By beating her, Florentino reminded his maid how important it was to respect the choices made by her master, refusing to obey his son was a mistake. The two boys were back to witness it all.
Tom wouldn't stop staring at Oswald, he was much more interested now. What could possibly anger him now? He wanted to see more. He wanted to have Oswald at the ready for the first opportunity he'd have to behold the bestial instincts of a monster.
Social classes were part of Oswald's knowledge.
Indeed, Tom's family was a little higher on the social scale than Revel's villagers. Its name was famous, and its treasury was renown. They had the biggest of the smallest houses. Meaning they could buy a manor, but decided otherwise. While Rose, Tom's mother, was the best at selling, her husband, Florentino was good for buying, both taught their son how to bargain, negotiate, and deal.
To Oswald, it was nice to know someone high-placed. He'd have political power, a little backup if they were to become close friend. So he shared the little he could with Tom, because he couldn't trade anything else.
Tom explained Oswald who was the Havent family, the southern merchants that were in charge of most spice and slave trades near the Spanish frontier, alas the war between the two countries greatly depleted their stockpiles and diminished their sales, which is why their caravans migrated further in the north, Florentino's self-attributed territory.
When he was finally alone, he took the knife that pierced Oswald's throat out, and hid it in his closet after being disappointed from the lack of evidences.
In a drawer, dozens of silvery throwing-knives. He took a new one and hung it to his belt.
"...Belt?" Oswald said, sitting in his room. Now that Meryl reworked his clothes as she had been told, there was a hidden hole under the hips' flap to let a tail grow. Fragile stitches on his shoulders and trousers with an internal cloth surplus that'd cover a bigger silhouette once broken. She sewn hooks inside the rear pockets of the pant to attach the shoes he'll probably lose anew.
The singular belt he was talking about was the sole trophy he brought back from the camp. The commander's belt had detailed engravings, the perfect size, and quality to fit a superhuman. It had squares attached all around that used to add prestige to its full set armor. Its presence was a little out of the blue without Meryl's modifications.
Due to the plenty of added tissue, Oswald's silhouette changed a little, wider shoulders, long sleeves, and the flap above the hips now made him look more like a traveller.
If she was given more leather to work with, she'd surely work harder to improve her son's outfit.
The next day, after tasking his mother with the herd's daily needs, Oswald came to the village in the early morning, he wanted to spy on Adelmo. He noticed the pack's smell, new traces all around his land, he chose to erase all of them before departing.
He noticed how strong his own smell became, not that he had more sweat to secrete, but because his body certainly hadn't finished evolving. There was no noticeable change since the last full moon though. He was one to two centimetres taller and his hair lost little by little his brown shades to turn darker.
At least he wasn't afraid to go bald early, his pilosity increased on every part of his body.
With his knives on the belt, he ran through the forest, testing his new clothes.
'Not bad.' He thought, seeing how easily the tissue parted ways to let his legs cut through the wind. He saw, above the top of the trees, dark clouds forming afar. Maybe it would rain soon.
There was no animal to hunt on his way, when he arrived in the village, he saw Reggy which he saluted properly.
"I was supposed to help Adelmo set the new traps today, but Tina said he departed earlier this morning, impossible to find him, I guess I'll stay here and twiddle my thumbs." The man said.
'Darn it! I'm late... I guess I'll go and see Ruth then.' The boy thought.
When he arrived, he discovered with horror what his friend's bedroom had become. Iron bars nailed to every window, new shutters that would open only from the inside, more wolf traps all around, and poor taste decorations.
Hanging all around the house, crosses to prevent evil from approaching their houses. The result looked like the mix between a prison and a church.
No one around, he came to Ruth's window and knocked, once, twice. "How are you Ruth? Haven't seen you in a while." He said, not sure to be talking to someone.
He heard a rumbling behind the shutters. A heavy breath that exuded a feeling of agony.
"... Go... Away..." He heard. The little voice that talked had barely enough hair to add a word.
"What? Are you okay?" Oswald was worried. If his intimidation hadn't worked, it meant she went through more suffering from her mother.
"...Run."
The footstep Oswald heard next was heavy, and not in front of him, but behind. He saw Dariel, holding a double handed hammer with his smithing gloves and wearing a coal-stained apron. The man stood a few meters away from him, with a furious look.
"Hey Dariel! What are those? Did they spurt out of the wood during the night?" Said Oswald while pointing at the bars, choosing to play fool rather than staying silent. "My mother is busy with Dolly, she sent me to tell you she agrees with everything your wife said, though admitting her faults was a bitter step." He started to walk fast.
'How the hell did I not hear him coming here? Man he's as sneaky as a cow.'
"Where's Ruth? Your girl is so sweet, I'm sure she'll be glad if I say hi. May I enter?" Oswald walked toward the entrance before Dariel moved an inch. He acted like the runt you'd kick out of your house because of his rudeness.
He feared Dariel. The man was a big, protective father. Plus he was following him a meter away, tightly gripping on a hammer.
But Ruth's safety mattered too much for Oswald to simply avoid danger, that's why he stepped into the belly of the beast.