Interlude: Laurent of the Desolated Village

 

 

 

Interlude: Laurent of the Desolated Village

 

MY younger sister isn’t in good health. She spends most of her time bedridden and wheezing in pain.

“Emilie. Look, I’ve brought food. Can you eat?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says in a fragile voice and sits up in bed. “Thank you, Brother.”

My sister is adorable when her cheeks dimple like that, but it’s too painful for me to look at her sunken face now.

Emilie accepts the wooden bowl and slowly sips the soup made of nothing more than a little grain simmered in water. I would love most of all to provide my sickly sister with something better to eat, but this is the best I can do for her.

I bite down on my lower lip, mortified.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Laurent?” Emilie asks in a rasping voice.

I force my cracked lips into a smile. “I’m good.”

“But…then you’ll stay hungry. I’m full now. Eat the rest so I don’t waste it,” she suggests, concern lacing her feeble voice. She holds the bowl of soup up to me.

Emilie must still be starving… She’s grown up to be a sweet and caring girl.

Our mother died of an illness when I was eight and Emilie was three. I took care of my sister on behalf of my father, who spent more time on ranches for work than at home.

Emilie is my adorable little sister. She’s the only family I have left now that our father has fallen to the level of a common bandit and abandoned us to our fate. I want to keep her safe. But no matter how much I wish to do that, her body is weakening by the day. And her coughing fits are getting much worse.

Some sort of freak cold seems to be going around the village because the other children are suffering from the same symptoms as my sister.

How can I protect my younger sister and the villagers who remained when I can’t even obtain farming tools to plow the fields? Is the only answer to steal from innocent people as Father and the other men did?

“I ate my share earlier. This is all for you,” I persuade weakly, forcing the corners of my lips up in a smile.

Truth is, I haven’t eaten a thing. I’m starving. But this is about the only thing I can do for my sister.

Emilie seems to have fallen for my story. “Oh, okay,” she says, bringing the bowl of watery soup to her lips.

That’s how it should be. Emilie needs to gain strength now more than ever. I can still endure.

“Okay, I’m going back to the field. Call me if you need anything,” I tell her.

“Mm-hmm.” She nods.

I stand, leave the run-down shack, and look around outside. The houses in this village are in shambles after the bandit attack. Gaping holes fill the roofs, cracks run through the walls, and repairs aren’t even a possibility at this point. The land in front of me is more of a dust bowl than anything resembling a field.

Even so, I must prevail.

I grab hold of the branch leaning against the house. I picked it up as a substitute tool.

All metal farming tools were taken by the government to be used in the war efforts. The Kingdom of Gaea, where we live, is apparently at war with the neighboring Demon Lord kingdom.

I thought our farming tools would be returned to us after the war, but so far there’s no sign of that happening, and the wooden tools they gave us in return have rotted away.

What I have now is just a stick. It’s all I have to till the fields and produce something delicious for Emilie to eat… My mind is willing, but my body feels like lead.

A black fog hangs over the surrounding area as I’m heading into the field. It’s always like this. I don’t know what this black fog enshrouding the village is, but the other villagers can’t see it.

Lately, I feel like the black fog is growing thicker by the day. At this rate, the village is going to be swallowed by this darkness.

No, maybe it has already been swallowed whole.

The fields turned wild and barren, the adults became bandits, and disease has spread like wildfire. The black haze is too thick; everything before my eyes looks darker than night even though it’s daytime…

“…I want to see…the light,” I whisper, thrusting the stick into the ravaged field to turn over the hard dirt.

Just a little glimmer is fine. I just want a light to shine through this bleak darkness.