Blood and Burden

The town of Horgzene lay in an eerie silence, its streets empty and its buildings standing like hollow sentinels under the pale light of the sun. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, as if the very breath of life had been sucked out of the place. Nathanael and Amara stepped down from the wagon, their boots crunching softly against the gravel as they scanned their surroundings. The absence of people was unsettling, the kind of quiet that pressed against the ears and made the skin prickle with unease.

"This place feels… wrong," Amara murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the silence. "Where is everyone?"

Nathanael didn't answer immediately. His sharp eyes roamed the deserted streets, taking in the shuttered windows and the faint traces of movement behind drawn curtains. "They're here," he said finally, his voice low. "Just hiding."

They moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing faintly in the emptiness. The town seemed to watch them, its silence a living thing that followed their every move. It wasn't long before Nathanael spotted a faint glow emanating from a building further down the street—a bar, its sign creaking softly in the breeze. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could see the faint outline of a figure moving behind the counter.

"There," he said, gesturing toward the bar. "Someone's inside."

Amara nodded, her hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of her dagger as they approached. The door groaned softly as Nathanael pushed it open, the dim interior of the bar revealing itself in shadowy increments. At first, the figure behind the counter was little more than a silhouette, tall and broad-shouldered, its movements smooth and deliberate. But as Nathanael's eyes adjusted to the gloom, the details began to emerge, and he froze.

The figure was not human.

It was a wolf—or at least, something resembling one. Standing upright on two legs, its fur was a sleek blend of gray and brown, its muzzle sharp and its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. It wore clothing that was surprisingly refined: a tailored vest over a crisp white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful, fur-covered forearms. The creature—no, the being—turned to face them, its lips curling into what might have been a smile, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth.

"Welcome," the wolfman said, his voice deep and resonant, with a cadence that was almost musical. "You look like you've never seen a beastman before." He gestured toward a stool at the bar, his clawed hand moving with an elegance that belied his animalistic appearance. "Take a seat."

Nathanael hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to retreat, but he forced himself to step forward. He moved slowly, his eyes never leaving the wolfman as he took a seat at the bar. Up close, the details were even more striking. The beastman's fur was thick and well-groomed, his clothing immaculate, and his movements carried a grace that was almost hypnotic. Despite his fears, Nathanael found himself intrigued.

"What can I get you?" the wolfman asked, his tone polite but laced with a hint of amusement.

"Just water," Nathanael replied, his voice steady despite the unease coiled in his chest.

The wolfman nodded and turned to fill a glass from a pitcher, his movements fluid and precise. As he set the glass in front of Nathanael, he placed a small bowl of complementary chips beside it. "On the house," he said with a slight bow of his head. "My name is Felzys. I'm of the Lycan tribe."

Nathanael's brow furrowed as he picked up the glass, his fingers brushing against the cool surface. "Lycan?" he repeated, his tone cautious.

Felzys nodded, his golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and patience. "Yes. Lycan. We're not wolves, mind you—wolves are mere animals. We're… something more. An evolved version, if you will." He leaned against the counter, his claws tapping lightly against the polished wood. "We've lived alongside humans for centuries, though I suppose you wouldn't know much about that, coming from the north."

Nathanael took a sip of his water, his mind racing as he processed the information. The existence of beastmen was something he had only heard of in vague, half-whispered tales. To encounter one in the flesh—especially one as composed and articulate as Felzys—was both fascinating and unnerving.

Amara, who had been standing quietly by the door, finally stepped forward, her curiosity outweighing her caution. "So, you're not… dangerous?" she asked, her tone more curious than accusatory.

Felzys chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to fill the room. "Not unless you give me a reason to be," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "But don't worry. I'm just a humble bartender. My job is to serve drinks and listen to stories, not start trouble."

Nathanael exchanged a glance with Amara, the tension in the room easing slightly. Despite his initial apprehension, he couldn't deny that Felzys had a certain charm—a charisma that made it difficult to see him as a threat.

"So," Felzys said, leaning back and crossing his arms, "what brings you to Horgzene? It's not often we get visitors, especially these days."

Nathanael hesitated, his mind racing as he weighed his words. "We're just passing through," he said finally, his tone neutral. "Looking for information."

Felzys's ears twitched, his expression thoughtful. "Information, huh? Well, you've come to the right place. Horgzene's full of secrets. The trick is knowing who to ask."

Nathanael's eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. "And who would that be?"

Felzys smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "That depends on what you're looking for. But if you're willing to share a story or two, I might be able to point you in the right direction."

*****

With that, the lycan turned back to the bar, his claws idly polishing a glass as if the weight of the world hadn't just been laid bare. Nathanael exchanged a glance with Amara, her sharp eyes reflecting the same unease he felt.

Finally, Nathanael cleared his throat, his voice steady but cautious. "I'm Nate," he said, gesturing to himself, then to Amara. "And this is Amara. We're… wandering merchants. We've come a long way, and we're trying to understand what's happening here. What's happened to this town?"

Felzys paused, his golden eyes narrowing as he set the glass down with deliberate care. "Ah," he said, his tone shifting to one of mild reproach. "I did say I'd answer your questions, but not without a story first. A fair exchange, wouldn't you say? You share something of your journey, and I'll share something of mine."

Nathanael hesitated, his mind racing as he weighed his options. He glanced at Amara, who gave a subtle nod, her expression one of cautious encouragement. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, his voice low but clear. "We're from the north," he began. "Erelion, the capital of the empire. We've traveled far, gathering goods from the south to bring back north. Rare goods, the kind that fetch a high price in the markets up there."

Felzys's ears twitched, his interest visibly piqued. "Erelion, you say?" he murmured, his voice carrying a note of intrigue. "That's quite the journey. Go on."

Nathanael nodded, his confidence growing as he continued. "It's all supply and demand, really. The south has resources the north lacks—spices, textiles, certain metals. We're just… facilitators, I suppose. Moving goods where they're needed most."

The lycan's lips curled into a faint smile, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Supply and demand," he repeated, his tone almost amused. "Basic stuff, as they say. But tell me, are these goods of yours from the north as well? Or are they purely southern treasures?"

Nathanael faltered, his mind scrambling for an answer. He hadn't actually checked the contents of their wagon in detail, a fact that now left him at a disadvantage. Before he could respond, Amara stepped in, her voice calm and measured. "Some are from the north," she said, her tone casual but firm. "But most are from the central regions. We spent a few days there, restocking and… well, laying low for a bit."

Felzys's eyes gleamed with newfound interest, his gaze shifting between the two of them. "Is that so?" he said, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "Well, then, perhaps we can adjust our arrangement. Instead of stories, why not trade information for goods? A fair exchange, wouldn't you say?"

Amara didn't hesitate. "Agreed," she said, her tone decisive. "What do you want to know?"

Felzys chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to fill the room. "Oh, I think we've already established that," he said, his claws tapping lightly against the counter. "But first, let's see what you've got."

With that, he raised a clawed hand and knocked three times on the counter, the sound sharp and deliberate. Almost instantly, two figures emerged from the shadows at the back of the bar, their presence startling enough to make Nathanael and Amara instinctively reach for their weapons.

The first was a hulking figure, his Porcean heritage evident in his broad snout and tusks, his frame muscular and imposing despite the tailored jacket he wore. The second was smaller, lithe and sharp-eyed, his Ratfolk features unmistakable as his whiskers twitched with curiosity. Both moved with a quiet confidence, their eyes fixed on Nathanael and Amara as they approached.

Felzys gestured to the newcomers with a casual wave of his hand. "This is Borak," he said, indicating the Porcean, "and Tivik," he added, nodding to the Ratfolk. "They'll be inspecting your goods. Don't worry—they're professionals."

Nathanael's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, his unease growing as the two beastmen moved toward the wagon. Amara, though equally wary, kept her hand near her dagger but didn't draw it, her eyes never leaving the newcomers.

The inspection was quick but thorough, Borak's large hands surprisingly gentle as he sifted through the crates and barrels, while Tivik's sharp eyes missed nothing, his nose twitching as he sniffed at the various items. After a few tense moments, they stepped back, their expressions unreadable.

"The goods are of high quality," Borak said, his voice deep and gravelly. "Well-preserved and valuable."

Tivik nodded in agreement, his whiskers twitching as he added, "A fine selection. You've got a good eye for trade."

Felzys smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Excellent. Now, as promised, I'll answer your questions. What is it you want to know?"

Nathanael hesitated, his mind racing as he weighed his words. "We want to know about this town," he said finally, his tone cautious. "Horgzene. Why does it feel so… abandoned?"

Felzys's expression darkened, his golden eyes narrowing as he considered the question. "Ah," he said, his voice low and somber. "That's a complicated story. Horgzene has always been a place of… tension. Caught between the empire and the Klythen Kingdom, it's never truly belonged to either. But lately, things have gotten worse."

He leaned against the counter, his claws tapping lightly against the polished wood. "The empire's been tightening its grip, sending more soldiers, more patrols. The people here—they don't like it. They've lived in peace for generations, and now they're being treated like enemies in their own homes. So, they've gone into hiding. They're still here, but they're keeping to themselves, waiting to see how things play out."

Amara frowned, her brow furrowing as she processed the information. "And the Klythen Kingdom? What's their role in all this?"

Felzys's lips curled into a grim smile. "The Klythen Kingdom sees Horgzene as theirs. They've been making moves, testing the empire's defenses. It's only a matter of time before things boil over. And when they do…" He trailed off, his expression darkening. "Well, let's just say Horgzene won't be the only place affected."

Nathanael's mind raced as he absorbed the information, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. Horgzene was a powder keg, its people caught in the crossfire of two powerful forces. And now, he and Amara were walking straight into the heart of it.

"Thank you," Nathanael said finally, his voice quiet but sincere. "For the information."

Felzys nodded, his expression softening slightly. "You're welcome. But be careful. The south is a dangerous place these days. And if you're planning to stay in Horgzene, keep your wits about you. Not everyone here is as friendly as I am."