The Drunken Shaman
Two ears sprouted from the top of her head.
Two human ears sat on the sides.
And four magnificently curved horns had been neatly trimmed and polished so they wouldn't get in the way.
What made her unusual was her anatomy. While most beastmen in the brigade had human limbs, Satyrs only had human hands; their legs were those of a goat.
Her well-groomed hooves were wrapped in thick leather shoes designed for easy walking.
Why was I suddenly describing a Satyr's appearance in such detail?
Because I had been staring at her for quite some time, utterly dumbfounded. Despite costing me two hundred crowns—a fortune for any commoner—she was currently sprawled on the floor, fast asleep and dead drunk.
"Well... we'll let her go since Lady Hybel asked, and we were paid in full. But let me warn you, there's no greater folly than showing kindness to a Satyr. Those creatures are born drunkards. And shameless? You wouldn't believe it. She won't even say thank you."
Hybel gently wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the complaining madam—who usually provided male escorts for the brothel—and ushered her out of the room.
"Thank you, Lina. We'll take it from here. Sorry for the trouble with such a difficult customer."
"I only kept her around because she could cure syphilis, but there's a limit. She's absolutely obsessed with booze and sex. Take her with you, Lady Hybel, or dump her on the street. I can't keep her here any longer. I'm sick to death of her!"
"I understand. We'll handle it. Thank you."
Once the rabbit beastman named Lina left the room, I let out a sigh and looked down at the Satyr, who showed no signs of waking.
"Bring me a bucket of water. I'll have to drench her to wake her up."
"Right away, Commander."
While Hybel went to fetch the water, Kka-Chi scanned the surroundings before slipping into the shadows.
He reappeared a moment later and nodded. It seemed there were no humans or beastmen eavesdropping.
"Here is the water."
I took the water Hybel brought and dumped it straight over the Satyr's head.
Drenched in the freezing water, she bolted upright with a comical shriek.
"No, darlings! I was just resting my eyes for a second... Huh? What? Where am I?"
Shaking her head to fling off the water, the Satyr stared at me. A peculiar look crossed her face, and she ran her tongue over her lips.
"Oho! Looks like the madam sent me someone new! You've got a nice, sturdy build. I like it. Your face is... a bit lacking, but hey, you look manly enough. You're not charging the full twelve crowns an hour, are you? Make it five."
Watching the Satyr babble in her drunken stupor, I sighed and channeled a surge of powerful magic.
Concentrating the mana at my fingertips, I pressed them against her forehead. She shuddered violently before collapsing back onto the bed behind her.
"Whoa, that woke me right up. Are you a mage?"
"Take a closer look at my uniform and my face. It would be absurd for a beastman not to recognize me."
The Satyr shook her head to clear the fog and looked up at me.
Only then did her eyes widen.
"Major General Volka Adrakin?"
"Yes, I am Volka Adrakin. You ought to cut back on the drinking."
"Ahahaha! Well, this is embarrassing! How unsightly of me."
The Satyr blushed.
"Let's introduce ourselves. You know who I am, but what is your name?"
"Chouka! Please call me Chouka. I'm quite the famous doctor and fortune-teller among my people! As you know, we goat beastmen aren't much for physical labor, but we're excellent at working with our hands and healing."
"You seem to have lived as a shaman for a long time."
"Of course! I have quite the reputation. I cure syphilis in the brothels, treat prostitutes with STDs, and get fed and drunk in return. That's how I get by. I'm a great singer, too."
I glanced at Kka-Chi again.
He nodded, indicating she could be trusted.
I lowered my posture and stepped closer to Chouka.
"I spent two hundred crowns to bail you out. I don't want to be repaid in money."
My voice was serious, but Chouka seemed to interpret it in a slightly different way.
"Ahaha! I see. So even the Major General is just a man after all. I understand. Do you want a blowjob? Or a handjob? A titjob is good too. Or we can just go straight to fucking. I don't know if you know this, but goat pussies are much tighter than human women's. Shepherds have been fucking them since ancient times..."
"No! That is not what I meant!"
Chouka looked down at her own body at my outburst.
"But my body is pretty great, isn't it? I've got big tits, and people tell me I'm very pretty. My waist is slim, and my hips are wide enough for easy childbearing. I don't know which one it was, but a mage I slept with once told me my pelvis looked like I could squeeze out a baby as easily as taking a shit..."
"Please, Chouka! That is not what I want to talk about. Listen to me. What I want from you is not your body, but your knowledge."
"Ahaha! You should have said so from the start! What do you want to know? I'll tell you everything I can. Two hundred crowns is no small sum, after all!"
I leaned in close to Chouka and lowered my voice to a whisper.
"Since your clan is well-versed in shamanism, I'm asking in case you might know. Keep your voice down. Have you ever heard of the Crow Brotherhood?"
The moment the words left my mouth, Chouka's goofy, airheaded expression vanished.
It was as if she had swapped personalities. Her face hardened into a deadly serious look.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Can you promise not to speak of this to anyone else? If you let this slip, I might have to kill you."
"I swear on my horns and the two fun holes down below. I will never let it slip. So please, tell me the truth. This is extremely important to me."
Her phrasing was crude, but swearing on her nether regions suggested she wasn't lying.
So, I told her the truth.
"They are the ones who may have killed my brother and sister-in-law—the former Grand Duke and Duchess of Adrakin. The name was written in code in my sister-in-law's diary."
Chouka's eyes began to tremble at my words.
She tapped her foot anxiously.
Her gaze darted around erratically before she suddenly froze.
"Swear to me, Commander. Swear that you will never repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone."
"I have already shared one of my greatest secrets with you. I will keep yours. I swear it on the beastmen under my command and the name of Adrakin."
"Very well. I can trust that. Even my clan knows very little about the Crow Brotherhood. During the early days of the Empire, the first Emperor slaughtered almost everyone who possessed knowledge of them. That is why there are no records of them left in the Empire."
"But your clan knows?"
"We were wanderers, a bunch of nomadic drunkards with severe wanderlust. Because of that, certain rumors were passed down through our generations. It is one of the greatest secrets—and fears—of the goat beastmen."
"Who are they? What do they do?"
"They are also known as the Worshippers of the Old Things, or the Seekers of the Twisted Eye. They are those who delve into forbidden ancient arts."
My eyes narrowed.
"Are they some kind of mages or shamans?"
"Neither. They worship things we cannot comprehend, and they wield powers that should never be touched. They are extremely dangerous, Commander."
"Why would such people be in the North? And why were they connected to my brother and sister-in-law?"
"I do not know. My clan is in the dark about most of it as well."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
What the hell is going on?
The Crow Brotherhood. The Old Things.
None of this had ever been mentioned in the original romance fantasy novel.
The six-year war caused by the massive surge of demonic beasts. The increasingly frequent invasions from the Northern Magic Realm. The Crow Brotherhood, and the deaths of my brother and his wife.
It felt like... it felt like they were all connected.
Yet, I had no idea how to piece these puzzle fragments together.
As I closed my eyes, lost in thought, Chouka suddenly stood up with a respectful demeanor and looked up at me.
"Take me to the North. Actually, I will send letters to all of my people and tell them to come to the North as well. We all need to go there."
"Why?"
"There is an ancient prophecy. Every goat beastman who makes a living as a fortune-teller knows it. It says that the followers of the crow will one day drag our souls into an abyss of eternal suffering. And that we must burn our bodies and minds to stop the calamity."
Chouka tapped her ample chest.
"Bringing my people will be useful to you. You can use us as medics, or as dancers and singers to boost morale. Or, you know, you could just use us as the brigade's official cum dumps..."
"No! No! That's enough! Please. We don't need you for that."
I stared at Chouka.
Goat beastmen. To be frank, their combat capabilities were... non-existent.
When the Hellhound Brigade was first formed and the combat potential of the Empire's various beastmen was evaluated, the Satyrs were the first to be excluded.
They were laid-back, airheaded, drunken wanderers who possessed neither the temperament nor the physical traits suited for battle—not to mention their excessively high sex drives.
There had been a brief suggestion to use them as medics, but it was rejected because no one knew what side effects their non-magical, unstandardized shamanic arts might cause.
As I pondered how they could possibly be of use in the North, a sudden thought crossed my mind.
"You said you're a fortune-teller, a doctor, and a shaman, right?"
"Haha! Yes! I can also dance, sing, and drink like a fish."
"Then you must be good at talking. I've heard fortune-tellers need to be silver-tongued."
"Oh, I'm great at it. Making people cry with just a few words and sweet-talking my way into free drinks is my specialty."
"What kind of shamanism and healing can you perform? Tell me in detail."
"Well, I can do this."
Chouka channeled her mana.
A energy distinctly different from a mage's flared around her body.
Instead of the blue mana commonly used by mages and knights, a clean, vibrant green mana swirled around her before she placed her hand on my chest.
Instantly, the tension drained from my body. The fatigue and stress that had kept me wound tight melted away, leaving me completely relaxed.
"It's a shamanic art that stabilizes the body and purges harmful, evil things. I can detect and cure early-stage syphilis, treat simple colds, or soothe those with broken minds. We're naturally gifted at that sort of thing."
The Satyr grinned.
As I looked at Chouka, the smile on my face widened.
"You said you wanted to come to the North, right?"
"Yes, I must. This is the first time those crow bastards have shown their tails. We don't have a choice."
"Good. Since you're coming anyway, you might as well dedicate yourself to serving the North. What you need to do is simple. Just treat the sick, and use your silver tongue to comfort their aching hearts."
"Hahaha! There's nothing I'm better at. Who is the patient?"
Indeed, you never know where life will take you.
To think the solution to recruiting mages would present itself in such an unexpected place.
"Mages. There are mages in the Magic Tower whose bodies and minds are broken. I want you to take charge of their treatment. Do that, and I'll bring you to the North, give you a warm room, and let you eat and drink to your heart's content without ever worrying about money. How does that sound?"
Chouka's eyes sparkled at my offer.
"Do I get men too?"
"...That might be a bit difficult."
"Don't worry too much about that. I'll seduce and eat them up myself. Just provide the booze, food, and a soft bed."
Chouka grinned, her expression as airheaded as ever.
I felt a bit uneasy, but what did it matter?
In an era with absolutely no data on PTSD, the creature standing before me was the only one capable of offering anything resembling treatment.
"I'll bring you a patient who needs treatment this evening. If you can cure him, I'll hire your entire clan."
"Hooray! I was actually curious about what Northern men taste like in bed!"
"..."
"Oh, don't worry about STDs or infections. We make sure to disinfect and give enemas before we do anything."
Is it really okay to hire these people?
Suppressing the worry that was beginning to creep in, I headed straight back to the Golden Magic Tower.
The best way to draw in those broken mages wasn't money, honor, or superior magical knowledge and environments.
What they needed was healing.