Sundarr of Savaria was by no means an unintelligent person.

As a self made man born into poverty, he understood the importance of knowledge and education. And while he himself did not have access to a typical educational system, he knew intelligence had many forms.

And he also knew what type of intelligence ruled above all others.

Battle intelligence.

Cunning in warfare and combat.

Why?

Because it went hand in hand with the most powerful force in the world. Because if combat intelligence was an unshakable shield, then strength was an infallible sword. And to wield strength in its purest form, a certain level of combat intelligence was needed.

It was for this reason Sundarr sought to educate himself so earnestly, doing what he could to learn about warfare and the history of the great generals and warriors of Savaria. He also made it a point to travel out to foreign nations, taking note of powerful individuals and their techniques, implementing what he could and stockpiling the rest.

All in the name of strength. Of ambition.

Because on the day the great Sundarr would lead the armies of Savaria into battle, he would fight with a weapon in both hands.

It was also with this knowledge- and a certain degree of animalistic instinct- Sundarr was able to estimate the strength of a person. Such was the difference between life and death. And it was for this reason he knew the grey-man was hardly a threat.

Yet, he kept his blade close.

Because this talent was not infallible.

Because he had been wrong before.

The truly strong- those that stand at the apex of strength and power, had the ability to mask their might. To become indistinguishable from the masses. Sundarr himself had seen it a handful of times though- thankfully, never in combat. But the experience had been deeply unsettling- scarring, that he always tried to look for it.

Even now.

So when the intelligent Sundarr saw a girl- a human girl, arm in sling and leg in cast, peel from the treeline of the largest forest neighbouring the hated city of monsters-

Warning bells rang so hard they were practically shattering in his skull.

---

“Or... um, maybe I have the wrong person?”

Amora bent down, pulling the bouquet of flowers from her mouth as she stared at the scene in front of her.

Three men she had never seen before, dressed in red armour. Two stood tall, swords drawn, while the other clutched at his hand. His lip folded into a snarl.

Amora hobbled forward, straining to drag the heavy sword behind her as she set eyes on Lokt. He stood across from them, back pressed against a tree as he clutched his right arm, blood flowing over blue glove.

“Stand away girl! This individual is highly dangerous!”

Amora turned, frowning at the swordsman closest to her as he motioned her to clear away.

She opened her mouth, turning back to Lokt, meeting his eyes-

And the world paused.

What is going on?

No. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was-

“Lokt.”

Lokt grit his teeth as he hoisted himself up, straightening against the tree. He pushed his hair up with the back of his bloody glove and tilted his head, managing a shaky smile.

“Hello Amora.”

Her back burned with nervous heat as Amora felt the collective attention of the armoured men shift to her.

“Er… need any help?”

---

Amora stared at the silver blade pointed to her and swallowed dryly.

The sword itself looked small in his hands. Strangely harmless- beautiful even, especially under the sunlight. But not even Amora was naive enough to misunderstand the message.

After all, beauty was not always benign.

The forest had shown her that much.

A large man crossed the dirt road, cutting in front of the other swordsmen, cold eyes regarding her not as a fellow human- but as a new threat.

He walked with confidence, thick armour shining with a similar sinister red, bleeding through the gap in his white pelt cloak. Amora’s gaze dropped to the giant grey sword at his side as it caught the light, flashing with a baleful glow.

He lifted his sword-arm.

The grey blade came down fast. Faster than she could react, blade slicing deep into the frozen mud between them. Amora flinched after- the-fact, reeling backwards as the giant man put an arm over the cross-guard.

“You know this monster?”

His hulking figure engulfed her own- even as he leaned over his sword, and the way he looked down at her doused her back in waves of cold panic.

He was… dangerous. Really really dangerous. Visions of the giant bear monster pierced her head. And while his demeanour wasn't entirely antagonistic, she could feel the likeness.

“I-”

“I?”

The man pushed forward, sword shifting further into mud as he watched her gaze move from him.

Amora looked past the giant man, eyes settling on Lokt.

She hadn't known him long. Not in the traditional sense. A few days maybe. But what did that matter? He was the first person she’d met that talked with her. That laughed with her.

Amora watched him push himself up, wobbling dangerously as he clutched his upper arm, his pained expression clear even from far away.

What kind of face was that?

Her back burned as she felt anger stir. It bubbled, far hotter than before, bolting her back straight and feeding into her rage as thoughts of violence swirled.

Hit them.

Fight them.

Sword on sword.

Steel against steel.

Amora opened her mouth as she stared into the giant man, vision flushing a scorching red, molten fury bubbling up her throat.

Blood for blood.

Amora blinked, clamping her mouth shut, smothering words of anger before they could catch alight.

She knew better than that. She knew what happened when she tried to fight.

Bears beat you down while spiders watch on.

Amora looked at her hand. At the sword. And strained against its weight. It was heavy. Too heavy to lift. Especially with one hand. And the hilt had a wetness to it, docile flowers clinging quietly to the hard leather-bound grip.

“I do. He’s my friend.”

Lokt stirred as Amora looked up at the giant man. He reeled backwards, struck by her seemingly detached sense of the word.

“With a monster?!”

---

Wha-?

Lokt stared at the old man and felt the cold edge of his sword at his neck. Was it his Bounty? He was not sure what happened but it was the product of an instant. One moment the man was across the road, and the next…

Lokt tried to sit up and felt the blade bite into him.

A small tear of heat escaped, streaking down the side of his neck.

The message was clear.

And it was in red.

Lokt licked his lips. He was too slow. Too weak. If he made any move, he would be headless. He turned his neck slightly, eyes flicking toward Amora.

She was far from him and he couldn't see her behind the giant man’s figure. He hulked over her, a mountain of red and white, his sword in hand. They seemed to be talking, though he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

But he had heard one sentence.

He is my friend.

She said that.

To an inspector.

That idiot.

Lokt looked back at the silver blade and bit his lip. Perhaps there was still a way. A chance. He edged his gloved hand under his leg and felt it grow heavy, binding his flesh flat.

He swore silently, face twitching as he strained against himself. If this was going to work, he was going to need it.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

For once in your useless existence show yourself and give me strength.

Show yourself you cursed Bounty.

---

A human? With a monster?

So she was one of those people.

A traitor to her own race.

Sundarr gripped his blade, upheaving his sword from the ground, muscles rippling under his armour.

That made her no better than them. No better than an animal. A savage.

And as a Savarian, there was only one way to deal with a creature like that.

Sundarr stared down at the girl, his greatsword in hand, and saw her shrink away.

Such was the difference between the strong and the weak. He was wrong to be wary. His instincts told him she was not one to be feared.

This simple girl. With both sword and flower in one hand.

Sundarr watched her strain against its weight, dragging the sword in front of her, careful not to completely crush the group of wildflowers held at its hilt. She tried to use her other hand but the bandages seemed to restrain her, locking her arm and hardening around her shoulder.

Her blade dropped deeper into mud.

How uncomfortably pathetic.

If she truly wanted to lift the sword to do battle, she would have to hold it tight. It was not something she could do so half-heartedly. Did she not realise such an obvious fact?

He shifted forward, cutting the distance in an instant.

She was wide open. Defenceless.

He was close enough now to take in her expression of fear and terror wholly. Close enough to see the crusted folds of her bandages. The red bumps on her arm. The cuts over her hand. And that smile. That smile.

Expectant but not resigned.

How could someone so absurd exist?

Sundarr paused, eyes widening. This girl. Was she-

---

Lokt watched the giant swordsman tower over Amora as she struggled to lift her sword. He had closed the distance between the two in an instant and was posturing to strike her.

Lokt wavered. The corners of his vision were beginning to darken and cold steel still pressed against his neck.

But it was now or never.

---

The swordsman wasn’t pointing the sword to Amora. But the fact he pulled it from the ground caused cold panic to leak out of her, dousing phoney confidence and folding her posture.

So she can't avoid it after all.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Marching trepidation.

This feeling. This crushing, choking feeling that she felt time and time again-

Was… duller.

And as her heart pounded in her ears and the heat from her back spread up to her neck, it felt almost- exciting.

Amora grit her teeth, lips curling into a feral smile as she gripped the sword with sudden tightness, shoulder sling straining against her.

In that case-

Strike first.

She looked up at the frowning man as he pointed down at her with his offhand.

Was this something she would do? The old Amora?

Is this what she was supposed to do?

Of course it was.

Strong and brave. Smart and kind.

Of course she would’ve helped a friend in need.

“Those. What are those for?”

Amora inhaled loudly, twisting her torso, resting the sword hilt partly on her hip as she heaved it upwards.

“Stop.”

The sword wobbled, half in the air, shoulders dipping dangerously low.

“Stop, girl.”

She took a step forward, expelling air as she swung.

“Answer me. I said stop.”

The man slammed the side of her blade in a blur of grey, effortlessly redirecting her half swing with the side of his hilt. Amora jerked sideways, knees buckling as the sword fell from the air.

“Arrrgh! whoa-”

The heavy sword crashed down as Amora stumbled, slamming into the ground in front of her, and sending a wave of brown rain onto her face and mouth.

“Listen.”

She looked up, spitting muddy hair out of her mouth and saw the huge man’s face wrinkle. His bushy eyebrows creased together, creating a veil of shadow over his bright blue eyes as he pointed down to her hand.

“What are they for, girl? Tell me.”

Amora blinked down, her slick hair dripping over her eyeline. She pulled back the thick screen of brown, wiping her face off with the sleeve of her shirt, and frowned.

“Uhh. Cutting things?”

The giant man snorted, blowing a rush of hot air onto her face as he rolled his eyes.

“No-”

He paused, swallowing his next word audibly.

“Not the sword, girl. Those. The flowers.”

Huh?

Amora’s gaze descended to the cluster of wildflowers she’d spent all morning picking. Colour sagged out from under her grip, bruised petals drooping over her closed fist.

“These are for… Um. To experiment? With my Bounty.”

The man stirred, back straightening as he looked up from her hand and into her eyes. Into that unsettlingly deep swirl of brown.

“Is that so?”

He tilted his head, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“And the monster? How do you know him?”

Amora shrunk back as he swept his white cloak aside to the side and put his hand on his hips. His thick accent tinged each word with a harsh sharpness, serrated words only adding to his intimidating aura. And as he pierced her with ice-blue eyes, the truth slid out.

“I met him in the forest.”

Amora bit her lip.

“He tried to steal from me.”

The man turned to Lokt with a toothy smile, sword-hand twitching forwards.

“And?”

“And then I fed him some snake and he left.”

Amora watched him pause and throw a confused look at his gauntlet. He looked up, still frowning, and slowly sheathed his sword back into the ground by his feet. He seemed… less scary. At least, less scary than he was a moment ago. And he wasn’t radiating the same murderous aura as before.

Did something change?

“Snake hmm… I see.”

“Look, I-I'm not sure what happened but can you please let my friend go?”

The giant man blinked down at her, pulling his pelt cloak over the front of his body as he gave her a knowing smile.

“I… could- let him go, that is.”

Amora opened her mouth, heart fluttering.

“Then-”

He held up a hand, stopping Amora, cutting hope from the sky.

“But we have come from far. As guests. And he- a local, attacked my… acquaintance here. Unprovoked. Do you still think we should just let him go?”

Amora hesitated, looking over at Lokt. He was limp, slumped into the side of a tree, and the other swordsman held a blade to his neck. She bit her lip, swallowing slowly as she closed her eyes.

“...Yes.”

Sundarr jerked backwards, shifting his jaw to the side as he studied her face.

“Unreasonable.”

“-But such is the prerogative of the strong.”

Amora flinched as he slapped the hilt of his sword, boisterous laughter echoing across the area.

Strong?

Amora mouthed the word as he cut his laughter short. He looked at her seriously, air growing heavy, and the mood shifted once more.

“Name. What is your name?”

“A-Amora.”

He nodded, pulling his black moustache absentmindedly as he looked down at her leg and hand.

“I am Sundarr. Of Savaria.”

“Tell me Amora, who did this to you?”

---

Finally.

Lokt took a breath as it flushed through him, coursing through his body.

Another, normal breath.

Only this time he felt it fill himself. A full breath. A perfect breath. One that swept him up, expanding his lungs wholly and flushing through him without pause.

A perfectly normal breath.

Blood pumped through his body. Faster. With blooming resolution, sharpening his vision. He could see the silver sword pressed into him. Each chip and scratch running along its serrated edge.

His neck pulsed against the blade and he could feel more heat escape.

He was now keenly aware of the leakage in his arm. The depth of his wound. The vestiges of nausea and shock that remained. Even his lip, which had healed over from the morning, opened up from perception.

Lokt flexed his gloved fingers.

They were lighter now. More responsive. Blue material bending effortlessly.

No, that wasn't right.

He was stronger now.

And yet, that wasn't quite right either.

He looked up at the swordsman. And gone was fear. Hesitation.

This was a man he could beat.

Why had he ever thought otherwise?

Lokt spread his fingers, tilting his head as more heat escaped.

What an unpleasant feeling.

This certainty.

---

Amora made a noise as Lokt twisted, guillotine snapping down in a flash of cold silver.

“Oww.”

Lokt grit his teeth, shaking his head as the blade pressed into him.

“That. Hurts. You know.”

Amora recoiled, mouth agape as the sword wavered, suspended in the air.

How did he-

Lokt stared down at his hand. At the blade, and the blue fingers lashed across its body. The sword shuddered, and he could feel its sharp edge press into his palm, but it was all but futile. There was no escaping this blue pillory.

He looked at the old swordsman and smiled as he strained against his grip.

“Wha-”

Lokt squeezed his hand, blue fingers biting into the flat of the sword, shattering the blade in a shower of silver shards. The swordsman jumped back, face cut with shock. He jerked a hand forward, bringing his broken blade up-

“Enough.”

Lokt turned as the giant man towered above him. Death. He felt it in his core. A white and red end.

His body screamed to run.

“We are leaving.”

The older man hesitated, broken sword still raised, and turned to Sundarr.

“What did you just say?”

Sundarr looked down at the two and huffed, flinging his pelt cloak to the side as flicked mud from his greatsword.

“I said we are leaving. It was our mistake.”

“Our mista-”

The third man reeled at Sundarr, face red with rage as he stomped up to him. He had been content to let his fellow inspectors handle the situation, watching them from afar- as disarmed men do, but this was not something he could accept.

“He attacked me! I don't know what that girl said to you but he is a monster.”

Amora stepped out from behind Sundarr and put on a strained smile as he snarled at her.

“Silence. Have you forgotten what we came here to do?”

The man grit his teeth, flashing them again at Amora as she pulled back behind Sundarr.

“Have you lost your mind Sundarr? He attacked me!”

Sundarr turned to him and shrugged as he sheathed his sword behind him.

“If you want to continue, so be it. But you'll do it without my help.”

“Sundarr is right. We have wasted too much time. My sword is broken and you don't have yours. We should stop here. Unless you mean to fight barehanded?”

The other man reared at the older swordsman, pointing at him and Sundarr before storming off.

“Cowards. Both of you. And you call yourselves inspectors.”

The older man sighed deeply, tossing his broken blade to the ground as he joined his fellow inspector, withdrawing back to the horses.

Sundarr snorted, rolling his eyes as he watched them both leave.

"Idiots."

Lokt stood silent. He wobbled, legs straining to keep himself standing straight as he tried to push himself off the tree. His vision darkened, Amora stepping out from behind the giant man.

“Um. Thanks Sundarr. We’re uh, we're really sorry about what happened.”

“Pay it no mind. We are bound for Vandryl. And honour and duty compels us to get there as soon as possible.”

Amora made a face, smiling thankfully at Sundarr as he narrowed his eyes.

“You have an issue with Vandryl?”

“What? No. It’s just- they don't really like humans do they?”

“No. No they don’t. But it is different for you, isn't it?”

“What do you mean? Different how?”

He gave her a sly smirk, eyes flicking to the other swordsmen surreptitiously. They were far from them, already saddled and leaving. His face twitched.

“Well, I would assume it would be different for you. Is it not?”

“Uhm. No, I don't think so. They kicked me out. That's why I’m in this forest in the first place.”

“Kicked you-”

His voice caught in his throat, eyes bulging as he looked down at his glove once more.

“Yeah. They’re not nice are they?”

He dipped his head, shifting the leather saddle on horse as he covered a wide grin.

“No. I don't suppose they are.”

Amora watched his horse buckle as Sundarr slid onto its back, sweeping his wiry cloak behind him. He grabbed the reins with one hand, turning back to Amora, and bowed his head.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Amora. We will speak again.”

“Oh the sword-”

Sundarr shook his head.

“Keep it. It’ll teach that fool not to be so easily disarmed.”

He tilted, shifting his gaze and hardening his voice.

“As for you. Be grateful, little monster. Attack us again and- well, don't expect the result to be as… lenient.”

---

“How did you do that?”

Amora shrugged, staring at the plume of dirt and dust kicked up from the horses. She had no idea why they left so quickly. Or why they even left at all. But she had Sundarr to thank for it. He was certainly scary. But he de-escalated everything before it got worse. So that made him a good guy in her eyes.

Amora shuddered. She thought she was going to have to fight him. She couldn’t imagine possibility standing up to someone so dangerous.

The sword he carried was the same size as her after all.

“I-I think he liked my flowers.”

Amora bit her lip as she brought her bundle of blue and yellow flowers up, inspecting them closely.

Oh.

She unclenched her hand and watched their wet stems slide down her palm in a mushy block of green.

So she did crush them.

Amora shook her head. What did that matter?

She turned to Lokt, rushing to his side.

“Your arm!”

She put her hand out and hesitated, hovering over his arm as Lokt wobbled unsteadily, a strange smile at his lips. His entire sleeve was drenched in dark blood, covering his cloak in red.

“This?”

Amora caught Lokt as he fell backwards, gently steadying him as he slumped into the tree. He looked pale, and new lines of dark grey webbed over his face.

Lokt tilted his head, eyes fluttering as cloudy delirium rolled over him.

“I really… should thank… you shouldn’t I?”

Amora opened her mouth as his head lolled back, arm dropping into the mud.

“You saved... me again… Wynn.”

---

Bears? Spiders?

Sundarr didn't understand half of it.

But she was telling the truth. That much he could be certain.

He looked down and put a hand to the cuff of his gauntlet, thumbing the small round orb embedded into the red metal.

Not crazy. But certainly strange. And human as he expected. He didn't think someone so absurd could exist. And perhaps that was precisely the answer.

She didn’t.

Sundarr couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

These idiots probably had no idea why he rushed to leave. Or how close they were to death. He couldn’t believe he almost struck her. She was trying to provoke them. To bait them. That was the only explanation. Why? Was it politics? So the Alliance couldn't fault her for killing inspectors in self defence?

That cunning girl.

If it wasn't for Sundarr's intelligence, it would have turned out far differently.

Strength prevails after all.

The bandage gave it away. One that acts as both a flexible sling and a hardened cast. A flexive compression bandage? No. But that wouldn’t harden. What was it made of then? Relvine?

Just as he thought. That’s-

Not something a random girl would have.

Sundarr shifted in his saddle, kicking forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Perhaps he should have battled her. Letting the monster go had been… distasteful. Especially one as malignant as him. And killing the Witch of Scales was certainly an appealing prospect.

That is- if it was even possible.

But his decision had paid off. He hadn't missed it. His brief exchange with her told him it was possible.

She has problems with Vandryl. Some kind of conflict. But it seemed like she was-

Fracturing.

Sundarr smiled wider.

If he played he played his cards right…

Gold

Knighthood.

Lordship.

It was all possible. Sundarr smothered his smile as he looked to his fellow men conspiratorially. He just had to get through this inspection and be rid of these fools.

Then he’ll make his move.

Sundarr couldn't help but laugh. He slapped the side of his horse and guffawed loudly.

“Sundarr are you well? You’ve been acting strange ever since-”

“Sorry sorry I just thought of something amusing, pay me no mind.”

He smiled slowly, waving his hand at the old man and reeling in his laughter.

Savaria will truly be the standard bearer of this era. That was all but guaranteed. And perhaps with her help, they could speed up the process. Maybe even expand out from the North.

It shouldn't be too hard to turn her away from these monsters after all.

He smiled again as he pictured it. Returning back to the great kingdom of Savaria with her in tow.

A new Witch of Savaria.

---

“Ah there it is. Sirius, the Second Morning.”

“You will be missed.”

King Horus lent over the stone balcony and sighed, brushing back long unkempt silver hair as she looked up into the sky. Her crown sat behind her, furnishing her nightstand. Certainly an extravagant conversation piece.

King Horus didn't exactly dislike wearing her crown. She just simply didn't need it. It just wasn't what gave her power and it wasn't what made her king. She leant against the stone frame, cape flowing behind her in a deep rolling red. A short man stood to her right, impossibly still and silent. A statue of silver armor shrouded in shadow.

“How long will it last?”

The statue came to life, moving to bow as Horus turned to him.

“A long time. Seconds.”

“Quick. How can the death of something so great be so quick?”

Horus looked back out her window. Up at the moon. The stars. All faint against the light of the yellow sun. How many of the generations before her saw the same sky?

And tonight it all changes. A new era.

“Any news of the monsters. Have they made a move yet?”

“Yes. They move always- like little insects. Disgusting. No. No news yet.”

She couldn't help but smile as she heard the man bow behind him. That faint tinny clink of metal. Now there was something she could never get used to. Fane. A man feared throughout the world. Dressed up like some ordinary guard.

“And the mages?”

She spun, dragging her long fingernails across the nightstand. She stopped, hand suspended over her unsuspecting crown.

“Useless brats from Selene. Useful for collecting and transferring energy. They await your command.”

Horus nodded and turned to face Fane. A smile dancing across her lips.

“Then we should go out and greet them. Perhaps… Yes. Tonight, I shall wear my crown. Our guests are deserving of our respect after all.”