Old Friends in a Gloomy Place

"The gloomy days are over!", someone shouted into my ear, but before I could recover from the shock to turn around and find out who it was, he'd gone.

I found myself in a very packed inn in Montreuil. I rather liked the city but the tavern was chock full of fat, jobless, drunkards. Despite all the prosperity of the city, men always found reasons to be useless. But if not for these men, the very nice and hearty innkeeper would have been out of business. There was only one woman in the entirety of that huge tavern and that was the innkeeper's daughter.

She was no goddess but in that difficult, disgusting place, she was like sunshine. I ended up staying in that inn and although I never spoke that much with her, I liked seeing her work.

"'Nother?", she'd ask every time anyone finished their drink even if they were so drunk they could drop dead any second.

"Did you ask the lady for dinner, Natasha?", her father would ask very often.

"She's asleep", Natasha would reply.

I don't think this particular lady was ever not asleep. She was a guest who'd fallen on difficult times and was now staying with Natasha. I don't suppose anyone saw her. She wasn't from around those parts and she was too sick to help at the inn.

"I'm looking for someone", I told the innkeeper one night when he asked me what had brought me here.

"Well, believe you, me, I know a man or two 'round these parts", he said, scrubbing a glass for the ninetieth time.

"Well, he's rather famous. Or should be. I just don't know if I'll find him", I answered, "His name's Jean V."

"Jean V.? Odd name for a man", the innkeeper replied, not because he really thought so but because he didn't know a Jean V.

"I didn't think so", I muttered to myself.

It would have been too easy if I could just ask someone about Jean V. No one knew his name. I could perhaps take it upon myself to educate them about their benefactor but I didn't. I felt exhausted all day every day.

I spent my day wandering all around Montreuil next day. I didn't stop for a bit. And there was barely a soul left that I didn't inquire about Jean V. No one seemed to have an inkling of who he was. I thought I might just head to his home in the outskirts, but something made me think his house would be gone if I went there. I thought I'd stay in the city just two more days before concluding my search.

"Why, that's a name that rings no bell", I met an extraordinarily fat lady with an extraordinarily high pitched voice.

She had a lovely face nonetheless, albeit it was caked with makeup.

"You're not from 'round here? I could should you 'round, I'm so good at that", she offered, or rather imposed her offer on me.

I didn't have a choice but to follow her around. At least, she wasn't lying. She was rather good at showing around. Even though I thought I'd walked all of the Jade city, she managed to take me to places I didn't think existed. And she had knowledge about anything and everything that we encountered on our way.

By the time I was beginning to get tired of her speech, I noticed she'd brought me to a slum which I didn't think existed in such a prosperous city. It was quite small, but a slum nonetheless.

"And this here", she brought me to a statue in the middle of a square that was falling apart in a lot of places, "This is Monsieur Madeleine, who built this city. He was the mayor once."

"Who?", I asked, my eyes fixed on the uncanny resemblance in that statue.

"Monsieur Madeleine", she replied, "He-".

"That's Jean V.!", I exclaimed.

"Pardon?", she was baffled.

"That's him. That's the man I'm looking for", I was enthusiastic enough to be rather loud.

"Monsieur Madeleine? You were looking for him?", she asked, wide-eyed, "Oh, lovey, that's a problem. He's been gone for ages."

"Yes...well, there's this man that used to live up on that hill outside Montreuil..."

"On the hill? The hermit? I suppose he died two months ago", she looked at me, with a strange look, "Why do you ask, young one?"

"He died?", I wasn't really surprised or anything.

"Yes, well quite the useless lot, them all. Drunkards and idiots, them all. But let me tell you about Monsieur Madeleine. Man of character, he was, I assure you. You'd like to hear about him. He really did this town so good", she was onto a new start.

"I'm sorry, lady", I interrupted her, realizing I hadn't asked her name all day, "I think I'll leave immediately now. I'm hungry and the innkeeper would be worried for me."

"Eh? The innkeeper? What kind of innkeeper is he, lovey?", she seemed concerned all of a sudden but I didn't stick around to answer.

I almost ran back to the inn. I thought if it was about the hermit, the innkeeper would probably know better. And I was right on the mark.

"Good man", he began, "Despite what they call him, he was one wonderful lad, I tell ya."

 "What they call him...what do they call him?"

"Freak. But I known him, lad. I known him and he was one good man", the innkeeper seemed to be fond of Jean V., and for some reason, that made me happy.

"Could you tell me about him?", I settled down as Natasha brought me an oversized mug of ale.

"He'd come down here, sneak in mostly. The townsmen didn't care much for him. He'd just sneak in, grab some of my booze. Good man, he'd take anything I could give him. He was one jolly guy too. Did a lot for my Natasha here. She was sick and dying in bed. He had this medicine, I'd call it magic, really. Saved her when no one else could. You don't look down on those types, lad, they're the best of the best. He knew more than anyone in this town does. No school teachers got half the knowledge he did."

The innkeeper slowed down, putting the glasses down on the counter.

"He died a bit back. Roof caved in on him and all. He was living in that little hut all out in the open, ya know. When that red storm came, he went out. Such a good man, what a loss!"

The red storm...the red sky. I didn't think Jean V. had been alive at the time it happened.

"Where's he now?"

"Buried in that very place", the innkeeper was visibly saddened, "I takes him booze sometimes. If you're visiting him, son, mind taking this one with you?"

He unearthed a brand new, rather expensive looking bottle of ale from his counter and passed it to me.

"And while you're at it, drink a bit with him. Good man liked nothing better than a drinking chap."

I accepted the bottle and stared at it for a good ten minutes as the innkeeper went back to scrubbing the misty glasses.

"She's awake, pop", Natasha walked in after about half an hour and broke the dead silence in the hall.

"Oh, well just bring her out. I'll set the food", the innkeeper answered.

The tavern was closed for some reason. And Natasha was vigorously cleaning around. I suppose they had to close down to do any cleaning if they wanted to.

I wondered if I should leave and let the lady have her space. But I was too tired to move so I kept sitting at the bar.

The lady rolled out in a wheelchair. I don't think she was handicapped, just too weak to move around. Seeing me, she smiled, almost as if she'd been expecting me. I turned to her, noticing her stare.

It took me a bit to recognize her. She looked so different.

"Eso?", I almost jumped out of my seat.

She went on smiling weakly.

"It's nice to see you again, Seraph", she said.

Eso was sickly, deathly pale, as if she had no drop of blood in her. Her eyes had lost the glow I saw in them last time and she barely spoke without sounding like it took all her faculties just to push her throat to make a sound. Natasha and the innkeeper let us catch up, seeing as we knew each other.

All the while Eso was leaning back in her chair, she had her hand placed on her stomach, while Natasha occasionally fed her spoonful of something I couldn't see in the dark. With every bite, Eso graced Natasha with a look of gratitude.

She couldn't help but notice my stare on her stomach either.

"How's Chopper?", she asked, caressing her overgrown stomach.

"He's...well, uh...", I didn't really know either.

"Did you come alone? Isn't he with you this time?", the speed at which she asked about Chopper made me wonder if she wasn't in love.

When she couldn't get anything substantial out of me about Chopper, she went back to patting her stomach lightly.

"It's his", she muttered after a while.

"Huh?", I looked at her, utterly confused.

"When you see him next, Seraph, tell him that it's his child", Eso said, smiling weakly.

I just stared at her, as if I couldn't be convinced that she was alive, or for that matter, the child in her belly.

I didn't make any promises because I didn't think I'd ever get to see Chopper again, anyway.

"Your grandfather", I don't know why I had to mention it, "I'm sorry about him."

"Oh, how did you know?", she asked.

But I didn't look at her, pensively staring at my drink that was no longer cold or refreshing.

She smiled, "I'm glad you remembered him."

I couldn't bring myself to say sorry about Halen. I suddenly felt like leaving.

"I'll pay the bills now, keeper", I stood up, abruptly, "I'll just grab my rucksack."

"You're leaving, son? So suddenly?"

"Yes, I must", saying so, I ran upstairs and grabbed my rucksack that I hadn't really opened.

And then I hurried back to the bar, laying the due amount and more on the counter.

"I hope you're not leaving on my account", Eso said, smiling again.

I turned my head towards her.

"Well, either way, I'm glad I got to see you", a trail of tears found their way down her cheek, "Goodbye now, Seraph."

She was still smiling but those tears that only managed to last for a brief while, left their stains on her weakened face.

I nodded to the keeper and Natasha, spared Eso a last solemn look and left.

I didn't forget the bottle I was to offer at Jean V.'s grave. By the time I got there, dawn was breaking. I sat down in front of the remains of his hut. He'd been buried properly just beside the ruins.

"Hey there, Jean V.", I sat down, "Brought you something."

I was only supposed to join him but I ended up finishing the bottle. It took me about three hours to get it down. And during those three hours, I incessantly talked with Jean V.'s silent grave. I hadn't even talked with Prophet this much when he died but I told Jean V. about all the things in the world, trivial or not.

By the time I was finished with the drink, the sun had made its entry but the morning chill still remained.

I dug into my pocket to find Lady's letter. By now, I just knew it wasn't addressed to Jean. She'd written that letter to me. I didn't even need to open it to know what it said. I left the unopened letter at Jean's grave.

"Who cares what she says, anyway?", I muttered, knowing the wind will carry the letter to oblivion and neither I, nor Jean would be burdened with its contents.

I stood up, tipping my imaginary hat to Jean V. and leaving the empty bottle at the threshold of his old hut before saying my farewell to him.

"See you around, cowboy."