Chapter 11: Goldmane

The next morning began with an almost insulting amount of normalcy.

After everything that had happened recently, I had started developing trust issues with peaceful mornings.

Sunlight came over the hills.

Smoke drifted from chimneys.

Children ran between houses.

Someone was already arguing with a chicken.

The universe looked me directly in the eyes and said, See? Nothing horrible is about to happen.

Which, historically, was exactly when something horrible happened.

Still, I ignored the suspicion.

Silverclaw had survived the Hyenakin attack, but several parts of the village barricade still needed reinforcement. So after breakfast, I joined Gran, Kol, and several others near the northern edge to finish replacing the damaged sections.

It felt strangely ordinary.

I carried timber.

Held beams in place.

Hammered wooden supports.

Listened to Gran complain about his back despite being strong enough to carry half a tree.

The same hands that had recently copied a monster's charge and removed Agrus's head were now fastening planks together.

A versatile résumé.

Clyr spent most of the morning handling village matters, occasionally passing close enough for our eyes to meet.

Every time that happened, I remembered the river.

Very professionally.

Then she would look away and continue being Chief Clyr, responsible leader of Silverclaw, definitely not the woman whose private behavior had permanently changed my understanding of Wolfkin flexibility.

I behaved.

Mostly.

By midday, the final damaged section of the barricade was almost finished.

Gran stepped back and inspected our work.

"That should hold."

I rested the hammer against my shoulder.

"Beautiful."

Kol looked at the uneven planks.

"Beautiful?"

"Beauty is subjective."

Gran slapped one of the supports.

It remained upright.

"Strong enough."

"See? Structural beauty."

Kol shook his head.

"You compliment everything you help build."

"I believe in supporting my children."

Then I heard something.

A distant rumble.

I frowned.

Gran's ears moved first.

Kol's did the same.

Every Wolfkin nearby stopped working.

That was when I realized the sound wasn't thunder.

Hooves.

Many of them.

Fast.

Coming from the forest.

My hand dropped from the hammer.

"Please tell me that's a traveling horse choir."

Gran stared toward the trees.

"No."

"Of course not."

The sound grew rapidly louder.

Branches shifted beyond the barricade.

Birds burst from the treetops.

Villagers began gathering, faces tense.

Considering our most recent unannounced visitors had attempted mass slavery, Silverclaw's enthusiasm toward unexpected guests was understandably limited.

Someone ran to alert Clyr.

The rest of us moved away from the barricade.

I considered grabbing a weapon.

Before I made the decision, the riders appeared.

They came through the forest in formation.

Not raiders.

Definitely not merchants.

Knights.

Actual knights.

The kind of knights fantasy stories used whenever they wanted everybody to immediately understand that someone with government funding had arrived.

There were perhaps a dozen of them.

Most wore polished silver armor that caught the sunlight between the trees. Golden insignias decorated their breastplates, each shaped like a roaring lion.

Their horses were enormous.

Armored too.

Because apparently normal horses had reviewed the situation and demanded personal protection.

The riders passed through the village entrance without drawing weapons.

That was polite.

Still alarming.

Villagers stepped aside as the group entered Silverclaw.

The knights stopped near the village center.

Then I noticed the rider at their front.

Different armor.

Gold.

Not decorative pieces attached to silver.

Full golden armor.

The metal gleamed beneath the afternoon sun so brightly that stealth had clearly been removed from this knight's professional responsibilities.

The same lion symbol covered the knight's chest.

Larger.

More elaborate.

Important person.

Very important person.

The sort of person whose armor entered the room several seconds before their personality.

Clyr emerged from her house.

She walked quickly toward the riders.

I followed and stopped beside her.

Normally, Clyr handled outsiders with confidence.

This time, something changed in her expression the moment she saw the golden knight.

Surprise.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Interesting.

Whoever this knight was, Clyr knew them.

More importantly, Clyr apparently believed they mattered.

The golden knight swung down from their horse.

They landed with the irritating elegance of someone who had practiced getting off horses until even gravity knew the choreography.

Then she removed her helmet.

Long golden hair spilled free.

And I understood the lion symbols immediately.

Lion ears rose from the top of her head.

Golden, matching her hair.

Behind her armor, a long lion tail moved slowly.

Another Beastkin race.

Lionkin, presumably.

If these people were called Hamsterkin instead, I was going to file a formal complaint about naming conventions.

The woman's face was striking.

Beautiful, technically.

But strict.

Her expression looked like smiling required written authorization from three superior officers.

Sharp golden-brown eyes moved across the village.

Then they landed on me.

And stayed.

Oh.

I knew that look.

That was not random curiosity.

That was someone arriving at a restaurant and seeing the reservation already sitting at the table.

Clyr stepped forward.

Her voice became formal.

"Lord Commander Nemris."

The woman finally looked toward her.

Clyr inclined her head respectfully.

"What brings the Lord Commander of Inizio's Knights Order to Silverclaw?"

Lord Commander.

Right.

Definitely important.

Somewhere in my mental hierarchy, she had just moved from Shiny Knight to Shiny Knight Who Could Probably Have Me Legally Arrested.

Nemris did not answer immediately.

Her attention returned to me.

She studied my clothes.

My face.

My posture.

Possibly every bad decision I had made since birth.

Her expression suggested she remained unimpressed.

Then she said, "We came under direct instruction from Great Sage Zeria."

The villagers murmured.

Clyr's posture changed slightly.

Apparently that name mattered too.

Great Sage.

Excellent.

Fantasy bingo was filling rapidly.

We had Beastkin.

Spriggans.

Magic.

Monsters.

Knights.

Now Great Sage.

I only needed a demon king and an irresponsibly attractive elf to complete the premium package.

Nemris walked toward me.

Her armored boots struck the earth with measured steps.

When she stopped, she looked directly into my eyes.

Then she addressed the village.

"For those who require an introduction, I am Nemris Goldmane, Lord Commander of the Knights Order serving the Kingdom of Inizio."

I almost looked around.

For those who require an introduction.

There was exactly one person here who required that introduction.

Me.

Everyone else looked like they would recognize her from three villages away based entirely on the armor budget.

I gave her a small nod.

"Nice armor."

Clyr's eyes closed briefly.

Nemris stared at me.

"Thank you."

That sounded like nobody had ever complimented it casually before.

Glad to contribute culturally.

Clyr intervened before I could improve diplomatic relations further.

"What does Great Sage Zeria want with Silverclaw?"

Nemris's gaze stayed on me.

"Not Silverclaw."

Ah.

There it was.

"Several days ago, the Great Sage received a vision."

Nobody moved.

Even I listened carefully now.

Nemris continued.

"She witnessed someone arriving in this region from the heavens."

My stomach tightened slightly.

Excuse me?

"In her vision," Nemris said, "a Spriggan descended from the sky."

I blinked.

That sounded suspiciously familiar.

"Yet the figure did not fly."

Nemris's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"The Sage said the Spriggan rested upon what appeared to be an enormous hand."

I stared.

Giant hand.

Nobody had mentioned a giant hand.

I had simply woken up in grass.

Apparently my arrival had included special effects while I was unconscious.

Fantastic.

Would have enjoyed seeing my own supernatural delivery.

Nemris continued.

"The hand lowered the Spriggan safely into these lands, then vanished."

Her expression remained stern.

"Great Sage Zeria believes the hand belonged to a divine being."

Silence.

Okay.

That escalated quickly.

I had spent several days assuming my situation involved reincarnation, dimensional displacement, cosmic clerical error, or perhaps death accidentally sending me to the wrong address.

Now apparently a god might have personally delivered me like premium shipping.

Everyone looked at me.

Not some villagers.

Not most villagers.

Everyone.

Gran.

Kol.

Clyr.

Children.

Old people.

The blacksmith.

Even one woman carrying vegetables had stopped mid-step.

I stared back.

"What?"

Nobody answered.

Right.

Because they knew something Nemris did not.

I wasn't a Spriggan.

Every Wolfkin here had seen my bare back after the battle.

No wing markings.

Nothing.

They knew I was human.

Nemris did not.

Great Sage Zeria apparently did not either.

According to the vision, she had identified me as a Spriggan.

That gave Silverclaw a very interesting collective responsibility.

Keep quiet.

To their credit, nobody said a word.

Not one accidental gasp.

Not one child loudly announcing, "But Caled isn't a Spriggan!"

I had never been prouder of an entire village's ability to participate in conspiracy.

I wasn't ready to correct Nemris.

Not yet.

I knew absolutely nothing about these knights.

I knew nothing about Great Sage Zeria.

And announcing that I belonged to a supposedly extinct race seemed like information best saved until I understood whether the person receiving it carried research equipment or execution orders.

Nemris stopped directly in front of me.

"Tell me your name, Spriggan."

Something strange happened with her words.

Or rather, nothing strange happened.

I understood them perfectly.

But there was a subtle sensation beneath the meaning.

Different.

Like the invisible translator inside my head had shifted gears without informing me.

"My name is Caled Morningwood."

Nemris's brows rose.

Then her expression changed.

Not much.

Just enough that she seemed satisfied about something.

"Azalean."

I blinked.

"Excuse me?"

She nodded to herself.

"That explains your presence better than expected."

I looked at Clyr.

Please translate the translation.

Clyr leaned slightly toward me.

Her voice dropped low enough that only someone with Wolfkin hearing, Lionkin hearing, or shameless eavesdropping skills would catch it.

"She spoke Azalean."

I stared at her.

Clyr continued, "You answered her in Azalean."

I slowly looked back at Nemris.

Oh.

Oh, that was interesting.

Azalean.

I had never heard that word before in my life.

Yet Nemris's language had sounded completely normal to me.

Not translated after the fact.

Not changed.

I had simply understood it.

And when I answered, apparently my mouth had produced Azalean without consulting management.

My automatic translation ability was becoming less "convenient language feature" and more "deeply invasive miracle living behind my teeth."

I whispered to Clyr, "Did my voice sound different?"

"No."

"Useful."

"Apparently you speak it perfectly."

"I don't speak it at all."

She gave me a look.

"You just did."

"That is becoming a recurring problem with my abilities."

Nemris continued, unaware of the small existential crisis happening directly in front of her.

"Azalea is the nearest significant Spriggan territory to this region. I had wondered why the Great Sage insisted you may have come from somewhere extremely distant."

Ah.

So my mysterious divine arrival had just received a convenient local explanation.

Spriggan from neighboring Spriggan territory.

Simple.

Reasonable.

Incorrect enough to be impressive.

I decided not to repair it.

Nemris studied me again.

Honestly, I could see what she was thinking.

I did not look remarkable.

No glowing eyes.

No visible wings.

No ancient sword.

No majestic aura.

Just one reasonably attractive man wearing village clothes with an unfortunate surname.

If someone told me divine prophecy had sent me to retrieve that guy, I would also request a refund.

I crossed my arms.

"So what exactly does the Great Sage want from me?"

Nemris answered immediately.

"She wants you brought to the capital."

"Brought."

"Yes."

"That word has several levels of voluntary participation."

Clyr glanced at me.

Nemris did not appreciate the distinction.

"Great Sage Zeria is eager to meet the person from her vision."

"Eager?"

"Very."

Nemris said it like she personally found Zeria's enthusiasm unreasonable.

That told me something.

Nemris did not see anything special in me.

To her, I was apparently just a strange lone Spriggan who had somehow triggered a Sage's prophecy.

I tilted my head.

"And if I say no?"

The reaction was immediate.

Metal hissed.

Several knights drew their swords.

Not all the way toward me.

But enough.

Silver blades caught the light.

Villagers tensed.

Gran's hands curled into fists.

Kol shifted his stance.

Clyr's expression hardened.

I stared at the knights.

Then at Nemris.

"Ah."

Nemris's face remained perfectly calm.

"It was not an invitation in the sense you are implying."

"So less invitation, more kidnapping with excellent armor."

"You are being summoned."

"Kidnapping with paperwork."

One knight's grip tightened.

I felt that familiar readiness enter my body.

My senses sharpened.

Distances became important.

Weapons.

Positions.

Angles.

Nemris stood closest.

Two knights behind her.

Three to the right.

If this became violent, I could activate Berserker Aura.

Maybe take the sword from the nearest knight.

Maybe copy whatever combat abilities appeared.

Maybe.

That was the dangerous thing about my new abilities.

They were starting to give my stupidity confidence.

My weight shifted.

Clyr caught my forearm.

Not hard.

Just enough.

I looked at her.

She shook her head.

Once.

No.

Her eyes held mine.

Then she said softly, "Maybe this is the moment."

I frowned.

She did not need to explain.

The conversation from last night returned immediately.

You cannot stay here forever.

You need answers.

Travel.

Find yourself.

Apparently destiny had overheard us and decided subtlety was inefficient.

I looked around Silverclaw.

The villagers were watching.

These people had found me wandering through the hills with no understanding of their world.

They had fed me.

Sheltered me.

Worked beside me.

Accepted me before knowing what I was.

Then protected my secret after discovering it.

And now, strangely, they were smiling.

Not happily exactly.

Not because they wanted me gone.

The smiles looked encouraging.

The kind people gave when they already knew you were leaving before you had admitted it yourself.

Gran stepped forward.

He smiled.

"Looks like your journey is starting earlier than expected, my friend."

I stared at him.

"You sound much too pleased about armed strangers abducting me."

"They're royal knights."

"Government kidnapping is still kidnapping."

Gran laughed.

"Try seeing it as transportation."

"Very aggressive transportation."

Kol approached next.

His expression remained as serious as ever.

"Don't forget Silverclaw."

I looked at him.

"You think I could?"

"You forget names."

"Hyenakin's names. Completely different neurological department."

Kol actually smiled.

"When you meet people out there, tell them about us."

I nodded.

"I will."

That promise came easily.

Clyr released my arm.

Then she took both my hands.

Everything around us suddenly felt quieter.

The knights.

The villagers.

The horses.

All background noise.

She looked up at me.

No tears.

I appreciated that.

If she cried, there was a dangerous possibility I would do something catastrophically romantic, like start a war with the Kingdom of Inizio just to postpone leaving.

Clyr smiled.

"Take care of yourself."

I squeezed her hands.

"I will."

Her eyebrow rose.

"Actually take care of yourself."

"Oh."

"Don't pick fights with monsters because you want to learn their attacks."

"That happened once."

"Don't antagonize powerful people."

I glanced toward Nemris.

"Already failed."

"Caled."

"I'll try."

"Try harder."

"No promises."

She sighed.

Then smiled again.

That private smile.

The one nobody else really knew.

My Clyr smile.

She stepped closer.

Rose onto her toes.

And kissed me.

Right there in front of everyone.

No embarrassment.

No hesitation.

Her hands rested against my chest while mine settled around her waist.

The kiss was soft.

Nothing like the hungry kisses from the river.

Nothing like the night before.

This one was different.

A goodbye.

Not forever.

Maybe.

But still a goodbye.

I kissed her back.

Slowly.

When our lips separated, she stayed close for another moment.

Her eyes searched mine.

"I won't forget you."

The joke almost came automatically.

Something about being unforgettable.

Something arrogant.

Something easy.

I let it die.

"I won't forget you either."

Her ears gave one small twitch.

Then she stepped away.

I released her.

That was harder than expected.

One of the silver-armored knights moved his horse beside me.

He extended an arm.

"You'll ride with me."

I looked at the horse.

Then at him.

"I should warn you, my experience with horses is mostly theoretical."

He frowned beneath his helmet.

"What does that mean?"

"I know which end bites."

"Get on."

"Excellent lesson."

With some assistance and considerably less dignity than I would have preferred, I climbed onto the horse behind him.

I adjusted my position.

There was no saddle space designed for "prophecy passenger," so comfort seemed to have been sacrificed for destiny.

Nemris mounted her horse again.

The rest of the knights followed.

She glanced toward Clyr.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Chief Clyr."

Clyr gave a formal nod.

Then Nemris looked toward me.

"Hold securely."

I wrapped my hands where the knight in front instructed.

"How bad is the road?"

Nemris's lion ears twitched.

"Road?"

"Yes. I'm hoping the ride isn't too rough. I recently discovered I prefer having all my internal organs in their assigned locations."

Something shimmered beneath us.

I looked down.

Magic spread across the horse's body.

White light flowed along its sides.

I stopped talking.

The energy gathered.

Then enormous wings erupted from the horse.

Not feathered flesh.

Magic.

Bright white wings formed from concentrated light, extending outward on both sides.

I stared.

Every horse in the group did the same.

Silver-armored knights suddenly sat astride glowing winged horses.

The entire formation looked like a religious painting had received military funding.

I tightened my grip.

"Never mind."

The horse leaped.

My stomach remained on the ground.

The rest of me did not.

We shot upward.

Wind slammed into my face.

Silverclaw dropped beneath us at terrifying speed.

"SON OF A"

The rest of my sentence was stolen by airflow.

The horse climbed higher.

Trees shrank.

The village became smaller.

The hills spread outward in every direction.

I instinctively tightened my arms around the knight in front.

He glanced back.

"First flight?"

"Do I look emotionally prepared?"

He actually laughed.

Fantastic.

I had become entertainment again.

The magical wings beat once.

Then we accelerated.

Fast.

Ridiculously fast.

The wind roared around us.

My clothes snapped against my body.

My hair abandoned every concept of organization.

The forest below blurred into a massive green carpet.

I twisted around carefully.

Silverclaw was already far behind.

But I could still see it.

Tiny wooden houses.

The barricade we had repaired that morning.

The paths I had walked every day.

The house where I had slept.

The place where my second life had actually begun.

People stood in the center of the village.

Small figures now.

Several waved.

Gran.

Kol.

Others.

Then I found Clyr.

Even from this distance, I knew which one was her.

She stood slightly apart from the others.

Looking up.

One arm raised.

Waving.

And somehow, despite the distance, I could imagine her smile perfectly.

The same gentle smile from beneath the stars.

The same smile she had worn when telling me I needed to leave someday.

Turns out someday had terrible patience.

I kept watching.

The village became smaller.

Then smaller again.

The hills shifted beneath us.

Trees covered the view.

For one last second, I could still see Clyr.

Smiling.

Waving.

Then Silverclaw vanished behind the forest.

That was it.

Just like that.

My quiet life in the village was over.

No dramatic countdown.

No weeks of preparation.

No emotional packing montage.

One morning I was repairing a barricade.

A short while later, I was several hundred meters above the ground clinging to an armored stranger while a magical horse carried me toward people who apparently believed a god had dropped me out of the sky.

Life had become aggressively efficient.

I turned forward.

Far beyond the rolling forest and distant hills, somewhere I could not yet see, waited the capital.

Answers, maybe.

Trouble, almost certainly.

Statistically, I liked my chances.

Whatever happened next, Silverclaw was behind me now.

And I was on my way to the capital of the Kingdom of Inizio.