After a tense moment, Reynald decided to let go of his sword. I let out a sigh of relief, at least we are spared of trouble.
"Pardon us, sire. Where is the nearest town? If you don't mind me asking."
I asked, This place is foreign to me, and I don't think I could navigate it just yet. At least not without a map.
"Nearest town?"
The soldier asked, raising an eyebrow at my unexpected question. He looked at the other soldiers behind him, but they just shrugged.
"Perhaps you're not from here. Allow me and my men to escort you back."
I looked at Reynald — his expression calm and collected, as if we didn't just break the law of time. It would be best not to be lost in a world that I don't recognize. Moreover, I still have many questions for the bastard who brought me here.
I turn my gaze back to the soldier.
"We will oblige."
He nodded at my response as he started to move in a direction, and his men followed behind. At this point, I don't know what or who to trust.
Just as I was lost in thought, I saw Reynald already following behind them — how is this man easily trusting anyone?
I shake off my thoughts. I must focus. The priority now is to manage the next step in this voyage.
I keep up with them until I walk side by side with Reynald. As we walked, I noticed the dire situation of the surrounding area. Houses burned down, explosion holes everywhere, and corpses slowly rotting amidst this hellfire.
I stopped when I saw a wounded soldier leaning against a boulder. Perhaps he is still alive? I approached the wounded soldier, taking his cold hand to check his pulse.
A shame.. this man has long departed.
I clasped my hands together in prayer.
"Che la morte ti dia la pace che cercavi. requiescat in pace."
May death be the end of their dreams.
The momentary silence was broken by the soldier who was riding the horse.
"Soldiers don't find peace here, this isn't the land of peace."
He gazes down on me.
"If you don't mind me asking, where are you two from, strangers? Your clothes don't seem to be from this part. Are you both merchants? Or aristocrats perhaps?"
I looked up to him.
"I'm from Paris, this man, however.."
Reynald doesn't sound like a French name. Thinking back, I never asked him about his nationality. Well, it's not my fault that I got caught up in this situation in the first place.
"England, land of the Queen."
The soldiers in front of us suddenly narrow their eyes, as if expecting hostility. Then, each one of them unsheaths their swords and points them towards Reynald.
"You're an Englishman, state your business in Orleans, or face the consequences of your people's action."
I raised my hands, afraid to move even a single muscle. Reynald however, didn't even bother to lift a finger, yet he remained in his calm posture — has he gone mad?
"Now, now. Gentlemen, let us not make a scene here; we are not yet out of danger, aren't we?"
How could he have the audacity to say that? If I'm not wrong, we are currently in the Hundred Years' War, a conflict between Britain and France. Of course, they would suspect him of being a British insider.
"Don't try to change the subject, you English bastard. Are you a spy? A paid assassin? State your business, or we'll have you rot in the dungeon with your fellow."
Reynald raises his hands in a mock surrender, but a grin can be seen on his lips.
"My good sir, I'm simply a traveler. Traveling the world with my.. companion here."
He turns to me. What do you mean companion? I barely know you, dimwit. But I guess there's no other way out of this.
"Yes, sir, we are both travelers, we are on our way to Hispania."
I attempted to cover up the lie Reynald made, hoping it was convincing enough.
"I see.. Withdraw your weapons, soldiers."
The soldiers hesitated for a moment, torn between delivering justice to their people and following an officer's order.
In the end, they decided to obey and sheathed their swords. Their faces, however, were filled with grief and anger.
The officer dismounted his horse and walked up to us. Examining our faces with a skeptical look.
"You have thirty days here, and I expect you to leave France at all costs after this term. However, betray my trust, and you will know the wrath of Lord Gilles de Rais."
The threat hung in the air, Gilles.. I know that name, lord of Brittany.
World's first serial killer.
— Penning a new chapter…