[center][h3]Town of Brent, Volksingen Canton, Vlaanburg Electorates[/h3][/center]


	It had been a long trip, but otherwise uneventful. The last of her currency she had acquired through careful pawning in Yarlene had been spent on the last few legs of the journey. Her and Arthur’s rump sore from the various wooden carriages, but thankfully that was all that was worn. They had spent the journey catching up as far as an adult and young child could, and playing sighting games, which dominated most of the time. 

	Elizabeth found a lot of joy having Arthur around again, and she couldn’t help but spend as much time as she could talking to him and pestering him, even when he desired to sleep or sit quietly. It had been so long, and every second spent in conversation was a second away from her own mind, which continued to haunt her nightmares and daydreams. Arthur humored his aunt, being a talkative child himself, but often times never held a topic, as a child is inclined to ignore conversational flow, and instead barraged her with random observations and questions, each of which she was happy to oblige. 

	The time went by quickly, and for the most part Elizabeth was allowed to put the last three years of events in the back of her mind, only to be reminded at night, or when she swore she saw something in the corner of her eyes. Her paranoia was taxing, and she often found herself counseling her own thoughts and talking to herself in the middle of the night. It was the only way she could lay out all her emotions and dreams without going insane, her saving grace being her self awareness and pure will. 

Either way, their journey too was in the past, the pair having arrived at Brent earlier that day. The village was small and quiet enough that her simply arriving offered her the opportunity to speak with the local parish leaders, an attempt at finally living a quiet and peaceful life and providing such for her nephew in arms reach. The people seemed to regard her with interest, but no more than any other stranger would gather, her identity long buried by her unimportance in this world, and her lack of reputation, but even still, she was careful not to use her or Arthur’s real names. 

Now Elizabeth found herself in the local church, sitting on a plain wooden chair and staring at the round, kindly face of Deacon Ruldoph, and another man, who’d introduced himself as Dietrich, captain of the local garrison. His own boy, Haans, was out in the fields now playing with Arthur, which at first made Elizabeth uneasy, not wanting to part with the child, but reluctantly accepted it as something she would have to let be. 

“Your arrival has been the talk of the town,” the deacon said with a smile. “It’s not often Brent receives visitors, least of all foreign ones. We’re a small, humble community, you see. You said your name was Caitlin, correct? What brings a woman like yourself to Brent, of all places, child in tow?”

“Correct,” Elizabeth lied, “and I hope you don't find it intrusive, but with all that is going on in Lynnfaire, I really didn’t have much elsewhere to go. I do not desire a city for my little Frederick, and I definitely don’t desire to stay in the battlegrounds of Kamwell. This is our final option, and we have spent all to get here.”

Rudolph gave her a sympathetic nod of his head. Though the corners of his eyes and lips were starting to wrinkle, his eyes glimmered with a youthful energy. “I understand your concerns, Caitlin. Long have I prayed for the peaceful resolution of Lynnfaire’s civil war and those who have suffered.” He took Elizabeth’s hand in a conciliatory gesture, gently sandwiching it between gnarled fingers, causing her to flinch ever so slightly. 

“Lynnfaire and Vlaanburg are like sister nations,” he said. “Even now, the Archon is involved with Queen Abigail’s war effort. I’m of the mind it will all come to an end soon, and the two of them have announced their intent to marry! I believe such a union will only benefit the people of both nations.” He let go of Elizabeth’s hand. “Oh, but I digress. You will find the sanctum you’re after in Brent. You’ve already met Captain Dietrich - he will help to situate a space for you. How old did you say your boy is?”

“Six,” Elizabeth answered, “six and a half,” she smiled, it was genuine and full of relief, “and thank you, Deacon. I too have heard the news, but I appreciate you opening your arms to me and my nephew.”

“Ah, how precious!” Rudolph sighed. “Dietrich has a boy around that age, too. I hope they should get along well. Now, please make yourself at home, Caitlin. If there’s anything I can do for you and your boy, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Oh I’m sure I won’t,” Elizabeth maintained her smile, “and if there is any work to be done, I will do my part. I admit I don’t know much outside damning and fish work, but I’m not a stranger to labor. I can read and write if that helps any, Frederick knows a little from me too.”

She nearly smudged Arthur’s made up name as she spoke, her voice clearly full of energy, long reserved for this moment, her body losing some of its tension. This was the happiest she had been in a long time, her first real chance at a normal life since the death of her family and her career at the cloister.

“Captain,” Rudolph said. “I’m sure we have a lodging we can spare Caitlin. Please show her around and make sure she’s settled!”

“Of course, Deacon,” Dietrich nodded and make to escort Elizabeth back down the parish’s hall. “If you’ll allow me?” He held out a hand to guide her. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, unused to the much more tactile nature of the Burgers, but she slowly connected her hand with Dietrich’s, allowing herself to be guided.

The pair of them left the church grounds, and for the next half-hour or so, Dietrich showed her around Brent, making note of its key structures, industry and general day-to-day happenings. As they walked, he spoke with a measure of pride. It was clear he took his duty seriously, and cherished the small, yet lively town. On the way, he’d mentioned the town’s run-in with a meagre force of rebels, although he claimed the garrison hadn’t needed to do much real fighting. The electors had strange, yet effective ways of keeping the peace. Once their leader had been plucked from the ground, the rest of them lost the will to fight and disbanded. 

“Fortunate, too, because if they’d all had his spirit, I’m honestly not sure how we’d have made out,” Dietrich said. “But that’s in the past and we’ve heard no heads nor tails of any more revolts. Next to that, you’re probably the next most interesting thing that’s happened to Brent in months!” 

“Well I hope it remains that way,” Elizabeth added, “not to say I want to remain the center of attention, but you can imagine how tired me and Frederick are of conflict.” 

“Of course. With the Serene One’s blessing and the garrison on duty, I should expect Brent will always be the peaceful place it has been.”

Elizabeth stared off to the side, banishing the faces of the dead and uncanny stares of the past that lingered in the shadows of each hovel. She silently listened to Dietrich before suddenly speaking again, “I think I’m ready to see my quarters, please.”

The pair ended up back at the parish after a time, after they’d retrieved Arthur and Haans from the fields, and this is where Dietrich told her they’d part ways. He guided her to the nuns’ quarters and left her in their care for the rest of the evening. They provided her with a clean bed and habits, welcomed her to the table at supper and then it was nightfall, and they made to retire.

Elizabeth laid down on her mattress. It was thin but stuffed with goose feathers, and such she found it comfortable. In reality she had no ounce of complaints in her, she was almost shocked at the intense generosity of the burgers. They had succeeded where her own cloister all those years ago failed, albeit it wasn’t completely their fault. 

She rolled to her side and sucked in a happy breath, the air holding the lingering scent of her linen blankets. She already missed Arthur. The boy had been sent to a room meant for altar boys, since children and men weren’t allowed in the cloister halls after dark and she almost regretted telling the Deacon she was a nun, if only to maybe get a closer room to her nephew. She knew it was for the best, the chances of them turning down a nun was a lot lower than that of a freeloader. In essence, that was what she was until she got settled, and she knew it. 

In her gut she had hoped she had retained her religious codes and manners, but in her heart she knew they wouldn’t mean as much to her as they once did, the acts hollow and of lip-service rather than faithful fervor. Either way, it was her first step back to a normal life, her hopes pushing Tribal’s words deep into the back of her mind, but her anxiety remained.

She laid there in thought for as long as she could, her eyes open wide in fear of falling asleep, but eventually the journey caught up with her, and without warning she found herself victim to another nightmare.

She woke with a start, her bloodshot eyes staring into the darkness next to her, filled with horror. She stifled a scream as the bloated face of Canam stared back at her. Elizabeth shot out of bed, stumbling and falling to the floor. She smacked into the wall looking for a striker, eventually finding it on her nightstand and lighting her lantern on the wall. An amber glow flooded her tiny room, revealing her torn apart bed and nothing more.

Her chest heaved and her eyes were frozen open. This was getting to be too much, she told herself. Slowly her heart beat calmed down and she sat defeated on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap, head on her knees. She was afraid she’d see something if she looked up, but couldn’t tell if that was worse than not knowing if something was there.

A thought popped into her head, one that sent a chill down her spine. What if she couldn’t stay here? What if she brought danger and death wherever she went? What if she couldn’t keep Arthur? She couldn’t stay if this was true, she couldn’t ruin the poor boy’s life, or any of the nice people of the village. What of Dietrich and his son? What of Randolph? She couldn’t have their faces join the ones in the shadows. Maybe she was just paranoid, maybe it would be alright, maybe in time. She didn’t know, she had no idea what to do.

She slumped over in the bed, the feathers poking at her side as she laid in absolute exhaustion. Perhaps these were thoughts for another time. She let her eyes closed, a short prayer on her lips. It felt strange, praying, it had been so long. She silently mouthed the words for mercy, for safety, for strength, slowly drifting to sleep as she mouthed for peace. 


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