Swift Bat#

In shadows deep, the bat guai lies, Far from clamor, under the skies. In moonlit hues, blood it sips, As through yellow wind, it slips.

After the harvest, the rentman arrived in the village. The villagers cleaned a long-abandoned manor for his stay and treated him to a sumptuous feast. Full from food and drink, the village chief spoke directly, "The rent is a heavy burden on us. Is there any possibility to reduce it?" The rent collector replied, "The rent has been determined by your lord. I'm but a paid man tasked with taking what is due. I have no power to change it."

The talk turned into an unending argument. As dusk approached, the villagers hastily left. An old widower lingered, offering a suggestion to the rentman, "Our village offers little amusement, but on that hill, there's a pavilion fine for moon gazing. Should you grow weary, 'tis a place to ease your mind." With these words, he too departed.

That night, the rentman, lantern in hand, pondered his ledgers and the days of disputes ahead. Seeking solace, he walked toward the pavilion. But as he stepped into the courtyard, a figure descended with wings of flesh, claws for hands, and a maw of pointed teeth. Terrified, he fled, only to be ambushed by a similar creature lurking in the trees. The bat guais squabbled over him for the first bite, chittering and chattering. Seeing them locked in a stalemate, the rentman drew a blade from his belt and beheaded one. The other sprang, fangs bared towards him, but he dodged it with a struggled roll. That night, the rentman and the bat dogfought, fangs and blade clashed until dawn.

Come morning, villagers come to the manor to prepare the rentman his morning meal, only to find him sitting by the door, a blade at his side, pinning two headless bat corpses to the earth. In the days that followed, they paid their full rent and hosted another rich feast, sending the rentman back to the town with due respect.