It seemed the entire village had gathered by the time we even made it to the square. Father carved a path through the crowd to get close enough to see what was happening, keeping Mother and I close in tow. Mother held me tight, rocking me to calm me down, humming that familiar song she’d use to lull me to sleep each night. It took my entire force of will to resist drifting to sleep in her arms. Damn it, I don’t want to sleep. I want to know what’s going on!

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and observed. Through half-closed lids, I saw a handful of soldiers stand firmly at attention, surrounding the small platform that usually acted as the crier’s stage. A tent was being erected beside it, along with a banner that clearly displayed some bird of prey in mid-flight with its talons reaching outward; the same crest was worn by the man who currently occupied the stage.

“Villagers of Fenn,” he began. Fenn. Huh, so that’s where I live. “It has come to the attention of the capital that you have recently endured an attack of magical nature.

As an imperial marshal, it is my duty to investigate all happenings involving the arcane arts, and to ensure no unauthorized magic use has been performed within my jurisdiction.” I looked at my mother whose demeanor was only given away by the smallest of swallows.

He went on, “My men and I will be staying in your village, conducting interviews with most of you to form an accurate report of the incident. While my investigation will be nothing less than thorough, I assure you it shan’t detract you from your daily routine.

Should I, or any men within my escort, require lodging or meals, it has been ordained by imperial law that such shall be provided without expense or question. Until my investigation has concluded, no one is to leave the village proper. Anyone found attempting an exit without my consent will be pursued and tried.”

The discontent from the crowd grew from quiet groans and mutters to outright shouts. The marshal continued to speak with that calm assertion, even as the rabble swallowed the sound of his decree, smiling all the while. His escorts looked less cheerful, countering the attitude of the closest villagers with shoves and threats of violence if they didn’t settle down.

My father brought his hand up behind him slowly, touching it to my mother as a cue to begin our exit. My mother started backing up, and Father followed suit without dropping his hand from her. When the crowd was sparse enough, my mother turned and quickened her pace. Father stepped to her side and matched her stride, and I watched over her shoulder as we went. I could see Donovar had met the marshal to speak with him on the platform. His speech now over, the excitement of the crowd rapidly dissipated, and villagers were heading back to their homes or businesses.

“A marshal,” my mother whispered frantically as we stepped into our cottage, “in our village! How could I have been so stupid?”

My father stayed by the door as Mother paced deeper within, patting me and rubbing me on the back as if she were trying to calm me rather than herself. 

“Gwen, we have to remain calm.”

“He’s going to sense it, the damned bloodhound. I’ve put us all in danger! I know I shouldn’t have used healing magic, but I just--” Mother was groping for words, trying not to let her tears choke her voice. “Just seeing you like that--” I reached as far as I could with my little arms and pat her back.

“He’s not here for us,” my father said as he moved to her. “There’s no reason he would even be suspicious. He probably doesn’t even know about us.” He touched one hand to her cheek and nearly cupped my entire head with the other. Then, seeing she was unconvinced, “We’ll leave. Tonight. When it’s darkest, we’ll slip away past his men and head north.”

A smile found its way through my mother’s worry. She looked at him and nodded, the word inaudible as she mouthed it okay. Father nodded in kind, echoing her with matched volume: okay. He held us both tightly, the three of us all huddled together, before whispering a final comforting sentiment. “He’s never even going to know we were here.”

There was a knock at the door.

What felt like hours must have been mere seconds as the three of us stared at the door in silence. Yet even those seconds must have been too long, for another knock came. An unsure look passed between my parents, until Father finally approached the door. 

“Greetings,” spoke the man. “I am Marshal Ildras Ven. You must be Krig.”