SneakyFrog
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CHAPTER 16 A Minor Concession
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 13:51:20 +0000 UTCDarryl kept inspecting the knights until Brenn approached him.
“How are they? Any good?” His commander eyed him. The old man had always been an enigma. A former legend - retired - settling down in a rundown village on the frontier?
Darryl scoffed, slouching after having to witness the whole thing. “They one-sidedly slaughtered most monsters... But the predator ran after taking some damage.”
The young nobles reminded Darryl of the shitstain he once killed, but he kept that to himself. He could hear Brenn clenching his teeth.
“Would you be willing to help us track it? We could use your… talents.” The weary commander said.
“Nah, don’t push it, old man. I ain’t risking my life for…” He motioned his eyes across Grainwick. “This.”
Brenn sighed. Darryl hesitated slightly, but this wasn’t part of the deal. A silence covered the gates until the knights grew bored of stabbing at shadows and returned.
The order returned to the village, to regroup and rest before the next wave inevitably came. Their armor was stained with blood and dirt.
Sir Viel barked orders, his tone clipped and irritated.
The knight approached Brenn. “It’s not going to fight to death, is it?” he muttered to him, his tone tired. “You warned us of its intelligence, and the lords still gave me no monster hunters to bring.”
Darryl stared at the veteran commander. No trackers to hunt a unique?
That was beyond careless. But he still didn’t offer to help. Not my problem.
Brenn nodded grimly. “Are you still sure you can find it quickly and get going?” The old men looked at one another.
“Let's hope, for both our sakes, we can get lucky.” Viel said and a silence settled in. Full of cold resignation.
Bitterly, he added “I wish the Lovandels never left.”
Darryl looked up, surprised to hear the dog whistle out there in the sticks. Was Viel one of them?
“Even you weren’t alive back then.” Brenn chuckled, missing the implication Viel’s sentence carried. He paused, his tone filling with longing. ”But I feel you. Were we always so arrogant?”
The villagers, reassured by the knight's effortless victory, slowly emerged from their safehouses, cautiously returning to their work despite the ever-present darkness.
Some looked happy to simply be safe, some stared at the patches of burnt crops, still lit up by the embers.
Darryl adjusted his cloak. The Goddess’s rest wasn’t over, even if danger diminished. He silently watched the rest of the night's proceedings.
Each time a tribe of monsters arrived, knights met them in the field.
And slaughtered them.
Wave after wave.
Last few hours before dawnbreak were completely silent, allowing everyone some much needed reprise from the danger – the one thing that was constant in their lives.
He watched the villagers cheer for their saviors.
Darryl’s thoughts were far from optimistic as he watched the clique formed around the Calland boy.
Not only was he a Kira, the resemblance to his uncle was just too uncanny. Even the noble’s laughter was just as grating against his ears.
Darryl shrugged. If he took after that bastard, I’ll just kill him. True and tested solution.
Though cynical as he was, even Darryl had to admit.
The knight order, for all they seemed like insufferable pricks, brought a sense of security to Grainwick. At least the job’s easier now.
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The faint glow of red crept over the world, painting it a vibrant color.
For the first time in years, Bert had woken up when the Goddess returned instead of holding the line until then. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, savoring the rare stillness.
It didn’t last long. The muffled sounds of cheers and raised voices drifted through the window. He sighed, already suspecting their source.
On the opposite side of the bed, Aura and Marco were both still asleep, huddled together. They grew closer lately in their reckless pursuits of grandness, whatever it was, but he had always been her son more than his.
The realization stung a little, but Bert couldn’t just ignore the risks they took. Somebody had to tone down their naivety, or they wouldn’t last.
He pushed himself up, dressed and left in silence.
Outside, the air was damp and cold. The usual grief of the dawn was absent. Instead, a small crowd had gathered near the village square, clustered around the knights who now lounged in makeshift seating near their quarters.
Their polished armor, though stained with blood and dirt, reflected a vibrant crimson.
Bert’s gaze swept over the scene.
The knights were mostly in high spirits, some leaning on their shields as they laughed and slapped each other on their backs.
Others drained tankards of mead, the casks provided as thanks by the grateful villagers. Yet, even from a distance, Bert could see signs of tension among the men and women of the order.
As he approached, the boisterous atmosphere was pierced by a sharp voice.
“This is all they brought us? Pathetic!” A young knight with an ornate chest plate sneered at the emptying casks. “Do they expect us to drink like peasants after last night’s victory?”
Bert’s jaw tightened. He recognized the voice— the same young noble who had caused trouble upon their arrival. The knight’s face was red with irritation, his tone sharp enough to turn heads.
A few of his comrades murmured in agreement, their earlier camaraderie fading into grumbles.
“They’re doing what they can,” an even younger knight muttered, but his voice lacked conviction. Some nodded, but they were outnumbered.
A woman, her armor almost as gaudy as Calland’s, stood up beside him.
Her voice booming, she announced. “Then clearly they don’t understand how to properly thank us.” Her sharp, regal features distorted into a grin.
Her gait was slightly unsteady from the alcohol she imbibed so far, but she strode toward the nearby tavern.
Most of the square followed her with their eyes, with very mixed reactions, but no one moved to stop her.
The timid knight left the scene quickly, silently.
Without hesitation, The sharp-faced lady pushed through the tavern doors.
Moments later, she emerged with a small barrel under her arm, her expression smug as she carried it back to the square.
The innkeeper followed, his face pale but his mouth clamped shut.
Bert understood – What could you even do?
She brought the barrel back to their table and with a loud thud, placed it down. She looked to Calland, her face that of clear expectation.
“This is more like it,” He said, patting the woman on her shoulder. He helped her pry it open, the scent of strong mead wafting into the air. “Now, thanks to El we can celebrate properly.” he announced with a cheer.
Bert’s fists clenched as he watched.
This was always how it started.
Around him, villagers exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier gratitude now tinged with fear. Still, those people saved their lives, so who would fight them over some mead?
Even if the village didn’t have much.
Well, at least one person had something against it.
Sir Viel strode into the square, led by the timid knight from earlier. Commander’s face was like stone.
“Lady Elvera!” Viel’s voice cut through the air like a whip. The knights fell silent, their laughter and grumbles evaporating under their commander’s glare.
Both Elvera and Calland straightened, their smirks faltering as Viel approached.
“Explain yourself,” Viel said, his tone cold.
“I—” Elvera hesitated, clearly unprepared for confrontation. “The provisions were inadequate, Commander. I merely ensured we had enough to sustain morale after—”
“You stole from the villagers,” Viel interrupted, his voice deadly calm. Her cheeks flushed, but Calland stepped in before she could respond.
“Stole? Who would ever do such a thing? We’ve just taken some mead for the party – What’s the harm?” He said.
Viel turned to the arrogant man. “And did you ask permission before you did?”
“Oh my, does Sir commander mean they would deny their saviors simple mead? I thought better of them.”
The villagers looked uncomfortable, not sure which way they wanted it to go.
Viel looked between the rowdy pair and the innkeeper, but the latter clearly didn’t want to risk retaliation for speaking up. “How much for the barrel? We’ll pay for this one.” He paused. Seeing the smirk on Calland’s face, he added. “and if Grainwick wishes to offer them any more, everything has to go directly through me.”
Viel turned back towards the knights, a clear threat in his voice. “If anyone stumbles into training tomorrow, I’ll have you curse the day you were born.” His eyes locked onto Calland directly. “Mark my words, I can be just as cruel as Lord Morgan.”
The young knight lost his smirk for a moment. For what it was worth, the commander knew how to hurt his pride.
A few people desperately pushed their cups away and strayed from the tables to look for water to drink.
His job done, Viel departed. “Enjoy the celebration, everyone.” He said, as he walked away.
The knights obeyed, though their expressions were a mix of resentment and grudging respect.
A few, mostly Calland’s clique, sent hostile expressions toward the snitch.
Bert lingered, watching Viel intently, as the older knight disappeared between the buildings.
If they had such a figure back then, maybe his parents wouldn’t have been taken away?
The commander was a powerful man in his mind – keeping a tight leash on his subordinates.
Maybe Aura was right, and his worries were unfounded? Maybe this time, the reinforcements would be just that – a saving grace.
Not wishing to waste the precious morning any further, he went back to his smithy, he had a lot to do.
As did everyone, now relinquished of the harsh duty to fight.
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When David woke up, he was still a little shaken.
For the predator to stare at him amongst all those knights? What was that even about?
Luckily, the knights beat it well, so fingers crossed it got the message.
He’d been training everyday and he didn’t plan to stop… But each time he walked outside the village, the forest intrugued him.
It lured him in with trees of colors he had never seen in nature. Sometimes, animals straight out of myths grazed nearby.
It's been about two eclipses since he appeared in this world, and yet he barely knew anything outside the village.
Not to mention the suffocating tension between Aura and Bert.
But if it were safer now, maybe he could take a little break?
A walk in the mystical forest was just the thing he needed to get his mind off of things. He could even find some rare herbs and experiment with them.
The possibilities were limitless. Caution felt unnecesary. No danger to speak of.
