They tidied their broken down camp, while Oats silently got to preparing breakfast for the tired party. Serril insisted Murphy and Uundah join him on a patrol, and they took the hint to go and receive their next lecture.
They walked some ways away from camp before the massive armoured man stopped and turned to face them. He was as bloodied and bruised as everyone else, the sheer number of the monsters being so overwhelming. He had a few fresh cuts on his cheek and forehead, and still held his firm look of disappointment. "So you’re a Warlock then" he said, more as a statement than a question.
"I am… but try not to hold it against me" Murphy joked.
"I wouldn't normally. No reason for a Demai to fear your kind. Not unless you're busy keeping secrets". He raised an eyebrow at the Warlock, then glanced at his O'jin.
"We weren't trying to be sneaky. It's just self preservation" Murphy defended.
Serril grunted. "We're your party, Eseyfirr. If you can't trust us with your nature, how are we expected to trust you?"
"I don't see how it matters really" the Warlock argued, clearly starting to get a little frustrated.
"It matters because you lied" Serril snapped with a stern face. "You had us all believing you were a trained wizard. Your recklessness in being here could have us all killed."
"I am a wizard though. I have the medal to prove it."
"You and I both know how you got that red crystal. It was up to you to have enough honour to earn it". Serril turned his head to look back in the direction of their camp. "You owe the two of them an apology" he declared.
Murphy looked to the ground, feeling as if he was being scolded by his grandfather. "I am sorry I lied to you friend" he said sheepishly.
"Your words won't go far enough here Warlock. There's not much sense in sending you off now though. You can stay with the party and out of the way. Perhaps you'll still find a way to earn your name". He turned, and started back towards camp, leaving Murphy in guilty silence beneath the ferns.
Murphy was frustrated. He didn't think his secret was a big deal, though the Demai obviously thought otherwise. They stood in sad silence for some time, then resigned to the awkwardness of returning to camp. He approached Oats right away to help him load the food onto the cart, but the strange man refused to meet his eyes. May seemed utterly pleased for her part, giving off an aura of vindication. They left the camp with Murphy and Uundah at the rear.
The walk was boring without Oats and his stories, forcing Murphy and Uundah to try and make conversation with the bird he rode. The beast was a terrible conversationalist, but it did seem to understand the subject matter to a certain degree. It would give a huff or an angry squawk every time he insulted it. He made an attempt to name it, and eventually settled on "Elltrell", the Dolmic word for Entree. He was more partial to the name "Cat Food" personally, but Elltrell had made it very clear that his better suggestion wasn't acceptable. The sight of the village was a welcome relief from the long and boring walk. Being the last to enter the lands, he was met by a curious child that had come to see the adventurers that were entering their home. It was a little boy with long jet black hair and rough canvas clothing. He bravely stepped out in front of Elltrell and held his hand up in a gesture to stop. At his hip was a wood cutters hatchet, which he rested his right hand on steadily. Murphy chuckled to himself at the boy's confidence before pulling his mount to a halt.
"What be your business here traveller" the child demanded, never taking his hand away from his axe.
"I heard you have a wyvern problem" Murphy joked in response. "Thought I might see what I can do about that."
"So you come from the Tavern then?" The boy asked, his defensive pose starting to waver.
Murphy smiled, and held up his medallion. "Is this proof enough for you sir?" He asked sarcastically.
"And what's that?" The boy queried, pointing at the O'jin sitting in front of Murphy.
"Little shit. I'm not a that, I'm a he" Uundah huffed.
The boy was in awe. "Your rat can talk?" He asked in wonder.
Murphy laughed, and pat Uundah on the head. "Sure can. He's quite a clever little rodent."
Uundah shot Murphy a deadly look. "Do you want to make me mad too?" He thought to his Warlock.
"Don't matter how clever it is, I better not find him going through our grain, or it'll be the stocks for you and the dogs for your pet" the child threatened.
"I don't like him" Uundah declared mentally.
"I think he's funny. He reminds me of a younger version of myself."
"That's probably why I don't like him" Uundah sighed.
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"Are you the village guard then?" He asked, turning his attention back to the boy.
"Someone's gotta do it" he responded, pounding his chest. "Can't let you through without an escort, that's the rule."
"Did you escort my party in then?"
The boy growled. "Slipped right by me they did, but I'll make sure they're not up to anything evil, Mark my words."
"Sounds like I'm in safe hands in that case. Why don't you walk me into town, and I'll make sure I follow the rules" Murphy replied, sliding off the back of Entree. He gave the beast a scratch under the beak, receiving a reluctant trill in response.
"You'll have to stable your feather-link, I've got a place for that. Come on now, I don't have all day."
They walked mostly in silence the short distance to the stable. The walk took them away from the town by five minutes to a small farmhouse and barn, being greeted by two obnoxiously friendly dogs at the gate. The boy commanded the dogs to follow in stoic silence, and the drooling Danes listened eagerly. When they got to the barn door, the boy ordered Entree into a stall. To Murphy’s surprise, his mount followed the instructions without confusion.
"There's a boarding fee of course" the confident eight year old declared, holding out his hand. Murphy laughed, and produced a silver slip for the fee. He knew it was a lot to pay, but the boy had managed to lighten his mood, so he felt no problems parting with the coin.
"That should do" the boy said, hiding his obvious excitement. "Alright, to the pub with you now. My uncle will want to meet with you and your kind". Without further instructions, he ordered his dogs to follow, and started back towards the village. Murphy questioned his guide about the town on their walk, learning a few necessary details. The village was called "Broken Cart", named by the first settling family for obvious reasons. It housed thirty two residents, making it more of a hamlet than a village. The boy didn't know a lot about the wyvern, since he was relegated to the village cellars whenever the beast came by. The only two people that would ever interact with their draconic overlord were the local blacksmith and the boys uncle, who was the leader of the settlers. The man went by the name "Kir Babenor", and he had only had the job since the wyvern had been extorting them. The beast had apparently eaten the last Kir when negotiations had fallen through. Even though the boy, who was named "Cardic", didn't know a whole lot about the situation, it was still an eye opening conversation for the inexperienced Warlock. He'd always thought of wyverns as mindless monsters of the sky. Learning of them acting as a bandit might, wasn’t something he could have expected. Realising his foe might be rather intelligent was a daunting prospect.
The pub hosted the entire hamlet by the time they arrived. Cardic's aunt was quick to snatch the boy away from the stranger he strode in with. Serril gestured for Murphy and Uundah to join them, clearly frustrated by how late they were. The party was standing next to a lean man with a thick black beard. He was dressed in the same kind of cheap to make clothing you'd usually find a farmer in, the dirt stains on his beige shirt being a dead give away to his occupation. Given that everyone was standing around him and the party, Murphy figured the man must have been the Kir of the village. He joined them, and attempted to apologise to the grumpy Demai, but was cut off by the waving of a big hand. Serril had no interest in hearing what he had to say, and he wasn't ashamed of being obvious about it. The chatter in the pub settled when Kir Babenor rang a chunky cowbell to get everyone's attention.
"Alright, alright. It's a big day I know, but we have a lot to get through, so settle down". He looked around the room to ensure everyone had stopped talking, and settled his stare at one man in particular before continuing. "Thanks for waking up for this Dalley" he joked, breaking down the tension a little. The villagers shared in his laughter, appreciating their inside joke.
"I was told there'd be pie" the older man defended in jest. The village laughed some more, then the Kir got into his speech.
"Now as the lot of you would know by now, we sent out a request to the Tavern to help with our new landlord."
"We ought to know, cost us all a good few coin" someone complained from the back of the room.
"Cost your wife more like it" another man laughed.
"Either way" the Kir said loudly, taking control of the room once again. "We needed the help, and they're here now. I won't say too much on it, you lot are probably sick to death of the sound of me by now, but I want you to listen to our Demai friend here. He has a few things he'd like to ask you all". He gestured to Serril to take the stage.
The room remained silent in anticipation of hearing the towering warrior speak. He stood tall and cleared his throat.
"Good people of Broken Cart. We have heard your request and are here to help on behalf of the Tavern. I won't lie to you, it's no easy task to remove a nesting wyvern. The coming weeks are going to be a test of your body and your spirit. But I believe we can win the coming battle."
The village people muttered among themselves, a few of them managed a soft clap. There was a building tension in the air that was only broken once a brave voice shouted from behind the small crowd.
"You’re damn right we can win" the confident Cardic bellowed.
That prompted a chuckle from the villagers, easing the gloomy aura. Serril took the chance to capitalise on the lighter mood.
"That's the spirit sorted" he laughed. "Next is the body. Who here is a fighter?"
Again the room grew silent. Serril frowned, sizing up the men and women around him.
"Many of you seem able enough. Who here is willing to fight."
The room remained silent, until the same voice rang out.
"I'll fight" Cardic shouted, pushing his way to the front.
"Cardic, not now lad" Babenor chastised, but was silenced by the movement of Serril.
The big man took a knee, attempting to get to eye level with the boy. He still had to look down, but the pose had carried the sentiment enough.
"So you're the spirit I suppose. We need men like you in this fight, I think I can find a job for you". He finished with a wink at the Kir, prompting a scoff from the boy.
"I'm not a baby you know. I can fight as good as any of these dirt swimmers here" he barked.
"You’re not old enough yet" Babenor interrupted. "We don't need any of that nonsense here. We've talked about this before, and we'll talk about it again later."
Cardic frowned. "We wouldn't be hiding under the pub every other week if we had more of that nonsense."
"Later, Cardic. Go on back home and feed the bulls'' the Kir ordered.
Cardic huffed again, and stormed out of the room. Serril stood, and looked over the crowd while the new and awkward silence set in. Once he was confident that the people had stewed in their discomfort for long enough, he spoke again.
"Is that all then?" He asked, letting the question hang for a moment. "All the fight you have is in the heart of one boy? You people should be ashamed" he chastised.
That prompted an angry mutter from the crowd, encouraging the anxious Kir to step in.
"Now sir, I don't think that's necessary" he said sheepishly.
"Is it not? You people are Grounders. Did you truly think you could settle a home on the surface of this world without having to face a fight? Your ancestors didn't live alongside monsters and marvels in their own struggles just to see you roll over to one gods damned greedy lizard" Serril ranted.
The room soaked in the lecture, a palpable guilt starting to enter the air. For a moment, Murphy thought he saw an aspect around the crowd, but it vanished as soon as he noticed it. That wasn't the first time that had happened. Something about crowds and emotions bared further study, he thought.
"I don't expect you all to be great warriors, you have your own lives to live. But I came here thinking you would at least fight for that life. If you wish to bow to your new master, then we will leave you to it. But if you wish to keep your freedom, and your chosen life, then stand your ground here and we will help". Serril took a step back, standing in line with the party.
The people stayed silent, sharing scared and confused looks with each other. Murphy was doubting their hopes of help, until a man finally spoke up.
"I've never been one that could swing an axe too well" a wiry man in the front row said. "But I think I might do just about anything to keep my home happy. I'll fight, if it means my young one can grow old free."
"I'll fight too" a woman declared, stepping forward to hold the wiry man's hand.
"You'd all be pig food if I'm not there" the man called Dalley sighed. "I'll work the forge for war, and I'll lend my hammer arm to that sky rat's skull."
Soon enough, half of the room had declared their intention to fight, the other half promising to help in some other way. Serril's smile was wide once again, so he retook the floor.
"Perhaps I found warriors after all" he declared. "Spend this night merry Broken Cart, for tomorrow morning will bring the first day of the Skirmish."