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16.66% Scarred Glory:Field of Redemption / Chapter 4: A Trail of Shadows

Kapitel 4: A Trail of Shadows

The brothers didn't waste a moment as they plunged into the winding streets, determined to trace every step their mother might have taken. They knew the paths she walked, the places she worked—each one marked in their memories like a map. But it was a map filled with dead ends, and today, the roads seemed longer, the alleys darker.

"We'll try Old Sam's next," Adélard murmured, glancing at Leon beside him. "If she's not there, then we'll check the factory."

Leon nodded, his face set in serious concentration. Despite the gravity of their search, he couldn't help but glance around nervously. The market had come alive now, the once-quiet streets brimming with people. Vendors shouted, carts rattled, and a sea of unfamiliar faces blurred together. Every time someone brushed past them, Leon flinched, half-expecting to see the thugs from last night, lurking in the crowd.

Adélard noticed. "Hey," he murmured, squeezing Leon's hand. "Don't worry. They won't bother us today."

"But what if they do?" Leon whispered, eyes wide. "What if they find us?"

"Then I'll take care of it," Adélard said softly, his voice steady. "I won't let anything happen to you, Leon."

The younger boy nodded, trying to look brave. Together, they turned down a narrow side street, making their way toward Old Sam's—the rundown tailor shop where their mother sometimes mended clothes for a few extra coins.

The shop was little more than a hole-in-the-wall, squeezed between a bakery and a cluttered pawn shop. The window was cracked, and the faded sign above read "Sam's Stitches" in peeling letters. Adélard pushed the door open carefully, the bell above the entrance jingling softly.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of dust and fabric. Bolts of cloth were stacked haphazardly against the walls, and bits of thread covered the floor like fallen confetti. Old Sam himself—a hunched, wiry man with bushy eyebrows—was hunched over a sewing machine in the corner, his eyes squinting in concentration.

"Morning, Sam," Adélard called gently.

The old man looked up, blinking as if he'd just noticed them. "Eh? Who's—oh, it's you kids. What are you doing here?"

"We're looking for our mother," Adélard explained. "Have you seen her today? Did she come by?"

Sam scratched his head thoughtfully, his fingers stained with ink and fabric dye. "Your mother… huh, let me think… Ah, yes! She was here yesterday. Fixed up a couple of coats for me."

Adélard's heart leapt. "Did she say where she was going after?"

Sam frowned, his brows knitting together. "She mentioned something… something about a job. Said she had to go see someone. Didn't say who, though. Looked worried, she did."

Leon exchanged a glance with Adélard, his small face pinched with concern. "Do you know where she might have gone, Mr. Sam?"

"Couldn't say for sure," Sam grumbled, scratching his chin. "But she left in a hurry, like she didn't want to be seen. Maybe try the docks? There's always work there, even if it's not the best kind."

Adélard nodded slowly. The docks. It made sense. It was a rough place, teeming with men looking for cheap labor, and their mother often took whatever work she could find, no matter how dangerous.

"Thank you, Sam," he said quietly. "We'll check there."

But as they turned to leave, Sam called after them, his voice gruff but strangely gentle. "You two be careful, you hear? That's no place for kids like you. If you run into trouble, you come back here. I don't have much, but…" He hesitated, then sighed. "Just be safe."

Adélard nodded gratefully. "We will. Thank you."

The brothers stepped back into the bustling street, the noise and chaos of the market washing over them. The docks were on the far side of town, a good distance away. Getting there unnoticed would be difficult, especially with so many people around. But they didn't have a choice.

"Adélard," Leon whispered as they walked. "Do you think she's okay?"

The older boy hesitated. "I don't know, Leon. But I know she's strong. She'll be alright."

Leon bit his lip, glancing up at his brother. "And if she's not…?"

"Then we'll find her," Adélard said firmly. "And we'll bring her back."

The docks loomed in the distance as they neared, the scent of salt and fish filling the air. Ships bobbed lazily in the water, their masts swaying against the gray sky. Workers bustled about, unloading crates and shouting orders. It was a place full of noise and movement, but it also had an undercurrent of danger—a sense of things hidden beneath the surface.

Adélard pulled Leon closer, his grip tightening protectively. "Stay right next to me," he warned. "And if I say run, you run. Understand?"

Leon nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. They slipped through the throngs of people, Adélard's eyes darting around, scanning every face, every shadow.

They asked around, speaking to dockhands and vendors, describing their mother—tall, blonde hair, always wore a scarf with little red flowers. But most people just shrugged, too busy or too disinterested to care. The ones who did listen shook their heads. No one had seen her.

Just as they were starting to lose hope, a rough-looking man in a stained jacket jerked his thumb toward the far end of the docks.

"Saw a woman like that yesterday," he grunted. "Was talking to some of the foremen about a job. Didn't look too happy when she left."

"Which way did she go?" Adélard asked urgently.

The man shrugged. "Dunno. But she looked like she was in a hurry."

Adélard thanked him, then turned to Leon, his expression grim. "If she was in a hurry, it means something happened. We need to find her. Fast."

Leon swallowed hard, his eyes wide. "What do we do?"

"We start looking," Adélard said simply. "And we don't stop until we find her."

With renewed determination, the brothers pressed on, pushing deeper into the maze of the docks. The air grew colder, the shadows longer, and somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled ominously. But they kept moving, their resolve unshaken.

Because no matter how far they had to go, no matter how dangerous the path ahead, they would find their mother.

They had to.


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