“Squeak?”
The sharp voice jolted the otter awake first thing in the morning. He poked just his head out of his newly completed home — finished in the early hours before dawn — and looked up at whoever was speaking. Rutilian let out a low sigh at the sight of the otter peering up at him with a perfectly innocent expression, then stepped around the pitiful little structure and headed toward the training ground.
The otter scrambled out of his house and scurried after him.
“Squeeeak!”
Come with me!
He’d been up until just before dawn hauling branches and building his house in exactly the spot he wanted, so he was running low on sleep — but that was no reason to forget why he’d come all this way.
Today, no matter what, I’m closing the distance between me and Rutilian. At the very least, we need to be on hello-in-the-morning terms before anything else can happen.
The sleep-clouded eyes shifted in an instant to eyes burning with determination. The otter picked up his pace and caught up to Rutilian — who, aware that the otter was following but looking straight ahead, suddenly stopped walking without warning. The otter walked face-first into his solid calf and whimpered in pain.
“Squeak… squeak….”
“Hey.”
“Squeeeak!”
Why did you stop all of a sudden!
This wasn’t exactly what I meant by closing the distance! His face throbbed where it had collided.
“Why are you following me? Haah…. How many times do I have to say this? Don’t follow me.”
The sharp voice made the otter shrink — but after a moment’s hesitation, he answered back.
“Squeeeak! Squeak!”
I’m not following you, okay? I have somewhere to be!
Rutilian looked down at the otter talking back at him with what was clearly irritation, then stopped moving entirely and stood there — as if daring him to go ahead and prove it. The otter stared up at Rutilian for a moment, then awkwardly set off on all fours.
Pride demanded he keep walking, but of course he had nowhere to go. He snuck a glance behind him — Rutilian had even crossed his arms now, watching him. The otter met his gaze, quickly looked away, and kept walking forward with all the nonchalance he could fake.
“Haah….”
Rutilian watched the otter’s retreating figure — that plump little backside and long tail swishing awkwardly as he waddled along — and let out a hollow laugh.
The creature’s very existence was suspicious and irritating. And yet, for some reason, his eyes kept following it. Not that he had any intention of keeping it around. Ignore it long enough and it’ll naturally wander off. Rutilian turned and headed back toward the training ground.
Having just barely salvaged his pride, the otter wandered aimlessly until the rich, warm scent of butter led him to a door. The smell of food drifting through it sent him into a state of barely contained excitement. He was pacing in front of it when the door suddenly swung open. He looked up to find women in aprons who appeared to be maids.
“Oh my! You startled me.”
“Squeak!”
The maids yelped in surprise at the sight of the otter. He took a step back to calm them down, then patted his stomach insistently with both paws, making his request perfectly clear. Seeing that, one of the maids let her last trace of wariness fall away and smiled.
“Are you hungry?”
“Squeeeak!”
“Come in, then.”
“Squeak!”
Delighted by the first genuinely warm reception he’d received in a while, the otter trotted happily after the maids inside. His guess had been right. The sight of all that food being prepared, filling the air with layer after layer of incredible smells, nearly made him drool on the spot. Several people were bustling about cooking in the large kitchen.
It must be nearly breakfast time. Probably food for the Therianthrope Knights, given where the kitchen is.
“Here you go. All the meat’s been seasoned already, so I’m afraid it’s fish only.”
“Squeeeak…!”
Even better, actually…!
But that soaring feeling crashed the instant he looked at the plate the maid had set in front of him. He’d naturally assumed it would be grilled fish — but a plump, raw fish was staring right back up at him.
“Squeak…. Squeeeak….”
The otter shook his head side to side, carefully picked up the plate with both paws, and held it back out to the maid. Flustered by this, the maid took the plate and stood there not knowing quite what to do.
“Squeak…. Squeak…?”
I know it’s shameless of me to ask, but… could you cook it for me…?
“Oh — you don’t eat raw fish….”
This again. If communication broke down here, there was a high chance he’d end up going hungry. The otter thought hard, scanning the room — then stood up on his hind legs and pointed with one paw toward the large furnace built into the kitchen wall. The maid followed his gesture to the furnace, and a look of realization crossed her face.
“You want it cooked?”
“Squeeeak!”
Yes, exactly!
Working in the royal palace clearly sharpened one’s intuition. The otter watched the maid’s back contentedly as she began grilling the fish, then settled himself into a corner and waited patiently. The smell of grilling fish spread through the large kitchen almost instantly.
“There you go.”
“Squeak!”
The fish was grilled to a perfect golden brown, wisps of steam still rising from it. His mouth flooded with saliva. He gave the maid who’d set down the plate a proper bow of his head in thanks.
“Squeak!”
“Oh my, aren’t you a clever one.”
Then he tapped the fish gently with one paw to check the temperature. Seemed like it had cooled to just the right point.
“Nom nom nom!”
The otter deftly used both front paws to pick the flesh off the bones and stuffed it into his mouth in one go. It was rich and clean on the palate — so good it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He was aware of the kitchen staff stealing glances at him from all sides, but filling his empty stomach came first.
“Nom nom.”
He picked every last scrap of flesh off the bones with practiced efficiency, wiped his paws on a mystery scrap of cloth lying on the kitchen floor, and made his exit.
He’d thought about exploring the royal castle, but in the end his feet carried him to the training ground. The closer he got, the louder the sharp ring of clashing blades and the shouts of exertion grew.
“Squeak!”
Rutilian!
The wide training ground was a mix of Knights swinging wooden swords and others sparring with live blades. The rawness of it all made them look less like Knights and more like something wilder. Rutilian was among them. The moment the otter spotted Rutilian’s profile mid-spar with a live blade, he broke into a run.
Rutilian’s sparring partner was Pumice. Quite a few Knights had gathered to watch the two of them go at it. The otter squeezed in between them and claimed a spot, joining the audience. He stared, completely transfixed, at Rutilian swinging his sword with total focus, the hair at his temples damp with sweat. Getting to watch Rutilian like this, this close up — maybe transmigrating into a web novel isn’t so bad after all.
“Squeak!”
Win!
The involuntary, chick-like little cry drew every Knight’s gaze to the otter for a split second — including Rutilian’s.
“Squeak!”
The otter pointed a paw at Pumice and squeaked urgently at Rutilian to focus. Rutilian glanced down at the otter, exhaled shortly, then landed a clean strike on Pumice. A ripple of murmuring ran through the crowd as Pumice’s sword hit the ground — his concession of defeat.
“I thought he’d let his guard down. Turns out I was the one who did. Haha.”
He really does laugh a lot. Even though just moments ago he’d had a sword at his throat, he was this cheerful about it. The otter thought that in some ways, Pumice was really quite remarkable.
The sparring seemed to be winding down, so the otter got up and began edging toward Rutilian. Rutilian, already anticipating what the otter was up to, sheathed his sword and looked over with clear irritation — and the otter smoothly redirected his steps toward Pumice instead. He’s got his sword. Not a good time.
“Hey, beaver. Nobody told you to build a house at the barracks entrance. I got an earful because of you.”
“Squeak….”
This isn’t going to work either. Pumice was wearing an expression the otter had never seen on him before — fiercely displeased. The otter casually turned to look for somewhere to sit instead — and suddenly felt his body leave the ground.
“Squeak? Squeeeak!”
What? Let me go!
Grabbed by the scruff of the neck in an instant and dangling in midair, the otter began flailing frantically.
“Some beaver you are — can’t even build a decent house, and the placement was terrible on top of that. What exactly are you, anyway?”
“Squeak!”
The otter bared his fangs and cried out sharply in indignation, but Pumice’s reaction was utterly unmoved.
“What do you mean, beaver? It’s not a beaver.”
“Not a beaver? Then what is it?”
“Isn’t it a weasel?”
A man who had appeared beside Pumice cleared the otter of one false accusation — only for a new one to be slapped on him within three seconds.
“Squeeeak!”
Let me go!
That aside, just dangling in midair was unsettling enough on its own. He wriggled and squirmed trying to free himself from Pumice’s grip, but Pumice just kept holding him by the scruff and chatting away with his fellow Knights. Birds of a feather — Rutilian and Pumice were exactly the same in the way they both let his protests go in one ear and straight out the other.
