There was more reason for Fantine to helping Valjean than just feeling sorry for him. Afterwards she took him to a tavern and questioned him about the chain gang members. It was just like she'd estimated. Old Sparke was simply a worker at his uncle's inn, and possibly was being cheated constantly by the innkeeper; Faernand was a member of the slums, working odd jobs day and night. Valjean's father...
Valjean gave a rather brief account of his father. The old guy used to own an hourglass factory, but it closed down and he's moved city to city with Valjean since then, conditions getting worse and worse with every move. "But I know he would never steal," Valjean insisted. "We're not that desperate yet."
Fantine took a sip of good beer from her mug. "Then it's strange."
"What is?"
"They're all low class shrimps, Sparke, Faernand and your dad. Why would the Prince send them to their death? It's not like he would be likely to hold a grudge against lower class people."
Valjean shrugged. "I don't know, but it's wrong. Maybe they knew something about the Prince? My father said once that high classed people are always snooping for each other's dirty secrets."
"Good thought, but like dude, the Prince must've been real stupid to have let three lower class men gain knowledge of his secret over the past couple of days. No, I don't think that'd work..."
"What if the Prince is just egotistical and likes to send random people to death?"
"That's even less likely. If he wants to send random people to die, he would've just ordered his soldiers to kill people. He wouldn't send people like Artemis and Apollodorous all the way through the desert just to drown three guys. Why does he drown them?"
"More beer, pretty lady?" Smiled the jolly fat bartender from behind his station.
"Thank y- buuuuuuurp! Ahhhhh, that was a good one!" Fantine was glowing when she saw her mug full once more with glorious beer.
"Is it okay for you to drink so much?"
"Don't get jealous, kid, just 'cause you're underage and can't drink...ahhhhh, I love beer! Anyway, what time is it?"
Valjean looked out the window. "The sun is almost setting."
Fantine gave another sickening burp. "Errrr, well, we better get going? Thaaaaaank you, dear bartender."
The bartender grinned like a fool. "Anytime, pretty lady," he replied.
Valjean was glad they were going; he really didn't like the thick tension of the tavern or the boisterous noise, and it looks like some guys are actually getting pretty drunk. But Fantine suddenly changed her mind. "Hey bartender," she called out, in a soprano voice. "I got a few questions for ya. Does anything really weird happen in the town?"
The bartender rolled his eyes. "Isn't this tavern weird enough?"
Three men were dancing on tables while trying to balance jugs of wine on their nose.
"No," replied Fantine. "This is not weird at all."
"Well, nothing exceptionally weird happens in Porthos...except sometimes in summer, we get heaps of snow; odd, since we're in a desert...or the time a fuck nut got drunk and got on his flying mobile and threw down a tantrum of empty beer bottles and everyone thought it was a hailstorm."
"Did the drunk guy get caught?" Asked Valjean.
"No, 'cause he crashed into a chicken house, set it on fire and kind of burned himself to death. Oh wait! Wait, no."
"What is it?" Pressed Fantine.
"Er, well it's not exceptionally weird...but, you know, lately, at night, sometimes you hear this metallic noise coming from the underground." The bartender shrugged as he cleaned another glass. "Felt like the blacksmith is staying up too late. I don't know, a lot of people claims they've heard it at night, but you never know with these things."
Fantine's brows tightened. "Thank you, that was very helpful," she lied. "Come on, Valjean, we better hurry up."
Once they got out of the hot tavern and a blast of fresh, night wind hit Valjean in the face, and felt better. "Where are we going?"
"We're getting out of the city."
"What?"
Valjean stopped dead in his tracks. "You can't be serious! We risked our lives to get out of the desert and now we're getting into it again?"
"Well, too bad. Just think of it like you're moving with your father again, alright? Can't be that bad."
"When my father and I moved, we had a carriage. Besides, my father's- hey!"
Fantine was already turning to the broad main street. "Suit yourself. I've got to-"
Just then, carriage was coming up in the streets, and even though Fantine was right in front of it, it did not slow down; in fact the horseman whipped the horse even harder, so the carriage accelerated.
"Watch out!"
Before the words even came out of Valjean's mouth, it whizzed by, and Fantine had jumped out of its way and safely landed in a curb. If she was one second too late, it would've hit her.
The carriage drove off into the twilight-ish city.
"Holy- holy shit," Fantine panted, her chest heaving up and down, still recovering from the unexpected ambush. "The hell was that?"
"I...I don't know," stammered Valjean, and he, too, was dazed.
Fantine calmed down a bit. "Whatever it is, it's not gonna miss again."
"What do you- wait, don't tell me YOU'RE being targeted too?"
Fantine nodded. "Well, that does it. I'm definitely not staying in the city tonight. Hey, you coming with me or what?"
Looking at Fantine, mixed feelings tumbled in Valjean's heart. He was really not up for following Fantine out into the dangerous desert, not after everything that happened. But, he couldn't help wonder: what exactly is this woman thinking?
Seeing that Valjean is hesitating, Fantine shrugged: "Alrighty then, looks like its gonna be a one-man journey tonight." She started heading for the city gates once more.
"Hey- hey!" Valjean suddenly shouted, and hopped after her. "Don't leave me alone out here! At least tell me where we're going? Hey, slow down!"