Punish It in My Place (2)
The three-way intersection in front of the inn was jammed solid with crowds and laden wagons. But Marim was making a huge fuss, and I couldn't figure out why—crowds like this happened now and then.
"What do you want me to do about it? It happens sometimes, right?"
"No, look over there!"
Marim pointed toward the northern road. I turned my head and froze in shock. An enormous line of people stretched along the road as far as the eye could see. The area in front of the inn had been bustling before, but this was the first time the entire road had been completely blocked. Even when the northern road had been sealed off due to a monster attack, it hadn't been this bad.
The wagons—pulled by horses or people—were piled high with all sorts of household goods. Women clutching babies and frail elderly folks were wedged in among the baggage like cargo. Gaunt, filthy men eyed each other warily, and fights broke out here and there.
"Get lost if you're just snooping! We got nothing to give!"
"What the fuck, you bastard?! Who said I was snooping? It's 'cause you're blocking the damn road!"
They all had soot smeared across their faces, their clothes marked with scorch stains everywhere. The air reeked of old smoke. As I watched men grappling, others trying to pull them apart, crying kids, and a horse shitting right on the ground, I wondered what the hell was going on.
"Where did all these people come from?"
"Beats me... Guess I gotta ask."
I approached a woman who was sweating buckets, desperately soothing a wailing baby.
"Excuse me. Sorry to bother you, but where are you all coming from? You don't look like locals from the city."
But she took one look at me, hugged her baby tight, and turned her back. Stung by the blatant rejection, I scanned for someone else. An old man sitting in a wagon, leaning against his belongings, answered instead.
"We're folks coming down from Myanfeld."
"Myanfeld? All these people?"
"Not just Myanfeld—everyone from the surrounding area. We're heading south to the kingdom."
I glanced back at the endless procession stretching north along the road. All these people had come from the northeast Myanfeld region?
"Was there a war or something? Nah, there's no reason for one there. What happened?"
But the old man clamped his mouth shut, clearly done talking. Frustrated, I grabbed someone else.
"What happened in Myanfeld?"
"Lightning struck from the sky out of nowhere...! It swallowed houses whole in an instant—our home burned down too! We've got nowhere left to go!"
A scrawny man with jittery eyes rambled like he was losing it. I let him go and kept moving up the line.
"Is... is there a temple around here...?"
Someone grabbed my arm. I turned to see a woman with her face caked in ash standing by a roofless wagon. Flies swarmed around it. What the...? Spoiled food?
As I got closer, a foul stench hit me, and I recoiled instinctively. Marim groaned and pinched her nose.
"Ugh... what is that...?!"
Several people lay in the wagon. They were all horribly burned, skin charred black. Flesh peeled away to expose muscle, melted faces impossible to identify. Pus oozed from the burns, reeking, with flies lapping it up eagerly. Some looked dead already.
"Urk...!"
Marim bolted to the roadside, bent over dry-heaving. I swallowed bile and asked the woman,
"What... what the hell happened...?"
"Please... if there's a saintess, call her... They're all dying..."
She muttered weakly, no tears left—her soot-streaked face streaked with dried tracks.
"Boss... shouldn't we contact City Hall and the guard? This ain't normal."
"Yeah. You head to the guard. I'll go to City Hall."
But no need. Captain Lambert and guards on horseback were already charging over from the distance.
"Captain!"
"Bertrand. Step back. The guard's taking control now."
Lambert issued orders to his men without a hint of panic. A few stayed with him; the rest galloped north. Terrified, exhausted eyes followed them. Some reached out pleadingly.
"Any officials or representatives here? Step forward. I'm Rosens Guard Captain Lambert. I've been ordered to assist the Myanfeld refugees."
He called out to the line while walking his horse forward. A man with a massive burn on his arm raised his hand and stepped out.
"That's me. I'm the acting administrator of Myanfeld, Grade 8 Jeffrey."
"Jeffrey. We'll provide temporary shelters. Lead your line and follow. Any immobile patients, let us know—we'll help."
"Some have severe burns. Many are too weak to walk anymore."
Jeffrey glanced at the endless line north.
"Understood. Those who can walk, follow. We'll handle the stragglers."
"Thank you..."
Jeffrey relayed the message back. Faces brightened; hope rippled through. People who'd collapsed rose, pushing and pulling wagons slowly forward. Guards spaced out to guide them.
I approached Lambert as he directed traffic.
"Captain. What's going on? You knew already?"
"Courier from Bue HQ. Massive refugees from Myanfeld—support them."
"What happened there?"
"Military secret. Can't say."
Military secret...? I racked my brain, but nothing in Myanfeld screamed "top secret." Hmm... So Hardo was right—Aterugar really came back? That red lizard's begging for a beating? I tried asking around, but guards blocked me.
"Boss. Let's head back. Nothing we can do here."
Marim said, wiping her mouth as she approached. We returned to the inn. Employees gathered out front, peering.
"Boss, who are they?"
Della asked, watching the Myanfeld refugees trail the guards. I relayed what Lambert said.
"Pelle, come here a sec."
I took Pelle to the backyard. She leaned against a woodpile, staring blankly.
"Looks like a dragon showed up in Myanfeld."
She waited silently for more.
"Know a red dragon named Aterugar? Vanished near Myanfeld about ten years back."
"Yeah. Fled to the distant sea for unknown reasons."
"Right. I chased her off."
"Why?"
"Wangseong asked me to stop her torching Myanfeld and the area. Gave her a thrashing. Anyway—not the point. Point is, she's back."
Pelle got why I'd pulled her aside.
"Dragons rarely move nests. Few spots meet all conditions, can't overlap territories. They live in one till death."
"So Aterugar couldn't leave her nest and came back?"
"Probably. Unless she missed someone?"
I chuckled dryly at the deadpan joke. She continued,
"But not just the nest. Dragons' revenge? Even a hundred years is short."
The saying meant: cross one, payback's inevitable, someday.
"Here for revenge on me?"
"Reds are obsessive even among dragons. Possible."
"Hmm... yeah..."
Separate from the Myanfeld refugees, the inn buzzed with customers. Today's hall chatter: wild guesses about them. Nothing solid. One table speculated Aterugar's return.
Then Marim, back from delivery, rushed up and whispered in my ear.
"Boss! Guards are heading this way...!"