"We encountered the Demon Hunter, sir—or rather, his spirit. What a tragic end, dying under a pitchfork. Elder, what are your thoughts on this?"

"Don’t be nervous, by the gods. Look, your sweat is almost soaking your beard. I’m not interested in justice; I only care about Thundergrass. Of course, I’d gladly save a group of wretched farmers while getting it."

"As the saying goes, ‘The righteous path is rugged.’ Justice needs support. Elder, the more you give, the further I’ll walk that path. Villagers will thank you for backing justice."

"Gold? Grain? Ah, I’m no commoner—just give me iron. Don’t be shy: two loads of weapons. I want the one with the red rope, and the one by the stairs."

"Don’t be too surprised. Though you hid them in the cellar, I dabble a bit in prophecy..."

Here, Aelina held the upper hand, chatting amiably with the Elder inside the house.

Meanwhile, a villager in tattered black cotton led Fro to find Bella. Along the way, Fro’s mind raced wildly. Meeting Bella would be awkward—he had no blood ties to this human girl. What was she thinking? Why seek her at all? What if they had nothing to say? What was Aelina’s purpose? What if her parents misunderstood?

It must be from Aelina hitting his head too hard yesterday. Fro shook his head, clearing the nonsense. He looked up—a familiar graywood tree. The third time he’d seen it. Could it be...? No. He’d been tricked by humans again!

Fro instantly drew his long sword. At the sharp *shink* of steel, the sallow-faced villager ahead jumped and turned. Fro’s expression darkened; he hated deception. Sword raised, he pressed, "Human! Speak—what’s your scheme? Or I’ll chop off your head."

"Sir Knight, spare me! The Elder said not to let the stinky brat—Bella—defile you," the villager stammered. "I’ll take you right away."

Intimidated, he broke into a trot, leading Fro past stone walls, through a charred courtyard gate, and stopped before a drafty woodshed where wind whistled.

"Sir Knight, be careful. Your soul shouldn’t be tainted by lowborn filth."

"Hmph." Fro kicked the door open. A small figure wrapped in rags sat up on the woodpile—Bella’s gaunt face wide-eyed with terror, her thin body shrinking back. Fro felt pity and stepped closer. Bella trembled harder. "Sir Knight, don’t come near. Bella will defile you."

Fro removed his helmet. The scars on his cheeks softened. He crouched before her and said gently, "No. Bella isn’t dirty at all."

"Sir Knight, careful—" the villager outside warned, pinching his nose.

"Get lost!" Fro roared over his shoulder. He knelt by Bella’s woodpile bed. Freckles dotted her face; her clear green eyes held innocent fear. She reminded him of his sister, bullied long ago—the day he’d punched those town thugs.

Bella looked up, puzzled and afraid. "You... don’t smell the stench on me?"

"Stench? No." The Elf shook his head.

"Really? They say I stink like a corpse." Her trembling slowed. "Only my sister never said that."

"They’re liars," Fro vowed. "Bella, is this your home?"

"No, no, no!" She shook her head, braids flying. "I have no home. I belong to the Elder’s family."

Fro spotted a glaring red mark on her bare calf through a tear in her skirt.

"Your leg? Were you beaten?"

Bella clutched the rags tighter—her blanket. "No, no, nothing! Just... the wood chafed me sleeping here."

"Why sleep on wood?"

Fear crept over her face. She lowered her head, silent. Fro understood. He gripped his sword hilt and strode toward the door, armor clanking. Bella peeked up—his tall Elf form looked majestic, like the knight from her sister’s tales who guarded princesses from demons.

"You! Get out!" Fro grabbed an eavesdropping villager and kicked his rear. The man in black cotton tumbled away, scrambling.

Fro sheathed his sword and returned to Bella’s shivering form.

"The Elder said I defiled you. So he beat me, made me sleep here to reflect. It hurts..." Bella whispered, not expecting help—just someone to listen.

She shivered from cold, not fear.

The Elf said nothing. He removed his ridiculous bee-patterned robe and wrapped it around her. It was all he could give.

"Up." Fro pulled firewood. "I’ll light a fire. If asked, say the long-eared knight fears cold."

He took out Aelina’s lighter—thumb rubbed the wheel, a flame sparked. Fire caught instantly, filling the drafty shed with warmth. Bella hugged the robe, stretching frostbitten hands toward the flames.

"Sir Knight," she said. "I heard you hunted the man-eating mad dogs outside?"

"Call me Fro." The Elf poked the fire. "Yesterday was fierce. We met a Wraith—a monster like a woman stoned to death. Without Aelina’s prep, I wouldn’t be here warming myself. That damned Elder—he’s vile."

The fire melted Bella’s frozen bones. She greedily soaked the heat; it had been ages since she felt warm.

"Brother Fro," she murmured. "Could Thundergrass help you?"

"Thundergrass?" Fro frowned. "I don’t know. Aelina needs it badly. She’s clever—if she gets it, who knows what weapons she’ll forge."

"Don’t tell the Elder." Bella stood, glanced around, cupped her hands to his ear. "I have some. I hope it helps you."

"Thundergrass? How?" Fro asked, surprised. "The Elder said the village has almost none left. Even if we kill all wild dogs, he’d give only ten stalks. If stolen, I won’t take it."

"No, not stolen—it’s mine! I picked a huge bag two days ago—this big!" She gestured wildly. "He promised a roasted chicken for a full bag. I hid some... so next time, I’d pick less. I’m scared of dogs biting me to death."

"Disgraceful!" Fro seethed. "Lies and using a child! I’ll confront him!"

"No, no, Brother Fro!" Bella grabbed his hand. "The Elder will trial me. I’ll be stoned like my sister."

"Stoned? What madness? It’s his fault!"

"Because... because," Bella clasped her hands. "We were sinners in past lives. Born tainted, we serve pure families to cleanse ourselves—to reach paradise. My sister tried to defile the Elder’s bloodline. They stoned her. Bella doesn’t want that."

"Defile the bloodline?" Fro found it absurd.

"The Elder’s son loved my sister..."

"Wait—he stoned her? Was she to be his wife?"

Bella shook her head. "My sister wasn’t greedy."

"Utterly absurd."

Fro paced the fire, rage cooling. He crouched, gripping Bella’s hand, pulling her up. "We find Aelina. She only wants Thundergrass—she gave half a cart of food just to ask about it. She’s smart and pure. She’ll save you."

"Aelina..." Bella whispered the Silverhaired Maiden’s name. "The beautiful witch?"

Her voice faded. A nameless worry—or faint jealousy—stirred in her small heart.

"Yes. We go now."

He doused the fire. Taking Bella’s hand, face grim, he marched toward the mustachioed Elder...

Meanwhile, the filthy deal inside neared its end.

The mustachioed Elder "generously" offered two weapon loads—so generous he patted his belly in pain. Men hauled them from the cellar: bamboo baskets crammed with rusty swords and spears. Aelina didn’t care. They weighed over eighty kilograms. With this iron, she’d build wonders to shock these primitive apes—a steam engine, perhaps. Time to awe them with mechanics.

Suddenly, thumping footsteps intruded. Aelina sensed trouble coming.

Two minutes later, Fro’s roar echoed outside. The door crashed open. Seeing the furious Golden Ape, Aelina felt the iron loads sprout wings and wave goodbye.

"Aelina, we take this girl!" Fro pointed to Bella behind him. "This lying pig abuses her!"

"No! Absolutely not!" The Elder’s reaction stunned Aelina. "Witch, take anything—but not Bella! Not a single hair!"

"You lying pig!" Fro drew his sword. "Think I won’t cut her free?"

"You defile our traditions!" The Elder’s face flushed, sword tip at his chest, mustache trembling. "Take Bella, and none of you leave this village!"

Outside, pitchforks rose.

Things had gone badly... as expected.

Activate Plan B.