The temporary house looked like a decrepit shack in the distance, its walls made of thin, rotting planks and its patched roof cobbled together from rusted tin sheets. The cold night wind slipped freely through the gaps, carrying with it the damp scent of wet earth from outside. Even so, for Riven and Melly, this place was enough, at least to rest for a while.
As soon as they arrived, Riven dropped the large cloth sack strapped to his back. It landed with a heavy thud on the fragile wooden floor, sending up a puff of dust. He then unfastened the sword wrapped in a tattered cloth at his waist. The blade was clearly more valuable than all their other spoils, so he set it carefully beside the sack, his wary glance betraying its importance.
On the other side, Melly lowered the massive axe she had carried all along. Her movements were slow, cautious, as though afraid it might crash through the floor. Once she set it down, her small frame wavered, breath ragged. Sweat slid down her temple, and with trembling fingers she wiped it away, forcing a faint smile.
Riven's gaze lingered on her, and she looked back at him. There was so much they wanted to say about the night they had just endured. But before either could speak, the silence was broken by a sudden sound from within the room.
Grauuuuk!
It didn't come from outside, nor from an approaching threat. It was simply the growl of Melly's empty stomach. The sound was so loud that it froze the air for a moment, until Riven realized what it was.
His face, tense and stern until then, softened. The corner of his lips lifted, and at last, he let out a small laugh—a laugh that slipped free after a long night of unbroken tension.
Meanwhile, Melly's face flushed bright red. She lowered her head, eyes darting toward her brother as she murmured in a timid, embarrassed voice.
"Riven, don't laugh at me… I haven't eaten all day."
Riven exhaled, not in anger, but in guilt. He rubbed the sore nape of his neck, then looked at his sister with a faint smile.
"Forgive me, Mel. I should have thought of that sooner. Did you find anything at all in this house?"
Melly shook her head quickly, eyes still damp but smiling faintly.
Riven rubbed his face briefly, then stood and patted her shoulder.
"Then how about tonight we eat in the city?"
Melly immediately lifted her head. Her once-dim eyes now sparkled with excitement. She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up, as though some of her earlier fear and exhaustion had melted away at the promise of a "dinner."
Seeing that, Riven couldn't help but smile. Yet his expression grew serious again as he pointed toward the water basin in the corner.
"But first, we need to wash. Otherwise, we'll end up having dinner in prison if the city guards see us like this."
Melly was silent for a moment, then laughed softly, a light and sweet sound spilling from her lips. It filled the cramped room, washing away a little of the bitterness clinging to their hearts after a night drenched in blood and fear.
.
.
Riven stood beside the rickety house, staring at the old stone well. The wooden bucket creaked as he lowered it into the darkness, followed by a splash as it touched the water. He pulled it up, the muscles in his arms taut, the rope groaning like a complaint from a world long decayed.
When the cold water poured over his bare body, he shivered instantly. Beads of water mixed with dirt and mud streamed down his back, carrying away the stench of corpses and dried blood that had clung to him since the battlefield. The night wind blew sharp and cruel, stabbing into his skin like needles of ice.
"Damn it…" Riven muttered between his chattering teeth. "This cursed medieval age… no pipes, and baths still mean hauling water from a well. How backward can this world be?"
His tongue was bitter, but his hands didn't stop. He hauled water again and again, dousing his body, scrubbing away filth and stains of blood. Each time the icy water struck his head, his body shook violently, but he forced himself on.
Inside the shack, Melly washed the same way, using the nearly depleted water in the basin. She trembled violently, her hands shaking as she poured the water, but she made no complaint.
Once their bodies were dry as best as they could manage, both changed into what little clean clothes they had—worn, but serviceable.
Riven then picked up the sword with its blade as white as ice, replacing the filthy cloth wrapping with a clean one he had found in the shack.
"Let's go," Riven said, his voice flat but firm.
Melly nodded obediently, and together they left the shack. They walked carefully down the narrow path, wet grass brushing against their boots. Riven kept glancing left and right, ears alert for the faintest suspicious sound.
The city itself wasn't completely dead, even though most of its people had fled after Mordune's sudden assault. In the distance, oil lamps still flickered in a few windows. The faint voices of drunken merchants or crying children drifted from behind walls, mixing with the cold wind that carried the smell of iron and smoke.
As they reached the main street, Riven saw a few city guards patrolling. Torchlight swung in arcs, glinting off their helmets and spears. Melly lowered her head, hiding her still-pale face.
Riven, on the other hand, let his eyes wander. Unconsciously, a scenario began to spin in his mind—what might happen if he reported those ten mysterious men to the city.
He imagined himself in a suffocating chamber, guards staring at him with suspicion, questions hurled endlessly. If he mentioned those ten men, would they believe him? Or would they accuse him of collusion? Or worse still… silence him forever if it turned out the guards themselves were in league with those men.
Riven snorted softly. He knew the answer all too well. There was nothing to gain by opening his mouth.
His gaze shifted to the swaying oil lamps in the distance, then to Melly walking beside him. She looked fresher after washing, but the exhaustion still clung to her face. Riven squeezed her hand tightly, a silent message that she must not stray from his side.
Melly glanced at her brother, not knowing what he was thinking. But she could feel the heaviness in the air that followed their steps under the city's somber glow.