Ch 3.5

Only four of them remained at the camp now, sitting in a loose circle around the fire. The flames crackled and spat as the stew bubbled in the pot, its aroma curling through the air. A woman with long blonde hair stirred it gently, her face lit gold by the emberlight.

It looked like an ordinary campsite—until you noticed the elf doing the cooking. Elves rarely shared company, much less meals, with beastmen or humans. And one of noble blood ladling stew for the others was almost unheard of.

Eliguen Cretzel, however, was an exception. Shrewd yet kind when it mattered, she was the sort who could smile with warmth while seeing three steps ahead.

“It’s quite peaceful with them gone,” she said at last, breaking the quiet.

Rukas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry about Grimor. The man’s addicted to chaos. Thanks for stepping in—if you hadn’t, he and Heilfem would’ve torn the alliance apart before it even began.”

Lukero bowed his head slightly.
“Truly, thank you, Lady Eliguen. Had you not intervened, things could’ve gone badly.”

Eliguen waved a hand as she ladled the stew into bowls.

“Oh, come now—no need to thank me. I only did what needed doing.” She handed a bowl to Lukero. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

Lukero accepted it gratefully, murmuring his thanks. She served Rukas next, then Ben.

“Thank you for the meal,” Ben said, surprised by her easy grace.

Eliguen poured the last portion for herself and settled beside the fire.

Ben found himself watching her for a moment, curious. For a noble elf to cook and serve beastmen and a human was unthinkable. Yet she did it without hesitation—humble when she chose to be, cunning when she had to be.

To Ben, she seemed every bit the kind of leader her clan would one day follow.

Ben inhaled the stew’s rich aroma before taking a cautious bite. He tasted a mouthful—rich, creamy, and perfectly seasoned.

His eyes widened. “This is… actually really good,” he said, staring at the bowl in surprise.

Lady Eliguen smiled faintly. “I appreciate that. Don’t be shy if you’d like another serving.”

It sounded like polite small talk, but for Ben it was genuine praise. Food on the Isle had never agreed with him; beastmen tended to cook their meat half raw, and he’d spent most of his time preparing his own meals. This stew, though—this was different.

Across the fire, Rukas and Lukero ate contentedly, each nodding in quiet approval as they enjoyed their portions.

While Ben was eating, Eliguen’s curious voice broke the quiet.

“Forgive me for intruding, but Ben—what’s with all those pockets? I can sense seedlings and grains packed into them. Are you planning to sell them at Barville’s market? I could introduce you to someone who pays fair coin.”

Ben glanced down at himself. The heavy jacket and long trousers he wore looked out of place in the Isle’s humid climate, where most preferred light, short clothing. What stood out most were the uneven, hand‑stitched pockets strapped shut at the ends—each one bulging with seeds until he resembled a padded doll.

He gave a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. They’re part of my gear. I use them for my flora mana arts. I can’t afford a proper kit yet, so I repurposed this jacket and sewed in the pockets myself. It’s crude, but useful. I’ll get better equipment someday.”

Eliguen blinked, somewhat impressed.

“I see. My apologies for assuming.”

“No need,” Ben said easily.

Lukero eyed the thick jacket with sympathy.

“Even so, I can’t imagine wearing that in this heat. Must be unbearable.”

Ben smiled. “It is, a little—but I’m used to discomfort. Don’t worry, I manage.”

Dinner passed peacefully after that. When the bowls were emptied, Ben helped tidy up the camp before the night settled fully in.

He got to his feet and approached Lukero.

“Let me keep watch tonight,” he offered.

Lukero shook his head with a friendly smile.

“Appreciate the thought, but Rukas will handle it.”

Ben frowned, glancing at the crocodile beastman sprawled out on the ground.

“But isn’t he already asleep?”

Rukas lay perfectly still at the center of the camp, one arm tucked under his head.

“Look again,” Lukero said, amusement in his voice as his feathers rustled.

Ben crouched down and blinked in surprise. Rukas was lying there with one eye shut—but the other remained wide open, unfocused and drifting lazily around the camp.

“What is he—?”

“One of his tribe’s traits,” Lukero explained proudly. “They can keep half their brain awake while the other sleeps. If anything enters the camp—or even gives off a hint of threat—he’ll sense it instantly.”

Ben gave a stiff nod, a little uneasy. Guess I’ll stay up just in case…

“Good night, Ben,” Lukero said, then stretched out his wings and launched himself skyward. A rush of wind scattered the embers as he vanished into the branches above.

Ben watched him go, still a little envious of the birdman’s ease. Some avian beastmen preferred to roost in trees—safer, freer, always ready to take flight.

He sighed. I’ll just try to rest and keep a light watch, he thought.

It had been decided that the three men would sleep outside, while Lady Eliguen would use the carriage as her quarters. Ben laid his pocket-heavy jacket beside him, arranged his bedding on the grass, and was just settling in when the carriage door creaked open.

Lady Eliguen peeked out, the firelight catching her golden hair.

“Hey, Ben—can I speak with you for a moment?”

Ben sat up, surprised.

“Ah—sure. Should we talk here?”

She smiled softly.

“I have something I want to ask you. Inside, where it’s quiet.”