We finally reached a city, Arthur thought.
The forest had thinned gradually over the past day, though not without resistance. After departing from their original route, the road had narrowed into uncertain paths — overgrown trails pressed between ancient trunks, roots twisting like coiled serpents beneath the wheels. Branches scraped against the carriage sides in uneven rhythm. More than once, Herold had to dismount to clear fallen limbs or guide the horses through marsh‑soft earth.
The astray path carried both urgency and doubt. The Knightmane pup required care beyond what mana alone could sustain, and every hour stretched thin beneath that understanding. Yet leaving the main route exposed them to unfamiliar terrain — territories less patrolled, less predictable.
At night, the forest felt closer.
Shadows gathered thick between trees, and distant movements stirred imagination into unrest. The horses had grown tense more than once, nostrils flaring at scents the humans could not detect. Even Arthur, who rarely entertained unease, remained silent.
Panic did not erupt — but it lingered quietly, like pressure behind the ribs.
Then, just past dawn on the diverted morning, the trees began to part with intention rather than accident. The undergrowth thinned into maintained clearings. Stone markers appeared at intervals along the roadside — carved with beast sigils and territorial crests. The scent of damp wilderness gave way to smoke, leather, and livestock.
Walls rose ahead — not towering battlements, but broad wooden palisades reinforced with stone at the base. Watchtowers stood at intervals, their platforms occupied by figures bearing spears tipped with bone and metal alike, many accompanied by a familiar. Beyond the gates, rooftops layered upward in uneven tiers, interwoven with hanging bridges and wooden scaffolds.
Herold straightened slightly on the bench.
"We have reached FuriFur," he said.
The name seemed to carry weight even in his tone.
As they passed beneath the archway, Arthur observed the details carefully. Carvings adorned the inner walls, stretching across a vast area without rising high enough to block the surrounding nature — beasts and similar creatures, some known and some unknown to Arthur.
"This is FuriFur," Herold continued. "The land of man and beasts. They keep extensive records on most creatures in the Lesse Forest. Even the extinct manaless species. And those from the lush wilderness near your home."
Arthur's gaze shifted toward the structure in the distance— a humongous castle that could house all people he has seen in the place. Carved reliefs ran along its outer beams, depicting sketches of beasts and alike, among them stood out the crest of the nobles, a silver maned wolf with blue eyes and cloudy fur.
"We should be able to help the Knightmane pup while we are here," Herold finished.
Only then did Arthur allow himself a quiet breath.
Relief came not as joy, but as release from tension.
The tension that had lingered through diverted trails and unseen watchers softened slightly within guarded walls. The horses slowed naturally among the movement of traders and beast‑handlers, though their numbers were low, as most towns within Lesse traded primarily among themselves.. Somewhere nearby, a large feline growled, with red pupils and black mane that seemed darker than its black fur — not in threat, but irritation, resting on a soft bedding of woven fiber.
The city sustained coexistence and dominance through the aid of beasts.
Yet beneath the relief remained a faint unease.
They had entered a place that understood beasts.
Which meant it might also understand the Knightmane — and the rarity of this surviving pup.
Arthur glanced toward the bundle within the carriage.
For now, survival had won.
What followed would depend on FuriFur.
>>>
Arthur, Cellis, and Herold stepped down from the carriage once the gates of FuriFur closed behind them. The old escort adjusted his coat and said, "I will be visiting a friend. I will wait here. Meet me when the sun is at its highest." Without further explanation, he guided the carriage away along the inner road.
The city moved around them — beast‑handlers leading creatures through side streets, merchants calling from shaded stalls, the scent of herbs and local dishes lingered in the air. Wooden walkways connected higher structures, and carved pillars marked intersections with beast sigils. Yet Arthur's attention did not linger on the surroundings.
Cellis swayed slightly.
The Knightmane pup remained wrapped in cloth within her arms, its small mouth pressed against her finger. Her mana flowed continuously into it.
Arthur observed the dwindling of her reserves and the instability in her transfer.
"You look tired," he said evenly. "Give the pup to me."
She hesitated for only a moment before handing it over.
As Arthur's fingers brushed against hers, he transferred a stream of mana while simultaneously taking the pup. The contact was brief.
Yet to Cellis, it felt unfamiliar.
His hands were warm.
Not physically — but in a way that felt like a pleasant current spreading into her palm while something subtle left her. Her reserves had always been abundant; she had never required mana from another but the fatigue of sleeplessness caught up to her.So, the sensation was new. She never suspected Arthur for her reserves after all, no light wielder had given her mana.
The pup was merely an excuse to touch me…? Is this the sensation of love they speak of?
She steadied herself immediately, taking it as a breakthrough in their relationship.
Arthur, meanwhile, focused elsewhere.
The mana transfer had been complete yet, he had felt a backflow.But, He was more concerned about the pup.
"This pup is consuming a great amount of mana.I could handle it for now"
They began walking toward the elevated district where the castle stood. The stone path inclined gradually, bordered by banners depicting a silver‑maned wolf crest.
Arthur adjusted his perception.
As he fed mana into the pup, something unusual brushed against his senses.
"What is this…?"
It was not mana, not exactly. It resembled it — but felt structured differently. An energy particle of another classification.
He narrowed his sensory range, filtering external noise.
One… no. Two.
Then clearer.
Nine distinct clusters.
They moved as a formation.
Two absorbed mana directly from Arthur. The remaining seven shielded the ninth at the center, distributing what they gathered toward it in measured portions.
He continued walking without slowing, gaze forward, mind calculating.
Within Cellis, he found a similar structure,though only one — flame‑like in shape, sustaining itself. It fed on mana occasionally to strengthen, yet also produced mana as residue when reserves destabilized.
He turned his senses briefly toward himself.
The same single flame unlike the pup.
All were Self‑sustaining, yet each distinct in intensity.
The pup's flames were smaller — unstable, hungry for mana—the central core guarded by the eight outer clusters.This was a case he had yet to look into.
The image stirred a fragment of Paster's teachings in Arthur's memory — life force, or life mana as he called it, sometimes simply vitality depending on the context. Paster had never been willing to explain everything directly, preferring instead to cloak his meaning in puzzling words, even though the book had belonged to them equally.
They reached the upper courtyard.
The castle loomed ahead, its massive gates framed by carved reliefs of beasts intertwined with human figures.The human sheltered underneath a dragon's wing as the silver mane wolf, a colourful flame bird and a black turtle tucked under his protection.
"Here it is," Herold's voice carried from ahead. "The place with our answers."
Arthur's gaze remained steady.
He continued feeding the pup as they approached the gates, the life‑force clusters still shifting faintly beneath his perception.
Relief had brought them to the city.
Understanding, however, was only beginning.
>>>
They entered the chamber where the local lord awaited.
"Lord Furifur, how have you been?" Herold said with a faint smile before anyone else spoke.
"I am doing well," the lord replied. "But there is no need to add 'lord.' After all, I am only the humble governor of this place. Call me by my name."
The lord's gaze shifted toward the newcomers.
"Quinn."
"If you were truly humble," Herold added with a hint of mockery, "why mention that you are the governor? Is noble lineage alone not enough?"
"Where is Harin?" Herold asked after a pause.
"My daughter has gone out for a short vacation," Quinn replied. "Her enrollment was successful."
Quinn had understood Herold's provoking remarks. He did not fall for it. Instead, he allowed the irritation to circle back toward Herold himself, treating the exchange as one might indulge the impatience of a boy.
Arthur, however, was far more concerned about the pup in his hands.
"We are here to—"
"What do you think about the pup?" Herold interrupted, looking directly at Arthur.
Quinn stepped forward and took the pup from Arthur, an action Arthur instinctively allowed.
He examined the small creature for a moment, observing its breathing and the softness of its fur.
"I know well about beasts," he said calmly.
"But knowledge alone is not always the answer. For something this young, survival depends on its mother."
Quinn turned and began walking. Arthur followed.
The interior of the castle opened into wide halls and inner courtyards. Each city possessed its own grandeur, and the place stirred quiet awe within Cellis as she looked around. The scale of the stonework, the carved pillars, and the layered arches spoke of long effort and deliberate craftsmanship.
Arthur experienced it differently. Having rarely left his home before this journey, even the ordinary spaces of a city felt immense and unfamiliar to him.
Along the corridors stood carved figures and sculpted creatures—wolves with flowing manes, horned deer frozen mid‑leap, scaled reptiles curling around stone pillars, and birds whose wings were carved as if caught in flight—each worn slightly by time yet still crafted with remarkable detail. There were also beasts Arthur had never seen before, their shapes strange and unfamiliar.
"Are they not fine art?" Quinn said. "Many of these were made in this very city."
They continued deeper into the structure.
Several wolves moved calmly within the enclosure ahead. Most had brown‑grey fur and dark eyes. Some walked slowly across the open ground while others lay resting in the shade of the stone walls.
Arthur observed them carefully as they passed.
Then, deeper within the enclosure, a stronger presence appeared.
A large wolf lay in a sheltered space further inside. Its fur was completely dark, almost absorbing the light around it. A thin white line ran along its muzzle and stretched downward, thinning as it traced toward its abdomen.
At first the wolf's eyes were closed.
As the group approached, the wolf lifted its head slightly.
Its eyes opened.
A deep red gaze emerged, steady and silent as it watched the approaching humans.
Three small pups were already feeding beside her.
Even without movement, the wolf carried a commanding presence that caused the other wolves nearby to keep their distance.
Quinn slowed his steps as he approached.
Carefully, he knelt and placed the pup beside the others.
For a moment the mother wolf tensed. Her red eyes studied the unfamiliar scent, her body alert though she did not rise.
The pup shifted weakly, searching.
Then the wolf relaxed.
The pup found its place and began to feed.
Quinn quietly stepped back.
"It is better not to disturb nurturing wolves," he said.
After a brief pause he added,
"Especially when they belong to a pack as large as these Knightmanes."