“Elly, I'm really happy you’re willing to help me,” Rudan said over his shoulder.

“Don't mention it,” the Mage smiled.

“But,” he repositioned the bag he was carrying over his shoulder, “you can still go back, you know? You have your sister to look after, and you were almost ready to advance to a two-star Mage,” he frowned.

Elianora placed her hand on Rudan’s shoulder, and he stopped briefly. “Olive would come too, if she were big enough. Family is important.”

Rudan blushed and faced forward, continuing his previous pace.

They walked quietly for a minute, then Elianora called out, “You've never said anything about them. You're at odds, right?”

Rudan flinched, then sighed. “I guess it isn't fair to bring you along without explaining anything.”

Elianora trotted up to walk beside him, and indicated she was paying attention with her wide eyes.

Rudan glanced down at her, then examined the treetops closely. “My family is full of nothing but women. I'm the first boy born in three generations. My father died in an accident before my mother even knew she had me. Our house is kind of isolated, and all the serv--the neighbors are women too. Mother picked an environment that would protect herself and my sisters. For years, I never even saw another boy.”

“But, we were close. My sisters are all pretty. I wasn't as elegant, but I wanted to be just like them. I used to wear my hair long,” Rudan felt his short blonde hair. “I even wore a dress in public more than once. I was proud of it.” He laughed derisively.

“I was able to go to school when I turned twelve.” He held his head in his hand, dark shadows crossing his face. “That was the most mortifying day of my life. The fallout even reached my family.”

Elianora looked sympathetically at Rudan, a new understanding behind her gaze. “So, is there some man threatening your mother and sisters now?”

“Huh?” Rudan looked at Elianora like she’d grown a second head. “N-no. Not possible.”

She cocked her head. “But, you’re trying to get stronger, right? Isn't it to protect them?”

Rudan realized why she was confused. He thought about his wording carefully. “They were able to survive three generations without any men because the women in my family are as strong as any man. I'm actually still the weakest of my siblings.”

“Oh! Then,” Elly pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, “what’s wrong?”

Rudan grimaced. “Honestly, I ran away from home five years ago. The way others looked at them with me in the picture was different. I hated it.” Rudan lowered his head. “It was selfish, but I didn't go reconsider. They always kept inviting me back and putting up with my stubbornness. But when I visited this time, they gave me an ultimatum. Either I prove I can handle myself by beating my youngest sister in a fight, or I have to accept their help. If I refuse even after losing, mother said,” tears welled up in Rudan’s eyes, “she said not to come back.”

Elly looked shocked at seeing Rudan look so fragile. He always tried to model himself after a brave and proud warrior, even when he looked like he was forcing it.

“How come you can't accept their help?” Elly asked. “They want to help because they love you, right?”

He shook his head vehemently. “No! They’ll send me back to that school! Bastards like those don't forget things like this even after five years. I'll just start dragging my mother and sisters down again. I have to win the fight so I don't have to make that decision.”

“I see,” the Mage nodded. “I'll support you completely. But it would be good if you spent more time with them after winning the fight--at least in private--right?”

He looked somber, “Yeah.”

But there’s no way to meet them privately with so many guards and nobles watching.

***

Elsewhere in the woods, two pairs of feet stomped the scattered leaves underfoot.

“Why didn't you tell her?” Irsha asked.

She and Varoon had been walking in silence since leaving Vyra’s Village. It was obvious that her mate was brooding, so she wanted to give him space, but she couldn't hold back her curiosity.

“I don't know what it is, but it's important, right?”

Varoon scoffed. “Right. Why don't I tell her? Make her feel even more special than she already does.”

Irsha frowned uncomfortably. “She was pretty harsh at the beginning, but she warmed up to you in just a few days, you know? She seemed to want to be close to you.”

“She can be close to Oolga,” he snorted. Irsha widened her eyes when he used his mother's name to refer to her by.

“How bad was it?” morbid curiosity compelled her to ask.

“She told me herself that I shouldn't have been born and she never expected anything out of me.”

Varoon stopped walking and clenched his fists. His body trembled from all the rage and loathing he felt. Irsha put on a serious expression and took a defensive posture.

“Let it out,” she told him. “You should hit something when you're angry.”

Varoon didn't need any more encouragement. He spun around and brought up his fist. With immense force, he punched out. Irsha caught his fist in her hand, using her entire body to stop its force. Not to say it was easy to do.

Varoon took back his fist and looked at it for a minute, then shook it out.

“Thanks, Irsha,” he said quietly. “Sorry.”

She let out a breath and straightened up, smiling. “Don't worry about it. More importantly, I'll make sure the boys give you a good spot this time. A punch like that could give a Fomor trouble.”

Varoon smiled slightly, and they continued on their way.

A day later, they passed a certain mossy stone and called out a signal to their allies. They waited a moment, but there was no response. Both of them made serious faces and drew their weapons: Irsha with her hammer and Varoon with his axe. They crept closer to the village to investigate.

At some point, they started to hear sounds of combat in the distance. Then, they heard the return signal being called from the foliage nearby. They came to investigate, and found a War Orc from their village, hiding.

“Good that you back,” he said in hushed tones.

Female War Orcs like Irsha were reasonably sized, but the males were almost a foot taller, with extremely broad shoulders and thick muscles. War Orcs in general were skilled in all manners of war, but clearly specialized for brute combat.

“What happened?” Irsha urged. “Why are you hiding here?”

“I and others cover retreat path,” the War Orc stated. “The Fomors is aggressive this time. They bring lots. We fighting, but chief say we prepare to flee to Hogen’s Village.”

“Would we be more help at the front lines, or here?” Irsha asked.

The War Orc shook his head. “They definitely is needing help. You go.”

Irsha and Varoon nodded. They grasped their weapons and rushed as quietly as they could to the front lines. Of course, the front lines could be difficult to identify in guerilla warfare. They hopped in with the first group they found and tipped the power balance. But really, Fomors are unsettling creatures.

They're rumored to be descended from true demons called Baphomets. Each Fomor stands ten to eleven feet tall. They have a goat’s legs and a man’s torso, all covered in thick gray fur that resisted bladed attacks. Their head was that of a goat, with curled horns and yellow eyes that had square pupils. They used the leg bones of their predecessors as weapons, with rocks, blunt or sharp, tied to the end. Their strength was difficult to deal with, but worse was their ridiculous recovery speed. If you let a Fomor get away without killing it, it would be back to full strength in an hour, minus any missing body parts.

Two War Orcs had been teaming up to deal with this one, since it was a little on the strong side. When Irsha and Varoon arrived and gave it more targets to aim for, they were all able to spend less time dodging and more time hitting. Soon, the monster was on the ground, and one of the War Orcs chopped its head off.

“You back. Good timing.”

“We join others. Fast.”

The two quickly greeted their comrades and said farewell, hustling off into the trees. Irsha and Varoon nodded to each other and did the same.