《The Last Duke's Memoirs》Chapter 27: An Old Lady’s Scoff [1]

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Chapter 27: An Old Lady’s Scoff [1]

The wolves’ stomachs growled louder and louder. The wolves hid their head and dived into the thick grasses, prowling slowly towards the villagers. In silence, they sheath their fangs. Their dark furs hid their movements in the night. The hunt was on.

Step by step, they drew closer to the villagers.

The wolves breathed, and their tails wagged, spewing a blast of hot air from their nostrils. Their feral nature showing within those maddened pupils while their corrosive saliva splashed freely onto the bushes.

***

I, Rowen, had lived my whole 16 years in this old depilated village. Nothing seemed special about my villager, aside from my old grandfather’s bygones and folk stories. According to him, Lother was once a glorious battlefield. But not anymore.

It’s not that I didn’t believe him, but his stories were just like those of the fake bards.

There was nothing eye-catching in this villager, aside from the old stone walls on the outskirts. The group of old men patrolling the village with their old military uniforms, that includes my grandfather, were perhaps the few unique things this villager could offer me.

Bored. In my eyes, the time in the village of Lother had stood still. There was nothing new under the sun.

The old codgers were pushing me to work on the field. They’re trying to make me like them. As a farmer they lived, a farmer they die.

But I refuse to be like them.

I dreamt of becoming a knight or a noble lord. An adventurer. A hero, if I can. I wish I could become a great champion. A lot of beautiful ladies wishing to be my bride. Gold coins falling on my lap. Influence and a noble title in my hand.

Then they would call me Great Rowen.

How sweet could that be?!

Great Rowen, Lord Rowen, and Hero Rowen.

The bards would sing about my name, spreading my mythical story. My tale traveling from generation to generation. I would stamp my name on the history and the villagers would build a statue for me like those in Gisvold.

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Hehe... He… Hehe.

But it seemed like the world is working against me.

I wished this was only a bad dream.

We got a short thirty minutes minute rest from the chief escort. But right now, I could see nothing but sleeping young villagers like me. Some snoring like no tomorrow. I scrunched my eyes in the darkest of the night and my heart trembled.

The other villagers were gone. The carriages were gone. The escorts that would protect us… were nowhere in sight.

Everyone had left us behind. In the middle of tall scrubs and pricking grasses. A goddesses’ knows-where-place.

In the middle of the night, with nowhere to go. I tried waking the others up. But they were too deep in their dreams. Thus, I shouted at the top of my lungs. My voice echoing in the midnight.

It was creepy as hell. I shook them hard. If not enough, I kicked their butts. Of course, I was gentle with the ladies. Some of my friends started waking up one by one. I asked them whether they know where the other villagers were.

Then, the fools asked me the same.

Perfect.

The hell! Although I am the first one to wake up. I also don’t know and don’t you dare give me that no look!

After asking everyone around, it seemed like no one knows.

The icy wind blew and pricked my skin.

My back was drenched with sweat as bitter truth slap me both cheeks. We were on our own. The others were just as lost as me. Many of us froze on the spot, not knowing what to do.

We all waited for the soldiers and the chief to come back. I believe the men of our new noble lord wouldn’t leave us like this. The knight was a kind man. We consoled each other with that.

I then remembered the stories of some local nobles sending their people to their deaths. Did they use to buy time for others? A blood sacrifice? To buy some time for the inevitable?

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The night turned deeper and deeper. But no one came.

Awoohhh!

I remembered the howls before we leave the village. The village chief explained to us it was monsters. It was the reason we were evacuating the village.

“…”

I shuddered. I wanted to run but my legs turned jelly. I looked around and saw the others freezing like me. Others were already running away. Some stumbled in the dark. There was no light, no torches to light up our path.

No village chief or escorts to follow.

Then, I remembered the narration told by the youngest son of the new lord. The suffering of the people who met these monsters. The gears of my brain ran in abandon. Bloodthirsty and unforgiving, monsters that relish in human flesh and innards.

My brain shook. The brief story of the youngest lord had given me trauma. I screeched and ran away from the source of the howl. Despite my shaking feet, I forced myself to move.

Soon, we heard the growls coming from the only forest nearby. A series of blood-red eyes stared from within the bushes. They were emerging from the forest, one by one. We saw them. One, two, five? I don’t dare to count anymore.

I looked at those scary crimson eyes. I saw the brewing craziness in their eyes. It was as if we were some pigs ready for slaughter.

In horror, I ran with everybody. I have nothing to lose except for my petty life.

In the stories of the bards, there was no such thing as this. There were only heroic stories of heroes killing beasts and demons. I wanted to face the monsters, but I have no weapon, nor anything in my hand. My feet refused to budge and turn back. It only knew how to run away.

We saw the tracks of the carriages.

I, Rowen, shouted to everyone.

Everyone followed me.

And the black beasts followed us.

A thousand or more meters. Though it sounded so far. For me, it was just an inch closer to death.

The pace of the beast made my heart tighten.

The black beasts were fast and only getting faster.

As I ran with all my might, I realized something.

I wanted to be a farmer!

The stories of heroes didn't warn me about these dreadful things. The noble lords seemed to relax. Not even the bard's stories of adventurers uttered something like this.

Killing these monsters? Screw that!

It wasn’t for me. I’d rather plow the fields from sunrise to sunset.

It woke me up.

I stretched my neck to look at my back. I was the only man in the back. The black beasts were all running in my direction. I grimaced. I should have exercised this fat body.

I knew that I’m a slow runner.

I cannot speed up anymore. My legs were shaking. I’m exhausted. I cursed myself for why I didn’t increase my stamina. My old grandfather told me that working in the fields could have increased it.

I should have!

Looking ahead of me, I saw everyone running for their lives. My friends. The girl I like and my cousins. My brother. My uncle with a potbelly. Damn, he was fast.

I wanted to laugh at his jiggling belly, but I couldn’t.

Is this my end?

I shifted my head to the side. I am at my wit’s end.

There I caught sight of a mysterious boy. A little boy with striking grayish hair and blue eyes. He was holding a book as he ran behind me. From the looks of it, it was very heavy.

His little limbs were not good enough to catch up with us. Then, the kid stopped running. He faced the death wolves with his eyes wide open. He then sat. Wait, what?

I wanted to turn back and get him.

But… but…

I don’t want to die yet.

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