The interior of the orphanage was old but well-kept. The scent of dust and mold tingled Dean's nose as he stepped into the small entrance hall. It was dark and rustic. Creaky wooden planks for floors, a creaky shelf and numerous rusted coat hangers were nailed to the wall.
"Please take off those soggy boots and come warm yourselves by the fire," Layota said, gesturing towards the shelf.
They did as instructed. Dean struggled out of his large boots. Despite their size and material, his socks had still managed to get wet during the hike. He placed his boots on the shelf and then removed his heavy clothing.
"Here you go."
A small voice from below reached his ears. He turned around and saw a young girl holding up a towel.
"Uh, thank you." He said, taken by surprise at her sudden appearance. He took the towel and noticed that it had been warmed up.
The girl's straight black hair flowed down her back, and she looked no older than six or seven years old. He brought the towel up to his cold cheeks and enjoyed its warmth. He heard a laugh from sister Layota.
"Joan here was worried about the two of you. She insisted we let you in." She said.
"They looked cold! We can't just leave them there!" The young girl, Joan, said with a stern expression that looked a little out of place on a child.
"You're right, my dear. You did a good thing bringing them that towel," Layota said, patting the girl on the head.
Cait, who had also been handed a towel, was busy burying her face in it, clearly enjoying the soft warmth it provided. She reminded Dean of a cat rubbing itself against someone's leg.
They made their way through a doorway to the right of the entrance, which led to the living room. Dean felt warmth envelop him as he stepped inside. The source of that warmth, a roaring fire, was burning strong in the fireplace. There were two sofas on either side of the fireplace, separated by a coffee table. Layota gestured towards one of them, and they sat down.
"Thanks for letting us in." Dean said.
"Oh, it's alright. Be sure to thank little Joan. She came to get me when she saw you both outside."
Dean looked around, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
"She'll be back before long, I imagine. Make yourselves comfortable for the time being," Layota said.
Dean felt himself sink deep into the sofa. It was warm and pleasant to the point where he couldn't imagine himself getting up again for some time.
"It's a good thing you two are safe. It has been nothing but terrible news from the monastery since yesterday."
Dean remembered Rosetta lying in her bed, never to get up again. He fought back a dark feeling that was welling up from within his chest.
"Oscar was found dead in the river yesterday and today, young Rosetta..." Layota said, her voice cracking towards the end. She sniffled and brought a handkerchief to her eyes.
"Oscar's dead too?" Dean asked, his voice rising in shock.
Layota nodded sadly.
"And that's not all of it," Layota said, shaking her head. "Young Nicolas has all the young ones riled up. He's been telling them that everything that's happened has been the will of the Goddess, how can he use her name for such savage acts?"
Layota's voice had grown hoarse as she spoke. Her eyes were wide, and her bony hands gripped her dress tightly.
Dean remembered Nicolas' gaudy speech the day before. He had said something about three deaths, the first of which had involved water or something.
"He's gotta be setting this up himself," Dean said. "He has to be the one who killed Oscar and Addi."
Dean had no love for Oscar, but he didn't think the man had deserved death. Could Nicolas have had a hand in Rosetta's death as well? It hadn't looked like murder, but he was no forensic scientist. There was no way of being sure until the police arrived.
"I don't disagree, but the horrible thing is that many of the youths seemed to believe him. They joined him as he spoke and..." Layota took a deep breath. "Some of them are now going around with weapons."
Dean remembered seeing a security guard with weapons when he'd broken into the cathedral. How did Nicolas manage to get his hands on all that? To Dean he'd seemed little more than a ranting madman on the day of the festival.
"I don't see why they're following a lunatic so easily."
"You've been living in the city, so it might be difficult to understand, but the young people of this monastery have been living under Oscar's strict rules for some time now. There was not a small number who resented him for one reason or another, and that was especially true for the younger servants," Layota said.
Dean nodded.
"So a mutiny of some kind, but what's with all his pseudo religious nonsense?"
Layota went quiet for a while. Dean thought that perhaps he'd said too much. Layota was a devout member of the church after all.
"I don't know. They've been spreading rumors that Nicolas can speak to the Goddess and that those who follow him will be granted riches and happiness in their next life. You know our beliefs about death and rebirth, don't you?"
Dean nodded.
"It's been a while but I haven't forgotten."
It wasn't unusual for a religion to deal with death and the afterlife in various ways. The Mortian faith subscribed to the belief in reincarnation after death.
"He said that those who help him would be helping the Goddess directly and be given preferential treatment in the next life. Many of the youth here were very isolated and downtrodden. I can see why they'd want to believe in that."
"It sounds like you're not entirely convinced." Dean noted.
Layota shook her head.
"I'm just an old matron, I don't have any grand ideas. The only thing that matters to me is raising these children safely."
After that, silence settled on them for a time before Dean spoke again.
"I'm surprised you let us in at all. I mean, I haven't been around for so long and..." He said, glancing over at Cait.
Layota had not said a word to her since they'd arrived. It seemed that even Layota, the kindest person in the monastery, could not bring herself to treat Cait like a person.
"Dear, it's because you've been gone for so long that I could let you in. In fact, I worried you'd have been attacked given the zealotry those following Nicolas have shown. Those types wouldn't be kind to outsiders."
Dean felt a brief stab of anger.
"Enough about me. What about Cait? Don't tell me you would have left her out there if she'd been by herself?"
Layota expression grew troubled, and she quickly glanced at Cait before averting her eyes once more.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know her. Is she one of the tourists?" Layota asked.
Dean frowned and looked towards Cait. She was looking into the fire with a forlorn expression and showed no interest in joining the conversation.
Dean sighed. He should be thankful that Layota's kindness allowed her to pretend that Cait was an outsider to avoid confrontation. It was much preferable to Marianne's reaction.
"Do you still have that little library in the kid's room?" Dean asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation.
"You mean those old bookshelves filled with children's books?" Layota asked. "Of course, it was there before even I arrived."
Without a word, Cait got up and walked towards the door.
"Cait? Where are you going?" Dean asked.
"To the kid's room, I'd like to see those books again."
She had used the word 'again'. Had she really grown up here? Despite the reminder, Layota kept her silence and didn't acknowledge her words.
As Cait reached the door, it opened, and Joan stepped in slowly, carrying a tray of hot tea. Noticing Cait's approach, she stepped aside.
"Uhm, would you like..."
Without waiting for Joan to finish, Cait left the room. The door closed softly behind her.
"...some tea?"
Joan was left standing there awkwardly. After a moment, the tray began to shake, too heavy for the small girl, so she hurried over and placed it on the coffee table.
"Here you go." She said, handing a cup of warm tea to Dean.
Feeling the weight of her expectant stare, he smiled and thanked her before taking the cup in his hands. He felt the cup warm his stiff fingers and relaxed a little. He took a small sip and enjoyed the subtle warm flavor.
"Thank you. It's delicious." He said to Joan.
She smiled happily and nodded. He wasn't lying to make her feel better. Having been out in the freezing weather for so long, the tea was comparable to ambrosia. He turned to Layota.
"Is it ok for her to be making and bringing us tea at her age?" Dean asked Layota.
"Hey don't talk about me like I'm not here! I'm old enough for this job." Joan retorted.
Sister Layota covered her mouth to silence a small giggle.
"Joan's been like this for some time. She's quite proud of her ability to help around the house," she said with pride.
Dean watched as the young girl dutifully placed a cup of hot tea before Layota. She worked with an efficiency and grace that would have surpassed many servants he had seen in the guest house.
"You be sure to drink this up too, Mother. It's still freezing outside, and you may catch a chill."
"Oh dear, it seems my position as Matron is being usurped." Layota laughed.
She rubbed Joan's head, who grumbled a complaint but didn't resist.
"I'm going to go give that girl her tea. She's probably still freezing." Joan said as she picked up the tray and walked towards the door.
She carefully sat the tray on the ground, opened the door, bent down again to pick up the tray and left. It took a few moments before she could leave the room. The entire ordeal took much longer time than normal because of her small size, but she managed to move the tray out of the room without spilling a single drop. Hold on, did she say she was going to serve Cait some tea? Was she actually willing to interact with Cait in the first place? Dean wanted to question the girl about her feelings towards Cait but a sudden noise distracted him.
"What are you all doing here?"
With the door half-open, Dean could see Joan talking to a group of children on the other side.
"We want to see the strangers too!" came a bossy-sounding voice. There was a chorus of agreement.
"The guests are still warming themselves up. Come back later!" Joan argued.
"You're not Momma!"
"Yeah!"
The protests rang loud and clear, and before long an argument erupted.
"Never a dull moment here." Layota chuckled. "Hope you don't mind a little company?"
Dean shook his head.
"Not at all!" Dean said while waving his hand. "It's their house at the end of the day."
Layota smiled.
"Joan dear, it's alright, you can let them through."
Though seemingly unconvinced, Joan begrudgingly stepped aside with a "Humph" before continuing down the hall with her tray.
"I'm going to get an earful for that later," Layota said.
What came after was a chaotic wave of pure energy. A cluster of children stormed into the room, eyes fixed firmly on Dean. The one at the front, a young boy with curly brown hair, reached him first.
"Hey hey, who are you? Are you a burgoolur?, a bargler man?" The young boy asked. Dean assumed he was trying to say the word 'burglar'.
Many voices echoed similar questions, and Dean was left at their mercy. He looked for help in Layota though she ignored his plea, shirking her matronly responsibilities.
Realising that no help would come, Dean resigned himself to the onslaught and tried to answer as many questions as he could with his friendliest smile.
"No, I live in the city It's far away from here."
"No, I'm not a ghost."
"No, she's not my girlfriend."
The questions kept coming, and before long, the curly-haired boy was sitting on his lap and messing with his coat buttons. The boy's name was Mark and, for some unknown reason, he'd taken a liking to Dean. He spent much of his time on Dean's lap fighting off the other children as if Dean's lap were some sort of goal in a king-of-the-hill style game.
One little girl even burst out crying and went to sit on Layota's lap instead. Dean wondered if he and his friends had been this energetic in their younger years.
After what seemed like hours, most of the kids lost interest and began playing among themselves. Mark was now sitting next to Dean, showing him a picture he'd drawn earlier.
"This is my dog, my dog."
While the picture resembled hell-spawn more than any kind of dog he'd ever seen, Dean smiled and praised the boy. He had a habit of repeating his words, which Dean assumed to be just another quirk of being young.
"Mark, what did I say about repeating your words like that?" Layota asked sternly.
Mark looked at Layota when she spoke but gave little reaction before returning to an explanation of his picture.
"He keeps and bad guys away, away. He really does, really does!"
"Mark!" Layota shouted.
Mark flinched and grumbled a little before falling silent, his gaze downcast.
"It's ok. I don't mind him talking about his picture." Dean said.
Layota looked a bit apologetic.
"He's getting older now. He can't go on speaking like that forever. Please try not to encourage him."
"Oh, alright." Dean whispered.
Dean wasn't sure what the big deal was, but he wasn't about to disagree. She'd been raising children longer than he'd been alive.
"Even so, he seems to have grown attached to you right quickly, hasn't he?"
Dean looked doubtfully at the boy, who'd somehow found a pencil and was making further unnecessary alterations to the dog.
"He needs to fly, fly uh-huh"
Layota glared at the boy but, conscious of Dean's presence, decided not to berate him further.
They spent another hour or so relaxing and engaging in light conversation. There was a lot to talk about, but Dean knew better than to bring some of it up within earshot of the children.
"Well then, it's time we started making dinner." Layota said, clapping her hands.
"Aww, but I want to stay, stay stay." Mark complained.
"You'll see him at dinner." Layota replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Oh, it's ok you don't have to feed us too." Dean asked.
He already felt that he had long over-stayed his welcome. Escaping the mountain was no longer possible, but he could still make it back to the guest house.
"Nonsense, feeding you is the least I could do. You'll also be staying the night, no arguing!"
Dean made to protest, but a stern expression from Layota kept him quiet. He could always leave early tomorrow morning. The sooner he returned to the guest house, the sooner he could help those who had locked themselves inside.
The children were ushered out of the room and, in Mark's case, dragged by the arm. Layota turned to Dean while leaving.
"That girl — Cait you called her? She should be in the girl's room upstairs. Do be sure to knock before entering though, Joan is very serious about that rule."
She closed the door behind her. And Dean felt himself relax somewhat in the resulting silence.
"Kids are more exhausting than hiking in a blizzard." He said to himself with a fond smile.
His mind lingered on the children for a moment. It was hard to believe they were living not five minutes away from the site of a serial murder. He hadn't even spared a thought about them until now, being too caught up in his own problems.
What was he to do about them? Layota was taking precautions by locking the door, but that would hardy be enough. Would Nicolas and Maria keep to themselves in the Monastery? Dean knew better than to trust a madman to stay put.
He thought about helping Layota protect the children or taking them to the guest house. Despite her difficult personality, Marianne could be relied upon to protect them. It was also important to stay together in times like these.
He left the living room and climbed the old wooden stairs up to the second floor. As he climbed, he could hear excited shouting and the clanking of utensils from the kitchen. The second floor was much quieter in comparison, and he could hear the old floorboards groaning under his weight.
Near the landing were two rooms clearly labeled boys and girls. He approached the girl's room and quietly knocked.
"Who is it?" came Joan's voice from inside.
"It's me, Dean." He responded.
"Oh, the stranger? You can come in."
Dean opened the door and looked around inside. The room was rather large, with six bunk-beds lined up on either side. The carpet was whitish pink, and the wallpaper was all white and pink stripes. It was a mirror image of the blue and white color scheme of the boy's room across the hall. Whoever decorated both rooms certainly lacked imagination.
Cait and Joan were sitting on the carpet with books on their laps. Neither looked up at Dean as he approached.
A pile of books lay next to them. They seemed to be a mixture of fairy tales and religious storybooks for children. Dean recognized many of them from the times he'd visited as a child.
"Hey, this looks real nice. A reading party, is it? Let me join." Dean said brightly.
Joan turned to the pile of books and after a moment of searching, pulled a single book from the pile.
"Here you are." Joan said, handing him the book without delay.
"Thank you very much." Dean replied.
Dean took the book and sat down cross legged on the floor.
The book he had been given was a children's book written by the church. Dean had long ago lost interest in those kinds of books but, noticing Joan's expectant stare, he opened the book and began to read.
"It's my favorite," Joan said.
"You like these kinds of books?" Dean asked
"Of course!" Joan said proudly, "The Priestesses are all very cool. They help people and punish the wicked!"
"I see," Dean said. He made an effort to keep a smile on his face.
Joan's eyes bounced between Dean and the book. Dean, taking the hint, started to read.
The story told of two greedy noble brothers who didn't get along. After their father passed, the two brothers began to fight over his lands.
For many long months, the two brothers sent their soldiers to fight each other, and the people of the kingdom suffered greatly.
When things were at their worst, the Priestess appeared and brought the teachings of the Mortian fate to the kingdom. Using her kindness and her wisdom, she convinced the brothers to share the land equally, and they all lived happily ever after.
All in all, it was a very simple story with the morals of the church as its theme. It preached that communication and faith could quell the fires of any war.
Dean peaked at Joan from over the book's cover. She was still looking at him with hopeful eyes. Had she been looking at him this entire time? He rested the book on his lap and took a breath.
"That was a beautiful story." He said.
"You liked it?" She said, crawling over to him excitedly. He leaned back a little, cowed by the energy displayed by the young girl.
"I sure did." He said. "It's important to talk things out rather than turning to violence at the first opportunity." He honestly wished more people followed that line of thought.
Joan looked at him for a moment, her smile dropping slightly. Realising he probably hadn't said enough, he continued,
"The priestess herself was very brave to stand between two great armies, wasn't she?" he blurted.
Joan nodded.
"The priestess is the coolest. I'll be just like her someday!"
Dean smiled. While he had reservations about the church itself, the message in the book had simply been about working towards peace over violence. If she could follow that message, then she'd turn out alright. He supposed that her hospitality skills had also come from her fascination with the priestesses.
Dean flicked through the pages. A story about the Priestess made memories of Addi return to him unbidden and he had to bite his lip to keep his emotions from sowing.
"The girl in the story is the Priestess, right?" He asked.
Joan nodded.
"So you want to be the Priestess?"
The girl nodded again, stronger and more assured than before.
Dean looked away from her for a moment and out the nearby window. He wasn't one to shatter a child's dreams, but he desperately wanted to steer her away from it. Addi was probably killed because of her position.
"Hey kid, it's great that you want to be a Priestess and help people, but there are other ways. You could become a doctor or a caregiver."
Joan shook her head.
"No thanks, the Priestess is the most powerful person in the world. She can do all sorts of things a doctor never could! She can heal wounds that would otherwise kill a person and also be sure that person would have a happier life next time. No doctor could do that!"
Dean remembered the time he'd spent with Addi before the festival. She had been trapped in a position she had never wanted.
"Do you remember Addi, the old priestess?" He asked. "She was the kindest person I've ever known. I don't think she'd want another young person saddled with all those responsibilities." He said gently.
He decided he would subtly remind the girl of the incident during the festival, hoping to scare her off.
"That faker wasn't a real priestess!" Joan shouted, getting to her feet.
Dean, taken by surprise, gaped at the sudden outburst. Cait, who'd been lost in a book, looked up with wide eyes.
"Some greedy men chose her to be the Priestess. It wasn't the Goddess who chose her!" Joan cried.
Dean got up on his knees and tried to lay a hand on girl's shoulders to calm her down, but she slapped his hand away. Her behavior reminded Dean of Nicolas for a moment.
"You shouldn't talk about the dead like that, kid. Didn't Layota ever teach you that?" he asked firmly, yet gently hoping to calm her down.
"That girl was a sinner! I hope she's burning in hell now that...ack!"
Joan's rant was interrupted by Cait's hand smacking her lightly on the head. Her shouting stopped, and she looked up at Cait, tears forming in her eyes.
"It's not good to talk about people like that," Cait chided.
"Listen here, kid. Do you think the Priestess would like to see you talk like that? Doesn't your book here tell you to be nice to people even if you have your disagreements?" Dean asked, bending over so that he was eye level with the girl.
Joan nodded slightly but couldn't bring herself to say anything as she tried to hold her tears back.
Joan was still young and probably hadn't come to understand death in a way adults did. While her words were horribly insensitive, she probably didn't mean them in the same way an adult would.
"The Priestess in your book was wonderful. She's kind to everyone, right? Even ones who make mistakes."
Joan looked up, her cheeks red.
"How about you tell me all about her after dinner?" Dean suggested.
Joan's eyes widened a little, and she sniffed loudly before speaking.
"You really want to talk about her?"
"Sure do!" Deans said, nodding.
"You promise?"
"Swear on my life." He responded.
He held out his pinky finger, and after a moment of hesitation, Joan did the same.
"The Goddess says it's really bad to break a promise, you know," Joan warned.
"Don't worry, I don't break promises." Dean assured her.
Joan seemed more or less convinced and nodded happily. Eventually, she and Cait went back to their reading.
"How do you like it?" Cait asked.
Joan looked at the cover of the book she was holding. It was a fairy tale from the looks of it.
"I haven't read many books like this. I like the part where the girl finds her magical friend though. He's so funny! How about yours?"
Cait smiled
"Any story with Priestess Itsuyana in it is fun to read." She said.
Joan beamed a smile. It seemed as if the two were exchanging books. Despite the prior incident, Dean was happy to see the two get along. Everybody else had treated Cait as if she weren't even there at best and like a criminal at worst.
A knock came on the door immediately followed by it swinging open, revealing Mark on the other side.
"Mark, what did I say about waiting for me to let you in!" Joan shouted, rushing to the door.
"But Dean's already in here, why can't I come in like him?"
"Because he knocked and asked nicely to come inside!" Joan countered.
Mark started pushing the door open, but Joan responded by putting her full weight behind the door.
"That's no fair!" Mark whined. "Let me in too!"
Sensing an escalation, Dean made his way over to the door, followed by Cait. He stepped between the two children.
"Now, now. I'm sure there's a reason he's here. Want to tell us, Mark?"
Mark nodded.
"Dinner is ready, so you guys should come downstairs."
"Why did you try so hard to get into the room even if you're only here to deliver a message?" Dean asked, confused.
"Because Joan doesn't let me in!" Mark shouted. "I wanted to see what the girl's room looked like!"
Dean wondered how Layota ever put up with these children.
"Ok, well for now why don't we all head downstairs. I'm starving."
Joan nodded.
"Come on, Mark, you can read with us later."
Mark grumbled a complaint but allowed himself to be led away by Joan. Dean and Cait followed them downstairs.
The dining hall had to be rather large to support all the orphans. Four long rectangular tables were arranged side by side, almost filling the entire room. Each table sat eight or so children. The walls were undecorated, having white radiators at regular intervals. The room was rather subdued for a large group of children, many probably sensing something was wrong.
Sister Layota was busy carrying out bowls of soup from the kitchen and barking orders at some kids who were busy setting the table. The entire room seemed to function on organised chaos. It made standing around twiddling your thumbs extremely stressful, so both Dean and Cait volunteered themselves to help set up for dinner.
Layota, who looked tired, smiled in appreciation, and they got to work. Soon enough, all the dishes were set out. Vegetable soup, grilled fish and boiled potatoes made for a simple but filling meal.
Before they began to eat, Layota led in a short group prayer of thanks, which Dean and Cait could only imitate awkwardly. Joan, on the other hand, prayed even longer than Layota did, while Mark started eating his food before the prayer had finished.
Dean was sitting next to Layota and Cait at one end of the far right table. He leaned towards Layota and spoke.
"That girl, Joan. Was she always so..."
Dean left the question unfinished. He wasn't sure how to word it exactly, but Layota seemed to understand his meaning.
"Joan was brought here by Methaeus a few years ago. He wouldn't tell me any details about her, but even at a young age, she took the teachings very seriously, even more than I do," Layota replied with a small laugh.
"Don't you find it strange for a seven-year-old to act so... devout?"
Layota's expression turned dark for a moment.
"A lot of these children have had hard lives before coming here. Joan is a great help around the house, so I try to make sure she feels welcome, just like all the rest of the children."
Dean noticed that Layota hadn't really given her opinion on the matter, but he decided to stay quiet. Joan was currently eating very formally, using her knife and fork to gently separate her food. The very picture of a noblewoman.
"She may seem odd to people from the outside, but she cares for the others and me in her own way without ever asking anything in return. She has the heart of a true saint, that child."
Dean recalled how Joan had reacted to Addi's name. Was Layota simply turning a blind eye, or had Joan only revealed that behavior to Dean?
"Did Joan have anything against Addi?" he asked.
Layota paused in the process of cutting the fish with her knife. Looking down at her food, she said nothing for a few seconds.
"Not that I know of. Why'd you ask?"
Fine, keep your secrets. Dean thought.
It wasn't like raising these children was any of his business. Still, more than anger, he felt sorry for Joan and the rest of the children, isolated as they were and relying on the monastery and Oscar's money to raise them. Suppose it was better than living on the streets. An old memory of a white-haired girl begging in the capital flashed before his eyes. He paid it no mind and continued to eat.
"So, about everything that's happened, what do you plan on doing from now on?" He asked Layota quietly.
"Plan? We don't plan on doing anything. We'll keep to ourselves as we have always done and let whatever is going on at the monastery run its course," Layota replied.
"But you're not safe here by yourselves!" Dean protested. "The windows are too large, and you've got children running around all over the place."
While she was taking some precautions, there was only so much one old lady could do against armed men.
"Would we be any safer at the monastery where those murders are taking place?" Layota asked.
Dean didn't have anything to say about that. There probably wasn't anywhere that was completely safe. Most of the buildings around were large, with too many entrances.
"I have something to ask you, young man." Layota said, placing her knife and fork on the table and turning to face him.
"Could you stay here until the blizzard passes? Despite what I said, I'm still worried about the children. Having a young man around would put this old lady's heart at ease."
Dean hesitated. He had wanted to continue his push towards the neighboring village the next day, but the longer he spent at the orphanage, the more he felt like he couldn't just leave them. It was beginning to appear that leaving the monastery had been a bad idea. He was also worried about how Matin and the others were getting on.
"I don't know how much I could be of help. The men at the cathedral had guns." He said.
Layota laughed softly.
"So does this old lady, my boy."
Dean nearly choked on his food.
"You have a gun?" he asked in a low voice.
Layota nodded.
"At an orphanage?"
She nodded again, taking a sip of water from her glass.
"Let's just call it a hobby of mine and leave it at that, shall we?" Layota said.
Dean was once again convinced that these people were insane. Next to him, Cait pulled a fish bone from her mouth and regarded it with contempt.
"You're not even listening to us, are you?" Dean asked.
Cait frowned and tilted her head slightly at the question.
Dean sighed and pinched his nose and thought for a moment.
"I'll stay." He said.
He had tried to reach the nearby village but had somehow ended up right back where he started despite having only gone downhill. He didn't even want to think about how that happened. It was better to stay and confront the problem directly before he lost any more of his friends.
After dinner, they helped clear the table and wash the dishes. Everyone in the building lent a hand, but Joan worked the hardest while instructing the other children what to do.
"You're really working hard, kid," Dean said as he set down a stack of dirty plates he's been carrying next to the sink. Joan looked at him and nodded.
"We have to make sure this place is perfectly neat and tidy." She declared.
Dean cracked a smile.
"Why, is the president coming over for a visit?"
Joan frowned.
"What's a president?" She asked.
"Nothing, don't worry your pretty little head about it. Don't forget to relax sometimes too. You'll go bald early if you keep this up."
Joan looked at him with a confused face before shaking her head and giving him a glare.
"If you have time to talk, then you have time to clean those dishes, mister."
"Yes, your ladyship." Dean said sarcastically.
"Yes, your ladyshiiiip."
Mark, who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere with extra plates, echoed Dean's words. Once again, this caused a slight altercation between the two kids, which Dean was forced to diffuse.
Dean spent the rest of the night entertaining Joan by talking to her about the various Priestesses throughout history, and before long, it was time for the children to go to bed. Layota didn't decide that. Joan did. After a prayer of thanks, she raised her voice and herded the children into their respective bedrooms.
Not wanting to leave the children on their own in the hallways and bedrooms, Dean and Cait helped them as they got ready. They prepared for bed with such discipline and efficiency that it made Dean's habits downright shameful in comparison.
"With how things are now, I am retired in all but name," Layota said fondly as she watched.
It was decided that Dean would sleep in the boys's room while Cait and Layota would join the girls. Most of the doors would be locked, and they'd take turns on watch in the hallway. The doors to the bedrooms would be left open so the person on guard could see inside in case anyone tried to get in through the windows.
Once the children had gone to sleep, Layota took Dean down to the basement. She opened a locked cabinet to reveal a well-maintained hunting rifle.
"Hunting is popular around these parts," Layota explained. "Do you remember the man who was in the salon, Mitch?"
Dean thought back for a moment and remembered the dark-haired, sinister-looking man who had stopped a fight between Marianne and Maria. He nodded.
"He's an arms dealer. Shady sort. Can't say I approve of him at all, but Oscar had his reasons I suppose."
Layota took the gun from its stand and handed it to Dean along with a box of ammunition. The gun felt heavy in his hands, and he held it rather awkwardly.
"Oscar was bringing an arms dealer to this place?" He asked incredulously.
Layota nodded.
"Methaeus and I strongly disapproved, but Oscar had his own plans for this country set in motion. We couldn't do anything to change his mind."
"I see," Dean said.
"Normally, I'd keep something like this far away from here, but in times like this even I can see a use for it."
Dean nodded. He had his reservations. Why did a remote mountain village need an arms dealer in the first place? Surely they didn't need to go that far for a few hunting rifles. It all tied into Oscar's plan. Had he really intended to turn things violent during the next election? Well, they'd never know, now that the man was dead. His son, on the other hand, looked to be taking advantage of the supply of weapons in his father's absence.
Dean volunteered to take first watch. Layota, as sprightly as she was for her age, was still an elderly woman, and the day had taken a lot out of her.
Cait also wasn't a wise choice. Whatever had happened to her had left her woefully inexperienced at pretty much everything, from talking to people to having any real sense of danger. He planned to watch for danger the entire night, even though they had decided to take shifts.
The hallway fell quiet as Layota left to sleep in the girl's rooms. She had her own room but had decided to stay with the children for now. Dean sat in a chair facing down the hallway towards the staircase, which descended into darkness.
Each time there was a sound from inside or out, he found himself snapping to attention and straining his ears to ensure that whatever it was didn't pose a threat. It was going to be a long, stressful night.
After an hour or so, Dean heard small footsteps from the boy's room. When he looked to his left, he found Mark standing there, rubbing his eyes.
"The light's too bright." He muttered.
Not wanting to spook the child, Dean tried his best to hide the gun on his right.
"Sorry kid, it can't be helped. Just close your eyes, and you'll be asleep in no time."
Martin shook his head.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"I'm scared."
Mark's eyes looked slightly beyond Dean. It was impossible to hide the gun entirely. Dean sighed.
"I'll make sure no one hurts you, I promise."
He wanted to put Mark at ease and let him have a good night's sleep.
"Let me help you." Mark said. "I keep watch at our tree house all the time."
Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair for a moment. Telling the boy off would be the best idea. He'd only get in the way if something bad happened and there was a risk he'd be injured or worse. However, Dean had realised he was likely to fall asleep while on watch. Having Mark there to help keep him awake might be a good idea.
"Alright, fine." Dean said.
He grabbed a nearby chair and cushion and motioned Mark to sit down. The boy did as instructed.
"Are we going to die?" Mark asked suddenly.
"What? No, of course not." Dean said, keeping an eye on the hallway. "Who said that?"
"Joan said we shouldn't be scared of dying, that we'll just be reborn like the Goddess. She says If we're good we can have a happier life next time."
That girl did more preaching than anyone he'd met so far. She'd get along well with Nicolas.
"If I die, will I have a nice mom and dad next time?" Mark asked, looking up at Dean with wide, hopeful eyes.
Dean gritted his teeth. This sounded too close to what Nicolas had been harping on about. Why were these people so obsessed with death?
"You can have a nice mom and dad in this life." Dean muttered.
"Really, when?" Mark asked with a hint of desperation.
"Soon, I'll even help you find them."
Dean lived in a big city. He was sure that there'd be a more accessible place for adoption there than out here in the middle of nowhere. These kids deserved happiness now, not some vague promises of happiness after death.
"I want them now." Mark said impatiently, though there seemed to be a sluggishness coming from his voice.
Mark was beginning to slouch in his seat, his eyes blinking slowly.
"Wow, that was fast." Dean muttered.
Within a few moments, Mark was sleeping soundly. Dean made to get up and go grab a blanket for him, but he was beaten to it. Joan stepped out of the girl's bedroom, blanket in hand. She gently placed it on Mark before looking up at Dean.
"It's not good for him to be sleeping out of his bed, you know. He might catch a cold."
"Look who's talking." Dean retorted. "Shouldn't you be asleep too?"
"I'm not sleeping tonight either." Joan said. Dean shook his head and put on his best stern expression.
"Little ladies need their sleep to grow, you know?"
Joan frowned and put her hands on her hips.
"The matron might trust you to keep watch, but you're still a stranger. I need to keep an eye on you."
Well, aren't you a brave one? Dean thought to himself. She had a spine if she could say that to a guy holding a rifle.
"I heard from Mark that you've been putting weird ideas into the heads of the kids here. Something about it being ok to die?" Dean noted.
Joan flared up once again at that comment but had the sense to speak in a hushed tone.
"Only the teachings of the Goddess. I didn't tell them to look for death, only that it isn't the end and a better life will be waiting for them on the other side if they live a good honest one now. An outsider like you wouldn't understand."
He was about to tell her that he had spent his entire childhood here, but was he really going to argue with a child on the concept of the afterlife? Dean wondered if he would have been better off staying at the monastery. Meanwhile, Joan stared him down as if daring him to argue.
"It sounds nice, starting over," Dean offered in an attempt to be diplomatic.
Having the chance to try again was tempting, but didn't life have meaning because it had an end? Starting over again sounded like a cheap cop out to him. It wasn't a healthy mindset, especially considering the rise in suicide rates in certain countries these days, particularly in rural areas.
"But I think we need to focus on enjoying our current life to the fullest before we start worrying about the next. Kids especially shouldn't be worrying about these things."
"With what's happening now, don't you think we should be? There are a lot of wicked men walking around tonight." Joan said as she took a seat next to him.
Dean felt a chill run down his spine, and he gripped the gun tighter. He didn't need to be reminded of that.
"I won't let them harm you." Dean assured.
Joan giggled softly.
"Sorry, but there's only one of you and so many of them. Also, they have a firm belief that what they're doing is right."
"Well, what about my beliefs?"
Joan turned to look at him, her brows slightly furrowed as if what he'd said had surprised her.
"Just cause I don't follow your beliefs, doesn't mean I don't have any of my own. Wish you religious types realised we're not so different."
"Then what are your beliefs, mister? What do you think happens after you die?"
What a crazy question to be asking in the middle of the night! Well, he'd humor her for now. He needed to keep talking in order to stay awake. He thought of Addi, the girl he couldn't save. Was there anything left of her now that she had departed this world? For sure, it was comforting to think that she was still out there, somewhere.
"I don't know how to explain it properly." He replied somewhat awkwardly. "I suppose if you treat yourself with kindness, then it becomes easier to help others. You can share that kindness more easily and have a happy life. Well, that's the idea anyway."
"Aren't you afraid that all that kindness will be meaningless after you die?"
Dean cracked a smile.
"Well, if I live my best life and am kind to others, then surely if there is something after this life, I'll be well taken care of. What do you think? If I live my life well and do good, will your Goddess forgive my cynicism?"
"Cynicism?" Joan asked, sounding out each letter carefully.
"How I don't really believe in another life after dying." He clarified. "What does the goddess think of good people who don't know about her but still follow her teachings?"
"She rewards those who do good in her name with a new and better life as part of the cycle." Joan said as if reciting details for a test.
"Sounds like pretty much any other religion to me. It all boils down to doing good and being rewarded in the afterlife." He said.
It was a shame most failed to follow that simple principle.
"Didn't you hear me? I said, 'do good in her name', which means you need to believe in her first."
Dean raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Ok, ok. I believe. Will the Goddess let me into her secret special club now?"
"Are you making fun of me?" Joan asked with a hint of anger.
"Not at all." Dean replied.
Joan sighed, her shoulders slumping.
"I don't think you're a bad person, mister. You just need to have a bit more faith."
"Thank you for the seal of approval, your Holiness."
Joan made a face at him, after which they settled into peaceful silence.
Dean couldn't make heads or tails of Joan. If anything, she seemed much more suited to a religious position than Addi had ever been. He couldn't help thinking for the first time, just how did they go about choosing a new priestess?
Joan occasionally walked up and down the corridor as if on patrol while Mark slept peacefully beside him. Dean reminded himself that despite everything, they were still kids. They had so much ahead of them, so much to look forward to. For the first time since losing Addi and Rose, he felt a new sense of purpose well up within him. Under no circumstances and for no reason should their potential be taken from them. For the first time since Addi's death, he felt a new sense of purpose well up within him. He would make sure these children survived this ordeal or he would die trying.