The Last Godfall: Transmigrated as the Young Master-Chapter 148: Forest Peoples

They came out from the trees together, branches giving way to open ground. Ahead, two women stood near a worn path, speaking in low voices. One held a basket at her hip. The other leaned on a staff cut from green wood.

Vencian slowed his pace. The open space made him aware of his clothes, the dirt on his boots. He watched Seris step forward as if this were expected of her.

He had doubts about walking straight up to strangers. The forest carried too many unknowns. Still, he kept those doubts to himself. Seris had already chosen the approach.

She greeted the women first. Her voice carried cleanly. Vencian stayed half a step behind her, eyes moving between the women’s faces and their hands. He saw curiosity there, then caution.

Seris spoke again. The words themselves were polite. The way she held her chin and kept her gaze level stripped that politeness thin. It sounded like a request shaped as a statement.

The women answered. Their speech came quick and unfamiliar. Vencian caught rhythm and tone, yet the meaning slid past him. He waited, studying Seris’s calm expression.

When the women finished, Seris turned slightly toward him.

"What did they say?" he asked.

"They said we are in Tiverrey Forest," Seris replied.

The name settled in his thoughts at once. Tiverrey was large, stretching from the center of the kingdom toward the northern reaches. It fed trade routes and swallowed travelers who wandered off them. Being here explained the long walk and the slow thinning of the trees.

"That narrows little," Vencian said. "Ask more."

Seris inclined her head and continued. Her questions followed one after another. Each answer drew more attention. A man stepped closer from the path, then another woman from between the trees. Voices rose behind them. Someone laughed, brief and sharp.

Vencian shifted his stance. His hand hovered near his side, ready to move. The growing crowd set his nerves tight. Forest folk gathered fast, and that gathering could turn for reasons that had little to do with him.

Seris spoke over the low noise. Her voice cut through it with ease. She listened, then spoke again, and again. People answered from different directions now. The two women were joined by others, forming a loose half circle.

He watched faces instead of words. Some looked wary. Some looked amused. A few showed open interest. No one looked afraid.

Seris finally turned toward him. "They say we are near the edge of the main settlement," she said. "The larger village sits further along the path."

Vencian nodded once. He kept his eyes on the group, measuring distance and number. The crowd held its place, curious but contained.

"If we want to reach a town or city," Seris continued, "we need to pass through Tiria village."

A murmur went through the listeners as she spoke the name. One of the men gestured down the path, pointing deeper into the forest.

Seris followed the gesture with her eyes. "From there," she went on, "they say we might find transport toward Viluwyn town."

Vencian felt the direction settle into place, like a map drawn in simple lines.

"And Viluwyn," Seris finished, "opens the way to the main city."

She fell silent then, her gaze still on the villagers as the crowd’s attention lingered on them.

Vencian leaned closer to Seris and kept his voice low. "Ask how long it takes to reach Tiria on foot."

She did not answer him right away. Instead, she turned back to the people and spoke again in their tongue. Her posture stayed straight, her hands still at her sides. The villagers answered in pieces, several voices at once, then settled as one older man spoke longer than the rest.

Seris listened, eyes fixed on the speaker. When he finished, she turned back.

"They say three days," she said. "Walking the whole way."

Vencian felt the number land hard. Three days through forest paths meant food, shelter, and time spent exposed. He glanced past the crowd. His body still carried the dull weight from earlier exertion. The idea of days like that pressed in on him.

"They have no animals," Seris added. "No carts. Nothing to ride."

He exhaled slowly. The distance and time stretched ahead in his thoughts, heavy and unhelpful. He pushed it aside. Worry would change nothing here.

Seris had already turned back to the villagers. She spoke again, and this time the sound of it drew more people in. Faces appeared from between trees and along the path. Men and women stepped closer, some carrying tools, others holding baskets or bundles. The half circle widened, then thickened.

Vencian kept his stance easy. He remembered thinking earlier that her way of speaking could sour a room. Standing here now, he found it strange that it had not. Her words stayed clipped, yet the crowd listened. Some frowned. Others tilted their heads as if weighing her value.

This could have gone worse, he thought.

Seris spoke for a long time. The language flowed around him in steady waves. He followed her expression instead. When she paused, someone else spoke. When that person stopped, another took over. It felt less like an argument and more like a negotiation where each side already knew the shape of the answer.

At last, Seris turned back to him.

"These people trade," she said. "A merchant comes from the city. They sell animal skins, rare woods, forest goods that fetch good coin."

"When," Vencian asked.

"Tomorrow," she replied. "The trader follows a loose schedule, yet they expect him by midday."

The pieces shifted in his mind and began to fit. A trader meant wagons, guards, and a known route. It meant fewer days on foot and fewer risks taken alone.

He leaned closer again. "Ask if we can hide here for a day," he said. "We wait for the trader and travel with him."

Seris studied him for a brief moment. Her eyes held that familiar sharpness, the look she used when someone voiced a thought she had already reached.

"I was thinking the same," she said.

She turned back to the villagers once more. This time her tone changed in a small way. It grew firmer, more directive. She spoke at length, then paused. Several people answered at once. A woman near the front crossed her arms. A younger man shook his head, then said something short.

Vencian watched the exchange closely. He stayed quiet, letting Seris carry the weight of it. He could feel eyes drifting toward him, then away again. His presence was being measured, catalogued, and set aside as part of her request.

Seris shifted her stance and spoke again. She gestured once, a small movement that included him in her words. The villagers’ attention followed the gesture.

She turned her head toward Vencian. "I am going to ask for a deal. They may look at you," she said under her breath. "When they do, upon my signal, just nod."

"That is it," he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Leave the rest to me."

He did not argue. When the villagers’ gazes settled on him, he gave a single nod.

Seris began speaking again, her voice steady as before. The words flowed past Vencian in a language he could not grasp. He focused on faces instead. The villagers watched her closely, some with arms folded, some leaning forward as if drawn in by habit rather than trust.

She stopped and looked at him. Several villagers followed her gaze.

He understood the signal. He nodded once.

Seris resumed at once, picking up the thread as if the pause had been planned. Her tone shifted again, subtle yet clear. The crowd reacted with low sounds and brief replies. Someone laughed near the back. Another person shook their head and spoke sharply, then fell silent when an older woman answered.

Seris glanced at Vencian again. The looks came with it, sharper this time.

He nodded again, though a tight feeling had started to settle at the base of his neck. He had no idea what role he was playing in this exchange, only that his agreement seemed to matter.

Seris continued. The conversation stretched longer than before. Vencian’s unease grew as the sound of it took on a different rhythm. He watched hands move, gestures made toward him, then toward the trees.

When Seris and the villagers looked to him again, something in the timing felt off. He hesitated, then made a small sideways shake of his head instead of the upward nod.

The reaction came at once.

People moved toward him in a rush. Vencian’s body tensed on instinct. His weight shifted, ready to break away or strike. Before he could act, hands were on his arms and shoulders. They lifted him clean off the ground.

His breath caught. His muscles coiled.

Seris spoke sharply, her voice cutting through the noise. He did not understand the words, yet the intent reached him all the same. It pressed down on his reflexes, firm and urgent.

"Do not," she said in his tongue, low and quick. "They mean no harm."

He held still. The villagers carried him with care rather than force, adjusting their grip when his balance shifted. The path rose slightly, then leveled. They passed between houses built close together, wood and rope bound tight, platforms worn smooth by use.

They took him into one of the houses near the center. The interior smelled of resin and dried leaves. A simple bed stood against the far wall, covered with thick woven cloth. They laid him down gently and stepped back.

Seris entered behind them. One by one, the villagers left the house. A woman lingered at the doorway and spoke to Seris in a low voice. Seris answered briefly.

The woman nodded and stepped out, pulling the door partway closed behind her.

Vencian pushed himself up on his elbows. "What just happened," he asked.

"They have given us a place to stay until tomorrow," Seris said. "They will hide us."

His brow furrowed. "What did you tell them."

She turned toward the door and reached for it. "A secret."

As she closed it, Vencian caught the smallest change in her expression that he couldn’t name.