Chapter 10: The Starboy and The Wild African

“M’lord… why are we just standing here?”

Enel stood in front of the tavern with his arms crossed, staring at the swinging wooden sign above the door. It had a fish painted on it. At least, Enel believed it was a fish—today was the first day he'd ever seen one in person, after all.

“I am observing,” Enel said.

Tiny, the thief, looked at him, then at the tavern door. “You are observing… the door, M’lord?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the soldiers of the duke might be inside.”

“Then shouldn’t we go inside?”

Enel’s eyes lowered to him. “I am not of age.”

Tiny stared at him, his mouth slightly open. He was about to barge inside, but the tavern door almost hit him. But what did hit them both was the smell of ale, smoke, and sweat—no. It wasn't coming from inside the tavern, but from the man who stepped outside.

He had large shoulders, and although he seemed lean, his arms were even thicker than Gregor's. His clothes were simple, and a sword clumsily hung from his waist. And by the cheap insignia hanging from his chatelaine, he was a low-rank Adventurer.

The man took three steps forward, then bumped straight into Enel.

Or rather, he tried.

“Gkh—?” The man bounced back, blinking down at Enel's blinding golden hair.

Enel looked up at him. “My apologies.”

The drunk man squinted. “What even...”

Tiny covered his mouth from the foul smell coming from the drunk's mouth, but Enel didn't even blink.

"Good sir," he nodded. "May I ask if the soldiers of the duke are still inside?"

“Huh?” The man rubbed his nose, then glanced back at the tavern. “Soldiers? No. Left hours ago.”

“All of them?”

“Most. Some might still be by the caravan, but I doubt it," the man said, shaking his head. "Those men don't rest.”

Enel immediately turned to Tiny. “Then we should go to the caravan now.”

“Caravan?” The drunk man suddenly perked up. “You going to the war caravan?”

“Yes,” Enel said.

“You joining the war?” The man squinted.

"I have a different quest, but yes. My journey is to the war, sir."

"You're a lord," the man said, gazing down at the washed-out house symbol on Enel's armor. "This war is for the common folk."

"I am of commonfolk." Enel's head tilted.

"You're a noble. A pretty one at that, almost a woman."

"All are common under the gods, sir."

"Huh... I like that." The man looked at Enel's face. He looked away for a moment as he might throw up, but collected himself... or his vomit. "I'm going to the caravan, too. Let's go."

"Pft." Tiny looked him up and down, then laughed. “You? They won’t let a drunk man join the war.”

The man laughed even louder. “Lad. They’ll take anyone.”

He pushed himself between the two.

“Old men, young men, desperate men, stupid men. Especially stupid men. War loves stupid men," he said while glancing back at Enel. "You sure you're joining?"

“Yes.”

The drunk man shrugged. “Then what are we waiting for? Come on. You and your squire can follow me.”

Tiny pointed at himself. “Squire?”

“He is not my squire. He is only a th—”

“A squire!” Tiny quickly said, standing straighter. “Yes. I am squire to the beautiful knight.”

Enel paused, looking down at Tiny for a moment. But soon enough, his posture changed slightly. Not much, but enough. “I am not a knight yet.”

“Doesn't matter. If we're going, we're going." He stepped forward while looking at Enel, completely oblivious of the cart rolling straight toward him.

"M-move! Move aside!" The horses pulling it neighed, their hooves striking hard against the stones as the driver screamed from the coach. “Damn beasts! Stop!"

The drunk man turned, and all the drink seemed to leave his face at once. His eyes widened, and he raised two fingers while his lips parted.

[Sovereign, Has—] He began writing in the air, but the symbols had only just started forming when the horses were already upon him. The only thing he could do to brace for the impact was grit his teeth—but his lips once again parted as Enel suddenly appeared right in front of him.

His hand reached out, gently touching one horse by the neck and the other by the side of its head. He did not grab them, he did not shove them. He guided them. This time, making sure not to even exert any force at all.

The horses screamed, but their bodies only moved to the side.

The cart they were pulling, however, continued forward to Enel. He didn't even bother moving, only turning his head down as the cart struck... and it violently cracked upon meeting him.

The wood burst around him, even the splinters flying toward his eyes shattered. The front completely broke apart, and the wheels snapped free before the entire thing toppled to the side. Enel watched as its contents flew everywhere, clattering against the stones like a rain of iron.

Helmets. Greaves. Broken swords. Dented shields. Mail torn open in places—most of them painted with... dried blood.

One helmet rolled to Enel’s feet, and there was still hair and scalp crossed between the rims. Everyone nearby gasped, scampering away from all the damage.

The drunk man sat on the ground, completely sober now. He stared up at Enel, his mouth open. The young noble’s red cape settled behind him, and his golden hair had fallen over one shoulder, glowing beneath the sun. His blue eyes seemed even brighter for the drunk man now.

As for the driver of the cart, he stumbled down from what remained of his seat, almost unscathed.

“Gods! Gods, forgive me! I did not see—" He hurried to rush at Enel. But as soon as he saw what he looked like, he immediately fell to his knees.

“M’lord!" he begged. "M'lord. Mercy! Please, mercy! I did not mean to strike you! The horse panicked, and the road was crowded, and I—please, M’lord!”

Enel did not answer him.

He crouched, causing the cart owner to flinch and lower his head even further. But Enel only picked up the fallen helmet and placed it gently to the side of the road. Then he returned, picking up a greave this time, then a cracked shield—placing them all to the side of the road.

Tiny stared at him for a moment before rushing forward and joining him.

The drunk man slowly stood. He looked at the armor scattered next to him, then at Enel, then quietly picked up the armor and carried it to the side.

That was all it took.

Because once a noble began cleaning the road, and a thief and drunkard joined him, everyone else seemed to realize that standing still would look very bad. A vendor hurried over. Then a guard. Then two women carrying baskets. Then several men who had been pretending not to stare.

In less than a minute, half the street was helping clear the wreckage.

The cart owner kept bowing while gathering the broken wood, his face pale enough that he looked even whiter than Enel.

“I will pay for the damages,” Enel said.

“M’lord?” The cart owner looked up, horrified. “No! No, absolutely not. It was my fault! This humble fool nearly harmed your lordship!”

“You did not harm me.”

“Please, M'lord! No!"

Enel looked confused by that, but did not argue. Soon, the road was cleared. The broken cart was dragged aside, the horses calmed, and the equipment stacked neatly against a wall.

The cart owner bowed again and again. “Thank you, M’lord. Thank you. May the Sovereign keep your house standing.”

"He has. But..." Enel held a bloodied gauntlet in both hands. “Where did these come from?”

The cart owner’s mouth closed. He glanced at Tiny, then at the drunk man, then back to Enel.

“From the war, M’lord?”

“I see.” Enel looked at the armor pile. “And where are the men who wore them?”

The cart owner blinked. “M’lord?”

“The men,” Enel repeated. “The armor belonged to men and women, yes? Where are they?”

"They're..." His eyes moved to the gauntlet in Enel’s hand. “Dead, M’lord.”

Enel looked at all the equipment on the side. “There are many. Where... are their bodies?”

"At... the battlefield, M'lord?"

"They were left there...?" Enel squinted. "But we need to honor our—"

"There's no time for that, M'lord." The previously drunk man stepped closer, his earlier slouch completely gone. “The war is ending.”

Enel turned to him.

The man’s eyes were clearer now. Tired, maybe, but clear.

"Lord Commander Duncan is desperate to end the war early," he said. "That means one last push against the barbarians of the north. And that means more to sell to looters."

The cart owner lowered his head. “I only gather what is left, M’lord! Clean it. Mend what can be mended. Sell it to those who still need steel.”

"It is fine." Enel handed the gauntlet to the cart owner. "You may go."

The cart owner bowed so low his forehead almost hit the ground again.

“Yes, M’lord. Thank you, M’lord.” He left quickly, arranging everything himself now that Enel had stopped moving. Enel watched him scamper before turning to Ulf and Tiny.

The drunk man clicked his tongue. “Ulf.”

"Ulf?"

“That’s my name. Ulf of the east.”

“I am Enel,” Enel said. “From…”

He paused, then looked up at the sky. After a moment, Enel looked around and nodded to himself. “Enel from the Southwest.”

Ulf stared at him. Then his eyes moved to the old armor Enel wore, to the scratched insignia of the deer with trees for horns.

“Widow’s Wall,” Ulf said.

Tiny immediately started shaking his head. Waving his arms for Ulf to stop, but the man didn't see him.

Enel’s eyes widened slightly. “You know of Widow’s Wall?”

“Been there,” Ulf said. “Long ago.”

“You have?”

“Aye. Common folk smiled there despite their suffering.” Ulf rubbed the back of his neck. “Extremely poor compared to the other frontier houses guarding a Veil.”

"Extremely... poor." Enel looked down.

"But with a lord like you, it was no wonder they—"

"O-oy!" Tiny quickly stepped between them. “The caravan! M’lord, the caravan might leave if we don’t hurry!”

"Hm." Enel remained still for a moment longer before nodding. “Yes. Let us go.”

---

The caravan was gathered near the far side of Riverdown. Most of the lively people were no longer there, and what was left was a road lined with carts, horses, crates, barrels, and... all sorts of kin.

But one look at them, even someone like Enel knew that none of them were warriors.

Enel looked around immediately, searching for the duke’s soldiers. But the only one wearing armor there was him.

A man with a thin mustache approached them, adjusting his coat as he walked. His eyes flicked to Enel’s armor, then to his hair, then back to his armor again.

His posture changed immediately.

“My lord.” He bowed his head. “How may I be of service?”

“Good sir. Where are the soldiers?” Enel asked.

“The soldiers, my lord?”

“The soldiers of Duke Gawen.”

“Ah.” The man smiled carefully. “They have already departed, my lord. My name is Erik of House Fakner."

"Pft..." Tiny snorted at the name, but quickly clasped his mouth when he saw Erik glanced at him.

"They have left me here to handle affairs, lord...?"

"Enel of House Blackwood."

"Blackwood... Widow's Wall?" Erik blinked, glancing at the insignia on Enel's armor. His shoulders relaxed for a moment, his smile slightly fading as he looked Enel in the eyes. "What can I do for you, sir? Did you need something for the duke's soldiers?"

"No." Enel's hand tightened, and both Tiny and Ulf noticed this. "I am here to join the war effort, if momentarily."

“You are… here to join?"

“Yes.”

"The war?"

"Yes, if but for a moment. As I said."

“My apologies, sir, but do you have a letter from your house? Or perhaps a seal from Lord Blackwood?"

"I—"

"No need for all that, friend."

Before Enel could say anything else, Ulf moved beside Erik and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, turning him away. Both Enel and Tiny tilted their head to see what he was doing, and they saw Ulf handing a pouch to the man. He whispered something else to him, but they couldn't hear what it was at all.

The next thing they knew, Erik had a smile on his face and shaking Ulf's hand.

"Of course, of course." Erik nodded as he faced Enel. "If the young lord wishes to support the kingdom, who am I to stand in the way of duty? I will have your place arranged, Sir. There is a cart with plenty of space."

Enel watched Erik disappear, motioning to the people there to start boarding the carts.

"Ulf. Did I just see you bribe that man?" Enel squinted.

"No—I merely encouraged him, M'lord," Ulf said, waving him off.

"With coin?"

"Wyns are already encouraging, M'lord—the face of our first king still has an effect on people."

Enel's eyes narrowed, but Ulf completely ignored him and pointed toward one of the carts near the back of the caravan.

"We should be fine there. Quickly now, M'lord." Ulf bowed his head, then started heading to the cart.

Enel hesitated at first, but nodded in the end. He was about to follow Ulf, but turned to Tiny first.

"Tiny."

"Yes, M'lord?" The boy straightened, watching as Enel reached into his pouch and handed him several coins.

"Your payment for guiding me through the confusing streets of Riverdown," Enel said. "You have done your service well. Now, go surrender yourself to the guards and accept your punishment for stealing."

"Uh..." Tiny looked at the coins in his palm. Then at the caravan, then back at Enel. “...I think I’ll come with you.”

Enel blinked. “No. Your service is no longer required, Tiny. Make haste now, your punishment will be worse."

"I will join the war efforts and serve as your squire, M'lord." Tiny bowed his head.

"I am not a knight."

"But you will be, M'lord—I know it." Tiny glanced up, staring into Enel's blue eyes. "You will be a Hero Knight. I know it. Please, M'lord."

"Hm..." Enel placed a hand on his chin, imitating his father's mannerisms. "Very well. You may accompany me."

"Yes!" Tiny's eyes brightened.

"But when we return," Enel added, "you must still surrender yourself."

"...You jest, M'lord."

"No."

---

At the same time, back in Widow's Wall.

[Urtmother, Fir!]

Mira moved through the field, grabbing the floating words she just wrote in the air and slapping it onto her axe. The axe burst into flames, cleaving through a vemon—a creature of the Veil.

The vemon looked like a bear, but its eyes were hollow and dried roots protruded from its flesh. Mira's axe cleaved through another, a smaller vemon resembling a hare... if a hare was as large as a boar and had sharp roots as fur.

Both vemons burst into flames while Mira skidded across the ground, spinning her axe on her side before waving it to the side. And as she stood up, both the flames and the axe disappeared.

Her head snapped to the side, and Lamb was there. On top of a vemon bear, stabbing its neck repeatedly.

"It is already dead, Lamb. Stop."

"Yes!" Lamb jumped from the vemon, wiping the sword she received from Enel clean from the monster's fur before she moved to Mira's side.

She removed her bandana, her brown hair falling to her sides as she wiped her sweat with it. She then glanced toward the gate of Widow's Wall, where the townspeople were moving the vemon corpses.

"Nine," Mira whispered. "This makes it nine just today."

She looked at the Dark Forest where the vemons crawled out from.

"Why... now, when we need to get to my son?"

"Enel will be fine, Lady Blackwood," Lamb said as she slipped her bandana into collar. "How... did I do?"

"You..." Mira looked back at the corpse of the vemon Lamb killed. "You did well—much stronger than I was at your age. Are you not... scared?"

"Scared...?" Lamb snorted, but quickly stood up straight. "These monsters are nothing compared to Enel, Lady Blackwood."

"You're... right."

"I thought they would be scarier, since I have seen drawings of them in Enel's books." Lamb nodded. "But these things probably started appearing again because that monster is gone. R-respectfully, Your Ladyship."

"What?" Mira blinked at her words.

"I... meant no disrespect with my words."

"No." Mira waved her off. "Do you think... they started moving again because Enel is gone?"

"Well... the wild animals are scared of Enel, Lady Blackwood."