The doors to the Hall of Elders opened with a heavy, scraping groan—like old stone forced awake from centuries of slumber.
Erry wasn't intimidated. He had seen worse: wyverns diving from storm clouds, corrupted ogres rising from ravines, and the cold stare of mercenaries twice his size. But this silence… This kind of silence was new. It was the kind that pressed down from every direction, like the air itself was watching him.
Two beastman guards flanked him, both from the Lupine race, judging by their tall frames, keen ears, and stoic expressions. They didn't cuff him, but their presence alone was more than enough of a restraint.
Erry entered the hall.
A long crescent table dominated the chamber, carved from darkwood that glistened with oils and age. On it, ten chairs—each occupied by faces that varied between stern, curious, or outright hostile. Tail swishes, ear flicks, claw-tapping… it all layered into a symphony of restless judgment.
Beastmen.
All of them.
All watching him.
Erry's expression didn't shift. Eyes forward, steps confident, posture relaxed in a controlled, respectful way. It wasn't fearlessness—it was discipline.
He reached the center of the room.
And then the elder at the highest seat spoke.
He looked to be in his late seventies by human reckoning, though beastman aging was notoriously confusing. His hair was white and carried faint stripes, and three long tails—thin, elegant, and slow-moving—extended behind him. His eyes were molten gold, sharp enough to peel a man's lies straight from his bones.
"Welcome, Erry Tobock," the elder said. "I am Elder Towal. Highest seat of the Felinte Dominion, and authority above the royal bloodline."
Erry inclined his head. "An honor, Elder. I was told you wished to speak with me."
"You were summoned," corrected another elder—an Ursine female, massive, arms crossed like boulders stacked on each other. "Do not pretend you came willingly."
Erry didn't rise to the provocation. He merely answered, "I go where needed."
Murmurs rippled.
Elder Towal lifted one hand, and all noise died instantly.
There was power here. Not the violent, explosive kind Erry used on the battlefield—but the heavy, political kind that shaped kingdoms.
"Sit," Elder Towal ordered.
A single chair was placed behind Erry. A gesture, symbolic. A position lower, separated, but acknowledged.
Erry sat.
The inquiry began.
"We will begin with context," Elder Towal said. "You must understand the enormity of what your presence means."
Erry didn't answer; he simply listened.
"The war between humans and beastmen did not begin with blades," Towal continued. "But with land."
A map unrolled magically across the table—an illusion of glowing threads creating mountains and valleys.
Towal pointed to one region.
Highlands of Stormveil.
Erry's brows lifted.
Of course. That cursed region.
"The Highlands," Towal said, "are sacred to us. A cradle of our earliest tribes. A birthplace of our spiritual rites. But to humans…" His eyes sharpened. "They are minerals. Nothing more."
Erry didn't deny it. Human kingdoms did value it for industrial expansion.
Another elder—a Lupine male—snarled softly. "Humans drill into the bones of the earth without permission, then act affronted when the mountain spirits rage."
Elder Towal continued, "While beastmen wish to protect nature and preserve lands, humans desire growth, steel, and economy."
Erry sighed silently. The Lupine elder wasn't wrong—but not entirely right either.
Towal flicked his three tails. "What is your opinion?"
Erry chose his words carefully.
"Both sides want to survive," he said. "But survival means different things depending on where you're born."
A pause.
Towal smiled—not kindly, but knowingly.
"Honest. Refreshingly so."
The illusion shifted, revealing two diagrams: one representing human monarchies, the other beastman dominion hierarchy.
"Humans," Towal explained, "favor expansion. Their kings rule by lineage, their nobles by influence. Territory defines power."
The beastman side appeared: symbols of clans, tribes, matriarch councils.
"We beastmen," Towal said, "do not expand. We defend. Our territories are inherited through tradition and nature, not conquest."
The Canine elder bark-laughed. "Humans build walls and call it civilization."
Erry raised a brow. "I'm not a scholar of politics, but… humans build walls because other humans invade them too."
The room paused.
It wasn't the answer they expected.
But it made sense.
Towal chuckled softly. "Very well. Let us move to culture."
Illusions shifted again.
"Beastmen believe humans are deceitful," Towal said.
"And humans believe beastmen are barbaric," Erry replied bluntly.
Every tail in the room stiffened.
But once again, he wasn't wrong.
Towal leaned back, finally pleased. "Good. You understand reality without sugarcoating it."
The illusion dissolved and reappeared as four large emblems.
Elder Towal gestured at each.
1. Feleris — The Cat Clan
Royal blood.
Swift, diplomatic, perceptive.
Trained to read emotions from scent and body heat.
Culture: Matriarchal. Women hold political dominance.
Erry felt a twitch at that—explained a lot about Lyra's bearing even in panic.
2. Canine — The Wild Dog Clans
Loyal.
Unyielding in close combat.
Hold deep resentment for humans because of border skirmishes.
Erry had clashed with them before. Brutal fighters.
3. Lupine — The Wolf Kin
Strategists.
Master hunters.
Affected by moon cycles, temperamental but effective in warfare.
Erry understood them the least—and respected them the most.
4. Ursine — The Bear Folk
Slow, physically overwhelming.
Steadfast guardians.
The backbone of beastman territory defenses.
Towal continued as if nothing happened.
"You will accept our proposal, Erry Tobock. Not because you desire it—but because our dominion desires change."
Erry narrowed his eyes. "Change?"
Towal nodded.
"The old hatreds must break somewhere. You may be the first crack."
The room fell into silence again.
Towal's final words echoed with ancient authority.
Erry's heart sank.
Erry stood slowly. His voice low, calm, deceptively neutral.
"…And? What happens to her now?"
Towal opened one eye.
"She lives. Thanks to you."
For the first time, something in Erry's chest tightened.
Relief?
No—just human empathy.
He told himself that.
Towal's expression shifted, growing serious.
"You know why you are here, human Erry."
Erry looked steadily back at him.
"…To wait for your judgment."
Towal smirked.
"Not quite."
He raised a clawed finger.
"In our laws, no human may wed a beastman unless they prove their worth."
Illusions appeared again—duels, battles, ceremonies dripping with ancient pride.
"A duel of honor. Or saving the life of royalty."
Towal's eyes darkened.
"You did the latter."
Erry went still.
He hadn't thought of it that way. He never cared for such things. To him, saving Lyra was an accidental consequence of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Erry's jaw tightened.
"I didn't intend to save anyone."
"That matters little," the Ursine elder snapped. "You protected Lyra de Ulfo Feleris. That alone places us in your debt."
"Sit."
Towal didn't raise his voice.
Yet the command hit like a weight.
Erry sat.
His hand twitched, missing the familiar weight of his sword. Towal continued.
"To beastmen, humans are physically inferior.
If a human marries a beastman, they become the lesser partner… cherished, but not respected."
Erry didn't flinch.
He didn't care for respect.
He cared for his freedom.
"But you," Towal said quietly, "are not inferior. You struck down an entire bandit group alone. Your sword. Your strength. Your presence."
Towal leaned in.
"You made us owe you."
Erry's jaw tightened.
He hated being indebted—or having others indebted to him.
The elder council, the entire dominion…
He did not want this.
Towal's voice dropped to a commanding whisper.
"And debts must be repaid."
Towal glanced to the other elders, then back to Erry.
"We will keep your battle a secret.
We cannot let the dominion know a human saved a princess—it would shake tradition and ignite political chaos."
Erry expected that.
To them, admitting a human's value was… taboo.
Towal added.
"But internally, we acknowledge it. That is why we consider you eligible."
Eligible for what?
Erry already had a bad feeling.
Towal inhaled deeply.
"Human Erry. You will accept our gratitude."
Erry's eyes narrowed.
"…What gratitude?"
Towal's next words struck like thunder. Towal's next words carried a weight that made every elder straighten.
"Marry Lyra," Elder Towal said. "Become her bondmate."
The chamber went silent.
Erry didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He barely breathed.
Towal's voice deepened:
"This marriage will settle our debt to you.
And it will be the first step toward changing the future of our people."
Erry stared at Towal, his expression unreadable.
He saved a girl.
A stranger.
A beastman he didn't even care about.
And now they wanted—no, demanded—he accept a future he never asked for.
Towal's three tails lifted behind him.
"You have no right to refuse."
Erry's fists tightened.
Erry closed his eyes.
Damn it. This was going to get complicated.