Hale watched as the barbarian woman stepped closer. She was completely bald, her face carved with scars and lined with tattoos that made her look more beast than human. In her hands was a plate stacked with roasted game meat and a rough, flat bread. With a key taken from her belt, she rattled it into the lock and swung the cage door open with a smirk.
"Here you go, Aenvari scum," she drawled, shoving the plate toward him. "You should be kissing Brom's filthy boots for his generosity. Not every rat gets a last meal, after all."
Brom? The orange-haired dude from before? Damn, if you really wanted to help, you'd be helping me escape this cage instead of feeding me scraps, Hale thought bitterly.
The bald woman suddenly turned sideways and, without warning, delivered a sharp slap across the dark-skinned girl's face.
Slap!
"You'd best keep your filthy hands off that Aenvari scum," she snarled. "His fate belongs to Blood-Daughter alone. And she doesn't like her toys being spoiled by a cursed beast like you."
Hale's eyes narrowed, the cold settling in his chest as he watched. A thin line of blood trailed from the girl's lip, yet she only smiled faintly, as if the blow meant nothing.
"Thoo…" The barbarian spat on her with sharp contempt before stepping back through the cage door. She slammed it shut, twisted the lock, and stalked away.
Thud.
The heavy wooden door closed behind her, plunging the prison back into dim, suffocating shadow.
"Are you alright?" Hale asked the Nyxari girl.
She gave a small laugh. "Hehehe… this is nothing. I've gotten used to these speciallove treatments they give me."
Hale shifted closer, awkwardly leaning in with his bound hands. He brushed away the blood from her lip as best he could.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
The girl blinked, surprised. Then she smiled warmly. "You're really kind. Why are you apologizing? If anything, I should be thanking you for not looking at me like some beast."
"That's not it," Hale said, shaking his head. "I just… thought I should do something. But let's be honest, if she hit me like that, I'd probably be dead already."
The girl chuckled, her eyes narrowing as if she couldn't figure him out. "You truly are weak. Why, though? Didn't your Narnian tribe teach you any arts to cultivate your body?"
"Ahm…" Hale froze, caught off guard. Then he forced a straight face. "Well, we don't really use violence, you see. We're… a peaceful tribe."
"Hmm… is that so?" The Nyxari tilted her head, clearly suspicious.
Before she could press further, Hale quickly grabbed the plate. He tore off a chunk of game meat and broke the bread-like loaf in half, handing them to her. "Here. Take these."
"You're giving me this? Don't you want it?" she asked, genuinely surprised.
"I'm not really hungry right now. The rest is enough for me."
"Oh… thank you." She accepted it eagerly and bit into the food like someone who hadn't eaten in ages.
"Mmh… chomp chomp… You know…" she spoke through mouthfuls, "…I've been starving for four days straight."
Hale raised his brow in surprise. Four days without food? He couldn't imagine how that felt. "Then you can have my share too. Here," he said, moving the plate toward her.
She paused mid-bite and looked at him. "Why are you being kind to me? We've only known each other for what, 10 minutes?"
Hale met her gaze and said seriously, "Consider it a thanks for your lap pillow."
They stared at each other for a moment before she burst into laughter. "Hahaha…hehe… I like that one."
Hale smiled lightly, feeling like he'd just made a friend in this strange world.
"But no, I don't need the food anymore. I'm not that ungrateful. You can eat it."
"Are you sure?" Hale asked.
"Yes, yes… You can ask me if you need any help. Ahh… I didn't get your name?"
"Oh, I forgot… I'm Hale. What about you?" he answered truthfully. After all, it's not like anyone here was going to go, Wait, he's Hale, the famous chicken farmer from Earth, isn't he?
"Hale…" the girl muttered. "I go by Sely."
"Sely, huh… So Sely, I really wanted to ask; can you tell me about the Aenvari and why everyone thinks I'm one?" Hale inquired.
"You really don't know about the Aenvari tribe? What about the Drakthars that captured you?" she asked.
"No idea… Didn't I say I'm not from here? But the things I know, you cannot fathom." Hale grabbed and stroked his non-existent white beard like some sage, despite his bound hands.
"So, can you fill me in on who these people are and why they're so hostile toward each other?" Hale pressed.
Sely raised a brow, finished her food and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Hmm… well, I'll start by talking about the Aenvari then," she said.
* * *
An hour had passed since Hale asked about the tribes. He was leaning back against the wooden wall, Sely already asleep with her head resting on his lap. He had made her eat some of his food, since he wasn't very hungry himself. Hale let her words sink in and began to reminisce about everything she had told him.
The three tribes she had explained were the Drakthar, the Aenvari, and the Nyxari.
The Drakthar were the ones who had captured him. They resembled human barbarians, covered in tattoos and rippling muscles. Their beliefs centered on strength; raw, physical power above all else.
The Nyxari tribe was made up of dark-skinned people like Sely, believed to be descendants of the dark elves, or drows. They specialized in assassinations, covert operations, and other shady tasks. Those with purer bloodlines, like Sely, had slightly pointed ears. Both the Aenvari and Drakthar despised them, considering them a cursed or ugly species.
Then there was the Aenvari tribe, believed to be descendants of elves. Hale had been mistaken for one of them because many Aenvari members looked similar to him; essentially like modern humans. According to Sely, the Aenvari were even more handsome and prideful than ordinary humans. Those with higher bloodline purity had slightly pointed ears, though nothing like the elongated ears of pureblood elves.
The Aenvari and Drakthar were in a constant state of war, which had recently intensified. The Aenvari discovered and occupied a mana stone mine near the borders of Drakthar territory. Would the Drakthar give up something as valuable as a mana stone mine without a fight? Absolutely not.
One of the main reasons the Drakthar hated the Aenvari was both jealousy and fear. Although mana existed, few could actually wield magical abilities like casting fireballs. Most people only used mana to strengthen their bodies through their tribe's unique arts.
The Aenvari were no different. Yet, a rare few in their tribe, either by luck or bloodline—were born attuned to an element. Those individuals could cast magic naturally, and if strong enough, could cause devastating destruction.
The naturally born people capable of using magic were collectively called The Mystics. Females were sometimes called witches, and males, warlocks.
From what he had heard from Sely, the hatred between the two tribes had started only recently.
The chieftain of the Drakthar tribe had once kidnapped an Aenvari girl. The youngest daughter born from them was a witch—meaning someone naturally born with the ability to use magic; the first ever born with magical powers among the Drakthar. The Aenvari were furious. They never imagined that someone outside their tribe could bear a magic user. In a fit of rage, they attacked the Drakthar territory.
From that moment, tension rose. The Drakthars began kidnapping more Aenvari people in the hope of breeding more magic users for their tribe. But no progress followed, no other Mystics were born; which calmed the tension slightly.
Now, with the discovery of a mana stone mine, tensions flared higher than ever. The reason was simple: mana stones were required to speed up tribal arts, enhance the body, and empower Mystics.
The real problem for Hale, however, was that the Drakthars who had captured him assumed he was an Aenvari. The Blood-Daughter, one of the chieftain's daughters (not the witch), currently residing at this outpost near the border, would decide his fate. He didn't need to imagine what that fate might be.
He looked at the ceiling of the wooden house above him and muttered, "Mom… our promise… sigh…"
Hale glanced at Sely and slowly ran his hand over her head. Haah… what a f*cked-up situation.