Ignorance is a Virtue

At sundown, a young girl emerged through a wooden door of an old house. She tried to quickly grab a thick green cape before fully leaving the old house.

The biting wind whipped at Leodora's cheeks, painting them a painful red. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and settled there, refusing to leave. Winter had long since claimed the land, transforming the familiar forest white and grey.

She was getting out of the small house, heading now to what looked like another house. She followed a short and fine road, handmade by the owners, which linked the main house to the other house.

With each step, she felt the sharp bite of small, jagged rocks pressing into the thin soles of her old brown leather shoes. They were not new, not by a long shot. A gift from two winters past, they had replaced the previous pair, which had finally succumbed to the wear and tear of countless miles. Those poor things had been beyond repair, riddled with gaping holes that let in the icy drafts and the biting rain.

A strange noise was heard far, coming from the thick forest surrounding the buildings. She stopped and immediately looked towards the sound. To her it sounded like broken branches, as if there was someone watching her from a far.

"H-Hello? M-may I help you?" She stuttered, intrigued to know. A moment of silence, only the soughing of the wind answers her.

She waited for some type of manifestation, but no answer, no sound, nothing was heard. It was freezing outside, the wind kept brushing her long chocolate hair, so she started walking towards the other house, her eyes still trailing the surrounding forest, searching for any indication of a presence.

As she continued walking, she tried to brush off the feeling she had felt, as if nothing had happened and no sounds were heard previously.

This another house was bigger than the main house and it could not be seen clearly because of the strong wind that blocked all the vision range. The other old house as in fact a tavern, the only tavern that the small and secluded village had, and the girl worked and lived there.

She was taller than the average woman, even for her young age, and she wore simple and ragged clothes, full of stains. Seeing it, it was obvious that those clothes were for work. It was night time but the paleness of her skin almost made her shine in the cold dark.

Walking towards the back door where the handmade road leaded, her destination was finally there and she put her hand in the door knob, tilting her head one last time to the area that the sound had come from, just to make sure that no one was there. Her green eyes searched the beginning of the surrounding forest, especially the portion of the forest situated in her left. The only things she could see was trees, which had no leaves since it was winter, the main house, some portion of the handmade road and the wind movement.

She put the feeling again to the side, brushing it off from her mind and her body, and calmy she twisted the door knob, pushing it so she could enter the storage portion of the tavern.

"Where is it..." She loudly thought, making sure to close the door shut.

After stirring the bags of cereals and bread around, a tiny object thought to be lost in the old house, was finally found.

" Hm...I must find a new place to put these papers in, I just keep on losing them...Well Leodora, you would not need them if you started to keep the costumers orders in your head, like a normal person!?" She accused herself.

Another wooden door stood before her, leading into the front area of the establishment. This was where she primarily worked, managing the customer-facing side of the business. Specifically, her role involved overseeing the bar, keeping it stocked and running smoothly. She also handled the orders from customers, patiently listening and recording them, before swiftly and efficiently serving their food and drinks.

In this time of winter, the business was still stable. They still had full stocked products as well as paying customers. Life seemed normal and regular for this girl. As she fully entered the front area of the tavern, she could hear the commotion, mostly loud talking, cheering, and screaming all around the room.

The familiar weight of the old pen offered a fleeting comfort as she picked it up, only to set it aside with the unused order slips. Her gaze drifted over the softly chattering customers at the tables. She forced a friendly smile, the one she wore habitually, a mental reset before engaging with them. Her mind already engaged, she approached the group, ready to take their orders with practiced efficiency.

"What can I get for you, gentlemen?" she asked, drawing the attention of three of the five diners.

The man closest to her, a burly fellow with a booming laugh, spoke first. "Five Boiled Garlic Rabbit on Parsnip Rice and four beers," he declared, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he laid out their order. 

"Yeah, Jaster here—" another of the men chimed in, his voice thick with mirth. He playfully tapped the shoulder of the youngest of their group, a thin man with a slightly bewildered expression. The tap wasn't harsh, but it carried a teasing weight that made the younger man squirm.

"Stop it!?" the young man exclaimed, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of red. He visibly cringed at the attention. "I am old eno–" he began to protest, intending to assert his age, but the sentence was cut short.

"Oh yes, of course!" he interjected, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. He mocked the younger man's frustrated outburst while simultaneously delivering a forceful pat on his back, making him flinch again. It was clear they were all enjoying his discomfort.

"I don't even like beer anyway!" the young man insisted, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and genuine dislike. He felt like a fish caught in a net of their jovial teasing.

The young woman, who remained composed through the men's boisterous exchange, nodded understandingly. "Understood. Five Boiled Garlic Rabbit on Parsnip Rice and four beers," she repeated, her pen scratching against the notepad as she diligently noted the order. Then, her attention shifted towards the young man, her gaze gentle and reassuring. "And for you? What would you like to drink?"

He hesitated for a moment, then replied with a soft voice. "Hm... water is just fine." he said, his shoulders relaxing slightly under the woman's considerate gaze. He seemed grateful to be acknowledged and treated like an individual rather than a target for his friends' amusement.

"Alright, that's five Boiled Garlic Rabbit on Parsnip Rice, four beers, and one water," she confirmed, glancing at her written order again to make sure everything was correct. "I will be back with your food shortly." With a final polite smile she turned away from the table, leaving the boisterous group behind and heading towards the kitchen area, where the smells of roasting garlic and herbs wafted on the air.

She had no knowledge, nobody taught her, she knew that she was not that smart nor that type of smart either. Everything about perceptive moments made no sense for her. She knew that something must be wrong. She tried to figure it out in her mind.

She rarely talked to other people, she normally stayed behind, secluded from everyone and everything. She used to think, ignorance is the biggest benefit that a human mind can have, and she lived by it, staying out of everyone's business, and keeping everything for herself. But people still had something against her. She did not know exactly what it was.

The problem was in fact not her as a person. She was badly treated because of rumours about her past. She first heard these whispers from drunk people in the tavern when she was younger. She initially paid no mind to it, but as time passed further, she found it hard to shove it to the side. People started talking louder and more frequently, so eventually she could no longer ignore.

The normal light beat of her heart started to beat faster every time someone so much as mentioned something regarding her and her past. She had no real memories of those times in the past. She only remembers the gentle man that took her and raised her since early age. The man that worked in the back area of the tavern, and the same man that she calls father with a gentle tone every day.

To him, she is his daughter. To her, he is her father. To the others in the village, she was substitute. According to them, he used to have a family, a wife and a little girl, but they both died. She does not know exactly how they died and when they died, only that it happened before he took her in.

Those who whisper also say that he only took her because his daughter died, so the man needed some kind of substitute, taking her in and raising her, since he did not have a chance to do it with his own daughter. She chooses to not to believe it, remembering everything that her father did for her all these years.

Leodora entered the kitchen, the heavy wooden door feeling no different than the back door. A warm smile greeted her. "I see you grabbed the cape." her father said, glancing up at her.

"Yes, Father. It's very windy out there, I almost lost my way coming back." Leodora chuckled, a light, melodic sound that danced in the warm atmosphere. A stray strand of her chocolate hair, usually tucked neatly under her cap, had escaped and clung damply to her cheek.

"Well, windy outside, but warm on the inside, at least. Many customers?" he laughed, the sound rich and full, returning his focus to the food preparation. The aroma of garlic and roasting herbs hung heavy in the air.

The kitchen was indeed warm. Leodora shrugged off her thick, emerald green cape, its rough wool still slightly damp. She carefully laid it on a small, slightly wobbly table tucked against the wall, near a stack of well-worn cookbooks.

"Yes, we're almost packed even in the dead of winter! Can you believe it?" she said, a genuine note of surprise in her voice. It was not normally this busy, especially not in the frigid heart of the season. The silence of the frozen land was usually mirrored inside but tonight was different.

"What is the common word?" He asked, a hint of curiosity sharpening his gaze, his knife pausing mid-chop. He seemed genuinely intrigued by this unusual surge.

"They say hunting season is upon us once again." she replied flatly, the common saying doing little to lift her spirits, the truth behind it a bitter one. The hunters brought the business, yes, but also restlessness, a shadow that lingered even when they were gone.

"Good grief, we'll do well this winter," he exclaimed, his face lighting up with an enthusiasm that was both contagious and a little naive, He had an uncanny ability to focus on the positives.

" Oh yes... almost forgot! A group of costumers said they want five Boiled Garlic Rabbit on Parsnip Rice" she said, realizing the order had registered without having to check the papers.

"Five? A hunting party?" he asked, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

Hunting parties were unusual, almost unheard of in such numbers. Lone hunters or familiar pairs were the norm, often weary-looking men who craved only food and a temporary respite. Large groups tended to be more trouble than they were worth, prone to internal squabbles, especially over shared spoils. Greed, Leodora knew, was a constant companion to the hunters.

"Yes. It is a rather large group, isn't it, Father?" she mirrored the worry that had just passed across his face, a shared unease hanging in the air between them.

"It is true. They will probably not survive this hunting season as a group. Greed will take over them and the surviving ones of this season will come alone next season. Now, go and serve their bread before any drink. Out-of-order costumers is the last thing we need." he said, a hard edge entering his voice, his concern replaced by practical action.

"Understood, Father. How long will it take to be prepared?" she asked, already moving towards the counter where the baked goods were stored, her mind already on the task at hand.

"About 10 minutes. Now go! And do not forget the bread first." his voice softened slightly, but the firmness remained.

"Yes, Father!" Leodora replied.

"No drunks in my-!" A fading voice shouted as she closed the kitchen door behind her, the final word lost in the thick wood. Leodora knew the rest of the sentence by heart: "No drunks in my establishment, unless they are properly behaved!" she finished it to herself.

She went to the bar, grabbing the bread from under the counter. Quickly, she placed the loaves in small baskets, preventing any fighting over food. Approaching the hunting party, Leodora put on her best smile. "Bread to keep you company, my sirs."

"Company? What we want is to keep warm!" one of them joked, drawing laughs from the others.  

They were a rough-looking lot, with weathered faces and calloused hands, the stench of wood smoke and sweat clinging to them. A few of them wore bandages, the telltale signs of recent hunts.

"The beers will be coming soon. I must restock them before bringing them to you. Or would you all wish warm and tasteless beers at this moment? I can bring them if that is your wish..." she added with a hint of playful sarcasm, raising an eyebrow and hoping they were capable of good-natured banter.

"Waiting it is." came the reply, the initial jester now subdued.

"Thank you..." the youngest of the group said softly, his eyes downcast, a stark contrast to the boisterous nature of the others; his hands were smoother, still without the marks of long hunts. He had the look of someone new to this harsh life.

"I will be back shortly, please enjoy the bread." She said, trying to inject a note of genuine warmth into her voice, before retreating to the bar.

A deep dark night had already painted the tavern's exterior, making the warm light from within even more appealing. A tall figure emerged from the edge of the leafless forest, his silhouette stark against the pale moonlight. Blood dripped from his hands, staining the frozen earth as he walked slowly but steadily towards the tavern, his boots crunching on the crisp frost. He gave off a presence that made Leodora's blood run cold despite the warmth of the tavern. The darkness brought out such people.