A Perfect World - Chapter 7 (Patreon)

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A thin mist hung in the early-morning air.

Dawn hadn’t broken but the camp was filled with movement. Like an upended anthill, figures scurried around, readying for departure.

Winter’s snow had melted and ran down the mountain peaks. Like a heart pumping blood into veins, it filled a nearby stream with rushing water.

A boy made good use of the current.

He’d a brush in one hand and a cast-iron pot in the other. He was scrubbing it furiously.

Two others were ankle-deep alongside him.

A man stood nearby with his arms folded. Dark, wiry curls protruded from underneath his sleeves. His face was similarly overgrown - a carpet of hair started at his temples and disappeared under his shirt collar. Even his eyebrows were ferocious.

Black pupils traced the boy’s form. After a time, he withdrew his gaze.

He turned and left. Other things demanded his attention.

When he left, two kneeling figures exchanged glances. Both were women, appearing in their twenties or thirties. One was thin with a pinched face while the other had a more vibrant appearance.

They looked at the boy.

He wore primitive clothing and a shaggy mane of dirty-blonde hair hung to his shoulders. His features were youthful and dusted with brown freckles.

“Did you arrive last night?”

One of the women directed a question toward him.

Sixth’s hands stilled.

“I did.”

Curiosity shone in the woman’s eyes.

“Wasn’t there a girl with you?”

Sixth nodded over his shoulder.

“It was the two of us.”

This time, it was the other woman who addressed him. She was excited.

“Who is she…?”

Sixth turned his face away to hide his irritation.

It seems his premonition had been correct.

‘What do I look like, her manager?’

He almost gave an annoyed remark when he heard a familiar voice drifting from the convoy.

He turned to the two women.

“Ask her yourselves.”

Before they could protest his refusal, two sets of footsteps drew their attention.

A pair of girls emerged from the trees, walking on the trail that led to the stream

It was Griffin and Missy.

“Please be careful, lady Madeline. The ground is muddy.”

The maid took Griffin’s wrist gently and led her to a dry area.

Seeing this, Sixth raised an eyebrow.

‘She already has these people whipped. I admit, it is impressive…’

He straightened his stiff back and looked at Griffin.

“To lay eyes on lady Madeline once more… ah, I have not lived in vain.”

He wanted to do a mock bow, but a twinge in his spine dissuaded him. Instead, he laid one hand on his heart and lowered his head.

Griffin watched him with surprise.

At her side, Missy scrutinized him through narrowed eyes.

This was the first time she’d met this person. Lady Madeline spoke well of him, but she knew his true nature – he was a man, after all.

It took a moment for Griffin’s to regain her composure.

The corner of her mouth turned upwards mischievously.

“You did well in escorting me. The least I could do is offer my thanks.”

Her voice was generous as she clasped her hands below her chest. A faint glow surrounded her.

Sixth’s fellow scrubbers watched the exchange with wide eyes. They’d been frozen since the moment they laid eyes on Griffin. They had never someone so… different.

Sixth’s eyelids fluttered closed in bliss.

“Lady, I am unworthy!”

His fingers clutched at his chest, scrunching up his dirty hide.

“If there’s anything this slave can do for you, don’t hesitate!”

He held a black pot in one hand and a long brush stuck out of it. His leggings were rolled up, revealing his spindly calves. His face was dirty and the stench of alcohol wafted from him.

The spectators’ expressions turned strange.

Griffin was caught flat-footed. She didn’t expect he’d ham it up to this extent.

“…it’s all right.”

Not knowing what else to say, she decided to return to camp. She’d wanted to check if Sixth was all-right. Now that she’d accomplished her goal, she didn’t have a reason to remain.

Missy, who watched her like a hawk, was quick to suggest.

“Let’s have breakfast, my Lady. You’ll need strength for the journey.”

After thinking about it, Griffin agreed.

“Thank you, Missy.”

She gave Sixth a serene smile before departing.

Sixth dropped his sycophantic look as soon as they were gone.

He glanced at the cast iron pot in his hand with resentment. Despite his best efforts, a layer of grease remained.

He sighed.

He remembered Griffin’s appearance. He hadn’t suspected a bath and a clean dress would make such a big difference.

‘If she wants to stay, then I guess it’s fine.’

He’d have to get used to performing menial labor.

Sixth yawned widely. He didn’t usually wake up this early.

His gaze turned toward the two remaining women. They’d been tittering happily for the past few minutes and it drove him crazy.

He sloshed out the water and gravel in his pot.

‘This should be good enough, right?’

Walking out of the stream, he picked up the cleaned cutlery and put them in the pot.

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Griffin sat on a wool blanket with her legs folded.

She chewed a mouthful of scrambled eggs delightedly. Spring onion had been added, giving the dish a wonderful aroma.

She was surprised that these people had fresh eggs. She had no clue how they’d stored them.

“Is it good?”

Missy watched Griffin eat with satisfaction. She’d made it herself. She’d not have the lady eat that black bear’s cooking, God forbid!

Griffin nodded enthusiastically.

“It is! You are a fantastic cook.”

Missy’s was on cloud nine.

“Thank you, milady.”

Today was a dream. Lady Madeline was everything she’d hoped for. To have such impeccable breeding – Missy could only imagine how prestigious her background must be!

Movement flashed at the edge of her vision. It drew Missy’s attention.

“Fuck’s sake, can’t even clean a pot right!”

A wooden utensil flew into the air and smacked against a boy’s forehead.

The enormous cook stomped over to the other arrival. Dark clouds brewed on his face.

Missy watched as Freldt gave him the scolding of his life. She wouldn’t complain if the two animals tore each other to bits, though she anticipated a more one-sided confrontation.

Sixth managed to dodge an incoming palm, but a black pot appeared and slammed into his chest. He dropped to the ground, wheezing.

“Do it right or go hungry – your choice!”

The chef’s foot levitated in the air as he considered punctuating his statement. A moment later, he lowered his boot.

“And do it ‘fore we leave!”

His departure was as sudden as his arrival.

Griffin sat with eyes narrowed. She retraced their exchange in her mind.

Sixth anticipated the pot, but the man adjusted the trajectory of his toss at the last moment. Sixth was caught off guard.

Her eyes followed him as he stood up with difficulty. He rubbed his chest, pain evident on his face.

A sense of admiration rose in her heart.

‘Could I have made that throw…?’

She shook her head inwardly. The pot was too heavy for her manipulate it with such skill.

“Missy.”

The maid snapped out of her thoughts. She slipped on a mask of concern, not wanting to give herself away.

“I can’t believe that man. The nerve of him, to mistreat lady Madeline’s benefactor! I’ll report this to madam Ingrid immediately!”

She leaped to her feat in false outrage.

Griffin made a placating gesture.

“No, tell me – who is he?”

Missy was momentarily confused.

“Huh? Oh, Freldt. He’s the cook, milady.”

Griffin pinched her lip in thought.

“He’s just a cook?”

Missy tilted her head.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what milady means…?”

Griffin sighed and waved her hand.

“It’s fine.”

Missy blinked owlishly.

“…would you like me to report to the madam?”

Griffin had returned to her breakfast, spooning egg into her mouth with relish. Her eating halted.

“Hm? No, it’s all right.”

Missy was stunned but then she grinned broadly.

‘That’s right, milady – you went out of your way to thank him this morning. That’s more than enough!’

“Ah, h-hello…”

A shy stutter attracted Missy’s attention. She turned to the intruded with annoyance.

A blonde teenager stood there, looking embarrassed. He was short, with his hair in a bowl cut.

His smiled awkwardly at Griffin, his hands clutched at his sides.

“I’m Judeau. S-sorry for not greeting you sooner…”

He made eye contact with her before looking down at his feet. A red haze spread from hollow of his neck to the tips of his ears.

Missy scrunched her eyebrows together.

‘Why are you sorry? Just stop being a bother.’

Griffin’s polite smile froze when she heard his name. Her thoughts turned to last night.

‘Wait… didn’t Sixth mention him?’

She scrutinized Judy from underneath her silver eyebrows.

“My name is Madeline. It’s nice to meet you, Judeau.”

Judy swallowed thickly.

“Everyone calls me Judy, so f-feel free…”

He chuckled stupidly while pulling at the ends of his shirt. He’d surreptitiously washed it last night in preparation for this meeting.

Griffin nodded kindly.

“Okay.”

Her knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss it as luck. The group consisted of two to three dozen troupers – guessing a single name wasn’t impossible.

Her eyes flitted from Judy’s face to Missy’s. The two were arguing about something.

‘Is Sixth trying to impress me?’

His behavior during their journey didn’t support her idea. However, him knowing the future seemed too absurd.

Unable to address her doubts, she shelved the issue. She’d ask him when he returned

“…you her mother?”

Judy was shouting at Missy.

He had stuck his face next to hers. Their noses were almost touching.

Griffin’s eyes twinkled.

“Are you two going to kiss?”

Missy recoiled like she’d been slapped.

“Me, with him…?! Milady, you think too little of me.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly and one hand fanned at her face.

A carriage door opened across from the three youths and a familiar voice drifted from inside.

“Nats, I cannae e’en ‘ear meself thinkin’!”

Ingrid stepped out, followed by Lael. A vein throbbed near her forehead.

Hear arms stretched towards Judy and Missy, fingers ready to pinch.

The two retreated in a hurry.

Judy excused himself.

“I j-just remembered, Adger needs my help. It was nice meeting you, lady Madeline!”

He couldn’t have fled faster if he had two extra legs.

Ingrid huffed and turned to Missy. The maid was hiding behind Griffin’s skirts like a little girl.

“An ye, go tell Barreh ta get movin’.”

The caravans had been drawn and the oxen were harnessed. They were ready to depart.

Missy nodded her head like a chicken pecking at rice.

“I’ll rejoin you soon, milady.”

She scurried toward the head of the convoy.

It wasn’t long before wheels started turning. They couldn’t miss their scheduled performance.

Griffin sat on top of Ingrid’s carriage, swinging her legs idly. She’d been invited inside, but she’d refused.

She gazed at the dirt road behind with slight worry.

Sixth hadn’t returned yet. She considered telling Ingrid, but she didn’t want to make a fuss. Besides, she could walk faster than their current speed. It wouldn’t be hard for him to catch up.

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Sixth glared balefully at the cast iron pot. He could see that bear bastard’s disgusting face outlined in its grains.

He imagined himself shoving the stiff bristles into Freldt’s eyelids and scrubbing until his skin peeled off.

‘Screw that asshole!’

He’d thrown a handful of grit into the pot to act as sandpaper. It wasn’t working, the thing was as greasy as ever.

Sixth emptied the pot’s contents furiously.

“Forget it, I’m done. If he has a problem with this, he can go f-…”

He halted his tirade abruptly. His last sentence disappeared into the forest.

Silence.

‘…why is it so quiet?’

He whirled around, trying to glimpse the trail that led to the stream.

'Did they leave?'

He couldn't believe it.

He dropped the pot. He wanted to make sure.

However, something obstructed his journey. In between the trail and the stream, a solitary pair of footprints were outlined in the soil. 

Sixth stared intently at them. A premonition emerged within his heart.

Suddenly, out of thin air, a third footprint appeared, one yard ahead of the other two.

A fourth joined it.

Then a fifth.

They were advancing toward him.

Sixth eyes widened dramatically. He’d almost forgotten...

An air current came out of nowhere, seizing his sweat-soaked frame. Sixth roughly adjusted his furs. He remembered the old man’s dying face.

‘Gramps…!”

His grip on his clothes tightened until his knuckles turned white. Above him, a watery light filtered through the forest canopy.

His breathing accelerated.

‘Sixth chewed on his lip. He decisively turned and walked downhill, following the water's flow.

A second pair of footsteps trailed after his own. Shortly after he'd left, both sets were wiped away, as if by an invisible hand.

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Too much time had passed.

‘One hour…? Two…?’

It shouldn’t take this long for Sixth to rejoin them. Something had happened.

She couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“Ms. Ingrid.”

The troupe’s boss reclined lazily in the driver’s seat. The carriage’s reigns hung loosely from her fingers.

“Ye’ll see ta city ‘fore sunset, Birdie.”

She didn’t look away from the cart ahead.

Griffin shook her head emphatically.

“It’s not that. Sixth hasn’t come back yet!”

Ingrid’s jaws stilled. She’d been chewing on a stem of grass.

“Yer frien’?”

She turned to Griffin.

Griffin wasted no time in retelling this morning’s events.

Ingrid’s countenance became gloomier the more she listened. She always did a roll call before setting off, but she hadn’t considered the new addition.

“I’m going to look for him! You don’t have to wait for me.”

Having made up her mind, Griffin deftly jumped from the roof.

The moment her feet hit the ground, she started running. Her silver hair fluttered wildly behind her.

It took a moment for Ingrid to regain her senses.

“Some’n ‘ll go wi’ ye!”

When her golden goose didn’t slow down, Ingrid grit her teeth.

She shouted toward the head of the convoy.

“Freldt, ye oaf! Come ‘ere now!”

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Griffin’s gaze traced the winding dirt road ahead, hoping to see the sight of their old camp.

It took around fifteen minutes for her to find it. The area had been flattened and the smell of smoke still hung faintly in the air.

‘It’s here!’

Her heart pounded in her chest as she hurriedly made her way to the stream. She’d ran as fast as she could.

“Sixth! Sixth!”

She shouted his name.

She received no reply. Her worry exploded into full-blown panic.

Griffin tore through the overgrown trail she’d walked just a few hours ago. Branches clawed at her dress and got tangled in her hair.

A black sensation unfurled in her chest when she found the stream. Sixth was nowhere in sight.

Endless thoughts flooded her mind.

‘Did he stumble and injure himself? Maybe a wild animal attacked him…!’

She shouted his name again. It was equally fruitless.

Her imagination went into overdrive, conjuring one horrible situation after the other.

Griffin’s frantic search halted when she spotted a familiar black pot. It laid upturned in the shallow river. She sloshed through the ankle-deep water to pick it up.

The heavy object sipped from her grip twice before she managed to lug it out of the stream.

Her silver eyes, round as dinnerplates, peered at its black shape. It yielded no answers.

She dropped it. Her expression was forlorn.

“…-adeline! Lady Madeline!”

The wind carried a shout in her direction.

She looked over her shoulder.

“I’m h-here!”

Her voice trembled with emotion.

It didn’t take long for two large figures to appear behind her. They were breathing hard.

Wilk’s gaze was strange. This young lady was a damn good runner.

“You didn’t f-…?”

A burly shape shoved him aside mid-sentence.

Kneeling down, Freldt easily lifted the cast iron container in one hand. He palmed it idly while checking the surroundings.

“Kid better not be pulling a prank.”

His voice was gruff.

The statement made Griffin bristle, but she didn’t argue. She was most at fault for not speaking up earlier.

“He’s not like that.”

She refuted the cook’s claim tensely.

Wilk scrutinized the soil around the stream in his search for clues. He was unsuccessful.

“What could’ve happened to him?”

Freldt plucked his beard roughly. His dark eyes swept the stream from end to end.

“Standing around won’t do any good. You and the girl follow the brook north – I’ll do south. Shout if you found something.”

He strode downhill. His long gait covered distance easily and his figure soon grew small.

Griffin looked at Wilk anxiously.

“What if Sixth went into the woods?”

The mercenary sighed.

He glanced at the dense forest surrounding them. He could hardly see ten yards into it.

“If he did…”

His speech halted.

“Let’s get searching. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll find him.”

Griffin nodded numbly. There was no other recourse.

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