Chapter 243: The Chapel
At the center of the village, the big room inside the old chapel felt nothing like the quiet place of prayer it used to be. Rows of wooden benches had been pushed against the walls to make space. Makeshift beds of blankets and straw covered most of the floor. The air hung heavy with the smell of too many bodies pressed close together, also with sweat, damp wool, and the faint smoke from a small fire pit someone had set up near the back. Lanterns and cheap candles hung from hooks on the thick wooden walls, their light flickering over the faces of around two hundred people who had fled the outer settlements.
Among these two hundred people, there were no children running around. Let alone someone younger than twenty. Most of them were just adults, women with tired eyes and a few older men who moved slowly, helping where they could. Some sat in small groups, passing around cups of water or pieces of hard bread. Others lay on their sides, staring at nothing.
The Fiora tribe members who came with them stood out among them. Their leather wraps and simple markings all over their body and faces made them easy to spot as they moved through the crowd, keeping order or distributing things.
Verna, a tall, older Fiora woman with gray streaks in her braided hair, was barking orders at two younger hunters. “Keep the water line moving. Don’t let anyone take more than their share. We don’t know how long this will last.”
Her voice carried across the room, firm but not unkind. The younger woman who was listening to her nodded and went back to handing out portions.
Near the front of the chapel, Priest John knelt on a prayer mat. Two women sat before him, heads bowed as he murmured blessings, his hands raised over them. His apprentices stood a few steps behind, a man around thirty with a serious face and another, a woman, a bit younger, maybe twenty-six, holding a small book of prayers, pressed to her chest. John’s voice stayed low and steady, using the same tone he uses during regular services.
“May the gods watch over your families and bring safety to these walls,” he said quietly as a small streak of golden wind, slipping through his fingers, covered the woman. One of the women who saw the scene wiped her eyes and whispered thanks before standing up.
As everyone inside this chapel was doing their own part, going on with their day, suddenly the heavy wooden doors at the entrance creaked open.
A Fiora hunter stepped inside, her boots leaving small tracks of mud on the stone floor. As soon as she entered, she scanned the room quickly and, noticing whom she was looking for, walked straight toward the cluster of elders near the side wall.
As she passed by many, a few people glanced up, but most stayed focused on their own quiet conversations or resting.
The hunter stopped in front of Verna, the tall eldest woman, who now had deep lines around her eyes and a staff resting across her lap. “Elder,” the hunter said, keeping her voice low. “Kaela, Maen, and Shilla, they’re back. They say Guild Master Rhuvia and Maya Niruha sent them to guard the walls instead of staying with the strike team.”
The elder looked up slowly. Her fingers tightened a little on her staff. “Did they say why they were sent back?”
The hunter shook her head. “No, Elder. Just that they were ordered back.”
The elder sat quiet for a moment, her gaze moving across the crowded room. She thought for a second to determine what could be the reason for those two to send these three back here?
She nodded once. “Send those three to me. I want to speak with them myself.”
“Yes, Elder.” The hunter turned and left quickly, the door creaking shut behind her again as she left the room just as quickly as she came.
John noticed the short exchange. He finished the blessing quickly and rose, brushing off his robes. He walked over, his apprentices trailing behind. “What news, Elder?” he asked, his tone polite but also a little curious. “Anything from the strike team?”
The elder leaned back slightly, her expression calm on the surface. Inside, though, a small worry gnawed at her.
She knew Maya wasn’t the type to make quick, thoughtless calls. And this new Guild Master girl from the capital, Rhuvia, seemed capable from what little she had seen. Sending three hunters back this soon felt off.
“Maybe nothing,” the elder said. She kept her voice even so the people nearby wouldn’t catch her concern. “But it seems a little strange to me. Our Maya Niruha does not act rashly. If she and the Guild Master sent those three back already, there must be a reason. I wonder if something went wrong out there.”
Hearing that, John frowned a little, his fingers brushing the edge of his robe. He glanced toward the door as if expecting more hunters to come through it. “The forest is too big. And who knows how far they must've gotten by now. If they ran into trouble before finding any trace of the dungeon……” He didn’t dare finish the words.
The elder nodded but didn’t add more herself. She watched one of her tribe members pass a cup of water to a tired-looking woman from the outer settlements. The woman took it with shaky hands and drank slowly. Even though these people had shelter here, surely they couldn't hold this many people here, packed like this.
The elder’s mind turned over the possibilities. ‘A monster attack? Disagreement in the group? Or something worse with the dungeon gate?’
As the elder was thinking, one of the apprentices shifted behind John, looking uncomfortable. The older apprentice kept his face still, but his eyes flicked toward the refugees. The room felt heavier now; the chit-chat of two hundred people blending with this uncertainty of how things were going on inside the forest was making things heavier than they really were.
Finally, after thinking for a while, the elder straightened her shoulders. “Let’s just hear what they have to say when they arrive. Until then, Priest John, please keep these people calm as best as you can. And you two.”
She called for two of the Fioran people from her tribe, who were just beside her now. “Keep asking people, see if they need anything else. Make sure everyone has water and a place to rest. The walls might hold the monsters, but fear and panic spread faster than any monsters, and it destroys more, too.”
John gave a small nod. “Of course. The gods provide shelter, and we will do our part. With Vivian out of the village, and Sara being sick now, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you were not here, Elder Verna. Surely it was a blessing that your tribe was nearby when this calamity fell upon us.”
The elder held her facial expression and said, “Surely you jest, Priest. I’m sure even if I was not here, you would’ve managed just fine, knowing how experienced you are, even among your own Tiered priesthood.”
Hearing this, with a smile, John just gave a bow of respect to the old woman and turned back toward the prayer area.
Though he turned around, his steps seemed a little slower, his mind clearly elsewhere. The younger apprentice followed, whispering something to the other one.
The elder stayed seated, her staff resting against her leg.
She looked out over the crowded chapel again. Families that had been split up yesterday sat close together now, sharing what little they had brought with them, refusing anything given by the village. Though they seemed to accept anything given by the Fioran people, they still looked reluctant to receive any charity from the villagers, except John, who was a priest.
Though the situation looked orderly on the outside, the elder knew better. Tension sat under every quiet word and tired glance.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, sending a silent prayer of her own. Not to the gods John spoke of, but to the strength that had always carried her people through hard times. Sensing they might need it soon.