“Isn’t this kinda bad?” Dirk said over a mug of grippo wine. Robert and Warren drank with him, exchanging tired looks in the grass. Not far away, Lancel battled against the knights, losing horribly but never going down permanently. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense. The men could have sworn to see Lancel’s limbs bend at odd angles when he blocked a hefty blow, but one second later, everything appeared normal again. The knights said the same thing, but how could it be true? Lancel still grasped his sword as usual, and they didn’t take any breaks to confirm those suspicions.
“The boy didn’t write about us in his letter. Shut up, Dirk,” Robert said. He was fed up with Verq Bavas. Even just watching that boy dance with the knights, a smile on his face and determination in his legs, made him tired. (Unbeknownst to him, Quionne thinned out the air they breathed, making them tired and weary.)
Dirk sighed as Sir Owen’s blow threw Lancel to the ground. The knight stood still, his chest heaving from the effort. Three, two, one… “And he’s up again.”
“As usual,” Robert said.
“F*** this. F*** the boy, and f*** Verq Bavas! What’s up with that beast, anyway? She clings to Brenda like blood to a blade, and if she’s out hunting, the damn cawdelli takes over!” Dirk huffed, downed his grippo wine, and threw the mug halfway to Albino and Sir Owen. “I’m leaving. The mountains will freeze over long before we can work on our objective. I’m not spending winter in this forsaken place!”
Robert made a grim face, then downed his wine as well. “Agreed.” His throw reached a few meters farther than Dirk’s, earning him an annoyed glare.
Warren looked at his drink. He took a slow gulp and placed his mug in their midst. “I’ll stay.”
Dirk punched Warren’s shoulder, screaming like a madman. “Are you mad? You great oaf of a fool, what do you want here? The girl won’t choose us! Even the knights would get her before us because they wouldn’t bother asking first! Don’t you see?”
“I know. That’s precisely why I want to stay.”
Robert looked at his childhood friend and sighed. Warren always looked like that when backing down was no longer an option. “You have always been the weird one in our trio.”
Warren smiled, standing up. “Lancel probably loves Brenda. He tries to deny it, but why else would he stand up to us and the knights to protect her? And the beast, I guess. He enjoys the beast, too.”
“Disgusting boy, f****** animals.”
“As disgusting as f****** another man’s wife? I would much rather have him sire children with a folklore creature than with Vio-” Warren coughed and looked away. No use thinking about her now. She was gone. “Lord Marciel loves to fight for what he believes should be his. If I can beat Lancel, who does the same without resorting to… I don’t know. Maybe I can get back at that bastard voohr somehow.”
Dirk couldn’t believe it. “The boy reminds you of Lord Marciel, and you want to challenge him? Are you retarded?”
“I want to beat him,” Warren corrected. “When Lord Marciel took our wives, we swore never to stoop to his level. Never! We would use whatever method leads to success, but we would never pursue a married woman. Brenda isn’t taken. Not until they exchanged vows and rings, and even then, there are those willing to challenge their bond. I won’t, but until they are married and their blood connected, I will not stop. He has the beast, but I will take the girl.”
Robert stood up and clapped Warren on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Dirk shook his head. “Luck is not what he needs. He needs a f****** miracle! Lord Marciel might demand we interfere with them at any time! It’s better to get out of here. It gives us an excuse to lay low.”
“A man misses all swings he never takes.” Warren took a deep breath, cracking his knuckles. “Who knows? Maybe this time, I will draw blood. Inflict a real wound, you know?”
“You are unbelievable…”
Quionne listened to the men talk in her small form, perched on a flower stem nearby. She was disguised in more ways than one, but thankfully, her time of espionage ended now. The three squad leaders argued with the village chief again, and Brenda was about to walk right in on their scuffle. Fierawr and Cormali slept together, so they would likely be left unbothered. Fierawr was strong enough to defend herself, and even Cormali had recovered her ability to walk since Albino took her in. His semen remained the best conductor of his energy. Simple touches and caresses had the same effect to a lesser extent, and Albino had given Cormali lots of attention throughout their time together.
Quionne wordlessly landed on Brenda’s headband, acting like an ornament. The two weren’t on speaking terms, though, in times like this, Brenda was glad to have the butterfly woman with her.
“I told you we demand a feast for our departure,” Sir Meriwether said, stabbing the table with his gloved hand.
“And you shall get it,” Gordon assured the men, smiling nervously. “It’s just that the particular cawdelli you refer to is not-“
“We don’t care! It is injured, and we have the authority here!”
“Dear Sirs,” Brenda said, feeling more confident with Quionne at her side, “Cormali was given to Lancel as a present. It is not Verq Bavas’s cawdelli to slaughter but the pet of Lancel. She is like the Howler in that regard. She is also no longer injured.”
The three knights glared at Brenda with murder in their eyes. They noticed the butterfly on her hairband, though they thought it was a mere ornament. The pattern on its wings reminded them of the butterfly carrying the letter Albino threatened them with. They had ordered their men to find it but to no avail. Every once in a while, the butterfly taunted them by showing off the parchment, but otherwise, the creature and the letter were nowhere to be found.
“Fine. Choose a cawdelli to slaughter. The biggest and strongest, and have it prepared by tomorrow. Should the boy still stand by then, we will depart with the beast.”
Brenda froze. This was the first time she had heard about this. Quionne knew, but she shared the village girl’s frustration. On this point, both of them had some common ground. “Why will you take him? He has done nothing wrong! Fierawr belongs to him, so why-“
“Because, little girl, the right to judge if he is a good owner remains with the hound breeder. Your boyfriend already agreed. Stupid boy. I can’t wait to see what Jerome will do to him. He’s an… artist, painting exclusively with mind-breaking tools. You want to watch?”
“…He agreed?”
“Yes, and quite easily so. The fool acts a big game, but deep down, your friend is as stupid and incompetent as the rest of you. The law won’t save him, and that’s a promise. Why shouldn’t peasants provide us with certain services? We fight the war for you. We contribute more to the protection of your sorry livelihoods than anyone else! Sharing your women, beasts, and food with us should come naturally. Remember that, little girl. Remember that for when we return. As for your little boyfriend, little brat… Who knows?” The knights shared a laugh, leaving Brenda trembling with fear and Quionne trembling with anger.
Nonetheless, Brenda’s mouth opened before she could stop herself. “If I am such a little girl, why demand my services? Can’t handle a grown woman, can you?”
Gordon dropped his mug at his daughter’s words. Quionne didn’t want to admit it, but her respect for the girl rose exponentially.
Sir Meriwether rose like the calm before the storm and poked Brenda between her collarbones. “There is one thin piece of paper between you and me, little girl. You better remember that.”
Then, the knights left, seething with repressed anger.
“Well said,” Quionne praised Brenda in wind-speak.
“Thank you,” Brenda said.
“Gordon released a shaky breath, clasping his heart. “Who are you talking to, Brenda?”
“…Someone I treated badly. Someone who deserves better.” To Quionne, these words came as a welcome surprise. She nestled in Brenda’s hair, showing her appreciation. Brenda smiled, confusing her father even more. “I won’t leave Lancel and Fierawr alone. I will leave with them tomorrow.”
“You can’t,” Gordon exclaimed, drumming on the table.
“I can and I will,” Brenda insisted. “Lancel needs me!”
Gordon’s mouth fell wide open. He had never seen his daughter like this. “…Brenda-“
“Let her go.” A woman stood at the bedroom door, clutching the frame with a weak smile. “You should know it’s useless to stop a determined woman from chasing after her fiancee.”
Brenda smiled. “We’re working on it, mother. Just friends for now.”
“…That sounds like a friendship worth fighting for.”
Brenda nodded. “It is, mother. Thank you.” She hugged her mother and rushed to her room, preparing for the journey. Albino had helped her to craft a saddle for Cormali once she was better. Brenda only wished the circumstances for her maiden ride were less dire…
Gordon felt at a loss. It wasn’t unusual for the women to unite against him in this household, but not on matters concerning his daughter’s safety. He could always count on Chloe, his wife, to stand with him as parents. “…Why?”
“We can’t baby her forever,” Chloe said, hugging her husband from behind. “This is something she wants to do.”
“But- But where she goes-“
“I know,” Chloe said, locking her hands to mask their trembling. “I know what could happen.”
Albino’s hellish sparring gauntlet continued until the next day when the last trio of knights judged their work complete. Objectively, Albino should have been an easy opponent, but his constant vigilance and intense concentration always had them on edge.
While the knights received nothing but a blow to their pride, Albino’s body was positively broken. Agony. Complete and utter armageddon. Every movement shifted countless bone fragments into all the wrong places, but still, he held on and forced his body to move. Relying on energy for his digestion didn’t make him immune to the pains of his physical body. Where his skin had once been tanned, it now pulsed in various shades of green, purple, blue, and yellow.
Sir Undast, the third squad’s leader, scoffed at Albino as they finished. “You have three hours before we leave. Get yourself presentable, and bring the beast!”
“Yes, Sir,” Albino said, smiling and bowing.
Sir Undast clicked his tongue and ordered the other two knights to follow him away. They weren’t scumbags like him. In their eyes, Albino found pity and sympathy. This pair hadn’t committed any crimes, leading to their names’ omission from Albino’s letter to the king.
With an empty mind, Albino directed his legs to the elemental pond where Brenda and Quionne already waited for him. The village girl felt faint at the sight of his wounded body. “H-how are you… is probably a stupid question, isn’t it?”
No reaction. Albino fell face-first into the pond. There, he converted his blood into energy for the elementals to consume. Brenda rushed to his aid and shook his limp body. He felt more like a sack of water, the contents of his skin sack floating around freely.
“Stop that,” Quionne spat, her own hands trembling. “What he feels is too much for any mortal vessel to bear. He will lose his mind if we don’t hurry, so leave him there and help me.”
“B-but he will-“
“He will not! My esteemed husband-to-be needs no air! Didn’t he tell you already? Now come over here!”
Brenda had never seen the butterfly woman so distressed. She took the black stone from Quionne’s shaking hand, intertwining their fingers until the trembles slowed. Quionne didn’t have the mind to get angry with Brenda. They had an objective to complete. Before them was a massive pile of the black stones fire elementals loved to eat. Brenda hadn’t asked what they were doing. At this point, she trusted the vast knowledge of Quionne and Albino without question.
The Albi-Onna’s antennae twitched, and her compound eyes turned to the path to Verq Bavas. “Help me get Albino out of the pond. Fierawr will not like it if we leave him there.”
A few minutes later, Albino laid on the black stones, and Fierawr arrived with a groaning Cormali in tow. The Howler jumped around the recovering cawdelli in excited circles. She had smelled her mate away from the other humans for once! That meant she would finally spend time together with him again! She liked her junior and alpha female, but Albino gave her that special feeling only a male mate could provide. Her tail wagged as she rubbed herself all over Albino’s prone body. With an exhausted laugh, Albino raised his right hand and administered the best scratches he could give to Fierawr.
“Who is a good girl?”
“Kiina!” the Howler answered without hesitation. It was her clumsy way of saying Quionne.
“Yes, Quionne as well. The best girl who ever bested anyone. But there is another good girl among us, Fierawr.” Fierawr’s tail wagged uncontrollably, licking Albino’s lips before he could name this second good girl. “Who is it, Fierawr?”
“Feerawr!”
“Good girl!”
“Rawr! Feerawr!” In times like this, she acted just like a puppy. It was cute. Her ears twitched, and her tail swished, fluffy and glossy after bathing in the pond a few times.
Quionne frowned at the pair. “Are you in pain?”
“Very,” Albino said, answering honestly. Fierawr made space for her alphas to convene. Albino let his right arm fall, groaning as it slid out of his shoulder’s grip. “This might be bad…”
Quionne took his arm and handed the severed limb to a crying Brenda. “You just had to go and return to your senses prematurely, you idiot. Only I can do this next part… but thank you for calming me down, Brenda.” The Albi-Onna, now a Mortal Albion, channeled her life-fire into the stones, causing flames to erupt. Like a drop of blood attracts sharks in the ocean, many fire elementals came to them from far and wide to participate in this grand feast.
‘Not yet,’ Quionne thought, her hands twitching. ‘Not yet… Now!’ At last, she spotted the bigger, more powerful fire elemental she had waited for. Its fires burned hotter, brighter, and higher. In this inferno, Albino had a slim chance of recovery.
Quionne joined Albino in the fire, her skin marks aflame, and massaged Albino’s bones back into place as he yelled and screamed in pain. The family grew restless, but this was all they could do. “None of you are immune to flames! Don’t do anything stupid – you especially, Fierawr! Your ignition shall come soon enough, but you must avoid these fires today. Listen to his screams! Albino screams for your sake! For your sake, he got hurt! For your sake, he will injure himself as many times as it takes! That is your mate, your husband, your everything! Watch and listen! You have that duty!”
This ritual continued for almost two hours. Quionne’s mental focus drained rapidly. She had to make sure that Albino’s bones grew back the way they should and, if not, to break them apart and massage them back into their usual places afterward. Also, before his right shoulder regained too much of its structure, she had to reattach his metal arm, which snapped into place with an angry hiss, sending metal rods to attach to his reformed, still brittle bones. Albino was right there with her, experiencing the pain unfiltered. Quionne would have kept going, but they were out of time.
Albino took a rattling breath and dismounted from the blazing fire. Quionne had to be carried, which he gladly did. Thankfully, the pain was back to manageable levels. “Few people could do what you did for me, and fewer would use their expertise to help me. I feel honored to have you by my side, Quionne. Thank you. I love you.”
“My love…” Quionne took his cheek in her hand and smiled. She didn’t have the energy for more.
They bathed thoroughly before returning to the soldiers – Cormali, Brenda, and Fierawr included. Albino briefly allowed the Howler to taste him after so long, but they had to go all too soon. All of them would go. A saddled Cormali with Brenda riding her, Quionne in her butterfly form, Fierawr as herself, and Albino to tie them together.
Greetings and salutations! You have earned my eternal gratitude for reading this humble mortal’s story. If you enjoyed yourself, I will have done my job well. If not… well, there is always room for improvement.
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