Right, the scholarly one looked ready to burst with whatever he'd discovered. Leo offered Mira a polite nod, then quickly spread a few papers on the table. "It's about the history of this place," he explained.
Mira found herself drawn by his earnest tone. She pulled a stool over to join them without hesitation, ignoring a couple of curious stares from across the room. "What did you find?"
Leo's eyes lit up behind his spectacles. "A lot. But the short of it: Five centuries ago, a battle took place here. The King's Wind Commander fought a powerful necromancer called the Soul-Stealer. They both... died, sort of, and left behind one giant curse."
Mira inhaled sharply. Five centuries… She knew this village had old bones, but a battle of legends? It was almost too large to fathom. Yet it made sense of the strange winds and the restless dead. A curse long-lived.
Ren added, in his low rumble, "The Wind Commander's spirit is likely the swordsman wraith we sensed. The necromancer... could be the one orchestrating the undead now."
The idea that a monster from ancient times was directly responsible for Father Aram's disappearance made Mira clench her fists under the table. It was terrifying, but also clarified the stakes. This wasn't just a rogue ghoul or a spiteful forest spirit. This was war, unfinished. Her village was caught in it.
Aren caught her expression and his own grew gentle. "Hey, we're not gonna let some ghost general or old bonebag sorcerer have their way with your home. We're here now, yeah? Think of us as belated reinforcements."
His lopsided grin was infectious. Mira released the breath she'd been holding and nodded. "Reinforcements… five hundred years late." She managed a wry smile. "I'll take it."
Jorrin, who had been listening wide-eyed, raised a hand timidly. "Pardon, sirs—ma'am," he added toward Mira, "but does this mean the stories of the haunted ford were true? My gran used to say on winter nights you could hear swords clashing in the wind..."
Leo gave a thoughtful hum. "In a way, yes. A powerful enough duel can imprint itself on a place. The wind itself remembers that battle."
A moment of awed silence fell. Mira realized half the tavern was eavesdropping now, openly or not. Well, if it kept them from panic and turned it into wonder, that was maybe not a bad thing. Legends were easier to digest than unknown terrors.
Selda arrived then with a tray, setting down bowls of steaming lentil stew and cups of ale at the table. "On the house, as promised," she announced. "Eat. Can't save the world on an empty stomach."
Aren's face lit up comically at the sight of food. "Bless you, Selda. Truly a saint among chefs." He dove for a bowl immediately.
Ren gave a polite nod of thanks and sipped his ale. Leo absentmindedly stirred his stew, more focused on his notes than eating until Ren nudged the bowl toward him pointedly. Mira felt a warmth in her chest at the simple camaraderie of these three. They reminded her of siblings, or perhaps a very odd but loving family.
She realized she'd been on her feet a while and the stress was catching up. Carefully, she lowered herself onto the stool next to Leo, allowing herself to share their table and perhaps some of their confidence.
Aren between mouthfuls began explaining a rough plan, "So, finish shoring up wards—done. Intel gathered—thanks to Leo. Next, we gear up." He patted the satchel at his side. "We've arranged to borrow a few things from the town hall's store."
"Father Aram's artifacts?" Mira asked. She knew a few minor charms and holy tools were kept there. In Father's absence, she supposed it made sense the outsiders would requisition them. If it helped, she wouldn't object.
Leo nodded. "Just a few that might help against spirits and undead. We'll take only what's necessary."
Mira appreciated the respect in his tone; clearly they weren't out to ransack the village armory, such as it was.
Ren leaned forward slightly, voice low. "Mira, is there anyone in the village you don't fully trust? Someone who has been acting against the community's interests?"
The question took her aback. She glanced between their earnest faces. They suspect an inside agent? Her mind flicked immediately to Boran at the bar. She wet her lips and replied softly, "I'm… not certain. But Boran, our miller, has been odd lately. Leaving the village often, and he was against Father Aram reinforcing the wards last week. Aram mentioned Boran called it a waste of effort."
Ren followed her eyes subtly to the bar, where Boran sat alone, now staring into his empty tankard. "I've noticed him," Ren murmured. "We will keep watch on him."
Aren's cheerful expression had turned uncharacteristically hard for a moment. "If he's playing traitor for a necromancer, we'll sort it out." He must have caught Mira's worried look, because he added in a gentler tone, "Don't worry, we'll handle it quietly. No accusations until we're sure."
Mira released a breath. The idea of a neighbor betraying them stung almost as much as the undead attacks. She hoped desperately that Boran was just a coward or a fool, not a collaborator.
Finishing his stew in a final gulp, Aren stood. "Alright, break's almost over. Leo, Ren—we ready for the next round of prep?"
Leo stacked his notes neatly, wiping his mouth with a kerchief. "Yes. Town hall for gear, then maybe a sweep around the graveyard and riverbank for any anomalies."
Ren was already rising, adjusting his sword at his belt. Ever vigilant.
Mira found herself standing too, not entirely sure why until she spoke: "I'll come with you to town hall. I have the key to the artifacts cabinet."
It was true—Father Aram had entrusted her with a copy. And she didn't quite want to say goodbye to them yet. Being around these three made her feel like action was possible, that not all hope rested on prayers alone.
Aren gave her a two-second mock-stern look. "I thought we said no one walks alone?"
She smiled a little. "Then it's a good thing I'm walking with you, isn't it?"
He broke into a grin. Leo hid a chuckle behind a cough. Even Ren's eyes softened almost imperceptibly.
"Can't argue with that," Aren said. "Alright, quartermaster Mira, guide the way."
As the four of them departed the tavern, Mira felt the eyes of many villagers on their backs. She hoped they saw not just three wandering strangers and a village girl, but a united front. Strange allies perhaps, but allies nonetheless. And she prayed silently to any benevolent spirit listening that it would be enough.
Outside, the sky was inching toward evening, the light turning honey-gold. A warm breeze danced through the birch leaves, momentarily sweet and hopeful. Mira clung to that feeling. Tonight would be hard, maybe the hardest of her life, but she wouldn't face it alone.