Chapter 7: Hybrid Abyssal Beasts?

To thrive, roots must take hold here. Barren land could be cultivated, territories expanded—but none of it mattered if people fled.

Who would invest or produce in a place perpetually abandoned?

After dismissing Bartholomew, Cedric summoned Sir Kael Thornwood, his captain.

"Take your men. Find locals—guards, hunters, farmers—who've lived here five winters and survived the Month of the Abyss. Those who've fought Abyssal Beasts preferred."

As Kael departed, Cedric massaged his temples and resumed reviewing reports.

Borderwatch's main exports were ore and pelts. Grain imports traveled the Crimsontide River to Fort Everstone or Willowbrook. The mines yielded iron, copper, sulfur, quartz, rubies, sapphires… far beyond typical vein deposits. Elara's words echoed: The Northslope Mines were once a monster's lair. Tunnels remain uncharted.

Flipping to grain ledgers, Cedric scowled. Most ore was bartered for food with Fort Everstone—not paid in Gold Dragons. Precious gems treated as common trade goods! Years of this left Borderwatch neither food-secure nor fiscally sound.

In essence, a year's mining fed 2,000 souls. Under previous lords—lackeys of Duke Lysander—this made twisted sense. Stockpiling grain would've only fed Abyssal Beasts.

Pelts provided meager private income. Hunters ventured west into Mistwood Forest, selling game to Fort Everstone merchants or Willowbrook locals. No tariffs existed—too hard to enforce.

Cedric resolved to end grain bartering. The Crimsontide's tributaries spanned the kingdom; he'd procure grain elsewhere.

If I can stop those damned beasts here.

Kael returned swiftly with two guards and a hunter. "These captains lit the warning beacons annually. The hunter claims he's fought hybrids—even beheaded one."

The trio bowed.

Translation:

Cedric nodded, gesturing for them to step aside and approach one by one.

"Y-Your Highness," stammered the first guard, trembling. "B-Brynn and I… we man the signal towers at Northslope Mines when snow falls. W-we spot the beasts first. If they cross Mistwood Forest, we light the beacons… retreat via backroads… board skiffs waiting at the river."

"Since you're partners, let him answer," Cedric sighed, massaging his temples. "What do the beasts look like? Can they be killed?"

The second guard, though nervous, spoke clearly. "Yes, Your Highness. They're forest creatures corrupted by the Abyss—ferocious but mortal. After each Month of the Abyss, Fort Everstone sends riders to purge remnants along the trade roads."

"How long does the Month last?"

"Two to three months… depends on the sun," Brynn said.

"The sun?"

"You're new here, so…" The guard hesitated. "Once snow starts in Borderwatch, it won't stop until sunlight returns."

"The Month ends only when snow melts?" Cedric recalled Eldermarch's fleeting winters—nothing like this.

"Aye. Two years ago, it lasted four months. Many… didn't survive."

"Why? Couldn't Fort Everstone spare more grain?"

Brynn paled. "They had stores. But Magistrate Ferron claimed our autumn ore only bought three months' rations. The fourth required new shipments—impossible mid-siege."

"I see."

Self-destructive fools alienating their people. Had Fort Everstone treated Borderwatch with dignity, keeping its residents loyal would've been harder. But those cowering behind walls proved no better. Cedric kept his face neutral as he summoned the hunter, mentally noting Magistrate Ferron's name.

The third man stood nearly six feet tall, his muscular frame imposing. He knelt upon approaching.

"You've slain Abyssal Beasts?"

"Aye, Your Highness." His voice rasped. "A Boar-kind and Wolf-kind."

"Kind?"

"Hunter terms, Your Highness. The fiercer the beast before corruption, the deadlier after. Their strengths magnify: Boar-kind hides repel crossbows at fifty paces. Wolf-kind outruns horses—traps are needed."

"Stronger. Faster. Still animals."

"True. But the true terrors"—the hunter swallowed—"are Hybrids."

"Hellspawn only the Abyss could birth. I once faced one with a predator's limbs and wings enabling short flights. It… knew where I hid. Not hunting—toying." He lifted his shirt, revealing a scar from navel to collarbone. "I leapt into the Crimsontide unconscious. Survived by miracle."

"Such monsters exist?" Cedric's world tilted further into fantasy. Walls stopped ground beasts, but flying hybrids? "Surely Hybrids are rare?"