Realm of Monsters

Chapter 600: Veres & Goldelm Part 1

  Stryg examined the blood flecks on his fingers as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Wenna finally caught a clear view of his ring and a terrifying chill ran through her body as she recognized the sigil of House Veres.

  She didn’t need to see underneath the hood of his cloak to know who sat in front of her. Why in all the bloody Realms was the Lord of House Veres at her family’s small tavern in the Commoner District of all places, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she could not risk angering the most dangerous man in the city.

  Wenna forced herself to smile and carefully stepped over the two bodies on the ground. Were Letty and the drunk man who came to her aid even alive? She didn’t know, but she didn’t dare check on them. 

  “A-A-Another drink, my lord— I mean, s-s-sir!?” Wenna cursed her own ineptitude. If he wanted others to know his identity he wouldn’t be wearing a damn cloak. 

  Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice her slip-up. His attention was on the half a dozen men striding up to the bar.

  “Hey, bastard. Get up, now,” said one of the men. A regular. Jon. He was large for a human. Taller than most drows with shoulders almost twice as wide. A soldier employed by House Helene. People listened to him. He watched out for the patrons and stopped any fights that started in exchange for free drinks every once in a while.

  “Jon, wait—!” Wenna yelled frantically.

  But Jon wasn’t listening. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Get up. Let’s settle this outside. I won’t say it again.”

  Stryg sighed and put his fork down. “If you draw that sword you will die. And so will the rest of your tribemates. I’d rather eat my food in peace.”

  “Peace?” Jon scoffed. “I think you gave up that choice when you killed two people.”

  Stryg cocked his head to the side, his floppy pointy ear poking out from his hood. “They’re not dead. Their heartbeats are steady enough.”

  “Lucky them.”

  “Is that sarcasm?” Stryg asked honestly. He didn’t usually spare those who threatened him. All things considered, those two got off easy, but the way the human spoke made Stryg think he disagreed. “Look, if you don’t want to die, leave me be. I won’t say it again.”

  “You won’t say it again?” Jon’s eye twitched. “I don’t know what rich merchant family you come from, but down here in the ‘poor’ District, we don’t take well to little shits who think they can command us. Now you’re getting up and we’re taking a walk outside.”

  Wenna didn’t know what to do. She ran to the kitchen to find her parents. The crowd of onlookers watched with quiet whispers, wondering which party would break first. When Stryg picked up his fork and kept eating it was Jon who spoke up, “So be it.” He drew the sword from his sheathe and—

  Gale stepped up silently from behind Jon and slit his throat with a dagger. He clenched his neck and tried to gasp for air, but only a gurgle escaped his bloody lips. Before his body dropped to the ground, Gale was on top of the others. Her sword lashed out in four quick strikes. The four other men collapsed, clutching at their throats. The last man stood still, pale with fear. He was the only one who hadn’t reacted. Gale watched him, waiting to see if he would.

  The tavern was deathly silent. They were used to seeing bar fights and people lying dead on the floor by the end. No one who lived in Hollow Shade was a stranger to death for long. But this wasn’t a fight. It was instant. They didn’t know how to react and none dared to be the first to move.

  Stryg sipped his tankard of ale. “I warned you,” he muttered.

  “Stop! Please, stop!” The tavern master rushed out of the kitchen and waved his arms like a madman.

  Gale eyed him and shifted her stance. The tavern master rushed to a halt and quickly took in the situation, his eyes lingering on the cloaked vampiress and the man sitting at the bar. The master swallowed hard and bowed as low as he could, “Please, I meant no offense. I am but a humble man trying to run a small family tavern, nothing more.”

  “Are these men yours?” Gale asked calmly and gestured with her sword to the men writhing on the floor in pools of their own blood.

  “They are regulars, but I do not control them. I swear we did not mean to attack you, or your charge. Honest, I swear to Stjerne himself.”

  “And this one?” Gale glanced at Jon’s last standing man.

  He was young, hardly a man, really. “I-I don’t want to fight. Please, don’t kill me,” he said shakily. 

  Gale walked up to the young man, looked him in the eyes, and wiped the blood off her sword with his shirt. “If you come back here and even look at the man at the bar I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  He nodded repeatedly, eyes wide with fear.

  Her sword now clean, she sheathed it and wiped her dagger along his shoulder. “Good. Run along.”

  The man stumbled away and ran out of the tavern as fast as he could.

  “Thank you,” the tavern master bowed to Gale. “Wenna, go fetch some hands to help carry the bodies out.”

  “Yes, Father.” Wenna nodded and rushed off.

  The tavern master looked around and threw his hands up, “Everyone’s next round is on me!”

  The room broke into cheers and held their mugs up high. And just like that the tension was broken, but it didn’t stop people from casting uneasy glances towards the bar.

  “Forgive me for the trouble earlier,” said the tavern master as he walked up to the bar. “Your meal and drinks are free of charge tonight. If there is anything else I can help with just let me know. Lorcan is my name.”

  “Could I get another drink? Oh, and one for my friend here?” asked Stryg.

  “Right away, sir.” Lorcan was already on the move before he finished speaking.

  Gale sighed and leaned on the bar, right next to Stryg. “So much for being a covert meeting.”

  “It couldn’t be helped.” Stryg shrugged.

  “Couldn’t be helped?” She frowned. “You literally smashed a woman’s head into the bar. You know she’s dead, right?”

  “She’s still breathing.”

  “For now. Without a healer, she won’t make it to sunrise and if she somehow does survive, then she’ll wish she hadn’t. You fucked her up worse than a hammer to her face.”

  “She tried to kill me. She’s lucky I didn’t tear out her throat.”

  “Tried to kill—? No, she didn’t!”

  Stryg gave Gale a flat look. “She was reaching for my neck.”

  “No, you bumpkin, she was touching your shoulders, like a caress!”

  Stryg furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “She was flirting with you!”

  He blinked. “Oh. So, I just—?”

  “Yup.”

  “And she was just—?”

  “Yup.”

  “...I see. She was pretty.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What about the drunk guy?”

  “Oh no, he definitely wanted to hurt you. I’d have cut him down if you hadn’t taken care of him first. Then again, he was just trying to protect the girl you just beat the shit out of.”

  “Fair. I guess tonight could have gone better.”

  “You think?” Gale groaned. “This is why I keep insisting you take those etiquette classes.”

  “I hate those classes. I already had to deal with those when I was studying under Elzri. They all seemed so pointless.”

  “They’re not. You know, for all your magical genius, why is it that you can’t understand some of the most basic social interactions?”

  “I understand social traditions just fine.”

  “Interactions,” she corrected. “And you’re telling me you didn’t have any problems communicating with your old tribe back in Vulture Woods?”

  “Of course not…” Stryg thought back on the countless ‘problems’ he had gotten himself into through the years growing up in the village. They had always thought of him as different. “It’s— difficult sometimes, trying to understand people. They just don’t really make sense to me, and I guess, I don’t make sense to them,” he admitted quietly.

  “Stryg…”

  “Do I seem strange to you?”

  Gale could see the vulnerability in his eyes and the fear of rejection. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re a godling, of course, you’re not normal. Not just your looks, your brain probably isn’t much like ours either. But that’s not a bad thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  “You could still stand to learn some basic etiquette though. Like not biting someone’s face off for eating your food.”

  “Stealing someone’s food deserves death, only a weak goblin would let it happen to them,” he growled.

  “See? That’s exactly what I mean. There’s no middle ground for you.”

  “I let Kamilo have some of my food. He’s always reaching for my dessert.”

  Gale smirked at the thought. “Right, Kamilo is the exception to the rule. How is our baby nephew, anyway?”

  “He’s doing well. As strong as any baby I’ve met. He’ll be a strong warrior someday. Nora and Kamilo visit the manor often. You should spend more time with us.”

  “I wish I could. But believe it or not, I have more duties than just being your Shadow. Uncle Gian and I are trying to make your transition into Lord of House Veres as smooth as possible. There are plenty of lesser lords of our vassal Houses that aren’t happy with a hybrid sitting upon the Veres throne.”

  “Stryga was a hybrid.”

  “And the Veres’ main family died out not long after. Your vassals worry a similar fate might follow.” 

  “It won’t,” he said, an edge to his voice.

  “I know. We’ll just have to show them, one day at a time.”

  A small cloaked figure pushed through the crowds and hopped onto the empty bar stool next to Stryg. “Do the bodies I just passed by in the doorway have anything to do with you?”

  Stryg swirled around and grinned. “Good to see you, Freya. And no. Gale killed them.”

  Freya cocked an eyebrow. “On your orders?”

  “No.”

  “For his protection,” Gale corrected. “He hurt a woman pretty badly. Everything else sort of just followed.”

  “Let me guess, she tried eating his food?”

  “Worse, she flirted with him,” Gale chuckled.

  Freya winced dramatically. “Oof. At least she didn’t insult the Sylvan people.” Freya had personally been on the receiving end of Stryg’s anger for that one. Not a pleasant memory.

  “I’ll go heal her in a bit,” Stryg grumbled.

  Lorcan returned with the drinks and placed them on the bar. “Anything else I can help you with, sir?”

  “No, we're fine, thanks,” said Stryg.

  “If you need anything, just ask,” he bowed and left.

  Freya grabbed one of the mugs and sipped at the ale. She grimaced at the taste, “This is horrible.”

  “Yeah, I keep hoping if I drink enough of it I’ll get at least a bit drunk.”

  “Any luck?” Freya asked.

  “None,” he sighed.

  Freya slid the tankard away. “Next time we meet I’ll bring you one of the bottles from my family’s wine cellar. You’ll get drunk with only a cup or two.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” he said wryly.

  “You’re on,” she grinned, but it quickly faded into a somber expression. “...Thanks for meeting up like this.”

  “Well, when a tribe mate calls, the tribe answers,” Stryg said matter-of-factly. “So, what’s up with all the secrecy anyway?”

  Freya fiddled with the edge of her cloak. “I… I don’t know where to start. I, uh,” she took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “I need your help.”

  Stryg nodded. “Right. Who do I need to kill?”