THE STORY CONTINUES....
Filler Chapter — A Day Without Bells
The town of Perkol woke up slowly.
Sunlight spilled over tiled rooftops like honey, warming stone streets still damp from the previous night's rain. Vendors pulled open shutters. Bakers cursed the heat of their ovens. Somewhere, a drunk sang off-key and was immediately pelted with a shoe.
Armin noticed all of it.
That, alone, felt strange.
He stood near the eastern gate, arms crossed, leaning against a stone pillar as if anchoring himself to reality. The smell of bread replaced rot. The noise of life replaced screams. His shadow—normal, obedient—rested quietly at his feet.
No bell.
He exhaled, realizing he'd been holding his breath for far too long.
"Still standing like a corpse," Simon said, strolling up beside him with two skewers of grilled meat. "I swear, if you brood any harder, the city will charge you rent for emotional pollution."
Armin glanced sideways. "You talk too much."
"And yet you haven't stabbed me. Progress." Simon grinned and shoved a skewer into Armin's hand. "Eat. Alfred says if you starve yourself, he'll personally drag you to the healer and make you drink broth like a toddler."
As if summoned by insult alone, Alfred appeared—armor removed, dressed in plain clothes that somehow still made him look like a walking authority figure.
"I heard my name," he said calmly.
Simon froze. "You always do that."
"I have ears."
"Suspiciously everywhere."
Alfred ignored him and turned to Armin. "City Lord Loyd wants to see us. Says he owes us gratitude. And explanations.
Preferably in that order."
Armin blinked. "Gratitude?"
Simon laughed. "Yeah, apparently saving the trade route, half the swamp border, and not turning the city into a haunted ruin earns you tea."
"…Tea," Armin repeated flatly.
Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder—not heavy, not commanding. Just grounding.
"Come," he said. "For once, nothing is trying to kill us."
Armin wasn't convinced. But he followed.
The City Lord's manor was smaller than Armin expected. Lived-in. Messy. Paperwork stacked everywhere like a defeated monster.
Loyd himself was… disappointing.
Middle-aged, smiling too much, robe slightly crooked, ink stains on his fingers. He looked like a man who argued with budgets and lost.
"Ah! Heroes!" Loyd beamed. "Or survivors. Or… people who caused me three sleepless nights. Please, sit!"
Simon leaned toward Armin. "If this man turns out to be secretly evil, I will eat my spear."
Loyd clapped his hands. Servants brought tea, bread, fruit, and something fried that Simon immediately claimed as "emergency rations."
"I'll be honest," Loyd said, rubbing his temples. "You arrived at a bad time. The swamp is unstable. Trade guilds are panicking. Merchants are—"
"—liars?" Simon offered.
"—merchants," Loyd corrected patiently.
Alfred coughed to hide a smile.
Loyd turned to Armin. "You, young man… your name has been circulating."
Armin stiffened.
"Not in a bad way," Loyd added quickly. "More like… confusion. Some say you're dead. Some say you're cursed. One woman claims you stared at her cabbage and it wilted."
"…I did not."
Simon nodded solemnly. "But he could."
Loyd sighed. "Perkol doesn't ask questions it can't afford answers to. For now, you're welcome here. All of you are."
Armin didn't know how to respond to that.
So he bowed.
It was awkward. Too deep. Too sudden.
Loyd waved his hands. "No bowing! Please! I am allergic to reverence!"
The afternoon passed… normally.
And that terrified Armin more than monsters.
They walked the markets. Simon haggled loudly and terribly. Alfred purchased supplies with military precision. Armin lingered behind, watching children chase a wooden hoop through the streets.
A girl tripped.
Her brother helped her up.
She laughed.
Armin's chest tightened.
For a moment—just a moment—he reached for a bell that wasn't there.
Simon noticed. Didn't say anything. Just walked closer.
Later, they sat near a fountain.
Alfred removed his gloves and let the water run over scarred hands. "The city will ask us to stay," he said quietly. "At least a few days."
Simon stretched out on the stone. "I vote yes. I like towns that don't scream."
Armin stared at his reflection in the water.
"…If I sleep here," he said slowly, "and wake up somewhere else… I'll still come back."
Neither of them asked where "somewhere else" was.
Alfred simply nodded. "Then this town will still be here."
Simon smirked. "Assuming Armin doesn't accidentally become a legend overnight."
Armin snorted.
It startled all three of them.
They sat there, watching sunlight fade, listening to bells that marked time, not death.
For one day—
Armin lived.
And that was enough.
TO BE CONTINUED...