Brother Douglas rummaged through Father Lucas’ belongings, determined to make an example out of the man who dared stand against him.
“Every man has his secrets,” Douglas muttered, tossing aside books one after another with increasing irritation.
Then his hand landed on something different, Lucas’ personal journal. He held it up, turning it over like a treasure hunter appraising a rare find. “This could be something…”
He flipped through the pages, skimming quickly for anything useful.
“The attendance has dropped. The presence of the Church’s soldiers has the people worried,” Douglas read aloud, his lip curling. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“These people should be rejoicing that the Church has called upon them,” he spat.
His eyes scanned further down the page.
“Brother Orion confided in me his questions about the Church. I can’t blame him. I have questions myself…”
Douglas’ sneer twisted into a smile.
Now this was something he could use.
He flipped past a few more pages.
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“The Usher has been found. I worry for the people of my town. I can’t shake the feeling that something will happen here. Orion said Marcus was heading toward Stennor. I’m ashamed to feel relief that it was someplace else. I’m not a fool—I know one day there will be no more ‘someplace else,’ and a calamity will befall the people of River Hallow. One day, we will all pay for our sins.”
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Douglas stared at the page, his expression unreadable. He mumbled to himself, “What little secret are you hiding, Lucas?” Guilt made an excellent weapon—one Douglas wielded with pride.
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He closed the journal with a snap. “There must be more… from earlier,” he said, before resuming his ransacking of Lucas’ room with renewed intensity.
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Outside, in the quiet streets of River Hallow, Thomas and his friend Dareth were deep in conversation.
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“I’m tellin’ you, Copper,” Dareth said, rubbing the side of his head with a grimace, “the house I’m stayin’ at—the woman there—she wields a wooden spoon like it’s a sword.”
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Thomas raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”
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“I made the mistake of eatin’ before prayers… Whack!” Dareth slapped the air for emphasis. “Right across the ear.”
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Thomas burst into laughter as he leaned back on the stone water well in the center of town. “About time someone put you in your place.”
Dareth smirked. “I swear, they need to put that old lady Katherine in the army. I bet she could take down the Usher by herself!”
It was nice to have a moment of laughter. The march under Brother Douglas’ command had worn on everyone’s nerves.
“So,” Dareth said, glancing over, “what are you gonna be writin’ about me today, Copper Thomas?”
Thomas shook his head. “Not you, Dareth. I’m writing about how the people reacted to us being here.”
“Copper Thomas.” The new nickname rolled off Dareth’s tongue easily. Thomas pretended to be annoyed, but secretly, he liked the way it sounded.
“What do you think these people will say about us after we’re gone?” Thomas asked, the weight of the question settling in his voice.
Dareth paused, then sighed as he grabbed the winch and began lowering the bucket into the well. “I don’t know, Copper Thomas. Don’t sit right with me either.”
The bucket hit the water with a distant splash.
“With any luck,” Dareth muttered, “we won’t be here too much longer.”
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Dareth stopped and watched one of the townsfolk slip into the tavern. “I don’t know about you, Copper, but Brother Douglas never said anything about not drinking,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe we lay off the water for a bit.”
He slung an arm around Thomas’ shoulder. “Can you think of a better way to find out what these people are really thinking?”
Thomas tried to resist, but Dareth easily steered him in that direction. It had been a while since he’d had a good drink—and with the tension hanging over River Hallow like stormclouds, maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.
They headed toward the Tired Boar.
Inside, the place that once buzzed with chatter now offered only cold silence. All eyes turned toward them.
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“What’ll the Holy Boys be havin’ today?” came a booming voice from behind the bar.
Jirjin met their gaze with a grin.
“Just don’t think the ale’s free,” he added, wiping a mug clean. “If the Creator wanted you to have free ale, it’d be rainin’ it.”
Dareth slid onto a barstool and leaned forward. “Three ales—one for me, one for my friend here, and the third for anyone brave enough to tell my friend Copper how they feel about the Church being in town.” He dropped a few coins on the counter with a grin.
Thomas sighed but couldn’t bring himself to be mad. What had he expected? He gave a small nod and said, “Hello,” to Jirjin as he took a seat.
Jirjin scooped up the coins and poured two ales, sliding them across the bar. “I’ll tell you how we feel,” he said with a cheerful smile. “We’d like your lot to kindly bugger off and leave this town in peace.” He didn’t pour the third.
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Dareth chuckled. “Real friendly barkeep. Who says ale brings people together?”
“A damn fool!” someone shouted from the back of the tavern, triggering a round of laughter.
Thomas took a deep breath. Laughter was a good sign. He set his book on the bar and began to write.
Jirjin raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well now, look at this—we’ve got ourselves a scholar, folks!”
Used to Dareth’s constant banter, Thomas replied without thinking, “Literacy is a magical power.”
Dareth nearly choked on his ale.
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Before Thomas could apologize, Jirjin leaned in and said, “The last bookworm who got smart in here—well, we broke all his fingers.” His voice dropped low. “You trying to get smart, boy?”
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Thomas felt his stomach sink to the floor. “No, sir. I’m just…” He paused, realizing whatever excuse he gave wouldn’t help.
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“Copper has the manners of a… well, like your sign says—a Tired Boar,” Dareth said, clearly proud of his comeback.
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Jirjin turned his gaze. “You’re too ugly to act cute.”
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Thomas could feel the tension rising fast. He stepped in quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. I spoke without thinking.”
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“Try sleeping in your own beds, not someone else’s,” Jirjin snapped.
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Dareth downed the rest of his ale in a single gulp. “I think it’s time for us to take our leave, Copper.”
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Thomas didn’t argue. He reached for his mug, trying to finish the drink, but managed to spill more than he swallowed. He opened his mouth to apologize again but the look on Jirjin’s face told him to shut it and go.
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“Don’t worry about that third ale,” Dareth said as he stood. “Keep the coin as a tip—for the hospitality.”
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The two of them stepped out of the tavern. Dareth clapped him on the back with a laugh. “Real smart, Copper Thomas.”
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“Shut up,” Thomas muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. “It was your idea to get a drink, remember?”
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“I worry about what would happen to you if I wasn’t here to protect you,” Dareth said as he threw an arm around Thomas again. “Who am I kidding? We’ll be side by side forever!”
Thomas didn’t share the excitement. “Want me to include the ‘Too ugly to act cute’ line from the bartender?” he asked, mimicking Jirjin’s voice with exaggerated flair.
Dareth smirked. “Only if you keep the part where you couldn’t even steady your ale because you were too scared.”
They traded petty jabs all the way back to the church, their banter a shield against the tension rising around them.
But it shattered the moment they arrived.
Brother Douglas came storming out the front doors, his expression grim. He held a journal in his hand—the one he had been searching for.
“Bring Lucas to me. And gather everyone in the town square!” he barked. His commanders didn’t hesitate.
Douglas’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
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“This place needs to be set right.”
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