On the road toward the first village in the south, the horses' hooves drummed rhythmically against the ground. The company moved at a steady pace, their conversation easing the tension of the march.
"I still remember," Anita began with a smile, "three years ago when we went to fetch Noelle from the orphanage. Back then you couldn't ride yet, Young Wolf, and you sat on the horse with me. Now both you and Noelle ride your own mounts with confidence."
"I was only eight then," Andras replied. "Now I'm eleven. But if Noelle and I weren't good mages, they still wouldn't have allowed us to learn riding."
Anita turned curiously to Andrea.
"How old were you when you started learning to ride?"
"Last year," Andrea answered. "I was twelve when I began, now I'm thirteen."
"It's a wonder they let Young Wolf and Noelle start at ten," Anita remarked. "But for being only eleven, you don't seem to have any trouble with the horse."
"That's because," Andras smiled, "we use water magic to make sure we don't fall off."
"Water magic? How does that work?" Anita asked incredulously.
"Why are slimes sticky?" Andras explained. "They cling to rocks. They use the water element too. Simple."
"So you're doing the same thing as slimes?" Anita raised her eyebrows.
"Exactly," Andras nodded. "I copied the slimes when I developed this magical technique for riding. With it, I wouldn't fall off even if the horse were upside down."
"That's cheating!" Anita laughed. "It's easy for mages!"
Noelle spoke up then, smiling but serious.
"It wasn't easy to master at first. While riding, you have to keep focusing your magic constantly. And besides, only water mages can learn this. Master Florian, for example, couldn't use it with the fire element."
"Right," Andras grinned. "With fire he'd only manage to roast his horse."
Noelle burst out laughing.
"Hahaha, that was a good one!"
The knights arrived from the south and halted before the inn at the edge of the village. The villagers stared open‑mouthed at the sight: fifty Wolf Knights at once, fully armed, with banners and armor—such a spectacle they had never seen. In the villages, it was common for no more than five or ten knights to patrol and ensure safety. Now, however, an entire host had marched in, a force that seemed overwhelming in their eyes.
The knights surrounded the inn with disciplined precision, sealing every exit from all directions. They stood so firmly that not even a mouse could have slipped away unnoticed. The villagers whispered among themselves, children peeking from behind their mothers' skirts at the gleaming swords and wolf‑crested shields.
The Young Wolf dismounted then. With a serious face he stepped to the inn's door, accompanied by Anita the Whirlwind and five chosen knights. The heavy wooden door creaked as they entered the dim interior.
Andrea and Noelle remained on their horses. Andrea, as the granddaughter of the Wolf Captain, assumed command whenever Andras and Anita were not present. Noelle, as the healing mage, always stayed to the rear, ready to intervene at once if needed.
Andras had deliberately divided the forces: in every situation balanced, so the unit would never be left without leadership or protection.
Thus the scene at the village's edge was set: armored knights encircling the inn, the Young Wolf and his escort inside, while Andrea and Noelle watched the surroundings with vigilant eyes. The villagers already knew: something great was about to unfold.
As they entered the inn, the breath of those inside seemed to stop at once. The villagers respected and feared the Wolf Knights, and now the presence of fifty armed men brought a chilling silence to the room.
The Young Wolf's eyes flashed as he scanned the drinking men with magical sight. At the last table he found what he was looking for: a man whose aura vibrated darkly. A bandit. He sat alone, clutching his cup, but the trembling of his hand betrayed him.
Andras walked slowly over and sat down across from him. He said nothing, only watched with calm confidence. The man's heart pounded—not from fear of the boy, but of the six knights surrounding the table, standing motionless with hands resting on their sword hilts. Yet the boy's presence confused him even more: how could an eleven‑year‑old sit before him with such composure, as if he were the hunter and the man the prey?
Sweat broke across the bandit's brow. He longed to flee, but with the knights encircling him there was no escape. At last he spoke, his voice trembling:
"Perhaps the noble knights have some business with me?"
Andras slowly lifted his gaze.
"The birds have been chirping that you are a bandit."
"I… I am not a bandit!" the man stammered, nearly broken by fear.
The bandit was certain his life was about to end. Andras gave a small, barely perceptible signal to the knights. A practiced maneuver: the knights drew their swords in unison, the metallic ring filling the inn's air.
The bandit turned pale, his eyes wide, feeling as though the weight of the world had fallen upon him. Among the Wolf Knights there was no mercy for liars.
The inn was frozen in silence. The bandit's eyes darted back and forth, the steel blades hemming him in like wolves around their prey. At last he broke, his voice shaking:
"W‑wait, m‑mercy! I will speak, I'll tell everything, just don't harm me!"
Andras leaned forward slowly, his gaze flashing cold.
"I don't want you. I want every damned bandit who dares to plunder in my lands. But you know what? I'm in a good mood today. If you tell me where your hideout is, you'll live. The rest of the bandits will die. Good deal, isn't it?"
"I'll tell you everything, just don't hurt me," the man stammered, drenched in sweat.
"Very well," Andras replied calmly. "I'm listening. Start chirping."
The bandit swallowed hard, then began to speak hurriedly:
"I was a bandit… but I'm not anymore. My friends were killed. A new gang… they appeared in the region not long ago. Beast‑men, wolves."
"So wolf‑type beastfolk," Andras noted. "Go on."
"Their leader is a young female. Very strong! She killed five of us on her own. She doesn't use a sword or any weapon. Her claws… they're very sharp. Huge claws, like they were made of stone. She wears no armor, yet blades don't pierce her. Her skin is as tough as armor."
Andras's eyes narrowed.
"Hmm… a beast‑woman using the earth element. If she's a wolf, then she must be from the Earth Wolf Clan. She coats her body with earth element, making her skin as hard as armor. She extends and strengthens her claws with earth magic. Her strikes could be as powerful as a griffin's. How many of these beastfolk are there?"
"About twenty… no more," the bandit whispered.
"What about your band?" Andras asked.
"They're all dead. Only I survived. I ran immediately. I was afraid… I didn't fight. Why would I? We had no chance. Our leader was strong, a big man. But that female beast crushed his head with a single blow. When I saw that, I knew I had to flee. If I stayed, I would have died anyway."
"So if I understand correctly, they've taken over your hideout as well?" Andras asked.
"Yes," the bandit nodded. "Our hideout is at the border, down south in the forest. A cave, well hidden. The entrance is at the waterfall, invisible from outside. But there's another entrance, for escape. It's camouflaged with bushes. So if one entrance is found, you can flee through the other. That's the one I used."
Andras leaned back slowly, his eyes flashing cold.
"I see. You've told me very useful things."