Chapter 35: Lady Puppet

"A figure capable of defeating a Grade Four Mage, and you offered him only that? Do you share some close bond?" Dolph's tone carried a distinct note of incredulity.

"Close? Hardly. He killed one of my dogs." Mentioning this elicited a subtle grinding of teeth from the old man.

Dolph's expression grew even more peculiar. "So... you deceived him? Aren't you afraid he'll seek retribution upon discovering this?"

"Er..." The old man's expression stiffened slightly. He cleared his throat. "I didn't know his true worth at the outset. Can't really blame me for that."

Dolph was silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Very well. So... is he also a mage? Or perhaps a Grade Four Knight?"

The old man met her gaze levelly. "He's a werewolf."

"A werewolf?" Dolph's brow furrowed instantly. As a practitioner of orthodox magic, she felt an instinctive revulsion towards such abominations.

Knowing her concern, the old man elaborated, "Though he carries the curse, he is unlike any other werewolf. He is... unique. When transformed, he retains absolute lucidity. And he can speak."

"That's impossible!" Dolph retorted reflexively.

"But it is fact. Witnessed by these eyes," the old man stated with ironclad conviction. "I do not lie to you, Mage Dolph. You know this."

"Perhaps... a new strain of the affliction..." Dolph murmured, forcing herself to calm down.

"Can't say. What I do know is he hasn't been a werewolf long. Before that... he was a timid, cowardly wretch. Since the lycanthropic venom took hold, he's become an entirely different person. Confident. Carefree. Traits utterly absent before."

"Your description piques my interest considerably," Dolph admitted, a spark of intense curiosity lighting her eyes.

"I'd advise against making a move on him. You wouldn't prevail," the old man cautioned bluntly.

"Who said anything about force?" Dolph countered, her stern demeanor melting away. A subtle, practiced allure entered her posture, accentuated by her mature, exquisitely preserved beauty. "Soft approaches exist."

The old man's eyelid twitched. "He's still just a boy."

The rhythmic sound of chopping wood echoed through the quiet forest.

With a final crackling snap, another tree succumbed to Glen's axe.

Driven by the need to amass wealth quickly, he had decided to diversify his ventures.

While raising pigs promised decent returns, accumulating the substantial sum Glen envisioned required time.

Moreover, the population of black boars wasn't large. Slaughtering one every other month wouldn't sustain him long-term, even if he ventured deeper into the woods periodically to capture more – hardly a sustainable path.

His solution: let the remaining pigs breed freely. Once their numbers grew sufficiently, then he could harvest and sell in earnest.

In the meantime, he needed another source of income.

His chosen path: woodworking.

In his past life, a neighbor had been a skilled carpenter. Growing up close with that neighbor's son, Glen had spent countless hours in their workshop, absorbing techniques almost by osmosis.

He even had some hands-on experience.

Consequently, Glen felt reasonably confident in his woodworking abilities.

After processing the felled trees into rough timber, Glen set about crafting simple furniture.

Cutting, drilling, sanding – for Glen in his current state, powered by the strength and precision of his werewolf form, these tasks were astonishingly simple. He barely needed conventional tools; his claws and hair, hard as steel needles, handled most of the work.

Soon, a sturdy, well-crafted chair stood complete.

Comparing it to memories of his neighbor's work, Glen found it nearly identical.

Satisfied, and with daylight still plentiful, Glen accelerated his pace. The forest air filled with the energetic bang and clatter of woodworking as he produced over a dozen more chairs, a table, and several stools.

The pigpen was now entirely Night Howl's domain. Glen only needed to inspect it occasionally.

He could devote his full attention to his new enterprise.

"Why are you making these things?"

As dusk approached, the puppet, Anna, clad in a pale pink princess dress, sat perched on a rock. Her voice, clear and surprisingly human, broke Glen's concentration. She had been observing him for some time, her eyes brimming with childlike curiosity.

This non-human resident had found the newcomer fascinating. Unlike the pervasive silence of other townsfolk, Glen was vibrantly active – a puzzle that drew her in.

Glen had noted her presence the moment she arrived but had ignored it, focused on his work.

Now that she spoke, he couldn't simply disregard her.

"To sell, obviously," Glen replied without looking up, continuing his work.

Anna seemed to contemplate this, nodding slowly. After a pause, her gaze lingered on the finished pieces. "Are they... furniture? They're so lovely..." A faint note of longing colored her voice.

"You like them?" Glen spared her a quick glance.

Lady Puppet nodded with definite enthusiasm.

Glen chuckled. "Want one?"

She nodded again, even more eagerly.

"Forty copper coins apiece," Glen declared, holding up four fingers.

Anna froze. Her delicate wooden fingers brushed the pristine fabric of her dress. She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I... I have no copper coins..."

Glen wasn't particularly surprised. Seeing her despondent posture, he softened his tone slightly. "Well, seeing as you appreciate my work so much, beautiful lady... I'll give you one as a gift this time."

Offer a gift first, maybe get some information later. Might work... he thought to himself.

His words rang like celestial music to Anna. Her head snapped up, eyes wide with astonished joy. "Truly?! That's wonderful!"

In an instant, she was across the distance, her movements as light as a martial arts master's, landing beside Glen's collection of finished pieces. Glen couldn't help but mentally marvel. Magic constructs... no stiffness at all.

After a moment of intense deliberation, Anna selected a folding table – arguably the most intricate piece he'd made.

"May I... have this one?" she asked, holding the small table aloft, her expression hopeful.

"Sure," Glen nodded.

Anna's joy was palpable. She clutched the folding table to her chest and spun in a delighted circle. Is it really that exciting? Glen wondered, though he dismissed the thought.

"I recall you have a companion. Where is he?" Glen asked casually, scanning the surrounding trees.

The excited puppet stopped spinning. Her finely crafted wooden face formed a startlingly human expression of mischief. "I snuck out! I heard the noises and came to see. Brother is still sleeping."

So lifelike! If it weren't for those obvious joint hinges... But her 'brother'... now that design was rather half-hearted. Glen was inwardly startled by the vividness of her expression, though outwardly he only blinked once.

He chose his next words carefully. "You and your brother... you were both created by magic, yes? Who crafted you?"

His genuine curiosity outweighed the risk of causing offense.

Anna hesitated visibly. She lowered her head again, her wooden lips pressing together. After several seconds, she murmured, "Brother says... we mustn't speak about Master to others..."

"No matter," Glen waved a dismissive hand, feigning nonchalance. "Just idle curiosity. Forget I asked."

To break the awkwardness, he shifted topics. "Anyway, my name is Glen Nibancruk. Pleasure to meet you. Guess that makes us friends now."

The puppet stared at him, seemingly stunned. Then, a wave of unexpected excitement washed over her. She fumbled slightly before performing an unexpectedly graceful curtsy. "Master Glen! Hello! I am Anna Tismorn. The pleasure is also mine!"