The town of Brackenwallow faded behind us, a cluster of rickety buildings sinking into the mist. We walked in silence, a strange, three-person procession. The demon king led the way, his bare feet silent on the muddy ground. Angus fluttered a few feet behind him, keeping a safe, respectful distance. I brought up the rear, my borrowed boots squelching with every step.
The silence was a relief, but it was also heavy, charged with all the things we weren't saying. The memory of the old woman, of the dock, of the searing light, hung between us, a ghost that neither of us was willing to acknowledge.
I know it's best not to dwell on these things - to spiral into despair and self pity. I survived as a hikkikomori-adjacent NEET long enough to figure that out. But I'm also worried the moment I let my guard down I'll open my mouth and say something utterly ridiculous. I feel like that's been a problem since I got here.
I'm not going to let this maniac break me. If I do, I'm going to break with style.
"So," I said, my voice a little too loud in the quiet of the swamp. "Sylverhaven. What's the plan? What's this thing I need there?" A thought strikes me. "Is it a different kind of loincloth? More stylish?"
He didn't even turn around. "Your attempts at wit are a plague upon my senses. Cease."
"That's not an answer." I say.
"And yet it is all you will receive." He replies. "You'll know the plan when we get there."
Angus flew closer to me, his wings a nervous flutter. "He's probably just trying to keep you on your toes! Sylverhaven is a city of learning! They have a huge library! Maybe he wants you to read a book!" [Books! So many books! 📚]
"I doubt he has any interest in my intellectual development," I said, my tone flat. "He's more likely to push me into a bog and laugh."
The demon king stopped so suddenly I almost walked into him. He turned, and the look in his eyes made me take an involuntary step back. It wasn't anger. It was something colder, more calculating. "A bog? You think I would waste a perfectly good bog on you? The rot would be an insult to the mud."
He seemed...
Genuinely offended by the suggestion. For some reason.
If it was a kind of humor, I apparently couldn't read it.
...But I don't really believe that's the case. I think he's actually offended by the idea of me being worth even a mud pit's resources.
"Don't bother getting offended. I don't plan on letting you dump me anywhere." I retorted, crossing my arms.
He studied me for a long moment, his head tilted. Then, a strange, almost thoughtful expression crossed his face. "You know," he said, his voice a low murmur, "I cannot stand a stubborn mortal." He started walking again. "It is like a stone in my shoe. Irritating. But it makes the eventual crushing of it all the more satisfying."
"You don't even wear shoes." I called after him.
I heard a faint, almost inaudible sigh. "Your capacity for observation rivals that of a common housefly."
"And your capacity for being an ass rivals that of...of. You." It wasn't my best comeback, but I was tired and my brain was still fuzzy.
He didn't respond. He just kept walking.
The path out of the swamp was a miserable, squelching affair. The ground was soft and treacherous, and the air was thick with the smell of decay. The trees grew closer together, their branches creating a dense canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight. The world turned a murky, monotonous green.
I stumbled, my foot sinking into a patch of mud. I would have fallen, but a hand shot out and grabbed my arm, steadying me. It was the demon king. He had moved without me even noticing, a blur of motion in the gloom. His grip was firm, a little too firm, and it sent a strange, jarring vibration through my entire body.
"Watch your step," he said, his tone flat and dismissive. He let go of my arm as if it had burned him. "I have no desire to be covered in filth rescuing you." He turned and continued walking, leaving me to catch my breath and stare at the spot where his hand had been.
Angus flew up to me, his wings a nervous flutter. "Are you okay? He's so fast!" [I almost didn't see him move! It was like...whoosh! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧]
...Those 'texts' of Angus' were meant to be secret communication, or special tips.
That's what he'd said when he started using them at first.
But he just....apparently he'd gotten addicted to using them even when there wasn't a reason to doing it.
Probably just so he had an excuse to use his emojis. I'm ninety percent sure of that.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice a little shaky. I pulled my arm free and started walking again, my boots sinking into the mud with every step."
He managed not to respond, though I could see his back flex from his annoyance. "The forest at the edge of this swamp is the domain of the Dryads. They are not a welcoming species. They are also not edible, so try to avoid provoking them."
"You think I'm going to go up to a tree person and start something?" I retorted, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. The day was already miserable enough without adding insult to injury.
"It is no more or less than fact." He looked back at me, a look of absolute disgust on his face. "You seem to find every way possible to make this journey as irritating as possible. I would not be surprised if you were to try and speak with them."
I scoffed. "I have more survival instincts than that."
"An astonishingly low bar, which you have yet to prove you are able to clear." He said, turning back to the path. "The Dryads do not speak, not as you understand it. They commune with the forest, and they protect it with a ferocity that belies their placid appearance. They are rooted, and they are ruthless."
"That's...good to know." I said, my mind already trying to picture what a 'ruthless' tree would even look like.
Ultimately, I can't really come up with a serious answer.