After a tense moment, Reynald decided to let go of his sword. Cael let out a sigh of relief — at least they were spared the unnecessary trouble.
Then, the soldiers started closing in, but before they could detain them, Cael spoke:
"Hold on, sir, forgive us for being here, but... this is all just a big misunderstanding. We meant no harm." Cael said.
This place was foreign to him, and he didn't think he could navigate it just yet. At least not without knowing the rules of this era.
"Misunderstanding?"
The leader asked, raising an eyebrow at Cael's insistence. He looked at the other soldiers behind him — the soldiers looked at each other, equally confused.
"I see... You're not from here, are you? Your dress... It's not what the common folks would be able to afford. Either you stole it, or you're a noble."
He thought to himself for a moment before he spoke.
"I will lead you to the nearest town, on condition that you answer my questions willingly."
Cael looked at Reynald — his expression calm and collected, as if they hadn't just avoided a certain death.
Cael turned his gaze back to the soldier.
"We will oblige."
He nodded at Cael's response and started to lead the group — his men followed behind.
Just as he was lost in thought, he saw Reynald already following behind them — how was this man so easily trusting anyone?
Cael shook his head in disbelief, but he had to focus; the priority now was to manage the next step in this voyage.
Cael caught up to them until he was walking side by side with Reynald. As they walked, Cael noticed the dire situation of the surrounding area.
Houses were burned down, black smoke was thick in the air, and soldiers' corpses were decaying and rotting amidst the hellfire.
Cael stopped when he saw a wounded soldier leaning against a boulder. Perhaps he was still alive? He approached the wounded soldier, taking his cold hand to check his pulse.
However, it was a shame — this man had long departed.
Cael 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 gazed down at me.
"I've been meaning to ask, where are you two from? You don't dress like the locals."
Cael looked up at the soldier.
"I came from Paris, this man, however..."
Reynald didn't sound like a French name and he never speaks about his origin at all.
"England. Land of the Queen." Said Reynald.
The soldiers in front of them suddenly narrowed their eyes, as if expecting hostility. Then each one of them unsheathed their swords and pointed them toward Reynald.
"An Englishman? How dare you come to France! Speak the truth, now!"
Cael raised his 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.
"Now, now. Gentlemen, let us not make a scene here. There is no need for anyone to die here."
Cael's eyes widened in shock at Reynald's words. Is he trying to get them killed? The Hundred Years' War — Everyone would suspect anyone for merely existing.
"Don't change the subject, English bastard. Are you a spy? An assassin? Speak, or we'll have you rot in the dungeon with your people."
Reynald raised his hands in a mock surrender, but a grin was playing on his lips.
"Sir, I'm simply a traveler. Traveling the world with my... companion here."
He turned to Cael. Companion? Cael barely knew him. But there was no other way out of this except deception.
"Yes.. sir. We are both travelers. We are on our way to Hispania to seek knowledge."
Cael attempted to cover up the lie Reynald had 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.
"But sir! His people killed our brothers-in-arms! He should pay for their sin!"
The leader shoots a glare at them, silently commanding them to stand down.
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 them, examining their faces with a skeptical look.
"Thirty days, 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... He knew that name — lord of Brittany.
World's first serial killer.
— Penning a new chapter…