Here's another elaborate historical AU with some fantasy elements! Please be advised this story includes suicide mention, minor character death, and graphic violence.

Chapter One: Newcomer

The moon glistened on freshly fallen snow. It was a cold winter; the coldest one in memory. Through this dark and frozen night, a man took a shambling step forward. His foot plunged into snow and he stumbled, throwing out a hand to catch himself on a nearby birch tree. For a moment he paused, gasping to catch his breath and feeling the cold air burn his throat and lungs. He moved that hand back to press against his chest again when he continued moving. A bright red hand print stood out starkly against the white bark.

Close. He was so close. Behind him, a trail of stumbling footprints revealed his long trek along the stream, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead. There, moonlight illuminated the snow-covered steeple of Zaphias' church. He just had to… make it….

He stumbled again, and this time he dropped to his knees. Freezing snow pierced his pants legs and a shiver wracked his body. He leaned forward and pressed his hands into the ground to push himself up, but pain and weariness held him back. Bright red splattered onto the white snow below him. With a grunt, he managed to rise to his feet again, but he tripped over a rock after only a few more steps and collapsed forward. Sprawled on his chest in the snow, he tried to find the strength to get up again. He shivered again; he could feel the warmth draining out of his chest and seeping into the snow. Just get up, keep moving, reach the town and everything would be alright….

Snow crunched under heavy footfalls. The man peered up through blurred vision and saw a person walking toward him, coming from town. Thank God, help had arrived.

The stranger crouched before him and spoke in a deep, gentle voice. "It's alright now. You're coming back with me."

"Th… thank…." He didn't even have the strength to speak. He tried to make out any details about his rescuer, but all he saw was a wide-brimmed hat silhouetted by the moon. His head tipped forward again, too exhausted to wonder about their identity. Someone else was here, so he could stop pushing himself to stay conscious now. As he dipped into darkness, church bells began to clang midnight.

The sun was high in the sky as Flynn drove his coach toward Zaphias. The wheels trundled over the dirt road as it wound down the side of the hill. To his right, the road dropped off in a steep ravine culminating in a stream. Flynn had to squint against the bright sun as it reflected off both the thin coating of snow on the ground and shimmered on the English Channel ahead of him. It had been a slow journey through the rough and steep hills that made up the interior of the peninsula, especially during winter, but their destination was in sight and Flynn looked forward to sleeping in a proper bed tonight.

"Sir…" said Sodia on the bench beside him, "this is your last chance to reconsider."

"I have nothing to reconsider, Sodia. I've been looking forward to coming here."

She shifted uncomfortably. Though she was nominally his housekeeper, Flynn had so few friendly acquaintances and employed so few servants that he considered her more of a friend. He would be perfectly happy for her to speak to him as an equal, though Sodia had never been able to bring herself to do so. "It just… seems unwise to come here at this time. You should wait a few more years, perhaps."

"It will be fine. We were in Kemper for too long, and besides, I think you'll like it here."

She bit her lip. Obviously she still didn't agree, but wasn't going to keep pestering him.

After ten more minutes of driving, the coach finally reached the bottom of the hill and now drove along the banks of the stream toward Zaphias. A light cover of snow dusted the meadow between the hill and the town, contrasting with the deep blue sky overheard. Last December had been unusually warm, and today - the first day of the year 1628 - hinted that the rest of the winter would continue as such. Near the entrance to the town, they drove past a lichen-encrusted cavalry standing watch. It was a pillar of stone sitting on pedestal about two feet square. At the top of the pillar, the carving gave way to a broad platform with a crucifix and human figures. This one, Flynn knew, had been erected a century and a half ago after a particularly nasty outbreak of the plague in an attempt to ward it off from striking the village again. Flynn had seen many similar structures - some far larger and more elaborate and others even simpler - all across the countryside in his travels across Brittany.

They entered the town proper and now drove past curious residents rather than empty fields. Flynn nodded and smiled at anyone he made eye contact with as the coach wheels bounced on the cobbled streets. Zaphias was a town of decent size; not quite as large as Saint-Malo several miles down the coast, but larger than most of the villages that spotted the countryside. The houses he passed were half-timbered or else made of stone, and the smell of salt and fresh fish hung on the air. Cheerful voices rang through the streets as friends and family wished each other a happy new year. Though the Duchy of Brittany had been brought into the Kingdom of France almost a hundred years ago, the French language was still rarely heard this far west, where the Breton language thrived.

Flynn arrived at his new house in the heart of town with a tail of curious children. They stood in a close group, whispering among themselves as Flynn hopped down from the coach and reached into his jacket for the key to the wrought iron gate. He'd finalized the purchase of this property back in Kemper without seeing it in person, and was eager to find out if the seller had been honest in his descriptions. The whispering behind him grew louder and louder as he fiddled with the lock on the gate, and just after he opened it, he spun around with a swish of his cloak. "Boo!"

The children jumped, yelled, and laughed, and Flynn joined them in it. With a friendly grin, he said, "I'll give one sou to anyone who helps me carry bags into the house."

This kicked off a rush for his coach as children scrambled to clamber up to reach the bags stashed on the roof. "Easy!" Flynn called as one boy began trying to lift a heavy trunk. "I said the bags! Leblanc, help him, please, before he hurts himself."

Leblanc, his only other servant who'd been riding at the back, climbed to the roof and picked up the heavy trunk before it could crush the enthusiastic boy. Flynn handed him the house key and then stood back by the gate to watch him, Sodia, and the entourage of eager children begin unloading the coach. Standing by the gate, Flynn had to say he was pleased with his purchase so far. The house sat on a broad cobbled street a block away from the church, with a walled in front garden that was sure to be impressive come spring. The house itself had two storeys of mixed stone and half-timber siding, and based on the sound of yelling and running feet inside, the interior was quite spacious.

"If I help out," said a new voice that startled him, "can I get two sous, seeing as I'm twice as big as the kids and can carry more stuff?"

Flynn turned around and saw a young man leaning against the garden wall with his arms folded. He had dark, lanky hair and a cocky grin, and an intrigued expression as his eyes darted over the dark wood of the coach and Flynn's appearance. Flynn automatically drew his cloak tighter around himself, feeling as if the man was looking straight through him. "I'm afraid there isn't much more to carry in. My valet and the children have got it all."

The young man strolled toward the coach. "Really? That's all you brought? Where's all your furniture?"

"The sale of the house included furnishings."

The man gripped the handle of the coach. "Nothing else in-"

"Don't." Flynn grabbed the man's wrist a moment before he opened the door. He startled, narrowed his eyes in confusion at Flynn's deadly-serious expression, and then let go of the door.

"Oookay. Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude."

Flynn didn't release his grip until the man's arm went slack. "I apologize for startling you. It's very important that you leave the coach alone, however."

The man clearly had no idea why Flynn was making such a big deal about this, but shrugged and nodded. "Sure thing. The name's Yuri, by the way. You?"

"Flynn Scifo. I'm a merchant out of Kemper, but I've decided to move to Zaphias due to its proximity to the Channel and England," Flynn recited his rehearsed explanation.

"Oh, yeah? And what do you sell?" Yuri nudged the coach with his elbow. "Top secret illegal stuff, right?"

Flynn straightened up and frowned. "Absolutely not."

"Ha, ok. You must be brave, though, to buy this house."

Flynn's indignation turned to curiosity. "Oh? Why do you say that?" He turned his gaze to it, but didn't see anything worrying about the old grey stone or naked trees.

"Due to its horrible history, of course. Didn't you hear before buying? The previous owner went mad a couple months ago before murdering his daughter in the drawing room and then hanging himself in the master bedroom." He held up his hands to wiggle his fingers and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've heard you can still hear the daughter's wailing drifting out of an open window on quiet nights."

Flynn nodded slowly with a deadpan expression. "Yes. I see. Would this be the same previous owner I met in Kemper last week, who explained he was selling the house because his daughter recently passed away and he didn't want to stay there with all the memories? And she drowned in the sea, nowhere near the house?"

Yuri dropped his arms and shrugged. "I mean, yeah, that's another way of telling the story."

Flynn chuckled and shook his head. "I think I'll manage to avoid the ghosts."

Leblanc left the house and approached Flynn at the gate. "Sir, the children have put all your bags in your room but I told them we would take care of unpacking."

Flynn turned away from Yuri. "Very good, thank you. Please take the coach around to the back and I'll handle paying our helpful movers."

Flynn bade Yuri a polite farewell and then entered his new house. The front room had polished wooden floors and panelled walls, but he followed the sounds of giggles to find the kids around the hearth in the drawing room. One of the boys and clambered into it and stuck his head up the chimney. When his friends saw Flynn coming, they began frantically whispering, "Ted, Ted, get out of there!"

Flynn reached the hearth just as the boy - the same boy who had tried to lift the trunk - crawled out of it with soot in his hair. He cowered away from Flynn and stammered, "I - I'm sorry, sir!"

Flynn shook his head with a smile. "It's alright. It's your mother you'll have to apologize to for getting soot all over yourself. Now then, I believe I owe all of you some money?"

It took half an hour for the children to finally leave. Though Flynn was hardly a noble, he was still the wealthiest man any of them had ever spoken to, or at least, who had ever deigned to speak back to them. Flynn didn't have the heart to kick them out while they had fun exploring all the dusty rooms with him. So it wasn't until after they got bored and ran off to continue playing outside that he finally made his way to the coach house at the back and found Leblanc tending to the pair of horses.

"Everything all right with them?"

Leblanc nodded. "Yes, sir. Fit as a fiddle. I think they like their new home."

"Good. I think their owner does, too." He rubbed his nose and added, "Very dusty, though. I think I'll hire some people from town to assist Sodia in the initial cleaning. It seems far too much work to do herself."

"Good idea, sir."

"And all the children tracked snow and mud on the floors… that was my fault for allowing them, so I'll clean that up myself."

"She won't let you, sir."

Flynn reached the side of the coach. "I'll do it when she's not looking, then." Then he opened the door and revealed an interior seating area with two padded benches and dark curtains over the windows. The interior was empty, save for a bundle of fabric and a broad-brimmed hat sitting on the front bench. Flynn grabbed these, shut the door again, and returned to his new house.

Yuri had worked at Ar Kometenn since he was old enough to mop floors. Hanks had taken him in after being orphaned as a toddler, but even at a young age he'd felt compelled to do something to earn some money and not be a burden. At the age of twenty-one now, his duties had greatly expanded from mopping and now including cooking, serving, taking orders, fixing the roof, buying supplies, and anything else that needed doing at Zaphias' most popular tavern.

In the evening of January first, he sat with his feet up on the chair opposite him at a table with Rita, Karol, and Estelle. Ar Kometenn was quieter than usual because most people were at home with their families, so Yuri had enough free time to relax by the fire and enjoy the holiday himself.

"It was the weirdest thing," he was in the middle of telling his friends. "He just grabbed my wrist in a death-grip as if he was stopping me from murdering his first born or something."

Karol rolled his eyes. "Yuri, you were trying to open the door to his private coach. He probably had personal stuff in there."

"No kidding," Rita said. "I'd slap you, too, if you tried snooping in my stuff."

Karol snickered. "Yeah, Rita, but that's for our own good because your stuff might explode and kill us."

Rita, who had run Zaphias' apothecary since her parents died a few years back, just shrugged. "Well, yeah." Yuri was pretty sure that most apothecarists didn't spend so much time experimenting with ingredients in the back room after hours, and that most apothecarists didn't stock so many items that could potentially explode, but then, Rita had never been ordinary.

"I wonder what it was," Estelle said with wide eyes. "Oooh, maybe there was a girl with him, lurking in the coach! And they left Kemper to escape from her restrictive parents and ran away to be together!"

Yuri reached across the hearth to put another log on the fire. "You read too many fairy tales, Estelle. I bet it was something embarrassing. Like… ointment for ass boils."

Estelle wrinkled her nose. "I like my idea better."

"There's no way you're grossed out, Estelle," Karol said. "I heard you telling Rita about all the pus you cleaned from that wound last month."

Estelle pouted and folded her hands around her mug of cider. "I can still think it's gross even if I'm willing to put up with it for a good cause."

Rita patted her shoulder. "Anyway, you said this guy is from Kemper?"

"Yep. So, at least he's not French."

The door swung open and a gust of chilly air swept into the room. None other than Flynn himself entered the tavern and quickly forced the door shut behind him. The few other patrons sitting around glanced up at him curiously but then went back to their own food and conversation.

"Well, look who it is." Yuri rose from the table and strolled over to the new arrival. "Isn't this place a little shabby for a big-shot merchant like you?"

Flynn brushed snow off his jacket collar. "I don't employ a chef and haven't had time to stock a kitchen. I was hoping I could get some dinner here."

In all honesty, Flynn didn't seem like a bad guy. Yuri had a knee-jerk reaction to resent anyone who owned his own horse, but he'd seen Flynn interact with the kids this morning and saw no compelling reason to assume he was a bastard. "Come on, sit down with us. I'll get you something from the kitchen. What are you in the mood for?" He wrapped an arm around Flynn's shoulders and guided him to the table.

"Oh, huh, I'm not sure." Flynn frowned as he lowered himself into Yuri's vacated chair.

"Trick question; all we have tonight is mussels and galettes."

Flynn smiled a little and rolled his eyes. "A galette, then."

Yuri left Flynn with his friends and made his way to the kitchen. Galettes were easy to make without much concentration. They were basically just crepes but made with buckwheat flour instead of white. He hummed a Christmas carol to himself as he stirred the batter. The stairs creaked as he poured it into the pan and he glanced up to see Mari, the owner's daughter, coming down to check why he was heating up the kitchen again.

"Don't worry about it," Yuri told her. "It's that new guy I mention, who bought the old house by the cathedral."

Mari rubbed her bulging stomach. "He's eating here? I think we have nice porcelain plates somewhere."

Yuri considered the sparse belongings Flynn had moved in with, the money he threw at children for doing a task he could have easily accomplished himself, and Ted's excited stories about all the nooks and crannies in the big old house Flynn had let them explore. "I don't think he's like that, actually. Don't worry about it. You and the baby should get some rest."

"Ok… happy new year, Yuri."

"Happy new year." Yuri enjoyed working at Ar Kometenn. Yuri had known the Lagadeg family since he was small, back when he and Mari used to play together. Yuri considered a good portion of the residents of Zaphias to be his adoptive family, but Mr. and Mrs. Lagadeg featured higher on the list of importance than most.

As he finished cooking, he set the bowl on the floor and whistled. Repede, the dog he'd taken in as a stray puppy several years back, hurried out of his nap in the shadows to lick the batter from the bowl. Yuri scratched him between the ears before carrying the plate back to the table. He found Flynn engaged in conversation with Estelle and Karol, telling them about Kemper. That city was on the other side of Brittany, but neither of them had ever been beyond the range of their parish so it might as well be as exotic as Spain. Rita, who had gone as far as Saint-Malo to trade goods for the apothecary, tried to look like she wasn't interested.

Yuri clattered the plate in front of Flynn. "Enjoy. Pay me later. Also, you stole my seat."

"I apologize!" Flynn started to rise, but Yuri pushed down on his shoulder and sat on the heart instead.

"Don't worry about it. So, Flynn, we were talking about you earlier."

Estelle gave Yuri a mortified look that he would bring this up, but Yuri charged ahead at Flynn's raised eyebrows.

"Just what were you carrying in that coach, anyway? My theory is a dead body. It's a dead body, right?"

Flynn dropped his fork and quickly swallowed. "W-what kind of person do you take me for?!"

Rita snorted and rolled her eyes. "Real subtle, Yuri. You should go join the Spanish Inquisition."

Flynn frowned and cut a piece of his galette with delicacy, so as not to wield his knife in the fashion of a murderer. "It was absolutely not a dead body. I don't know why you're making so big a deal over this. I had private, personal items being carried in the interior that I didn't want bandied about on the street. Does that satisfy you?"

It didn't, but only because Yuri remembered the ferocity of Flynn's glare this afternoon and the strength of his grip on Yuri's wrist. That was hardly a reaction to something as simple as concealing one's underwear, and besides, there had been hardly anyone else on the street at the time. Whatever it was, therefore, needed to be even more embarrassing than that and Yuri wondered if Flynn had been carrying amusing contraptions of a sexual nature or something of that sort.

"See, Yuri?" Estelle said. "Flynn has never killed anybody."

The way Flynn's eyes shot to Estelle and then immediately back to his supper to take a hasty bite caused everyone to look at him.

Estelle hesitated. "Er… you haven't, have you?"

Flynn finished chewing slowly to give himself time to gather his thoughts and what to say. From his few interactions with him, Yuri had already concluded that Flynn was a bad liar and no doubt fretting over what to say, since he couldn't easily shake it off with a lie.

"That… is not entirely true," Flynn said. "I used to be a soldier."

"Oh, that's ok, then." Karol, who had been looking very frightened after Flynn confirmed he'd killed someone, relaxed with the rest of the story. "I mean, killing people is never good, but it's different to kill soldiers on the battlefield."

"Makes you less of a dangerous maniac, sure," Rita said.

"I still think it's sad." Estelle gazed mournfully into her cider.

Flynn nodded slowly. "It is sad. It's strange, isn't it, that we think it's more reassuring that a man is able to kill total strangers purely due to orders, than that a man might kill someone he has a personal grudge with?"

"I'm not so sure." Yuri poked the fire with a stick as he spoke. "In the middle of a battle, you're all trying to kill each other so it could be considered self-defence. Killing your neighbours, though? People you've known all your life? That's screwed up."

They sat in silence, mulling over the gruesome topic until Karol tried to push it onward. "So, where did you fight? Were you in any major battles?"

"Italy. I would prefer not going into too much detail, if you don't mind."

Karol leaned back in his chair sheepishly. "Oh, right, of course. Sorry about that."

As the conversation continued, Yuri started putting together the pieces of what kind of man Flynn seemed to be. He had to admit, he'd met far worse rich merchants.

The next day was Sunday, which meant Yuri spent the morning in church more because that was just what people did than out of any earnest devotion. As far as he was concerned, any god that may or may not exist ought to do something to prove He gave a rat's ass about the world before Yuri got on his knees for Him. Almost thirty years ago, the wars between Catholics and Protestants that had ravaged France for most of the sixteenth century had ended - ostensibly - in peace and toleration. However, that didn't meant that Yuri's life in this specific part of Brittany wouldn't be made considerably more difficult if he didn't put on a show of being a good Catholic.

When mass was over, Yuri met Repede in the square out front. Mass would be so much more bearable if dogs were allowed inside, Yuri had always thought. This afternoon, Karol would be home with his family, Estelle would be busy making rounds to the handful of pregnant women to check on their health, and Rita had to manage her shop, so he didn't bother waiting around for them to exit and just rounded the building to avoid the crowd spilling out and knelt to give Repede some attention. The grey paving stones around Zaphias' central square only had a sparse dusting of snow around the corners and cracks. The stone still sent a chill through his pant leg and into his knees, but it was bearable. After all, Repede had waited for him outside in it all morning.

Yuri had been happily focusing on his dog and little else when he overheard someone say, "…Flynn Scifo, did you say?"

Yuri had spotted Flynn sitting near the back at mass this morning, but that was hardly time to make enough impression on the populace to be the subject of gossip. Around a stone pillar built into the side of the church, he spotted Magistrate Ragou in conversation with Lord Alexei, who lived in the chateau just outside of town.

"That's correct, my lord," Ragou said. "From Kemper."

"Hm…." Alexei folded his hands behind his back and turned his gaze to the street leading away from the square upon which Flynn lived. "What do you know of him?"

Alexei spoke Breton with a French accent. His family had begun speaking French after the duchy was absorbed into France, presumably to further their chances of making a good impression on the king or other high-ranking nobles. Yuri didn't pay enough attention to courtly intrigue to know if it had worked, but it did mean that the Dinoias had always been seen as outsiders, even though they'd owned the land for centuries. For his part, though, Alexei was all right. Yuri had only been a kid when Alexei inherited the title and estate from his father, but the older generations tended to speak highly of him. He was different, a lot of them said - he hadn't forgotten that he was Breton before he was French. Hanks said it was because Alexei was a younger son, and not raised from birth to feel entitled to everything. Then his older brother had died in the religious wars, but the humility from being a second son remained.

"Very little, sir," Ragou was saying. "His financial records and travel documents checked out when he purchased the house, though they were unusually sparse. He seems to have very little recorded involvement in the world, other than a military record."

"Did he give any details about his military history?"

Yuri slowed his petting of Repede to pay more attention to the conversation. He had his own questions about Flynn's past, but why Lord Alexei of all people would care about him baffled Yuri.

"Briefly, briefly." Ragou fiddled with the furred collar of his shirt and shivered in the cold. His pale cheeks were pink from the chill. "He claimed to have done his service in the Italian region. I asked if he meant the 1625 conflict in Genoa and he confirmed."

"Interesting. And how did a simple soldier come into the wealth to purchase that house?"

"His financial statement listed a benefactor called Niren. Apparently, he inherited this Niren's business upon his passing."

"I see. Thank you."

"You!" Ragou had suddenly noticed Yuri crouching by the wall and listening. "Street wretch, what are you doing?"

"I dropped my wallet." Yuri didn't even bother pretending to shove a wallet into his shirt.

Ragou snorted. "As if filth like you even has a wallet. Move on before I summon guards to move you."

"Yeah, I'm tired of listening to you anyway. C'mon, Repede."

Yuri made his way back to Ar Kometenn, mulling over Flynn all the way. The only conclusion he'd reached by the time he made it back was that Flynn was a weird guy, but he seemed to be an alright guy nonetheless. They'd chatted for hours last night and he'd gotten along great with Estelle, Rita, and Karol, and even Repede seemed to like him. If Ragou didn't like him, that was even more of a reason to think he was fine, because Ragou reminded Yuri of slimy things found under rocks in tide pools.

Back in the kitchen, he set to work preparing for the evening dinner rush. Almost an hour later, the Lagadegs arrived home. They'd been held up socializing after church and then walking slowly thanks to Mari's pronounced pregnancy. Mr. Lagadeg met Yuri in the kitchen.

"Looks like you've been working hard."

Yuri glanced at his pile of peeled potatoes and shrugged. "Just trying to get it done."

"I was wondering if you could take on another job for me."

"Ha. Does that mean you're going to pay me more?"

Mr. Lagadeg grinned. "Let's work that out after I see if you even do a good job. I'd have Mari do this normally, but she shouldn't be doing any work right now and soon enough she'll have the baby to take care of. But anyway, you know that rich bloke that just moved in? Flynn Something-or-Other?"

Yuri nodded without looking up from the potato he was peeling. "I've seen him around."

"He talked to me after mass today about arranging for meal deliveries. He doesn't have a chef on staff, so he was hoping we could cater his meals and deliver them to his dining room."

"And let me guess: you want me to be the delivery boy?"

"It would be a real help. He's paying quite handsomely, and hired several of Mari's friends to help tidy up the place, too. If he's going to move in and start throwing money around, I'm happy to catch as much of it as I can."

"Heh. Yeah, no problem, it's not that far away." Besides, it might be interesting to have an excuse to go inside Flynn's house and try to find out a little more about him.