"This is the grand church of the High Order of Barbell. Over there, the inns—you'll want to look for Betty; she's quite charming, a true servant of those in need," Stark explained, gesturing with a broad smile as he pointed out each place.
The roads twisted and turned, every alleyway boasting its own unique design. One wall in particular caught their attention—a vast mural of a dragon. Its gold and crimson scales seemed embedded into the stone like shards of ice, the pattern rising and falling with their steps. Yet its face was nowhere in sight, hidden as if by intention.
"Hello, hope you enjoy your stay," a woman called as they passed through the plaza. "Good day to you," the boys answered politely. "Good day… Hello… good morrow…" The greetings piled upon them from all sides, each passerby beaming with radiant smiles.
"Here, take these—they're the pride of my stall!" A short, round woman pressed and gestured to her fruits and veg stall. "No… no, we're quite all right," Remy stammered. "No, no, no money needed—it's a gift, take, take!" the woman insisted, thrusting a basket of shining red apples into their arms.
"Here, some bread!" Another vendor chimed in, his apron dusted white, handing them a fresh loaf.
And so it continued, hands stretching out with gifts of food, trinkets, kindness, until at last they left the market.
"The people of August are generous, aren't they?" Stark said, his smile unwavering. For the briefest of moments, a thin red light flickered in his eyes—but the boys did not notice.
"Say, Stark… Could you show us where we might find cheap lodging?" Chad finally asked.
"Ah—forgive me, truly. I almost forgot… The most basic thing a traveler needs is a place to rest his head." Stark's voice carried a tone of grief, too heavy for the words themselves. "How inconsiderate of me, when you've been pulling this cart the whole time."
"No, it's quite all right," Chad replied, though a faint flush of embarrassment touched his cheeks.
"Well then, if you would follow me…" Stark marched ahead. The road twisted and turned until they reached a steel street pole. Heatd, it read, pointing toward a row of close-set buildings.
Wooden signs creaked in the wind—Wembly, Gustav, Orclan. "Let's try this one first," Stark said, motioning toward Wembly.
"Stay here and watch the cart," Chad instructed before vanishing inside with him.
Charles glanced at Remy, whose brow was clenched in a scowl. "What is it?" he asked.
"…This place unsettles me," Remy murmured, his voice low. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I grew up rough, but people aren't this kind. Not without reason." His memory darted from face to smiling face, suspicion gnawing at him.
"It's just paranoia. Look at how much they've given us already," Charles said lightly, biting into one of the apples.
Remy watched him chew, the juice glistening on his lips. "…Maybe you're right," he muttered.
Moments later, Chad and Stark emerged from the inn. Chad's head was bowed, his steps heavy. "They said they're all out of space," he sighed, shaking his head. "Let's try the next one."
The boys followed as Stark led them toward a larger building down the strip.
To their dismay, that building had no available lodging either.
"How unfortunate," Stark sighed as they reached the last building on the strip. Then, suddenly, a spark lit his eyes. "Ah… you know what? I just thought of a wonderful idea." He stopped the boys in their tracks.
"You know what? Why don't you come live with me for the time being, until you get back on your feet? What do you think?" Stark's gaze lingered on them, steady and expectant.
"No… no, we don't mean to be a bother. You've done so much already," Remy said cautiously.
"Don't be silly. What bother? My family would be delighted to host you," Stark replied quickly, cutting Remy off. "Besides, you can't sleep in the streets just because you can't find lodging, can you?" His head tilted lightly, and he saw the flicker of indecision on their faces.
"What shall we do?" the boys whispered among themselves.
"Alright… let's do it," they finally agreed after a few moments. "We can't stay for free—we'll pay you," Chad added, his face firm with resolve.
"Alright… Then I see you insist on paying. There's no changing your mind," Stark conceded with a small smile.
"Well, then, let's be on our way," he said, leading the boys out of the town toward a more rural area of the region. Two horses had been hired to pull their carts, making the journey far more comfortable.
After some time, the landscape opened up. Large fields of wet earth stretched as far as the eye could see. Atop a small rise, a great house stood neatly, a sculpted portrait unfolding before it beneath a vast, blue sky.
The sound of galloping horses filled the air as they moved along the dirt road. The sun was setting, its red light painting the two moons now rising in the east. The sky shifted in shades of blue, purple, and crimson, as if someone had spilled paint across the heavens.
"Wow… look at that," Remy murmured, spotting a lone scarecrow in the fields. From afar, it was unnervingly lifelike—one might have thought a man tended the land.
The carriage finally reached the house, far more magnificent than they had imagined. Built of red brick, it rose two stories high. A small porch jutted out, a swinging bench gently swaying in the evening breeze.
"Clara, dear! I've brought visitors," Stark's voice boomed as he stepped down from the carriage.
"Clara!" The boys' eyes met in surprise.
"Mmmm… what's wrong?" Stark asked, turning back to them, his smile just slightly too wide, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.
"Nothing—it's just… we know someone named Clara," Charles said, unease creeping into his voice.
"Ohhh… what a wonderful coincidence! This must be fate," Stark exclaimed, his joy ringing loud, yet in the back of their minds, the boys couldn't shake the feeling that the coincidence might be too coincidental.