It had been a long couple of days and not easy for anyone.

Trafka had been his usual impatient self, wanting to go to the village as soon as possible and getting more and more frustrated each time Kenneth had more or less had to put him down.

Eventually, he’d become so bored he’d begun to clean his armour and weaponry, something Kenneth supplied a bit of rubbing alcohol for so he could get his stuff nice and shiny and ensure any lingering viruses and bacteria were taken care of.

Of course, he did the same for himself, cleaning the blood off his clothes, though it was a long and pained process with his broken finger. A splint and surgical tape would ensure it would heal and remain in the right place, though that meant he couldn’t wear one of his gloves for some time.

Not that such trivial things truly mattered compared to Kolu.

He was still angry and had mostly spent his time hiding under Trafka’s bed.

Nokstella had tried to approach him a couple of times when Kenneth was preoccupied, but each time, the same thing happened. He’d just growl and threaten with his claws, scaring her away.

The wound he’d inflicted on her may have healed, but the real damage wouldn’t so easily.

Kenneth knew he was hurting, and he tried to help as best he could by talking to him. Not that he ever replied, so instead, Kenneth thought it might be better to talk in another way.

Right beside the bed, Kenneth had carved the game Tic-Tac-Toe into the floorboards using Huto’s knife.

He went first and then said, “Your turn.”

It took a long time, but eventually, without noticing, Kolu had made an X. The game was a long one, but it was at least progress.

The only good news throughout it all was that the burning death seemed to have been contained. Trafka, as stubborn as he was, did take the penicillin without much of a fight when he developed some early symptoms of coughing and probably a low-grade fever.

Kenneth couldn’t be sure since there was no way in hell he’d live through explaining the purpose of a rectal thermometer, not that he knew the average body temperature of an Aki.

Yet regardless, as quickly as the symptoms had appeared, they disappeared, coupled with constantly using hand sanitiser plus wiping everything down, airing out now and again, and keeping a relative distance.

For now, the worst seemed behind them.

“I’m thinking of going on a walk. Do you want to come?” Kenneth asked.

Nokstella’s scales immediately darkened, “Yes, papa!”

Still far from comfortable being called that, Kenneth shrugged it off for now and lifted her up in his arms. Before he left, He knelt and looked under Trafka’s bed, “Kolu, do you want to come too? The fresh air would probably do you some good.”

He stared at Kenneth from the corner, the darkness obscuring all but his glowing eyes, yet slowly, he began to move, crawling out from under the bed.

He looked worse for wear, his fur seemingly having thinned as the strands stuck to his clothes, yet strangely, the rest of it was neat and in place.

“Do you want to sit on my shoulders?” Kenneth offered.

He didn’t respond and only glared at Nokstella, his claws protruding.

Kenneth wondered if he was going to attack her again, but instead, he just walked out of the room and into the bathroom.

‘He still needs time,’ Kenneth thought as he walked to the front door, closing the bedroom door behind him.

He took the handle to the door and opened it, yet the moment he felt the warm rays of sun and cooling winds, he started to have second thoughts and closed it.

‘What if I haven’t used enough hand sanitiser? Kenneth worried. ‘What if I’m just being impatient when I know…”

“Bang…”

Sounding like something heavy hitting the floor, Kenneth’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he reflexively glanced back to where the sound had originated. The bedroom.

“…You can’t be…”

Trafka’s words were rather quiet and slightly muffled, but Kenneth could make them out along with sounds of troubled breathing, sounding similar to panting.

“…You… ARE not weak… You… are STRONG… You… HAVE to be strong… You are a son of house Krosk… You… You… CAN’T be weak… you can’t let them… Let them… LAUGH at you… You have to be Strong…!”

“Bang!”

Kenneth just stood frozen, nervous and unsure what to make of what Trafka was saying as a million thoughts raced through his mind, ‘Is he still sick? Was he just hiding it? No, that can’t be. He recovered quicker than Kolu, but nevertheless, he recovered, so it has to be something else.

‘He has been fighting almost nonstop since we left the outpost. Could it be he has some injury he’s not mentioned, something healing hasn’t been able to fully trea—‘

His thought came to an abrupt halt as he heard the sound of the door opening. Snapping his head back around, his gaze locked with Ijubee’s.

He looked slightly surprised and uncomfortable, yet he greeted him with a smile. “Black healer was it. I came to hear how you and Lord Krosk were feeling.”

Kenneth hesitated a slight bit, “fine, I guess.”

“Splendid, the commander will be pleased to hear such great news. Do both of you wish to join him at the great hall and deliver the news yourself’s.”

Kenneth thought about it for a split second, “Umm… no, I think—“

“I’ll tell him, Trafka said, stepping out of the bedroom. “I’ve had enough of being cooped up in here.”

“I’d imagine so, which is why the commander has some good news of his own to share,” Ijubee said as he led the way.

Unable to get a word in, Kenneth followed as he kept a keen eye on Trafka, unable to spot anything obviously wrong with him, so either he was hiding it very well, or he had just been completely mistaken in thinking it was an injury. Maybe it was just some emotional problem or stress fueled by self-doubt, given what was said.

Nevertheless, he decided to keep an eye on him for now just to make sure.

It wasn’t a very long walk and certainly not one he needed a guide for with how identical the outpost was, even if there were some slight differences.

Arriving at the great hall, it was brimming with people, the sound of their talking overflowing and spilling out from the large building, yet it was strange as their seating disposition seemed somewhat segregated, with women sitting at selected tables at one side of the great hall and men on the other.

It was a somewhat peculiar sight to behold. However, Kenneth didn’t have time to linger as Ijubee led him over to Lord Batugta, who was sitting at the large chair by the fine dining table.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He was joined by the hunter commander Drogsa and Volsk, who were in the middle of a conversation when they arrived.

Lord Batugta quickly greeted them both, “How excellent you could finally join me, Lord Krakni and Black healer. I’ve been looking forward to this for some time.”

He gestured for them both to take a seat.

Trafka took the seat at the end of the table, and Kenneth took the seat beside him and Drogsa.

“So what is this news your subordinate wished to share,” Trafka questioned.

With a satisfied expression, Lord Batugta leaned back in his chair, “I knew how urgently this mission assigned by his majesty was, so not knowing how long your journey would be halted, I took the liberty of sending out some of my best scouts to “Vogoli” to inform of your arrival and arrange a fitting escort for one of your status.”

“…I do not seem to recall having given such an order,” Trafka calmly said.

Lord Batugta’s satisfied smile grew, “and of course, you didn’t have to. I saw it not only prudent but an honour to aid you to the fullest extent of my authority.

“To that end, I also saw fit to have the scout travel back to the capital and deliver this news to your Lord Father.”

“I see,” Trafka said as his hand ever so slightly and almost unnoticeably shook.

Noticing the pot was about to boil over for whatever reason, Kenneth quickly piped up, “Well, Batugta, I, for one, am very thankful for your efforts, but could you answer me why there is such a large gathering here.”

Lord Batugta looked somewhat surprised as his ear slightly twitched, but he quickly replied, “Well, I thought it obvious given Ki’s placement high above, but I do not blame you. There is a certain lack of aroma in the air.

“It is the new cook, unfortunately. She has not yet acclimated to her role as quickly as I would have liked. It is disappointing, but I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much from outpost women; they do lack the fineness and dutifulness of a proper woman.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ijubee echoed.

“Uh-huh, okay then,” Kenenth replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Your questions are more than welcome, so I hope you feel inclined to answer mine, Lord Batugta said. “Upon our first meeting, I noticed your darkened hand. Now I see it was only covering, but I couldn’t help but wonder why you removed it and fastened some kind of device to your finger.”

“Oh, this thing. It's just for healing purposes after a psycho bent it the wrong way,” Kenneth casually explained, surprising himself with his calmness.

“If you are wounded, we do have a healer at our disposal,” Lord Batugta offered.

“That’s quite all right. I… prefer to let it heal slowly,” Kenneth said while at the same time internally kicking himself for thinking of such a dumb lie, though no one really seemed to think much of it.

In truth, he had debated for a short while if he should see the healer once the Burning death was dealt with; however, he ultimately decided not to since he couldn’t be sure how much Trafka knew about him, particularly regarding when he and magic make contact.

So, for now, he would keep it hidden, just in case.

“I hope you do not take any offence to me asking Lord Batugta, but how does one of royal beginnings end up as a commander of an outpost,” Trafka inquired.

Pausing slightly, Lord Batugta spoke in a calm tone of voice, “Originally, I was in charge of “Vogoli”. I always found life in the capital far too crowded for my liking and took command with dutifulness and steadfastness.

“However, my work was all for not, as unfounded and terrible rumours about me made it back to the capital, and I was unjustly demoted.”

The expression of the two Lords at the table remained calm; however, the others at the table did not share their emotional inhibition at this time.

Volsk looked indifferent, as though he only partly paid attention to the conversation. Drogsa had a more complex expression, as though he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. Lastly, Ijubee looked slightly nervous but, like Drogsa, remained silent.

“I see, what a shame,” Trafka replied.

“Your words are greatly appreciated,” Lord Batugta responded.

Soon, a silence fell between the two Lords, one that was prolonged by the aroma of meat and the appearance of a couple of women from the kitchen carrying bowls and spoons, which they placed in front of each person.

With a bowl before him, Kenneth broke the silence, “So… um, Batugta, has there been any news about Jago, Rafka and the others?”

Lord Batugta slowly shifted his gaze from Trafka to Kenneth, “No. After the mercenaries departed, there hasn’t been a trace. I suppose that could be considered both good and bad news since there’s no certainty of their demise yet.”

Not sure what other answer he expected, Kenneth fell silent just as the food was being brought in.

With lumbering steps, the cook Moliki walked out of the kitchen carrying a square bowl filled with the normal meat soup, which she placed at their table.

“I know it is far from the cuisine of which you must be accustomed, Lord Krakni, but had I known you’d finally join us at the table, I would have made certain this slop would have been of passing quality at least,” Lord Batugta apologized as Moliki with an angry glare walked back into the kitchen.

“Put your mind at ease. Expecting the food from an outpost to be befitting of a royal is a foolhardy notion. My father made certain to teach me that when in the fields of battle,” Trafka replied.

“A wise man indeed, yet even so, I will attempt such an endeavour, most certainly not succeeding but perhaps cleansing your palette, with a banquet in your honour later at dinner,” Lord Batugta confidently said.

“While a… tempting offer, the king's orders must not be delayed,” Trafka replied with hints of reluctance and annoyance in his voice.

Lord Batugta leaned back in his chair, “I do understand which is the reason I send those scouts to “Vogoli”, but I also hope you understand that despite your exceptional physical capabilities, you are travelling with ones of considerably less skill and physical endowment.

‘Is he really talking about me like I’m not here?’ Kenneth thought while raising an eyebrow.

“With those mercenaries running off chasing a fool's hope, you are required to protect the Black healer and the child, and while I have no doubt you can handle such a challenge, it will slow you. Even offering you my best men, I doubt they could aid you to any extent you could not accomplish on your own.

“Whether it be now or later, your journey to “Vogoli” and the eventual encounter with the escort, you will not be delayed in the slightest.”

“You make it sound as if only a fool would rush ahead,” Trafka replied.

Lord Batugta let out a satisfied chuckle, “You make it sound as if I’m forcing you… as if I could. No, your visit to this edge of his majesty's kingdom is simply an unprecedented event.

“So rarely do we have an opportunity to celebrate, and I am a man of the people, so why not give them this glimmer of joy.”

Around the table, everyone acted differently. Ijubee had a smile while Volsk looked bored, and Drogsa rolled his eyes; however, Trafka was motionless, staying silent for a moment.

“Morale is important among soldiers, so I accept.”

“You honour me and this simple place greatly,” Batugta said, his voice brimming with glee.

“It’s rather generous of you to do,” Kenenth said.

“Oh, think nothing of it, Black healer. If you like, we can even throw the little heretic you are holding in the pot,” Lord Batugta offered with a hardy laugh.

Completely taken aback by the proposition, Kenenth unconsciously held Noksetella a little more firmly as he could only say, “Oh no, there’s no need.”

Even though he wanted to shout at him for suggesting that.

“Saving the little heretic for later then,” Lord Batugta replied while motioning for the cook, who’d just finished bringing in the last bowl, to come closer.

With a visibly annoyed expression that she made no attempt to hide, she walked over to the table.

“The food not to your liking?” Moliki snappily asked.

Batugta narrowed his eyes slightly, “When you speak to your superior, you will address me as such.”

“Yes… Commander,” she replied with a hint of reluctance in her voice.

Batugta raised an eyebrow, “decent, but it needs a lot of work, and if your simple mind didn’t catch it, I was both talking about your tone and skills as a cook.

“Regardless, for now, more important matters are at hand. The young Lord has decided to stay for a banquet in his honour, so I will need you to work in the kitchen and prepare everything. I will come by later to instruct upon the food you’ll be making.”

Moliki had a slight glare in her eyes as she clutched her hand, “As you wish… commander.”

Turning to leave, Moliki was just about to walk into the kitchen when Batugta once more spoke, “Cook have you no shame in this company. I can see the tip of your tail. Take the dress and get it fixed this instant.”

Moliki just froze right on that spot.

Batugta turned to both Kenneth and Trafka, “I must apologize; these outpost women are little better than unruly beas—“

Suddenly, a balled-up leather skirt hit Batugta in the head. Everyone in the room fell silent as all eyes gathered on him and the one who’d thrown it, Moliki.

Her fangs were bare as she let out a growl.

Lord Batugta only glanced at the stitched skins and then at Moliki, particularly her lowered half as her tail was now exposed, “a sorry excuse in courtship if I’ve ever se—“

“SHUT YOUR SNOUT YOU DISGRACED THIEVING ROYAL!!!” Moliki shouted at the top of her lung.

With fury blazing in his eyes, Lord Batugta calmly rose from his seat, yet despite his clear anger, he kept his composure, “Your temper seems to have gotten the better of you, and in your hysterics, you make up lies about your comma—“

“I told you to shut your snout! You're no commander of mine! You got sent here! You force the women to wear dresses and tell us we are shameless and then force us to do menial chores instead of our duties!” Moliki yelled.

With a confident and smug yet angry smile, Batugta responded, “By duties, do you refer to your previous work at Kaliki? You may have been a guard; you may have fought in battle, but here we do things properly.

“Now pick your clothes, cover your shame and apologize, and you may only receive a small punishment.”

With unwavering fury, as her tail grew and her claws fully protruded, Moliki replied, “Do your worst; I’m giving mine in return!”

Batugta let out a small laugh as he drew his sword, “I do apologize, Lord Krakni. It would seem I have to deal with this matter. Though what kind of man would I be to fight an unarmed woman? If she does not retreat, let it be as evenly as possible.

“Ijubee, get a sword from the armoury and make haste. I wouldn’t want her needlessly parade her shamefulness any longer than necessary.”