Assassin's Chronicle

Chapter 144: Beasts

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

It took Anfey a minute to process what he was seeing when he first saw Moramatch. It was a large town with a lot of houses, but the houses were all of different sizes. Some houses were short and small, barely seven feet tall, while others were tall. The difference was striking and made the city looked very ugly.

This, however, did not come as a surprise. A human of normal height would build taller, bigger houses. Dwarves and gnomes, who were generally less than three foot tall, built the smaller, shorter houses.

Anfey remembered listening to a traveling minstrel’s songs when he was still in Sacred City. The main character of the story was a human hero who was well liked by every race. He was welcomed by the dwarves, who gave the hero one of their best weapons. The hero commented on how well made the weapon was and waved the weapon around. The dwarves lauded the hero for his work for the world. The hero lounged in the home of the dwarf leader and was treated like a royalty. There was a fruitless love story, as well.

He had to admit, though, there was a huge difference between the story and real life. The house was too low for a man to straighten his back in, let along wave around a weapon. Even though the dwarves were well known for crafting weapons, Anfey had never actually seen a dwarf-made weapon. Stories tended to use humans as their focus, and all the other races existed to serve and assist the human hero. That was likely why dwarves would waste precious materials to craft weapons suitable for humans, then hide the weapon away until a certain hero appeared. They wasted precious materials and countless hours just so they could wait for the human hero.

Staying with the dwarves must have been even more boring. The dwarves must have small beds, and it must have taken half a dozen beds to make one bed suitable for a human. Having a love affair with a dwarf woman was even more unthinkable. Anfey imagined himself holding Shally, and shuddered at the thought.

"What’s wrong?" Suzanna asked him.

Thank god she couldn’t read his mind! Thankfully everyone had the right to keep their thoughts away from the world. If Suzanna learned what Anfey was thinking, she would not waste time asking him what was wrong.

"Nothing," Anfey said. "I just thought about how much work we have to do."

"What are you worrying about? You won’t actually have to work." Suzanna grinned at him.

Steel was forged under pressure. Experience, strength, and wits came from practice and time. Insensitivity was something that came with time, as well. The first time Suzanna held hands with Anfey, she was blushing and flustered. Later, when they were talking and stargazing, Suzanna found herself stumbling over her own words. Now they were holding hands, but Suzanna was acting much more natural.

Suzanna also could feel that Anfey would often stare at her feet. That was why Suzanna took off her boots after the two of them went to Anfey’s carriage. Women would not only dress to impress their lovers, sometimes they would undress to impress them.

"There are a lot of things other than physical work," Anfey said. Suzanna’s hand was soft and gentle in his hand. It was hard to imagine such a gentle hand could bring about so much destruction.

"Anfey, can I come in?" Christian knocked on the carriage and asked.

"No," Anfey said.

"What are you doing?" Suzanna asked hurriedly. She rolled her eyes at Anfey. Not letting Christian inside right now meant that there would be rumors saying they were doing something inappropriate. "Christian, come in," Suzanna called. She drew her hand back and covered her feet with her dress.

"What should I do about you two?" Christian asked, smiling. "Anfey, we’re about to enter the town."

"Wait in here, Suzanna," Anfey said. "You’re our trump card."

Suzanna nodded and smiled sweetly. She did not care for other’s adoration, but Anfey wasn't just anyone.

Anfey climbed out of the carriage. Feller, who was driving the carriage, moved over to make space for him. Anfey observed the town carefully. Perhaps it was because the caravan was too large, no one tried to stop them. There were shadows in the houses, as if the residents were observing them.

"Christian, tell Black Eleven to keep his men outside of the city. We’re going in by ourselves," Anfey said.

Christian nodded in response.

The caravan split into two. Half a dozen carriages entered the city, while the rest stayed behind. They found a clearing not far from the town. Under an old tree was a large bell. Clearly this was where the leader of the town called the residents together for meetings.

"Feller, sound the bell," Anfey ordered.

"No one would reply," Feller argued.

"Try it anyway."

Feller nodded. However, before he could get off of his horse, he heard a loud thud coming from a large house to the right. The door was pushed open and a woman dashed out.

The woman wasn’t two feet away from the house when a werewolf chased out after her and grabbed her by her hair. The woman grunted in pain, and her head was drawn back. Anfey’s eyes flashed with strange emotions. He recognized the woman.

"Barak! Let her go! She saved my life," a few other werewolves jumped out of a nearby alleyway and called.

The werewolf in the lead was wounded, his left arm was covered with different colored fabrics, and he limped as he walked. He was with two other werewolves, and stared at the first werewolf angrily.

The werewolf called Barak shook his head and said slowly, "She is my slave now."

"What do you mean? Are you trying to shame me?" the other werewolf barked.

Barak smirked but did not say anything. He turned his head and glanced at Anfey.

"Are they acting?" Feller leaned over and asked.

"I don’t know, but I know the woman isn't acting," Anfey said. "Go sound the bells."

Feller walked over to the bell. He grabbed the large wood stake that hung next to the bell and began hitting it. The bell made a deep sound that could be heard throughout the town.

The werewolves were well aware of the bell’s sound, but they did not even turn their heads. None of the townspeople came, either.

The werewolf called Barak snorted and turned, dragging the woman behind.

"Barak, this is my last warning. Let her go," the other werewolf growled.

"Bergman, I want you to remember. I am in charge now," Barak said coldly.

"You were in charge. Not anymore," Anfey said slowly. He walked over and said, "I am in charge now. Let her go."

The woman noticed Anfey, and her eyes were filled with joy. However, her hands were still bound and her mouth was gagged. The only thing she could do was struggle and try to catch his attention.

"Who in hell are you?" Barak turned and looked at Anfey. His eyes narrowed dangerously. He was going to wait a bit then decide what he would do. However, he could not tolerate anyone who challenge him openly.

"Get away, human. This is none of your business," Bergman growled as well. Even though Anfey had asked Barak to let the woman go, it was clear that Bergman did not want to befriend a human.

Anfey hesitated, then said quietly, "I rented this town for several hundred gold coins, but I didn’t know I would have to take care of beasts who don’t even know how to speak properly." He had made several plans beforehand, but plans must vary according to the situation. Seeing that the werewolves were clearly respected here, he wanted to try and befriend one side. He didn’t know both sides would express enmity toward him. He had to take a stand, else his time in Moramatch would be very difficult.

"What did you just say?" Barak barked angrily. He pointed at Anfey and looked like he was ready to fight him at any time. However, he was worried about Christian, who was standing by a carriage, not Anfey.

"I don't like people pointing at me," Anfey said.

"So what if I do?" Barak asked, provoking him.

Anfey shook his head. His eyes moved away from the werewolf and glanced upwards. This was an elementary trick, and Anfey didn’t care if Barak fell for it. Though it seemed like the werewolf wasn’t too bright. His gaze followed Anfey’s.

Just as Barak looked up, Anfey grabbed the werewolf’s hand. Barak knew he had fell for a trap when pain shot up from his hand. When he was about to fight back, Anfey’s fist struck his nose. Barak yelped in pain and stumbled back.

"Dirty beasts," Anfey spat. He felt something wet on his hands. He found a handkerchief and cleaned his hand, then he dropped the handkerchief on the ground.

Barak jumped up, his eyes were blood red and his furs were standing on its ends. He was getting taller and stronger. A werewolf’s nose is more fragile than a human’s. Barak’s nose did not break after taking a hit like that, and that showed how strong he must have been.