Oath of the King-Chapter 14: A Weird Old Man

That night, the old man let them camp near his fire. Martha offered to help cook, and they shared a meal of boiled potatoes and dried meat. Just as Leonhard was about to close his eyes, a low growl echoed from the trees.

The horses whinnied nervously, stomping their hooves. The old man cursed under his breath and grabbed his knife."Wolves. Been more of 'em lately."

Leonhard's hands clenched at his sides, and Martha gave him a warning look. But when the first wolf lunged from the darkness, teeth bared, instinct took over. He raised his hand and focused, feeling the warmth build in his palm. A burst of flame shot forward, scorching the ground and making the wolf yelp in pain as it scrambled away.

Two more wolves appeared, circling the camp. Leonhard took a deep breath and willed the vines around them to grow, tangling one wolf's legs and holding it down. The other managed to leap at him, but a whip of fire snapped across its side, sending it fleeing into the night.

The old man just stared, his jaw slack. Martha stayed calm, giving him a look that clearly said, "Don't ask."

When it was over, Leonhard let out a shaky breath. He hadn't even realized his hands were trembling. Martha put a hand on his shoulder."It's all right. You did what you had to."

The old man cleared his throat, still trying to process what he saw."A magic user, huh? Can't say I've seen that before."

Leonhard didn't know what to say, but Martha just gave the old man a firm nod."He saved our lives. That's all that matters."

The old man just grunted and went back to tending the horses, but his eyes lingered on Leonhard with a strange glint—one that Martha didn't notice. They slept uneasily that night, but at least the wolves didn't return.

The next few days passed slowly. The carriage creaked on as they moved through the woods and into more open plains. Leonhard practiced controlling his magic when Martha wasn't looking, trying to make small flames without burning his hands. He didn't want to scare her more than he already had.

Once, they stopped at a small village to restock supplies. The old man dropped them off at the edge of the village, giving them a nod before continuing on his way.

"Take care, boy," he said, his voice strangely flat. Leonhard just nodded, grateful for the ride. Martha offered a quiet thank-you before they walked down the dirt road toward the village center.

They found an inn near the well—a small, crooked building with peeling paint but a warm glow coming from the windows. Martha pushed open the door, and the sound of chatter and clinking mugs greeted them. They approached the innkeeper, a stout woman with a messy bun and tired eyes.

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"How much for a room for the night?" Martha asked, pulling out the few coins they had left.

The woman eyed them up and down. "One silver," she said bluntly.

Martha counted the coins in her palm, hesitated, then handed them over. The innkeeper nodded and handed her a rusty key. "Up the stairs, third door on the right."

They climbed the creaky wooden steps and found their room—small and cramped, but better than sleeping on the ground. A single cot and a rickety chair were all it had to offer, but Martha just gave Leonhard a reassuring smile.

"Get some rest," she said. "I'll see if they've got any food downstairs."

Leonhard sat on the cot, stretching his legs. As he settled in, he couldn't help but glance out the small, grimy window. The village was quiet, only a few torches burning along the main road. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Meanwhile, the old man had made his way to the village chief's house—a larger building with a thick wooden door and a carved emblem of a wolf's head above it. He pounded on the door until a tall, stern-faced man opened it, squinting at him.

"What do you want at this hour, Jeb?" the chief grumbled.

Jeb, the old man, took a deep breath and leaned in, lowering his voice."I seen something, Chief. A boy—no more than fourteen—using magic. Fire and vines, like some kind of demon. He's a heretic."

The chief's eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth. "Magic? Are you sure?"

"Saw it with my own eyes," Jeb insisted. "He burned a wolf and made vines sprout from the ground. Traveling with a woman—looks like his mother."

The chief cursed under his breath and grabbed his cloak. "We can't have heretics in our village. I'll gather the men. If he's truly a magic user, he'll be dealt with."

Jeb just nodded, a cruel smile twitching at his lips. "I knew somethin' was off about that boy. Should've thrown him to the wolves when I had the chance."

Back at the inn, Martha returned with a bowl of stew and some bread, handing it to Leonhard."Here. Eat up. We'll move out early in the morning."

Leonhard took the bowl, his stomach growling as he dug in. Martha just sat on the chair, staring at the wall, deep in thought. After a few bites, he glanced at her."Mom, do you think we're safe here?"

Martha looked at him, her eyes weary but soft. "It's just for one night. We'll be fine."

But Leonhard didn't miss the way her fingers kept tapping against the arm of the chair, like she couldn't quite shake off her own worries. He finished his meal and lay down on the cot, his eyes heavy with sleep.