Within ten minutes we are nearing the clearing. The silhouettes I saw before from a distance turned out to be exactly what I assumed. And the closer we get to them, the more on edge I feel. Even with Thorpe, Ethel, Steppan, and the others taking point ahead of us. Even with my sword tightly gripped in my hands. None of it makes me feel safer.
It's strange. I never thought I would be this scared of a jackelope again.
The adults are about the size of a bear or a head of cattle. They pack on weight during the warmer months so they can conserve food for the younger ones during the winter. Dangerous enough on their own. One already nearly killed me with just a kick, not even two weeks ago. But they aren't bred for fighting.
But these clearly are...
Deep black fur that soaks up all the light and gives none back. Giving them the eerie visual of tall, lean, hare-shaped shadows looming over the forest. Standing at about nine or even ten feet. Their antlers are stark white and thin, covered in sharp barbs like the branches of a thorn bush. Which is unsettling enough, but what's really making my spine crawl is their eyes. Pure red and pupilless. Making it difficult to tell where exactly they are looking.
All five of them hold sentry around the clearing. Three are on the ground, while the other two are higher up on some of the sharply pointed boulders. But each one is facing our direction. Waiting. Not attacking. Just waiting.
They don't move a single inch, even as we reach the edge of the roots that lead down into the collapse. Which is even more terrifying to me than if they were actively trying to ward us off. And the others seem to agree. Sweat is accumulating on Thorpe's forehead, Ethel has her helmet visor down, and Steppan hasn't lowered his shield for even a second.
Lord Felix, who had been speaking very confidently before, is keeping very close to me and looks like he's about to swallow his own tongue. His pudgy hand white-knuckling the hilt of a dagger on his belt.
He said he could defend himself a bit ago, and I know nobles definitely have that privilege. But something tells me he isn't all that confident in it.
Wuinn kneels next to the edge of the collapse and scans the area. "This is as close as I could get before. Anymore, and they start getting jumpy." The [Scout] raises a hand to point out the collection of boulders, which I am now realizing are clustered very unnaturally in the center of the dirt bowl. And judging by how the dirt is piled up around the bottom edges, these all rose out of the ground. "These obviously weren't here the first time. In fact, looks like they covered her up more after I left a few minutes ago, too."
Thorpe sighs, "They might just be too loyal to leave." The old man rubs a hand down his face and shakes his head. "I gave that throw everything I had. If she was already wounded, I'd think that would have finished her off."
Ethel grunts, the sound reverberating inside her helmet. "And I'm supposing you can't do that attack again?"
Old Guard looks like he ages another ten years just at the thought of that. "Good lord, no. Would probably put me six feet under. Already feeling deathly enough already."
My nose scrunches. "If you're that tired, then maybe we should just leave her be. If she's not already dead, then she likely will be soon." I comment off-handedly.
Thorpe looks over his shoulder at me and shakes his head. "I'll be alright, kiddo. I'm just exaggerating—mostly." He cracks a grin at me before crouching in front of us, stretching out his legs and arms with resounding pops. "We can make this real quick." His finger raises and sweeps across the group. "I'm the fastest, save for our [Scouts] here and Liore. But I'm the only one who's fast and can use Valor. Her hide is too thick for anything less."
Ethel nods, removing her bastard sword from her back and unsheathing it. "So we'll keep them busy then."
Steppan grimaces, still keeping his shield mostly up and close to him. Peeking out from over the edge of it as he faces it towards the imposing rabbit-shaped shadows. "Is it too late to say I am not at all confident I can—and I quote—'keep them busy?'"
Ethel turns her head swiftly on her secondary, the segmented neck guard rustling as she does, the sharp nose of her sallet aiming at him like a spear. "I've seen you defend against a bloody wyrmling for five minutes on your own. But it's some oversized bunnies that make you think twice?"
Steppan looks taken aback at that, his brows tilting inward at her. "A wyrmling can't kick me hard enough to make me explode!"
My eyes widen at that, reminding me of that [Bandit] who got blasted apart by the Kite. Someone who I certainly don't want to end up like.
Lord Felix clears his throat before the two mercenaries can continue arguing. "Yes, I am sure that these creatures shall be polite enough to let you two ramble before they summarily crush us to bits. Let us stay on task, people."
Ethel and Steppan both go quiet and nod. The old man offers the nobleman an appreciative nod before scanning the group. "Our archers will get shots in and break concentration while our heavy hitters draw their attention by rushing the little fort they've put together. Heavy hitters will be backed up by my [Guards]. And I'll speed in and—I suppose put her out of her misery if she's even still alive."
Even as he says it, I can tell he is at his wits' end about this situation. The Den Mother should already be dead. The rest of its horde has already scattered off. And yet the most dangerous of its kin are still here as if it's alive. Are we even sure they will leave? Because it feels like we might just be fighting these things to the death either way, and Thorpe is just putting a lot of hope in an easy out.
But I guess we are all hoping along with him. Even if it might be unwise.
The group finally gets up, as prepared as they can possibly be. Steppan Ethel, Thorpe, and the [Guards] near the edge of the collapse. And before they can question it further, they each slide down the dirt wall to land below. The imposing honor guard finally stirring, their ears twitching and noses wiggling in agitation. Their back feet make threatening thumps that seem to shake the earth beneath our feet. I lower myself to a crouch beside a tree near the edge, Lord Felix settling in next to me.
'AWAY'
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as a deep guttural voice echoes into my ears, reverberating from the closest of the black Jackalopes.
'GO'
'HALT'
The others of its kin join in, each echoing a warning of their own. Simple and to the point. Each sending tingles through my ears and against my brain.
"Wait!" The [Ranger] calls out to the others, currently in the process of climbing up one of the trees, but he drops back down. His grizzled face carries a sharp focus as he kneels on the edge of the collapse. The group below stops in its tracks, most of them keeping their attention forward still, save for Ethel, who turns and flips her sallet up. "What is it, Arric?"
The [Ranger] holds up a hand to gesture that she should wait a moment. The Hascan furrows his brow as he locks eyes with the closest one, the one who spoke first. His lips drawback from his teeth, exposing his longer canines. Just like Tarfyrs were. The [Ranger] sucks in a sharp breath, and the words that come out are unintelligible. More akin to hisses, gags, and chuffs. I can see several people in our group looking confused at the strange noises the man is making. Ethel doesn't seem too surprised, at least. Steppan just looks annoyed.
But me. It isn't the strange noises that have taken me by surprise.
It's that I understand them...
As the [Ranger] vocalizes, the sounds echo in my ears just like the jackalopes did, but this time I have actual pronunciation to match them. 'Why still here? She rejoin cycle. Dangerous. Leave.'
The Jackalopes snap their attention in his direction. And the group below is definitely noticing. Ser Ethel looks back up towards her [Ranger]. "Can you hear them, Arric? Are they speaking?"
The [Ranger] nods. "They're pretty blunt. They don't seem to know much, but I am sure it's enough."
Ser Steppan groans and shakes his head. "Not this nonsense again..."
But Thorpe is staring at Ethel with quite a lot of hope now. "You got yourself a Hascan who can speak monster? And I thought I was lucky."
The [Ranger] returned his attention to the Jackalopes and repeated what he had asked them before. Albeit, he seems to shorten it down even more. 'Why here? You run. Danger here.'
The closest one thumps its back legs on the boulder beneath it. Letting out a huff through its nose. 'YOU. LEAVE. GO. MOTHER. PROTECT.'
Arric rolls his shoulders and responds with more of a forceful tone. 'Mother gone. Life gone. Mother ordered you go. Leave. Danger'
A small gasp escapes my lips. Part of his response catching my attention. I can't say for sure without asking, but it certainly implies it enough. He heard her too. Back before Thorpe threw the spear.
"Can you hear them as well, Miss Liore?"
My blood runs cold as the eloquent tone of Lord Felix speaks from beside me. Slowly turning my head to meet his gaze, accompanied by that comically arched eyebrow. I was so focused on the fact that I now know someone who might be able to explain some of my skills to me that I forgot that the Nobleman was this close by.
"I—uh," I mumble quietly, my heart pounding against my ribs. Unsure of how to even answer that. A flat no, certainly, but would it even convince him at this point. I've already proven myself as an oddity enough already.
The nobleman's eyes soften somewhat. "I won't ask how. Not now. But if you can hear them, I would appreciate knowing what they are saying."
For a moment, I just stare at him. Surprise is not even an appropriate enough word to describe what I am feeling. I suppose relief should be one of them, but mixed with a silent terror too overwhelming to admit. He, at least, doesn't look disingenuous, but he has more than proven he is capable of masking himself very well. But if a man who has questioned every single thing he has been shown from the moment he arrived is suddenly pushing questions aside...
It's because he already knows something.
My throat closes up a bit at the thought. But I push through the nausea welling up inside and turn my attention back towards the strange diplomatic exchange. Steeling myself further, I cycle in a deep breath. Still feeling the Noblemen's eyes on the back of my head. "They're—they're not leaving. Saying they have to protect their mother. He is trying to convince them to go, reminding them that she is dead and it's dangerous for them to stay." I finally answer for him.
He is quiet for a few moments before he gives a low, curious hum. "I've only ever heard rumors that some of the Hascan's can communicate with monsters. I knew there was truth to it as the Scout Corps employs them when investigating claims of large Dwiyte colonies. I always just assumed for tracking. The Dwiyte have proven they can speak Grandian language in some instances." He details passively, information that does catch my interest, but my attention continues to be pulled towards the diplomacy occurring. And it doesn't seem to be going very well.
'REFUSE. LEAVE. KILL.'
The black jackalope echoes with a fury most evident in both its tone and its body language. Leaping down from its perch to the dirt below with a heavy thud, it's breathren joining it as their deep black fur puffs up and exposes tinges of white undercoat. Thorpe's team immediately taking a step back and forming a defensive. The old man's eyes glancing towards the cage of rock the Jackalopes had erected to cover the den mother's body.
The [Ranger] grimaces and growls, shaking his head at the others below. "I'm sorry. I tried. The stubborn bastards are not budging." He calls out to them, frustration obvious on his features.
Ethel frowns but gives the man a passive wave. "At least you tried. We will take it from here. Just give us cover!" Her attention snapping to me with a stern gaze. "And Liore! You keep that silly man out of danger!"
Lord Felix scoffs beside me but doesn't make any attempt to refute her. So I offer her the most resolute nod I can muster. "I've got him!"
Arric and the two [Scouts] have already spread out further up into the trees. Ethel and Steppan begin to fan out, each with two of the [Guards] behind them. Thorpe keeping to the center. The Jackalopes seeming to get the idea of the plan already. Two of the five are sticking close around the stone defenses. The ground vibrating idly as they prepare to defend themselves.
But just as it looks like Thorpe is about to bolt, the air feels like it changes. Something that becomes immediately noticeable. The tops of the trees rustle loudly as the wind picks up.
The Jackalopes seem to react first, their bodies tucking up and laying down. Their noses wiggle nervously while their ears fold back.
Thorpe, Ethel, and Steppan all back up and move the others with them, likely noticing the shift as well. The ground rumbles from the stone defenses the jackalopes raised. The massive sharp boulders spearing up through the earth begin to sink back into the ground, gradually revealing what they were protecting.
The entire world around us seems to fade into the background. Tiny motes of light float off of her stark white fur that is stained red and crusted. Her body is nearly taking up half the rest of the clearing. Splayed out across the dirt. Thorpe's spear is embedded in her chest, the fur around it charred and burned away. Her belly does not move with any discernible breath. I would think she was dead if not for her head being ever so slightly lifted to peer around her.
She barely looks like a rabbit at all. Certainly, the face is a giveaway, but her body shares more traits with that of a fox than anything, aside from her feet and the puffball tail. Her antlers sweep backward and then curl forward into 12 points, the surface of them textured with swirling pearlescent rings like soap on top of water. Several breaches into the fat and muscle from massive claws and teeth score her hide. Already festering from days of being left untended. It's a wonder how she even made it this long. Though she has certainly proven to be stalwart.
But despite it all. She's breathtaking.
Silence holds for longer than a few breaths that we all seem to hold. It's Thorpe who finally breaks it as he takes a step forward. His voice shaky and filled with barely contained emotion. "H—hey there, old girl." The old man chokes out, shaking his head. "God damn, look at what that thing did to you."
He takes two more faltering steps before the black jackalopes begin to get agitated, raising to their feet.
'SIT'
Her command echoes from her, not just into my ears, but into the very air itself. Kicking up dirt as it reverberates. Her children immediately settle back down, their faces twitching in agitation. Ethel, Steppan, and the [Guards] seem to take it as a warning instead, not able to hear the words themselves.
'LET HIM PASS'
Arric from up in his tree calls down. "Wait! She is telling them to let him through!"
Thorpe doesn't seem to need any more encouragement than that as he walks towards her. Bypassing her honor guard, who certainly don't seem pleased by this, but cannot disobey.
Old Guard slows as he nears her head, dropping himself down to sit in front of it. His left hand shakily resting on the space between her eyes as she lowers her head directly into his lap. A contentful purr sending low rumbles to us even from this distance.
"I have a feeling that Mr. Thorpe might have done much more than rescue it from a Manticore." The nobleman remarks quietly beside me, echoing the thoughts already present in mind. Tears stinging at my eyes.
"Mama—mama says Thorpe has done more for the village than even she knows," I mutter back, watching my Mentor sit with the creature more like a friend than anything less. "And one of the most important lessons he ever taught me. Was that not every monster needs to die. And that every one he has let live is as much apart of keeping us safe as he is."
Lord Felix gives a light hum in response. "I have heard. It is certainly sound advice. Something that obviously comes from decades of experience—and trial and error."
I know quite a lot about Thorpe. More than most do. But I don't think I have even scratched the surface of what Thorpe has done and gone through to become who he is. And because of it all, I don't think I could have ever had a better teacher. I think it is the only thing I truly consider myself lucky to have. Other than my own mother of course.
The black jackalopes suddenly shudder and stand, their fur puffing up. Putting the others in our group back on the defensive. But instead of attacking, the honor guard thump wildly against the ground angirly before whirling and bounding away into the trees. One of them stopping right next to Thorpe, breathing down his neck ominously for a split second before it joins the rest. The echoed thumps of their leaps getting quieter and quieter as they leave.
Small flecks of gold light disperse where the spear was embedded in the den mother's chest. And I can now see the shaft of the weapon jutting out to the right and into the dirt from Thorpe's lap. And by the angle of it...
Thorpe pulls the spear back and lays it on the ground next to him. His right hand smooths over her eyes, closing them, before he returns to kneading his fingers through its fur.
A frown tugs hard at my lips, my cheeks wetter than I thought they would be before coming out here to end this horrible day. I want so much to run over there and hug him. But this isn't a moment that I should insert myself into.
Lord Felix sits himself in the grass next to me, removing his small journal from his coat, and begins to write. His own eyes seem wetter as well. Easier to tell with dark streaks of makeup he layers around them. "We shall give Mr. Thorpe his time to grieve."
I nod slowly and settle myself down across from him. Ethel and Steppan seem to be giving the allowance as well, ordering the others in our group to instead fan the area for security. Not that I think we need it.
Lord Felix stops his writing, snapping the book shut and sliding it back into his coat. His makeup has washed away from the cold humidity and the rain, his hair wet and wiry, and the styled curl of his mustache is now loose and clings down against his cheeks. And yet he still has a regal aura to him that is unmistakable.
"I think. That now might be an apt moment for us to talk one-on-one." He states lightly, sending a wave of nausea through me. "Not at length, mind you. I think it would be a better fit over a meal. Something more relaxing than this dreadful atmosphere."
My lip quivers at that. "Then—then why now?"
The nobleman's stare stays gentle, no hardness to it. Nothing threatening. "Because there is something I want to understand first before we go any further. Such as the truth of your class. And keep in mind, please, that I am not attempting to discomfort you."
My arms wrap around my midsection, hugging myself tightly as my eyes can barely keep focused on him. "So you already know—what I am..." I mutter, feeling my heart thudding in my ears.
He chuckles. "Hardly. I mean, I know what I first saw you as at least. A [Farmer]. But someone as worldly as Mr. Thorpe must have had a little trinket stashed away that hid that fact." The nobleman details, folding his own arms over his chest and resting his hands on his portly belly. "He likely thought I would have exhausted my charges in a panic by the end of yesterday. But he is not as clever as he thinks. Not to insult the man, though."
My face scrunches up almost in pain at that. So he knew from the moment he saw me. Thorpe was just wrong. "I'm sorry. I hate lying about it. I don't mean to. I promise I'm not a threat or—"
"Miss Liore. You do not need to convince me you aren't a threat." He cuts me off plainly. "I certainly considered you might be some planted threat when Mr. Thorpe covered for you initially last night. I was already suspicious of him to begin with. But it became easily clear you are truly Mrs. Perro's daughter. There was no doubt about that. You are a spitting image of her." Lord Felix offers a casual smile. "And even after seeing that you have [Secrets] enchanted on something, it was difficult for me to believe you were any sort of threat to me or mine. Even though almost everything about you was rather strange. But I assumed I would get answers to it when things calmed down."
His expression gets quite a bit more serious. "But then I saw you fight from the safety of the barn. And everything after that and leading up to now has made me realize that your situation is far more complicated than I initially expected."
I've been staring at him as he speaks, unsure of how to broach the topic now, either. Because I truly don't much of anything either. But I am surprised he is being as open to the oddity of it. "I don't even really understand much myself., I state honestly, finally meeting his curious gaze despite the fear of his reaction.
He offers an understanding nod before settling his hands onto his knees. "All I know is that you seem to be getting access to skills that certainly aren't a [Knights], and most definitely are not a [Farmers]." He states firmly on that fact. "And not even to begin with the fact that you are still just level 1, and yet you have shown a level of combat prowess that has shocked all three of the veteran mercenaries in my retinue."
My lips form a thin line as the nobleman reads me for bare. But it isn't as though I have hidden all that well, even with the stupid necklace Thorpe gave me. "I was born a [Farmer]. That's what my class should be. But..." The words catch in my throat for a brief moment. "But an accident occurred. I found what Thorpe thinks was some kind of 'Class Book' in a ruin near the village. But it wasn't normal. And it—did something to me. Broke my class somehow. I can't level up, I've been trying for years. Can't even do my [Farmer] class quest."
The nobleman's brows arch upward in surprise. His hand raises to stroke his round chin in thought. "That is certainly rather strange. I have not heard of such a thing ever happening. But I suppose I am not anywhere near an expert on the matter."
A sound of footsteps catches our attention as both of our heads turn to see Thorpe finally approaching. And by the look on his face, he is definitely not doing very well. Sending an ache through my chest.
The nobleman lets out a soft sigh. "We shall continue this at a more relaxing setting as stated. But thank you for giving me at least a notion of the complexity."
I offer him a small nod, feeling at least less stressed about it, but no less fearful of what he might think of me when he learns what I can actually do. But that will be later.
For now. Someone else takes precedence.
Thorpe steps up near the incline below us, tilting his head back to meet our attention. The slump in his face worrying me even further. And his deadpan tone doesn't help.
"Let's go home..."