Fresh Meat

Author's Note: This one starts a teeny bit darker than many other tales from the Toofyverse. Don't worry, it picks up... But not this chapter.

---

"My dad was a whether! I swear by Green Goddess."

Valai ignored the latest crap from her best friend and stuffed a large green leaf loaded with nuts into her mouth. Rolling it around and tasting the creamy sauce that had been drizzled over it by her very own self.

The two of them were about as different as you could get, among domba. Whilst Valai was highborn, meaning that beneath her white curls her skin was as dark as the night sky, Dolly was a lowborn cud-eater. She was pale as pale can get, especially when she got around to sheering her fleece.

That Dolly really was lowborn, was a source of constant angst for the domba. She was treated poorly by just about everyone, most feeling the need to insult the woman by saying that she didn't know who her father was.

The truth if which, just made things worse.

For such a tribal people, not knowing who your parents were, was a constant source of antagonism that jabbed into Dolly every single day. It made her come up with the most outrageous lies, as she just tried to find a way to fit in.

Valai, on the other hand, didn't have a hope in the void of ever fitting in. Her dark skin screamed that she was royal born in a way that was so distinctive that you could pay a succubus to duplicate it, when you felt like having your way with a princess.

Now and then, when strangers passed through their little spit of farming land, she did get mistaken for one of those. Usually followed by a short and sharp headbutt, with enough force to crack a human skull.

Despite being so obviously royal, Valai shared a lack of knowledge with Dolly. Both of them knew who their mothers were, but neither of them had a single clue who the father was. In Valai's case, it wasn't possible to be anyone who lived in the tiny village.

She was the only highborn domba in the town.

"Valai!"

She glanced at her friend, rolled her jaw, and then gave a meaningless shrug and went back to eating. She'd spent the last three days gathering the ingredients, and she wasn't going to give up a decent feed just because her friend had a new shiny aspect to her justified persecution complex.

Dolly gave a small pout, and then kicked out her legs. Stretching on the picnic rug, and looking down at their quiet village. Glowering at all the other people rushing around and living carefree lives in a way that the two of them simply couldn't.

"Actually I... I think he was human." Dolly whispered shamefully.

Valai choked and regurgitated her food, looking over at the woman, "You actually found something?"

"Love letter. In Common." Dolly whispered, "It... Nothing exactly gets said... But I think... He might have been a trader."

There was no way to confirm that, unfortunately. Domba don't live long. Both their mothers had moved on before they had come of age. A fairly harrowing experience in a town that acted like it was just waiting for you to die.

Love letters were also not a normal thing, for her short-lived people. They didn't make much sense when you only got to live six years after your hormones came barrelling in and made rams actually interesting. Not that it reduced how much of a jerk that they were.

"At least you know he loved her." Valai tried to sound sympathetic, reaching over and squeezing her friend's hand, even as her own heart completely broke.

She'd never found a single trace of her father.

Dolly let out a pathetic bleat and collapsed onto the picnic blanket. Sniffling even as she clung harder to Valai's hand. The dark-skinned domba brushed her friend's hair gently with her other hand, and began to hum their song. A little pointless ditty, that the two of them had always shared.

They'd grown up together, as outsiders. Two sides to the same coin, in a lot of ways. Best friends in a way that no one had ever been able to ruin. There had been a ram, once. That had been a close thing, but eventually Dolly and Valai had sworn off Derby together.

Arrow dodged, in the case of that particular ram. He'd taken his broken heart, and hidden it away behind a battleaxe. Joining the Empress' Guards for a year, before returning to the village as a fully fledged soldier with little tolerance for civilians and living life without an actual goal.

As Valai hummed, the sun in the sky slowly moved, marking the passage of time. Despite how young most domba died, compared to other races, Valai felt no urgency. She never really had. Life was for living, not for the mess of anxiety or fighting challenges you were probably going to lose.

She was happiest when she lay in the field, smelling the daffodils, and eating buttercups. And anyone who thought that was a crap way to live, would get a swift kick between the legs.

---

Valai woke up with a groan and murmur, opening one eye slowly to glare around the dark. A hand quickly went over her mouth, and she found Dolly lying practically on top of her, staring off and looking utterly terrified.

The smell of ash was on the wind, and she could hear the crackle of a bonfire. Her ears tightened and goosebumps popped out on her skin as she heard voices. Ones that she didn't recognise.

Her eyes went wide, and she joined her best friend in staring off into the dark.

There was a whole caravan in the nearby field. A dozen horses and almost as many carriages. All arranged in a neat little circle around which a huge pyre was burning. Entire trees dragged from the nearby forest, cut down and now up in flames.

Around the fire itself were some kind of creatures, but as no more than silhouettes, Valai couldn't tell what they were. As much as she disliked mongrels, she'd do anything for one of their noses, right at this moment. The range of exotics it could be, frightened her.

Even worse, it could be a group of humans. The kind that still went around, believing themselves to own the place. Travellers, because staying in the cities meant being forced to see all the statues to the nekan empress. The Grand Devourer, Toofy herself.

Letting the image of Toofy drift over her mind nearly made Valai bleat in terror.

Beside her, Dolly didn't look like she was doing much better. The domba was ashen, and almost looked like she was trying to peek from behind her hair, as if that would somehow make the scene in front of them less intimidating.

Valai shook off her fear.

One of them needed to take charge, and it wasn't going to be Dolly. She took her friend's hand, and slowly started to creep backwards in the grass. Her foot knocked their picnic basket, and the blanket rubbed at her knees, as she clumsily made her way.

Dolly was even less coordinated, but at least there wasn't anything around to make any noise. They hadn't pulled the glasses out of the basket, or anything like that.

Valai pointed to the fenceline, and as her friend made a dash for it, started to quietly put away their plates. Then with excruciating slowness, she rolled up the picnic blanket, and slipped it under the handle of the basket.

The dark-skinned domba slowly lifted the basket, and then turned to sprint. She let out a hiss of horror, and stared.

Across the way, by the fence, there was a human leaning on the gate and talking to Dolly. She couldn't hear the exchange of words, but she could see her friend's trembling knees as the stranger addressed her.

As much as she hated strangers, Valai wasn't quite as timid as the average domba. If she was, she wouldn't have made it this far in life. So she steeled her gut, and walked towards the pair with an air suggesting that everything was fine and normal and she didn't mind meeting strangers under a starless night sky.

"Hey, Dolly. Who's this?"

The man started, standing and reaching for something hidden behind his back, before relaxing. "Whoa. Didn't see you there. Sorry."

"He says... He's from the Cult of Ba'al." Dolly half-whispered. "They all are. A travelling church..."

Valai frowned, "Ba'al? Isn't that just the elfin word for dark god? Like... Demon?"

"An educated one." The man smiled and nodded, "But you're essentially right. We embrace all the dark gods. After the war, it's clear that the Betrayer Gods weren't really the bad guys that we thought they were. But worshipping those never brought anything good. The dark gods offer deals, though. An exchange. They don't treat us mortals like dirt."

She'd heard about freaks like these.

The ratatta were known for worshipping the dark gods, too. However, even they didn't like the human cults springing up and adopting their gods. Said the newcomers never bothered to learn the history. Just made it up as they went along, pretending that they knew what the dark gods really wanted.

This human was friendly, but that was the point. Cults are still made up of people, and there's nothing friendlier than a person who thinks that they've got all of life solved. They think they've got a cure and want to share it with you. Didn't matter if they worshipped all gods, no gods, or your aunt's god.

All of them wanted to tell you how to make your life better, when the only thing that Valai really wanted was some nice cud, a warm blanket, and to be able to feel like someone cared about her.

She glared at him openly, "This isn't public land."

"Oh, we got permission from Lady Peip." The man smiled, "She's even letting us put a fair on, tomorrow. You should come. See us in the daylight, when we're not just dropping out of the sky on you."

Valai rolled her jaw, "Let's go, Dolly."

"We have a soothsayer, if you change your mind."

The two domba paused midstride, and turned to look at the human very intently. He shrugged, "She did say we'd meet a couple of sheepgirls. Opposites, but intertwined. That it'll be the turning point for all of us. Exiles of the clan. One, a daughter of a merchant, the other destined to change history."

Valai bleated out a laugh, "Keep talking, pickpocket."

"Both virgins, though one about to lose it to love. The other will sacrifice hers to the gods." The man didn't take her sarcasm, "Magic, like not seen since the days of the divine wars, will be seen. Unleashed by selfless sacrifice."

Dolly stared, "What else...?"

"Don't listen to him!" Valai protested, "He's just another human bastard!"

"He knows my father was a trader!"

She rolled her eyes, "He knows we're outcasts, is what! The rest is just guesswork. He's a con artist."

"I swear by the void, I wasn't lying." The man shook his head, "But I'm not the soothsayer. Come to the fair, tomorrow. She'll want to meet you."

"No thanks." Valai growled.

"There'll be no charge. She'll want to make the two of you, our guests of honour. Feasts, songs, the works. Still sound like a con?"

Valai silently herded Dolly down a little ways, and then over the fence. Getting a disturbing feeling that she'd be forced to go to the fair tomorrow, just to stop the gullible domba from getting suckered by these weirdos. Sometimes being Dolly's friend was exhausting.

The freak was still watching them, when Valai glanced back.

---

She woke up with a start, heart hammering in her chest.

Valai whipped her head around when she heard a clattering of armour, and jumped off her pillow to scramble over to a dirty window in her tiny attic apartment. Looking down into the street, it was her nightmare made reality.

Soldiers were blocking off both ends of the road, whilst a couple high and mighty types stood around. Laughing and joking as they waited to be told that the area had been secured, before banging on her door.

She could see the warlock with them, too. A silent and brooding witch, off to the side with no one nearby. The village elf, everyone knew that one, and knew to run the other way anytime she headed down the street. She never paid at any of the stalls, and gods forbid you actually get in her way.

Lady Peip technically owned the ground beneath the entire village. She also didn't have a single kind bone in her magic-infused body. Valai had seen the witch burn a grandpa to a crisp with lightning, because the hard-hearing man had dared to ask the witch to repeat what she'd said to him.

The window opened swiftly.

Valai crept out onto the roof, not interested in confirming if she was really the one that they were after. She leaned on one hand, as she carefully made her way across the thatch. Stepping as silently as she knew how, avoiding the weaker bundles of straw.

"Valai de Riveranda!" A deep voice proclaimed.

She flinched, and looked over her shoulder to see the armoured ram standing up on the thatch, having leapt. Drawing his sword, Derby pointed the blade in her direction, smiling grimly in anticipation, "Take another step."

She bleated her surrender and put both hands up in the air.

Derby sighed and sheathed his blade, before crossing to her, grabbing her by the back of the neck, and then making her scream by lightly jumping down to the ground.

He shoved her to her knees, as she was still reeling with the fact he could jump to and from roof height like it was nothing.

"Do you have a family name, sheep?"

She flinched at the female voice, light and musical. Swallowing, she shook her head silently, not daring to look up at the elf that was addressing her. Hoping the timidity wasn't about to get her killed.

"Riveranda will have to do, then." The elf said with more than a hint of exasperation, "Hmm. She's skinnier than I thought. The clothes won't fit. Little more than a bag of bones. Take her to the tailor."

Derby grabbed her by her curled hair, and wrenched her to her feet, making her squeal in pain. He ignored her, shoving her forward to walk down the dusty road. The dark skinned woman felt like she was being led to her death, as other guards formed up behind them, and the more regal people fell into step behind her as well.

Valai steadied her breathing, trying not to look for a quick exit. These were not the kinds of people that you could afford to run from. Not if you ever wanted to stop running.

"Tailor." Derby barked from her shoulder.

She kept her head low, and her movements small, as she turned into a shop that she'd never been into. Want kind of fatherless domba could afford to get hand-tailored clothing? She made all of her own.

"Sir Derby, good morning. Ah, and Lady Peip, always a pleasure to serve." The human said stiffly, bowing in turn to each of them. "Lord Riveranda! I don't believe I've ever had the privilege to soothe your fashion sensibilities, m'lord."

"You still don't." The man replied gruffly, "We're here for the sheep. Are you sure all this is necessary, Lady Peip?"

"Entirely." She replied drily.

The tailor bowed, "Of course. What fits m'lord's and m'lady's, fancy?"

"We need the sheepgirl to look acceptable. As impossible as it is, she will be representing the region, and should reflect our own high standing. Make her look as royal as her blood claims." Lady Peip said sourly.

Valai's heartrate went through the roof, deafening her. She still knew better to ask for details, but something... Weird... Was happening.

In her experience, as little of that there was, told her that people who got caught up in strangeness inevitably ended up dead.

"Derby. Have we found how Lord Marius discovered the name of this one, yet?" Lord Riveranda asked tiredly, as the tailor shuffled Valai onto a nearby circular step.

The man shoved her chin upwards, making her look around the room as if she belonged, and wasn't just a toy to these people. Which meant she saw a flash of caution cross the ram's face, before he answered slowly, "Not... As such, m'lord. Valai is mostly associated with another woman, a commoner of the same age. Dolly, by name. Her heritage is also uncertain. However, I did find one hint as to Valai's own heritage, m'lord. A carving that was left in a basket, with her, when she was a lamb."

"An abandoned child." Lady Peip said in shock, "That... May explain quite a few things. The carving, where is it?"

"The town hall, m'lady." Derby bowed his head, "The language used was Ritualised Dombastic. An uncommon tongue, that is extremely difficult. Lady Anne was attempting to decipher it, when I came to assist you, m'lady."

"Dombastic. A thousand different variations, each more esoteric than the last." Lady Peip said in annoyance.

Lord Riveranda rubbed his chin, "I don't suppose it used any Common elements? Anything we can guess, from the carving?"

"It used Common lettering. I am not certain to the pronunciation, but... Wedi ei eni i farw... Mae ei gwaed yn felltigedig... Wedi ei Valai." Derby stumbled over the words, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to remember.

"Tigedig?" Lady Peip asked.

Derby nodded slowly, "Felltigedig, yes. I am confident that is it."

"That, if I recall at all, means cursed." Lady Peip looked over at Valai curiously. "Well. I think we can safely say that those who abandoned her, did not have any love lost for the child. They weren't sparing her from some royal love scandal."

Valai's bottom lip quivered, but she kept the tears at bay. How in the void had this happened to her, and no one had bothered to tell her? Her mother... Wasn't her real mother? She was an abandoned orphan? Yet no one told her.

No one.

The tailor made a noise of irritation, lifting her arms to measure at her armpits. Inappropriately tickling her so that she wanted to laugh, even as she was right on the cusp of flooding down a lifetime of confused hurt.

The lord looked at Valai carefully, eyes drifting down from her face and making her skin crawl. He lingered far too long on her breasts, hips, and for some reason, her ankles. Thankfully, he didn't seem the type to stare at the fluff ball that was her tail.

"I am Lord Aston de Riveranda. This place, is mine." He stated fiercely, raising an eyebrow at her, as if he was looking for a fight. With a domba. She knew what her people were known for, and it was not fighting back.

Valai gave a nervous swallow, and a tiny inclination of her head.

"Do you speak any Dombastic?"

She shook her head, "No, m'lord. Only Common."

It was a straight up lie. She spoke more languages than she had fingers. It wasn't something that she entirely understood, but Valai could listen to someone in a pub for five minutes, and then turn around and sound like a fluent native. She could even pickup the unspoken languages of pickpockets and the like.

However, she'd learnt that most people reacted poorly to the idea that you could always understand them. Everyone liked to be able to have a private conversation, and insult the dumb sheepgirl that they were going to take for a ride.

"Well... My little Commoner..." He insulted her casually, "Perhaps you can explain why I was presented with a missive at sun up, today, from Lord Marius de Oen, that said in no uncertain terms that you would be in my party and attend Lord Oen's celebration this evening. Or he would wipe the whole of Riveranda from the face of this world."

She bleated in shock, "W-what!?"

"Indeed." Riveranda glared at her, "I can think of few explanations, and fewer that cast you in a good light. So, you will be representing all of us, today. There is no choice in it. I'd prefer to kill and bury you, and forget the whole thing. But I cannot. So... You will act like a lady, and if you don't impress, the entire village dies."

Valai felt herself tremble, as the lord and lady in front of her changed from her enemies, into the only allies she had in a bitter world.

She annoyed the tailor by flinching, before nervously whispering, "Who is Lord Oen, if I may ask, m'lord?"

"A warlord, of a kind." Lady Peip answered steadily, "He is currently touring his lands. Reminding the upper classes that they owe him their loyalty. Lord Oen was appointed by Empress Toofy, which has put him into an uncomfortable position with the new empress."