STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

66. CODDLING CONCERN

"You need more than that," Hillsman chided him.

South pouted, tucking the hairpin needle into his belt instead of putting his hair up. It's his only self-defense weapon. He had to follow the group to Hais Island 5 to track Redika, but this was all the preparation he was doing.

"You know how to use a sword, so why do you never take one?" Hillsman sighed. "I'm sure you have one assigned to you, since you work in the stables."

South huffed.

Sure, yes. For self defense, Henituse butlers always had at least one knife within their sleeve, and Henituse stableworkers had medium-length daggers that could be tucked around their workbelt. Coachmen also had a whip. It was to protect not just themselves, but also important cargo, or their masters when on excursions.

But it tended to get in the way when South wanted to sleep, so South always left the one he had at home. It wasn't even maintained or anything, he just let it collect dust somewhere in the stables. He opted for a long thick needle instead, so he could carry it more easily. It being smaller also meant he could use it for more purposes, like cleaning horse hooves and carving markers on trees and opening provision cans—

—but well, Hillsman was never one to listen to how resourceful South was.

"I'd take a gun if you have one."

"A what now?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," South dismissed, "don't worry, I'll be with Choi Han-ssi and Lady Rosalyn the whole time. The only safer spot on that whole battle is probably beside Raon-nim, you know?"

Hillsman looked like he suspected South would find a way into trouble anyways.

"Besides," South hummed. "Even if I get injured, I won't be for long."

Hillsman groaned, "that part of you is exactly like the young master and that's not a good thing!"

"Okay, okay! I'll take a shovel too. Does that satisfy you?"

"You think I'm a joke? No!" 

-

"Ooh, he's cold!" Witira hugged South like he was a cuddly teddy bear.

"Please don't touch," Cale said, in the same tired nervous way a salesworker would tell children to not climb on the displays in a shopping mall.

Witira hugged closer. South stared at her still-open wounds on her arm from her battle earlier in the day. The bleeding had stopped, but it still felt wrong to touch them.

"Ehhh, I wanted to see the kiddo that Paseton and Archie were ranting about," Witira huffed, "I knew it was your crazy horse boy! I want to bring him home and see him terrorize the rest of the pod!"

"Please don't touch," Cale repeated, a little more strain in his voice.

South, however, had only one important protest: "I'm twenty. Not a kid."

"Okay, Crazy not-kid," Witira teased, "how good are you at swimming?"

"Can I ride on your back in whale form? Please."

"Of course!"

Cale finally blurted, louder than before, "hey, don't touch!"

Meanwhile, the spectating children were just gossiping. As spectating children do among themselves when the almost-adults were not exactly being prime examples of maturity.

"You see," On whispered to Raon and Hong, "Hans told me about it before. People like this are mythical creatures called Animal Whisperers. They're capable of taming all beastkind and thus we should run the other way when we see them."