Grateful Townsfolk

Without another word, Kaelor took the coat Mildred had made while waiting for his arrival and began walking down the street, Hound silently trailing behind like a shadow.

As they passed, people ducked into their homes. Mothers clutched children. Doors were shut quickly. Windows shuttered. All eyes were on Hound, fearful, judging.

Hound scoffed. "They cower, but let's see them stare when the wolves return."

Kaelor didn't reply.

"What did you use to hunt before?" he asked instead.

"Saber. Dagger. Bow."

"Which one were you best with?"

"Saber."

Kaelor smirked faintly. "Then you're a Saber Expert now. Not much different from a sword expert."

"I can protect you but not the entire town," Hound said, eyes narrowing. "Their numbers matter. I won't last forever."

They kept walking, until Kaelor suddenly froze.

Ahead, huddled near the town wall, were men and children, more gaunt and hollow-eyed than the rest. Some of the men were maimed: a missing leg, an arm, eyes gouged or faces scarred. The children looked skeletal, skin clinging to bone.

"What happened to them?" Kaelor asked, his voice tightening.

"Those are the forgotten," Hound said grimly. "Lost family, lost limbs. Became burdens and were left to rot."

Kaelor stared, fists clenched.

Then suddenly, he turned and sprinted away.

One of the one-armed men let out a dry, bitter laugh.

"Hah. Guess we scared him off with our stench."

Another stared blankly at the rising sun. "That's our lord? Then we're already dead."

Moments later, Kaelor came running back. But this time, he wasn't alone. In his arms was a basket overflowing with bread.

Behind him, Hound appeared, carrying a barrel sloshing with crystal-clear water.

The moment the villagers saw the bread, eyes widened. Some stood despite missing limbs. Others cried out weakly, hands trembling. The children reached out with tearful, hungry eyes.

Kaelor said nothing. He simply knelt, broke the bread, and began handing it out.

One by one. No speeches. No demands.

Just food.

Hound placed the barrel down and began pouring water into wooden cups. The people stared at it as if it were liquid gold.

"…It's clean," someone whispered. "Cleaner than the well…"

The crowd swelled.

[100 FP gained for increasing loyalty and gaining a positive impression from over 10 of your subjects!]

By the time Mildred arrived, she found people crouched along the roadside, happily munching on bread. Faces that once held despair now showed joy, their hands clutching food that was supposed to last them days.

At the center of it all stood Kaelor, holding an empty basket.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a man with a missing right forearm beat her to it. He slowly rose to his feet, his voice firm.

"I will fight the wolves at your command, my Lord. I used to be a hunter."

Another voice followed almost immediately.

"I saw him carry a full barrel of water like it was nothing. Can you make me like that?" said a younger man, likely in his late twenties.

"Me too," someone else muttered, then raised his voice.

"I'll join." It came from a man who stood with the help of a stick, his leg missing from the knee down.

Jon, the first to speak, studied Kaelor with cautious respect. He had heard the rumors. He saw Hound, moments from death, dragged to the lord's residence like a sacrifice. But the man before him now, towering, powerful, reborn, radiated strength. It was impossible to ignore. And they said Kaelor had done it.

Jon didn't know who Kaelor truly was. But any man who'd rush over with food and water, and ask for nothing in return, had to have a good heart.

Beside him, Mildred leaned in and whispered through clenched teeth.

"My Lord… that was all we had!"

Kaelor didn't break his gaze from the gathering crowd.

"I know," he replied softly. Then louder, "Hound. Can you bring back some Direwolves?"

Hound's grin stretched. "I killed some, along with the Alpha. They should still be where I left them."

Without another word, he turned and launched forward like a living blur, vanishing through the open gates and up the hill. The villagers gasped. That speed wasn't natural. He looked like a phantom bounding toward the forest.

….

About an hour later, Kaelor stood near the town gate when he saw a figure descending the hill.

It was Hound, dragging six Direwolves behind him.

Massive beasts, each tied with thick forest vines. Though none were as large as the Alpha, the weight of a single one would require several men to carry. Yet here was one man, dragging six, each thudding behind him with every step.

Gasps erupted. The crowd that had begun to gather after Kaelor's food distribution now tripled in size. Children clung to mothers. Former doubters leaned in.

Four ex-hunters, men Kaelor had seen earlier, maimed but determined, stepped forward. Each bore signs of a violent past: missing limbs, clawed torsos, haunted eyes.

From the edge of the crowd, the two guards who had once deserted their post returned, stepping forward and joining the four.

Kaelor looked at them all. His voice rang out, clear and steady.

"Doing this means you swear an oath, to fight under my command. To obey my words, and my words alone. You will rise as the soldiers of Redwood Town, bearing the duty and honor to protect it."

Jon, steady-eyed, stepped ahead.

"You can bring a half-dead man back to life. I agree."

One by one, the others followed, their gazes hard with resolve.

Kaelor lifted a hand, and as he whispered the word, he made sure they saw his lips move. That way they would think it was an arcane spell.

"Fuse."

Blue flames erupted from thin air, engulfing the men and the Direwolves. But the fire did not burn, it radiated no heat. It danced around them like living will, flickering and pulsing.

The villagers watched in stunned silence as the twelve flames slowly merged into six blazing vortex. The wind shifted. Sparks danced in the air. The light grew intense, blinding for a moment, and then…

It vanished.

Where six maimed men had stood now stood six warriors, each a little smaller than Hound. Wolf-men.

They had reverse-jointed legs, muscled bodies covered in gray fur, long arms ending in clawed hands, and snouts full of gleaming canines. Their eyes shimmered with awareness, not animal rage.

Not beasts. Not men.

Something entirely new.

[You have successfully created six Dreadclaw warriors. Each bears the explosive speed and predatory senses of a Direwolf. Can easily climb and gain the skills of an Adept with some training.]

Their limbs were restored, scars gone. Kaelor now had six soldiers ready to fight on his name!