Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 296 - New-old meadows

“What happened to you?”

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Scarlett’s question lingered as they made their way through the dense forest, pushing aside the thick underbrush. Arlene leaned heavily on her, one arm draped over Scarlett’s shoulder for support. Although Scarlett had given her healing potions, they hadn’t been enough for Arlene to fully recover. Despite her general aversion to physical contact, Scarlett had offered her help, knowing the woman might collapse otherwise.

“I do not recall any monsters in this area that should be cause for alarm,” she added, glancing at Arlene’s pale face. Certainly none that could do this to the woman.

“It wasn’t a monster,” Arlene replied, her voice strained and low, gaze fixed ahead. “It was a person. Or something close to it.”

Scarlett frowned. “Who?”

Could it have been a member of the Tribe of Sin? She had no idea who they were at this point in time, but they must have some powerful individuals, or they wouldn’t be such a problem for the empire.

Arlene’s eyes flicked towards her, scrutinising. “…You never said what you and your sister are doing this far out in the forest. It’s a strange place to bring a child.”

“…Is it really the time to interrogate your benefactors?” Scarlett countered.

“And is it not natural to want to know what dangers might be nearby?” the younger Scarlett chimed in from the side. “We would not want to meet the same fate as you did, after all.”

The girl stepped carefully over the roots and stones, not hiding her less-than-enthused expression. It wouldn’t take much to recognise her as the daughter of a noble simply by her poise and the tailored green dress she wore — the same one Scarlett had seen her in during that first Memory they met.

Arlene glanced at the girl, then back at Scarlett. “Your sister is remarkably mature for her age. She reminds me of my own sister.”

Scarlett was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I often think the same.”

A brief quiet fell as Arlene looked ahead again, then finally spoke. “Her name was Vail. The one I fought.”

Scarlett stopped in her tracks, forcing Arlene to a halt as well. She turned sharply towards the woman. “Vail?”

“Yes.” Arlene studied her closely for several seconds. “She introduced herself by several names, but that’s the only one I remember.”

“…Did she have violet hair?” Scarlett asked.

Arlene’s eyes narrowed. “…Yes, though it turned silver eventually. Do you know her?”

Scarlett scanned their surroundings, her gaze darting among the trees. Only after being completely sure they weren’t being followed did she let out a slow breath. They seemed safe, at least. But what if it was only a matter of time before they were caught?

If anyone could leave Arlene in this condition, it would be Vail. If the woman had gone as far as to introduce herself and change her form, it meant she had been serious. But Scarlett hadn’t even known Vail was active during this time. That was more than troubling.

Much like The Angler Man, Vail often went into long periods of dormancy. That she had surfaced now implied this was one of the times when the Hallowed Cabal was more active. Was it connected to the Tribe of Sin’s conflict with the empire?

“Are we going to stand here all day while you brood?” the younger Scarlett interrupted, her tone devoid of both concern and sympathy. She regarded Scarlett from a few steps ahead, arms crossed.

Scarlett met the girl’s eyes.

…She was right — standing around wouldn’t help. If Arlene had escaped, it probably meant Vail wasn’t in a state or mood to give chase. Besides, if Vail had killed Arlene here originally, Scarlett would never have met her in Freymeadow in the first place.

“…Judging by your silence, I’ll assume that you do know her,” Arlene said. There was now more than a trace of suspicion in her voice, but that didn’t cause her to back off from Scarlett. Not that she had too much to be worried about. Even in her current state, Arlene could probably deal with them both easily.

“I have heard of her,” Scarlett admitted. “As you can no doubt attest, she is an exceedingly dangerous individual, even to those who have little to fear.” She considered Arlene for a moment. “…The question is why she came after you. And why here?”

Arlene met her gaze briefly before looking away, a weary quality seeping into her voice. “I don’t know. I was searching for something in this area, and she simply appeared. She seemed…strangely fixated on my name. But you’re right — she’s dangerous. More so than anyone I’ve faced before.”

Unlike the cold, composed Arlene Scarlett had seen in the last memory, this version felt rawer, more worn down. And it wasn’t only due to her current injured state. The woman simply seemed like she had seen a lot more.

Yet there was still a very noticeable edge beneath the surface.

“There are very few who survive an encounter with Vail,” Scarlett said. “Even fewer learn her name. She seeks out strong individuals, taking their names for herself and discarding them when they no longer serve her. The fact that she did not hold back against you says much.”

Could Vail have acted independently of the Cabal, targeting Arlene on her own? From what Scarlett knew of her, it wouldn’t be out of character. But where had they fought? If it had been nearby, there should have been signs of a battle.

“And how do you know that?” Arlene asked. She glanced back at Scarlett. “…What did you say your name was?”

“She did not say,” the younger Scarlett responded in her place. “For that matter, we never claimed we were sisters this time, but you seem to have assumed that, regardless. I will try not to be offended. My name is Scarlett Bernal.” She gestured towards Scarlett. “And this is Amy Bernal.”

Scarlett eyed the girl. After all this time, hearing her real name felt odd. Had she really grown so detached from it?

“…You’re right,” Arlene said after a pause, considering the girl for a few seconds, then returning her attention to Scarlett. “Now, tell me how you know so much about Vail. Who is she?”

Scarlett pressed her lips together. “While I understand your curiosity, I am not in a position to explain fully. What I can tell you is that Vail and those aligned with her stand as adversaries of mine. You likely already suspect who they are, so you should know that I mean you no harm.”

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Arlene didn’t respond immediately, her expression remaining cautious. Still, her silence suggested she was willing to accept that response — for now. Whether that would hold in the future was another matter.

The younger Scarlett clicked her tongue in mild displeasure. “Look at this. People are always far too tolerant of your endless non-answers. Can they not see how absurd it all is? It exasperates me to no end.”

Arlene looked at her. “I take it this is…common.”

“Oh, incessantly so.”

“You don’t seem particularly pleased with that.”

“Why would I be?” the girl asked. “It gains me nothing. One could argue I lose from it. People certainly never extended me the same leniency.”

“This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion,” Scarlett interrupted, her gaze locking onto the younger version of herself. To her surprise, the girl actually went silent, though it probably wasn’t out of obedience or anything like that. Meanwhile, Arlene observed them both carefully.

They resumed their trek through the forest in relative quiet, their progress slow but steady as Scarlett supported Arlene. Though the trees, trails, and paths were unfamiliar to her, Scarlett had traveled through this area enough on her way to Freymeadow to navigate with the tall peaks of the Whitstone Mountains as her guide. The younger Scarlett had been right in saying that the village wasn’t far off.

After a few minutes, even the trees began to look familiar, and soon they emerged into a small clearing, the air heavy with the scent of damp soil and budding leaves. Scarlett’s steps paused as her gaze landed on the sight before them, a view she had seen countless times before. What caught her attention, though, was the white rift at its center.

The Anomalous One’s presence was still following her in these Memories. This rift looked even larger than the previous one as well. But it didn’t appear to be doing anything…yet.

“What is it?” Arlene asked, looking at Scarlett with light confusion. Her eyes moved to the center of the clearing, and a furrow formed on her brow. For a moment, her expression shifted, becoming unreadable.

“…We should keep moving,” she finally said, her face returning to normal as though the brief shift had never happened, and the rift didn’t exist.

Scarlett watched her closely, but said nothing. “Yes, you are right,” she agreed quietly. She glanced at the younger Scarlett, who studied the rift with mild interest before they continued across the clearing.

The path from here was etched deep in Scarlett’s memory, and she guided the other two along a trail marked by twisted roots and overgrown foliage. Before long, they stepped into a wide glade. A thin river wound lazily around its edges, and beyond it, a small village came into view, its modest wooden-roofed houses huddled behind a low stone wall, while the bleating of sheep from a nearby enclosure carried faintly on the breeze.

“Welcome,” Scarlett said, as much to Arlene as to the younger Scarlett, “to Freymeadow.”

As they entered Freymeadow, they were greeted by a mix of curious and wary gazes. The villagers paused in the middle of their daily routines to glance at the newcomers — middle-aged women, weaving or scouring wool, men hefting tools or bundles of firewood. Children playing nearby froze to gawk at their trio as though they were travelers from some far-off mystical land. The dirt path through the village, well-trodden and lined with the simple houses, seemed to amplify the weight of attention they drew.

For Scarlett, this was a familiar experience. The faces around them were ones she recognised, their features unchanged from how she remembered them. The only unfamiliar element was the younger Scarlett and this version of Arlene beside her. This Arlene had fewer wrinkles around her eyes, and only the faintest streak of white marked her hair. She hadn’t yet fully acquired that dark, haunted look that Scarlett had come to associate with the older Arlene.

“These people seem…shocked,” Arlene observed, her gaze sweeping over the onlookers. “And they don’t seem to recognise either of you.”

“We never said they would,” the younger Scarlett replied, barely sparing a glance at their surroundings. “Technically, neither of us has been here before.”

“‘Technically’?” Arlene repeated with a raised brow.

“An acquaintance of mine used to frequent this village,” Scarlett explained, stepping in before her younger counterpart could say more. “But it is true that I have never personally set foot here until today. Regardless, it is the nearest settlement in this region. You will not reach Freybrook without a carriage.”

As they walked deeper into the village, the residents’ eyes remained on them. Arlene’s expression grew thoughtful as she studied the people, though her features did soften slightly at the sight of the children, who seemed particularly fascinated by the younger—and uninterested—Scarlett.

Eventually, they reached the village square, an open space dominated by a simple wooden platform at its center. Scarlett’s gaze drifted over the surrounding buildings until the sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention. She turned to see a man walking towards them, his short, greying hair and weathered face marking him as the village head.

“So, it’s true what they said about outsiders,” he remarked as he stopped before them, his gaze taking in their group. His eyes widened when they landed on the blood seeping through Arlene’s clothes. “Goodness, what happened to you? Are you well?”

“It would have been preferable if I were,” Arlene replied dryly. “Are you the elder or head of this settlement?”

The man nodded, wiping sweat from his brow with a worn sleeve. “That I am. Name’s Daquan. But are you sure you should be standing? I’ve seen enough injuries in my time, but that looks…severe.”

“I’ll manage,” Arlene said, shaking her head. “Believe it or not, I have had worse. I just need time to recover.” She glanced around the square. “…I don’t want to impose, but would it be possible for me to stay here for a short time?”

Daquan blinked, his eyes moving between them for a moment, lingering briefly on the younger Scarlett’s expensive, if slightly dirtied, dress before he nodded slowly. “Of course, of course. We’ll always make room for those in need.” He pointed towards a house across the square. “You can rest there. That place belonged to the previous village head before he passed. I’ll speak to some of the women and see if we can’t scrounge together some poultices and bandages to help you with your injuries.”

Scarlett followed his gesture to the house, its small porch overlooking the square. It was the very same porch she’d sat on so many times before.

“That would be much appreciated,” Arlene said, showing a brief, genuine smile that caught Scarlett slightly off guard.

The village head hesitated before adding, “Feel free to settle in right away. The house isn’t locked — the children sometimes play in it, so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting inside. I just hope you don’t mind the mess. I’ll return with the supplies as soon as I can.”

He turned and headed towards another house, where a middle-aged woman stood in the window, staring at them with sharp eyes and a basket of herbs in hand.

Scarlett watched him go. She was pretty sure his kindness was mostly sincere. The people of Freymeadow were generally kind-hearted, if understandably cautious of outsiders. While she had only interacted with a few of them herself, Rosa had grown close to many over the numerous visits they had made here in past iterations.

…How Rosa managed that, despite knowing the villagers’ ultimate fate, was something Scarlett still didn’t fully understand. She knew it hurt the bard each time they witnessed Freymeadow’s end.

With Arlene leaning on her, Scarlett guided them across the square to the house. She paused on the porch, her eyes drawn to a pair of wooden chairs. The image of the older Arlene sitting there, waiting for her return, flashed through her mind.

“I did not expect much, given the unremarkable nature of this village, yet I still find myself disappointed,” the younger Scarlett said with faint disapproval as she regarded the house. “Is this truly the best they have to offer? I cannot see why either of you would choose to spend so much time here.”

Scarlett shot her a sharp look, resisting the urge to reprimand her for the careless comment, but Arlene didn’t seem to notice what was strange about it. Instead, the woman removed her arm from Scarlett and carefully stepped onto the porch, lowering herself into one of the chairs. Once again, the image of an older Arlene overlapped with the younger woman before Scarlett.

She wondered how things had played out originally, without her presence here. What difference did her actions make now? Would Arlene have found her way here only after she was on the brink of death, or would it barely have affected things?

…Could Scarlett change things here?

She shook those thoughts away. There was no point in dwelling on pointless potentialities. Arlene’s life had already followed its path, and no matter how vivid these Memories seemed, there was no altering that past. Scarlett’s goal was to find what lay at the end of these Memories and glean what knowledge she could in the process. Besides, she had made a promise to the real Arlene.

“Something on your mind?” the woman asked, considering Scarlett.

“No,” Scarlett replied. “Nothing important.”

She stepped onto the porch and walked to the house’s door. “You may remain here. I will see what this place has to offer.”