Feral: Chapter Five

I had an odd dream that night. I was making armor. But the armor seemed to explode everytime I made it. And as I did so, a knife came closer and closer to my neck. The knife didn’t scare me as much as the bright blue circle in the distance.

It wasn’t a nightmare, just very odd.

What truly scared me was when I woke up to see the face of Mountain the dog smiling happily at me from the right side of the bed

“Planes of existence!” I fell off the bed. 115 kilograms of half-orc slamming into the floor made a noise that echoed for a moment. As I lay there, Mountain strode
around the bed to look down at me. I stared up at him, my tusks pulling at my lips as I tried to figure out what had just happened.

“What,” I asked at last, “were you deciding if I was worth eating or not?”

I found myself gaping in shock when Mountain shook his head from side to side.

“D-Did you just—?” I shook my ownhead, trying to shake off the bleariness. “You understand me?”

Mountain barked happily.

“…Sapient dogs,” I mused, trying to understand when my life had become so strange.

The door opened. I poked my head up from the floor to see around Mountain, and he turned his head to look.

“Char!” Katya popped her head inside. “Are you ready? We’re headed back to your shop! The carriage and the guards are ready!”

I stared at her, calmly getting my thoughts back together with all the madness of the last minute.

“...Guards?”

------

Arthur and I watched as Richard spoke to a group of guards, his face stern.

“So… you aren’t dying then?” Arthur asked me in shock.

“I want two men on that rooftop with bows,” Richard declared. “Be ready to stop anyone who tries to attack from the back alleys. Six more block off that street, keep the shop as isolated as possible.”

“Not today,” I sighed. “Though I’m not so sure this is much better.”

The neighbors were staring from windows and shops as armored guards cordoned off the area, all in the name of the Prophesied Child’s safety. It was the most attention our street had ever gotten. It didn’t help that Mountain had come along, as massive as ever, doggy tongue panting as he looked around.

Richard stood tall, watching as the guards walked into their positions, then came over to us.

“I’ll need to go into your home,” said Richard as he rested his palm against his sword. “Make sure it’s safe. A guide to show me every inch of the house would be good as well.”

Arthur quirked his eyebrow, looking at me. I shrugged. What was I supposed to say, no? Apparently we were taking care of celebrity.

Taking my shrug as agreement, Arthur waved Richard in. The knight nodded, and entered with Arthur following. I watched them enter, then walked over to the carriage in front of the house. It was massive, covered in thick steel plates, more like a large metal boulder on wheels than a carriage. A guard eyed me carefully as I strode up. In the window of the carriage was a cloth drape blocking viewers from looking within. As I came up however, I noticed a pair of eyes looking at me from the corner of the window.

“I’d like to speak with her please,” I said to one of the guards around the carriage.

The guard I spoke to scowled.

“Let him in!” a cheery voice called.

He scowled harder, but nodded for me to pass.

When I stepped into the carriage, Katya was there, dressed in simple armor once more.

“Hey, Char!” she said cheerily. “Are we almost done?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not an expert on security measures. Richard is in the house now.”

“Oh, okay,” She looked outside again, eyes wide. “This is all so strange.”

“Does it happen every time you go outside?”

“Not at the Chapel. But this is only the second time I’ve been outside of it. Yesterday was the first time.”

I couldn’t help my surprise at that. Even I, with my orc genetics, apparently had more freedom than the Prophesied Child. Odd to think of things that way. Here she was, famed throughout the world. The most beloved person in the city. We couldn’t be more opposite. But I felt no envy, no jealousy.

“Well… would you like me to tell you about anything?” I rubbed the back of my neck as she looked over to me. “I mean, I can answer any questions you have?”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly. I don’t think she knew any other way to smile. “Yes, I’d like that! Can you tell me about that?”

She pointed outside. I leaned over to see what she looking at, then winced.

“That’s… a trash bin.”

“Oh… it’s very big. What about that?”

“The bakers shop. Today he’s out, but I know his son will be working there. They don’t like me much, but they would be happy to get you something I think.”

“Really? Oh, and what about that store?”

“General goods. They sell a little bit of everything. I go there sometimes when I want something for my experiments and can’t walk to the docks.”

“Why would you go to the docks?” she asked.

“Well, everything one could want is there. Thanks to the fact it’s next to both the river and the sea, lots of trade goods end up there. Objects from the Eastern
Continents, like spices, animals, and so on, can be found there for good prices. And the workers there will always accept a hand or two with the heavy lifting, so I can usually get a little bit of coin there as well.”

“You think I could work there to?”

For a moment I considered the idea of the big and burly dockworkers accepting the aid of the tiny girl that was the future savior of the world with the heavy, sweaty, and dirty work of loading and unloading goods.

“…”

“What?”

“All clear!” came Richard’s voice, saving me from an explanation. A moment later he opened the carriage door. He quirked an eye at the sight of me sitting there, before looking at Katya. “My lady. You may enter the,” he flickered his eyes to me, “the domicile.”

I hid a small smirk.

“Okay!” she hopped out of the carriage, crossing over to my house. I went to follow her, when Richard stopped me with a raised hand. He watched her enter, then looked over at me.

“I have checked your records,” said Richard in a low, dangerous tone, “so I know you have yet to show any violence that wasn’t done in self-defense. Nonetheless, I give you a warning orcling. I’ve killed hundreds of pure blooded orcs,” he tapped the hilt of his blade. “I’ve soaked my steel in the blood of warriors, shamans, and demon-worshippers. And if you do anything to harm my charge, I will add a blacksmith to that list.”

We stared at each other for a moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, I reached for his hand on my chest, removing it. He let me push it away, still looking at me.

“I won’t hurt her, or anyone, who doesn’t hurt me first,” I didn’t hold back my voice. When it came out, it was with the low, growling tones that were the gift of my orcish blood. The guards around us stepped back, fear etched on their faces. Richard simply narrowed his eyes. “I am a blacksmith. Before I am half-human, before I am half-orc, I am a blacksmith. I will do my job, and I will do it well. That is a promise.”

I stepped around him, walking towards
my home. The sound of Richard’s footsteps followed, as I felt his
eyes on my back.

------

Moments later we stood in the shop. I was measuring Katya's body, carefully noting down each number as I went. Arthur watched from his seat on one of the anvils as Richard prowled the room, watching me carefully. Katya was watching the measurements I was doing with curiosity in her eyes. Tinged with boredom, but stil curiosity.

“Raise your arms,” Katya lifted them from her sides, letting me wrap my measuring tape around her waist. Moving quickly, I measure her hips and chest as well.

It is critical when making armor that your measurements are as perfect as possible. In battle, the last thing a warrior wants is for their armor to suddenly pinch or pull
while they are in the midst of pitched combat.

Still, as I brought the tape to wrap around Katya’s chest, I could feel Richard’s gaze harden. I made sure my measurement was good, then quickly removed the tape to note it down.

“Richard,” Katya said as I finished writing.

“My lady?”

“Char said there was a baking shop that sold pastries here. Can you get me one?”

“At once!” Richard clapped an armored gauntlet to his chest and bowed, before leaving the room.

It was quiet for a bit. I took the measurement of her arms, separating the measurements for her hands, forearms, and upper arms.

“I’m sorry about him,” Katya said softly.

“Hmm?” I looked down at her. She was biting her lip, peeking up at me shyly.

“He… he’s just overprotective. A few assassins have tried to kill me over the years. And he worries.”

Assassins? That was horrifying to contemplate.

“I don’t mind so much,” I said, though I was actually relieved he was gone. His gaze had been very distracting. “I’m glad you wanted that pastry though.”

“I’m actually not that hungry.”

“Then why...” I stopped when I
noticed the mischievous glee in her eyes, “you mean you wanted him
to leave?”

Arthur barked out a laugh. Katya’s smile widened slightly, and I couldn’t help my own smile.

A few minutes later I’d finished the measurements, double-checking them several times. Once I was sure I was done, it was time for the next part of the process. I started flipping through a book of various designs, trying to decide what would be best for my new client.

“So… do you have a favorite food?”

It took me a moment to realize the question was directed at me. I looked up, confused. Katya continued to stare at me earnestly.

“Um… sandwiches, I suppose. Or noodles with tomato sauce and meat.”

“Oh, I haven’t tried that,” she said thoughtfully.

“It’s pretty good.”

Thinking that we were done, I went back to the designs. Nothing I’d choose would be final, but having a basic starting idea would—

“What about books? Can you read?”

Sighing slightly, I looked back up at her. “Yes, I can. I don’t really have a favorite one, there are too many to choose from. Now, let me finish real quick. Please?”

“Oh, sorry!” she lifted her hands in a placating gesture.

I nodded, then flipped the page. Where was I? Right, I’d need to design the armor for her small size. Easy enough. But it would need a few embellishments to reference her role as the Prophesied Child. Maybe a few passages from the Chapel of Valor’s holy texts? If I could—

“What are you doing?”

I snorted in shock when I realized she’d somehow snuck up on me. She was looking over my shoulder curiously, reading my notes. After a moment she looked over at me, then back at the book.

“I…” I hesitated, then decided I’d just have to flow with the situation. Most clients never hung around the shop. This was the first time I’d had one sit and speak with me, so I was adjusting.

“I’m deciding on how I want the basic design for your armor to go,” I flipped the page, showing diagrams of gauntlets. “I’d like it to fit with your fighting style, but the aesthetics have to fit with your future role. I can’t simply engrave skulls on the shoulders for example.”

“Ew,” she stuck her tongue out cutely.

“Exactly. It needs show people who you are, while allowing you to fight with your full potential,” I pointed at one of the gauntlets, which had clawed fingers. “This one, for example, is a good design for someone trying to represent a predatory aesthetic. Things like small spikes do the same thing. But for you, I think something from the Chapel’s texts engraved on different parts of your armor would be good.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “Sounds complicated. How long did it take you to learn all this?”

“I’m still learning, right Arthur?” we turned to look at my adopted father. He was watching us huddle over my notebook with an odd smile on his face, and nodded when I looked over at him. “Hasha, my teacher, likes to say that a person
should always try to learn one new thing a day at the least. And that you should only stop when there is nothing more to learn.”

“What’s he like?” she asked.

“Hasha?” I thought about that. “Well, he’s great. He and Arthur taught me about magic and blacksmithing. He’s a good teacher.”

“I see,” she took my notebook in gentle hands. “I wish I learned about this. My teachers only taught me about fighting, the words of the text, and how to use the Light.”

“The Light?” I blinked as I watched her read my note. “You’re a paladin?”

“Oh yeah!” she gave me the notebook and smiled brightly. “I can show you later if you want?”

“Uh, sure,” I scratched my chin. “Does every paladin of the Chapel get the same training?”

He smile fell away. “…I don’t know,” She raised her left hand to rub her right upper arm. “I was always the only person learning in those classes. The only people who really spent time with me besides my teachers are Richard and Mountain. I mean, I spar with the other knights but they never fight me seriously. ‘The Prophesied Child’ must be protected. So I never had any real people to talk about this stuff with.”

Surprise filled me. That was the first time I’d heard her speak without an undercurrent of happiness in her voice. It sounded… wrong. Sad.

“Well, I suppose you have me now,” I think I was more surprised than she was when I spoke. Still, her bright smile told me I’d said the right thing. Still, I tried to joke. “I suppose if no one else is willing, a half-orc with a bad attitude will do?”

She smiled at that.

“Anyways, I think I’ll need to see how you fight,” I wrote a small annotation in my notebook. “I’ll bring a few of my things with me, my instruments and such. I can meet you in the carriage. Arthur, you want to come?”

The skinny blacksmith chuckled. “No, this is your baby, Char. I think I’ll watch and see how you do.”

“Are you sure?” I asked in surprise. It wasn’t that he was stern or untrusting, but he tended to keep a close eye on my projects while I worked.

“You’ll do fine,” he waved me off. “I’ll head to the pub and throw back a few pints.”

“Ah!” Katya gasped in shock. “But drinking alcohol is forbidden in the sight of the Light!”

Arthur and I stopped to stare at her. Then we looked at each other, unsure how to handle this.

“…I’ll drink in shadows?” Arthur tried.

Katya puffed up her cheeks and placed her hands on her hips.

“…I suppose I’ll just settle with water,” I’d never heard Arthur so close to tears in my life.

“Good!” Katya gave Arthur a proud smile, then left the room.

“…You know that she won’t appear as soon as you drink a pint. You can still drink.”

“She’s the damn Prophesied Child,” Arthur grumbled. “And she just told me not to drink. Light save me.”

“Well, isn’t this the Light trying to save you?” I smirked at the dark look he gave me. He turned to leave, grumbling.

“Bratty kids… giant dogs… all I wanted to do was forge metal…”