"—ABOUT?"
Veronica stood behind the counter near the library entrance, deep in earnest conversation with several visitors. But the moment she spotted Juliet emerging from the back corridor, her eyes widened.
"Oh! Have you finished exploring the temple already?"
"Yes — thank you for showing me the way," Juliet replied with a warm smile.
She turned toward the exit, but as she moved to leave, the small crowd gathered near the counter shifted their attention toward her. Several pairs of curious eyes settled on her face.
"Ah, so *you're* the girl who came to see the sights, aren't you?"
In a town this small, rumors traveled faster than footsteps.
Juliet glanced around at the group. They wore the same plain, sturdy clothing she had seen on the people in the market square — working clothes, honest clothes. And though they were seeing her for the first time, their expressions held nothing but friendliness.
"I heard something unpleasant happened to you the moment you arrived."
"That sort of thing doesn't happen here often. I hope you weren't hurt?"
It took Juliet only a moment to realize they were talking about the pickpocket.
"Oh — yes, I'm perfectly fine. Thank you for asking."
The men introduced themselves as merchants from the **Ashur Guild**. They had been present in the town square during the incident the day before and had apparently heard the full account since.
"If you're planning to head back toward the square, you'd be welcome to ride with us in our wagon," one of them offered. "I don't think it's wise for a lady to walk alone — even if it isn't far."
Juliet saw no reason to refuse and accepted with a grateful nod.
While she waited for them to finish their business, she wondered idly what merchants could possibly need in a library. But from snatches of their conversation drifting across the room, she gathered they had come for a map — specifically, a map of the forest.
*A forest map? Since when do merchant guilds have trouble with maps?*
Why would they need to come all the way here for one?
Her curiosity was answered when she caught a glimpse of the object the merchants were examining. The forest map was nothing like a standard paper chart. Spread across one of the reading tables was a massive **topographic map** carved from wooden planks, its pieces fitted together like an enormous puzzle — each section representing ridges, valleys, and tree lines in careful, tactile relief.
Juliet settled near the library entrance, her gaze wandering across the bookshelves while the guild merchants carefully dismantled the wooden map section by section and carried the pieces out to their wagon. After a while, her curiosity got the better of her. She rose, drifted toward the shelves, and plucked out a book whose title caught her eye.
Meanwhile, the merchants, having finished loading the map, had gathered around Veronica's counter again. Their voices had dropped into a serious, clipped register.
"Then the problem will be serious."
"I've heard they're having a hard time with the slave traders. They're rounding up mixed-race people—"
"Does that have anything to do with the matter?"
"And what does the great lord of Aquitaine say about all this?"
"When have you *ever* seen a great lord care about something like this?"
"If the Silver Forest is damaged, they will *not* stand aside."
"Are you talking about the Lycan people now?"
*…Lycan people?*
Juliet hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but the merchants made no effort to lower their voices, and the library was too small for discretion.
**Silver Forest.**
That was the title of the book she held in her hands. Juliet turned a few pages and stopped at an illustration that filled the entire spread — the image of a **giant wolf**, rendered in dark ink, its eyes sharp and ancient.
*Roy.*
The thought surfaced unbidden. She found herself suddenly curious about where the young man from the train was now.
*Was that wolf able to make it home safely?*
Slavery had been abolished by imperial law.
However, the eastern lands were home to far more mixed-race inhabitants than humans. And imperial decrees did not always carry the same weight in the East as they did in the rest of the empire.
It was also well known that most mixed-race communities were hostile toward humans, choosing to live in closed, guarded enclaves — places like the Silver Forest. But that very isolation was precisely what made them vulnerable. Cut off from the empire's protections, they became attractive targets for those involved in the slave trade.
*Well,* Juliet thought darkly, *wherever you go, people will always be the real trouble.*
A frown creased her brow as the memory returned — the enormous wolf chained and motionless, crammed inside a cage barely large enough to hold him, his amber eyes wide with a fear he was too proud to show.
*It was no coincidence. He was a rare catch, snared in a trap designed so he couldn't escape. Those men weren't smugglers or poachers — they were slave traders.*
She recalled the rumors she had heard while still living in the North. Certain wealthy southern aristocrats, their lives bloated with luxury and empty of purpose, were known to purchase mixed-race slaves for private entertainment — exotic curiosities to be displayed, used, and discarded.
But Juliet herself had never encountered anyone of mixed race before setting foot in the East. Until now, the entire concept had felt abstract — something that existed in other people's stories.
So when she had seen the massive wolf on the train, it hadn't even occurred to her that she might be looking at a mixed-race person.
Since arriving in the East, she had passed through two cities, and every face she'd encountered had been ordinary, unremarkably human. She was beginning to understand that seeing a mixed-race individual here was not nearly as common as she had assumed.
While Juliet was lost in these thoughts, the merchants concluded their discussion with Veronica. The librarian turned to Juliet with a bright smile, telling her she was welcome to borrow any book she liked. Juliet declined with thanks, promising to return another day, and followed the merchants out to the waiting wagon.
---
Once everyone had climbed aboard and the wagon lurched into motion, the merchants resumed their conversation — their voices tight with concern.
"But you're not actually going to go *there*, are you?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Hmm. I don't think now is the best time. There are too many rumors."
"Yes — I've heard the situation has changed."
"And why so suddenly?"
"Who knows. So what do we do when we reach Perinas?"
The unease among them was palpable. For merchants whose livelihoods depended on reliable trade routes, the problem was clear: the **Silver Forest** occupied a vast stretch at the heart of the East, and getting around it was no simple detour.
One of the merchants turned to Juliet with a casual but earnest expression. "If you're planning to pass through Kartia, miss, I'd advise against it for now."
Juliet had been listening attentively. She was beginning to wonder whether the situation in the eastern region was worse than she had imagined. Visiting the Silver Forest, however, was never part of her plans.
She gave a slight nod. "What rumors were you talking about, exactly?"
"The werewolf king," one of the merchants replied. "Rumor has it, there's been a change."
"I see."
Despite her measured response, the merchant closest to her seemed compelled to explain further.
"Unlike humans, werewolves are a long-lived race. A change of king is *not* a common occurrence — it might happen once in several human lifetimes."
"Does it matter that much?"
"Very much." The man's expression was grave. "At least in the East, a werewolf lord is more worthy of the title *king* than the great lord of Aquitaine himself."
"Oh — really?"
Juliet blinked, genuine surprise flickering across her face.
**Aquitaine** was the largest city in the East and the site of the eastern gate. It was also the ancient capital of the Old Kingdom. The Akitas family had governed it for generations, and their authority was roughly equivalent to that of the Duke of Carlisle in the North.
Knowing this, Juliet found it difficult to believe that a werewolf lord could hold a position more influential than the great Lord Akitas.
"It's all because of the Silver Forest," the merchant explained without prompting.
Juliet recalled the carved wooden map, the thick blocks of territory the merchants had handled so carefully.
The Silver Forest was the name given to the enormous woodland near the city of Kartia — a sprawling, ancient expanse that dominated the eastern interior.
"It's a pity we can't find out what the new lord is like," another merchant sighed.
According to their explanation, the werewolf lord's influence over the forest's inhabitants was comparable to the emperor's authority over the empire itself. The loyalty and behavior of every mixed-race community sheltered beneath those silver canopies shifted depending on how the current lord regarded humans — whether with tolerance, indifference, or open hostility.
For members of the merchant guilds, who traveled vast distances carrying valuable goods through territory they could not control, such matters were not merely interesting. They were *existential*.
"So you don't know for certain whether the lord has actually changed?" Juliet asked.
"Hard to say for sure," the group's leader replied, his brow furrowed. "But the number of slave traders has been climbing in recent months, and the forest dwellers grow more hostile toward humans by the day. Something has shifted."
He went on to explain that several years ago, a handful of small guilds had begun kidnapping young mixed-race individuals near the forest's borders and selling them at underground slave auctions.
Juliet's frown deepened.
So she had been right about what happened on the train. She'd known nothing of any of it until she noticed the suspicious men in the dining car — but the pieces now fit together with ugly precision.
It must have been the same kind of guild — or perhaps the very same one — that had entered the illegal trade.
The more she thought about it, the clearer the picture became. That chain. The metal cylinder filled with the strange, unidentified liquid. Those tools hadn't been improvised. They were *designed* — specifically engineered to capture and restrain someone of mixed race. This hadn't been a spontaneous kidnapping. It was **organized crime**.
*Looks like I might have stirred up more trouble than I realized.*
She didn't regret freeing the wolf — she never would. But the thought that she had interfered with the operations of a criminal organization gnawed at her quietly.
Juliet pushed the worry to the farthest corner of her mind. She refused to torment herself over a problem that might not even exist.
Still, now that she understood the scope of the slave trade, a small, stubborn knot of unease tightened in her chest. She had let Roy go without a word of farewell, without knowing where he was headed or whether he had anyone to return to.
*He has too gentle a nature. Too trusting. And he's still so young…*
She remembered his face — that open, handsome smile, the way he had followed every instruction she gave without hesitation, without a single word of objection.
---
"We've arrived."
The merchant's voice broke through her thoughts. The wagon had rolled to a stop at the edge of the town square.
Juliet thanked them warmly and climbed down from the wagon.
She took a few steps forward — then stopped.
"…?"
A strange, prickling sensation swept across the back of her neck. She turned slowly, scanning the square.
"Hm? Something wrong?" the leader of the merchant group called out, puzzled.
"No," Juliet said after a pause. "I think it was just my imagination."
*But I definitely felt someone watching me.*
After bidding the merchants farewell, she walked directly toward the spot where the sensation had been strongest — a narrow gap between two shops on the square's far side.
No one was there.
The alley was empty. The shadows were still.
*Hmm. That's strange. Maybe I'm just tired from the journey?*
Juliet gave a slight shrug and turned away.
But as she walked back into the sunlit square, the uneasy feeling lingered — a faint, persistent weight between her shoulder blades, like the memory of eyes that hadn't yet looked away.