Jones stepped back a little, giving the female werewolf enough space to move.
The female werewolf finally placed both feet outside the cage, her eyes filled with wariness as she stared at Jones. The magical sigils on the shackles shimmered faintly in the firelight.
After a standoff lasting a moment, Jones turned his head to Dora and said, "Go to Father’s study and see if there are any books on Barbarian language."
"Understood, Lord Jones." Dora turned and left.
The door was wide open, but the female werewolf made no attempt to flee. Instead, she continued to watch Jones warily with wide eyes.
"Are you hungry? I have something here, though it might not taste very good." Jones stepped forward with a plate holding clean water and a serving of roasted venison, placed it in front of the female werewolf, and then backed away again.
Zombies, though they need to eat meat, lack a sense of taste. Therefore, while the castle had venison, there were no appropriate seasonings for it. However, the werewolf didn’t seem to mind.
After cautiously testing a few bites, she squatted down and devoured the venison voraciously, as if starving.
Jones squatted nearby, quietly watching.
After some time, Dora finally returned holding a book. "Lord Jones, this is the only one I could find."
The cover of the book had the words "Barbarian Language" written prominently in Blood Clan script.
Taking the book, Jones lowered his head and flipped it open.
It was a reference book, appearing to be several centuries old and somewhat tattered. Despite that, it was still usable.
Consulting the text for what he wanted to say, Jones scribbled down notes and quickly pieced together a pronunciation in the Barbarian language. Then, he spoke softly in Barbarian, "Hello, I’m Jones, a member of the Blood Clan. I mean you no harm. I saved you from Adelle, so you shouldn’t harbor any ill intent toward me. Adelle is the Blood Clan member who stood beside me in the arena."
After speaking, Jones quietly observed the female werewolf.
The female werewolf seemed to understand. She froze for a moment, still with meat in her mouth, staring blankly at Jones.
Confirming that she had understood, Jones continued speaking in Barbarian, "You must resent me. You may think I ruined your chance at freedom. But in truth, you could never have obtained freedom. They were planning to kill you in the third match. Their promises were never meant to be kept."
The female werewolf quickly swallowed the meat in her mouth and said something in Barbarian.
Unfortunately, Jones couldn’t translate it. The book’s design allowed the Blood Clan to easily translate their language into Barbarian, but translating Barbarian into the common tongue was much harder. Unless one had already learned most of the Barbarian language and remembered its awkward pronunciations, translating was nearly impossible.
After flipping through the book for a long time, Jones still couldn’t translate the werewolf’s words. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he flipped to another part of the book and said, "I can’t translate what you just said, but I’m certain you understand me. They sent you to me as a slave, but I don’t intend to keep you as one. I want to give you your freedom. Of course, this will take time. Once we trust each other, I’ll remove the shackles from you. You can go wherever you want, and I can help you get there. After all, this is the Blood Clan Peninsula. If I were to release you now, you’d be captured again very quickly. Do you agree to this?"
The female werewolf dumbly nodded her head.
"Good. Then I now declare that you’re free to move about the castle. Have Dora help you take a bath and change into fresh clothes. What’s your name?"
The female werewolf hesitated for a moment before softly speaking two syllables: "Goya."
Two syllables were easy to look up. Jones quickly found the meaning of "Goya" in the book—"A pure soul, a common name for females among the Barbarian Clan."
"Communication complete." This sentence, Jones spoke in the common tongue, wiping the sweat from his brow. Speaking while constantly referencing a dictionary was an exhausting task. Particularly when Jones had a lot to say, which meant having to look up countless words. Regardless, the communication was finally a success—at least, that’s what Jones believed. "Take her to bathe and get her some fresh clothes."
"Alright! I’ll grab some of my mother’s clothes for her!" Dora replied cheerfully.
The werewolf’s gaze wandered, dazed, between Dora and Jones.
"Dora thought Lord Jones would simply release her outright."
"That’s something Gray would do. I wouldn’t. Even if I’m not afraid, I have to think about what would happen if she attacked my family. Keep a close eye on her for me."
With that, Jones shut the lid of his coffin.
The Blood Clan, like humans, need rest. The only difference is that they need slightly less—about three hours a day is sufficient. They are also vulnerable to sunlight.
Thus, the Blood Clan’s sleeping hours are usually during the day. Of course, they can also live like humans and become "night owls." When Jones and Dora stayed at Salted Fish Port, they were two perfect examples of "night owls."
However, most of the Blood Clan’s subordinates are capable of daytime activities—for instance, zombies.
The castle of the Jones family was unaffected by the concept of day and night. In contrast, Hilde had distinct periods for both. At night, it was bustling with Blood Clan activity; during the day, an entire army of zombies guarded the place. While zombies are not particularly intelligent, their overwhelming numbers are more than enough to be a deterrent.
After a heavy sleep, Jones awoke, and by then, it was already time for dinner. If not for the prospect of dinner, Jones probably wouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed. All he wanted now was to leave this place as soon as possible and return to "his" Salted Fish Port. He suddenly found himself missing the days of rushing between battlefields amidst the war between Gray and the Dragon Clan.