Caracara's Hunt 117 Trus

Childish? Six-year-old?

Arawn leaned against the wall behind him with a frown on his face. His hearing was no longer as good as when he was a beast, but he could still hear Sylvester and Mutallu talking a distance away.

They discussed him as if he was a baby despite his age, and he couldn't help but question it. Did he really seem that young and foolish?

His actions since the moment he heard about Val's plight put a definite yes as an answer. He had rushed out like a headless fly, and the way he unloaded his frustrations on Mutallu did not score him any points either. Calling him a child was already being charitable.

The Gutter flashed past Arawn's eyes, and he realized what had gone wrong. Since his birth, he had been alone and unable to trust even himself, so how could he trust others?

Corwal had made him second guess what he knew and start to believe in the world and himself, but the betrayal had been a harsh slap of reality. It shattered what little trust and confidence he had built up.

The frown on Arawn's face eased, and he breathed out a heavy sigh. It was then that he made his first huge mistake. He chose to raise his guard and not let anyone close again. Even if he messed up, he would do so himself instead of being manipulated into it.

What conceit! He was nothing more than a newborn chick puffing up his chest and saying that he could face anything that the world might throw at him.

Since the events in the capital, he had relied on Mutallu and Sylvester, but had never truly trusted their judgment. Every single time, he thought he knew better and did things his way, regardless of the consequences.

And worst of all, he didn't consider how it would affect them.

They might have chosen to help him because of Corwal, but they did their best to ensure that he was okay. Even when he lost his mind as a beast and tried to kill them, they did not turn on him but helped him change back.

"Sylvester's right… I need to grow up and stop acting like the whole world is out to get me, even if it is."

With a wan smile, Arawn pushed himself up and winced. His knuckles were raw from punching the wall. Blood had dried up on them, which created a grisly sight, but Arawn ignored it.

He left the dilapidated building and ran after Mutallu. The two men weren't far, but before Arawn reached them, his footsteps slowed. He wanted to call out to them, but no words left his mouth.

What was he supposed to say now? Ask Sylvester to heal his hands? Plead for help out of nowhere?

Everything sounded wrong in Arawn's mind. He couldn't mention that he had overheard their conversation, but it was awkward to just come out and say that he found himself lacking and needed a.s.sistance.

He sighed heavily in frustration.

The two men heard him. They turned around and looked at him with sharp, searching gazes. Arawn squirmed under them. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say yet…

"Out with it," Sylvester ordered. "I don't want to see that pathetic look on your face."

"It's not—" Arawn started saying, then stopped and sighed again. Maybe it was pathetic. He felt like a fish out of water, not knowing what to say or do. "I want to save Val," he said in the end.

It wasn't the thing he wanted to focus on, but it was the most important thought on his mind. The idea that the man was stuck in a dungeon of a city that wanted him and his family dead did not sit well with him. It was made even worse when he thought about how he had run away after injuring the guards.

"And you're telling us that why?" Sylvester asked with a tilt of his head.

Mutallu stood quietly behind him without saying a word, his expression unreadable. It made Arawn want to shut up and just abandon his course of action, but he forced himself to continue.

"I need your help," he said in a strong voice that faltered the second after. "I've been… reckless… and fool-hardy. I've made mistakes." He hesitated for a moment before meeting eyes with Mutallu, then Sylvester. "I don't want to repeat that, so, please, help me."

Silence reigned in the street. Both Sylvester and Mutallu stared at Arawn as if he had grown a second nose or a third ear. He lowered his head under their scrutiny, and Sylvester walked over to him.

He picked Arawn's right hand and examined his knuckles crusted with blood. "Could fever have set in so fast?" he murmured under his breath. As he frowned, he looked up to check out Arawn's eyes. "Are you hiding any old injuries? They might—"

Arawn pulled his hand out of Sylvester's grasp with his face flushed red. "You don't need to mock me."

"I'm not mocking you! I'm genuinely concerned about your well-being!"

"Right…" Arawn muttered through gritted teeth.

One of the reasons why he couldn't trust Sylvester was the doctor's penchant for mocking him. He could never tell if it was serious or just his way of interacting with people.

"Stop taunting him, or don't blame him for being blasted to bits," Mutallu said with a roll of his eyes, and Arawn realized that ether had started to collect around him.

He dismissed it with a furious wave of his hand and glared at Sylvester. The doctor raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. "I was really just looking out for you. I swear."

His expression said he was being genuine, but Arawn didn't trust him one bit. He took a step back and calmed his mind. No good was going to come out of getting riled up.

Sylvester remained in his place while frowning at the ground. In a subconscious manner, he dusted off his dark brown coat despite there being not a speck of dust on it.

"What do you mean you want our help?" Mutallu asked, attracting Arawn's attention, and he looked away from Sylvester.

He crossed his arms and forced himself to speak in a level voice. "I've thought about what you said, and I realized that I've been... too headstrong. Both you and Sylvester know much more about Nairyãm and how it works than I do, so I should have asked for your help from the start instead of rus.h.i.+ng off on my own."

"d.a.m.n well you should have," Sylvester said from behind. He didn't even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice. "What the h.e.l.l were you even thinking to do? You're lucky none of the elite mages were present or you would have been struck down and executed!"

"I can't be killed," Arawn said on reflex.

"Sure." Sylvester laughed. "Then you would have exploded and obliterated Nairyãm. Brilliant plan! True genius!" His lips curled into a sneer. "You're a freakin' moron."

It was hard not to fight back, not to throw excuses that would explain why he had done it. There were a thousand reasons for why he had done what he did, but none of them were good. And he would have to live with it.

"I know," he said begrudgingly. "And that's exactly why I need your help. I don't want to be a pa.s.serby in my own life anymore."

"It might still come down to fighting," Mutallu said in a cold voice.

"But then, I'll at least know that all the other options have been considered. I wouldn't have picked the worst one right from the get go."

Mutallu nodded at his words and looked at Sylvester. Arawn also turned to him, praying that he wouldn't mock him again.

The doctor studied him with narrowed eyes. There was a question in his gaze, but Arawn did not understand it. All he could do was look back and hope that Sylvester would find the answer he was looking for by himself.

After a long time, Sylvester relaxed and leaned against the wall of a random building next to him. "Fine, I'll help you. But this time, you'll actually have to listen to me. No more of that hero nonsense or saving the innocent bulls.h.i.+t. If I aim you left, you go left. If I aim you right, you go right. One misstep, and you're on your own.

"And just so we're in the clear, I couldn't care less about the survival of that Val guy or his family. His father was a decent man when compared to the other fat pigs in the n.o.bility, but no more than that. I have no good feelings for him.

"I'll help you because you asked and I promised Corwal to take care of his orphans, but if you put me in danger, I'm done. I won't die for you."

Arawn's heart skipped a beat. The idea that his friends might end up in danger because of helping him had not crossed his mind before.

His first thought was to take back his words and say he was going to be fine on his own, but he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from falling back into the same pit.

Mutallu and Sylvester weren't fools. They knew their capabilities and would not put themselves in mortal danger.

If he didn't believe in them and left on his own again, he would keep on repeating his mistakes a thousand times more. He might learn at some point, but how many people would die or get maimed until then?

He was turning a new leaf, and he had to learn to believe in others to achieve it. Despite not having his invincibility, they had been in the outside world for more than a decade and were still alive.

"All right."