The Sword Saint’s Second Life As a Fox Girl

2-39 Overture

Among the trees basking in the dying light of the day, a group of seven Paladins was streaking through unpaved roads on their mounts. It was none other than Azaela and her companions. They had taken off from Quinteburgh at dawn and an hour after noon, they were out of Maven’s Creek and gradually entering the territory of Green Scar.

The pace of their haste was only possible due to the kind of mounts they were riding. The mounts were a type of raptors called Tyrux. They were essentially carnivorous land birds, much like ostriches only that they were known to even triumph over lions and tigers in terms of ferocities. They were also the fastest runners of all land beasts. Their taming was only possible thanks to the group’s Anima, mages specialized in summoning and taming beasts to do their bidding.

“What’s the situation up ahead, Sera?” Azaela asked as she looked over her shoulder, to the rider behind her.

“My familiars are seeing a lot of movements half a day ahead of us,” answered Sera, the team’s Anima. “Beasts, hundreds of them. A horde.”

“What manner of beasts are present among the horde?”

“A huge variety, sister. Almost every kind that can be found around these parts. Their behavior is unusual but unison. Someone or something’s controlling them.”

“Our Necromancer is making a show, eh?” Lucan chimed in from the side. “Weeks in the shadow, giving us crumbs, and all of a sudden he’s giving us a performance. Getting kinda desperate, I say. Well, I can't blame him. We already know where he hides and he’s aware of that.”

“Is the Razor Grizzly among them?” Azaela asked, ignoring Lucan’s remarks.

“No sister, the Grizzly isn’t among the horde.”

“Sly bastard...”

“We should have just gone straight to The Singularity, sister,” Lucan suggested nonchalantly.

Azaela shot Lucan a sidelong glance. “And what of Green Scar then, pray to tell?”

Lucan scoffed. “A faithless town has no need of our concern.”

Azaela suppressed her sigh. “That kind of sentiment is why the town chooses to be faithless, Lucan.”

“It’s faithless because it doesn’t understand our cause or what it needs to be done. The town doesn’t want us. They rejected the grace of Ruva simply they can’t comprehend. This is blasphemy, sister.”

“Understanding cannot be forced, Lucan. You can only teach them and let the understanding come to them.”

Lucan chuckled before sneering. “You are much too lenient on them, sister. They’ll take advantage of it.”

“You call this leniency, I call this understanding. All the churches have ever done is either pull or push. They never let the people approach on their own accord. If nothing comes to an understanding, conflict will come to everything. Now tell me, Lucan. Are you an advocate of conflict?”

“...no, I am not,” Lucan said, his voice slowly trailing off. He felt the dread. Azaela’s tone was calm but he knew her enough to know her ire was raised. Had he answered otherwise, he would have been eating dirt. “I overstepped, sister. My apology.”

“Your apology is noted and we’re not in a temple, we’re in the field, it’s commander to you.”

“Of course, commander,” Lucan said with a bow.

Though Azaela returned her gaze to the front, her mind lingered on Lucan’s words. They were harsh and unrestrained. In all honesty, she hated the likes of Lucan. Apathetic and single-minded. There were many others just like him, or even worse. She truly believed in the Ruvans. She believed in the good Ruvanity had committed, albeit more often than not, it comes with too hefty of a cost of others. The exaggerating growth of Ruvanity in the west had attracted similar exaggerating individuals. They were extreme in their cause and uncompromising. Though ironically, their uncompromising manner was the main cause of the compromises they experienced.

The biggest irony of all was Azaela herself. Within her circle, she was seen as the most lenient among all other Paladins of her position. Yet, to the common masses, she was the most unyielding in her beliefs. In a way, it was true. She was unyielding but just not in the way everyone was led to believe. However, those were rumors and she had little for rumors with all the malignant deeds happening around the world.

The afternoon was slowly approaching dusk and Sera received new particulars from her familiars. The monsters were closing in on the town of Green Scar.

“This is too slow. The town won’t have a tomorrow at this rate,” Azaela concluded.

Azaela further increased her pace and rushed ahead of her companions. Everyone was left dumbfounded by the sudden haste on top of their current haste but none of them complained and simply increased their speed in tandem with their commander.

****

A knock came to the door of Geron Tagrun’s office.

“Come in,” Geron said as he continued scribbling away on a paper line after lines. Just beside him was a stack of papers, all documents that he needed to go through before the end of the day.

The door creaked open softly and in walked Sam with hesitant steps. She was holding a bundle of letters in her hands.

“Samira? What brings you to my office?” Geron asked, looking up from the paper but his hand did not stop scribbling.

She approached Geron’s desk and placed down a small piece of paper from among the bundle. “This came from your son, Aedan.” Words were few on the paper, no more than five. “And these are from the Guild in Maven’s Creek.”

Geron instantly stopped his scribbling the moment he heard that he had a message from his Aedan. Geron knew Aedan’s secret but nevertheless, he took him in and raised him like a son, despite Aedan being the older one. He also knew Aedan wasn’t one for sentiment and never bothered him with trivial matters. Which only meant that the message intended for Geron could only be a dire one.

Geron’s eyes slowly widened as he read the message. “By the spirits...” Geron gasped. His breath carried the paper away from his hand. Instead of catching the paper, he rubbed his temple. He then proceeded to open up the other letters in a hurry. We quickly skimmed the letters and what he read only further drained the colors from his face.

“Sir, what’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Gather the guards, Samira. All of them.”

Sam wanted to ask why but seeing the grave look in his eyes, she refrained herself from asking and promptly left the room after a word of affirmation.

Geron leaned back on his chair with a loud sigh. He looked out to the window, at the darkening sky. He prayed in his heart that the Ruvans would arrive before the monsters do. For once in his life, he had never been so hopeful of the Ruvans’ presence.

****

Deep into the night of Quinteburgh, a small shop attached to the side of the Guild sat alone with its paltry illumination. It was an apothecary associated with the Guild where the products were affordable for all ranks of adventurers. But despite the bargain, few frequented the apothecary. Dangers were aplenty in Maven’s Creek but not at the level where adventurers would consider potion for each of their excursions. At most, they would buy a few and had those last them for at least a week.

It wasn’t that the adventurers were negligent with their wellbeing but simply because potions were expensive even at the reduced price. As such, the door would creak loudly from its rusted hinges whenever it was swung open.

Olivia, the shopkeeper of the apothecary, looked up from her book as she heard the door gave off a sharp cry of its rust and age. She was a Seer, a consultant for the Guild but whenever she was consulting the Guild, she was a humble shopkeeper. She was surprised to find she had a customer at this hour. What’s more, the customer was a Fox-kin of the Faerie-kin.

Erinthea had a solemn look on her face but hints of a firm resolution were flaring in her eyes. She scoured the room, the products on every shelf. She had sneaked out of the church and came to the apothecary for one single purpose. She muttered her wish silently for Lyra to stay asleep, who was still accompanying Celia by her side.

“L-Lady Erinthea!” Olivia stumbled her words but she immediately rushed out from over the counter to greet Erin. “How can I be of assistance?” she asked as took a deep bow.

“Oh, good evening,” Erin greeted with surprise. “How unexpected to see you here, Olivia. What’s a Seer like you running a shop all alone?”

“I’m only a Seer that the Guild consults with from time to time. In the times that I’m not at the Guild’s bidding, I run this shop by myself.”

“By yourself? No helpers?”

“Never needed one. Customers are few. This shop was my father’s.”

“Where is he now?”

“He passed away a few years ago,” Olivia answered dryly with a saddened smile.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Olivia forced a smile. “Thank you, Lady Erinthea but his passing is now no more than a memory of the past. How can I help, milady?”

Erin stopped her. “Don’t do that. And please, just call me Erin.”

“You jest, Milady. I can’t risk being discourteous to a fine lady such as you,” Olivia said, her eyes weren’t meeting Erin’s.

Erin sighed. “Fine. I’m not having this kind of talk again.”

“Uh… yes?” Olivia was unsure of how to respond. “If I may ask, are you going into the forest this late into the night?”

Erin raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask so?” She did her best to prevent her tails and ears from perking up.

“Uh… You’re in your armor and your hair is tied. The pouches on your belt are all filled.”

“I always walk around like this. I like being prepared.”

“Isn’t this too prepared?”

Erin chuckled. “Doesn’t hurt to be too prepared. And I have raised the ire of many… corrupted officials, I’m sure you have heard of that.”

“Y-yes… I have,” Olivia answered softly. “Um… so… may I know what it is that you seek in my humble shop?”

“Before I ask, can I trust you to be discreet about this?”

“D-discreet? Milady, even if you’re a Fae, I-I can’t—”

“It’s not anything illegal, Olivia. Be at ease.”

“Oh,” Olivia muttered and let out a sigh. “If so, then perhaps I can try to be discreet.”

“Try?”

“Eh? No no! I meant no offense, milady. I was just saying—”

Erin smiled wryly. “I understand, Olivia. I do. Just calm down.”

Olivia nodded and took deep breaths.

Once Erin was sure Olivia had truly still her nerves, she handed Olivia a paper.

Olivia gasped as she read the content. “M-milady… I don’t mean to pry but… what do you need this for?”

“How old are you, Olivia?”

“S-sixteen,” she answered, hesitantly.

“Young but I guess I can tell you,” Erin said and leaned in close to Olivia.

The young Seer stepped back instinctively. “M-milady?”

“My nights have been quite dull lately. I’m looking for something to reignite the flame I once had.”

“B-but isn’t this too… heavy? Even if you’re a Fae, it could still be too much.”

Erin smiled once again. “I know my body, Olivia. I have done things just as dangerous.”

“Then… why do you need this?” Olivia asked.

Erin stared blankly at Olivia.

“M-milady?” Olivia waved at her.

“...I’m not looking for a greater flame. I’m just looking for a new flame with the same intensity. Please no more questions, Olivia. It’s kind of embarrassing to say more.”

“Ah, I apologize, Milady!” Olivia exclaimed, bowing her head a few times before Erin stopped her.

“Just… tell me, do you have them?”

“No, I don’t…” Olivia answered as her voice slowly trailed away.

“I see,” Erin muttered. Disappointment crossed her face.

“But I can make them.”

“You can? How long would that take?”

“Five minutes? It’s easy. I just need to bring heat some rose essence up and—”

“I don’t need the details, Olivia. Just make them for me,” Erin said and put a single gold coin into Olivia’s hand.

“Milady, this is too much,”

“It’s just right, Olivia. I am asking you with a special request after all.”

“Well then…” Olivia hesitated on pocketing the gold. “I should start making them now.”

“That would be great, Olivia.”

As Olivia disappeared into the back of the store, Erin slumped to the floor and a sigh escaped her lips in the most discourteous manner. “I’m sorry… Lyra. I have to do this alone...” she muttered to no one in particular. "After all... my lust will not discriminate."