The other side, Part II

The embodiment of evil. Nightmarish faces with mouths full of crooked moving parts ready to devour you piece by piece while their empty black eyes stared into nothingness. Myriads of segmented legs, shells hard as metal and pincers that cut better than knives.

Such creatures were roaming the settlement like citizens would on the streets. One of them ate fish from a sack lying around, a medium Cursed was tied to what appeared to be a carriage with sliding runners instead of wheels, and another next to it was saddled.

People walked around these monsters without a second thought, not paying them any mind.

Actually, there was an exception: a little girl who was petting a group of lesser Cursed. My instincts screamed to bolt and rescue her before the beasts tore her to shreds.

"What in the name of the Divines is this?" I murmured.

Ray climbed down her buffalo and stepped in front of me, opening her arms as she stood in front of the spectacle. "Welcome, Paladin Corydorin, to the tribe of the White Crab Kin."

"Don't these people know how dangerous the Cursed are?" My hand gripped my weapon, ready to draw it.

"Calm down, please."

"How am I supposed to calm down? It's a miracle you're all alive. These things could kill you without even trying."

"What if maybe us being alive means the Cursed aren't as bad as you think?"

"That's insane. Are you telling me you believe these predators can be… tamed?"

A thought pushed itself into my mind.

Our own shepherds had already succeeded in taming certain predators: the guardbeasts. Wolves and some other carnivores that were used to protect cattle from the Cursed.

And these people clearly hadn't begun co-existing with the Cursed recently. They must've lived like this for generations.

"Perhaps you're right…"

"You worried me there for a second," Ray said as her shoulders lowered. I almost thought you'd start attacking them while babbling that you were protecting our people."

"Come on, I wouldn't go that far, hehe." My eyes trailed away then caught something too absurd even by the standards of what I'd seen so far. "Is that a greater Cursed sleeping next to the main tent?" Even in a lying posture, the titan was taller than the roof next to it.

Ray cleared her throat. "You can call her Cuddlyhill. Her real name is hard to pronounce but it basically means that."

"You're pulling my sandal."

"I swear I'm not. She can get grumpy in the mornings but other than that she wouldn't hurt a snail."

I stared at the thing. It looked like a bigger, rougher and redder version of a medium tier Cursed. It shared their elongated body, but with several spikes running along its shell and carrying four even sharper pincers instead of two. These beings could topple down buildings if they so desired, yet this one was sleeping in the center of a place it could ruin just by walking.

A few of the 'barbarians' stepped up towards us after a while of observing from afar. They looked… surprisingly normal. Their skin was tanner than mine, but not nearly on the level of people like Oscar, and their thicker clothes tightly wrapped most of their skin—designed for the lower temperature of the Cursed Lands.

But yeah, barring superficial differences like clothes or the designs of tents and equipment, few things separated them from normal people other than the fact that they'd tamed the Cursed.

The gradually increasing crowd parted ways for an old man around the height of a kid—too frail looking for the leader of a group that survived in Cursed territory. He wore a myriad of clanking pieces of shells and bones, an attire unfit even for travel.

Ray translated as he spoke.

"Thank you for coming, head of the flatfooters." I raised an elbow, but to be fair their nickname was less offensive than what our people called theirs. "Please, allow us to show you our hospitality."

They'll invite me over for dinner and I'll have to eat whatever they eat, won't I?

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. What was the worst thing one could put on a plate?

ᗢ᠃ ⚘ ˚ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ 𖦹 ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘᠃ ♡

The Cursed.

Of course they ate them.

Why eat the tasty fish that were available in almost every body of water in any part of the world? Better to feast on the multilegged spawns of evil.

We were seated in the sand, out in the open—fifty or so people gathered around a massive wooden table that they'd assembled from multiple pieces. Apparently they carried them wherever they travelled.

Oh, and the Cursed were around, too. One of the lesser ones rested in the lap of a lady and an old man was leaning his back on a medium Cursed. Some people even shared parts of their meals with them.

I already knew Cursed devoured one another when given the chance. It made perfect sense coming from them.

Both Ray and the tribe leader stared at me as I myself stared at my plate, which was an entire shell full of what I could only describe as the gooiest and strongest smelling soup this side of the borders. Even if this were my favorite meal ever I'd be unable to eat the entire thing—the shell was wider than my shoulders.

"How come everyone else gets human sized portions?" I whispered to Ray.

"They show respect by giving you the biggest serving. Don't worry, you're not expected to eat everything. The leftovers will be given to the cattle so nothing is wasted."

Cattle. They referred to them as cattle.

I sighed and took the small cup meant to be used as a spoon—which was another piece of a Cursed's shell—and proceeded to dip it in the mass of bubbling lumps.

Thick, orange and sizzling, the broth was too intimidating so I opted to only go for a small piece of the meat floating around, then tipped the cup to return all the liquid. Some of it ran along my fingers. It was sticky.

The flesh tasted… briny, and was less chewy than I expected. It reminded me of clams but firmer and a bit sweeter. I didn't feel an urge to puke so that was a win.

I'd come here to learn about the issues the White Crab Kin had with us, yet every time I mentioned the matter Ray suggested I wait a bit more instead of translating my words.

So before I was even allowed to bring up the topic I'd instead received a whole history lesson about the origin of their culture, a flash presentation of how they cared for their Cursed—which they called 'runecrabs'—and also every single member of their tribe had given me their name. I was unable to pronounce half of them.

Seriously, what could push these people to want to sabotage our knights? They gave the impression to not even have a word for battle in their language.

And their enthusiasm might've been a little contagious.

"Then I told him 'No, Oscar, Betta didn't mean that kind of ass licking' and he looked at me clueless like a mole on a boat." When Ray finished translating my words half the tribe laughed and the other half cooed at Oscar's innocence.

As dark fell upon us, we moved the party inside the biggest tent, where we continued to talk about meaningless things well into the night.

Until their leader finally decided to address the Cursed in the room… well, metaphorically—as there were quite a few of those present with us.

"Head of the flatfooters," Ray translated. "Allow me to formally apologize for the troubles some of our brothers have caused you. We assure you they have been properly scolded for their behaviour and it won't happen again."

Wait, so this was all the result of a small unruly group?

And did that mean the issue had resolved itself before I'd even arrived? Or rather, it was just about to be resolved with some basic talking.

"Can I ask what drove your brothers to disturb us?"

Ray translated these words in a rather serious tone, and the leader also frowned upon hearing them.

"Paladin Corydorin, is there any way we could convince you to give up your fight with the creatures you call Cursed?"