I wish I could say that, like the other times I’d been this hurt, I’d lost consciousness. Unfortunately, this time, I wasn’t so lucky. I heard the gate open and people come out. They didn’t rush, but instead moved slowly and deliberately towards me and the beast I’d killed. Once they were sure the area was secure, they came over to me, lifted me onto a stretcher, and carried me back through the gate and into their castle. Several of them remained behind with the creature, and I could hear faint snippets of conversation about bringing the body inside.

I could also hear questions directed at me, but I wasn’t lucid enough to answer them. The pain mixed with the fading adrenaline made it too difficult to focus on words, though I was able to take some measure of my surroundings. The inside of the castle was in many ways as surprising as the outside, though not nearly as out of place. The furnishings and decorations were an odd mix of the usual waster junk and pieces I’d be certain were out of a museum if they didn’t look relatively new. I was taken to a simple cot, military issue based on how it felt against my back, and I felt flashes of intense pain as my clothes were removed and wounds examined.

I heard flashes of conversation.

“Looks like he’s been burnt across his whole body”

“Deadmen are like that. Ain't you ever seen one before?”

“His teeth. They're almost as large as an ursans.”

I felt something stick into my arm and there was the slightest amount of relief, but not enough to clear the fog of pain from my mind. I managed to mutter “more” and there was another poke and after just a few moments the pain dulled and I was able to bring things more into focus.

There were several people standing around me. Two or three I recognized as members of the Horde, their tattoos and piercings marking them out right away. One was the blonde woman I’d spoken to, and the final one was a man wearing what looked like a bird mask over his mouth, holding an empty syringe. I watched the man put that syringe down, and reach for a needle and thread. He threaded the needle carefully and moved his hands toward the deep wounds on my chest. I reached out and grabbed his arm, causing him and the entire room to jump.

“Don’t bother,” I said, feeling the man’s pulse quicken through his wrist.

“But sir, you’re grievously wounded. As the court physician I have a responsibility to provide the utmost care possible.”

I laughed. “I’ll be fine. You’ve done enough. Sewing me up is a waste of thread.”

The man raised his eyebrow. “I, uh, should get the king. I’m certain he’ll want to speak with you right away.”

“Take your time,” I muttered as I pulled myself up a bit to look at the people around me. I pointed to the ones I recognized as Horde. “You. Closer.”

They looked at one another, and two of them gave the third a gentle shove toward me. The one they pushed was a woman, with mostly engineer piercings and only a few warrior tattoos. A newer initiate then. “Ye-yes?”

“How many of your patrol is left?”

“Uh, twelve, I think?”

“The Khan’s daughter still alive?”

She nodded. “Atlan? Yeah, she was hurt though. Lost her leg.”

I sighed. Of course something like that had happened. “That's why you haven’t left the woods?”

The girl nodded meekly.

The blonde woman I’d spoken with at the gate stepped closer as well. “That and the Ursans have been more of a problem lately. They’ve been much bolder than before. I don’t know that their patrol would be able to make it out even if they were all in perfect health.”

I looked up at her, her brown eyes twitched when they met my red ones, but she held her eye contact. Impressive for a woman that hadn’t seen a deadman before. “Name?” I asked.

“Shayera Sharpeye.”

I blinked at her a few times, and shared a look with the Iron Horde patrolmen who gave a shrug. “Shayera, don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell is going on?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Giant monster bears, a castle, people with swords and bows instead of guns and cars. Everything I see gets weirder as time goes on.”

The woman’s expression changed from a mix of concerned and scared to defensive and haughty. “I could ask you the same thing. We haven’t encountered outsiders alive ever before now. Suddenly people with guns and vehicles appear, rile up every Ursan in the forest, and then demand explanations from us!”

That gave me some of the answers I wanted. Just because these people lived in the woods, didn’t mean they were completely unaware of the world as it was outside of them. They at least knew what guns and cars were, enough at least, to not call them boom-sticks and vroom machines. I’d met some isolated groups where that hadn’t been the case.

“That’s enough Shay.” A new voice broke through and I turned my attention to the door. The doctor stood there, along with a man I didn’t recognize. He wore the same odd clothes as the rest of the castle’s residents, though his seemed to be of nicer quality. There was a cape of fur draped over him, that I could tell was made of an Ursan’s hide, and an honest to goodness crown sat on his head. He was young, maybe early thirties, and handsome. He had long brown hair kept in place by his crown and green eyes that regarded me without flinching. “The man is hurt. I think it’s fair we provide him with a few answers. Not often a stranger comes along and slays an Ursan almost single handedly for us.”

Shayera’s expression shifted and she gave a slight bow to the man. “My lord.”

“Shay, there’s no reason for that here. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” The man grabbed a chair and dragged it across to the bed, sitting next to me. He smiled at me, which filled me with unease. “So, questions. We’ll start with yours then move on to mine.”

“Who are you people?” I asked, starting with the biggest question.

“We are the Ren Faree.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“Well, because I’m the king.”

“No, I mean.” I rubbed my hand across my face. “Your people. The Ren Faree. How have you survived here?”

“Ah, you want the story.” The king looked up at the doctor with a smirk. “Jude will be upset he doesn’t get to tell it himself.”

The doctor’s eyes smiled, his face was still covered by the strange mask.

The king leaned in. “Our ancestors were unique among the people of their time. They eschewed the world as it was in favor of a belief that the world could be a better, more magical place. They trained in the simpler things. Swordsmanship, archery, smithing, sewing, and of course the telling of stories and singing of songs.”

“...uh huh.”

“They would meet at a park here, once or twice a year, to discuss those trades and engage with one another. When the cataclysm occurred, they were all here, in these woods. They took shelter in an old cave, hidden from the horrors above. They began working on building a new society in the image they’d always hoped for. They named it after the event in which they’d gathered, and called themselves the Ren Faree.”

“...okay,” I managed in a neutral voice. Lunatics. I was dealing with the lunatic descendants of fringe folk. I’d encountered a few settlements like this before. The Republic of Gary, a group where everyone was named Gary and did their best to look and act the same as their founder, guess his name. Pott’s Field was of course like this in some ways, but those choices were intentional, wrapping ourselves in mystique as a form of soft power. This was very different from that, interesting in its own way, and I was glad to sate my curiosity, but my energy was wearing thin. Whatever process my body used to regenerate seemed to drain me immensely and I could feel my eyelids begin to droop. “Thank you for answering my questions. I’d answer yours, but I think I’m about to pass out. Being covered in wounds tends to do that.”

He nodded. “We can speak more on the morrow. I will have a feast of the monster you killed. I insist that you have the first bite.”

I managed a smile showing all my teeth, causing him to pale slightly, the first reaction I’d managed to get out of him. “I’d like that, very much.”