Chapter 386 - Distracted

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Frey had just finished the last of the mercenaries when he caught some motion in the corner of his eye. A cowardly pretender bolted, leaving their unconscious comrades behind. Without thinking much of it, Frey sprinted after the straggler, who barely made it into the maze of construction sites before he was caught.

Frey had overpowered plenty with his size but this fight felt too easy, more of a bother than a fight. It only took a few punches to knock the straggler out. 'Maybe I went a bit far,' he thought as he examined his handiwork.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. "I think he's had enough, Frey," one of the construction workers said, who wore a fur coat with a plaid shirt beneath it. There was something vaguely familiar about his full beard and domineering posture, which dwarfed Frey.

Frey scrolled through his memories and came up with a name to match the beard: "Krant?"

Krant nodded. "I didn't think you'd recognize me." He gestured to the mercenary on the ground. "You've grown into a scary man. Walk with me and let's talk."

"Well actually-" Frey tried to say.

Krant ignored him and turned towards the rest of the construction crew. "I'm taking my break, as should the rest of you. Enjoy time away from those lousy mercs while they're still on the ground." The man gave a round of applause for Frey, who was led away by Krant's heavy-handed pull. Frey didn't care about money anymore, but he didn't want to ignore Krant.

Of everyone Frey had worked for, he respected Krant the most, because he always made sure his crew was happy. Therefore, back when Frey took any job he could get, he always went to Krant first. If that didn't work, he would go from shop to shop, from bakery to restaurant, to even the local blacksmith, and if all else failed, the flower field. Gwen's medicine wasn't free, nor was the shack they called home.

"How long have those mercs been around?" Frey asked.

Krant frowned. "Enough for me to start missing you Virility Guards. Don't worry about them. Something tells me you have other things on your mind. Changing subjects, last I heard you were going to Draken Capital. Were you there when The Fracture happened? Did you bring back any news?"

Frey didn't know why the look in Krant's eye made him so uneasy, and that made him distance himself from Krant, who he didn't even know very well. Frey forced his head away. In doing so, he noticed that passerbiers gave off the same strangeness as Krant. The town itself had changed, not just the people.

Petal Town was much louder than it was a few months back. Its quiet charm was stomped out by hurried folks left and right. Frey didn't mind if there were more people, since they tended to distance themselves from him as if he were one of the piles of snow on the path. He liked the quiet, as opposed to the noisy streets of Draken capital.

"Any news?" Krant repeated.

"You're being awfully insistent there Krant," Frey said.

Krant blinked, then let out a sigh as he untensed his shoulders. "I got caught up in the excitement. Sorry. The last thing you want to hear is a former employer hounding you when you get back to town. I take it you're on the way to see your sister? I'll let you go, but see me after that." Krant turned to leave.

Frey cleared his throat. "You wanted news right?"

Krant turned around with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah but you need to see your-"

Frey signaled for him to follow. "Let's just say you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's trade news for news. What happened to this town?"

Krant's confusion fizzled out, and he snorted. He walked up to Frey and regan to rant: "You could say that again. Our noble lord keeps mucking everything up with these swords-for-hire, and now he's not seen by anyone these days. I tell you, ever since The Fracture, things have been strange around this place. I wouldn't care but people aren't showing up to work!"

"Is that why you wanted to talk, to get me employed," Frey responded, quickly lamenting that he riled Krant up. He didn't need money anymore so why was he asking about it, he thought to himself.

Krant shrugged. "Aye, I've never had so many missing people."

Frey perked up. The town was strange, but it didn't seem innately sinister. He spotted people strolling in and out of shops every now and again. He could even smell a fresh batch of pastries that the local baker must have been whipping up. If the owner hadn't been such a stingy man, he would have checked it out. "People are missing?" 

Krant shook his head. "Well there have been attacks but no mysterious disappearances or anything like that. A lot of people have just packed up and left. Everyone's scared. The mercenaries help but they come with their own problems. It's The Fractures I keep hearing. That's when most of this weirdness started."

"You mean what happened to the moon?" Frey asked, to which he received a nod. "Listen, you're a good boss but I'm not interested in working, nor finding out what the cause of all this stuff is. I just want to go see my sister then go on my way, that's it." He glanced over his shoulder. 'Crap,' he thought. 'I didn't tell the others where I was going.'

They said their goodbyes and they went their separate ways. Frey continued onwards, only stopping when another familiar face would say hello. He had forgotten how many people he knew, and how many people had relied on him. One thing stayed consistent across all of them, that strange look in their eyes. He wondered if he would have it as well by the time he got to Gwen's house.

Gwen's house? Is that what he thought of their home? Hadn't they found it and cleaned it up together? Frey looked around to distract himself from his thoughts.

The town itself was so full of new things. Would she be angry at him?

Shops didn't only sell the same old things from the same old people. He spotted new faces and trinkets through shop windows. Should he just leave her a note on the door and leave?

New paints. New clothes. New. New. New. He almost ran towards the old, the decrepit slums he was familiar with. That, at least, had not changed. Did he deserve to be angry at her? He didn't feel angry, not anymore.

The flower field. Perfect. The dormant rose stems and roots were as sorry a sight as the servants who carefully cared for them. Workers were always in the fields, as it was a careful job that needed to be done, not rushed. Frey knew how bad a single prick could be. It was how everything spiraled out of control, leading him to today, walking through clumps of shacks.

Before he knew it, he was in front of Gwen's home, staring blankly at the distance between him and the door. He brushed snow off the steps and made his way up to the door.

He did care about the town, and what had become of it. He wanted to tell the others where he went. He wanted anything but to knock on Gwen's front door and see her face again, but he had to do it. Gwen was an anchor which had been weighing him down. It was time to rid himself of it.

He'd rather kneel down and beg for Doevm's forgiveness than repeat the blind, disoriented anger that he experienced in the swamp. The group deserved better than that. Easier said than done.

Frey had beaten seven people and walked away without a sweat, but standing there, his heart felt like it would explode. It was beating so fast. So loud.

He knocked.

Ten seconds came and went with his heart in his mouth.

Nothing.

He knocked a second time, this time louder.

The silence was infuriating.

He nearly forgot he had a key to the house he had bought alongside his older sister. It was his house after all. He put the key in the lock, but before he could turn it the door creaked open. Peering inside the empty home, he felt not a hint of warmth from within. Snow sat in the corners. No people nor things. Gone.

"What the hell happened here?" Frey asked aloud.

"She left," a voice said, and Frey recognized the voice as belonging to Owen as he walked up to the base of the steps. His fat had thinned as a result of winter, but remnants still clung to his now-sagging cheeks much like stains to his black apron. He seemed so small as he stared up at Frey.. His vacant, beady eyes looked emptier than the house.

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