Colomba Volante || Yanqing [✓ ]

✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

" La tua presenza mi dona pace. "

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╰┈➤ "This is the first time I've gone to the actual village square of your area—it's very charming."

"Well, it's not often I leave the smithy."

I could sense by the slight shift in the mood, that Yanqing wished to ask something along the lines of: 'why is that?', but it would seem he came to his own conclusions.

As we neared the edge of the village, drawing closer to the main entrance, the sun's warmth and the hushed murmurs of townsfolk painted an illusion of serenity. Yet, as we approached the square, a familiar shift in the atmosphere unsettled the peace.

Villagers exchanged wary glances, their mundane murmur's twisting into hostile insults; their once innocent faces now wearing expressions of deep resentment.

But I knew this treatment well.

"Yanqing, just gather what we need. I'll be at the merchant's stand," I said quietly, a slight worry crossing my mind. I should have never brought him along with me, however he would've been upset to stay by himself at the smithy.

Now there was no turning back; the townspeople could already see the swordsman was familiar with me. I could only hope their hostility wouldn't also be extended to him.

He nodded, a cheerful smile on his face. I knew well that he was just happy to be out and about with me, and in turn oblivious to the mood around us. Yanqing quickly made his way toward the stalls, picking up the ingredients on my list.

As I approached the stand, the hostility in the air thickened. A burly man stepped forward, blocking my path.

"It's a disgrace to show yourself here, daughter of the traitor," he spat in a deep voice. More townspeople rallied behind him, seemingly emboldened by his words.

"You evil witch! Leave this village and never come back! Your kin have only brought death and despair to us all!"

"We should've destroyed that forgery long ago!"

"Have you no shame for your father's sins!"

I felt the young swordsman's presence come beside me—his once cheerful expression replaced with worry and anger. A hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

The villagers' voices melded into a cacophony of hatred as they chanted the same phrase, 'Burn the smithy.'

I should have never brought him along with me.

Keeping my patience, I tried to navigate around them, but the man's aggression escalated. He raised his hand to strike, and the boy swiftly drew his sword—

"Yanqing." My sharp glance and firm voice was enough to stay his blade. I rose my hand in his direction, signaling again for him to calm down.

Confused and torn between defending me and heeding my command, Yanqing hesitated. Another glance from me prompted him to reluctantly sheath his sword.

Undeterred by the swordsman's sharp glare, some villagers began hurling stones at me. Maintaining my composure, I kept my gaze fixed on the merchant's stand.

"Burn the smithy?" I finally repeated. The sudden sound of my voice silenced the gathered crowd, and their eyes watched me intently—as if waiting for something horrible to happen next. "Burn down the one thing that has provided you all such comfortable lives? How many times, in these past 100 years, has my family provided you with the weapons you need to keep yourselves safe? How many times in these past 100 years has my family provided you with the money needed to sustain this small village? And how many times, in these past 100 years, have we had to sacrifice even our own lives, for the sake of your families being able to see the next morning?"

The square fell silent once more, the weight of my words hanging in the air. The villagers, previously full of vitriol, were now too stunned to respond. Their accusatory glares softened, replaced by a hesitant uncertainty.

"Two bottles of oil," I finally requested the merchant—whom handed me the goods, in exchange for a small pouch of coins. I could sense his wary eyes as he reluctantly took the payment.

Without delay, I stuffed the items in my bag and, in one swift motion, grabbed Yanqing's arm. The swordsman, still processing the recent turn of events, followed my lead as we left the square, our departure shrouded in a silence that spoke louder than any words.

Our steps were quiet, matching the solemn mood that enveloped us.

"Why didn't you let me fight back?" Yanqing finally said, "They were attacking you... for something that wasn't even your fault...!" He exclaimed, frustration etching his features.

I met his gaze, my expression unchanging. "They're not wrong for hating me. It is what I must endure, to pay for my father's sins."

"But... you shouldn't have to! Your father already—"

"Yanqing," I gently interrupted, "violence is not the answer. Those townspeople are also innocent."

My eyes found themselves looking forward, toward the quaint smithy not far in the distance.

"I wish nothing more than to keep peace. That is the only way to end the perpetual cycle of hatred. I hope one day, those people can realize that as well." My words had come out quietly, but Yanqing was listening intently.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it.

It would seem, that he was thinking deeply about the meaning of those words.

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╰┈➤ UNEDITED ✧

Original publication: 12.30.2023