Arc 3: Chapter 2: Portents
We saw the smoke before we came within sight of the village. I thought at first we just saw the vapors of chimneys, the signs of a community warming itself in the depths of winter.
The truth became clearer the closer we got. Billensbrooke burned.
“Bandits?” Emma asked. She’d been quiet for a long time, watching the black coils drifting lazily over the hills. “Or…”
She didn’t need to say it. If not a band of thieves, there weren’t many other options. Isolated conflicts periodically broke out between feudal lords, or even the armies of High Houses, and had since there’d been any humans in Urn. The Accord had been formed to put a stop to that sort of thing, with mixed success at best. Other than that…
We were far from any Recusant holdouts. Even still, I loosened the ropes binding my axe’s cover. “Keep close,” I told my apprentice. “We’ll see what we can, then decide.”
We crested the last of the forested hills embracing the lowlands, and got our first good look at the wreckage below. Billensbrooke had been a peaceful, idyllic community, one I’d seen in passing on a few occasions. Isolated from any major tradeways or realm roads, it didn’t have any conveniences like an inn or well-stocked shops. Mostly farms, orchards, home grown wines.
It had been a quiet place, a good place. Now…
Now I only saw ruin. No building, from the tallest house to the humblest cottage, had been spared the flame. They’d burned the orchards too, and the vineyards. Some of the flames had spread to the scattered woods nearby, leaving vast stretches of smoking waste.
“Rotting Moons,” Emma swore. “What happened here, a war?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
I turned to face her and lifted a finger. “Stay here.”