Everyone present was startled into silence by that roar; even Laville’s sobs ceased, and the atmosphere grew taut and still.

  With a grave expression, Lord Chanis pondered for a moment before speaking again:

  “What is that commoner’s full name?”

  “Glenn Nibankru,” Laville muttered.

  “Glenn Nibankru… Glenn Nibankru…” Chanis closed his eyes, as though dredging something up from memory.

  After a long pause, he opened them again, his face somewhat eased yet tinged with apprehension.

  “I must… I must write a letter. Yes, a letter.”

  To the bewilderment of all, Lord Chanis abandoned the commotion in the hall and strode straight toward his study.

  Lady Sophia was the first to recover. Casting a glance at her son, she turned to Baber.

  “Baber, go and investigate this Bayek Town.”

  “As you command, my lady.”

  The knight bowed and departed.

  Laville, still dazed, could not comprehend his father’s reaction. He turned to his mother.

  “Mother, aren’t you going to avenge me?”

  “Be patient, my poor child. You shall have satisfaction in the end.” Sophia stroked his swollen cheek, her tone gentle yet firm.

  Time trickled by, and outside the windows night had fallen completely.

  Just as Laville was about to drift into slumber, his father reappeared, holding a sealed letter which he handed to a waiting footman.

  “Deliver this to the Eastern Quarter of the capital, and place it in the hands of the postman there.”

  “At once, my lord?”

  “Yes, immediately! Go!” Chanis’s voice rose sharply.

  The servant, no longer daring to hesitate, vanished into the night.

  Sophia stepped forward softly, her voice edged with doubt.

  “Tell me, what is all this about?”

  Chanis held her gaze for a fleeting moment, then turned his eyes upon Laville before replying in a low tone:

  “Come inside. We shall speak there.”

  He led her into a nearby chamber, where he closed the door and said at once:

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  “Bayek Town is no ordinary place. It is home to madmen and monsters—creatures of terrible danger.”

  “Madmen? Monsters?” Sophia’s face blanched in alarm.

  “Yes.” Chanis drew a deep breath. “Ordinarily, such knowledge is reserved for the highest ranks of nobility. I should not know it myself, but I happen to have a friend well-versed in these matters. In conversation, he once spoke of a place within the kingdom of Zern, a cursed settlement called Bayek. Its denizens are so dreadful that even a dragon would not survive if it dared to stir trouble there. Perhaps he exaggerated—but even so, the danger is real enough.”

  Sophia covered her mouth in horror. That such a peril lay so near their estate, and she had never known!

  “Then what of this Glenn?” she asked anxiously.

  “For the moment, he need not concern us,” Chanis answered with steady voice. “My friend listed the names of the more notorious creatures and people within Bayek, and this Glenn was not among them. It is possible he is merely one of the weaker residents, perhaps some fool who purchased a house there without knowing what lurked around him.”

  Hearing this, Sophia’s heart eased somewhat. “So then… what now?”

  “I have written to that friend. We shall wait for his reply before we act further.”

  Thanks to Glenn’s warm and generous manner with customers—and the rich flavor of his black boar’s meat—his trade flourished once again when he returned to town with his cart.

  Yet families who could afford such meat were few, so the demand did not match the frenzy of his first sale. This he had anticipated. Even so, he managed to sell every cut before day’s end.

  Nearby, Im, another butcher, could only stare in fury, helpless to compete. Compared with Glenn’s business, his stall stood deserted, even when he dropped his prices to match.

  Two black boars had already brought Glenn a small fortune; he was, by now, a man of modest wealth.

  So for several days he ceased selling meat, instead using his earnings to refurbish his home—freshly painted walls, new furnishings, and more besides. He also built a simple pigpen in the forest beyond Bayek, land unclaimed by anyone.

  Everything went smoothly, which left Glenn faintly uneasy.

  Why has that noble brat not come to make trouble for me? Could something have happened? Nearly a week has passed…

  As he chopped the pigweed gathered from the forest, his mind wandered. He tossed the feed into the trough, where the black boars jostled and squealed to eat.

  It was morning, and Glenn planned to take another hog to Dood Town to sell. With enough savings, perhaps he might even study magic at the tower.

  He had heard that becoming a mage’s apprentice demanded immense wealth—an expense only merchants and nobles could endure. For him to earn such a sum through butchery seemed almost impossible.

  Would his lycan blood hinder him from learning magic? Glenn slaughtered a sturdy boar, hefted it onto his cart, and set off.

  “Guard the pen. Don’t wander.” He waved to the beast that watched him depart.

  The creature threw back its head and howled in assent.

  Far down the road, two figures walked side by side, conversing quietly.

  Them again? Glenn slowed his step, his eyes narrowing.

  It was the pair of puppets: one a round-headed stick-figure clad in a blue vest; the other a remarkably humanlike doll—a woman in a pale pink dress, parasol in hand, her features so finely carved that from afar she seemed flesh and blood.

  This was not their first encounter. He had glimpsed them several times on his way between home and pigpen. What they wandered about for, he could not guess.

  Still, in Bayek it was unspoken custom not to trouble oneself with neighbors. Unless one grew close, greetings were unnecessary. Glenn himself only exchanged words with the black crow and the old man.

  The puppets fell silent when they saw him. As they passed, each glanced sidelong at the other.

  Once Glenn’s figure had receded, Aina asked curiously:

  “Parindes, where do you think he’s taking that thing?”

  “Plainly he’s a butcher. Likely to market,” Parindes replied coolly.

  “But where?”

  “How should I know?” he said dismissively.

  Aina turned her head to watch the fading silhouette. “Shall we follow and see?”

  “Absolutely not!” Parindes’s voice grew sharp. “We cannot afford to show ourselves to more eyes. It would place us in grave peril!”

  Aina opened her mouth to argue, but meeting her brother’s stern gaze—at least she thought it stern—she chose to yield.