Wanderlust Beastkin, Beauty and the Beastkin

Beck’s Perspective

I turned away without casting another glance at the females, knowing I had to project the air of entitlement expected from a legendary beastkin. Though I despised putting on a façade, it was the simplest way to achieve my goals without encountering any obstacles. I would express my apologies for seeming brusque with them once we were alone. For now, I made my way toward the visitors’ residences, not looking back. Suddenly, Elara’s image invaded my thoughts—her fierce determination shone through despite her injuries and the troubling circumstances surrounding her. I recalled how she held that other beastkin protectively, ready to defend her little bat friend at all costs. She truly was remarkable, and it was no surprise that Perla was so intent on bringing her back.

I reached the visitor’s area, enclosed by a tall stone wall and adorned with a grand silver gate featuring an intricate vine and flower design. A guard stood by the gate, graciously stepping aside to allow me entry. As I passed through, I was greeted by an enchanting atmosphere, enhanced by a spell that infused the air with a fresh, clean scent. The area boasted beautiful flower gardens, and the grounds were impeccably maintained. A charming cobblestone path wound its way toward the residences, which were elegant two-story white stone manors, each surrounded by a tall private stone fence that shielded the backyards from view. Strolling along the pathway, flanked by vibrant flowerbeds and perfectly trimmed trees, I arrived at number seven, which was just as splendid as its neighbors. Further along, I noticed a cluster of smaller two-room houses made of gray bricks, likely reserved for those deemed less worthy. Even so, they were still far superior to the accommodations offered to the females, which could hardly be called living spaces.

Rather than entering house number seven immediately, I chose to continue along the path, taking in my surroundings in case we needed to make a swift exit. My brothers often teased me about my tendency to scout the area, but my cautious nature has proven beneficial for all of us on more than one occasion.

I noticed another male emerge from number ten, the final white brick manor before the smaller gray brick buildings began. He was a robust bear beastkin, his rounded brown ears accentuating a prominent scar that ran down the side of his face. Trailing behind him were two females wearing slave collars, their white cotton garments fashioned into triangles over their chests and short skirts that left little to the imagination. Both bore brands seared into their skin, as males were unable to mark females in the conventional way unless they were legendary beastkin. They were tethered by thin chains inscribed with magical runes, and he led them like pets on leashes. One girl was a black cat beastkin, her long hair cascading in spiral curls, a large fluffy black tail swaying behind her, dark brown skin against her bright emerald green eyes. The other was a slender, lightly tanned girl with large feathery black wings, her short pixie-cut black hair framing her face, bright amber eyes sparkling with a hint of defiance, and pointed ears peeking through. Both were stunning, despite the visible scratches marring their skin, resembling marks from bear claws.

I observed the defeated manner in which the two females walked. Suddenly, the delicate bird girl halted and gazed at me with wide eyes. I was accustomed to being the center of attention, but the man holding the leashes was not pleased with her momentary distraction. Seizing the opportunity, he kicked her in the back, sending her crashing onto the cobblestones, scraping her knees and hands. Despite the pain, she remained silent, rising unsteadily to her feet, blood trickling down her legs. Once upright, she averted her gaze from mine, focusing intently on the stone path as she resumed her walk.

I pondered the healing potions I had received from the shrine. When combined with my own magic, I realized I could potentially eliminate those brands and escape with the two of them. However, I needed to tread carefully to avoid drawing attention, as I didn’t want to invite more trouble upon us. Yet, living in such a way was no life for anyone.

I refrained from helping the poor little female, knowing it would only provoke the male bear further. Despite the anger bubbling within me, I managed to keep my composure. It was crucial to remain inconspicuous, especially since I had resolved to rescue those two females as well. I was only complicating matters for myself, but it was hard to stand by and watch defenseless beastkin suffer without taking action.

As I proceeded along the winding path, the females gracefully advanced ahead of the male, their eyes averted from mine as if I were a mere shadow in their midst. Upon rounding the bend, my gaze fell upon ten modest gray houses nestled closely beside the ten magnificent white manors, although smaller than the white buildings, they were far nicer than the typical home in the village. At the far end, near the imposing gate, I noticed a structure that served as a kitchen, flanked by a couple of vigilant guards. Suddenly, five female beastkin appeared, their short black dresses embellished with delicate white ruffles, as they emerged with trays stacked high with covered dishes. They began to take turns gently rapping on the doors of the grand manors, their movements a harmonious blend of grace and purpose.

I made my way to number seven, driven by hunger and the desire for a warm meal. The wind carried the delicious aroma of food, and it was simply irresistible. I wasn’t overly surprised to find that there wasn’t a lock on the door, which was typical for a village so isolated. This suited me perfectly since I had plans to rescue the two females from house number ten as well. It was one thing to have multiple females, but it was entirely different to treat them as mere objects for carving. Some beastkin truly had a few loose screws.

As I entered the manor at number seven, I was greeted by lofty ceilings crafted from immaculate white stone. The expansive foyer opened into a sitting area, where two sumptuous couches faced one another. A lively fire crackled in the hearth, and beyond it lay three doorways. The first led to a quaint bedroom featuring a slightly lumpy bed that remained serviceable. However, I was taken aback upon reaching the second bedroom, where a furious and flushed Elara was already present. Her skin radiated a rosy glow from a recent scrub, and she donned a sheer light pink garment that barely concealed her chest, complemented by an incredibly short matching skirt. A magic suppression collar was firmly clasped around her neck, along with ankle cuffs that had runes in them to prevent her from leaving the room. The room was a chaotic mess, with a metal vase flung across the floor and flower petals scattered everywhere. Books were strewn about haphazardly, and a bookshelf had toppled over. The bedding was in disarray, with one pillow torn apart, leaving light tan feathers scattered around.

Upon noticing my arrival, she swiftly seized a sheet and wrapped it around her form, though I had already caught a fleeting glimpse of her before she could fully conceal herself. I certainly wouldn’t dare to comment on how stunningly beautiful she appeared, as such a remark would likely be unwelcome in this particular moment. She moved toward the metal vase, lifting it as if it were a weapon for her defense, convinced it might intimidate me should I pose a threat. In reality, even if that magic suppression collar were to be removed and I were in a deep slumber, she would still be unable to inflict any harm upon me. This isn’t a matter of arrogance; it’s merely a characteristic of my magical abilities. I chose to keep this information to myself, aiming to foster within her a sense of empowerment and self-protection.

I raised my hands in a protective manner, softly asserting, "I have no intention of causing you any harm."

With a swift motion, she brandished the vase but held onto it tightly, retorting, "That’s the classic line from males right before they launch a surprise attack."

I took a moment to reflect on her words, saying, "It sounds like you’ve encountered some rather peculiar situations."

As I stepped back, I noticed her eyes narrowing, weighing her options. Gradually, she lowered the vase, which appeared to be quite cumbersome for her to hold aloft for too long.

"I refuse to let you leave a mark on me!"

"I wouldn’t even consider it; if anyone were to leave a mark, it would surely be you," I blurted out, only to realize the implications of my words. Did I just imply that she had the power to mark me? What on earth did I just say? She scrutinized me from head to toe, taking a moment to truly observe me for the first time, then placed her free hand on her hip, tilting her head slightly in contemplation.

Coming Next Time: Meanwhile in Duarte Village: Elara’s Magic