"Obrecht?" Laris is surprised to have the guest suddenly appear soundlessly behind us. The look on his face changes as Obrecht applies strength to his hand, forcing him to move it far from my head.
The Lycans may have a durable body, but in the end, descendants of the Hunter-kind are superior in terms of strength. You can't underestimate Obrecht's grip. I've seen him crush stones and dent the softer metals like clay back in Lumea.
"What do you think you're doing", I demand.
Laris not crying in pain is already an achievement. He even has the strength to conceal it and smile at Obrecht.
With a pleasant practiced smile, he even manages to ask, "May I know how I have offended this good sir?"
Obrecht just looks at him coldly with no answer. Peeved since earlier, Tukare comes swinging with a sword with such accuracy. Unfortunately, this is Obrecht. Though weaponless, he is already a hard opponent to defeat. Even while he's sleeping, you can't conquer him.
I know because I've tried when I was super frustrated when I consecutively couldn't win against him during our first time training together. I tried ambushing when he was napping, resting, and even eating. Yet it was all useless because he still manages to flip us around and pin me down.
I'm unhappy recalling this for several reasons.
Faster than the sword about to hit him, Obrecht had already jumped back nimbly, a few feet back.
If the previous display didn't attract people, then this one did.
"Who is that? I haven't seen him before."
"He should be Lady Amani's guest. I heard there were three strong men and two beautiful women who came."
Having not seen Obrecht's face around, it's easy for some people to conclude that Obrecht may be one of Lady Amani's so called guests that arrived a few days ago.
"But what's happening? Why is everyone tense? And why is Laris holding his wrist while Tukare is pointing a sword at the guest?"
Some people back away to avoid getting caught in the trouble, while others look towards us in fright, scared of the consequences of harming the patron's guest. But that's the minority. Most people are onlookers, keeping each other up-to-date in small voices. I managed to find the people talking earlier. Though they are at a far corner, I can still hear them clearly.
"Two women you say? You're wrong. There's only one woman, the other was a young boy."
"With a face like that? A face like that is a boy's?"
"What is he doing with the Lady's guest? Does he know him?"
"Know who? Who are you talking about?"
"That black haired fellow that's always with Girtro or Tukare recently. I think his name's Videre."
"Why does he look like nothing concerns him. He looks as if everything is beneath him."
"That Videre's face is always like that. It's scary how nobody knows what he's thinking."
"He looks so gloomy and is apparently a loner. I heard he didn't even sleep in the tents with his highness, Laris."
"Eh? If it were me, I would've died just to be close to his highness."
"Hmm, his highness is very amiable and easy to get along with. He's also very kind. I wouldn't mind a ruler like that."
"His highness is unfortunate to have such familial relations."
"Indeed, one cousin is a psychopath, the other is a gloomy iceberg."
"Shhh!! Be careful Tukare doesn't catch wind of your words!"
"Why the hell are you even talking about that side of the family? We were talking about the other side, the Mother's side! Not the Father's!"
"Why didn't you say it clearly! I almost lost my head. Aah, I feel cold and drenched in sweat all over now."
"..." Tukare may not hear, but I can. You're all not afraid I won't slice you with a shadow blade in your sleep?
I ignore the dissent of voices muttering in low volumes, and focus on disarming Tukare. It's not that I'm protecting Obrecht, but that I'm protecting my sister. If she wants to defeat Obrecht, she really shouldn't choose a fight focused on swords and other blades.
"Enough, Tukare. Tukare." I emphasize the second time I call her name, as she stubbornly refuses to withdraw her weapon. "This is not your fight, sister."
"Is this the person who made you like this?"
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I thought about how Tukare may have been hung up on my fragmented emotions since yesterday.
"I made myself like this."
Realizing as if there is something wrong, Laris shifts his gaze at the both of us while listening in. Not used to being kept in the dark in many matters, Laris asks, "Made yourself like what? Tukare, is there something wrong with Videre?"
Laris tries to come close to inspect me for any injury. Unless he has Lady Amani's eyes, or Tukare's power, I doubt he can even find a glimpse of it.
"Don't touch what's mine!" Obrecht imposes, glaring at Laris, who frowns upon hearing it.
"Shut up!" I unconsciously launch a path of shadow spikes growing from the ground.
Yours? I don't want to hear it—
In that split second, I inwardly panic when Obrecht doesn't even try to dodge. My eyes widen at what I did.
"You won't hurt me."
Throb. What is it? Why is my heart throbbing?
Everyone sharply inhales as the blades near Obrecht but instead of sharpness, they turn into gum-like things, full of stickiness and clinginess. In the blink of an eye, Obrecht is surrounded by a pool of something akin to black mud, with the previous shadow spikes turned into shadows vines fighting for his attention.
Obrecht breaks into a small smile, petting a vine and eyeing the rippling pool in front of him. His expression falters as he stares a particular spot to his right.
"Little shadow, come out. I know you're there. You've been following me around since last night. It's okay. I won't hurt you." Obrecht suddenly says. Whispers fly around, discussing the madness of this guest, but no one could no longer say anything when he confusion abates, and turns into curiosity, and then horror.
A small round thing shakily emerges from the black pool after a while. The round thing-no, the head of a small child comes up. But this 'child' had black skin, short black hair, and black vine-like arms with no fingers. There is no other color.
It comes up in a groveling position, as if shyly hiding its face away, afraid to show Obrecht.
There is a hint of surprise in Obrecht's eyes, but there was no fear unlike everybody else's. Obrecht comes nearer and kneels down.
"Videre." he impulsively says but he isn't looking at me.
'Don't discard your emotions.' I can almost hear Lady Amani's advice ringing again and again in my ears.
"Forgive me?" he asks softly. "I was beside you, but I wasn't able to help you face everything together. I thought staying closest to you would solve everything. I'm sorry if I was lacking. I'm sorry if I couldn't even make you confident or at ease enough to put your faith in me."
A tear forms in my eyes and I cry my answer in my heart.
The child-like manifestation of my emotions looks up and everybody visible garners goosebumps at the sight of a face with deep hollow eye sockets, no nose, and a seamless mouth. The mere sight was horrific. One glance is enough for a few days of sweaty nightmares.
I do not notice myself breathing harder and harder, nor the hand that was gripping my arm.
The 'child' and I continue stare at each other.
"Monster!"
Monster?
I don't know who whispers this, but it births similar louder whispers until a belated scream rings out.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
"A monster! Did somebody bring in a monster child?!"
Monster. Monster.
"Somebody inform the Lady immediately! A monster child has crossed the camp's barrier!!!"
Monster. Monster. Monster—
Is that all you people can say?
Oh. That's right. I'm a monster. So shut up already.
Anger. Sadness. It wells up for a moment. The child in Obrecht's arms grasps his clothes desperately with its vine arms, hiding its face with trembling shoulders. It looked as if it was crying, but everybody is too upset and terrified, nor do they care enough to notice.
All they see is themselves. All that's important is their own safety. Everything else is secondary. Maybe kill the monster child first, and then maybe they can talk? Then what? Express belated false sadness if the object of your fear isn't dangerous after all? Cry crocodile tears and lament its death?
How revolting.
Hypocrites. Let me slice off your noisy mou—
My nape feels a sharp ache. My vision darkens. I fall to the ground, but everything slows down. Laying sideways, I see a blurred picture of Obrecht kissing the black child's head and whispering something to its ears, all in ninety-degree rotation. It must've understood, because it slowly ebbs down from his arms and dissolves into the ground.
"Don't hate me for this later, brother." I hear Tukare's whisper, feeling a hand softly petting my head. "Everything I've done has always been for you."