WAR | Timothée Chalamet

1 | The Traveler

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No one knew he was coming.

It had been years since a traveler entered our village; a desolate place in the middle of a forest. It wasn't that we were invisible, it was that no one dared entered the town without a will for conflict.

We stood in between two kingdoms, half of our city on one side of the border, and the other half on the other. The Freys lied to the west, a kingdom built on the blood of it's enemies. To the east was Valor, a place that had not seen peace since many centuries before.

Before, there was just one kingdom: Lourdes. It was told that the country was once ruled by two brothers, alike in looks, but different at heart. No one knows that happened, but one day they awoke to find the kingdom split, the brothers taking their different sides. The only thing left of the past was our town, the only thing standing in the way of their divide.

If someone from Frey traveled into our city, it was seen as an act of war with Valor. It was the same the other way. Because of this, our town had seen no one else but the people who lived here.

So when he came, we knew not what to do.

»»——⍟——««

"A lady does not sit with her back curved."

A ruler pressed against my spine, pushing me up until I was sitting straight. I hated all of this, the manners, the etiquette, the responsibility. My gaze flitted over to the window, where the sun was streaming through the glass.

"Focus," my mother snapped, twisting my head back to it's front, "nothing outside will help you lead."

I narrowed my eyes, "I don't want to lead."

She sighed, setting down the ruler and crossing her arms. I wasn't scared of her temper, but I knew she still had power over what I did, and I could not change that. She began to pace, her eyes looking me up and down.

"We have no King," she urged, "we have no one to keep this village alive. You are the descendant of your father, and his father before him, so it is your responsibility to take the King's place."

"Anyone else can run this town," I defended, "it doesn't have to be me."

"You are a Lourdes. It can only be you."

When the kingdom split, our town was in ruin. Neither Frey or Valor lent a hand to our people, and we were left to fend for ourselves in the middle of their war. My great-grandfather took upon the role as leader, and kept us going.

But I was not my great-grandfather, and I will never be.

"I didn't feed the animals," I remarked, standing up from my chair.

It was an excuse I used many times, desperate to get out of conversations similar to this one. I stalked out of the room, rushing down the stairs and grabbing my apron from the hanger. Kicking open the door with my foot, I wrapped the cloth around my waist and left the cottage.

The chicken coop was located in the field across from my house, standing in between the pig pen and the garden. Since exports and imports were banned to Lourdes, we had to grow and breed our own food.

"She never lets up," I mumbled, bending down in front of the fence, "at least you'll always understand, Henry."

GUYS I MADE A MISTAKE BY FORGETTING ABOUT THE CHICKEN WHEN I NAMED HARRY'S CHARACTER!!! HARRY IS NOT THE CHICKEN!!! I'M SO SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION!!! AHHHH!

The chicken let out a bewildered shriek, before flapping its wings away and running off. Of course he didn't understand, but at least he'd listen to me (somewhat). Unlocking the gate, I hopped across the hay strewn about the ground, and made my way towards the coop. The fallen wood splinters scratched against my bare feet, but I was used to it.

"Anyone else can do it," I muttered to myself, picking up an egg from the nest, "It's not something only I know how to do."

I plopped the egg in the pocket of my apron, and reached inside for another one. It was a slow nesting day, unfortunately, so my mother would be more annoyed on top of everything.

"I don't even know how to do it in the first place," I continued, patting my sides, "anyways, I guess that's all."

I had collected all the unbroken eggs, and turned to retire back into the cottage. As I locked the gate behind me and stepped onto the cobblestone road, I caught the faintest glimpse of a figure further down the path. I blinked, rubbing my eye with the back on my hand.

I couldn't be seeing this.

My mother and I lived on the outskirts of the city, and the heart of the town was to my left. Yet the shadow of a person was approaching from the right. They were too far off for me to get a good look, but they seemed weak; the way they walked was irregular and impish. Squinting my eyes against the sun, I strained to see who it was. It was at that moment they seemed to see me as well, because they stopped their walking, and slowly extended an arm.

Then they collapsed.

"Hey!" I yelled, picking up the sides of my apron and running towards them, "are you alright?"

My feet thudded against the ground, stinging as I stepped over rocks and cracks. I winced as a sharp stone slit a cut into the arch of my foot, but I was more focused on the injured traveler before me. I could see now that he was a man, and greatly wounded.

I stopped abruptly, hovering over his unconscious body. Blood dripped from a gash in his chest, and his cheekbones were pale and bruised.

"Can you hear me?" I asked, sliding my arms under his, "no? Okay, I'm very sorry that I have to do this."

Hugging him with my right arm, I slid the left underneath his thighs, and picked him up so that he lay bridal style in my grips. I wasn't incredibly strong, so I could barely stand up myself as I carried him.

"Mother!" I called out towards the cottage, "help!"

In an instant, I saw her rush out the front door, frantically looking around for me. Her heart almost dropped when she saw me, and the boy in my hands. She ran towards us, her face stained with worry and confusion.

"What happened?" she questioned, helping lift the weight. She stared down at the boy's exposed face, and snapped her head back up to look at me, "who is this?"

"I don't know," I explained, "he just collapsed."

As soon as we reached the house, we dragged him to my room and laid him down on my bed. I wasn't pleased at my newly stained sheets, but it was the least of our worries.

"You cannot say a word about this," my mother hissed, holding up a finger to point at the boy, "not until we find out more."

She disappeared from the room, in search of one of the town's medics. I knew it wouldn't be long till she found one, since Lourdes was incredibly small. Only a few thousand lived here. Shutting the door behind her, I turned to look at the unconscious boy. He came from the right side of the road, which was east of the city. It could only mean one thing:

Whoever this boy was, he had come from Valor.