#nilsa

It was strange to be back. 

She’d been at this place a week before she’d met the others and they’d gone chasing what felt now like some sort of wild goose chase. As Nilsa and her made their way back towards the centre of town, Nilsa striding ahead in what seemed equal parts determination and concern, the latter tinged with a little fear; Mithra found herself casting a look across much of the settlement, still scarred from the goblins that had purportedly raided a few days previously. 

The small town of Boroford had been less alien than a larger settlement might have been when she first arrived to meet that cursed emissary of the Queen, Bromm. She’d camped outside for about a week, arriving early to get the lay of the land, her brain too accustomed to monsters in the shadows to simply assume all would be well on arrival. But on the surface it seemed like a simple town, similar to where she grew up, if a tad larger. She’d enjoyed its rustic charm almost in spite of herself, ignored the curious looks and loitered in various spots throughout the town, simply enjoying the presence of people again; even if they were ignorant strangers, they were people, easing an ache for company she hadn’t known she’d had. 

Even then though, something had seemed strange. 

Back then some of the folks in town had only ever smiled, no matter the situation or insult given by others; even the hunter who had accidentally shot her in the forest when she’d been exploring the area cheerfully stated they’d both learned a valuable lesson that day before strolling away whistling. At the time she’d been wrapped up in her own problems and put it down to her own decades-long semi-isolation in the Verdant Thicket leaving her socially inept in this new environment. Now though…

She was no expert on humans beyond those she’d known growing up, and those memories seemed like they’d happened to a different person now, but she was pretty sure that they didn’t cheerfully smile and laugh about their mother lying slaughtered and unburied in the abandoned tavern next door. The words of Amelia the baker echoed in her mind as she chased after the agitated paladin.

“You should buy these cakes, the last my mother ever made! Aha!”

“Well you know, we’ve all got to die some time!” 

Then there was Nilsa, seemingly convinced that this ‘David the Caretaker’ they’d heard of was her brother, a bit of questioning had revealed that he could be human or aasimar, that Nilsa was not on great terms with her family and a joint agreement that whatever had happened in this place something was very wrong. 

Things only got worse when they arrived at the town hall. 

The woman behind the desk had the same smile, the same casual attitude; Nilsa was scary to most people or at least mildly off putting when angered. She approached problems like a charging bull with about as much tact; and the smiling old woman seemed only to become nicer, as if she were intentionally provoking the increasingly frustrated and distressed paladin. 

Watching her mannerisms and attitude though, the idea that the deceased caretaker, (verbally acknowledged to potentially be the deceased brother of the angry and heavily armed woman in front of her), was dead seemed to be an annoyance, something that simply caused more work. It was as if the woman was incapable of empathising or caring, or had been rendered unable to do some by whatever had happened in the town. As she delivered the news that the caretaker named David had likely been killed and left in the tavern they’d passed earlier; the smile, wide and horrifically cheerful, never left her face. 

“You didn’t even bury him?!” 

Nilsa’s sharp anger burned openly for a moment, a shift of tone that would have rung alarm bells in a sane person’s mind, Mithra was immediately on edge as she saw Nilsa grasping the hilt of the blade on her belt. 

“What kind of people do not even bury their dead and leave them to rot!?!”

The old woman’s smile never faltered, never moved; there was only the slight tilt of the head as if the question was foolish. 

“Well the caretaker hasn’t been doing his job has he? Clearly we need to find one that is better at what he’s supposed to do.” 

The blade began to leave its sheath as Nilsa’s face darkened and fury played across her features, her mismatched eyes burning into the older woman behind the counter. Mithra wanted to be disgusted and felt for Nilsa’s potential loss; but they couldn’t start something here. This town, these people: they were either mad or magically compelled and confronting either situation with their companions scattered across much of Boroford would only end one way. 

Her hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently resting on Nilsa’s shoulder in an attempt to both check her actions and reassure her. 

“This isn’t worth our time right now, this isn’t normal. We should go.’ 

Mithra was grateful when Nilsa released a breath and nodded, offering an irate comment to the woman before turning sharply on her heel and leaving the building, Mithra a few paces behind her. Before crossing the threshold of the town hall she gave one last glance over her shoulder.