Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 167

XXVII.

The gentle rumbling of the wagon had caused Typhon to doze off.

When he awoke it was light out, and El was asleep.

Brimming with excitement, he peered out through the fluttering canvas and saw the edge of a forest ahead, the only road through blocked off by a row of barricades and turbaned Ishtari soldiers on horseback, holding up red banners.

El poked her head out beside him, looking unnerved by the sight.

“It’s an army checkpoint,” Typhon told her. “Don’t worry, they’re the good guys.”

A soldier rode out on his horse to greet the wagon’s driver, and escort him the rest of the way to the barricade. There, another group of soldiers was waiting to inspect the trade goods it was transporting, before letting it continue on its way.

It was a pleasant, sunny day. Birds were chirping, and the air was fragrant. It was all very nostalgic, for Typhon.

And in a way, it was nostalgic for El as well, being surrounded by greenery again.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to my friends,” Typhon said, as she kept staring out at the trees.

Along the final stretch of the road leading into Bethel, however, the up until that point picturesque wooded surroundings suddenly took a grisly turn.

El let out a shriek when she first saw one, cowering against Typhon and pointing at it.

Interspersed amid the trees and brushes, the heads of various animals were mounted on spikes, placed at either side of the road. Some looked like they’d just been put up yesterday, still fresh if not swarming with flies, while others were completely decomposed, rotted away, leaving only bone.

Typhon was unfazed by the macabre fixtures. “It’s only to keep wild predators at bay.”

El glowered at him. “Is this really the kind of place you’re taking me?”

Just as she had posed the question, they passed by a spike with a human head mounted upon it — a man’s head, with rotted out eyes, the mouth frozen open in eternal agony, with a withered tongue that had been partially chewed away over time by scavengers.

Typhon held unto El. “There’s nowhere safer in all the world than here,” he said. Trust me.”

Yet El bit her lip, unconvinced.

“Is this really the kind of place you’re taking me?”

Just as she had posed the question, they passed by a spike with a human head mounted upon it — a man’s head, with rotted out eyes, the mouth frozen open in eternal agony, with a withered tongue partially chewed away at over time by scavengers.

El briefly thought about jumping out of the wagon, and running back the way they had come, but Typhon touched her hand.

“I know it looks bad.”

“But trust me, we’ll be safe here.”

The town center was barren that time of day, when most were working.

From his balcony, Frogman saw Typhon jump out the back of what he’d assumed to be just a regular supply wagon, waving, and after a brief startle he smiled and waved back.

“Typhon, my boy!” He exclaimed. “Look how you’ve grown!”

But when El emerged shortly after, hood drawn, his smile abruptly faded.

El saw this abrupt change in demeanor as she looked to him, then turned back to Typhon. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Frogman,” Typhon replied. “He’s the foreman, in charge here — always has been.”

A name most befitting, El thought, while examining him more closely — he was squat and fat, with warts covering his doughy, hairless face, and bore an ugly, overzealous toothless smile.

He leaned over the railing of his balcony, gesturing rapidly at Typhon.

“Come inside,” he said. “I’ll have my wife cook us something.”

“And please — bring your friend.”

Typhon ran over to El, pulling her out from hiding behind the wagon.

El felt an immediate revulsion toward Frogman. Still, seeing how happy Typhon was, she couldn’t bring herself to protest.

XXVIII.

Jed was laying in a treehouse overlooking a river, deep in the heart of the woods far outside of town. What had originally started its life as a small playhouse Frogman had put up for the children to use, over the years Jed had gradually built upon by himself, then later with help from Bridgette, until it was good enough to call his permanent home…even if it didn’t look all that pretty — like a jagged tumor stuck in the branches.

There was a cool breeze coming in through the open window when he arose that morning.

First thing he noticed was Bridgette was gone, even though she’d spent the night. What a girl, he thought to himself with a smirk. Even after getting mauled by a bear, she still went to work.

And now, she wants to raise a bear. He frozed.

Jed froze, in realization — that’s right, the bear cub! The one she’d put in his care!

It was then that he became aware of a scratching noise, and petty muffled cries coming from within a locked chest he kept in the house.

Jed stumbled over and flung open the chest, retching at the stench of urine and feces.

“Damn it,” Jed said, coughing.

The bear cub was standing up inside the chest, peering up at him innocently.

Jed shook his head, sighing. “Don’t worry about a thing, bear. I’ll just go ahead clean that up for you…”

He took the tainted chest and the bear cub with him to the bank of the river.

There, he tied the cub up to the tree, with some spare rope he had lying around, disregarding its growls in protest.

“You — stay quiet!” Jed ordered, wagging his finger at it. “I have to catch us some breakfast.”

He pulled off his shirt then waded out into the rush of the river, initially gasping at the coldness, to a clear spot past the tall reeds where the waters reached as high as his waist.

Packs of tiny silver bream moved around him, tickling at the touch. Taunting him.

Jed hovered his hands over the water, until he saw a glimmer of one, and —

“Damn it!” He cursed, its glossy body slipping out of his grasp.

Jed never fished with a line — when it could be helped, he’d rather not be tested on his patience. His philosophy was that he would rather try and fail a hundred times with his bare hands, than to sit for an hour without a single wiggle on a line — even if the wait ultimately lead to a more likely catch.

During his repeated failed attempts, he kept glancing back at the shore to check on the bear, still carrying on with its complaints.

After a while, it started to twist and nibble at its makeshift leash.

“Hey, you!” Jed yelled at it, flailing his arms. “Stop that!”

But the cub didn’t listen. With enough effort, it eventually managed to wriggle loose, and set off bumbling away, back into the woods.

Groaning, Jed hurried after it barefoot, bare-chested and dripping wet.

He ran through the woods, calling out to it — “Bear!” But couldn’t find the cub anywhere.

He sifted through bushes speckled with bright pink berries.

He turned over every log, every stone, and every old gnarled tree root.

He began to panic, fearing Bridgette would never sleep with him again over this.

If something happens to that stupid bear, she’ll never forgive me!

When at last he decided to climb up into his treehouse for a better view of the area, he was surprised to find Bridgette there.

“Looking for someone?” She asked, grinning.

The cub was cradled in her arms, blissfully munching on some berries she’d brought.

Jed groaned, crossing his arms to hide the fact that he was shivering.

“I had him tied to a tree while I was fishing, but I guess I’ll need a stronger rope next time!”

Bridgette suppressed a laugh — she’d had a sense that something would go wrong on Jed’s first day alone with the cub.

“While I was passing through town,” she said, “I hear Typhon just got back.”

Jed flinched, dumbfounded. “Huh?” He thought she was joking.

XXIX.

Trophies of beasts that Frogman hunted in his prime adorned the walls of his house. El did not like them one bit, with their beady, unblinking little false eyes. that seemed to follow you all around the room, and their frozen, snarling visages.

Where she sat at the small dining table, a giggling fox’s head was staring back at her.

It churned her stomach even worse than the charred bits of cooked meat being served, by an unnamed woman buzzing wordlessly back and forth from the kitchen.

El watched the way the other two ate — as per old Ishtari custom, the meat was served upon slices of bread rather than plates, to be eaten with the fingers. And the lentil soup, served on the side, was to be scooped up with torn-off bits of bread dipped into it, then eaten, instead of using spoons.

Typhon was seated beside her, telling Frogman stories about his time as a mercenary between mouthfuls.

Frogman sat to El’s other side, listening intently, occasionally sneaking her a glance.

“So, who is this nice young lady?” Frogman asked, interrupting Typhon while he was in the middle of telling about a time one of the mercs taught a pig how to dance.

Typhon gawked, realizing his faux pas. “Right, I never introduced–”

“I notice you’ve been staring at me this whole time,” El interrupted, fidgeting in her seat.

She thought she glimpsed a sinister sparkle in Frogman’s eye.

“Now that you mention it,” he said, in a low voice. Then without warning, he reached across the table — to wipe her mouth, with a piece of napkin!

“Here it is!” He said, drawing back with the napkin in hand, beaming. “I’ve got your frown!”

El huffed, then glared at Typhon expectantly.

Typhon shrugged. “He’s been pulling that old trick since forever.”

Frogman was rolling in his chair with laughter, as Edelweiss continued to watch him warily.

“El,” she said, locking her gaze unto his. “My name…is El.”

Frogman calmed. “My, what a lovely name,” he said. He turned to Typhon, squinting and grinning. “My boy, could it be that this lovely girl and you are–”

“Yes,” El said sharply, prompting them both to look at her as she forced down her first bite of food. She knew for certain now she did not feel comfortable around Frogman, about as much as she didn’t care for the food, but nevertheless she would still play nice for Typhon’s sake.

Yet Typhon could tell something was bothering El, and he was starting to worry.

After lunch, Typhon took El with him along a trail leading from the village.

“It’s been so long,” Typhon said, gazing wistfully around at the trees, the toppled mossy-covered logs and butterfly topped flowers along the way.

El wasn’t impressed — this was all nothing compared to the sights of her garden home.

They kept walking, in silence, until the trail ended at a small vale of flowers that blew like ripples in a pond with every breeze. At the center of the clearing there sat a small, quaint cottage nestled partially in the shade of a fruit tree.

“There it is,” Typhon said, a twinkle in his eye. “I lived here until mom got sick…and she…”

In that moment, he couldn’t contain it any longer.

Typhon trailed off, breaking out into heavy, unfiltered sobs.

El, her eyes wide at this sudden intense reaction, awkwardly wrapped her arms around him.

“Typhon…” She wanted to say something to comfort him, but wasn’t sure what.

So, she moved her hand toward his shoulder to comfort him, when all at once he completely threw himself into her arms, burying his face into her chest with panicked sobs.

“Please don’t leave, El!” He whined.

“I know I’m the one that’s supposed to be looking after you…but just promise me…”

Now you’re all I have left in this world! So please don’t leave me here alone!

“Don’t be silly,” El said, holding back her own tears now. “I’ve come with you this far, haven’t I?”

Typhon knew this. Deep down he knew that she would be fine no matter their living conditions, as long as they were together.

This bond they’d formed in such a short time…he didn’t know what it was. What to call it.

All he knew was that he couldn’t bear to go on without it.