Chapter 29 — Horror Hounds (Part II)

“Are you all steading nearby?” Joric’s muscled father, Marton, asked between bites of jungle boar and pan-fried tubers. Behind him, coals smoldered in the hearth from cooking the meal, chasing away the evening humidity and leaving the room toasty but not uncomfortably so—thanks to their armor and packs having been stowed in the provided guest rooms.

“We’re reclaiming a tavi grove about a day’s walk from here along the way to Mistmire.” Toren wasn’t thrilled with revealing the location to people in tier-2, but he would need allies to survive the jungle, and not taking advantage of the couple’s knowledge would be stupid.

“Tavi? Levish’s place?” Marton’s tier-2 wife, Bessimi, asked sharply with concern.

Marton’s gaze sized-up his soft-seaming guests. “Last I heard, the house and surrounding area were overrun with drain worms and zoots. Are you folks really going to be okay?”

Four unsure pairs of eyes belonging to a family of formerly [Haberdashers] turned Toren’s way, and the rest of the eyes at the table soon followed. Not just Joric, but his two older brothers, younger sister, and a youngish tenant couple with a newborn that were also sharing the table—all conversation having stopped. Baby Arn started to cry but was quickly calmed by his mother.

The steaders all knew something. That didn’t bode well at all.

“How bad is ‘overrun’?” Toren slowly asked, a growing worry making the previously flavorful and juicy boar meat sit heavy in his stomach like forge slag. “[Alchemist] Nalrevin sold us what we need for dealing with the drain worms and their expected evolutions.”

The patriarch of the self-named Marton’s Farmstead took hold of his goblet of farm-distilled mash and gazed down into the cloudy liquid within. “Hard to say for sure. For the zoots, could be tens if you’re lucky, but I suspect maybe a hundred or so with multiple packs ranging out from a nearby nest or lair of some kind. If it had been a single pack, not only would the wards have held and Levish and Milly have chased them off, but someone would have successfully cleared the property by now, even if just for the credits.”

Emina gasped at the suspected numbers and Warnel’s face was draining of color. Laiya and Falma didn’t look much better.

That was troublesome news… but if he was embracing this whole [Berserker] thing, it might also be perfect for both quick credits and levels—not just for him, for Warnel and the man’s family. Except… the family of four would undoubtedly be more liability than help until he could toughen them up.

“I see,” Toren said while thinking, keeping the silence from further damaging his group's morale. “The reward for even the alphas is only 2 credits. How difficult is it to fight and cull these zoots? Will we need enchanted armors and weapons?”

After swallowing a mouthful of the unfiltered liquid, Marton set the goblet back down and fixed him with a serious gaze. “They are not particularly sturdy, but the danger comes in the way the little bastards love to slash exposed skin and wound in ways that bleed or cause panic—interior of the leg, eyes, crook of the arm, underside of the chin and sides of the neck. The larger ones have claws and talons that can cut through lightly enchanted hide, and slashing Abilities causing bleeding status afflictions are not uncommon.

“As I’m sure you’ve already heard, their [Camouflage] Ability can make it difficult to know how many you are dealing with or where and when an attack will come from. Really, at your strength, without metal armor and a way to know their locations, it might be suicide.”

“Suicide…” Warnel unhappily muttered under his breath, and Emina was clinging to her husband’s arm.

The woman eyed Toren and whispered, “Are we really doing this?”

Laiya reached over and rubbed her mother’s shoulder and back to comfort her. “It’s not as if the town is any safer.”

Falma grimaced at her sister’s blunt evaluation of their situation.

The tenant couple also grimaced, and Safira seemed to grip her son tighter as she nursed the boy.

The older boys looked like they wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say.

Toren turned his attention back to Marton and his wife. Good thing Warnel was willing to shell out enough funds to buy himself and Laiya decent helms and nice sets of brigandine with its interior plating. Glad he’d pushed for the expenditure, he nodded to himself and brought up one of his key worries, “Can the zoots hide from [Mana Sensing]?”

The veteran steader had a prompt answer, “They cannot. At least, not that I’ve encountered. Harthol?”

The eldest of the boys, around Toren’s age if he had to guess, glanced at Laiya who he had been trying to impress earlier and sat up straight as he spoke, “No, even deeper in the jungle, I’ve yet to have any get by the hounds’ notice.”

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Oh? It was good to get the method of sensing used by the hounds confirmed. Made sense with them being eyeless.

Some good news at least, even if there was another worry the information from Marton brought. A gathering of large packs usually indicated the presence of a powerful monster leading them. Dealing with packs of tier-1 beasts was worlds apart from dealing with a tier-2 while harried and swarmed by tier-1’s.

“On the way here, your hounds didn’t have much problem with the jungle’s tier-1 beasts present near the road, but what do steads here normally do when a tier-2 threat shows up?” Toren asked. The tier-2 husband and wife pair had undoubtedly managed it, or he suspected they would have been long overrun by now rather than living what looked to be a mostly content and self-sufficient life.

“Enchanted arrows and repelling wards are the approach taken by most. The claim-stakes let us signal an emergency back to the Farharbor guard, of course, but you’ve gotta survive until help arrives.” Marton’s warm gaze went to the large tier-2 hound laying by the fire, lazily gnawing a bone. “Big Brute here, though he doesn’t have many years left in him, has proved his worth to that end more times than I can count.”

“He is impressive,” Warnel admitted, eyeing the terrifying beast with some trepidation but also maybe a glimmer of hope.

“That he is,” Marton proudly agreed and motioned toward his eldest son. “Harthol takes groups of the hounds out to proactively hunt the area and raise their Skills, Ablilities, and levels. Hopefully, we’ll have another of the studs reach tier-2 soon.”

Bessimi frowned. “I really wish you all would reconsider this and sign on with an existing stead, but if you’re determined to see it out, you should at least purchase a pair of hounds. I wouldn’t feel right having you leave here without some protection from zoot ambushes. Especially with such beautiful daughters.”

Both girls blushed at the complement.

Toren looked Warnel’s way and gave him a slight nod, and the man seemed to get his meaning, asking, “I’m sure we would be safer with hounds around, but isn’t taking care of them a lot of work? Requiring a specialized Profession?”

“Well, that’s not wrong if you want to get the best performance out of them. But our hounds are well-trained, and it wouldn’t take long to teach you what you’d need to do for their care. We can even assist with unlocking related skills,” Marton’s wife offered.

“Skills unlocking?” Emina asked, surprised, and Falma’s eager eyes glanced from her mother and father and back to the powerful steader’s wife.

Warnel noticed it, too.

Back in Greenvale, many paid good money to get skills unlocked by an expert, especially known sets of skills needed to unlock a desired Profession.

Toren couldn’t help a faint smile and decided to give a gentle push. “I wonder if things would have gone differently for me if I had sought a companion beast when I was a teen and had someone teach me the Skills? Feeding a companion would’ve been less meat to sell, so hunting alongside one wasn’t something I looked into that much at the time,” he mused with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Sadly, I’m already full on Skills and raising and taking care of beasts would be rather outside my Skill set. I imagine Warnel and Emina are in a similar situation. Maybe it’s something Falma wants to learn?”

“Not Laiya?” the middle brother, Korta, asked, winking in Laiya’s direction as the mood at the table was improving again.

“I’m training to become a [Reaver],” Laiya volunteered.

“Really?” Harthol asked, blinking in surprise. “As in those scary black-cloak-wearing Eshem`Zel cult assassins?”

Korta looked no less shocked.

“And your mother and father are okay with that?” Iresmi, the younger sister, incredulously blurted out.

“No, her mother is not ‘okay’ with it,” Emina huffed and glared at Warnel. “What were you thinking promising our daughter to them? Promising our daughter to be a killer?”

“I don’t mind, Mother,” Laiya stated firmly, her gaze down.

Another awkward silence settled over the table until it was broken by Joric rescuing his brothers, “I wouldn’t mind showing Falma the kennels and teaching her about how to care for the hounds.”

“I’d like to!” Falma energetically interjected before the opportunity got derailed, then looked nervously at her mom and dad. “If it is okay?”

The girl’s parents exchanged a look, and with a nod from Emina, Warnel gave his permission, “Make sure to pay attention, unlocking new skills could broaden your Profession choices.”

Joric glanced Laiya’s direction and added, “Laiya, too, if she wants.”

Laiya smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, Joric, but I need to use the time to practice my weapons.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Horthal smacked a fist into his palm. “Dad always says it’s important to train after eating meat! Korta and I could help with that?”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, Toren would have laughed at the blank stare Laiya gave the boy. “It’s not a bad idea, since the boys have experience fighting in this jungle. I’ll leave the decision on the hounds to Warnel. But maybe more important than that, it does sound that we could benefit from hiring some extra capable hands to help clear the place…”

Breaths were held around the table, and Marton held Toren’s gaze for several heartbeats before flicking to Warnel’s girls and his boys then sighing. “What you’re planning is more dangerous than I’d like, but Horthal and Korta are grown. The boys can decide on their own. It would be good to have new and trustworthy neighbors that could be called on in times of need.”

The brothers all shared excited grins.

Bessimi groaned and sent hooded eyes her husband’s way. “Really, Marton?”

The younger sister’s eyes widened and, after conflicted glances at Falma and Laiya, she leaned past her forehead-rubbing mother to add her own concern, “Father, are Korta and Horthal going when it’s as dangerous as you’ve said?”

“Iresmi, sometimes a man has to decide what’s important to him and take a risk. Your mother and I have taught them how to recognize when a situation is too dangerous for them to handle, and I have every expectation that they will prioritize everyone’s safety. You boys following the tracks I’m dropping? Korta? Horthal?”

Each boy nodded firmly when addressed.

“We’ll be careful, dad,” Horthal verbally affirmed.

“What about me, father?” Joric asked, looking hopeful.

“Don’t worry we’ll protect Falma for you, Joric,” Korta teased, clapping his younger brother on the back, and both Joric and Falma turned away blushing.

Marton joined the older boys’ laughter before leaning forward with a return to his earlier serious expression. “Looks like we have a lot to negotiate.”

Toren took a long pull on the bitter ale-like drink, swallowed, and let out a breath, half his mouth raising in a crooked smile. His gut told him this would be a negotiation that would determine the success or failure for his second tavi grove gamble.