He had finished telling his tale between sobs and hiccups, no longer caring what anybody thought of him. No, that was lie. He was ashamed to look at Buck. And the lady. He stared at his legs splayed before him. He hadn’t bothered to get up. Probably didn’t have any strength left for it anyway.

When the room grew quiet, he heard a girl’s voice whisper desperately to her parents. “Mother! Father!  Make him take it back. Make him take back the curse”, before she started crying again. Ogette. She was Olvic’s daughter, and the prettiest girl in Runrick. She and Buck were also sweet on each other. Ah, so that’s why, he thought bemusedly. The hero had jumped in to protect his fair maiden. Classic Buck.

But he would never take back his words. Never!

As if on cue, Olvic’s voice boomed through the room. “Ya know how to do this proper, right m’lady? How to kill the beast and cleanse us of his curse?”

No, no, no. He wasn’t going let them get away that easily. This was all he had left. At least let them live on in fear. He was owed that much. “I’m not taking it back,” he said weakly, but knew everyone heard it just the same.

“There is nothing to take back, I’m afraid.” Luric looked up, and stared at the lady. There was a lightly mirthful expression on her face. “There is no curse here. Your kind can’t do that.”

What?

“Do you mean that, m’lady,” Priest Santr asked in a hopeful tone.

“It’s a popular misconception among the common people, but I assure you, Blighted can’t curse or infect other humans.”

The sound of relief he heard coming from the townsfolk cut him to the very core. So, he wouldn’t be granted even this tiny bit of vengeance. He lowered his head dejectedly and tried to tune out the merriment that followed the lady’s words. Everyone quieted down instantly, though, at what she said next.

“They can rip them to shreds, though.”

Luric blinked, not quite comprehending what she meant. The townspeople seemed equally confused.

“M’lady?”

But she wasn’t talking to them anymore. Instead she addressed the strange man standing next to Luric.

“So, what do you think, Mr. Visloc?”

Mr. Visloc shrugged. “I’d have to get a good look at his arsenal, but from what I’ve heard, it seems to be the usual. Claws. Fangs. Maybe a tail.” He then looked at him and smirked. “The boy got one hell of a thrashing before my very eyes, and I didn’t feel him turn. That’s always a good sign. It’ll be easier for him to learn control if he doesn’t change skin at the slightest provocation. Yeah, I can work with him.”

The lady brightened at that. “That’s wonderful!”

Wait, work with him?

“I don’t understand, m’lady.” Chief Slatrim came forward again.

Her smiled dimmed a little. “Of course, you don’t.” And then she did the last thing Luric expected to see. She extended her arm and called Luric to her in a kind, reassuring voice. “Come here, my child.”

Apparently he didn’t react fast enough, because the man picked him up by the scruff again and shoved him unceremoniously towards the lady. He stumbled and staggered his way to her, but stopped before he was within arm’s length of her.

He didn’t know how honest her invitation was. Either way, people like him weren’t supposed to get too close to a person of high status, blighted or not. But then she closed the distance herself, and placed a gentle hand on his head.

He froze at first. The only time he came in physical contact with somebody else these days was through a punch or a kick. He had forgotten what a caress felt like. For some reason, he felt like crying again. When she gave him an understanding look, the feeling got even stronger. She then reached around to lightly grab his shoulder so she could turn them both towards the townspeople that were staring at them, dumfounded.  

“Allow me to explain,” she started. “I am Duchess Berjeen Archvel, Blood of the King, and the founder and head of His Majesty’s Institute of Occult Science and Affairs. The decree you mention was issued by His Majesty on my behalf. Our objective is to find individuals of … his nature, and employ them."