---WOODROW---

Wooden doors banged open as the villagers stepped out of their huts to welcome this woman. It was unusual for them to be all awake at this hour. Being with Wilbur and Ryne for so long, he inspected their skin for any marks of illness and searched for anyone who was ailing: struggling to breathe, to walk, to talk. His search came empty. They all looked healthy enough. Most of them looked strong.

“Since when did this dark forest protect you?” Woodrow asked as villagers started to crowd closer. They nodded their heads as the woman passed them, and their stares lingered on Woodrow. Whispers pecked his skull. Those who stared and looked warily wore the plain clothes of the common people. Those who Woodrow assumed could fight had wooden spears and sharp poles in their hands.

“A fortnight ago,” the woman replied. “Before that, it was just a dark dead forest through all my years growing up. It doesn’t protect us from human enemies, though. We have problems with bandits these couple of nights, as you saw.”

She paused and looked back at Woodrow. “You should have seen it, the first time the still trees moved. We heard the howl from the mountains. A long howl that chilled my chest and made all the children in this village cry for their mothers. Then the next night we heard grunting and sniffing from outside the walls. And when we saw those eyes looking at us from the distance, we thought it was the last thing we would see.”

The woman closed her eyes and shivered. “I was about to order everyone that could not fight to shut themselves in their huts while the bravest of my men and I held our spears and poles to kill it. But when it approached close enough, the briars saved us and snapped at the great direwolf until she left.”

The woman stopped in front of a house near a communal fire. This hut was built bigger than the rest, with a roof thickened by twice the amount of dried straws and twigs. An elder’s house. The woman stopped near the communal fire, and Woodrow saw most of the villagers surround them and the roaring fire in a circle. Some sat on boulders and logs while others sat comfortably on the ground. Woodrow saw not far from the elder’s hut was a good size of land where they planted rye and potatoes. The miasma clearly had not reached this part of the dark forest yet.

“As for the bandit problem, that great direwolf helped in curbing it the first couple of nights. Our enemies are prone to looting and burning villages in the middle of the night. Recently, they ended up in the bowels of the beast.” The woman smiled, thinking of the memory. Then her smile dropped. “It did not last. Once we all realized that the beast only came out from the mountains at night, the bandits charged and attacked us in the daylight. I don’t know why the dark forest does not protect us from them, but we are left to defend ourselves once the sun is up.”

Woodrow listened to her story. After a moment, he asked, “Why were you out there this night if you knew about the direwolf?”

The woman raised the shield she was carrying. “We don’t have enough resources here to build shields. I needed to steal what they stole from others.”

“That was foolish.”

“Finally, someone agrees.” Another voice said.

It came from a big man a good head taller than Woodrow, squeezing through the crowd and looking directly at the woman. He was fit and firm, the kind of body that was naturally blessed with muscles even with scarcity of food. Lucky bastard, Woodrow thought. There were only a handful of these men in the past monasteries. Usually, they were the leader’s guards or next-in-command. These were the designated bailiffs and hunters. He glanced in Woodrow’s direction briefly as he came closer, then fixed the woman a stern look, towering over her.

“I heard from the scouts that you went off to the bandit’s camp without anyone. What were you thinking?” He growled. “You can’t just leave without permission, Agate.”

Agate frowned and she bristled. She dug the shield into the ground and looked up at him. She spat. “Permission? You forget yourself, Harlan. The village of Kent is still under my authority before our battle.” She pointed to the far end of the crowd. “That is where your tribe lies. Honor our rules and stay where you are before the challenge.”

Woodrow looked over at where she was pointing. There was another communal fire a short distance from where they were standing. A group of men gathered around the fire, and some women and children carried ewers and jars. They threw glances in Woodrow’s direction and at the shield before turning themselves back to the fire.

“I only meant… to think what could have happened if you—” Harlan huffed and closed his eyes. He breathed. “You should follow your own rules and notify your men.”

She scoffed. “Oh, now we establish that I am the elder? Should we call off the challenge, then? Ready to accept my authority to lead in front of the other backstabbers?”

“I will never backstab you, Agate,” Harlan said.

They stared at each other. “I didn’t want anyone to come with me just in case the plan failed. It is foolish, and I didn’t want anyone else to lose their lives from it. I was desperate. We needed that shield. You know we do. If I failed, well, then you finally get what you want.”

“Agate.”

“But everything worked out in the end.” She jerked her thumb to Woodrow. “The monk came in just in time. My own guardian angel.”

Harlan's eyes focused on Woodrow again. Woodrow winked and smiled. Harlan nodded.

Agate rearranged her expression into a blank stare as she picked up her shield. She marched forward. Woodrow followed her. “I shall see you this midnight, Harlan.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“We can—” Harlan began to say before Agate cut him off.

“Be ready.”

The crowd parted as they walked. Harlan stared at Agate before lumbering back to the side of the village where other men waited. There were older children gawking at the shield. Agate allowed them to touch it. Woodrow saw that she was well-liked as they passed each house and family. They called to her and Woodrow watched her features soften. Her shoulders dropped. The stiffness in her arms relaxed. She smiled and told them to go to bed, promising to tell the story another night.

“Who’s the monk?” They called after her.

“My guest,” was all Agate said. “Make him feel welcome.” She barked a name and a scout appeared. A young man who quailed under Agate’s stare. “Distract Harlan and his men. Throw the feast now, hours before the challenge. Tell them that I am getting ready. Right now, though, we have urgent matters to discuss.”

Woodrow wiggled his fingers and eyebrows at the little children, amused as they hid back behind their mother’s skirts. He winked at the nervous scout, making him fumble with his salute.

They walked until they no longer heard voices and the crackle of the communal fire. They walked into the shadows and neared the other side of the village. The walls of the village were made from the same wood of the dark forest, which meant it made for flimsy defenses. It will fall easily apart from the swing of an iron sword.

Agate was quiet all this time. Woodrow broke the silence. “Tension in the air, I feel.”

“The bandit leader came yesterday with his shield. If not for Harlan wrestling his way, I would never have managed to land a hit. And still, it failed to land. Their leader was strong even without armor. But now that I managed to steal it, he would think twice about harassing our village.”

She turned around and faced Woodrow. She was of regular height for a woman, but Woodrow noticed the months of training that sculpted her form.

“My father died a few days ago due to a cough that never got better. He had it for years. The sounds he made for the rest of his life…" she held both her arms and frowned. "In the mornings, into the night, even as he was sleeping. He went from a mighty elder who could swing an axe to a husk of his former self. He could not even hold his walking cane properly.”

Agate looked down as if to wipe a strand of hair, but Woodrow noticed a short tear leaking from her eye. “I was supposed to be the one who led them next. I trained hard with Harlan to be the defenders of this village. But not even a few moments after his last breath, they challenged my authority with a midnight match between mine and Harlan’s strength. I suppose it’s fair. They would not want someone weak again. But to think Harlan agreed to it is—” she huffed and kicked a stone.

“You feel betrayed,” Woodrow said. “You know Harlan well?”

“Since we were children.”

“Maybe he was forced as you to accept the challenge. Did you ever talk to him?”

“No. I was furious.” Agate looked back at the fire. “He did try. He sent scouts to me and made many peace offerings just for a chance to talk. But I inherited my father’s stubbornness. If they want to see a fight, then so be it. If I lose, then at least I showed what I could do.” She held Woodrow’s gaze. “I want you to teach me how to fight.”

“Pardon?”

“I saw you. Quick as a spear darting out of the woods like that. And your aim was good. I do not wish to be a marksman, but my instincts tell me that sparring with you will make me a better fighter for tonight.”

Woodrow stared at her. It was like Ryne all over again. What is with people now asking him to help them fight?

“There is no way I will best Harlan in single combat of strength. But maybe I can beat him in other ways, like speed or agility. I must prove to them all that I can beat the strongest of them.”

Woodrow saw the determination in her eyes. The village of Kent is a warrior’s community, he thought. Is this the reason why Woodrow was sent here? To train the late elder’s daughter? For the right to rule? No, there must be something more.

Woodrow had realized where they were a few steps off from the village border. The seclusion of the dark trees waited for them. Woodrow nodded and nudged Agate to lead the way. Once they had found a clearing, Woodrow took a few steps back and faced her.

“Show me what you know. Which weapons will you use for this combat?”

“Poles.”

Agate drew from behind a tree two long wooden sticks. Woodrow raised his eyes at her, wondering if she hid weapons all over the boundary of the village. Once Woodrow caught his weapon, they circled each other. Woodrow let Agate close the distance and blocked her strike. When Agate slid underneath to swipe at Woodrow’s feet, he leaped and struck her from behind.

“That is my favorite move. Who taught you how to fight?”

“Papa when he was stronger. And some of his friends.”

“Did he teach Harlan as well?” Woodrow asked. When Agate nodded, he said, “Then don’t do the things he would expect. Surprise him a little,” Woodrow said. As he did, he sidestepped and bumped Agate’s shoulder. In the confusion, he knocked her knuckles with her pole, making her drop it. Before it fell on the ground, Woodrow brought it back to her hand using his own pole.

“I feel he likes you. Catch him by surprise. Flirt with him as you fight. Then strike his chest and torso.” Woodrow meant it as a joke, but Agate punched him in the chest. Woodrow sucked in a breath and raised his pole to strike.

They bumped into each other. It was not like Claude who was clumsy. Agate knew what she was doing. Her steps were sure and her lunges were precise. The only problem was their size.

“You’re trying to disarm him. You can’t. He’s built bigger and stronger than you. Putting you in close quarters will only allow him to take your weapon from you. Is he quick?”

“No. He’s strong.”

“Good. You have the advantage on that one. You’re much lighter than he is. You were right in taking advantage of your agility. Keep running around him and defend yourself from his attacks and once you feel him breathing heavily, hit him in the thighs or knees and watch him fall. Does he have any weaknesses?”

“I haven’t checked to look. We’ve always been fighting off bandits, but my eyes were on the enemy, not him.” Agate’s eyes were fierce. “There’s another thing you should know about the outcome of this challenge. If he wins, I marry him. That was the condition he set. Of all the stupid things! He could have said to the others to respect my authority if he truly cared. But, no, he had to be all stupid about it.”

Agate fumed and she came for Woodrow with her pole, using it as a sword. Woodrow parried with ease. He backed away, baiting Agate as she struck, and when he felt a tree behind him, he sidestepped and tripped Agate. Her arms flailed as she tried to grab the tree, but Woodrow grabbed her tunic and helped her up.

“You will lose if you do not control your temper,” Woodrow said as he released her.

Agate blew out the hair plastered on her cheeks in frustration. She nodded and breathed to calm the embers within her. But just as they raised their poles to spar once more, they heard rustling near them.

A scout was sent, the nervous one from before. “The feast is about to begin,” the scout said and was dismissed, stealing another glance at Woodrow. When Agate returned the poles to the back of the tree, Woodrow saw her hand twitch. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath from her lips.

Her voice shook a little. “Thank you, Brother. Now pray to the Saints that I win.”