Chapter 9 Strange Little Town
A warm smell of freshly baked bread filled the bakery. Abélie eyed the display with longing, her stomach loudly protesting its hunger. There were already three customers when the small group from Eau-Claire stepped inside, all of them engaged in animated conversation with the baker.
“I heard the Duchess is going to marry a nobleman from the capital,” declared a woman in her fifties.
“I’ve heard that too,” replied one of her companions, a basket of vegetables in hand. “I hope they’ll throw a grand, beautiful reception. It’s been such a long time since we’ve had proper celebrations in our streets.”
The third woman, silent, paid for a loaf of bread, her expression gloomy. She left the shop without a word, which did not escape Oscar’s notice.
The woman with the basket watched her go before turning back to the baker.
“Why does Ruth seem so withdrawn these days?”
“Oh—so you haven’t heard?” whispered the other customer. “Her elder brother has disappeared.”
“Her brother, you say? The highway rogue?”
They both glanced around. Oscar pretended to be interested in whatever Abélie was staring at.
“The same one who used to rob convoys before getting caught?” one of them asked in a low voice.
The older woman nodded.
“Perhaps he fled to escape the guards. In any case, it’s no great loss.”
The woman with the basket nodded as well, though she still seemed saddened.
“Poor Ruth, all the same. And her brother isn’t the first…”
They exchanged a few more dismal words while the young Lord turned his attention back to Abélie, who was pointing at a large brioche. The baker turned toward them.
“Forgive me, dear customers—have you made your choice?” she asked with a gentle smile.
“I’ll take that brioche there,” the young maid said eagerly.
The baker took up her tongs and grabbed the pastry, casting a glance at Oscar.
“And you, good sir, what would you like?”
“That will be all, thank you.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Abélie insisted. “Everything looks so good!”
The baker chuckled.
“Thank you, young miss. Without boasting, this is the best bakery in Mulberry.”
As she spoke, she handed over the brioche wrapped in newspaper.
“But tell me—you’re not from around here, are you?” she asked Oscar.
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
“That’s right. If you have any places worth seeing in town, I’d be delighted to hear of them.”
She seemed to ponder the question.
“Well, we do have many shops and craftsmen, but I don’t know whether that would interest you.”
She cast an enquiring glance at the two other customers, but neither seemed to have a better suggestion.
“However, I would advise you not to go out at night,” she continued.
The young Lord raised an eyebrow.
“Because of the cold?”
“No, no—but there are some unsavoury individuals roaming the area.”
Oscar and Abélie exchanged a puzzled look.
“What kind of unsavoury individuals?” asked the newly appointed majordomo.
“Hard to say… sinister types, perhaps. They don’t speak to anyone, keep looking around as if they’re being followed, and there’s something unsettling about them,” the baker explained sadly. “I’m sorry I can’t say more—it’s difficult to explain. And I don’t stay out alone in the streets at night to gather further information, you understand.”
“Of course,” Oscar replied with an understanding nod.
Seeing that the baker did not wish to say more—perhaps out of fear—Oscar paid the few silver coins for the brioche and greeted the group with a nod.
“Thank you for the information, ladies. Have a good day.”
And with that, Abélie at his heels, he stepped outside.
He still caught a faint, “Such a charming young man, if a little severe,” before the cold air seized them.
Out in the street, little had changed, except that a fine rain was now falling over the city. Turning up the collar of his coat, Oscar surveyed the surroundings.
“Well then, what shall we do now? It must be around half past eleven.”
“Isn’t it time to head back? Perhaps Her Grace would be delighted to have lunch with you?”
“Hmm. Lady Brynn has given me complete freedom over my time, and I fully intend to use it.”
With that, he set off toward the other side of the city, while Abélie and the soldier exchanged questioning glances. Walking up the grand avenue, they reached the main crossroads—the one connecting the southern road, by which they had arrived, to the eastern road leading out of the domain. It was in that direction that Oscar headed.
The city, though calm, seemed insufficiently guarded to him. After all, Mulberry was the capital of the Duchy of Wingfall. It housed its duke—or at least, its duchess. It was surprising that there was not more security, or at least regular patrols. Since setting foot in the city, Oscar had seen guards only once—on the outskirts, not within the walls.
“What are you thinking about, sir?”
“Haven’t you noticed no soldiers are patrolling the city? In Eau-Claire, we would’ve crossed at least two patrols by now.”
“True, but Eau-Claire has far more inhabitants. Mulberry is a quiet town with a few shops, a market, and freezing rain. The soldiers would be bored.”
“That’s what I thought too,” he replied, “but after hearing about these troubling disappearances and those strange individuals, it still seems odd.”
“Perhaps—if you’ll forgive me—the Duchess doesn’t concern herself much with the well-being of her citizens?”
“And yet she would personally travel to an isolated village? We don’t know the true reason for her journey, but it does raise questions.”
They continued their discussion as they walked along the avenue. As the rain picked up, the few passers-by hurried into shops and buildings. Oscar noted the striking absence of visitors or foreigners. No business seemed geared toward tourism. The city likely received very few outsiders. For how long had this city been this secluded?