"What the…"
Nyell sucked in a deep breath, his eyes wide open as he exited the narrow passageway. He instinctively tightened his grip on Allen's hand, having forgotten he was still holding onto it. His mind was racing, trying to process what he was seeing. The scenery before him defied everything he could have ever imagined, so much so that he was left speechless. This place, which wasn't even that far from his tribe, seemed to have emerged from another world entirely. He could not quite describe what lay before his eyes, much less explain how he felt: he was too overwhelmed, and his brain seemed to have shut down.
On this side of the mountain range, cliffs enclosed a drainage basin in a crescent-moon shape, and the edges, which had been eroded over time, declined into the water, opening on the sea. It allowed the onlooker to catch a glimpse of the water that stretched as far as the eyes could see, fading in the horizon. Boats of all sizes were anchored on the shore, some so large that Nyell thought they were beasts. He was only familiar with canoes, and he couldn't comprehend how those things could float on water. In his mind, they should be sinking. And yet, that wasn't what astonished him the most. He was left mesmerized by the countless carved houses into the mountain he had just emerged from. Windows and wooden doors cohabited with columns and pillars, as well as intricate murals. Shells, ropes, and colorful pebbles hung onto the facades coated in white.
Meanwhile, numerous paved roads zigzagged throughout the settlement, which was layered in terraces. Some were narrow, others were wide enough to allow horses and carriages to pass through. The latest seemed to be the main axes, crossing the mountain up and down and left and right. They linked the highest house to the harbor and both the beginnings and ends of the settlement from east to west. It then faded into dirt roads toward the edges.
People, whose clothes were similar to Allen's, were navigating this maze with ease, and children were running around, jumping from roof to roof or roof to road. Laughter and chatting noise resounded throughout the tribe, and when Nyell lowered his eyes to the shore, he saw beings of all races conducting exchanges. It was a peaceful scene that left him baffled. He had never seen so many species interacting with each other before, and certainly not so peacefully. For a moment, he could not help but wonder if this place could be called a 'tribe', for it looked like the towns he had only heard of in legends. It was far too different from what he had seen in previous tribes. Although every tribe had its own way of living, there were always similarities. But this place? It had nothing in common with the usual werewolf tribe.
"Welcome to the White Moon tribe," Allen chuckled, gently caressing Nyell's hand with his thumb. "It's not as lively as usual because of the past few storms, but it seems like some merchants refuse to bow down to Mother Nature. They're as greedy as ever."
"Not as lively as usual…?" Nyell heard himself repeat, dumbfounded. He glanced at the settlement once more. Was Allen kidding him? He already found the place to be crowded, but it could get even more crowded?!
"M-my lord! You're back?"
The panicked voice snapped Nyell out of his daze, and only then did he realize that two guards were standing beside the entrance of the passageway. They were armed with spears, and leather armors were strapped onto their forearms and torso on top of their robes. It made Nyell frown. This was new. He was accustomed to the White Moon tribe's hunters, but none of them wore things like that. Wait. That wasn't important right now.
"Lord?" Nyell repeated, tilting his head as he threw a questioning gaze at Allen.
"When interacting with other werewolf tribes," Allen patiently explained, his eyes somewhat dotting, "I use the title 'tribal chief' as it is the coutume, but my people prefer to refer to me as their 'lord', thanks to the influence of foreign culture. It appears more noble and imposing, according to the elders, and ensures outsiders understand my standing." Allen bent over and whispered in Nyell's ear, "If you want my opinion, the elders just want to use some pompous term they learned from foreigners. Chief or lord, it's the same. I'm still my people's leader. As long as they don't try to crown me king of this region, I don't really care what others call me. So use whatever term you prefer."
"Is that so…" Nyell nodded, peering at the guards, whose shocked faces were quite spectacular. It made him frown slightly. What the hell was wrong with them? "Do I have something on my face?"
The two guards quickly shook their heads, and one of them smiled wryly. He politely said, "I'm sorry for our disrespect. It has been a long time since a non-member of our tribe has come in from the devil gate."
"Devil?" Nyell cocked an eyebrow before turning his attention to Allen. He could read between the lines, and he didn't mince his words, "Sorry if I'm wrong, but does this mean that beyond the mountain, you see it as hell and the beings living there as devils, including my people?"
"Well, yes."
"I know that the jungle is unforgiving, but how the heck did the Black Moon tribe's people earn the nickname of devils?"
"How many of my hunters did you make cry again?"
"…Fair enough."
Nyell got the cue and didn't pursue the matter. He had a hunch their guerilla tactics weren't the only reason they were seen as evil. Their appearance differed greatly from that of the White Moon tribe's people. Their skin, hair, and eye colors were the exact opposite, and if there was one thing most living beings had in common, it was their tendency to be wary of those who were different. Even if the White Moon tribe meddled with other species, if a group of people looked peculiar and were hostile to them, of course, they would earn an unpleasing monicker. It was the same with the Black Moon tribe. They usually referred to the White Moon tribe's hunters as cowardly, hungry ghosts, thanks to their pale skin and hair. Between a cowardly ghost and a devil, Nyell already knew which nickname he liked better.
"Should I announce your arrival?" One guard said, appearing a little ill at ease as he eyed their woven hands. "And that of your, hum, guest?"
"No," Allen waved the guard off. "There's no need. I'd like to walk around a little before the elders get on my back."
"Walking around incognito is impossible, though," Myrven mercilessly reminded his chief. "Our faces are a little too well-known."
"But our people are a lot less annoying than the elders and their cronies," Allen laughed, making the already nervous guards lower their heads even more. "I want Nyell to be able to sightsee before Jawe tries to put his clutches on him. You know how he is. There's no way this two-faced, power-hungry geezer will leave my destined mate be."
"Even so…"
As Myrven and Allen exchanged words, Nyell's gaze returned to the guards, who appeared to have been struck by lightning. Their eyes were bulging, seemingly about to fall out of their sockets. One mouthed his name, while the other repeated the word destined mate. As expected, his name was known, and his reputation preceded him. He did cause a lot of trouble for the White Moon tribe, just as much as they caused trouble for them. Nyell didn't know what was shocking the two guards the most: his identity, or the fact that Allen had brought back his destined mate. Either way, he smiled at the poor lads before lifting a finger to his lips, mimicking a 'shh' sign. They were starting to attract passersby's attention, and he didn't want rumors to fly just yet. He wanted to have some fun first, which was also why he hadn't loosened his grip on Allen's hand.
At first, Nyell hadn't planned to keep holding the shaman's hand once they exited the passageway, but the guards' surprised eyes and uncomfortable expressions whenever they glanced at their woven hands changed Nyell's mind. It seemed like Allen wasn't the kind to show this sort of intimate gesture in public, and people's curiosity and shocked gazes were quite entertaining. It made him want to be a little mischievous, and he thus tightened his grip on Allen's hand, digging in his nails between his knuckles. Since the shaman wasn't complaining, Nyell let his pettiness speak.
"Anything you want to see in particular?" Allen asked as he leaned closer to Nyell. "We don't have much time before the news reaches the geezer's ears, but we should have enough time to visit a place or two."
"That," Nyell responded without hesitation, pointing to the harbor. "You need to explain to me how those things are floating on the water. And can we get onto one? I want to see these from up close."
Nyell's honest and curious question drew a tender smile out of Allen, making the guards shake into their boots. What Nyell had yet to realize was that these men weren't nervous because of his identity but because of how their lord was behaving. These soft eyes, dotting gestures… Who the fuck was this man? He was nothing like their heartless, haughty, and bloodthirsty lord! Since when did finding your fated mate change your personality upside-down?!