A week had passed, and William hadn't seen any sign of Lucy.
At first, he stopped by the bar out of simple curiosity. Then, it became a daily routine with less about drinking and more about making sure she was alright.
"Hello again, Mister Blacksmith!"
As always, he was greeted by the bubbly waitress with cat ears. She'd been covering Lucy's shifts for the past few days. William kept hoping she'd offer something different, maybe some unexpected good news, but he already knew what was coming.
"She's still not here, is she?"
The waitress shook her head. "Her situation's taking longer than she thought, but don't worry. My Lucy will come back... eventually."
William gave a faint, dry smile. "You make it sound like even you aren't sure she will."
She mirrored his expression. "Oh, I know she will. I'm just not sure when, but when she does, she'll have to face my wrath. Leaving me hanging like this? That's not like her at all…"
William could tell the situation was weighing on her. Behind the forced cheer and rehearsed lines, her thoughts were somewhere else.
"She'll be back safe and sound." William said with softness in his voice.
Marla nodded. "Yes… of course. Now, your usual? The special of the day, right?"
"Please."
He took his seat at the bar and took a few drinks. He tried not to think much about it, but the longer he sat there, the more uneasy he felt.
He wasn't just worried about Lucy anymore. He was starting to worry about himself. Five days straight of drinking can't be good for his health.
"About that other thing…"
"Oh… right. I'll swing by later for that."
***
The blacksmith walked down the dusty road, heading home after his visit to the bar.
He couldn't get Lucy's face out of his mind—the last expression she wore when she left. It was the same look she'd had when she was younger, back when everything started falling apart. He, of all people, knew that face never led to anything good.
"--Mongrels. You'd best leave now, or you'll be violating guild law."
"Hm?"
William slowed his pace.His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
There, in the busiest part of town, stood Paul for the fifth time that week. The blacksmith had seen him every day lately, more than he ever had in the past. Maybe it was because Paul had claimed a prime location for his stand and hadn't moved since.
But today, he wasn't alone.
Three men stood in front of the merchant's stall, voices rising with tension. William recognized them. They were part of the merchant's guild. Curious, he kept his distance but leaned in just enough to catch the conversation.
"You're the one breaking guild law, Paul."
"Yeah! Who do you think you are? You've left the other merchants on this street with nothing!"
"Hmph, hmph!"
Paul scoffed, arms crossed. "The rule says that when conducting guild business, I'm allowed to operate in a spot of my choosing. Until that work is finished, no one can interfere. Even you can understand that much, Richy."
Richy growled. "Don't play dumb. You're abusing the rule to make a profit for your shady dealings!"
Paul's nostrils flared. "Hey! My business isn't shady."
"Richy is right. Your grace period was over days ago. You were supposed to pack up and return to your shop."
"That's the thing, Dicky. My shift isn't over. I haven't left this stand for a second. And I'm still handling guild matters, thank you very much."
"Hmph, hmph!"
"That's right, Chatty!" Richy chimed in. "You can't stay here forever, Paul. It's been a whole week. Who's even running your shop?"
Paul shrugged, completely unfazed. "My wife is. And honestly? She's doing a better job than I ever did."
"This is ridiculous! You can't keep exploiting the rules like this!"
"Oh, come on, Richy," Paul said with a smirk. "You're just mad that I'm raking in money while you're stuck whining about loopholes. Now, kindly move along. You're interfering with my guild duties."
Richy clicked his tongue and turned away. The others followed, before the man paused for a parting threat.
"This isn't over, Paul. We'll find a way to shut you down."
Paul didn't flinch. "I'd love to see you try."
As the confrontation ended, Paul casually went back to tending his stand like nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, William stood a short distance away, half-hidden in the corner of a building. He was at a loss for words. He'd known Paul could be crafty, but he hadn't realized how far he'd pushed things with his fellow merchants. This wasn't just clever maneuvering, it was creating real tension.
He considered approaching, but after that heated exchange, he doubted Paul would be in the mood to talk. Instead, William turned away and continued down the road.
For now, he'd let it be.
***
William stepped into an overgrown path that led to a big tree. Vines and wild plants crowded the way, but he pushed through, carving a narrow trail with each step. When he reached the tree, he placed a hand on its bark and whispered, "Anoixe sousami."
A faint light glimmered along the bark, and a hidden door revealed itself. The glow traced a doorframe before it creaked open, unveiling a dark stairway descending into the earth.
The steps led into a private study. A single desk and chair sat in the center of the room. The air was thick with dust. William stood there, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of old parchment and wood. It was exactly how he remembered it.
"The room is just how I left it years ago," he murmured, running his fingers along the edge of the desk. "Then again, I'm the only one who has access to it."
This place had once been his refuge. No one could interrupt him here. No sound escaped the study's walls, yet he could hear the forest leaves rustling, birds calling and the wind whispering.
"Even so… it doesn't feel the same without you, Grandpa."
His thoughts drifted back to the first time he'd arrived to The Lost Forest. The house had looked like it was being swallowed by the forest, barely maintained, vines creeping along the walls. He remembered the fear he'd felt, not knowing what to expect. He had never met his grandfather before then, and judging by his family's history, that didn't fill him with much hope.
When he stepped onto the porch, he'd seen the old man rocking slowly in a chair. It had taken a while for him to notice William standing there. He had always been a quiet child. But when their eyes finally met, his grandfather gave him a wide, welcoming smile.
"Welcome home, kid."
William smiled softly at the memory. "You were a great man, Grandpa. I just wish everyone else could've seen that."
When his father passed away, William visited frequently the study room. He would sit in a corner leaving everything untouched, just like his grandfather left it, and imagined he was still sitting on his chair, burying himself in his books.
William took a deep breath, "I've grieved enough. Although I'll forever miss you, it's time to move on."
He slowly sank into his grandfather's chair. The study room had felt enormous when he was a boy, but now it felt cramped, cluttered with towers of books and loose pages scattered across the floor and desk.
"Grandpa Noel was looking for something in all of this," he said to himself, scanning the clutter. "I wonder what it was…"
As he looked through the mess, one book stood out. It was a red leather-bound volume titled The Tears of the Three Princesses.
"--This is really bad, Hassun! Ezhno went out on a mission and hasn't come back!"
"Calm down, Kele. Maybe their mission is taking longer than usual."
William froze.
He recognized the names and the accent,The Drakon tribe. The other people who lived in The Lost Forest. It was rare for them to be in the outskirts of their tribe.
"That never happens, Hassun! I'm getting desperate. I even went to the elders and they brushed me off like it meant nothing!"
"Calm down. What was he sent to do?"
"He went with the expedition team to an undisclosed area. It had something to do with the fog surrounding the mountain. He never gave me the full detail. I'm just the cook, but you're part of team. You must know something about it."
It went silent between them until William heard a sigh, "Listen here. I will tell you because we've known each other since we were children, but this does not leave between us. Do you understand?"
"Yes, what is going on?"
"There's a place that was named by the expedition team as The Serpent's Path… A few days ago there was word about the fog clearing up."
"That's... impossible that blighted fog has surrounded that mountain for over 400 years."
"That's right. That is why one of the expedition teams went to see it for their own eyes. The fog did apparently cleared to them and found an entrance to go inside the mountain. Some say that it goes all the way to the other side. A path used for travel before being closed off by the fog."
"Are you saying my brother is part of the team that got sent to investigate inside? But they have not come back. Are they hurt? Did the elders sent them out to die?!"
"Don't say that out loud! Someone might hear you. Do you want to get us both killed?"
"I don't care! He must be dead!" The man sobbed.
"We… don't know that. We have to wait for the news."
William felt a pang of guilt. This was the second time he'd stumbled into a private conversation. It didn't feel right to be hearing this one.
"I don't get it," Hassun said. "why haven't they sent my team yet?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."
"Don't be stupid. You went to the elders already. They're keeping a close eye on you now. Hell, they're probably watching me, too. If we do anything about it now, we'd be done for."
"There has to be someone… what if we talk to her? No one hates the elders more than she does."
"It's a possibility. She might help. But for now, we lay low. No attention. Then we move."
A pause.
"…Hey, what's that smell?"
William tensed up.
"Ugh. It's the cursed one."
"It's getting strong."
"He must be close… but I don't see him anywhere."
They couldn't see or hear William, but he instinctively ducked beneath the desk.
"Let's get out of here. I don't want to see that horrendous freak of nature. I've got enough to deal with already."
"Right... Let's get back to the tribe."
Their footsteps faded into the distance. William let out a long sigh and crawled out from under the desk. He gave a nervous laugh that's were equal parts relief and embarrassment.
"Some hiding spot…" he muttered sarcastically.
No matter where he hid himself, his scent was a dead giveaway to the Drakon tribe. He had long since given up hoping for respect from them, but their words still stung.
"Horrendous freak of nature…"
He sat back in the chair and stared at the red book still resting on the desk.
Whatever his grandfather had been searching for, it had to be in here. Now that he was the owner of the house, it felt more important than ever to understand what Noel had left behind.
"Hm? What's this?"
***
The blacksmith was making his way back home, his mind still lingering on the documents he had read. Most of them pertained to the house, the land, and a few obscure notes that hinted at something more, but for now, he had sorted through the most important ones. It felt like enough for the day.
He was relieved not to have run into any members of the Drakon tribe on his way back. He didn't have the energy to deal with their hostility, not tonight.
"There you are!"
The shout caught him off guard.
Waiting at the front porch was someone he hadn't expected to see, yet somehow wasn't surprised about. A young man with striking golden blond hair stood there, practically buzzing with energy. As soon as he spotted the blacksmith, he bounded down the steps to meet him.
"Oh, it's you again." said William.
The boy stopped just short in front of him, eyes alight with determination. "So, it's you! You're the one I've been looking for this whole time… You're the one who's going to make me a hero!"