"What is a priest like you looking for in rain like this?"
A middle-aged bald man asked from atop his horse, looking annoyed as if every drop of rain falling on his body was an enemy he could not fight.
"I'm afraid I cannot answer that, Johnson," the priest replied.
The person who spoke was also on horseback—a handsome blonde man in his thirties. Unlike the black jacket, the grey, worn, and torn shirt, and the black pants that Johnson wore, the priest's gold and red robe stayed dry in the heavy rain, as the droplets simply bounced off it.
"At least tell me where we're going. River Long will flood in such heavy rain; it's not safe here," Johnson said, pointing at the roaring river that ran parallel to the muddy road they were traveling on.
"A few days ago, we received reports of villages being burned down. That's where we're headed," the priest said with a smile that Johnson clearly didn't like.
Soon, the duo approached the burned-down remains of a village being washed away in the heavy rain. Only a large, charred tree stood tall, refusing to die.
"Is that a person?" Johnson asked, spotting a small figure kneeling before the tree in the rain.
The duo approached and saw it was a child—a boy with black hair and brown eyes. Surprisingly, his naked body was spotless, without a single scar or burn.
The priest took a white robe from a pouch tied to his horse and covered the boy with it.
"What's your name, child?" the priest asked with sympathy and a hint of curiosity.
"Talon," came a cold, detached reply, which made both adults glance at each other for a moment.
The priest spoke calmly, "Johnson, can you carry this young man to Laketown?"
"No, our contract didn't mention babysitting—wait! Yes, of course I can!" Johnson said, smiling as he suddenly had a realization.
As Johnson and Talon headed off, the priest turned around and began inspecting the remains of the village.
"Now, what on earth were the Crimson Hounds looking for here?" he mumbled to himself.
Johnson and Talon didn't speak much during the trip to Laketown, not until they crossed the town's gate.
"Finally! I was getting sick of this rain," Johnson laughed.
He led Talon into an inn.
"Who's this kid?" the innkeeper asked curiously.
"The priest's nephew," Johnson replied, pointing at the robe Talon was wearing. The innkeeper nodded.
"Give us some food; the kid must be hungry."
Talon stared at Johnson suspiciously.
"What are you looking at?" Johnson asked.
"Nothing!" Talon replied as he followed Johnson to a table and sat down.
He was hungry—he had been hungry for the past three days. As soon as the roasted turkey was brought in front of him, he attacked the dead bird like it owed him gold.
"You sure eat well," Johnson commented.
"So, what were you doing in that place?" he asked casually.
Talon stopped eating for a moment but then continued consuming the turkey as if he hadn't heard anything, which annoyed Johnson.
"Ugh! You remind me of that priest! you people need to learn how to communicate properly!"
Johnson kept complaining the entire time Talon was eating, mostly about the priest but also about the rain and the count, who was apparently a hypocrite who raised taxes and did nothing for his people.
Just as Talon finished his first proper meal in days, the priest returned.
"How are you feeling, child?" the priest asked with concern.
"I'm not a child; I'm Talon," Talon replied.
"Then, Talon, would you mind answering a few simple questions?"
Talon shook his head, indicating no.
"Look, I know you might have been through a lot, but we can't help you if you don't tell us what happened, can we?"
The priest's words were gentle but authoritative, as if refusal wasn't an option.
The innkeeper showed them to their room. It wasn't spacious, and Talon sat opposite the priest on either side of a table while Johnson stood guard outside.
"My name is Cyrus Grey, Cyrus the Thronebearer," the priest introduced himself.
"Talon Heartwood!" Talon's introduction made the priest's eyes widen.
"Do you know anything about what happened to that village?"
Cyrus was gentle, but Talon could feel an immense presence from the priest that made him feel almost suffocated.
"All I remember is blue flames," Talon said, feeling an immense strain on his mind as it refused to recall the details.
"Blue flames!?"
The exclamation came from outside the room—it was Johnson, who had been eavesdropping the whole time.
"Come inside," Cyrus sighed, and the pressure Talon felt disappeared.
"I swear I heard nothing!" Johnson said as soon as he entered.
Cyrus closed the door and said seriously, "You heard right. It was definitely the work of a Trait holder—and a powerful one at that and If it's blue flames…"
Johnson knew that knowing things he wasn't supposed to could spell trouble, but he didn't expect the priest to be so forthcoming.
"Why are you telling me this? You're the priest, and I'm just a trait-less mercenary," Johnson said, looking at the priest in annoyance.
"Protect this boy," the priest said as he tossed Johnson a pouch full of coins.
"You expect me to interfere in the affairs of nobles for a few coins?" Johnson's face paled, but it lit up when he saw the gold coins inside the pouch.
"Gold? Not silver?" he asked, shocked.
The priest didn't reply, only nodded, then turned to Talon.
"Something is going on, and if it's related to what I think it is, you need to go to Loren City. Find the church and show them this token."
Cyrus handed Talon a token bearing the symbol of a rising sun.
"Consider that an advance. I'll pay the rest when Talon reaches the church."
With that, the priest left, leaving behind a shocked and confused mercenary and an even more confused ten-year-old boy.
After a minute of silence, Johnson spoke while rubbing his bald head.
"Rest for now. We'll head out tomorrow."
He left Talon alone in the room.
Talon fell asleep quickly when he lay down on the not-so-comfortable bed, as if his body had been waiting for a chance to rest.