The deadline of one hour given by the Publicani began in chaos.
As directed by the village elder, who Kalen had realized was the equivalent to a village chief in Yurth, the surrounding crowd quickly panned out through the village houses to look for the required materials.
Ripe melons, bundles of grapes, squash, anything that wasn’t tied down or too soft.
Ayana ran off as well. As before Kalen’s eyes, he watched as she sprinted in the direction of her home.
‘She must be going to tell her mother what’s happening. Though I’m not sure if disturbing Breila with the news would be good for her health. Not when this is going to be over in less than an hour…’
Kalen looked over at the Publicani’s men. By their order, he and his sister were forced to remain where they were.
Kalen realized that the Publicani wanted something with him. As the raised hand of one of the horse-mounted guards behind the Publicani had stopped Kalen from following after Ayana.
‘Though I’m not sure of what.’
So Kalen was told to wait a moment, while noticing the amused expressions of the men on horseback at the villagers who raced in between buildings. After some time, a man in bronze armor slowly walked over to him.
“I see you have quite a few marks across your body. Do the bandages across your head cover such an injury as well?”
The Publicani, who had gotten off of his horse and walked over, said to Kalen. He motioned to the bandages wrapped around the side of his head and ear.
Yes, even after a week, Kalen still needed to keep the gash across his head clean and wrapped. Though the rest of the cuts across his body had closed and Kalen had stopped feeling the pain from his rib.
Kalen replied slowly to the statement.
“Yes, a cut across my head kept me from working for a few days.”
The Publicani nodded. His smile made alongside a squint would have been disarming to Kalen if he had not seen the previous high-handed display with the elder. There was a false sense of sincerity in the man’s expression, and something about it unnerved Kalen.
“Hm. A cut across your head, huh? How terrible, how terrible.”
The Publicani echoed.
“You’re not from Yurth, are you?”
Kalen felt something drop inside him.
‘What? How did he realize that?’
“What do you mean?”
Kalen replied. He cursed his nervousness for expediting his response.
The Publicani rolled his neck.
“How do I know? Well, I gather you’ve never heard of this, but…in Redlanding, there’s something of a universal truth, sort of like a…common observation about our surroundings. Extending to the empire, our continent, and even the entire world.”
He looked at Kalen.
“It states that in whatever land you tread, the various races of mankind, however similar or not they are from each other, will always have some unique physical traits that belong to them solely.”
Kalen felt the grip of Layla grow tighter around his hand. He started to feel the urge to back up but stopped himself.
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“My…lord, is there something I’m missing?”
Kalen forced the honorific into his question despite how unnatural it felt on his tongue. In Willowhearth, even to his most respected teacher Marshall, he had still addressed him as nearly an equal, or as an elder at the most. There was still deep respect in their relationship, but it was expressed through deed and thought, not speech.
Kalen waited to see the reaction of the Empire’s tax collector. Something about his line of conversation was making Kalen anxious. Or maybe it was the gleam of the saber’s pommel at the Publicani's waist that still hadn’t been let out of his grip.
“It appears so. Aren’t you curious about the unique features of humans? What identifies us from the others? What separates the wheat from the chaff? Or perhaps you already know?”
Suddenly, the Publicani’s words hit Kalen, and he cursed himself for not realizing it before. Just a quick look around the village and anyone would have been able to guess.
Though Kalen hadn’t realized that it was unique to humans, only.
“Hair and eyes in dark shades. Browns and blacks, yes. Yet never…purple, or blue for that matter.”
Kalen winced as the Publicani withdrew his saber with a metallic whistle. Yet the blow never came.
The Publicani motioned to his retinue, from which two men in bronze armor dismounted.
“Search him. Pockets, ears, and scalp.”
‘Scalp?’
The two attendants closed in on Kalen, before which he let go of Layla and warned her to keep quiet with a silent look.
The men grabbed his head, prodding his uncovered ear and even thumbing through his hair strangely. Kalen kept a straight face, inwardly confused and relieved that they were searching him instead of outright killing.
“Nothing on the left? Then uncover the other one. Make sure they aren’t cropped, too.”
The Publicani instructed his men with a frown.
The one on the right side of Kalen quickly undid the bandages, tearing them off with a yank, which caused Kalen to stifle a groan.
The man searched for a second, looking around and at the ear and through his hair like the other one had.
“Nothing, there’s no evidence of cropping. Though this might be a problem if it gets infected.”
The man jerked the right side of Kalen’s head toward the Publicani so he could see. The shift allowed Kalen to see the vision of Layla, whose eyes were growing more watery by the minute.
He could tell his sister was frightened by the situation and wanted to ask what was going on, but he couldn’t risk speaking at the moment.
“Hm. Yes, but that’ll be simple enough to avoid.”
The Publicani said as he looked at Kalen’s head. After a moment more spent in silent rumination, Kalen looked back to see the Publicani’s eyes flicker in confusion.
“So in the end, not an elf? Huh, odd. How else to explain his odd features? Purple hair, blue eyes? Definitely not a beastkin…hm.”
The Publicani threw up his shoulders.
“As long as he’s not either of those, it’s no issue for travel.”
The Publicani sheathed his saber. Kalen was able to finally take a breath.
“Boy, what’s your name?”
Kalen shook off the two attendants' grips before nodding to his sister. As he saw her face grow softer he turned to reply.
“Kalen.”
“And Kalen, where are you from?”
Kalen wasn’t sure whether to answer truthfully or not. He knew now that they weren’t suspicious of him for his origin, but for his race. It seemed that Kalen had features that were not typical of other humans, despite being one himself.
Yet at the same time, would there be any downside to giving them the name of a ruined village? His plans to go back to Willowhearth were still in motion, but he knew what awaited him were likely cinders.
But it paid to be safe.
“Arkhos. The Kingdom to the south.”
The Publicani nodded. That seemed about as specific of a reply as he was looking for.
“Well then, Kalen, I think you’ll make a fine addition to our group after we’re done here.”
The Publicani gave a grin to the boy before turning back to his retinue.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, my boy!”
The tax collector said from over his shoulder.
Kalen watched as the man walked with the two that had just searched him, whispering something to them before they mounted their horses.
They nodded and rode off toward the interior of the village.
The Publicani then mounted his own horse. He seemed to have put Kalen out of his mind for the moment as he spoke to his entourage.
“Now come on! That hour is almost up.”