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Cynn Numair, ruler of Aetheri Woods was still little more than an eft, back then, the borders of his land just simply too large for him to fortify it all as needed.
He was well acquainted with the various ways his forebears had chosen to protect the borders, his predecessor having compiled and mused much on the topic. Deadly borders against dangerous borders.
“Deadly” borders, after all, were only good against humans who lacked the proper senses, which had no effect on the monsters who thought they might nab some space from a young ruler. Any creature with any awareness of magic could sidestep the effects of a ley line, and in turn, avoid Numair’s attention just a bit longer.
Dangerous borders, on the other hand, used less arduous ley lines that could be simily unreliable in their tricks. Ebbing and flowing with the sunlight, the rain, the season, Numair’s attention. A human that returns is lucky to tell the tale, and can warn others.
But these lines had their faults, as much as Numair leaned on them to discourage human growth.
In the periods of respite against protecting his territory, Numair walked his borders, guided by the magnetism of magic under his feet. Where the guidance weakened, so too did the ley lines.
Numair’s eyes fluttered open as what he perceived as a weak spot dropped to something barely discernible. It took several blinks at what was ahead for him to identify it and the accompanying weight in his stomach.
It had been a theoretical risk in Rhys’ notes. If you are not constantly feeding a ley line to keep it strong, there is a risk that it will wither and die out of sight. And, if the wrong card is drawn, something unsavory might grow in the crack.
A human might build a little hut, right in your blind spot.
Numair touched the broach on his cape, eyes shutting again as he took several grounding breaths. The world spun as his body shifted to something closer to human. Feet ached, easily distracted, with eyes sensitive to the light while also dulled to the shadows. He would be clumsy, more vulnerable, but if he changed to something bigger, scarier—he would still feel the undesirable effects of shape changing, magnified several times over. Reconnaissance, not an attack.
There were other humans in this area, were there not? Numair’s feet drifted north, and yes, the river he expected was there, signs of a road on the opposite bank. There would be no convenient way to cross the river to access the road from the hut, and settling next to a road was an odd choice for a hermit. Numair retreated into the trees where he was less visible to any passersby as he continued closer to the hut.
Several trees had to be felled in the area, Numair noted. Both for the lumber and to create a space behind the hut. A small border was marked, river stone, wood, river stone, wood. Numair stepped up onto one such piece of wood, a round section of a branch, and found his arms pinwheeling to keep his balance.
“Whoa, hey!”
Numair stumbled off the wood, cheeks heating up as he looked up at the human coming around the corner of the hut, bucket in hand. The human, the reason he was here. “Hello,” Numair said, bereft of anything else to say.
The human was likely slightly more of an adult than Numair was, with black hair growing along his jawline. He held a tin bucket in one hand as if he was ready to swing it. “Who are you?”
“Uh,” Numair said. That wasn’t a question he could answer honestly, nor was there a particularly convincing lie at hand. “I’m just a traveller.”
The human does not look very convinced. “Right. I don’t want any trouble. Just—” Something moved behind the human, catching the corner of his eye. An arm shot out just as a skinny human child scampered next to him, catching the scruff of the child’s shirt, holding him close. The child stumbled, turning and—oh, maybe not a child, but a nestling, wings with sparse pinfeathers sprouting from his back.
“Ah,” Numair tilted his head, looking from the nestling to the human. “That is why you live here.”
“Yeah.” The nestling squirmed in the human’s grasp, making some high pitched protest. “Minding our own business.”
Numair looked towards the river, the road, only to find himself staring into the hut’s window, rough shelving holding pots opposite him. “Is this safe? I’m aware that we are quite a distance from your Citadel, but knights still make it this far.”
The human shrugged, something loosening in his posture, even as he kept the nestling close. “Hawk ain’t hurting nobody. So many monsters crawling about they have bigger fish to fry. Hopefully by the time the knights worry about him he’ll be old enough to disappear into the woods for a couple days.”
Numair raised his eyebrows. “Is that safe?”
“No, but you learn the tricks it plays on you,” The human let out a little laugh. “I’d rather bet on the forest than the Crown.”
Well then. There was a mix of feelings here. Numair was annoyed at the consequences of leaving this border out of mind, this human colonizing its own section and learning the ley line’s tricks. Contradictingly, there was a sort of affection for this human, because surely this was the most courageous way forward. A coward would simply abandon such a child in the woods, throw it from a boat or…imitate a knight. A human like this had sympathy for monsters and a distrust for their government.
Could Numair use that? Not immediately, no. But perhaps, someday, a human intermediary could find its uses. There were other subjects in Aetheri Woods, beastly and monstrous alike. No humans, though. If this one seemed especially prone to industrialization or gathered a community around it, Numair might be forced to change his mind.
Numair bounced on his feet, the ground hard and plants itchy beneath him. Picking his words carefully, Numair began, “There are monsters in these woods, just because he is not human does not mean they would not snatch him.”
“I know.” He adjusts his grip on the nestling, so he’s holding it’s hand instead.
“I hope the knights cause you no ruckus.” Numair looked from the humans to over his shoulder, where he could catch a glimpse of the river and the road. “I’ll let you be.”
“Okay,” The human replied, a lingering wariness still in his voice. “You…travel safely.”
Numair turned and stepped back into Aetheri Woods. There was still a gap in his defenses that needed to be remedied. He’d have to put more thought into the ley lines in this area to accommodate the humans. Humming to himself, Numair glanced back at the human before letting his shape fall back to his usual, more comfortable form.