My Satyr Wife and I Get Blackmailed into Hero Work

Lucius let out a trembling sigh as he finished speaking. Images of vines, lightning, and Dionysus’ furious face still flickered in his mind.

“– and that’s how we escaped through Hermes’ portal,” he concluded in a rough, exhausted voice.

Silence hung in the small room like a dense fog. Marcthain stared at him, one eyebrow raised, arms folded across his chest.

Melissa was sitting sideways on the bed, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. Her ears twitched nervously.

Marcthain leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. Finally, he exhaled a long breath.

“…Well,” he said. “That’s quite the story.”

“I’d love to hear exactly what you did to piss off your god so badly, but we don’t really have the time for that.” Marcthain slowly crossed the room to the window and peeked carefully through the curtains outside.

Melissa jumped off the bed and tapped her hooves impatiently on the floor.

“All right, enough beating around the bush! What do you want from us? I’m guessing it’s not dance lessons. Though I’d be pretty good at that...”

Marcthain gave a crooked smile.

“I’m guessing you two have no idea where you even are, am I right?” Lucius and Melissa both nodded.

“All right then, let me explain.” He cleared his throat.

“You’re currently standing at the southernmost border of a small nation called Tiberun. Tiberun survives mostly on trade and seafaring. Right now, we’re in the village of Rivora. It’s basically the first stopover and trading hub for all the merchants bringing goods from the south to the nearest port city, Valdrath, about a day’s journey from here.”

He paused, studying Melissa for a moment.

“You’re not a Selvarin, are you?”

“Not that I know of,” the satyr said with a shrug. “Though I don’t even know what that means.”

“Forgive me. That’s what we call the beastfolk in our world. You’ve already seen a few of them here in the village. Liviana, the waitress downstairs at the inn, for example.”

Melissa puffed out her cheeks.

“I’m not beastfolk! I’m a Mae...” But Lucius quickly cut her off.

“Why are you asking us this? What are you getting at?”

Marcthain sighed.

“Here, in the Republic of Tiberun, all races are treated as equals. If you’re skilled in trade and business, you’re welcome. Slavery is forbidden here.”

“But that’s not the case everywhere,” he continued. “The mountain range behind us also marks Tiberun’s southern border. Beyond that lies the land of Yashar. It’s an endless grassland, crossed by shallow rivers and scattered hills. In Yashar, Selvarin and other non-human races are viewed as inferior and sold into slavery.”

“And what does any of this have to do with us?” Lucius asked, his voice rougher than usual. The thought of getting caught up between two worlds again made a shiver run down his spine.

Marcthain remained at the window, a deep frown creasing his brow. Outside, the first drops of a gentle rain began to patter against the cobblestones.

“More than you’d like,” he murmured finally, casting a furtive glance at Melissa.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Could you maybe just come out and say what you want?”

Marcthain turned to face them. His voice was calm, but his eyes were hard as stone.

“I want you to help me save this village.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Uh… we literally just got here. We don’t know anyone.”

“Exactly my point,” Marcthain shot back sharply. “You’re strangers. Nobody knows you. Nobody connects you to Yashar or Tiberun. You have no past here, you’re practically ghosts in this world. That makes you perfect.”

Lucius crossed his arms. “Start explaining.”

Marcthain took a deep breath, as if it pained him to say it.

“My full name is Marcthainas Aquilornas. I’m the commander of an unofficial defense force protecting the southern provinces of Tiberun,“ he said with a weary smile, as though he knew all too wellt hat his title meant little in times like these.

„Right now, our country is at war with the Kingdom of Valdrik far to the north. Most of our troops are tied up there. That leaves our southern border dangerously exposed.”

“So… the Kingdom of Valdrik is planning an attack from the south?” Lucius asked, confused.

“No,” Marcthain said firmly.

“I already told you I saw you when I came down from the mountains. The truth is, I’d just returned from Yashar. I intercepted unconfirmed information there about a planned surprise attack by a Yashari expeditionary force.”

“If that force arrives here, a lot of people will die.” His gaze flickered back to Melissa. “And even more will be sold into slavery.”

For a moment, silence reigned. Melissa narrowed her eyes, chewing her lower lip. Then she let out a heavy sigh.

“So… you want us to save an entire village from an army, huh?”

“I’m not expecting you to fight,” the commander said quickly, trying to reassure them.

“I want you to gather evidence. Names. Plans. Anything I can bring to the capital, Castruin, to convince our government to act and send reinforcements before it’s too late.”

Melissa folded her arms across her chest. “And what’s in it for us?”

A thin smile curved Marcthain’s lips. “Gold. Lodging. Protection. Official documents that will register you as citizens of Tiberun. Or…” His eyes narrowed. “…I could just report you. Two strangers, falling out of a magical portal. You’d be surprised how fast people end up in prison during wartime.”

Melissa scowled. “That sounds an awful lot like blackmail.”

Marcthain lifted his hands. “I prefer to call it necessity.”

Lucius shot Melissa a worried glance.

“It looks like… we don’t really have much of a choice.”

Marcthain let out a short, bitter laugh, then slung an arm around their shoulders and pulled them closer.

“Well then. Welcome to Tiberun, you two!”

Marcthain released them and stepped back again.

“But before you can help me, I need to prepare you.” His voice grew sharper now, almost military. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

Marcthain pulled a small vial from his vest. Inside, a liquid shimmered a deep ruby red.

“Magic, Lucius. Or what we call here… Essences.” He held the vial delicately between thumb and forefinger, turning it so the light glinted off the glass. Lucius’s eyes lit up.

“You mean… I could learn to use magic?” he asked, sounding breathless.

“To become a true mage would take years of study and patience. But anyone can master the basics. Even if it’s just simple tricks to disguise yourself, pick a lock, that sort of thing.”

Lucius leaned forward eagerly. “So… actual spellcasting? With ingredients and incantations and everything?”

“Exactly that.” Marcthain nodded. “But it’s not child’s play. Mix the Essences wrong or measure them poorly, and it can turn deadly fast. And the incantations have to be memorized precisely. One wrong word and…”

Melissa rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ughhh… learning formulas and mixing potions? No thanks. Count me out.”

Marcthain tucked the vial back into his vest, his face tightening with frustration, the corners of his mouth pulling downward.

“And how else do you plan to protect yourself? There’s a lot at stake here, and a bit more seriousness would do you good.”

Melissa gave a crooked grin. Her amber eyes flashed into a molten yellow, pupils narrowing like slits. She lifted her hands, and slowly, long claws slid out from her fingertips, while her fur bristled and her horns grew. 

“Weren’t you listening earlier? I’m perfectly capable of defending myself!”

Marcthain instinctively stepped back, though his expression stayed calm and steely. His hand even twitched toward the hilt of his sword. But Lucius stepped in quickly.

“Let it be, Melissa. I think you’ve made your point.”

A moment later, she shrank back into her usual form and stuck her tongue out at Marcthain once the tension eased from his posture.

Lucius scratched his chin.

“I think learning a few tricks might not be a bad idea. I mean… I’ve got to manage on my own sometimes if you’re not around. And I’ve already had a little experience with this kind of thing.”

Melissa shrugged. “If that’s what you want, knock yourself out. But don’t expect me to help you study.”

“Good,” the commander concluded. “Then come with me. I’ll take you to a friend. He runs a small workshop for Essences. He can teach you the basics.”

Melissa flopped back onto the bed as Marcthain gestured for Lucius to follow.

As he opened the door, noise spilled up from the tavern below. Laughter, clinking mugs, and the mouthwatering smell of sizzling meat. Lucius cast a look over his shoulder at Melissa, who was sprawled theatrically across the bed.

“Don’t forget to bring back some food when you’re done!” she called after them, just as the two men left the room.