3rd Frost, 123
In the months since the vampyre had regained control over his home, more refugees had come seeking shelter and aid. Together they had begun doing what repairs they were able to the manor itself, but mostly they had erected new buildings, simpler structures that could house them. The timber from the forests was raw, so the new buildings looked more like cabins than houses, but they kept the wind and rain off and the cold out, which, in the confines of the never-ending Frost, were the most important things.
After that, food was the main issue. When the group had first arrived there had been stored supplies in the manor house's cellars still, cured, salted, smoked and jarred items that had escaped the pillaging by being both far enough from the city that not many came this far, and also locked behind stout doors underground. Dreyfus, of course, had known where to find the keys and had shared out this wealth of provisions until they ran out. There were not many animals left alive after a year and a half of unbroken freezing temperatures during which nothing could grow, but between Monteliyet and the local hunters, they had been able, thus far, to provide at least enough that no one was truly going without. But that resource was all but run dry, any the chances of finding even squirrels or birds was becoming rare. The people were worried, but, surely, the man who had promised them safety would come up with something before they began, again, to starve.
Alongside that, there was the other issue. No one spoke of it, or if they did, it was only whispers behind sleeves or when far from the area that was quickly becoming a small village of huts. Every few days, someone disappeared. It hadn't been easy to notice, at first, as a lot of people had come without any relatives of friends and they trickled in at the rate of a few a day. But, the first time a body had been found, there had been no way to deny that something was happening. On the outskirts of the new settlement, between where the people were living and where they were felling trees for building, the body had lain, mangled almost beyond recognition, shredded and crushed. There had been a lot of speculation the first time, suspecting wolves, or a bear, or even the sort of wild spirits that were said to sometimes haunt the wide forests where no people lived. The talk had died down by the time the second body had been found. There had been more and people had started to keep track of their neighbors and housemates so that when people disappeared without a body being found, they knew now.
Who, or what, was causing this, the people were too tired, too used to unexpected deaths to investigate, but they thought that their new lord would. That was the job of a lord, right? To look after his people, administer justice and investigate crimes?
As Frost dawned, there was reason to hope that no one would freeze in their sturdy new cabins, but little other reason. Except for the man who demanded sacrifice and, in exchange, seemed able to, somehow, make things work out.
In the months since the vampyre had regained control over his home, more refugees had come seeking shelter and aid. Together they had begun doing what repairs they were able to the manor itself, but mostly they had erected new buildings, simpler structures that could house them. The timber from the forests was raw, so the new buildings looked more like cabins than houses, but they kept the wind and rain off and the cold out, which, in the confines of the never-ending Frost, were the most important things.
After that, food was the main issue. When the group had first arrived there had been stored supplies in the manor house's cellars still, cured, salted, smoked and jarred items that had escaped the pillaging by being both far enough from the city that not many came this far, and also locked behind stout doors underground. Dreyfus, of course, had known where to find the keys and had shared out this wealth of provisions until they ran out. There were not many animals left alive after a year and a half of unbroken freezing temperatures during which nothing could grow, but between Monteliyet and the local hunters, they had been able, thus far, to provide at least enough that no one was truly going without. But that resource was all but run dry, any the chances of finding even squirrels or birds was becoming rare. The people were worried, but, surely, the man who had promised them safety would come up with something before they began, again, to starve.
Alongside that, there was the other issue. No one spoke of it, or if they did, it was only whispers behind sleeves or when far from the area that was quickly becoming a small village of huts. Every few days, someone disappeared. It hadn't been easy to notice, at first, as a lot of people had come without any relatives of friends and they trickled in at the rate of a few a day. But, the first time a body had been found, there had been no way to deny that something was happening. On the outskirts of the new settlement, between where the people were living and where they were felling trees for building, the body had lain, mangled almost beyond recognition, shredded and crushed. There had been a lot of speculation the first time, suspecting wolves, or a bear, or even the sort of wild spirits that were said to sometimes haunt the wide forests where no people lived. The talk had died down by the time the second body had been found. There had been more and people had started to keep track of their neighbors and housemates so that when people disappeared without a body being found, they knew now.
Who, or what, was causing this, the people were too tired, too used to unexpected deaths to investigate, but they thought that their new lord would. That was the job of a lord, right? To look after his people, administer justice and investigate crimes?
As Frost dawned, there was reason to hope that no one would freeze in their sturdy new cabins, but little other reason. Except for the man who demanded sacrifice and, in exchange, seemed able to, somehow, make things work out.
