Chapter 25:
The Villainess Confronts a Monumental Problem
CLAUDIA DECIDED TO VISIT the training facility once more before she returned to the capital. This time, it was less of a sympathy call than an inspection. According to the reports, many of the refugees had been transferred to temporary housing. She wanted to see with her own eyes how their lives had changed.
Claudia was taking breaks, but the concerns in the back of her mind lingered. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had overlooked something important, so she’d partly set out to alleviate her unease. Virgil didn’t accompany her this time. It was just her and Helen, with the local director acting as their guide.
As she stepped out of the carriage, the first thing she noticed was the drastic change in atmosphere. With the construction work nearby on hold, there was no longer a constant cloud of dust and dirt hanging in the air. The construction wasn’t completely over; there were still houses to be added in the future. They had prioritized families with children first. Those who hadn’t been appointed a home yet were still living in the facility.
“People aren’t clumped together in the plaza anymore, I see,” said Claudia.
The last time she was there, the refugees were still covered in filth as they huddled together in the plaza. It was comparatively deserted now, save for a few children engaged in some sort of game.
The director surveyed the plaza and nodded. “Having their own space has helped immensely. Those who’ve already moved into the residences are livelier. The cultural exchange had a real impact too.”
There were more women than men among the refugees in the Lindsays’ region. Those physically fit enough had been conscripted, and those left behind had fled their war-torn homeland. There were many single-mother households like Nelly’s. The local citizens had been eager to help when they learned about the refugees’ circumstances, especially in securing jobs for most of them.
“We provide a daycare system at the facility for all the mothers who must leave to work. Watching the children is a great way for the younger refugees to make a little extra coin, and we make sure there are adults present just in case,” supplied the director.
This system mirrored how orphanages were run. The director and his team had learned how education and playtime were structured there and done the same for the refugee children at the daycare.
“By the way,” said Claudia, “I heard the deacon was moved into the temporary housing already.”
“Yes. He’s living by himself.”
Smit was supposed to join the local monastery, but he’d chosen to live in temporary housing, lest he create too much distance between himself and the other refugees. He said he would move to the monastery once they were more accustomed to their new way of life.
“I’d like to speak with him. As I understand it, he’s closer to the refugees than anyone else,” said Claudia.
The director nodded. “That’s true enough. He should be resting at home today. Let’s stop by his place while I’m showing you around the residences.”
“Would it be all right to drop by without notice?”
“The man may be exhausted, but I’m sure he’d welcome the chance to see you, my lady. In fact, I think he’d be vexed if he missed it.”
It was a rare opportunity to be able to speak to a community leader. The only real time it was possible was when Claudia paid a sympathy call or came for an inspection. Other than that, one would have to submit paperwork if there was something they desired of her, and the contents of their request would be reviewed and possibly rejected. For the deacon, who was trying to support all the refugees in the community, her visit was probably more than welcome. The director assured her as much—and he would know, given that he’d been communicating with the deacon whenever time permitted.
With that settled, they headed for the temporary housing district.
“We’re the same age, but he has so much energy,” said the director. “He’s been shouldering most of the responsibility of looking after the refugees.”
“Isn’t that too much for him?”
“I’m always telling him to rest, but the man is determined and can’t seem to sit still. He should have more alone time now that he’s moved into the residential district, though.”
The residential district was spread out before her. She’d glimpsed it briefly during her carriage ride.
“All the houses are identical, which can make it hard to find your way. But we have signboards up in each section that designate the house numbers,” said the director.
The street in front of the houses was wide enough for horse-drawn carts. The alleys behind each house were comparatively cramped, perhaps three paces from house to house. All the buildings were positioned so that their backs faced one another. Looking closely, she realized that covered ditches dotted the alleys behind them.
“Those are for the sewer,” the director explained when he noticed the direction of Claudia’s gaze. “Toilets are positioned at the back of each house, and we have the river flushing water through the ditches to make sure no stench lingers.”
They had constructed the sewers on the alley side rather than out front—where there was frequent foot traffic—to reduce any unpleasant smells. They were calling this a temporary housing district, but depending on what happened from here on out, it might not be so temporary after all. Virgil was already considering developing the area into a proper town.
“I heard this may end up being the design for future housing as well,” said Claudia.
“Yes, provided there are no issues, we may start building other residential districts the same way. I’m hoping everything continues to go smoothly.”
The temporary housing district itself was an experiment. The region’s population soared year by year, so the administration had to plan for expansion. They were going to run out of housing otherwise, and they needed as many samples as possible for reference when the time came to build more.
“For single-person houses, we’ve opted for long townhouses instead of detached homes,” continued the director. These were sometimes also known as rowhouses. As the name implied, the houses took up long rows of land and were separated only by a single shared wall. From the front, the houses looked like a single building with doors placed at regular intervals.
The director knocked on the deacon’s door. When that didn’t seem to be enough, he rang the bell beside it. There was no response.
“Could he be out?” Claudia suggested.
“That’s strange. He usually tells me if he’s going somewhere.”
The deacon had no plans for the day, but it was possible he’d left for a walk.
While they were debating whether to return later, one of the deacon’s neighbors poked their head out. “Oh, that wasn’t our bell?” Evidently, they’d misheard.
The director took the opportunity to inquire about the deacon. The wall that separated their homes was relatively thin, so one could hear whether there was someone on the other side. “Do you know when the deacon left?”
“He hasn’t,” said the neighbor. “He should be home. I heard some noise in there a little while ago. Maybe he’s having trouble getting to the door because he stubbed his pinkie toe or something.”
That would be an amusing reason if true, but Claudia had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She pressed her ear to the door. There was no sound on the other side. The deacon was supposedly home, but she didn’t sense anyone. Her pulse quickened.
Panicked, she turned to her knights and ordered, “Break this door down!”
The director and neighbor were both taken aback by her command, but the knights busted in the door. As soon as they got a glimpse inside, the knights stormed into the deacon’s home.
Claudia had seen it too: the deacon with a noose around his neck, hanging from the ceiling of his living room.
The knights cut him down and began giving him chest compressions.
Claudia was frozen at the front door. There was nothing she could do to help, and she couldn’t scrub the image of his body swaying from the ceiling from her mind.