"Demi-humans? Well, I would say quite little has been written on the subject I'm afraid, as far as I know." Old Julian kept conversation with Boc, while the younger partner managed the shelves in his uniquely gymnastic style.
"In the little you have read, what did it say?" Boc asked.
"Hmmm . . . I believe Talcott's Compendium Naturalis has a short entry describing Demi-humans, emphasizing those features most distinguishing from man, and places them in a unique category closer to the highest intelligence among animals rather than the lowest among humans."
"Well, if you ask me, Sir, I feel more like a human than an animal. I mean, here I am conversating about it, and I don't suppose any squirrels or bears ask you questions on a regular basis."
"That's true, you and your mother show great aptitude. But I must beg your pardon, you asked what the literature has to say about demi-humans. Other than Talcott, I couldn't site the source, but I believe there have been references here and there to some more learned qualities in certain demi-humans. You know, that reminds me, a number of years ago, before, I think before you and your mother appeared here in the castle, there was a nobleman from the east of Limgrave who was very interested in studying everything he could learn about demi-humans. I remember he was sitting at, at, at that table over there, and he was astonished. I asked him what had struck him so, and he pointed to a passage, I don't remember the work, it never crossed my mind once from that day until this, but he said what astonished him so was a reference to so-called intelligent demi-humans from a land far and away up north. That's right, I remember now, that some time later when you and your mother first visited this library and we conversed, I remember thinking, absently, that you must be from that far and away place where demi-humans converse with humans, and I, uh, . . . I just now put the two thoughts together. Oh, I wish I had paid more attention to what sources that young nobleman, what was his name . . . Haight? . . . Kenneth Haight . . . what he had read to astonish him so."
"We did come from some place very far away, and north of here, at least that's where my mum came from. She tells me about it sometimes."
"Fascinating. I wonder whether Lord Haight would like to meet you. I don't know that I have seen him since, but I've noticed his name being talked about here and there over the years by those who busy themselves by talking about others."
Old Julian sat quietly in his thoughts, while Boc continued shelving. Some time later, when Boc was finishing up, Old Julian asked, "Where was it?"
"I'm sorry Sir, where was what?" Boc replied.
"Up north, where you come from, where was it?"
"Oh? Well, where my mum came from . . . it was a village, up on the side of a volcano . . . Hermit Village is what she calls it, and I don't know if that's the real name or just what she calls it."
"Volcano? I only know of one volcano, Mt. Gelmir," Old Julian replied. "That is a mighty far way north, I should say."
"Of course, that was before I was born, so I've just been told stories of the place."
"Quite right . . . say, Boc, I wonder if you and your mother would be willing to share those stories with me. I could write them down and provide some analysis. Perhaps together we could arrive at a better understanding of Demi-humans than Talcott has left us with. What do you say?"
"I would be happy to tell you what I know, but really you should wait until my mum is back, she's the one you want to talk to."
"Yes, I expect so . . . do you know when she will be returning?"
"Not exactly, no Sir. But, I'm sure it will be soon . . . well, good day to you then, the books are all sorted here, so I'll see you later then."
"Yes, of course, and thank you Boc, you do a fine job."
Boc's route home took him through the training yard of the castle, and reminded him how much things had changed in a short time. The day after Thanny left with Godrick's Soldiers, groups of Exile Soldiers began to arrive. Everything about them breathed mystery and uttered darkness. They wore a sort of uniform, but much different than the tabards worn by Godrick's Soldiers. It had a deep crimson cloth that wrapped around the torso and over the shoulders, before continuing to wrap up and around the head like a hood. In this way, their face was fully concealed at all times, a perpetual shadow miserly hoarding both figure and intent. The arms and legs bore chain, plate, and leather, pieced together in a fashion to be less restrictive of movement than a typical knight's armor. Peculiarly, every soldier also had dry brambles incorporated here and there into and out of the uniform, but for what purpose one such as Boc could only guess.
It was said that Exile Soldiers had previously been sent to the penal colonies, which is why they always kept their faces hidden. If that were true, Boc wondered why they weren't still there. Maybe the prisoners didn't need watching anymore, or maybe watching prisoners wasn't why they were there.
They carried a mix of weapons. Some had swords, others had spears or large axes. Nearly all carried and practiced with a cross-bow. There were a few Exile Soldiers who utilized a movement by which they sent a swirling wind from their swords directly at an opponent, easily shattering wooden crates during organized drill. Training consisted of broad, deliberate, and mostly silent movements, choreographed not by words, but by coordinated grunts. When Exile Soldiers weren't training, they typically just sat down and went to sleep on the spot.
The Exile Soldiers were accompanied by a half-dozen or so Banished Knights. Warriors of exceedingly great size in brilliant metal plate armor, these mercurial mercenaries were fearsome to behold. Several chose halberds to wield, while others employed a great-sword and massive shield. Boc never saw them training, or giving orders, but they certainly seemed to be in charge. The Knights moved slowly, deliberately, almost Troll-like, as if to conserve against the massive amounts of energy required to sustain locomotion in such a towering frame.
This day, like many others, Boc chose to defer retreating back to his tent. In the south-west corner of the training yard was an old tree, thickened of trunk and bedecked of broad, yawning leaves. The woody denizen perfectly shaded and shielded Boc's chosen climbing route up the stone wall. At the top, he timed his run across a narrow thoroughfare to remain unseen, and then engaged in another scramble to the top of a still higher wall. From there, he slipped like a shadow into, through, and out of a series of rooms, ramps, stairs, elevators and other things wherein stores were kept and guarded. Scurrying across a beam high above the floor, Boc arrived at his destination hole. It was not a hole in the floor, but in the stone wall. Big enough that Boc could not touch both left and right sides at the same time, it told of some terrible battle long ago, when ships from the sea far below had hurled fury and fire against the stalwart might of Stormveil.
For Boc, it was a hole not for recalling such perilous times, but rather for watching the ever turbulent sky turn from afternoon to evening. It was not for no purpose that Stormveil Castle received its name. The local conditions ensured a perpetual storm was ever imminent, but always not quite yet fully attained. This day was no exception. Boc spent an hour of solitude looking out to a fading horizon, having faith in the setting of an unseen sun.
Darkness settled while Boc's thoughts yet swirled, but he took the cue it was time to go home. Retracing his steps with ease given his superior visual acuity in the dark, he quickly descended back down to the training grounds, and recovered to his humble tent. He was just settling in when he heard a grunting noise at the door of the tent. Alerting in that direction, he was shocked to see what looked like a leg and an arm of an Exile Soldier coming through the door. After a moment, it became clear the doorway was too small, and the soldier could not step inside. Another grunt ensued, and the soldier took to a knee, and poked his crimson hood through the opening. With one arm, it beckoned Boc to come outside.
Having never interacted with an Exile Soldier before, Boc nevertheless felt obligated to comply. Stepping cautiously out of the doorway, he looked up to see the hooded soldier. Deep into the cavity where a face would be expected, he saw nothing but darkness. Not even a glint in the soldier's eyes could escape.
"Can I help you, Sir?" Boc stammered.
The soldier grunted again, and quickly bent down. Boc took a reflexive step back, but when the soldier stood back up, Boc could see that he had left a stack of crimson cloth on the ground in front of the Demi-human. The soldier then stood in silence. Perhaps he blinked, but who would ever know?
Finally Boc said, "Umm . . . Begging your pardon, Sir, but I don't understand."
At that, the soldier let out what Boc was quickly coming to consider an obligatory grunt, and reached down to show that there were several rips in the crimson cloth on the top of the stack. The soldier then uncovered the second crimson cloth, and likewise emphasized some areas of disrepair.
"Oh, I see. You're bringing these to be mended," Boc said at the moment of realization, "I would love to help you, but you see my mum is the seamstress, and she's not here. I'm terribly sorry. She'll be back soon, I expect, and you can check with her directly."
The soldier's grunt expressed frustration, and he stabbed a finger right into Boc's chest, and then the same finger forcefully down into the stack of crimson cloth. Further words were unnecessary, as Boc understood that the soldier was not making a request.
"Ok, uh, sure, I'll see what I can do. I won't be making any promises, but I'll certainly give it a go."
The soldier was already stalking away, leaving Boc alone with his newly acquired stack of Exile Soldier uniforms. Feeling stunned, Boc stared down at the uniforms, scratching the back of his head. "I never expected that," he said to himself. Finally, he picked up the stack which, in his Demi-human arms, was considerably larger than when the soldier had been holding it. He carried it inside his tent and put it down where Thanny had kept her to-do pile. And that was just about a day done, so Boc readied himself for bed, and went to sleep.
