Love Crafted - Chapter 62

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Abigail did the finger-waggle thing at you, so you know she was serious when she said that the bandits should at least have underwear and socks for the trip back to town. That’s why the long row of mostly naked men trailing out behind you in single-file are not completely-naked men instead.

You, of course, are in the lead, with Abigail and Wuffles and the others too.

Abigail isn’t very good at the whole walking through a forest thing, which is strange. You’re better at it than her and you only had legs for a few days now.

“Are you sure they won’t try to run away?” Abigail asks as she looks over her shoulder to all the bandits behind.

“Nah,” you say. “I’m keeping some eyes on them.”

Sometimes when the bandits turn their heads around fast enough they catch a glimpse of your eyetacles before they slink into the shadows. They usually shiver a lot after that, or start muttering things until another bandit tells them to shut up.

For a bunch of ruffians they’re very well behaved. They only tried to run away once.

You’re thinking of asking Wuffles for a ride when you hear Daphne and Everette talking up ahead just out of Abigail’s hearing range. The girl is talking to the boy in quick whispers that sound rather heated and Everette is shrinking back and away from her. Or he’s trying, but Daphne has a white-knuckled grip on his arm.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about the Inquisitors, I don’t care about the law, and I certainly don’t care about your jumped up sense of self-righteous morality. All I do care about is Abigail and making damned sure that she’s happy. Fortunately, Dreamer and I agree on that.”

“Yeah, but, you saw it, didn’t you?” Everette asks.

“Of course I did. Do you take me for a fool? Dreamer might look like a girl but she’s the farthest thing from it. Why do you think the Inquisition outlaws speak of gods and the like?”

“Because that’s heresy?” he tries. “There’s no such thing?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “And if there was, what could a god do? You’ve had the basics of a scientific education drilled into you, haven’t you? If a god did exist, what would the signs of its existence be?”

“I, I don’t know?” Everette said. “Unexplainable things?”

“Good, now in the context of what you know of magic, could you explain even a tenth of what Dreamer does with no obvious effort?”

“Are you saying she’s… it’s a god?” he whispers back. A look over his shoulder has him blanching as he catches your eye.

You wave.

“I’m saying that it doesn’t matter what she is. She’s snuck into the Inquisition’s headquarters and there wasn’t a damned thing they could do about it just because she felt like it. Dreamer could turn FivePeaks into a crater at a whim. For some reason she cares about Abigail and listens to her. So right here and right now you are going to listen to me.”

“I have to report this,” he says.

“If you do that what will they do? Try to seperate Dreamer from Abigail? She would tear through the Inquisition like a rabid wolf in a sheep’s pen. Would they hurt Abigail? Dreamer can open portals into outer space. I’m quite certain the only reason they don’t bleed out our atmosphere is because she knows that Abigail needs to breathe. Dreamer could kill every last human on the continent, I’m certain of it, and she would eat us all if it wasn’t for Abigail. So what you’re going to do, is shut that stupid mouth of yours before it flaps and we all end up dead because you couldn’t keep a secret.”

Everette is quiet for a while. “Fine,” he finally says. “She hasn’t done bad by me yet, nor has Abigail. But if they cross the line I’m doing what I need to do. How are you going to keep the bandits quiet?”

“They’re a bunch of peasants, who will believe them? If you hurt Abigail you’re a dead man, whether Dreamer gets to you before me is up to blind luck,” Daphne growls before slowing down. A moment or two later she’s walking next to Abigail who catches up to her. “Hey Abi, how are you?” she asks with a big smile.

“I’m well?” Abigail says.

You grin. Daphne is a good friend, which is good. Abigail needs all the friends she can get. They’ll help her do stuff she doesn’t feel like doing once you instal her as queen or whatever the highest position is with all the mortals.

Your group travels along with a lot of happy chatter. Not from the bandits though, they mostly complain and grumble about their socks getting wet and how it’s not fair that you ate their leader and stuff. It’s their fault for being a mild inconvenience to Abigail in the first place, so you don’t feel bad about it.

And then you arrive in town and Skinner is waiting for you with Sigmund on one shoulder and a pair of men with weird wide-brimmed hats next to him.

“Welcome back,” he says. “It’s good to see you’re all safe and sound. Did you find some friends in the wilderness?”

“They’re bandits,” Charlotte says with a big happy smile. She now has some shoulder armour that she got as loot, and a big sack off of other things she thought might be worth selling. The rest of the stuff, of course, is all digesting in your tummy.

“I see,” Skinner says. He gestures to the two men who look a bit confused. “I was just talking to the constables here about forming a search party. I’m glad to see that won’t be necessary. I trust you can handle all of these fine gentlemanly bandits? We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Um, yes sir,” Abigail says.