Michrinor: The Fates of The Heirs

Chapter 18 - Kamwler

The team journeyed east from Mount Oodkurchar, crossing the swift currents of the Bariami River. As they turned southward, they passed through Dajeau, a large port city on the southern shores of Lake Mor, situated just west of Kamwler. Though the city appeared tranquil, the group maintained a low profile, aware that it was a hub for tradesmen from the Swamps of Coden, the most perilous lands in all of Michrinor.

A narrow river flowed from Lake Mor to the southern sea, marking the boundary between Dajeau and the farming village of Kamwler. As they crossed the bridge into Kamwler, Ava felt a growing sense of unease. The expansive farms buzzed with activity, but the villagers cast wary glances at the Naitseers, Ava, and the Momos. Their stares were filled with mistrust, causing Ava's nerves to tighten.

The group made their way to a small tavern in the village square. Taci, Harvan, and Ava entered, while the others remained outside with the Hauttons and supplies. The moment they stepped inside, the bartender's gaze locked onto them, his expression hardening. "You aren't welcome here, Naitseer," he growled, his eyes narrowing at Taci and Harvan.

"We mean no offense and seek no trouble," Taci responded, her voice calm and measured. "We're merely looking for Kirbin Farm and hoped you might direct us."

Ava was struck by Taci's composed response; back home, such a slight would have led to a confrontation. Yet here, Taci's humility and restraint shone through.

The bartender huffed, wiping the counter with a rough cloth. "I'll tell you, but then you'd best be on your way," he muttered. "Head east toward the old marketplace. Turn north, and you'll find the farm at the base of the hills. Now go!"

Taci inclined her head in thanks, and Harvan, with a protective hand on Ava's shoulder, guided her back outside to rejoin the others.

Outside, Ava couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on her. The villagers still watched them with cold suspicion. She turned to Svonman, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Svonman, why don't they like you here?"

Svonman's expression grew somber. "It's a tale of old wounds," he said quietly. "The Swamps of Coden are near, and many battles have been fought on this land between the Naitseers and the Bulkru. Homes were destroyed, lives disrupted. Though we fight to protect these people, they see only the destruction, not the danger we fend off. Their pain blinds them to our purpose, and they choose anger over understanding."

Ava's heart ached for the villagers. How long had they harbored such resentment? Why couldn't they see the Naitseers' true intent? It reminded her of her father back on Earth, who often pushed away those who tried to help him.

Following the bartender's directions, they arrived at a dilapidated farmstead. The fencing leaned precariously, with sections missing, and weeds choked the ground, rising waist-high in some places. The mud-brick house stood forlorn, its thatched roof riddled with holes, allowing the sky to peer through. As they approached, a man passed by on the road.

"Kind sir?" Svonman called out, his voice polite and steady. "Might I ask you a question?"

The man paused, his expression less hostile than those they had encountered in the village. "Aye," he replied, inclining his head.

"Who owns this farm?" Svonman asked.

The man's face grew somber. "That farm holds a grim tale," he said. "It belonged to Dunber the drunk. He killed his wife in a fit of rage, and his daughter fled soon after. In time, he descended further into madness, murdering several townsfolk in his drunken fury. The villagers took justice into their own hands and ended his life. No one has lived there since." With a nod, the man continued on his way, leaving the group in heavy silence.