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At least the sky showed more pity for the earth than the heavens did.
"Anything up there?" one of the soldiers you were buddied up with called from the house's first floor. The attic you were in was empty, with only a single rocking chair next to the saturated window. The amount of spiders and bugs, half of which you couldn't even name, was urging you to climb down the ladder faster than you hoped for.
"Nothing here either," you call back, storing the ladder back in its place. You grabbed your pike from the wall it leaned against and moved on.
It'd been a good while since the stand-off in Paris happened. A few days at most. In all honesty, none of you expected to reach this far out, or even reach this milestone at all. It's not like you'd complain or whatever; you finally had something to stick around for.
With almost nothing planned from not expecting to be alive up until this point, you and the troop trailed towards the path that the evacuation carriages took. Eventually, though, you all agreed that survivability was worth more than serving a duty that would end with you all being on the frontline once again.
You branched off of the path to take a detour up north on the coast. Then, if ever the time comes when the whole of France gets overrun, you'll be able to seek refuge in Britain. None of you were exactly sure how you'd be able to transport yourselves there, but one of the soldiers insisted that they knew someone who was also planning on seeking refuge there— they had a boat you all could board along with.
After hours of trekking through the muddy tracks, you arrived at a small village. It was abandoned, naturally, and fairly remote from the known plague-infested areas. After a thorough lookout, there weren't any signs of the Blight either. It was a perfect quick stop for the rest of the journey. That's what you were doing here; inspecting one of the houses for anything to be collected.
It was a bit late in the afternoon, the sky was still grey from rain clouds. The weather has been unusually rainy for days now. No one could ever recall any part of France having this much rainfall at all. Some of you liked to think it was some sign from above, be it a good sign or not.
You walked over to the kitchen where your colleague was searching.
"I don't think there's anything left to salvage here," you sighed, leaning over one of the countertops to look outside a window. The rain had been calmer as well; no thunderstorms or ass-beating wind speeds. You had the chance to be more active these past days thanks to that. "Maybe there's some supplies in the forest, who knows?" you suggested lightheartedly.
He thought about it for a moment as he pulled out a pot from a cabinet. "We could try checking once we're done with this place." Not even a second later, the pot caused a displacement within the cabinet, and a whole bunch of other cooking utensils fell out and made a huge mess on the floor. "... Which might take longer now that that happened." He groaned and crouched down to start picking the items one by one.
You winced when you got a look at what he had to deal with now. You approach to help out with the smaller silverware scattered. "I could go ahead. Might save us more time before it gets too dark out."
"And get my head chopped off if you go missing? No way!" he exasperated sarcastically, letting out a snicker at his own words. "Knock yourself out. Just don't step on any of the old locals' hunting traps. Can't let the mistake back at the trail happen twice."
You place the utensils you collected back in the cabinet before tipping your hat as you dismiss yourself. "Thanks, man. I'll be back by sunset or earlier." You used the kitchen's backdoor to go out, squelching footsteps as you made your way through the moist grass. You stood at the edge of the woods for a moment, looking back at the house, then observing the stark contrast of how much sunlight was shaded by the woods. The woods were alluring, long story short. You took one last look behind you before you stepped further into the woodland.
Now and then, there'd be a tree either marked with black or red ink. Black ink was used for arrows to help guide one back to the village if ever they ventured out, while red ink was a warning that anywhere further hadn't been explored by the scouts, yet. A few minutes into your trip, you kind of got carried away from your original goal. You weren't exactly an earthy person, but walking around half-aimlessly had an odd sense of comfort. At one point, you just sat at the foot of a tree and stared at the falling acorns every few seconds. It was peaceful— eerily, in a sense.
You'd see a rusting bear trap here and poke a stick on it to set it off. Almost none of them worked anymore, but the ones that did gave you a nice adrenaline rush. You even spotted a rabbit at one point and tried sneaking up on it, probing your pike. You were only able to stab part of its ear before it escaped down a hole. At least you didn't completely miss it, right?
Funnily enough, a pinecone hitting your head made you remember that you were supposed to be searching for supplies. You stopped with your useless antics, no matter how much tranquility it gave you, and actually guarded up on the lookout. You walked for a while, reaching a tree with a red mark. It'd be wise to keep off, however, just ahead of that tree was what looked like to be a clearing of some sort. You knew you shouldn't be risking your safety and violating protocol, but what are the chances of something useful being out there waiting to be collected?
You decide to venture beyond the marked area and onto the clearing. It wasn't too large, with notable traces of previous logging from the cut-down tree stumps scattered. On one of the stumps was a rusty axe stuck onto it. You manage to pull it out and store it on your belt just in case. Some tasks aren't suitable for a mere pike, after all. You circled the edge of the clearing and noticed something just behind a bush. Horse tracks, and maybe wheel tracks as well? You couldn't tell whether they were fresh or not due to the rain making the ground muddy. Regardless, you followed the trail.
It didn't lead you too far away from the clearing itself. It led you to a worn-down crate. This definitely wasn't the tracks' final destination, but the rain faded away any marks left farther out. How convenient the axe you picked up was now, huh? You unfastened it from your belt and lightly tapped all around it for a quick inspection. Then, you try to lift it up, but to no avail. There was definitely something inside, and it was ungodly heavy. You took a few swings of your axe, all of which just made your arms recoil while only making holes in its cover.
Someone must've heard the commotion you were making.
"Hey! The hell are you doing here?!?" You hear an ever-familiar voice call out from behind you, causing you to drop your weapon in surprise. You turn around to see Jean trotting toward you. "Didn't you see the red markings???"
"Well," you started, picking up the axe from the ground while laughing nervously. "... I got curious." You pointed at the crate. "On the bright side, I found something."
He took a quick look at the object in question and sighed, reaching his hand out towards you to hand him your axe. "You're supposed to strike at it sideways."
Oh... That explains it. You give him your axe and he starts doing the job himself, making you feel awkward that the first thing he had to do was correct your mistake.
Jean didn't change as much as you did ever since what happened in Paris, albeit he got himself another shako to make up for the one he gave to you. Well, not exactly 'got', more like someone stole the shako from an infected officer and offered Jean to wear it. He kept on insisting that he didn't deserve it. It ended up with Jean being pinned by two men against a tree while another one fastened the shako 'against his will'. It was a pretty funny sight, you couldn't lie. They even tried lifting him up on their shoulders after that.
"I had a feeling someone was gonna be stubborn, but I didn't expect it to be you," he remarked passively. With one more swing, he lifted the cover-up, revealing four sacs stacked on top of each other. "These look... recent... You think the owner might be looking for it still?" He picked out the topmost sac and started going through it.
You pick up your own sac and untie the string keeping it shut. "If they were a local from the village, I don't think so." You reached inside and felt something metallic touching your hand. You took a good grip on it and pulled out.
It was... jewelry? A plain silver necklace. Taking a peak inside, the sac was filled with it. You raised it in your hand for Jean to see. "Are we gonna have a use for these?"
Meanwhile, he was pulling out numerous books from his. "I doubt there'd be any marketplaces left to sell it for francs, but we could get lucky if we encounter a trader," he replied as he put the books back in the bag one by one. He grabbed another sac, leaving you with the other one left to inspect. "Grab whatever fits your kit. I'm moving somewhere with more light." He starts walking in the same direction the clearing from earlier was in. You took the ones that looked the most valuable then dropped the sac back inside the crate. You took the other sac and followed Jean to the clearing.
The sky was still grey and raining. He just sat at one of the stumps while inspecting the third sac. You still thought it was amazing how keen he was with the rain; it was even more amazing how he hadn't gotten sick despite being drenched in it half of the time. You sat down at the stump next to his and checked what was inside the last sac. It had a lighter weight than the previous one with the jewelry. There were two plain boxes inside, one had a padlock while the other didn't. You took out the one without a lock first and opened it.
There was another wooden box inside of it, although with more intricacy. It had flowers carved as details, and in the middle was a circular picture of a grassy field. You slouch a bit to shield its contents from the rain and click it open. There was an elevated metallic plate with presumably a mechanism underneath it. On top of the plate were two figurines— partners, perhaps. One figurine was missing its leg, while the other was missing its arm. You turned the box around, seeing what you expected. There was a winding crank. It had a label just below it.
"_____ _f T_e Flow__s"
Maybe that's the song title? It's a shame most of the characters had worn off. You gave it a good few twists and turned it back towards you. The plate only rotated by a few millimeters before coming to a complete halt. Ah, how unfortunate, it was broken. You placed the music box back inside its container, reaching to test out the other box.
"This one's full of gunpowder pellets," Jean says out loud, looking over to your stump. "How 'bout yours?"
You pull out the padlocked box for him to see. "You know a way to open this?" He stood up from his stump and went to your spot for closer inspection.
"Well, I do have this thing they shoved up my belt." He pulls out a pistol, one of the other things they made him keep despite not wanting to do so. He picked up the box from your hand and aimed the gun closely at the lock, blasting off half of the padlock. "Hm. This isn't so bad after all." He handed the now openable box and went ahead to reload the weapon.
Inside wasn't as different as the last box; another intricately designed music box. This time, it had curtains, mimicking the look of a theater stage. You cranked it with a good twist and opened the music box. It didn't have any figurines like the last one, but this one was fully functional. He holstered his freshly-loaded pistol as soon as he heard the melody.
"Oh! It's one of those things," he said almost cheerfully. "I remember those always playing inside of toy shops as a kid. Never thought they could get this posh, though." Both of you went silent and just let the music play out. At one point, he started taking footsteps in odd intervals, as if following the music. The winding key finally lost its momentum and Jean took that chance to comment, "Ah. I think I know what type of song that is."
Curious, you look up at him. "What about it?"
He answered your question with another question, "You know how to waltz?" So that was what he was subtly mimicking earlier. No wonder the rhythm was oddly familiar.
"Isn't that the couples' dance?" Truth be told, you couldn't recall the last time you'd done a proper dance. But, you sure had a handful of experiences sneaking into theatres in your own childhood. You've watched a handful of intermissions to get the gist of the footwork and such, but overall you didn't have anyone to practice with. "Never got to try it— for a reason you could guess."
He looked at you almost disbelieving. "What? You've been missing out then," he exclaimed, stepping forward towards you. "What're you gonna do if you ever get a spouse in the future— apocalypse aside—? It'd be a waste if you hadn't prepared by then!" He paused for a moment, clearing his throat to give a more genuine voice. "Have you seen how it's performed?" You nodded in response. "How about the steps?"
You temporarily closed the box so it wouldn't get water inside. "My only problem is actually dancing it physically, really." It was silent for a moment before he thought of something.
"Wind the box by a few bits, so that the tempo would be slower." You looked back down at the box, gave it a quick wind, and reopened it. Then, he offered his hand to you. "While the time and setting are right, why not use it to our advantage?" Oh. You weren't expecting him to be this persistent to make you experience a proper waltz. You reservedly accepted and stood up from the stump, replacing where you sat with the music box still playing.
"Are you really sure you're up for this...? As cliché as it sounds, I'm definitely gonna be stepping on your foot." He simply let out a grunt of amusement in response.
"Our boots are harder than the average shoe, you know." he positioned his hand on your shoulder blade, the other hand waiting for your queue. "I'm probably as rusty as you are, so don't think too much of it," he reassured. Seems like he'll be the lead and you'll be the follow. You just shrugged before placing your hand over his shoulder and holding the other. He waited a quick second for the scale to be in line before he started moving.
It started simple; the usual back-and-forth foot motions, nothing too complicated or timely just yet. His foot forward, your foot backward, then sideways, then closed. Your foot forward, his foot backward, then sideways, then closed. Apart from the one time you accidentally stepped on his foot, as you promised, and got off-beat after forgetting one step, you were getting the hang of this. Further on, you were able to take much wider and clearer steps now. You couldn't put a finger on how to describe this feeling of the raindrops pattering along unbothered.
The music finally slowed to a halt, Jean slowly letting go of you to give a few congratulatory claps. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" You honestly had too much thought process going on to fully comprehend that the music already stopped. "It'd be a piece of cake to try the normal tempo now." He walked over to the music box and turned the crank to its limit. He returned to his position and waited for the scale once again. "Just move along the melody. Before you know it, you'd be flowing with it like a leaf at a stream."
it was the same as before, except you had to think your moves faster now. Astonishingly, you haven't made any mistakes so far. You've been able to keep up the same pace as him, and you were fairly proud of it. Your ears even rewarded you by finding a melodic pattern each time your boots quenched the wet grass. Footsteps in sync with the chime of the box, serving as an undertone for the main melody. You were following along better than your mind wanted to admit.
Then, he decided to step things up by a notch. Instead of the easy back-and-forth, he applied a circular movement, progressing about a quarter each step. This would've completely thrown you off if it weren't for your visual familiarity with this dance. It did catch you off guard, nearly making you lose your balance even. But, you adapted rather fast, getting accustomed to the feeling of your ankles turning. A quarter turned into a half, and eventually turned into three-fourths, making your clothes sway much more. From the plume of your shako to the tail of your jacket, your clothing felt like they were dancing with their own.
It was just like how the maidens' dresses would bounce in the opposite direction. How the ends of their coats swayed along the way of the legs. Instead of the thought of failing, your mind was focused on the image of this being an actual prance for you to enjoy. For you to bathe under the rain in. The wind with each sway was like a blanket keeping your skin and soul fresh with relief.
You felt a noticeable change in his grip during the immersive moment. Then, you felt your entire body being tenderly spun around. And when you faced him once again, it felt like you weren't at the clearing anymore. The raindrops sounded like they were going with the tune of the music box, adding an even crowdy layer to its tone. It was as chaotic and synchronized as a background orchestra; there was so much going on at the same time, yet it all came organized down at a point of singularity. It allowed the dancers to solely focus on themselves at that moment.
Just like how opulent the royals danced, unsuspecting in their small worlds away from France's suffering. Soles of shoes clanking against the marble floor under the chandelier. The warmth of the candles shielded them from how cold the outside was. It all ended up in a fiery and violent blaze for them. However similar it felt, it was oh so, so much different. They pranced in a safe haven, but you two rejoiced in the middle of world-ending terror. This wasn't a form of escape, no, no. It was your way to let the world know that you were fully embracing whatever status quo it planned to throw your way.
The music slowed down, time seemingly following along. Then, with one final twirl, he wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped you downwards. It was silent, the ambiance of the raindrops finally setting back in as it was. You decided to say the first thing that came to your mind.
"Liar," you say lightheartedly. He looked confused for a moment, before realizing what you meant.
"I'll admit, I had similar moments like this with a few lasses back in my prime." He hums amusingly before helping you back to stand up properly. "Now, at least you've got the basi-"
Both of you heard a shuffling noise nearby. You weren't sure which direction it specifically came from, but it was definitely close.
"It might've been a squirrel or something," he tried to hearten up. "We should get going. The sky's darker now." He went to his stump earlier and hoisted the sac of gunpowder over his shoulder. "Take what you want, now."
You hurriedly closed the music box and placed it back in its box, then back inside its own sac. You decided that you'd be bringing both of the music boxes along with you; they weren't even that heavy anyway. Jean just nodded at your decision before beckoning you to follow him back to the village.
You had a feeling you'd remember what happened her for the rest of your life.