Chapter 11: The Starboy And the Feralfolk

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“M’lord… how long is this road?”

“As long as it needs to be, Tiny.”

Enel answered Tiny's question vaguely. But in truth, he too was getting impatient... and it had only been a few hours since they left Riverdown.

"Ack!"

Fortunately for the young lord, the caravan offered a small hint of entertainment. He laughed softly as the cart hit another stone on the road, causing Tiny to jump from his seat and land right back down with a pained grunt.

The road they traveled on was rough, uneven, and covered with old roots. Tall trees stood on both sides, spaced apart enough for light to pass through, but not enough to make the woods feel... welcoming. Every now and then, the cart would hit another stone, and Tiny would rise half an inch from his seat before falling back down again.

“Your balance is not very good for a thief,” Enel said.

Tiny immediately turned to him. “I am not a thief, M’lord.”

"Ha!" Ulf, who sat across from them with one leg hanging out of the cart, laughed loud enough that some of the other people riding with them glanced his way. "You are a thief because you got caught, short."

"That doesn't make sense." Tiny squinted at him. "And it's Tiny."

"Woah." Ulf sat up straight, raising his pinkie. "No one is talking about your little birdie down there."

"Ah!" Tiny pointed at him. "You're tiny! Your—"

Before Tiny could even retort, the cart hit another rock.

"Ack!" He groaned loudly. "How do people travel like this? My arse hurts, my legs hurt, my mouth is dry, and I think the road is trying to kill me. It—Kh!"

He raised his voice, only for his chapped lips to split apart. Ulf winced at this, then reached for the waterskin at his side. He tossed it to Tiny, who almost failed to catch it.

“Wet your lips before they crack more," he said. "I've seen bigger men die from that."

"What?" Enel's eyes widened at that.

Tiny did the same while staring at the waterskin for a moment, then quickly drank.

He didn't drink much, and focused more on wetting his lips. After that, he handed the waterskin back to Ulf without wiping his mouth.

Ulf took it, then offered it to Enel, only for him to shake his head.

“I am not thirsty. Save it for those who need it.”

"Huh." Ulf’s hand remained there for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth lifted. “You really are unlike any noble I’ve ever met.”

Enel blinked. “You have met many nobles?”

“Enough.”

“And all of them were different from me?”

“Most were pompous little brats who thought the gods carved the world for their feet.”

Tiny nodded as if he understood perfectly, causing Ulf to point the waterskin at Enel.

“You, on the other hand, quite different. I've barely met you, and you already saved my life, cleaned a street, paid a thief, joined a war, and somehow haven’t complained once about riding with us common folks in a cart that smells like shit.”

“It smells like... shit?” Enel looked around.

Tiny started sniffing around, and when he reached close to Ulf's feet, his face instantly twisted in pain.

Enel, on the other hand, was still looking around.

"I have not noticed," he said.

Ulf laughed. “See? Any other noble would have demanded a horse, a tent, servants, maybe even a bard.”

Enel’s brows lowered slightly. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would a noble do that?” Enel tilted his head. “A noble’s duty is to serve and protect those beneath his banner. I serve the people—that is my duty.”

Enel said that without stuttering, not even a single breath of hesitation. For a few moments, Ulf said nothing... then let out the loudest laughter he could.

Several people riding with them turned to glare at him. Unfortunately for them, he was a noble's companion. The only thing they could do was look away.

“Gods,” Ulf said, wiping the corner of his eye. “You are so naive. I like it. The heir of Widow's Wall... I didn't even know they had one.”

And while Ulf was amused, Tiny had been nodding his head at Enel's words.

"Tiny?" Enel noticed him nodding on his own. "What are you doing?"

"I'm learning how to be like you, M'lord."

"You should learn not to steal first."

"Pft." Ulf laughed again.

Tiny was about to point at him, but his eyes moved to the cheap insignia hanging from Ulf’s chatelaine. It bounced lightly with the cart, scratched and old, but still visible.

“You’re an Adventurer, right?”

“Was,” Ulf said.

Tiny leaned forward. “What rank?”

“Not enough to be important," he said while wagging his chatelaine.

"But still an Adventurer." Tiny frowned. “Why are you joining the war?”

"That is the question." The smile on Ulf's face thinned and his eyes looked toward the trees. His thumb started rubbing against the badge. “I joined the war to silence the voices screaming inside my head."

"Oh..." Tiny blinked. "You're a half-wit."

"Half-wi—boy!" Ulf glared at Tiny. "I'll put a clout on your ear. How do you even know these words?"

"Because I'm not a half-wit."

"You..."

Enel watched as the two kept exchanging words back and forth. The caravan continued on like this—only silent for a while before someone or something else makes a noise.

The wheels would creak, the horses snorted, and someone on another cart would cough. Every so often, branches scratched along the side of the carts and leaves fell into people’s hair.

Enel looked at the woods, enjoying watching the spirits as they walked without care of anything. But all of a sudden, they all hid and merged with the earth as a scream cut through the trees.

Enel's head snapped toward the noise.

The people on the cart froze. Some also looked toward the trees, but most immediately looked away.

And the caravan... did not stop.

Enel stood, and Tiny grabbed the side of the cart as it dipped from the sudden movement.

“M’lord?”

"A coach," Enel whispered.

There was a broken coach between the trees up ahead. One wheel had been torn away, the door hung open, and the side was scratched with long claw marks. There was blood on the ground, too—and from their color, they were fresh.

Ulf saw it too. His jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath.

“Feralfolk."

“Feralfolk?” Enel asked.

“Yes." Ulf sighed. "Attacks are common around here. The wilderkin probably probably smelled food. It—"

Another scream came, louder this time.

Enel looked toward the front of the caravan. “Why are we not stopping?”

Ulf turned to him. “Because it isn’t our responsibility.”

"What?" Enel stared at him.

Ulf stared back, then sighed. “Screams on the road can be bait. Bandits use them. Feralfolk too, sometimes. You stop a caravan for every cry in the woods, you end up feeding the woods. It—”

Another scream came. This time, Enel said nothing else and simply stepped off the cart—no. He leapt. Hard enough the entire cart shook and almost toppled as he vanished into the trees.

"Gods!" Ulf screamed, grasping the edges of the cart tightly. Ulf stared at the trees, their leaves forming a whirl from his path. He then turned to look at Tiny, who was also holding on for dear life. "Is he always like that?!"

"I don't know... I only met him today!"

Ulf groaned, then jumped off the cart.

“Stop the caravan!” he shouted.

“Stop the damn caravan! Lord Blackwood went into the woods!”

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Leaves exploded beneath Enel’s feet as he ran through the woods. The forest blurred around him. Branches as thick as arms struck his face as he went, but they broke like the dried leaves that scattered beneath.

His eyes snapped to the first body he saw—but he didn't stop as the body was already mangled in half. He continued on, and as another scream cried through the woods, everything around him rippled away.

And soon, the trees opened into a small clearing where another coach had been dragged from the road. One guard sat near the wheel, while another was swinging his sword to protect the people behind him.

And around them... were the feralfolk. More than a dozen of them.

Some stood on four limbs, their backs arched and shoulders too high. Others stood on two, but hunched so low their hands dragged across the ground. Their bodies were covered in thick, matted fur, and their faces almost resembled the kaniin. Almost.

Their solid black eyes held no humanity in them, only hunger.

Enel focused his attention back to the people. There was a woman, pushing a bloodied cloth to another man's side. A younger man held a small knife, trembling so hard the ground beneath him caved. An older gentleman in silk stood almost beside the guard, brandishing his cane.

Enel drew his sword while running. He did not stop. He passed by the feralfolk in his path, and his blade passed through it.

The feralfolk split apart from shoulder to hip without any resistance at all, both halves falling separately. Only when parts of the beast dropped to the ground did everyone notice Enel.

Enel stopped between the feralfolk and the coach, his red cape snapping loudly in the air when he did so. He pointed his sword at the beasts, and the feralfolks all turned and stared at him.

And he stared back.

One of them opened its mouth, revealing fangs so uneven and rotten. The others did the same, seemingly trying to intimidate him. Their intimidation didn't last long, however, as Enel vanished from where he stood.

He appeared beside the closest to him, then planted his fist straight through the beast's opened mouth. He shattered its teeth, then tore open the back of its neck.

He threw the body aside before it even finished twitching.

The feralfolk instantly closed their mouths. And for a moment, nothing moved... until all of them scampered away.

Enel didn't pursue and only watched them, only turning away when the last of them disappeared deeper into the woods.

"You may breathe now," he said to them. "You are safe."

And the people could only stare.

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