LinieBaru: ObsessionIF: 08 (Patreon)

Fern and Frieren reached the village after leaving the last stretches of the Decle Region behind them. The place sat in a quiet fold of the Alt Woods and carried no name that Frieren could recall from any map or old record. It was a modest collection of wooden houses and low stone walls that spread along both sides of a single main path. Smoke rose from several chimneys in thin gray lines and the afternoon air held the mixed scents of baking bread and cut grass. As the two of them walked deeper into the settlement they noticed that the village felt rather lively for its size. Children ran between the houses with wooden toys in their hands. Women carried baskets of vegetables from small garden plots. Men stood near open workshops and talked while they sharpened tools or mended leather. The ordinary busyness of daily life moved around the travelers without pause.

Frieren’s attention settled on a group of villagers gathered beside the public well at the center of the path. Three women and two older men stood close together and spoke in low voices that carried the rhythm of shared gossip. She adjusted the strap of her pack and turned toward them. Fern followed a half step behind with her staff held loosely in one hand. The villagers looked up as the pair approached and offered polite greetings.

One of the women wiped her hands on her apron and spoke first.

“Good day to you both. Are you travelers passing through?”

Frieren answered in her usual calm tone.

“Yes. We are coming from the south and looking for someone.”

The oldest man in the group leaned on the stone rim of the well and studied their faces with mild curiosity.

“Looking for someone out here in the Alt Woods? That is not a common reason for travel. Who might it be?”

Fern reached into a side pouch and drew out a folded piece of paper. She had spent part of the previous evening trying to capture Stark’s features from memory. The sketch was rather bad. The lines of the jaw sat too wide and the eyes lacked the steady focus she remembered yet the overall shape of the face and the rough outline of the red hair remained clear enough to serve their purpose. She unfolded the paper and held it out so the group could see.

The villagers leaned closer and squinted at the rough drawing. Silence held for several seconds while they compared the image to faces they knew. Then one of the women covered her mouth with one hand and whispered to the person beside her.

“It looks like Mr. Stark.”

Fern’s composure broke for a single sharp moment. She stepped forward and almost yanked the paper back from the woman’s view in her sudden urgency.

“Do you know him? Where is he now?”

The group exchanged startled glances at the force in her voice. The oldest man raised both hands in a calming gesture and answered carefully.

“We know him well enough. He stayed here in the village for about a week. He left a few days ago.”

Fern’s grip on her staff tightened. “Where did he go?”

The woman who had recognized the sketch shook her head. “I am not sure of the exact direction. His fiancée said they were going somewhere to start over.”

Both Frieren and Fern froze in place. The word landed between them like a stone dropped into still water. Fern’s eyes widened and her mouth opened without sound. Frieren recovered first and spoke in a level voice that hid the quiet surprise beneath.

“What fiancée? Can you tell us more about this person?”

The woman glanced at her companions for confirmation and then continued.

“They stayed at the church during their time here. The father of the church might be able to tell you enough about them. He saw them every day.”

Frieren inclined her head in thanks.

“We appreciate the information.”

Fern managed a short nod of her own though her thoughts clearly raced far ahead of the polite exchange. The two of them turned away from the well and began walking toward the small church that stood at the northern edge of the village. The building rose a little higher than the surrounding houses and its wooden doors stood open to the afternoon light. Fern walked with stiff shoulders and spoke under her breath once they were out of easy hearing range.

“I cannot believe that Stark-sama found the love of his life and already became engaged while we searched for him.”

Frieren placed a steady hand on the younger mage’s shoulder and kept her voice quiet and practical.

“We should not reach any conclusion before we gather enough concrete evidence. People in villages often misunderstand what they see. We will listen to the father and then decide what the facts actually mean.”

Fern drew a slow breath and forced her posture back into its usual careful line. They climbed the three low steps that led to the church entrance and stepped inside. The interior felt particularly empty. Rows of simple wooden benches faced a plain altar at the far end. Dust motes drifted in the shafts of light that fell through the high windows. No one moved among the benches or near the altar. The only sound was the soft creak of the floorboards under their boots.

They walked deeper into the hall and soon noticed a figure stretched out on one of the side benches. A man lay on his back with one arm thrown across his eyes and his legs crossed at the ankles. The faint sharp smell of smoke clung to his clothes and hair. Fern approached first and spoke in a polite tone that still carried a trace of urgency.

“Excuse me. Are you awake?”

The man did not stir. Frieren stepped closer and gave his shoulder a firm poke with two fingers.

“Are you alive?”

The man jolted upright so fast that he nearly slid off the bench. He blinked hard against the light and rubbed his face with both hands.

“I am not dead. Just tired. What do you want?”

Fern dipped her head in a quick apology.

“I am sorry for waking you. We did not mean to startle anyone.”

The man waved the apology aside and swung his legs down to the floor.

“It is fine. I should not have been sleeping in the open hall anyway. What brings two travelers into the church at this hour?”

Frieren studied his face for a moment before she spoke.

“Are you the father of this church?”

The man gave a short tired laugh and shook his head.

“My brother is the father. I am also a priest though I spend more time outside the church than inside it. What do you need him for?”

Fern answered with careful precision.

“We were told that he allowed two people to stay in the church for a time. Those two left last week. We hoped to ask him about them.”

The man’s expression shifted into quiet understanding.

“Ah. I see. Well I was out of the village during that period so I never met them myself. My brother is sleeping in the back room right now. Let me go and see if he is ready to wake.”

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Sein knocked on the closed door of the small back room where his brother usually slept. The sound of his knuckles against the wood echoed once through the quiet hallway and then faded into silence. No answer came from the other side. He waited a few more seconds and knocked a second time with greater force. Still nothing moved inside. Sein pushed the door open with one shoulder and stepped across the threshold.

The room was dim. Heavy curtains blocked most of the afternoon light and left only thin lines of brightness along the floor. His brother lay stretched on the narrow bed under a thick blanket that rose and fell in an uneven rhythm. The breathing sounded wrong. It came too fast and too shallow and carried a faint rattle that had never belonged to a healthy man. Sein crossed the short distance to the bedside and pulled the blanket aside. The cloth came away damp and warm. His brother’s skin shone with fever sweat and the simple underclothes clung to his body in dark patches. The heat that rose from the bed felt unnatural for so short a span of hours.

Sein stood for a moment and stared down at the flushed face. What on earth could have produced such a sudden fever? He had seen his brother only that morning and the man had looked tired but nothing like this. A long sigh left Sein’s chest. He reached down and shook the shoulder with careful firmness.

“Brother. Wake up.”

The priest’s eyes opened slowly. They looked glassy and unfocused at first and then settled on Sein’s face with recognition. His voice came out thin and rough.

“I am not feeling very well. You should look after the church for now.”

Sein shook his head and spoke in a practical tone that left little room for argument.

“You need to change out of those wet clothes first. If you stay like this the fever will only grow worse.”

The priest sighed again and pushed himself upright with visible effort. His arms trembled under his own weight as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and began to loosen the outer robes that still hung around his shoulders. Sein turned to the small table near the wall and poured fresh water from a clay jug into a basin. The sound of the liquid filled the quiet room while his brother struggled with the heavy fabric.

Sein kept his eyes on the pouring water and asked the question that had been sitting in his mind since he first pulled the blanket away.

“What did you do to get so sick so quickly? This morning I saw you looking a bit sleep deprived but this is far too much change in such a short time.”

The priest sighed for a third time and answered without looking up.

“A lot has happened in the past days.”

Sein set the basin down and turned fully toward the bed.

“Oh? Is it because of the travelers you let stay here?”

The priest’s already pale face lost whatever color remained. His hands froze on the ties of his robe and his shoulders drew inward as if a cold wind had entered the room. Sein noticed the reaction at once and continued in a lighter voice that still carried clear curiosity.

“What did they do in my room? I found the wall broken when I returned and the bed was a bit creaky as well. Did you let some newly married couple stay inside the church? That is so against the rules. Not that I care much about the rules myself but you always do.”

The priest’s mouth opened and closed without sound. His knees buckled without warning and he started to collapse forward. Sein moved fast and caught him under both arms before he could hit the floor. The heat of the fever soaked through the damp clothes and into Sein’s hands. He held his brother upright and spoke with sharper concern.

“What happened? Why are you like this? This is not only because of a cold is it brother? Tell me what happened.”

Tears gathered in the priest’s eyes and spilled down his flushed cheeks. His voice broke into uneven sobs as he forced the words out.

“I cannot tell anyone anything. Otherwise she will kill me.”

Sein kept his grip steady and asked the next question in a lower tone.

“Who?”

The priest swallowed hard and answered in a whisper that barely carried across the short space between them.

“The demon.”

Sein froze in place. The word hung in the warm air of the sickroom and changed the entire shape of the conversation. He stared at his brother’s face and repeated the word with careful precision.

“Demon? You mean the people who stayed here were demons?”

The priest shook his head once and then corrected himself in a voice thick with fear.

“One of them. She held me hostage inside these walls and threatened to kill me if I did not do exactly what she ordered.”

Sein’s mind turned the information over with growing shock. He kept one arm around his brother’s shoulders and asked the question that rose first from the confusion.

“Why would a demon come to a church and ask for help from a priest?”

The priest’s answer came in broken pieces between shallow breaths.

“She wanted me to treat a young man who was injured. She claimed she was madly in love with him. But she is a monster. An absolute monster.”

Sein absorbed every word in absolute silence. The broken wall in the side room the creaky bed the sudden fever and the terror in his brother’s eyes all settled into a single grim picture. Before he could ask another question the outer doors of the church creaked open on their hinges. Footsteps crossed the main hall and then approached the back room. Two figures appeared in the open doorway. One carried long purple hair and held a staff with quiet readiness. The other had silver hair and the unmistakable pointed ears of an elf.

The priest’s eyes locked on the newcomers and the last of his strength seemed to drain away. He almost fainted against Sein’s supporting arm. The purple-haired woman stepped forward so quickly that she nearly lunged across the small space. Her voice came out tight with urgency.

“Tell me everything you know.”

The priest shrank back against his brother’s chest and shook his head.

“I cannot. She will kill me.”

The silver-haired elf spoke in a cold clear voice that cut through the fear in the room.

“She is not here anymore.”

Even Sein found himself listening with sharp curiosity. The priest still hesitated and looked from one traveler to the other.

“But…”

Frieren’s tone softened only a fraction yet the words carried firm reassurance.

“We will protect you. Do not worry.”

The priest drew a trembling breath and began to speak in a low unsteady voice.

“It all happened one night when I was—”

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In my docs, this story is titled "LinieBaru SlothIF". However, in truth, I think this is GeedIF. What do you think?

By the way, the artwork is work-in-progress.

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