Chapter 152: The Heartwood Clan
Humans referred to these people as "flat-tailed demons." In the stories that Ollie had grown up on, they were voracious beasts with long rabbit-like teeth that could sever a man’s leg in a single bite and wide, flat tails that were powerful enough to crush a man’s skull in a single swipe. Such beastly demons were said to be masters of traps, dangerous and cunning. As a child, he’d heard stories of "flat-tailed demons" luring people to their deaths by crushing them with falling logs or flinging them into deep pits lined with wooden spikes before ultimately using human bodies as mortar in the dams they built for their villages.
Marcel had corrected him before they set out. These "flat-tailed demons" referred to themselves as the Heartwood Clan. According to the vampire, they were legendary for their woodworking skills and had once formed a small community within the Vale of Mists.
Far from being fearsome demons, the figures that emerged from the earthen homes struck Ollie as very cute. They were taller than most members of the Horned Clan but shorter than most humans. From a few curious young ones to the wizened elder who emerged from the largest burrow, they all possessed rounded faces with chubby cheeks, long whiskers and buck teeth that protruded two inches below their upper lips.
"Well, well, well," the old woman who emerged from the largest burrow said. She wore a simple homespun dress, but around her neck hung several necklaces of elaborately carved wooden beads and in her hand, she carried a polished wooden cane though she barely seemed to need its support to move.
"If it isn’t the merchant of darkness himself," Old Nan said, her face blossoming into a wide smile. "You haven’t changed a bit," she said, giving Marcel an evaluating look. "If you’ve come for the statue again, you still can’t have it. Wait till this old woman dies before you try to snatch her best things!"
"Old Nan," Marcel said, putting on an exaggeratedly pained expression. "I would never snatch your things. If you haven’t sold it to me yet, it’s just because I haven’t been able to find the right price for you. This time, I’m not here to trade though," he added, gesturing at Ollie, Daithi and the horned soldiers who accompanied them.
"May we impose for a bit? I didn’t bring anything to trade but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a small gift for you and your elders," he added, producing a small tin box from a pouch at his waist. "I know how hard it is to dry your tea in this damp place, let me at least give you some good leaves from across the mountains and we can drink while we speak."
"Hmmpf," the old woman snorted in disbelief. "From across the mountains? You wouldn’t be trying to swindle us with tea grown in human lands, would you? It seems you haven’t left your former people entirely behind," she added, giving Ollie and Daithi a pointed look.
"This is Ollie," Marcel said, appearing at the young man’s side and throwing an arm casually over his shoulder before he noticed the vampire had moved. "He’s a friend of our new Seneschal. The other fellow is Daithi. He’s a prisoner, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad man. He knows things that you should hear."
Daithi was startled when Marcel mentioned him but as soon as he noticed the elder turning her attention to him, he gave a feeble wave and did his best to look helpless.
When they’d entered the village, he’d been fairly relaxed. He had been working hard since speaking with Lady Ashlynn to accept that the ’Eldritch’ people weren’t as demonic as he’d been led to believe and so far, everyone he’d met seemed amiable.