A Forest On Fire

City of Sorrow

Every face they passed and which passed them were fixed with a sort of crestfallen, faraway gaze as each person stumbled through the day. The only noises that interrupted the utter silence of the town were the shrill shrieks and shouting of the children running along together in pairs, often aside haggard-looking hunting dogs or kicking ahead a torn, dirty soccer ball. There were no horses, no carriages, nor were there any birds of any sort; everyone travelled on foot and conversed only to those they could see. Even as the full moon began to blossom in the sky, the number of people did not abate. 

This was the southern portion of Jausie, and it made sense that more people would be inhabiting this area; further down was the province of Bluen, where the capital lay. The capital was not in considerable danger of attack, but the duke would be sure to set them back in place should they stray too far from it. "Lydia," Elliot called.

Lydia lazily looked over at her and drawled, "Yes, Governor?" 

"Take Ballast somewhere and send Merlin the message that we have arrived safely, will you?" 

Ballast obediently landed on Lydia's shoulder and gave a horrid squawk. She made a face of disgust. 

"As you wish," Blackwater gruffly obliged, despite so being disinclined to.

After Lydia had taken Ballast away, Elliot turned to Mr. Volleh. "A word, Abraham?" 

The man gave a sudden, startling jolt as if he were frightened at the sound of her voice. "Y-Yes?"

She studied him with concern before going on, "Are you sure you're alright? I know it's cold, but you've been stuttering quite a bit. Perhaps we should-?"

"No," Abraham interrupted. "I appr-appreciate your concern, b-but I'm quite-" He stopped suddenly, and his face contorted with fear.

"Abraham?"

He gave another small jump. "On second thought, Governor, perhaps we should get a room in a motel, maybe?" 

"Yes," Elliot answered cautiously, eyeing him with suspicion rather than concern. "That's what I was about to suggest."

Mr. Volleh gave the governor a timid, apologetic smile. "We can go on without Ms. Blackwater, can't we?"

She pressed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply. "Yes, Abraham. She's quite capable of finding us on her own, and I'm sure she will in no time." 

Abraham noticed Elliot's perturbed look and said, attempting to be reassuring, "She is quite strange, isn't she?" 

The single motel they had managed to find upon asking around was small, old, and looked to be on its last legs. The lobby was all but deserted except for the young, bored-looking man behind the receptionist's desk, who gave somewhat of a start when he saw them walk in. Immediately, the man asked, in a crude pronunciation of the words, "Chare vou pan Englese?"

"Yes, w-we do," Abraham smiled at him as they drew nearer. 

The man slunk back into his chair, smiled weakly, and he answered, in an accent she did not recognise, "Good. Thank you." 

Elliot quickly glanced down at the nametag on his vest, which read, "Vincent X. Faust," but, before she could say anything, Vincent spoke peremptorily, "So, what'll it be? One room? Two?" 

"Two, please," Elliot requested, "but we'll be having another guest shortly. Her name is Lydia Blackwater; she'll know where to find us." 

"A'right," Vincent nonchalantly replied, digging around in the drawers beside him to fetch the keys for their rooms, and, whether or not he had even heard what she had just said, neither of them could tell. Vincent was just short of dropping them into Elliot's outstretched hand when he stopped. "Did you say 'Lydia'?"