“Not a chance.”

“But Master!”

“No.”

“But she’s cute!”

The carmine-skinned man turned an infernal gaze at the young werewolf and frowned. “Juva, are you blind? The pup looks about as grim as my soul—if I’d had one. By the furies. You can’t even see her eyes behind those dusky-gray bangs.”

“I know!” Juva said, hugging the grumpy little werewolf tightly. “That’s why I bought her. She reminds me of you, Master. She had a pink ribbon too, tied in the most perfect bow, but she shredded it on the way back.”

“Let me go, woman! I still haven’t forgiven you for that!”

The man picked the muzzle off the table and inspected it. “Why didn’t you use this?”

The Goblina blushed. “Well, turns out that muzzles don’t work on pets that have hands. She chewed through the leash, too. She wasn’t even wearing it…”

“I don’t know why you thought that would work…” Shahkhansheba’khalasi muttered. “Anyway—I was told there’d be food.”

“Not for you,” the red man said, downing a hefty swig of mead.

“But Master!” Two pairs of eyes turned to the werewolf. “… What?” Shahkhansheba’khalasi shrugged. “I thought I’d give kissing-up a shot. I’m hungry.”

The man snorted. “She’s a practical one, at least. I’ll give her that much. But the answer is still no. Feed them once, and they never go away. Trust me on this one, Juva.”

“But what will become of her?” Juva asked, her fingers pleadingly interlocked.

“These vagabonds have a way of landing on their feet. You’ll see. Now. We have more important matters to attend to.” The man rose from the wooden stool, and Shahkhansheba’khalasi gulped.

He was a giant, easily towering over the tavern’s other colorful assortment of patrons. He stood at least seven pa tall, even without his horns. His muscled torso was bare, save for a dented steel galerus strapped to his shoulder. A unique piece of armor, but perhaps one that suited him better since the war hammer he casually swung onto his back looked impossibly heavy. Big enough to bring down a wall, no—an entire house with a single swing.

What in the world is he?

“You mean, you finally got an appointment, my lord?” Juva asked.

The man nodded with a toothy grin, flashing his impressive white canines. “I did. We’ll see lord Khorasan this very afternoon.”

Juva clapped with a delighted squeal. “Finally. My lord is another step closer to returning home.”

“That’s right, my loyal supplicant. Which means we can’t afford to get distracted.”

Juva sighed and looked down at the tiny werewolf sitting in her lap. “I’m sorry, young one. I thought I’d be allowed to keep you, but my master disapproves.”

“But-but… You promised food!” Shahkhansheba’khalasi’s stomach growled in disapproval.

Juva bit her lip, and both girls turned their pouty faces toward the large man.

“What?” The pouting intensified until the man rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Fine, fine. You can give her one meal, but then we leave.”

Shahkhansheba’khalasi whooped at the concession, pumping both her fists into the air.

Juva chuckled and lifted the little werewolf out of her lap. “You just wait here; I’ll be right back—eh, Master?”

“Hm?”

“What do werewolves eat?”

The facepalm that followed sounded like crashing thunder.

“Meat, Juva. Meat!”

The goblina scratched her temple. “Really? Who’d have guessed?”

“It’s in the name…” Shahkhansheba’khalasi moaned.

“Oh, I guess I never really thought about it. Hm—I think I know just the thing!” The Goblina scampered off toward the bar, leaving her master and pet behind.

Shahkhansheba’khalasi turned to the man with a questioning look. “So… Out of all the people in the world, you choose her because…”

The man wrinkled his nose with a sniff, and Shahkhansheba’khalasi followed his unwavering gaze to the goblina at the bar. Her top’s low cut left the better part of her back and shoulders exposed, and the long split in her dress allowed her elegant legs to be glimpsed. While waiting, she bent over and rested her elbows on the counter, and at that moment, the guileless beauty drew eyes from every race, sex, size, and creed in the tavern.

Some people were round, others shapely. But Juva was a collection of fine rounded shapes. Her wavy golden hair cascaded down in an attractively tousled mess that made her appear just a little less tame.

“I have my reasons,” the man muttered.

“Uh-huh…”

A few moments later, the bubbly goblina spun back, and all the heads instantly snapped to their neglected ales, wines, foodstuffs, and games. The background murmur of intermingled conversation picked up, and the ogled girl was none the wiser and as jejune as ever.

“It’s done,” Juva chirped. “I ordered you something special. One of master’s favorites!”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Shahkhansheba’khalasi chewed her lip. “Uhm—Juva?”

“Hm, yes, Shakka?”

The werewolf blinked. “… Shahkhansheba’khalasi.”

“I know. But that’s a real mouthful each time, so I figured I’d call you ‘Shakka’ for short. It’s a lot easier and cuter!”

The young werewolf gritted her teeth. This woman casually defiled her sacred name, given by the moon goddess Luna herself. “How dare…”

“Alright, enough dawdling,” the carmine man said impatiently as he ducked out through the door. “We’re leaving, Juva.”

“Oh. Coming, Master!” She turned one final time to the werewolf. “Now, Shakka—”

“Shahkhansheba’khalasi.”

“—you’ll need to stay right here. The kind server will bring you your food in but a few moments. I-I’m really going to miss you. I still remember when I first got you.”

The werewolf squinted her eyes behind those thick bangs. “That was an hour ago—” The goblina suddenly cut her off with a tight hug. “Stop. Juva! Control yourself, woman! Hngh—I can’t breathe—help…”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot. You’re so weak and scraggy. I regret I didn’t have time to fatten you up some.”

“Scraggy?!”

“Juva!” the man bellowed from outside. “I said we’re leaving!”

“Coming, Master! Shakka, take care of yourself and keep this purse. It isn’t much, but it should feed you for a few days at least.” The Goblina quickly pecked her black snout and disappeared through the door, leaving a confused young werewolf behind.

~

It had taken several weeks of travel and even longer to get through all the paperwork, but Tarikh finally had his audience with Lord Khorasan. He reached into his pocket and took out a palm-sized mechanical contraption. He flicked the copper lid open with his thumb and stared at the unmoving parts and gilded symbols. They called it a ‘geardial.’ It was Tarikh’s most prized possession and, in its current state, utterly useless.

“You’re lagging, Juva,” Tarikh said.

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m just… Well, I’m just worried about Shakka. She’s really young and all alone in the world… Far from home without a soul to care for her.”

“Hm—who? Oh, the pup. You named it? Not good. That’s how you get attached, Juva.”

The Goblina sighed. “I can’t help it, Master. I really want her to be okay. Perhaps later we could—”

“Just forget about the wolf girl,” Tarikh said, and he clacked the geardial shut. “We’re here.”

The duo stopped at the base of a grand stairway, the entrance to Lord Khorasan’s castle.

Though not as large as the many luxurious palaces and keeps owned by lords and petty kings, this castle was by far the most unique. Not because of its marble floors or limestone walls. Not because its azure domes shimmered in the sun like pearls from the sea of Namakzar. Nor because the granite capstones were plated with pure gold. No—the castle was unique solely because the lord who resided there was unlike any other in the world.

“Halt! Who goes there?” the raspy-voiced Marmulek captain said.

He and his lieutenant brandished their spears toward the two visitors, but it wasn’t the threatening lances or their fierce features that made Juva cringe. She ducked behind Tarikh, covering her nose and mouth.

“Ugh. I forgot how much they smell,” Juva muttered.

Tarikh nodded in agreement, then drew a deep nasal breath. “It’s me, you nearsighted fool,” he growled and, with a single finger, pushed the bronze-tipped spear away. “Inform your master that Demon Lord Tarikh is here. We’re expected.”

The pale scaly biped squinted its calculating eyes at the carmine man. Tarikh snarled. With hair, black as onyx, and two pairs of wry keratin horns crowning his head, one would think he’d leave a lasting impression even to the visually impaired.

It was almost insulting, but Tarikh contained his displeasure, though barely. After all, these were Lord Khorasan’s sworn guards. Despite their offensive smell and primitive brains, these lizard-men were capable warriors in their own right. Their bite was supposedly venomous, though Tarikh knew that the bacteria fermenting in their foul mouths were far more dangerous. One bite could lead to infection and a slow, agonizing death.

Still, Tarikh at least had the advantage of towering over them as they weren’t particularly tall. That, and their weapons and fangs, were unlikely to even pierce his skin.

“I think it’s really him, sir,” the other Marmulek said.

“Are you sure?”

The lieutenant nodded. “Positive, sir. Perhaps it’s time to make that conjurer’s appointment—”

“Mind your place, lieutenant. My eyes are just fine!”

“Sir—I’m over here.”

The captain spun, this time facing the right way, at least. “I knew that! I was just testing you, Lieutenant.”

“Eh—”

Tarikh let out a deep rumbling sigh. “They will be at this for a while… Keep up, Juva,” he said and walked past the two inept guards into the great castle.

“With pleasure, Master,” Juva said, still pinching her nose until they were well inside.

The interior of the castle was even grander than the outside. Broad hallways were furnished with thick red carpets, and the walls were adorned with paintings and frescos. There were also many alcoves, each featuring a marble statue of one of the earth’s mightiest warriors. The great men and women from the Age of Heroes long past. Tarikh smirked. He’d killed more than a few of them himself, and with Lord Khorasan’s help, that number would only grow.

“It sure is beautiful in here, my lord.”

“You say that every time, Juva.”

“Well, it is! I mean, have you seen this? And what about that one! Did you see it? Look at this one, Master.”

“Juva.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Don’t forget the vial.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

“Hm.”

The Goblina took the small ceramic vial that hung from her necklace and tucked it between her ample bosom. “There. Nice and hidden,” she beamed.

Tarikh nodded. “Just make sure it doesn’t fall out.”

“You can count on me, Master.”

“I know I can, Juva.”

The Goblina flushed, and the two continued on toward the even more opulent throne room.

~

Back in Abadeh, a certain young werewolf groaned in pain.

“My poor tummy. I can’t fit anymore—but I want to. Human serf girl. What do you call this dish again?”

“Uhm, it’s not really a dish. The goblin lady just ordered all kinds of meat but was very adamant they’d all be served on a single plate. Something about it needing to be one dish? Let’s see. You had rib-eye, tenderloin, some skirt steaks, but also khok belly, ribs, ardak breast… Whoa. You sure ate a lot… Even the bones.”

Shahkhansheba’khalasi petered on the stool, close to falling off. “Serf girl. Come closer…”

“I told you, miss. It’s ‘server’ not ‘serf.’”

“Slave—thrall… Doesn’t matter. My mind is nothing but fog. Listen to me. I feel unwell. You need to fetch me a healer. I think I’ve been poisoned, and I’ll die if you don’t help me. Now, pay attention. Deep in the treacherous mountains of Daryacheh lives a druid. The potion I need requires an offering of one-tenth of a soul, but since you’re only human, make it half and—”

The server chuckled. “Die? You’re not dying. But you are going into a bit of a food coma.”

Shahkhansheba’khalasi toiled to raise her head off the table. “Food coma?”

“Yes. Though it’s not a real coma. It’s what people get when they overeat.”

“Overeat? Is that a thing?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me you’ve never stuffed yourself with food before.”

The little werewolf frowned. “N-no. Never.”

“Oh? But aren’t you a monster?”

“Werewolf, yes. But we are far more civilized and learned than you savages. For example, back in Hufuf, we only eat a single palm-sized portion of lamb each day.”

The server’s eyes flashed in surprise. “So little? How odd. Who’d have guessed that werewolves possessed such restraint?”

“It didn’t use to be like that,” Shahkhansheba’khalasi said, lowering her head back onto the wooden table with a thud.

The server pulled up a stool and joined the young werewolf. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

Shahkhansheba’khalasi yawned. “A legend. Long ago, the werewolves were the greatest warriors in the world. We conquered everyone and devoured who and whatever we wished. But after the last huma—I mean, livestock was eaten, there was no more food in all the land. Thousands of werewolves starved, but some survived by accepting a radical new doctrine.”

“Was it to live in peace and—”

“To eat less, yes. Smart human.”

“—I see.”

“It was then when our socie—” The girl stopped, overcome by another, even wider yawn. “Excuse me. It was then when our society was forever changed.”

“That must have been hard… Miss, you look very tired.”

“Hm-mh. But I have a plan. You see, one day… I will… kill… vampire… But, lost moonstone… zzz…”