Clara raised an amused brow. "I'm just teasing you, Doreen. I'll fry up another batch myself later. Once it's done, I'll have Adam bring some over."
Doreen let out a huff of laughter, raising a hand as if to smack her, but Clara easily sidestepped the motion.
Kate, munching on a roasted chestnut, couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips—it wasn't often she saw Doreen outwitted.
"Oh, honestly," Martha shook her head. "A bunch of grown women, bickering like children."
The courtyard was warm with laughter when the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted the merriment. Clara's ears twitched—she turned sharply toward the gate.
Ben and Ryder burst in, faces flushed with urgency.
"Aunt Clara, they—they..." Ryder was panting so hard from running that he couldn't finish the sentence.
Clara's smile disappeared. She turned to Ben.
Ben took a deep breath and forced the words out, "They're back! And they brought... three mats!"
"Who?" Clara frowned.
Ryder finally caught his breath and shouted, "The men—they're back! The ones who went to the border!"
Everyone in the yard froze.
Ben repeated the part about the three mats, urging Clara to hurry—he hadn't seen Lester Liew among the returning men.
Martha's face paled instantly. Seeing Clara stunned in place, she urged her on. "Go, Clara—go see for yourself."
Clara popped the sugar-roasted chestnut in her hand into her mouth and dashed off like the wind.
Adam, who had been nearest to her, caught a glimpse of a fleeting smile that passed across her face—and for some reason, his heart tightened.
Ben grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him along in pursuit, but Clara was too fast. In the blink of an eye, she had already reached the village entrance.
Most villagers were still on their way, but Ben and Ryder had been playing near the watermill factory's fallow fields and happened to spot the returning group first.
The entire factory crew had followed along, now gathering around the three rolled-up grass mats, no one daring to approach.
Forty-five men had set out for the border. Now only thirty-five had returned—alongside three mats. The group had met each other on the road after leaving Jadebriar Province, and returned home together.
Women rushed forward—wives, mothers, sisters—each searching for their loved ones among the survivors. Those who found them wept with joy.
Those who didn't stood still before the mats.
The corpses had been dead for quite some time. Even in this winter cold, their bodies had changed. A strange stench clung to the air.
No one dared lift the mats. They were waiting for the clan head and village chief to arrive.
Clara was the first to rush forward. Amid the crowd's gasps, she showed no fear, lifting all three grass mats in one go.
Those who arrived after—Martha, Kate, Doreen—turned away in horror.
Adam yanked Ben and the twins back, shielding their view with his body.
Only then did Ben force himself to glance past Adam's shoulder, sweeping his gaze over the decomposed faces. None were familiar.
He let out a breath of relief.
But Clara, the one who had lifted the mats, looked... disappointed.
Old Walter Liew, who had just returned from the fields, happened to catch her expression and was puzzled.
The dead weren't Lester—so why didn't she look relieved?
Could it be... she was worried he was still out there, unaccounted for?
A wail tore through the silence. Someone had recognized their husband—and nearly fainted from grief.
All three corpses were soon claimed.
But the village chief—unable to find even a body—felt his heart sink.
His grandson, Quinn Liew, had not returned either. Had he been delayed on the road? Or had something happened? Was he lost to the wilds, unable to find his way home?
He dared not think further. Spotting Clara and the rest of the Liew family looking just as despondent, he stepped forward and asked her,
"There are still seven men unaccounted for. My Quinn among them. I'm thinking of going to the county office to make inquiries. Would you come with me?"
He still knew a few people at the Office. If any of the conscripted porters had died, their names would have been recorded.
If neither Quinn nor Lester were listed, it could mean they were still making their way back.
Old Walter and Martha both turned to Clara. Martha gently patted her shoulder. "Go on. We'll look after the children here at the old house. Better to know than wonder."
Things had finally been looking up for Lester's household. Clara was capable and generous, and she got along well with her sisters-in-law. No one wanted to see her widowed so young.
Clara glanced again at the three corpses. None bore even the slightest resemblance to Lester.
She sighed inwardly—how could it be that even in a pile of dead bodies, that useless Lester wasn't among them?
"Alright. I'll go saddle the horse," she said with a nod. Best to check the county list in person.
As she turned home to fetch the horse, Adam led the younger ones after her. The four children trailed behind with worried eyes.
Deb, uncharacteristically somber, asked, "Mama, why did some people die?"
Clara had told them before that the conscripted men were just delivering grain to the border troops. Once the deliveries were done, they'd be back home—maybe even in time for New Year's.
So how had some of their fathers ended up dead?
Clara paused, turned to the children, and waved Deb over. The girl trotted to her side, looking up at her with wide, confused eyes.
Clara softened her voice. "The road's not easy, sweetheart. Maybe they slipped. Or maybe they fell ill."
That answer might satisfy someone Deb's age—but Adam and Ben both lowered their eyes, their expressions complicated.
After all, that man was still their father. They hated him, but they'd never wished him dead—not out there, so far away.
But no one could be blamed for this. Their father had brought it all on himself.
Ben clenched his fists. If his father really didn't make it back, then next year, he would burn loads of paper offerings for him!
He'd heard that even the underworld's gatekeepers judged people based on what they were given. If he sent enough paper money, maybe Dad could bribe the ox-headed and horse-faced demons, and be reborn into a decent family—one that wouldn't raise a scoundrel.
Adam, as if reading his brother's mind, muttered under his breath, "You're a real filial son."
Ben growled in frustration, "He stole every copper we earned!"
He was still willing to burn paper offerings—that was more than generous.
Chad looked blankly between his older brothers, then at his sister, who seemed to be worrying but didn't quite know what about. Feeling awkward, he shuffled toward the stable and mumbled,
"Mama, I want a candied hawthorn stick."
Adam stared at him—yet another dutiful son!
Clara's gloomy mood dissipated like clouds after rain. She smiled and nodded. "Alright."
Then she looked to the other three. "What about you?"
Adam thought about the sweet, tangy flavor and swallowed hard. "W-well... I guess I'll have one too."
Might as well not let Clara go into town for nothing.
Clara reminded them to stay at the old house and wait for her return. Then she mounted her horse and galloped off toward the village entrance.
The village chief had already gathered the other five affected families. Each sent a representative, and the group climbed into the chief's ox cart, heavy with worry, heading to Willowridge County Town.
(End of Chapter)
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