As much as she did want to talk to Timur, Frances couldn’t until the evening, when they set up camp and she’d completed the magical contract for Epomonia and Aloudin, who’d volunteered. The wariness of Aloudin’s soldiers made the casting quite uncomfortable, but then again, Frances knew that she was scowling, over doing a horrible job trying to hide her feelings.
Returning to the tent she shared with Timur, she found him sitting, knees bent, muttering to himself so quickly his mouth seemed to be moving in a blur.
“WhatdoIdo?Francesmustbemad,butsheisn’t?Isshe?WhatdoIdoaboutEpomonia?WhydoIfeelsoworriedaboutherbutisthatcheatingonFrancesoramIjustbeingnormal?Whydidshedothis—”
Frances took a deep breath, “Timur!”
The trogre started and looked up, eyes wide. “Oh, Frances, um, sorry. I should have listened to you about the clothing. You were right, I messed up—”
Frances raised her right hand. “Timur, stop. What do you mean about the clothes?”
The prince bowed his head. “If… if I hadn’t been so disorganized about my clothing we wouldn’t have been found out.”
Frances blinked. “Oh, that. I honestly forgot about that. It… it was my fault anyway for not checking.”
“I would have complained, though,” said Timur.
It was true, but Frances wasn’t ready to admit that. She still felt that she should have caught the mistake. “Maybe, but I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here because of Epomonia and Aloudin.”
“I know. I… I’m sorry.” The prince swallowed. “Frances, I swear. Epomonia and I are over. I… I mean I do care about her but I love you and—”
“Timur, just stop!” She immediately regretted how harsh she sounded, and the wide-eyed look that came over Timur’s features. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Frances crossed her arms. “Timur, can you just let me explain what I need to talk to you about?”
The prince opened his mouth, closed it and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
Frances sighed and sat down in front of Timur, her arms still crossed. “Look, there’s nothing you need to apologize about. I just need to know why you decided to let Aloudin, Epomonia, and their squad join us.”
Timur frowned. “Aloudin was loyal to my brother. As for Epomonia… I trust her.”
Frances’s eyes widened. “Timur, Epominia is a self-confessed murderer.”
“But she’s sorry for it,” Timur stammered.
“So what? She still killed non combatants! She had a choice to say no, to be a good person,” Frances growled.
“She was forced to kill them!” Timur retorted.
“And? When Earl Darius ordered me, Martin and Elizabeth to help break open Kwent to be pillaged, did I let him do that? Did I kill Alavari prisoners?” Frances demanded.
Timur pointed at the Alavari camp. “Then what was that out there? Why did you almost hurt Epomonia!”
“Because people who hurt children deserve nothing but death!” Frances hissed.
“And does that extend to your own parents?” Timur bellowed.
“Yes!”
Timur’s jaw dropped open and Frances slowly realized that he was staring at her with horror. Oddly enough, she just felt… tired, and sad that she just told her boyfriend this.
“But… they’re your parents. They gave birth to you,” Timur stammered. “I mean… I know they’re absolutely horrible, and I don’t expect you to want to see them ever again, but you… you really want them dead?”
“If it weren’t for them then I would have been a normal child. I could have been happy. And not this… wreck,” Frances cried. Wiping her eyes, she groaned. “I’m sorry. I… I could be wrong, but I can’t understand why you can trust Epomonia and Aloudin. Not after she admitted to have done that. And how do you even know that Aloudin is telling you the truth?”
Timur’s eyes widened, “Shit. Oh shit you’re right. We need to—”
“Wait no! I… I think you were right in the end.” Frances winced as Timur blinked at her, tail twitching side to side.
“I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“I know. I… look, I think Aloudin at least is sincere, he wouldn’t have decided to take the magical contract if he wasn’t.” She sighed. “I just don’t know how… you could just trust him and Epomonia like that.”
“It just… well it just felt right,” said Timur. He shrugged. “I’m sorry I don’t have a better explanation. I… I know it seemed dangerous from your perspective and I understand why. I just… I’m sorry.”
“Timur, I’m…” Frances wiped her eyes. “You don’t need to say sorry. It’s just… I don’t understand why you still trust Epomonia despite everything she’s done?” Frances held Timur’s wide-eyed gaze. “Timur, I’m not worried about you having feelings for her. I know you love me, but I don’t understand what about your relationship with Epomonia excuses her for killing children.”
Her prince frowned. “Frances, I am angry at her for killing those children. I haven’t forgotten that.”
Frances blinked. “You… you haven’t?”
“I will be talking to her the moment I get a chance to and I… at least I don’t think I’m brushing it over. I just think that she’s genuinely sorry for what she’s done and would do anything to atone for it,” Timur said.
Frances closed her eyes, her mind processing what her boyfriend had said, and how it just seemed to click. It made sense, just like his explanation for why he’d trusted Jane the healer.
Except when Frances had met both people, she’d almost fired spells at them, in Epomonia’s case, she’d very nearly killed the centaur on the spot.
She’d nearly killed someone who wanted to make up for her mistakes.
Maybe… maybe Timur wasn’t wrong after all. No, he hadn’t been wrong in both cases. He’d made judgements that were hard to follow, that had been risky, that had been completely based on his instincts. And yet, they’d both worked. At least, that seemed to be the case.
Shaking her head, she stared at Timur, all the words she had been thinking of frozen in her throat.
Was she the one who was messed up? Why did she immediately think of violence so quickly? When had she started to resort to killing so quickly?
“Frances?” Timur asked. He reached over and gently touched her wrist. “Mataia?”
“I’m fine. What… what does Mataia mean?” Frances asked.
“Oh, it’s an Alavari word that… has a couple of meanings,” Timur blushed. “It best translates “dear one” or “adored one,” but it really means “the one who holds my heart to their own.””
Frances blinked. She could feel her own cheeks warm, and her own eyes fill with tears. She just felt so drained and tired. The frustration was long gone, and filling it was a cold and bitter pain.
“Oh. I… I like that. Timur, thank you for… for listening and not… and for stopping me from hurting Epomonia,” said Frances.
“You’re… you’re welcome.” Timur smiled with some relief. “Thank you for… for understanding, and for trusting me.”
“I almost didn’t,” Frances rested her head on her knees, not letting go of her boyfriend’s hand. “I… I don’t know, Timur. Maybe I had good reasons at the time, but I was so… so quick to fight, and it was just so easy to get angry. I know something’s wrong with me, but I can’t tell what.”
Timur shuffled closer, and raised his hand over her head. At her nod, he slowly began to stroke her hair. She very nearly closed her eyes. She didn’t like people touching her head, but Timur’s touch was soothing, and he didn’t try to tangle her hair. It felt kind of like a warm comb.
“Maybe, but… we’ll get through it, Frances,” he said, flashing her a smile. In a hesitant tone, Timur asked, “Though, if you don’t mind me asking, Frances, why do you always cut yourself down?”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep saying something’s wrong with you, and that you aren’t normal because of your parents. I mean, it’s kind of true, but you…well…” Timur pursed his lips, opened and closed his mouth as he struggled to find the right word. If the conversation wasn’t so serious, Frames would have found it rather comical. As it was, his flashing expressions kept her attention, until he let out a sigh.
“Why is being normal so important to you?” Timur asked, smile fading slightly.
Frances blinked. “I wouldn’t be the mess I am if I was a normal girl.”
“But you wouldn’t be you, though. You’re you, because of what your parents did, because of what happened to you.” Timur winced and stammered, “I’m not happy that your parents hit you, but I—well, the thing is… I love you because you’re you. And while I hate that your parents hit you, you wouldn’t be you, if it didn't happen.”
She still didn’t understand what her boyfriend was getting at. No, she wouldn’t be who she was if her parents hadn’t hit her. But what happened to her was horrible. She hated it, and everybody, including her boyfriend, was telling her she was right to hate it.
And yet, there was something that seemed sincere in what Timur said and… at least he still loved her, even if she was not normal.
“I… I don’t understand what you mean, Timur, but… thank you. I… I’m really glad you’re my boyfriend,” Frances whispered, squeezing his hand.
Timur smiled, and brought the hand in his fingers to his lips. Warmth blossomed in her heart as he kissed her knuckles.
“And I’m glad you’re my girlfriend too, Frances,” he said.
----------------------------------------
The next morning was awkward to say the least. At first, the party rode down the road, studiously ignoring one another.
However, Frances’s natural curiosity on why Aloudin and his squad had defected and Timur’s desire to reconnect with Epomonia, soon won out.
“Every member of my squad is conscripted and are also orphans to boot. They’re also the survivors of a year of intense fighting in Roranoak and any notions of this war being just have been disabused by Epomonia’s account,” Aloudin said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Sitting at the back of the cart, leaning against the edge so she could talk to the troll, Frances glanced at the soldiers following them. They were young, younger than her in fact
“All of them are orphans?” Frances asked.
One of the trolls behind Aloudin piped up, “King Thorgod created a number of orphanages that took us in after our parents died. They were crap but most of us knew it was better than living on the streets. Of course, we were the ones who got conscripted first.”
“Thorgod?” Frances asked.
“Because he’s got the attitude of one and is just as big as a prick,” shouted an ogre.
Frances nodded, smiling nonchalantly. “Oh. I just call him an asshole, or the asshole. Not in front of Timur of course.”
“I heard that!” Timur called back in a merry tone. Frances blushed and buried her face in her hands as the squad laughed. Even Epomonia near the front giggled.
“So, you and the prince eh?” Aloudin asked, grinning.
Frances crossed her arms. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business. Why did you defect?” she countered.
She’d said that rather sharply, but Aloudin didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looked almost wistful.
“I was a fairly new Royal Guard when Teutobal was killed, but even then, he and Lady Neria always treated their contingent well and did their best to foster a sense of comradeship. The guards assigned to Teutobal weren’t just Royal Guards, we were all brothers and sisters with the common goal of protecting him at all cost.” Aloudin sighed. “He represented Alavaria’s best hope, and… his father killed him.”
“I’m… surprised you believe us,” said Frances slowly.
“Something never seemed right about the ship’s sinking. How did all three ships sink when the weather, while bad, sank nothing other than those three ships? I and some other of the surviving Royal Guards kept looking into it and slowly, we kept getting promoted out.” Aloudin’s expression darkened. “Then when Titania announced it and showed her the recordings from Allaniel and Teutobal, I began looking, so to speak.”
Frances nodded, smiling a little. It was good to know what her friends had done had made an impact.
“Why are you and Prince Timur in Alavaria?” Aloudin asked.
Frances considered the orc’s question, and most of all, how to answer it.
“We fled into Alavaria after the peace conference failed. I was staying behind to delay King Thorgoth while Timur was helping me to escape.”
“Why not run into Lapanteria?” Aloudin asked.
“Thorgoth had a wing of cavalry on standby. There wouldn’t be a way for me and Timur to outrun them if I was staying to hold Thorgoth off,” said Frances.
Aloudin nodded, but his eyes still studied her. He didn’t believe her. Was he annoyed that she didn’t trust him?
“There is another reason why you’re so deep in Alavaria,” the captain said.
“Yes,” said Frances simply, meeting the orc’s judging eyes.
“Have you considered that we might be able to help you, Stormcaller?” Aloudin asked. “You have worked with other Alavari before. Your paramour is an Alavari prince.”
“I have not lived for this long, expecting to trust strangers we met on the road,” said Frances. She pursed her lips. “Give me a moment.”
Clambering past her supplies, Frances swung her legs over the cart seat so she was sitting next to Timur. He had been chatting animatedly with Epomonia, who noticeably paled and fell silent as Frances approached.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Hello Epomonia,” said Frances. She hesitated, took a quick breath, and then kissed Timur on the cheek. Her prince blinked several times a brief goofy smile across his face.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked.
Frances eyed Epomonia. She wasn’t jealous of the centaur. But… something about having her so near Timur made her want to send her a message. “Timur, I have my thoughts on this, but I need to ask you. Do you think we should tell Aloudin about what we are going to the Alavari Academy of Magic for?”
The trogre’s smile faded into a pensive frown. Frances blinked and glanced at her boyfriend’s tale, which was swaying slightly. Timur was giving her question his full attention and taking serious thought.
“I trust Aloudin and Epomonia, Frances, but do you trust them?” he asked.
Taken aback, Frances found herself trying to hide the surprise spreading across her face.
“Timur, I think I am a bit biased against them.” She winced, looking at the still worried-looking centaur trotting beside them, “I’m sorry, Epomonia. I… I don’t have any excuse for this.”
“No. I think you have good reasons. This… this is very strange for me too,” Epomonia stammered.
Frances blinked and forced herself to smile. “Maybe, but… I’ve been quite rude.” Breathing out, she turned to Timur. “I don’t know if I trust them completely, but I trust them enough.”
“In that case, Captain Aloudin!” Timur called.
Aloudin rode up on the other side of the cart. “Yes, Your Highness?”
Timur took a deep breath. “You were wondering what we were in Alavaria for. You see, before Frances engaged my father in a duel on Delbarria, my father threatened to kill my niece, Morgan, my brother Teutobal’s only daughter. We’re heading to the Alavaria Academy of Magic to get her out of there.”
Frances could see the color drain from Aloudin’s green face. Epomonia’s eyes widened. “Wait, not little Morgan? But… she’s his granddaughter!”
“He doesn’t care,” said Frances, her jaw set in a grim line. “We sent Olgakaren, General Berengaria’s daughter, to try to guard her. Nobody knows that Olgakaren is working for us, and so we’re hoping she can keep Morgan safe until we can retrieve her.”
“Then we have no time to waste. The Alavaria Academy of Magic is not what it used to be. It would be all too easy to make an attempt on Morgan’s life there,” said Aloudin.
Frances wasn’t sure what the orc meant, but she didn’t like how Timur’s voice suddenly pitched up.
“What do you mean? The Academy’s one of the most heavily guarded sites in Alavaria and it’s fiercely proud of it’s neutrality,” Timur stammered.
“The war’s stripped the Academy of most of its most experienced mages. It will try to remain neutral, but the Academy’s stance against the king’s oppression of half-human Alavari have earned Thorgoth’s ire,” said Aloudin.
“Wait, the Academy tolerates half-humans?” Frances asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Most of the mages that remain at the Academy do and have been trying to keep them and their families safe. Those that don’t—Well, you’ve been fighting those mages,” said Aloudin matter-of-factly.
“If that’s the case, we need to get to Morgan as quickly as possible. Which means…” The prince groaned. “We’ll have to take the Great Southern Road.”
“The Great Southern Road?” Frances asked, the unfamiliar words rolling off her tongue.
Aloudin nodded. “It would be risky, but it’s for the best.”
Epomonia piped up, “The Great Southern Road is a road that cuts across Alavaria from West to East. It’s one of two huge roads that links some of our largest cities, and so is one of the busiest roads in Alavaria.” The centaur winced. “Because of this, it’s also heavily patrolled. So it’d cut our travel time to the Academy, but we’ll risk being discovered.”
Frances sighed, “Well, we don’t have a choice do we? How bad is it?”
----------------------------------------
Frances didn’t think she’d ever see the equivalent to a highway on Earth on Durannon until she saw the Great Southern Road. It was actually two roads side by side, with each road wide enough to accommodate three full-sized wagons each.
Paved with smooth stone and with water ditches running off to the side, the road stretched on and on, cutting through forest, over ditches and rivers. There were even sections where tunnels or ditches were carved into hills to maintain a straight path. It was a juggernaut of a construction that would stand up to the spiralling mountain-roads of Erisdale.
And similar to Earth’s highways, it was filled with Alavari. Wagons and slow moving foot traffic took up the left lanes, whilst fast-running horses charged down the rightmost. Small inns and halfway houses stood off the Great Road’s sides, providing shelter for the nights.
Most alarming to Frances however, groups of soldiers in Alavari purple patrolled amongst the citizens. They did random checks on cargo, pulled civilians and merchants over, and generally, made Frances rather nervous.
The first time they were pulled over, so to speak, Frances had been forced to just hold onto her wand and let Ivy’s Sting calm her down. They’d agreed that Frances needed to lay low in the cart. As good as her disguise was, they didn’t want her to be searched and if someone did notice her, they could say she was sleeping or resting.
Of course, she didn’t actually get a wink of rest or sleep. From under the cover of her blanket she watched Aloudin talk to the guards who after a short discussion, let them pass.
They did that again, and again. The cover story they were using was taken from Aloudin’s original mission. His squad had been on patrol in Nairolen and now he was leading his patrol back to their home base, an army encampment along the Great South Road.
After the tenth time, Frances just relaxed, well, almost. She was beyond relieved that once every encounter was over, Timur clambered back into the cart and asked if she was alright. She only hugged him a few times, trying to release the tension she felt. Honestly she felt she should have hugged him more, but she didn’t want to, not with everybody else from Aloudin’s squad around.
To make better time, and to avoid as much contact with other Alavari as possible, they didn’t use the halfway houses, but camped along the side of the highway.
The weather however, wasn’t cooperating. Not only was it getting colder, but just under a day out from reaching the Academy for Magic, it started to pour.
The grey sky first started to drizzle. Then it got bad enough that Frances started pulling out spare rain cloaks to give out to Timur and the members in Aloudin’s squad. Towards the end of the day the horses were battling against a gale that was blasting in their faces.
“We need to get to a halfway house!” Frances cried out.
“I’m with you on that!” Timur hissed, one hand trying to keep a soggy scarf in front of his face.
Epomonia, leading the column with her much larger body acting as a windbreaker, pointed into the distance. “There’s one ahead! Hurry!” she yelled
Frances had no idea how the centaur had spotted it, but a two-story building with a terrace stood in the distance. Shelter lending speed to their pace, they got to the half-way house and trotted into the gate.
The building was square, and had a small courtyard with a covered stable inside. It was near full, but a wet and miserable goblin stablehand found spaces for their horse and cart and took their coin.
Inside, a harried, but smiling troll innkeeper took more of their coin and showed them their rooms and where to get food. She eyed Frances for a moment longer than the human was comfortable with, but didn’t ask any questions.
“Half-breeds aren’t very common,” Aloudin mentioned as an explanation as they sat down at a table in the halfway house’s lounge room. It was the largest in the building. A mess of chipped tables and creaky chairs sported travellers chatting, eating, or nursing tankards and glass mugs.
“Your disguise is still good,” Timur whispered. He jokingly poked Frances’s fake ear, which made her make a face and then grin. Her prince stabbed his fork into his beef stew and offered a cut of meat to Frances. She bit down and chewed, cheeks flushing as she realized what she’d done. She’d gotten too used to Timur feeding her when her arms had still been broken.
“How are there so many people still on the roads?” Frances whispered, trying to distract Epomonia and Aloudin, who were looking at her with amusement.
“Well, if Erisdale’s strength is in the resources found it its mountains. Lapanteria’s power is in its cotton fields and river banks. Roranoak’s power comes from its flat wheat plains; commerce is the lifeblood of Alavaria,” said Timur. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a little leather-bound book Frances had seen her boyfriend scribbling in here and there. Flipping the pages, the trogre pointed at a hand-drawn map of Alavaria.
“Alavaria sports every kind of resource imaginable, except for a few, but they’re scattered across our kingdom. The task of every ruler has been to tie the different species and provinces together. From what I know, the Great Roads have always existed, but King Theodric, the founder of the Greyhammer Dynasty was the one who started the project of improving them to this extent. Maintaining these commercial links has traditionally been the best way of maintaining our kingdom’s unity,” Timur explained.
“Then… why fight the humans?” Epomonia asked in a quiet voice. “I mean, you know what the nobles and the bards and singers say. We’re fighting this war to protect our kingdom and to stop them from tearing us apart.”
Timur’s expression darkened, his smile falling from his face. “It’s… easier to blame someone outside for our problems,” the prince explained.
Gently wrapping her hand around her prince’s arm, Frances squeezed.
“We’ll get through this,” she whispered.
Timur smiled at Frances for a moment, and as if by unspoken agreement, they all turned back to their food. A harpy and goblin singer-musician pair had started a ballad of some kind. Frances and Timur didn’t really pay attention to the lyrics. They were tired and hungry. The chatter and music all faded to the background as they savored the herbs and tomato flavor of the stew.
Just as Frances wiped her mouth, a harsh voice cut through this noise.
“How could you think that Titania should be queen!”
Heads turned and Frances saw an male ogre glaring up at a female centaur.
“Oi! No politics in the inn!” hissed the troll innkeeper, one hand brandishing a short, thick stick.
“Oh screw that. The entire lot of Alavaria’s at each other’s throats,” hissed the ogre. He stood up, worn hands on his hips. “Come on. What has Thorgoth done for us but feed our children and our family to the grinder? Every year singers like them keep saying we’re winning, but it’s been four long years and only one of the human kingdoms have signed a peace!”
“Thorgoth is our rightful king and you’re a traitor!” hissed the centaur. “He ended the Strife and he’s our king! Titania’s a rogue assassin!”
A good number of cheers sounded from around the inn, much to the dismay of the innkeeper and the silent apprehension of Frances, Timur and their party. Not everybody supported the centaur, though.
“Then why would General Antigones rebel with her? He’s righteous and one of our greatest heroes,” demanded a goblin.
“Oh well he is fucking her. She just seduced him!” hissed an orc.
“You take those words back!” bellowed another orc.
“I heard that Titania has the true crown of King Alan!” cried a harpy.
“It has to be a fake! Her father has it!” retorted a troll.
Frances clenched her teeth and turned to Timur. The trogre’s lips were pressed in a thin line, his fists clenched as he watched the chaotic debate rage around them. His tail, at least the uninjured bottom half, flicked anxiously.
He wanted to speak. He badly wanted to speak.
The problem was that Frances also wanted to encourage him, and she had no idea if that was the best idea.
“Thorgoth murdered his father!”
“That’s a lie!”
“The recording was everywhere! Every lord witnessed it!”
“Then why aren’t the folk choosing her?”
“Because the king’s got his cronies in his pockets! Why do you think taxes have gone up so high? Why do you think the best of our sons and daughters are conscripted!”
“Doesn’t mean that Titania should usurp her father! She ought to wait her turn!”
“What and end up dead like Prince Teutobal? Thorgoth killed his son! He murdered his own son! What kind of Alavari does that?” bellowed the troll innkeeper, having finally lost her temper.
“How could you believe that rumor! After all the king’s done for us! Have you forgotten the years of peace after the Strife?” the centaur who started the argument screamed. She trotted up to the troll, pointing her finger at the innkeeper. “Besides, at least Thorgoth has it right with the humans! They need to be put in their place.”
“Put in their place? He could have just talked to them! He had the chance to talk to them and he threw it all away with an act of insane treachery!” Timur bellowed, springing to his feet.
Frances blinked, and watched as eyes turned to the trogre. Timur was frozen, his mouth ajar, staring at the room with horror.
He stood, silent, paralyzed with doubt and fear. Suddenly alone.
That couldn’t stand. Frances rose to her feet, and placed her hand on her love’s shoulder. When he looked at her, an apology on his lips, she smiled and nodded once.
She wasn’t sure if Timur could see the understanding reflected in her expression, or the fact that she was going to support him no matter what he did. Whatever he saw, caused a confident, almost mischievous smile to light up across his features.
Timur turned back to the crowd. “Let’s face the facts. Bread prices have risen. The roads are falling into disrepair. Towns are being raided. We hear stories of our armies losing our honor on the battlefield and off the battlefield when they massacre innocent civilians.” The prince faced the centaur. “We may not be losing the war, but we sure aren’t winning it. And what does Thorgoth do? What does the vaunted ‘King’ Thorgoth do? What does he do when he could have given our country time to recover, could have struck an honorable peace without giving up much?”
There were murmurs amidst the crowd, and even those who had cried out in support of the king seemed hesitant.
“King Thorgoth betrayed our honor. He tried to murder people at a peace conference. Now the human kingdoms are never going to trust us! He broke a truce. He hid an army at a peace conference and tried to kill the delegates! If he was really a good king, an honorable king, he would have re-declared war, not try to ambush them.” Timur looked around the inn, one hand sweeping around the room. “If he was a king who cared about his people, he would have dragged the talks out to give us time to recover. If he was a king who cared about Alavaria, he would have bit his pride and made peace for our sake. Because this war has been horrible to our country.”
“He was trying to kill the Stormcaller and the Firehand! Those monsters that have plagued our armies! Who murdered hundreds of our folk!” retorted a goblin.
Timur glanced at Frances meaningfully before turning to the goblin. “And guess what, he failed! Not only did he sacrifice our honor, but he couldn’t even finish the job himself!” The prince sauntered to the goblin. “Besides, when have you heard of the Stormcaller and Firehand killing a civilian or a prisoner? Their mercy and honor are legendary. They’ve only ever killed soldiers who were also trying to kill them. ”
“Here here! The Stormcaller and her battalion liberated those poor half-breeds in that camp!” yelled an ogre.
“Does she not have a troll cousin? The daughter of Allaniel the Valorous?” asked a harpy.
“Lies!” the centaur lady hissed. “All lies! You are all lying! King Thorgoth is… is honorable. Is fair and…”
“He murdered his own son and concubine!” a goblin exclaimed.
Timur raised both his hands and took a deep breath. Then, he did something that puzzled Frances.
He approached the furious centaur, hands open, and at his sides. “Milady, I know this must be hard to accept, and no, I don’t believe I could sway you tonight. After all, I don’t have evidence of my own in my hand, but can you at least try to see what Titania’s supporters are fighting for?”
The centaur grimaced. “I’m no lady. I’m just a loyal servant of Alavaria, with a husband and two sons at war for the king’s armies.”
“And I am too, but I support m—Queen Titania, the rightful queen of Alavaria, acknowledged by Whitey, the crown of King Alan.” Timur turned around to the crowd. “For tonight, though, I just want to rest and shelter from the storm with my Alavarian brothers and sisters with my dear love. If you have a problem with that, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Here here!” was muttered by a number of people in the crowd.
Except, out in the corner of Frances’s eye, she spied a squad of soldiers standing up, hands reaching to their daggers and swords. They’d sat quietly through the debate, but now they moved in concert.
“You support the rebel bitch, Titania?” hissed the guard, a troll.
Timur arched an eyebrow, and fixed the guards with a look that Frances could only describe as sheer exasperation.
“Yes, but right now, there’s a raging storm outside, a lot people who could get hurt in a confrontation and—”
“You’re under arrest in the King’s name!” bellowed the troll. He lunged, Timur, hands raised, danced right out of his reach. Before Frances could slam the guard into the wall, the prince raised his hand towards her.
Timur, eyes narrowed hissed, “Sir, you’re going to get someone killed—”
“New royal orders you moron, and the King’s orders are absolute! Traitors die on the spot. No trial required!” the guard pointed at the ogre who’d initially spoken up. “You lot are lucky. You didn’t declare your support. He did and he dies tonight.”
“Wait, hold on. Every Alavaria has a right to a trial,” stammered the centaur lady.
“Traitors don’t, not anymore,” growled the orc guard following the troll, stepping past tables with wide-eyed occupants.
There was an audible groan and eyes once more turned to Timur, who’d buried his forehead in a hand. “And how would you figure out if I’m a traitor or just muttering lamb’s ass?”
“Muttering lamb’s ass?” Frances asked Aloudin.
“Saying nonsense,” hissed Aloudin, the orc captain was coiled like a snake about to spring, hand on his wand, which was hidden underneath his jacket.
The guard shrugged. “That isn’t for us to worry about. We just find them and kill them.”
“And what about everybody here?” Timur snarled. “If we fight, someone’s going to get hurt!”
Some of the members of the squad looked unsure, but the head guard merely shrugged. “So? We have the King’s orders behind us. Besides, if anybody does get hurt, it’s their fault for not getting out of the way.” The guard lunged again.
Aloudin moved, but Frances had already ripped the head guard back, slamming him into the ground. Before his orc companion could turn to face her, she’d cursed him to slam into the wall behind him. Timur rushed the third soldier, knocking him out with a one-two punch. Aloudin was holding back another soldier with a Word of Power while Epomonia practically flew across the room and bucked another into the ceiling. The others in Aloudin’s squad were just behind her, surrounding the remaining guards, who were dropping their weapons.
Somehow, though, the head guard struggled back to his feet and charged at Timur, swinging his sword wildly. Timur froze. To Frances’s horror, she could see that behind Timur was a family of ogres. Two fathers and their son. They were frozen, eyes wide in panic as the guard charged. If Timur moved, the harpies were going to get hit.
She didn’t even think. She wasn’t fully recovered, yet despite the ache in her throat, the note she uttered was true. A thin fork of lightning flashed across the inn, the boom of thunder deafening the room. The guard convulsed, the sword dropping from his grasp. Timur caught the blade mid-air before it even scratched the floor and using the pommel smote the head guard on the head, knocking him to the ground.
“Thank you dear!” Timur exclaimed, beaming brightly.
His smile was infectious and Frances beamed. “You’re welcome.” Sheathing her wand and noting the unconscious guards, she asked, “What are we going to do with them?”
“Leave him to me and my children. I know their commander. Loyal to Thorgoth or not, he’ll set them straight,” said the innkeeper. “Thanks for the help master?”
“Theo, and my wife, Tia,” said Timur affably.
“Well then Master Theo and Tia, have a mug on me,” said one of the ogres, pouring Timur a drink from the pitcher of ale on the table. Despite Timur’s protests he pressed the mug into the trogre’s hand.
It went like that for most of the night. Frances and Timur being toasted several times, and having to for politeness sake, drink the mugs they were offered. By the time they managed to excuse themselves from the main room, they were both leaning on each other as they staggered up toward their rooms.
“You did good there,” said Frances, her speech slurred by alcohol.
“Thanks! I didn’t—hic—expect you to agree,” Timur stammered. “Thanks.”
Frances grinned and squeezed her prince. “You were right to speak up.” She blinked as her boyfriend suddenly repositioned himself. “Wait, Timur, what are you—eep!”
Timur hoisted her up in both arms in what she could only describe as a bridal carry. He shook at the strain, but whether out of drunken strength or sheer ecstasy, he staggered towards their room.
Practically kicking open their room’s door, he made it to their shared bed and dropped the laughing Frances into it.
“What were you thinking!” she cried.
Crawling on the floor, Timur grabbed onto the bedframe. “Always wanted to try that!”
“You’re incorrigible,” Frances giggled. Still, she helped Timur up onto the bed and rolled into his arms. “Night my prince.”
“Goodnight, Frances,” Timur yawned.