"In cobblestone streets and whispered stories, one wild encounter would change everything."
The two walked through the pulsating streets of Novo Redondo.
The first sight that caught John's eye was the movement. It was his first time in the city, and everything seemed to dance before him: people in various outfits hurried past , while others chatted animatedly in front of the shops.
Right in the center of the main street was a carved stone fountain. It was circular, and in the middle stood the figure of a woman in a serene position, holding a bucket from which water flowed endlessly. Curiously, the fountain never overflowed, as if some silent enchantment regulated its flow. The sound of the water mingled with the hubbub of the city, creating a peculiar urban melody.
Around the fountain, buildings rose from one to three stories high. They were not residences—mostly shops, restaurants, blacksmith shops, and commercial establishments. A four-way intersection opened up ahead, separating paths through the tangle of buildings.
The ground beneath their feet was not made of beaten earth. The streets were paved with perfectly squared white stones, approved to architectural specifications . The contrast with the green of the trees and the blue of the sky gave the city a glow of living reality.
In the distance, towering imposingly, stood a castle even more magnificent than Venhorst Castle . Its towers touched the sky, its walls were white as freshly carved ivory. It seemed as if the entire city had been built around it—and perhaps it had been the same.
John stood there for a moment, admiring the monument. Alex, noticing his friend's gaze, commented:
—That is the castle of the Venhorst estate . All administrative decisions about the territory are made there. Your grandfather used to live in that castle, and the current lord does too—though he prefers Barrier Castle.
—But Lord Fernando still needs to come here every week—he added, in a lower tone—to personally resolve some important matters.
They continued walking, with Alex guiding the tour and pointing out important points in the city.
They stopped in front of a three-story building. Men in armor—some so menacing that they had forgotten the legends of war—came and went in and out of the building frequently. Above the entrance, a carved wooden sign read the name of the building:
[Mercenary Guild]
John raised his eyebrows and read softly. Alex, with his usual smile, took on the role of guide:
— The Mercenary Guild. It functions as an official organization, protecting the rights of those who live by the sword. Mercenaries gather here to take on missions. Their livelihood and trust depend on the tasks we accept.
John narrowed his eyes curiously.
— And where do these missions come from? How do they work?
"Most of them come from right here, from Novo Redondo," Alex replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "Nobles, merchants, and sometimes even ordinary citizens leave their requests on record. The guild evaluates each mission, classifies it by difficulty and reward, and then places it on the mission board. Anyone can leave a mission. But not everyone can complete it."
John thought for a moment before asking the next question:
— And how does one become a mercenary?
John smiled but said nothing more. Alex, in turn, narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned to him, frowning slightly.
— I don't know how, but there is an identity requirement — he replied, not quite understanding why John had brought up the subject. — And the candidate must be at least twelve years old. Why? Don't tell me you want to become a mercenary now?
John shrugged, still with the slight smile on his face.
— Just curious... That's all. Let's go.
They continued on, crossing a series of streets that ended in a large, busy square. The organization of the place was impressive: there was an entire section just for fruits and vegetables, one for hunters to display their prey—from rabbits and wild boars to more exotic beasts—, a food area with spice stalls, another for jobs, one just for iron and tools, and even a corner reserved for bards, who played soft melodies or recited poems, expecting coins in exchange for applause.
As they walked, their eyes scanned the surroundings. Among the passersby, they spotted other demi-humans—some with elongated ears, others with subtle fur on their arms—and even a few beastmen. Still, it was clear: the human race dominated. It was something known throughout the continent—after plants, humans were the most fertile of all species. Unlike elves, orcs , or even draconians, conception between humans did not depend on luck or arcane blessings. All they had to do was be of childbearing age and have a night of passion... the miracle of life followed its course.
They passed through all the shopping areas until they reached a fruit and vegetable stand. The variety was impressive: radishes with vibrant leaves, robust carrots, dense cabbages, oranges with glossy skin. There were also fruits that John didn't recognize, like one that was lilac in color with silver spots and another that looked like a cross between a cucumber and a watermelon.
The salesman, a shrewd-looking middle-aged man, noticed the two young men approaching. He slowly rose from his chair, cracking his back, and walked over with a smile so wide it nearly split his face in half.
— Boys! Boys! We have radishes, oranges, carrots, cucumbers magu ! All fresh, just picked from the agricultural area of the territory!
John looked at the produce carefully. Everything looked incredibly fresh—maybe too fresh . There was no sign of dust, bruises, or shelf life. Alex, on the other hand, still smiling, looked at the food with a more analytical eye. He had seen this trick before.
"Magical preservation item," he murmured to John, barely moving his lips. "Low grade. These fruits must have been picked days... or weeks ago."
John didn't answer. He pointed to the radishes and the fruit the man had called cugo. magu .
"Twelve of each," he said casually.
The merchant's eyes shone silver in the sun. His smile widened, now almost pushing his cheeks upward. The word "boys" evaporated from his mouth as if it had never been said.
— Young people! — he corrected himself enthusiastically. — The radish is two copper coins, and the cugo magu , three. Twelve of each... that 's six silver coins in all.
Alex frowned.
John raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
—Wait... six silver coins? That seems like a lot.
Before the merchant could justify it with some story about the weather or the transportation, a shout sounded not far away. A murmur rose in the crowd, and the two automatically turned toward the noise.
Then they saw her. A girl running between the stalls, with disheveled hair, triangular ears on top of her head, and a bushy tail wagging behind her. She was dressed in simple, torn clothes, and in her dirty hands she held a loaf of bread—freshly stolen, apparently.
— She stole again! — shouted an angry baker, coming right behind. — Damn bitch!
The guards began to move, clearing a path through the stallholders. But the girl ran with feline agility, dodging people with graceful leaps and animalistic lunges. Her golden eyes flashed as she passed near John and Alex—for a brief moment, she stared at them.
And John felt something strange.
As if I had seen her before.
Or like I was about to see her many more times.
"Okay," John said, taking the six silver coins and handing them to the merchant.
The man, agile as a fox, quickly packed the twelve radishes and twelve cugo magu in two simple but sturdy packages.
They continued on their way until they reached another stall, which sold the same products, but at much lower prices.
An instant frown appeared on John's face—that "oh, that explains it" look—and in unison, they both burst out laughing heartily.
— Hahahaha , hahaha , hahaha ! — Hahahaha , hahaha , hahaha !
Neither of them had ever needed to buy food before; both John and Alex had everything available at Venhorst Castle . It was only natural that merchants would be shrewd in order to make as much profit as possible.
As they walked, they bit into some fruit right there, feeling the freshness and flavor.
In the corner of the square, an elderly woman and a ragged child were begging for alms. Both seemed weakened by hunger—the girl thin, almost without strength, and the woman with an expressionless expression, as if hunger had frozen her emotions.
John approached them cautiously, and Alex followed closely behind.
The young man took his packages, gave one to himself and handed the rest to the woman and child.
When the old woman saw the contents, her face lit up with a broad smile—a true miracle, for it seemed she had not spoken in a long time. Bowing in gratitude, she took a cugo magu and handed it to his granddaughter, saying in a weak but sincere voice:
— Young man, thank you very much. May the Goddess bless you.
John nodded humbly and followed Alex, who, at that moment, felt an even greater respect for his friend grow.
To Alex, John was not just the young lord who had grown up around the Venhorst family ; he was a leader with heart—not arrogant, and with a rare kindness.
After a few laps around the square, boredom began to set in. He wanted to get out of there and get on with what they had planned.
They headed for the nearest exit when suddenly a strong wind blew across the square.
In an instant, a girl came running at high speed and collided with John.
Beng !
They both fell to the ground. The girl's elbow hit John's head, but he didn't have time to dodge it — neither he nor Alex had noticed her approach.
— Ouch... ouch... — John grumbled , trying to get up, while the girl was breathing heavily beside him.
John let out a low groan. The force of that girl's impact had been surprising. As soon as she hit his head, she stumbled and fell on top of John's thin body. He couldn't see her properly, as she covered her head with both hands, growling angrily:
— Hey, aren't you going to get up? Do you think I'm your bed or what?
Without waiting for an answer, he tried to lift her above him. When he took his hands off his head, his fingers reached a region that, in the future, might grow two mountains, but which, at that moment, was smooth as a board.
Upon feeling the touch, the girl jumped back, covering her breasts with her hands, like a frightened kitten.
— Aaaaaa ! — he exclaimed .
Only then did John realize who was standing before him: a girl with silver hair, blue eyes with black irises, an oval face covered in dirt but still with chubby, almost childish cheeks. Her clothes were worn and dusty.
— Thief! Stop the thief! — shouted a voice behind her.
A fat merchant, panting and in a hurry, ran towards her. Upon hearing the voice, the girl took off again, completely ignoring the boy who had tried to pull her off. She ran so fast that John didn't have time to react.
Stunned by the sequence of events, John stood motionless as the merchant reached the spot, panting, and addressed him with difficulty:
— You... why did you let the thief get away?
The man bent down to pick up the fruit the girl had dropped on the floor. John just shook the dust off his clothes, still processing the situation.
— John, are you okay? — Alex asked , worried.
— I am. But who the hell was that girl? — John replied, looking in the direction where she had disappeared.
After catching his breath and the fruits, the merchant explained:
— She's a survivor. From the werewolf race. She lives around here robbing whoever she can. You should be careful with these riffraff.
From the merchant's expression, it wasn't the first time he had been a victim of that girl. John nodded in agreement, but when he checked his bag of belongings, he realized that it was gone. Obviously, the girl hadn't run away because she was worried about the merchant, but because she was taking John's bag with her.
Alex, noticing the change in his friend's expression, asked:
— What's wrong? Are you okay? — Alex asked, worried.
The frown on John's face deepened. First he had been tricked by a crafty merchant; now a wolf girl had stolen his purse. It wasn't the value of the contents that bothered him—they were a few coppers and a few silver coins, nothing he really needed. What hurt him was his wounded pride. He could already imagine the disapproving looks Ferdinand and Catherine would give him when he told them what had happened.
— The wolf girl... took my bag.
Alex frowned, frowning as well. To John, it was just change, but to Alex, that bag represented months of pocket money. He clutched his own bag, hoping he wouldn't have to go through the same thing.
After this episode, they left the square and sat on a bench-rail in a public area, immersed in a somber silence. John broke the mood:
—What's wrong with the werewolf race? Why did a young woman from that race, from the junior generation, become a thief in the square?
Alex hesitated, not knowing all the details, but he was aware of the common sense of the kingdom—his family was informed, and he had learned a few things.
— The werewolf race is nearly extinct, John. They're on a list of endangered species.
John was stunned. How could an entire race be on the brink of extinction? The doubt did not last long, as Alex explained:
— The world is cruel. Only the strongest survive. In the past, races were much more diverse than they are today, but each fought for its own dominance, seeing the others as enemies.
— And the werewolves?
shapeshifter path of evolution —a path that best suited them. During an ancient war, that path was lost, and it was devastating. Without that advantage, they could not defend themselves. Little by little, the race weakened.
—Is that where they lost ground?
– Exactly. Without the means to protect themselves, they were forced to submit to the more powerful races. Furthermore, their birth rate is very low, incapable of compensating for the natural mortality rate. As a result, year after year, they became extinct. Today, it is rare to find a werewolf.
— So they are that rare nowadays? How did they organize themselves? — João asked.
— They scattered, seeking refuge in small, isolated towns.
— One girl alone does not make an entire race — Alex commented. — If it is not just her, she will have to restart, at most, a family of three, or a small group.
John, however, no longer wanted to know anything about the werewolf race. His patience was at its limit. For him, the day would only get better if they found something really good in the city, after all, lunch was almost time.
"Let's go to the castle," he said with refreshing, somewhat sarcastic humor.
Alex said. The possibility of seeing his mother again, a commander who looked after the castle in Novo Redondo, always gave him some encouragement. She was the confidence that Ceto gave him when he left the kingdom when he was by Fernando's side.
The two of them got up and took a different route. Instead of retracing their steps, they took a shortcut that led them to a long corner, where two streets formed a long, narrow alley.
In the middle of the alley, their jaws literally dropped to the floor — and it was no wonder. At the other end was the wolf girl, the same one with silver hair, blue eyes with black irises, an oval face and, despite the dirt, her cheeks still carried that baby fat that gave her a cruel charm.
She was stunned for a moment, but then she smiled bright white teeth. In her hand was a bag of nuts, but—surprise—John's sack was in plain sight.
Without hesitation, she turned around and ran away.
John quickly recovered, growling angrily:
— Not this time... you thief. I won't let you get away.
The girl turned around, teasing:
— Come get me if you can.
John could tell she wasn't planning on stopping. Anger built up inside him, and in an instant, a chase began between the young Iron Tail and the cunning wolf girl.