Death Frost | Deathsworn #2

Chapter 1 ❆ New Spring

When we got settled in the Temple, we were only given the most comfortable place they could spare—meaning, considering the very limited space of the place, it was nothing much. There were already many refugees that set up camp all around. Although I was not able to get a good look at them or their living conditions before, they seemed to have set up small, makeshift tents with the use of tattered material. They lined the outside with leaves to fend off the wet days and also lined the ground with makeshift carpets made of roughly the same materials so that they would stay dry. Somehow.

I wonder where these people go to...well, relieve themselves? I do suppose the temple had restrooms—it would be impossible if there weren't. I was used to warm baths and long soaks because I was a water baby—if that term was even correct. Nonetheless, I knew in this day and age that my baths were a luxury. I didn't expect to find that here.

The Abbot apologized he could not offer us better accommodation. It wasn't like they could displace the inhabitants that came there first, so we had to settle with what they could give us. Also, it helped with the cover even more, I suppose?

The idea wasn't bad. Although Erenol was probably not used to humble living, she made no complains. In fact, both she and Maun were rather excited at the prospect of living in a tent. They associated the idea with campfires and roasted meat—sleeping under open and starlit skies.

I knew it wasn't all that, though.

They were naïve. Knowing these two, especially Erenol, they would tire of it very quickly. I was not sure about Maun because where this boy came from and who he was were still pretty much a mystery to everyone else; to me especially. He'd not spoken—not that he literally could—a word about his past to me, even though my mistresses seemed to have a clearer idea about it.

I was reminded by the conversation I eavesdropped on between him and Aunt Safia—if that could even be called a conversation. It seemed the reason why he'd ended up the way he did was because his kind did not easily fall from ordinary blades...or methods of murder. They were like this invulnerable specie of beings that could some conjure scales on their skin and defend themselves.

Who was Maun? More so, what was he?

I've never heard of one of this world's human race...s from possessing such capabilities. Vertvaldenians seemed like probable subjects, but then he didn't resemble them physically. Did they grow scales like he did? I doubted it.

I had my inklings, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"Evy, what say you about going with Eren and Maun to fetch some blankets from the monks while Kora and I set up the tents?"

I nodded, breaking free from my line of thought to obey the request.

"Can't I help you set up?" Eren inquired, gazing at Mistress Veronika.

"Very well. Come here then. We need to get creative, so you ought to help out well, alright? Evy, the Abbot should have arranged for someone. Try finding them in the main hall."

I nodded again.

Maun unhesitatingly tailed after me. We went through the open grounds and encountered many people in their makeshift homes just living out their daily lives. They were all foreign faces, half similar to mine. Their skin was that trademark, beautiful burnished brown. However, their faces were marred with poverty, making them look rather dull and weary.

It was good to take note of how bright their eyes seemed to remain—a unique warrior light that spoke of hope and bravery. Seeing their soulful gazes and catching them, I felt a burn of determination. The numbness I had been fraught with the past few days seemed to have faded, and my heart was slightly enlivened with a spark. It shocked me somewhat. But I understood. These people were in a situation very similar to mine. They were all displaced from the places they'd known their entire lives due to a struggle.