The elf spoke first, much to the annoyance of the two dwarves.

  “Forgive me, lady. I don’t know your name, so I’m not able to thank you properly.”

  She was speaking the same language as Seta and the other humens. I’d assumed it was some kind of common-tongue but this more or less settled it. Armela had been speaking it, and a few of the Lizardkin had used broken sections of it when they were speaking with other captives.

  I had no doubt that both the Dwarven race, along with the Elves, had their own languages, but perhaps the Wolfkin only spoke the common-tongue language? I still hadn’t heard anyone talk about it, so I didn’t know what the language was called; I’d likely need to ask Seta at some point if it ever became important enough to know.

  “My name is Armela, daughter of the endless fields, servant of Mechanriel, and mate of Vita the Reforged. Well met, Nobel elf.”

  She bowed slightly before turning to the dwarves. She nodded and greeted them cordially as well.

  “Ladies of Rock and Stone.”

  The elf cocked an eyebrow at the title—regarded the state of Armela’s dress—then looked over at me, kneeling in the filth.

  “That’s... Your mate?”

  Armela immediately flushed deeply, only realizing how things looked from an outside perspective for the first time.

  Thoroughly flustered, she prodded at my shoulder and hissed at me to get up.

  “A-apologies for this unsightliness, all; we were in… the middle of something when the carts came through the camp edge. This isn’t usually how things… are.”

  I warred with myself over exacerbating Armela’s situation but ultimately landed on an old adage: “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  I stood as she had directed.

  “Mistress, I could never so much as dare to think of a day where I would be worthy of being called your mate; my place is in the mud at your feet, worshipping the ground across which you stride.”

  I ramped up the theatrics of my portrayal of a pathetic man-slave for the crowd. Some of whom began to titter and sneer at me.

  “VITA I SWEAR ON OUR GOD IF YOU DON’T STOP THIS INSTANT I WILL BURY YOUR HEAD SO FAR UP YOUR OWN ASS YOU WILL SMELL YOUR FUCKING THOUGHTS”

  I knew when to hold ‘em, and when to fold ‘em.

  This was a fold ‘em scenario.

  Undoing the blindfold, I quickly absorbed the collar Armela had placed on me, along with the ‘eyes’ I’d formed on my ribs before observing the overall gathering through my regular eyes. This group was entirely humen aside from the two dwarves, the Elf, and Nia’cyl. They ranged from very young to middle-aged.

  The youngest being the little girl that Armela had been helping earlier, I estimated her to be somewhere around 8 years old. Looking back at the unconscious leader, I prayed to Mechanriel that she had been spared from their torment.

  Directing my gaze to the elf, I introduced myself.

  “I am Vita. As Armela has mentioned, I am a servant of the God Mechanriel and his chosen Reforged. Armela is my mate, as sanctioned by her rite.”

  I displayed the circular crest on the back of my hand.

  “It is an honour and a privilege to meet you all, though my heart breaks over the circumstances. I wish there were more I could grant you beyond a simple promise to ensure that the powers who orchestrated your abduction face the retribution they are due.”

  I gave the brigand leader a more pointed look for their benefit.

  “Please take some time to gather yourselves, treat your weary bodies, and help yourselves to any of the supplies we have available over there.”

  I gestured toward the small stockpile of food along the perimeter of the camp before turning back to the Elf.

  “Well met, Lady Elf. I apologise for the strangeness of our display, but allow me the opportunity to greet you properly once again.”

  I bowed slightly as I spoke, which seemed to ease some of her disgust and caused her to re-evaluate my esteem. Though it was clear, she still wasn’t sure if she should treat me like dirt or like Armela’s equal. She had been the one to let them out of their cages and the one who had dealt with the brigands, after all.

  “Yes… well… strangeness aside, I do wish to thank you both for what you’ve done for us here. It was no small feat to overcome those wretched brutes. Word will spread quickly of your deeds here, and the… manner in which you did them…”

  Her hesitancy was obvious, but she was genuinely grateful. Considering the first impression I’d given them, this was probably the best I could ask for. People were much more likely to remember this and the incredibly odd interaction between myself and Armela.

  Beyond her spider-like limbs and devastation of the slave guards, being mates with some weird blindfolded guy who may or may not be her man-servant would catch a lot of interest.

  Perfect.

  “My name is Belmira Brightwing, daughter to Estren and Jullor Brightwing, of House Etloren. On behalf of myself and the people of Critlos, I thank you both, Armela and Vita, for the acts of bravery and kindness you have shown us today.”

  She bowed deeply, much deeper than either Armela or I had, and suddenly I felt like an ignorant simpleton.

  “I swear to you that this debt of gratitude will be repaid to you in time. I was sent north to the city of Eprie as an envoy for the council of Critlos to discuss economic opportunities between our cities when I was abducted from the inn I had been staying at.”

  The two dwarven women were growing impatient with the elf, glancing up at her in turns and trying to anticipate her next break in conversation so they could interject. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Elf who, with surprising casualness, continued to ignore their less than polite attempts to break up the talk.

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  “I’m convinced that I was set up, either by a member of the council, or someone who has been feeding information to the slaving ring in Eprie.”

  She brought a slender hand to her chin in contemplation, seeming to run through mental notes she’d been compiling over the few days she’d been in the wagon.

  “I had concealed my presence in the city specifically to avoid a situation like this, and yet they still located me. They had to have been specifically looking for me…”

  Finally, one of the Dwarven women rolled her eyes and chuffed out a scoff.

  “Surely ye dinnae think it was a conspiracy?! Typical o’ ye elves, thinkin’ everybody’s oot tae git ye! Must be them pointy ears, aye? O’ COURSE THEY SEEN YE COME THRU TOWN, YA DAFT FLAP-EAR, YE’RE TALLER THAN A DAMN WATCHTOWER ARENAE YE?!”

  I wasn’t really surprised. The distaste between dwarves and elves had been a long-standing theme where I’d been from, and so far things were tracking rather smoothly here with that experience. Belimra, for her part, chose not to respond to this. Instead, she curled her hands into fists and shut her eyes.

  I could see the veins on her forehead pulsing as she fought to wrangle her frustration over the interruption. After a brief pause, she started again through clenched teeth.

  “As I said, Critlos thanks you, wanderers.”

  The dwarf who’d spoken jumped on the end of the sentence eagerly.

  “Aye, if ye hadnae been here, me and Torter wouldnae known what tae do. Them iron bars were right buggers tae bend only usin’ our stone-blessed arms! We were startin’ tae worry we’d have tae chew our way out! Ha-ha-ha!”

  She laughed, and it sounded like a rock tumbler. Deep, rumbling, earthy gusts of laughter crashed out of her as she tilted her short frame back to project them up and out over the walls of the camp. From her mannerisms and joviality, you’d never guess she’d been held captive in a steel cage, let alone assaulted when she was initially captured.

  I was beginning to suspect that the general ambivalence to violence, or apathy to death, were more or less common things to experience on this world. Armela had been exceptionally quick to adapt to our current situation, and for that matter, only a small portion of the gathered people here had any kind of powerful reaction to what had been done to the remaining brigands.

  And even those who had reacted strongly now seemed to be getting on with things. Perhaps it was the case that in a world full of sigils and magic stones tucked away in people’s guts, things like this happened with such frequency that even the more outlandish or over the top occurrences faded into mediocrity.

  “Yeah! Me and Jorter were plannin’ tae jump ‘em when they let us oot. No way a bunch o’ tallfolk like these woulda stopped us! Except maybe big ol’ leader there, aye… he seemed like a bit of a scrappy big’un.”

  Torter chimed in, essentially echoing her… sister? Friend? Jorter and Torter had to be closely related… right?

  “Anyway, we’re grateful to ye, but we arenae suckin’ yer toes like lil’ Miss Longbottom here. Right, Jorter?”

  The Elf flinched and slowly started cranking her head around to gaze down at the small woman.

  “Right, Torter! We arenae quite low enough tae the ground tae be lickin’ boots just yet! Ye get our thanks, but dinnae be thinkin’ we owe ye a great debt or naethin’!”

  Well, these two seemed… pleasant. Their accent was thick. So thick there were points I actually had to dedicate a significant fraction of a percent of my pattern recognition to decoding it. It was still the common language, but just barely.

  Some of the other folk were grumbling about how arrogant the two were being, and Belimra looked as though she were on the verge of hurling either of the two as far as her slim arms could carry them.

  I doubted she’d actually be able to so much as lift one of them off the ground, but who knew what her rage would be capable of allowing her to do, or if she had access to sigils that would allow her to do it. Before things erupted into a spiralling mess of arguing and in-fighting I interjected.

  “Your thanks are more than enough for the two of us, Belimra, Jorter, Torter.”

  I turned to each of them to convey my sincerity.

  “I happened upon this camp some days ago, and with the help of my mate, determined that another group would make their way here. We had already decided to help regardless of who came, so rewards, or anything further than your gratitude, would be unnecessary.”

  I smiled broadly, presenting as friendly a face as I could.

  “It is prize enough to know you are free now. I extend this sentiment to all gathered here. We are simply acting under my God’s will, and would offer this aid to anyone in need, regardless of their station or heritage.”

  A voice piped up from a particularly dour-looking man in the crowd.

  “Is that why you helped that little demon witch escape?!”

  A smattering of the other people also chimed in, wanting to know if that had been the case. It hadn’t slipped past their notice that she was no longer beneath the wagon. It looked like their best guess at what had happened to Nia’cyl was that I’d helped her flee.

  They weren’t wrong, but this situation posed a threat to the peace of the group now.

  I had two options: either I played dumb and left them with their suspicion of me, or I owned it and confirmed those suspicions. I had no shame in associating with Nia’cyl, nor did these ignorant peasants understand what they were decrying. There was nothing to hide.

  “She was not, is not, and will never be a threat to you, or anyone you know.”

  I spoke loudly, confidently, and without even a hint of shame or defensiveness.

  “I don’t know what grudge you hold against her, or her kind, but she is not someone you should provoke or anger.”

  I swept my gaze over the crowd, slowly passing over each set of eyes staring back at me. Deliberately drawing out their attention.

  “I have helped her get to where she needs to be, and if my doing so has angered you, or caused you to resent me, then I implore you to reconsider those feelings. Any ill will you hold towards her will be held towards me. And I do not wish for there to be bad blood between us.”

  I could see the bulk of the crowd back down. Shoulders slumped with relaxation, and looks of anger and concern smoothed into placid looks of relief. It seemed they didn’t care, so long as Nia’cyl was gone.

  The perturbed man persisted.

  “So you’re in league with the demon spawn. I shoulda known there was somethin’ foul about you and that wolf filth. Take your mutt and crawl back into whatever debauched hole produced you!”

  With that, he spat at us. Knowing Armela’s temperament, I slowed down my perception of time and waited for her.

  Sure enough, I saw her legs bend in preparation to leap at the man. Reaching out, I wrapped some of my whips around her to prevent her from going anywhere. Speeding time back up, I looked at her and shook my head.

  Everyone seemed slightly confused by what had just happened as it had taken place in the length of a heartbeat. Looking back towards the man, I calmly spoke.

  “I would advise you to watch your words around those you do not know the temperament of. I do not fault you for your beliefs; however, you have shown my mate and, by extension, me, a significant amount of disrespect for someone trapped in a cage not moments ago.”

  He scowled at my words, glancing around at the slowly receding crowd of bystanders. It seemed his opinion was more unpopular than he’d imagined.

  “Now, to prevent you from dying a very slow, very painful death, I would strongly urge you to reconsider your words. You do not need to thank me for what I’ve done here, and you do not need to like me for my conduct with the Fae, but you will not insult my mate again, or you will find yourself experiencing a level of torment no mortal soul could fathom. Are we clear?”

  He was shaken, but for some incredible reason, stuck to his convictions.

  “Are you all gonna let him get away with this?! H-he aided that… CREATURE! Barlow, surely you must be as angry as I am?! You know what those devils are capable of! He’s probably made a deal with it! He’s probably sold his soul to it!!”

  The man spun to who I assumed was Barlow, looking for validation and support. Instead, he found a wildly bewildered man vigorously shaking his head and backing away.

  He swiveled in place, imploring the rest of the group with an almost manic sputtering of words.

  “He’s clearly an agent of evil! How can any of you side with him after what he did? Doesn’t the Church of Rel teach us to scorn the Fae!? I don’t care if he saved us! One right doesn’t cancel such a wrong! A-and he’s mates with that hound! It’s disgusting!”

  The members of his rapidly dwindling posse kept their mouths shut and just continued focusing on anything other than him. Which seemed to anger him even more.

  “Mark my words, you devil, I won’t be forgetting what you did to aid that little demon cunt! I’ll find some way to make you pay for that. The church will deal with you and that furry bit—”

  He dropped through my rift in the ground and popped out in my cave. Manipulating his relative gravity, I made his arms and legs too heavy to lift or move, then closed the rift as he started screaming.

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, my other hand on my hip as I attempted to work through the stupidity I’d just witnessed.

  I spoke to the crowd of startled people, all of whom were now staring at the spot where the man had disappeared.

  “I warned him not to insult my mate further. Believe me, I understand the feelings you all might hold for me, but I want you to know that I do not resent you for them. I respect that you’ve kept them to yourselves, and promise to treat you fairly so long as that is the treatment you give to me and mine.”

  I looked to Armela, who looked equal parts pissed and… turned on?

  Uh oh.

  I turned back to the crowd.

  “Words have power, and wielding them as you please may have consequences you are not prepared for. Do not forget this.”

  They nodded, fear passing over them as my last statement came across as more of a threat than a word of advice.

  Whatever.

  I brought Armela in close to me, instructing her to head into the cave to… discuss things with the man. The feral, toothy grin she gave me as she nodded was likely the most unsettling thing I’d seen since coming to this world.

  Before letting her go, I tipped her slightly and kissed her deeply. She threw herself into the kiss, venting her lust and affection into in. After a moment, I broke away.

  “Thank you for standing up for me. I’m blessed to call you my mate; never forget that.”

  She beamed at me and sauntered off towards the cave with an ‘I know’ and a very confident sway to her hips.

  The others around the camp seemed uncomfortable, but Torter slapped my ass with a wink.

  “Good on ye, lad! Too few men in the world willin’ tae make their women feel wanted. Rocks below, I swear some days me own man feels more like part o’ the walls than he does a Dwarf!”

  She shook her head as she looked up at me, eyeing me appraisingly.

  “Shame there isna a beard on ye though, cannae see ye as anythin’ but a wee babe without it!”

  I chuckled lightheartedly along with her and Jorter.

  I was warming up to these women and their openness. It was becoming clear to me they lacked the same social filter that Belimra or the others had. That kind of unabashed honesty was scarce.

  Belimra simply folded her long arms across her chest and decided not to comment.

  It was time to get this group organized and moving. I turned to address everyone once again.