HEO 57

[Silver, what’s wrong? Explain it to me!]

Wolf fidgeted as he paced in place. Silver’s gaze lingered on his anxious face. Though bathed in the flickering torchlight, it radiated a chill like a snow-covered canyon. A rich wine, perhaps?

To think that ordinary face could inspire such a grand sentiment… the Glamaug must still be latching onto Wolf. Wait, maybe my eyes are just worn out from staring at that old Bingapsu’s weathered face for so long.

“Hey, fairy. What do you think of that guy’s face? Is he handsome?”

He asked a third party for an objective assessment. The mantis fairy glanced at Wolf, then raised both front legs to form an X without hesitation.

“Really? Are your aesthetic standards different from ours because you’re a bug?”

〔No. I know exactly what makes a human handsome or beautiful.〕

The mantis fairy retorted.

〔He’s not ugly, but he’s definitely not handsome either. But Silver is a stunningly pretty boy! That’s why I couldn’t leave you!〕

“So you let me kidnap you? You sly thing.”

[What are you two talking about? Speak Atanian!]

Wolf waved his hands as he wedged himself between Silver and the mantis fairy. Silver glared at him, then stomped the dirt ground.

[Follow me. I have something to do with you.]

***

The surroundings were bustling. The rich scent of smoked fish, the savory aroma of rye bread, and the pungent smell of thick liquor poured from wooden barrels filled the air. Silver slowly opened his eyes.

Where am I…

Women bustled between tables, plates of food in both hands, and people chattered while stuffing salted meat into their mouths. Winter sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a cool glow on the room. It was a tavern on the first floor of the inn.

“Ugh…”

Silver grimaced. With every breath, the stench of alcohol wafted from his mouth. His nose stung and his head throbbed. He must have had another fight with Black Weasel last night. Every time that happened, Silver would end up drinking himself silly alone at the inn’s tavern, then pass out face-first on the table. When he woke up, puffy eyes like a frog’s and a raging headache would welcome him. Today was the same… Wait, something was different?

Right beside him, Wolf was fast asleep with his cheek pressed against the table. Silver frowned. What was this guy doing here?

Memories slowly came back. Black Weasel had slapped him for the first time in his life. Wolf’s proposal to emigrate to Atania. The appearance of the mantis fairy. And… the exorcism ritual. Silver closed his eyes.

Only three chickens bought from the inn as offerings were wasted, clucking in vain. Unlike before, when he’d been doubtful, wondering, “Is this the right thing to do?”, Wolf clasped his hands together and prayed earnestly during the exorcism last night. It was only natural after seeing the skeleton evil spirit and countless fairies firsthand. The shock of the failed exorcism was equally profound. He drank with Wolf, completely disheartened, at a tavern… …and that’s where his memory ended.

Why were they always failing? Did the goddess demand four-legged beasts like sheep or goats as sacrifices? Or did he need to bring in a professional priest?

The weight of sleep was too heavy for him to think any longer. Just as he was about to close his eyes, the sound of people talking filled his ears.

“They’re all dead? Not a single one left?”

“Probably. They were too scared to go deep inside, but apparently, not a single baby’s cry could be heard.”

“I stopped by there briefly yesterday morning… The villagers were perfectly fine then. Ah, was it the warriors who were drinking there?”

“Don’t know. The messengers said the bodies were mangled.”

“The warriors’ doing. They slaughtered the entire village to make room for their own tribe to settle in the river harbor.”

The murmurs mingled with the sounds of swigging liquor and chewing dried meat. Silver bit his lip.

So it has gotten out.

It wasn’t surprising. Even if you take a ferry from here, you’d arrive in the time it takes to flip a hourglass three times. People will blame the heavens for the incident, just like before, or spread speculative rumors before gradually forgetting it.

Suddenly, someone shook Silver’s shoulder. It was Red Eagle.

[Did you sleep here? Did you drink all night?]

[Yeah.]

Silver pushed back his bangs and sat up. Red Eagle sat down across from him. His complexion looked rough.

[Did you stay up all night? Well, you couldn’t sleep, right?]

Silver’s sarcasm earned a bitter smile from Red Eagle.

[No, I fell asleep the moment I hit the bed. Isn’t it ridiculous? How could I sleep so soundly after what happened…]

[Anyone would sleep soundly if they’re tired. Wolf and I slept like logs too.]

“Hmm? Hmm? Hmm!”

Even in his sleep, Wolf must have recognized the prince’s voice, for he raised his head.

[Your Highness, when did you arrive? Ah, was the bed uncomfortable? I’m sorry I made you sleep alone!]

[I slept well. Are you alright?]

[I hope I’ll better soon. Ah, my head….]

Wolf grabbed his forehead with a face twisted in agony. Silver hesitated, glass in hand. Black Weasel yawned widely as he came down the stairs. The sight instantly revived last night’s memory and anger.

Was that something worth hitting him for?

He was confused. It felt like it might have been, and like it might not have been. He might have been furious at his son for ignoring his warnings in a critical situation. Maybe he exploded because his son, who never listened to a word he said, acted so recklessly even then. But was it really that bad? Even if it was an attempted beating, hadn’t the whipping crossed the line?

If he’d just slapped him once, he would have thought, ‘Well, it happens.’ Didn’t that bastard avoid a never ending fall thanks to me? Then he should’ve hit me just once. No, he shouldn’t have hit me at all! I’m his savior!

Once he’d sorted that out, he felt no more hesitation. Silver glared at Black Weasel. The latter turned stiff as a board when he met that bone-chilling stare. All traces of sleep vanishing from his face.

The standoff continued. Amidst the clinking of glasses and plates and the buzz of voices in the bustling tavern, only this corner felt as cold as a winter lakeshore. Wolf and Red Eagle were also visibly tense. They held their breath like children watching a squirrel and a chipmunk glaring at each other over an acorn.

Suddenly, Black Weasel shrugged and walked over. The usually shameless man looked awkward. Was he regretting last night? Even you think it was excessive, right?

Just then, a waiter placed food on the table. Steam rose from the meat stew.

[Leaving this uncle behind to eat alone?]

Black Weasel made a flippant remark and sat down beside Red Eagle. His furtive eyes stole glances at Silver.

[This inn serves a decent breakfast. The bread is especially…]

Black Weasel tore off a piece of rye bread shaped like a bear, Silver’s favorite, and waved it. Silver deliberately turned his head away. I’m not eating, you bastard!

Black Weasel was flustered by this refusal of a truce. He lowered his head, shoved the bear-shaped bread into his own mouth, and mumbled.

[We have to row all day today…]

[Yeah, Silver. You’ll be exhausted all day, so you need to eat heartily.]

Wolf, obliviously butting in, pushed a stew bowl toward Silver. The moment the rich stew aroma brushed his nose, Silver’s stomach growled loudly.

[You eat it…]

[Of course I’m eating too. Let’s eat together. Didn’t you drink more than me last night? Won’t your stomach hurt?]

At Wolf’s words, Black Weasel paused mid-bite on his bread and raised his eyebrows.

[You two… drank together? When?]

[They drank all night last night. When I came downstairs, they were both passed out with their heads on the table.]

Red Eagle pointed alternately at Silver and Wolf. The smile vanished from Black Weasel face. His gray eyes, devoid of light, locked onto Wolf. The sudden change of expression radiated danger as dramatically as flames leaping from an embers-only hearth. Silver’s shoulders tensed. What is wrong with him?

Silence fell. Wolf’s face went pale under Black Weasel’s gaze. He was unable to move and had to endure Black Weasel’s stare while maintaining the stance of pushing the stew toward Silver.