Reaper's Crown

Ch. 24

Rowan quickly concluded that Kaupiers weren't necessarily liked around these parts of Prope Portam. Well, if the multitude of swear words written below their sloppy family name and bottles of alcohol stolen from the bar lying around the gardens didn't suggest anything earlier, it was perhaps the people avoiding the tent, opting into taking longer roads instead. Even some of the animals Rowan despised turned away in fear.

"Oi." The Tributal raised their voice, crossing their hands. The girl turned, fearful.

"S-Sorry..." she put her hands together.

"Nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault that some idiots caused this." Rowan closed their eyes, with a sparkle shining in their hand. The girl's eyes lit up. "Take this."

"H-Huh? Silver?" she asked, beaming lightly.

"I don't know how much things cost around here, but it should be enough. When all of this ends, why don't you buy yourself another?" Rowan smiled as well, which was a rather rare occurrence. The girl wiped away her tears and hugged Rowan's pant leg. Albeit it was still wet, she didn't seem to mind. She moved back, nodding and then running off.

However, it seemed that, no matter how far away Rowan was, the woes of the chaos managed to reach in, in one way or another. As if they didn't deserve a moment of peace that they sought.

"What happened?" A woman ran in from one tent towards the main beige road.

"Bancho's..." the other man replied, unable to finish his words with tears falling down his eyes.

Rowan squinted both. They peered forward, sighing, and moving further along the road.

***

Eventually, things seemed to die down as hours passed without an explanation in sight. Atomu was still aimlessly wandering around the town, taking carved-out paths in the orange grass and moving further away from the crowds.

The deafening silence didn't strike at his heart, rather, it felt dull and sad. It would be effortless to continue writing about the things he could've possibly felt, so focusing on his rather uneventful journeys might reflect that uneasiness a little bit better.

Perhaps, that was the answer he sought as well.

He stepped towards the Grove district, which was separated by a rather mountainous hill right where Medulla's grassy and uninteresting plains ended.

When younger and in his teenage years, Atomu avoided the place like the Paladian plague, warned of its possible dangers, and witchtales made up by his mother. It seemed that the older woman had some aversion to the few people living in that part of town, namely, she cited one situation where they said a few mean words, so she falsely concluded that everyone from the Grove was as barbaric as the few men.

In reality, the district was rather calm, but Atomu didn't know that. He had no story to recall, and once again, felt like a stranger.

Atomu wondered about Elton instead. After all, it was said that craftsmen families lived where the biggest supply of resources belonged, with the district itself being nothing more than a lush jungle of llove trees, even with extending vines and branches, sometimes creating houses atop and further away from all the people.

Following the river, his hand swiped around the reddish bark, seeing its tint resembling the few tools Elton used along the way. His eyebrows shook.

Looking up, the branches themselves resembled the steps Elton created when moving down the various holes in the caverns, signalling for everyone else to tread his path. Green and red vines turned into ropes he carried in his backpack, which he wrapped around cloths, neatly bandaging a wound when Ambrosia wasn't around.