The Song of Aurea

The Church of Newtale Pt. I

"See?" says Elanya, pointing, "It's the one with the high rooftop."

"Mhm," I nod as we continue on, Kasai trailing behind us, "You know this town better than I do."

A small human girl, about eight years old, stares at me with wide eyes. When mine catch with hers, she bristles and turns to her friend, a dark haired boy around the same age. She whispers into his ear and they both laugh with high-pitched squeals, but they stop and look at me, afraid, when my expression turns to annoyance.

"He scares me a little..." she says to the boy under her breath. He nods, his lips pressed together tightly.

"He won't hurt you," says Markkason from behind me, his words a bit slurred. He turns to me and smiles, "Right?"

"Hugh," I sigh, "Never. It's my job to slay evil. Not children."

The children don't look very convinced, but they nod their agreement anyway and we continue walking.

"Shit!" curses Markkason.

"What's wrong?" inquires Elanya.

"My violin!" he yells, patting his pockets in nonsensical vein, "I left it back at the Meadowlark Inn! No way I can go back there now!"

"If we want a good night's rest, we have to hurry," says Elanya, seeming excited for no discernible reason, "There's probably a lost and found, we can all check there later."

Markkason looks down at his hands and stumbles forward a bit.

"What's that smell?" he asks as he rights himself.

Sharpening my senses, my nostrils are filled with the bitter stench of death and rot and an odd shiver runs through my body.

"I smell it too," says Elanya, covering her nose.

"The eerie shiver down our spines, the stench of rotten flesh, the fog...It's all true," I say, looking over at a mass of obscuring fog, the faint silhouette of a church among it.

"By Pelor, how did I miss that?" murmurs Markkason.

"I didn't see it at first either," I say, "Strange."

We quickly arrive at the mayor's place of residence. It's a smaller home than I'd expect a mayor to have, but it's about the same size as the surrounding cottages and buildings, apart from the roof. There's a small garden in the front where what look to be a young woman's bare footprints are imprinted into the soft, dry soil. Very few of the plants are alive, but the rows are all thoroughly weeded. I walk past the gate, through said garden and knock on the round wooden door but there's no response. So I try again and the results are the same.

"It is late. I mean last I-" starts Elanya but she's interrupted as the mail-slot on the door slides open.

"Did Bevi send you?" asks the voice belonging to the two, tired, old eyes staring at us through the slot, "Tell him I'll get him the money when Ivy and Erst get me the supply of crops I was promised and tell him to stop bothering me at witching hours."

"Bevi didn't send us," hiccups Markkason from behind me.

He's getting drunker by the minute... I think.

"Then kindly bug off," he says, shutting the mail slot.

"Hang on a minute," I say calmly, "We're here on our own business. Your church of Pelor."

The slot opens again with the same brown eyes peering at us from the darkness.

"What's that to you?" he grumbles.