Red Riding Hood - Chapter 50
Ylfus let out a shrill scream.
“Ahhh!”
With the scream, he forcefully folded his body in half, using the momentum to sit up. Supporting himself with his bound hands behind him, he managed to straighten his posture and sit upright.
From this vantage, the creature crouched beneath the window became clearer.
The creature had the head of a black goat, the upper body of a human woman, and a grotesquely large phallus for its lower half.
It was unmistakably a demon, no need to recall the heretical deities he had studied during his training.
Ylfus’s bright golden eyes widened in disbelief.
“Damn it all!”
From behind him, the sound of a heavy door creaking open filled the air. Ylfus turned his wide eyes to look.
What stood there were not humans. They were beasts.
Figures wearing dog masks held torches, accompanied by oxen and horses. Leading the group was someone in a white priest’s robe, their head adorned with a white goat mask.
Ylfus shouted,
“What’s the meaning of this? Where is Cinq?!”
The white goat ignored his question entirely and began to speak.
“When my ancestors discovered this land, they issued a warning: Beware the Black Wolf. Wherever the Black Wolf appears, rivers of blood will flow, and all shall perish!”
Sensing the rising tension, Ylfus hastily retorted,
“That’s not me! My name is Ylfus Gracian, heir to the great land of Kalasca and eldest son of House Gracian!”
The goat bellowed,
“That is the Black Wolf!”
Ylfus clenched his teeth and protested,
“No! While I may be called the Chivalric Order of the Wolf’s vanguard knight, and even the Wolf Knight, I’ve never been called the Black Wolf!”
He rambled on, all the while scanning the group behind the goat.
Though he couldn’t see their faces, their beastly masks were enough to confirm what he feared.
His foggy mind cleared as snippets of his beloved wife Cinq’s bird-like voice echoed in his head.
“In this village, there are no people. Only… other beings live here.”
She had murmured this while lowering her gaze, chopping turnips with a wooden spoon, as though trying to hide her fear.
“Body of a human, but the head of a fish.”
The fishmonger was a fish. The cart driver was a horse. Pigs, cows, and dogs roamed the streets. The temple priest was a goat.
Why had he dismissed her words as mere fantasy?
Twisting his wrists and ankles to free himself, Ylfus recalled an old proverb: “One should always heed his wife’s words!”
This was a village of demon-worshippers, cut off from the outside world, their faces obscured by beast masks.
To make matters worse, they saw Ylfus as an enemy, a Black Wolf, or something of the sort. And there was only one thing these mad demon-worshippers would do with such a foe.
Quiel spoke in a grim voice.
“Black Wolf, you will die here. This evening, when the sun sets beyond the forest, your execution will take place in the square.”
Panting heavily, Ylfus asked,
“My wife, Cinq. Where is she? Is she safe?”
At the word wife, Quiel ground his teeth.
“Silence, you vile Black Wolf!”
“Don’t you dare touch my wife!”
Quiel’s rage exploded. He roared in a cruel voice,
“Bring sharpened blades and iron hooks! Heat the tongs in the furnace! Boil sulfur!”
Shaking with fury, he continued,
“We’ll sever his manhood and gouge out his eyes! We’ll carve off his lips and rip out his tongue with the searing tongs! And then we’ll pour boiling sulfur into his gaping mouth!”
Blinded by rage, Quiel was beyond reason.
The Black Wolf’s body must be mutilated—its defiling manhood cut off, the eyes that tainted Cinq’s purity plucked out.
The filthy lips that dared touch hers must be sliced away, and the vile tongue that mingled with her pure one must be pulled out to the root and incinerated.
Ylfus shook his head vigorously.
“You’ve got the wrong person! I’m not the Black Wolf! If you do this, you’ll regret it! The knights of Kalasca are searching for me. They must be nearby. While you’re busy cutting me to bits, they’ll be here in no time!”
“Silence, Black Wolf!”
Ylfus called out to Quiel,
“Listen here, Black Goat!”
At the word goat, Quiel shrieked,
“Call me White Goat! Do not confuse me with the Black Goat!”
Ylfus, noting Quiel’s peculiar fixation, quickly nodded and corrected himself.
“Fine, White Goat!”
He gestured with his chin to his body, covered in scars and wrapped in bandages.
“What do you plan to do to me? I’ll die just from losing a bit of flesh. I may look fine on the outside, but inside, I’m completely rotted through!”
