***Gregory***
Gregory sat with his wife and daughter, at the dinner table, in absolute awe at the story being told to him.
Boots, the naked lunatic from the mountain.
Had apparently; saved a group of people from some snatchers, besting them in single combat with his ridiculous hammer.
Busted the rest of the townsfolk out from an enslavement camp.
Re-taken the town from a bicompany of Crusaders.
Started a rebellion.
May or may not have ties to the gods, like he's some kind of prophet.
Been elected the first Lord of Fenniton in over a hundred years.
And was currently on his way to have a pop at dragging Brocton into the fold.
In two days!
Gregory sat there flabbergasted, unable to comprehend the ridiculous tale.
"Are you winding me up Fiona?" Gregory said with a dark expression.
Fiona looked confused, "What, no."
"it's not fair to play this kind of joke on your parents."
"Dad."
"Have you been drinking?"
"Wh-… no!"
"HAVE I BEEN DRINKING?" Gregory exclaimed burying his face in his hands.
Margaret laughed at her poor husband.
"I don't think so Dad," Fiona giggled, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I know it's a lot to take in, but you'll simply have to accept that it is the truth."
"How?" Gregory said through his paws.
"I don't know, in all honesty." Fiona said, scratching her chin, "People just listen to him, he has a few weird social quirks, there's a lot of stuff he doesn't understand. But he's pretty good in a crisis."
Gregory mulled over the information in his mind. He didn't think his daughter was lying. He was just struggling to comprehend the situation. So much had changed in such a short time.
"What happens now?"
"That's why I'm here," Fiona said with a hint of pride, "I'm one of the messengers; going out to the outer reaches of Fenniton to tell people what's going on."
Gregory exchanged a look with his wife. This was all happening a bit fast for him.
"I've been told to present you with a choice." Fiona continued, "You can head into Fenniton to help out with the rebellion. Or, you can carry on as normal and only evacuate to the town in the event of an attack. Lord Boots-"
"Don't you call him that in this house!" Gregory said with the stern bitterness of an old man.
"Boots," Fiona giggled, "has insisted that the offer of protection is open to all, at all times. But we can't promise your safety if you remain out here on the fringes."
"How magnanimous of him." Gregory snorted. "I think we'll be just fine where we are!"
"Oh, come on Dad!" Fiona laughed, "It's a good deal, I think you and Mum should come down, you're already dressed for it!"
Fiona gestured to her father's attire.
He was indeed ready for travel.
But still, the thought of just pulling up sticks and heading to town, abandoning the farm. It didn't sit well with him.
"It's been ages since you took me to town dear!" Margaret chipped in.
Gregory sighed.
It had been a while since they'd all gone to town as a family.
But still.
Looking up, he saw the practiced pleading faces of the two most important women in his life.
It's impossible to counter those eyes!
"Ah, fine." Gregory said with another sigh, giving up, "How long will it be for?"
"At least ten days." Fiona said with a grin.
"I suppose I'll get the cart out of the barn then." Gregory grumbled.
***Boots***
It was late afternoon, and the sun was on its lazy descent to the horizon.
Boots and his party were back on the main road, on their way to the central district, horses in tow.
As they arrived at the gate however, problems started to arise.
Two fox-like guards flanked the gate, one of them was holding up a paw to Boots's party.
"Woah there!" A man wearing the blue and white uniform of Brocton said, halting their advance.
"Could we see your documents?" his taller fellow added, politely.
"We need documents?" Boots asked quizzically.
The attitude of the guards immediately changed. Their politeness was gone and replaced with annoyance.
"Of course you do!" the taller one exclaimed, pointing at the sun, "It's almost night time, if you're not a resident you can't come in."
"We can't just let people into the central district at night. How do we know you're not bank robbers?"
"Or regular robbers!"
"Yeh!"
"Go on, sling your hook, the markets are open in the morning." The short one said with a dismissive wave.
"Bleeding commoners, trying to get their filthy hands on some shiny things." The other guard said to his friend, deliberately loud enough that the rest of them could hear.
Boots could feel the hackles on the back of his neck standing up.
The desire to squash these two flat was overwhelming.
He could feel his paw itching for the handle of his hammer.
"What about kidnappers?" Simeon said dryly, "Where did that lieutenant of yours live?"
Their expressions turned deliciously sour at that comment.
Boots and his party turned to go.
"You lot watch yourself!" one of the guards cried out impotently to their backs.
Boots shook his head, what a rude welcome.
He supposed; they'd have to find somewhere to stay for the night and try to come up with a plan of action in the morning.
They dropped their horses off at a nearby stable and sought out an inn.
They found a place called 'The Rooster's Rest' and decided to call it a night.
Boots decided now would be a good time to have a look at that book Oswald had with him. It was time to learn about some people. He had a whole list to work through!
***Oswald***
As they made it to The Rooster's Rest' the party paid for their rooms one by one, they would be sharing as expected.
Boots was very quick to pick Oswald as his roommate. Which would have been flattering if it wasn't for the strange look on his face.
He looked strangely determined.
Oswald decided he didn't like that look.
He didn't like that look at all!
"Do you th-"
Boots grabbed Oswald by the arm and practically frog marched him to the room they had just paid for.
This was quite a startling experience for Oswald! He had no idea of Boots's intentions and now this monster of a man was almost carrying him to their room!
They made it to the room. Boots pulled the satchel free from Oswald's shoulder and unceremoniously cast him across the threshold onto a bed.
Boots quickly pulled off his cloak and set his hammer down. Before turning and heading straight for him.
Oswald would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified!
He covered his face and curled up in the corner of his bed.
What was happening?!
He felt the bed creak, as the weight of another person climbed on the mattress with him.
What was he about to do to him?!
"Oswald?"
Oswald shut his eyes tight in abject horror, covering his face.
"Come on Oswald, let's get started."
'LET'S GET STARTED WITH WHAT??' Oswald screamed internally.
Oswald prepared the incantation for his Darkzone spell. If he was quick, he might be able to surprise Boots and escape!
He quickly jumped to his feet on the bed and reached for his dagger.
Only to see Boots sat cross-legged on the bed, with 'The races and peoples of Arca – Wanderer's Edition' opened up in front of him.
Boots was giving him a very curious look.
"Are you all right?"
Oswald wiped his eyes with a sniff and sat down. Feeling very stupid indeed. Embarrassment was burning the tips of his ears.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Boots would never hurt him.
"I'm fine." He mumbled into his lap.
"Good!" Boots said with a smile, "I need you to do some reading for me."
Boots flicked through the pages, until he came across the picture he was looking for, "First I'd like you to tell me about, these."
He pointed at a picture of a Bovinian.
"That's a Bovinian, like Eric and the others we met earlier. The book says they are physically very strong and are local to almost all known provinces of Alleon. Also they're vegan, and quite proudly so."
"What about this one? Sort of looks like a fox doesn't it?"
"They'd be pretty mad if you called them that," Oswald laughed, "but yes that's a Kitvarian, like those two annoying guards from earlier, the book says they have high dexterity and a cunning mind. Also, that they have a very high-pitched laugh."
"Why does that matter?"
"Well, a lot of people make fun of them for it, so they normally only laugh around family or close friends."
"I see, how about this one?" Boots said, wasting no time flicking to the next page. "I take it calling them Rabbits is a no-no?"
"That's a leporidian, and yes you are correct. They're very fast runners and have excellent hearing. Mostly peaceful folk but they have had wars in the past. Also vegans, meat makes them sick."
"Hmm, noted," Boots said with a nod, flicking through the book once more, "I can't find them in here but what is a Witherfang?"
"Ah yes, a Witherfang is a type of wolf that has been corrupted buy ingesting too many magicules. They eat everything they can get to, even each-other. Their appetites are terrifying, and they have a very poisonous bite. You wouldn't want one as a pet."
"Interesting, so would you say that the Lancing Bulls were rather exceptional fighters? Seeing how they dispatched some of these beasts?"
"I'd say they were pretty capable yeah." Oswald said scratching his chin, "Not many people would be able to handle a single witherfang on its own, let alone a pack."
Boots nodded to himself.
Oswald often wondered what went on inside that head of his.
"Oswald," Boots began, "What is the relationship between say, a lycanthian and a dog. They look similar do they not?"
Oswald was slightly confused by this, "Yes, I suppose they do. I don't know what you mean though."
"Are they related in any way?"
Oswald scratched his head, "They might have been made by the same god, if that's what you mean. But a dog is an animal, a lycanthian is wokenfolk."
"Wokenfolk?"
"Yes, those who have awoken, the thinking, the intelligent."
"Ah, interesting." Boots said with a smile, unknown machinations working inside his head.
A curious thought occurred to Oswald.
Where on earth was Boots from?
It seemed to Oswald as though he had been living under a rock his whole life. All of this stuff was common knowledge.
But his strategy and cunning almost knew no bounds. Boots was a very intelligent man in Oswald's opinion.
How does somebody become intelligent, but not pick up any common knowledge?
It was almost as if he'd been plucked from another world.
"Oswald?"
"Oh, sorry." Oswald said, snapping out of his daydream.
Boots was pointing to another picture in the book. One Oswald knew all too well. I was one of his favourite species to read about.
"What is this?"
"A Dragon."
"Do you see many of those?"
"Thankfully no, they are quite a fierce species. But they also keep themselves to themselves."
"Ah, yes I think Gregory mentioned them to me once, you had a war with them?"
"Everybody had a war with them! They tried to take over all of Alleon!"
"I see," Boots said scratching his chin, "so they're not very popular then?"
"No, they are not popular." Oswald said flatly, "they are quite rare and all of them have a magical ability of some sort. They are shape shifters too, they can adopt human-like forms if they want to talk to us, 'lesser' races. Not that they bother most of the time."
"Have you met any?"
"Well, no," Oswald said timidly, "but I've read a lot about them."
"Hang on," Boots said pausing, "did you say human-like?"
"…. yes?" Oswald said, slightly confused.
"There are humans here?"
Oswald looked incredulously at him, "Of course there are! They live mostly in the north though."
Boots seemed quite surprised.
"How can you not of heard of humans? We go to war with them all the time, like, every other year." Oswald was flabbergasted.
Boots looked puzzled, "Hmm, why though?"
"Because they're assholes!"