Felicia Darlac was idling on a corridor in the guest wing of Lady Jamandi Aldori's mansion in Restov, waiting for her significant other to finish getting dressed and join her. The foolhardy but glorious operation against the Noose was now only an embarrassing memory, as were the horns, the tail, the red skin and the scanty clothing. This time, Darlac wore her natural tan, with a light makeup to accentuate her bright eyes, and a flowing beige dress with long sleeves, only allowing the slightest hint at her muscular figure underneath. Her only jewelry were a pair of jade earrings with a matching necklace, the captain's gift for the occasion.
She tried hard to put her mother's words out of her mind. What? Your father died to bring law and order to the Stolen Lands! That land is your rightful heritage, and you just stand by, doing nothing, while others go and snatch it from under your nose? You didn't even show up at Lady Jamandi's recruitment event, however I begged you to! You should have stepped up and claimed what is yours, instead of spreading your legs for some upstart mercenary captain!
The memory of their conversation two hours ago still made her blood boil with indignation. And all because Captain Maegar Varn, soon-to-be Baron of Varnhold and Dunsward, couldn't be bothered to bring a proper outfit to wear at his own inauguration, thinking his dusty travelling clothes would do just fine. Once again, it had been Vice-Captain Darlac's task to fix her superior's mistakes. As she'd had to pay a visit to her mother anyway to pick up a dress from the family wardrobe, she'd decided to borrow an old attire of her late father's as well. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. However, Darlac had paid dearly for those outfits. She'd had to listen to her mother's litany about how she was unworthy of her father, as she'd failed to join any knightly order, like a paladin of Iomedae should do, and similarly failed to gain admittance to any military academy from Brevoy to Lastwall to Cheliax, instead she'd run off to chase wealth and pleasure, just like her good-for-nothing father. Darlac had stopped trying to find consistency or logic in her mother's dissatisfied ramblings long ago, but that didn't make them any less hurtful.
Darlac walked up and down the corridor to calm down, reminding herself to step lightly in her elegant slippers. She immersed herself in contemplation of the paintings hanging on the wall, all so colourful and detailed, and sought out a particular one she'd known from long ago.
The Restovic Righteous. An artwork by Fredero Sinnet based on the sketches of Flavia Santi.
A group of six adventurers stood in the foreground, with a tall, sandy-haired, bearded man in the middle. His angular face bore an aloof expression. He was clad in full plate, polished squeaky clean, his hand resting on the pommel of a longsword, his helmet under his left arm. Felix Darlac, paladin of Iomedae, an impoverished Mendevian nobleman living in Brevoy. On his right stood a black-haired half-elf lady in chainmail, beautiful despite the scars crisscrossing her face. Lady Jamandi Aldori herself, the most important person in the city of Restov. On his left, there was a middle-aged, balding man in an unassuming garb, with a longbow and a full quiver across his back. Father Ezvanki Keegh, priest of Erastil. A sultry tiefling woman peeked out from behind the cleric, in a revealing red silk dress, a demonic flame burning in her eyes. Niraso the sorceress. On Lady Jamandi's other side, a halfling ranger swaggered in a hooded cape, holding a shortbow and the leash of a dog he could even use as a mount. Finly Shadowstalker. Behind him, there was a stern-looking lady in her fifties, still strikingly beautiful, clutching a glaive. Flavia Santi, inquisitor of Shelyn, remarkably talented in the art of drawing (be that drawing pictures or drawing information out of captives). A wild landscape sprawled in the background, rivers flowing between wooded hills into a greenish-blue lake.
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Darlac knew all the names and remembered all the faces from the depths of her childhood twenty years ago. Only two of the six adventurers had returned from their dangerous mission on the Stolen Lands, and her father had not been among them.
I'm sorry I didn't finish your job, Father, she thought. Then again, you probably never expected me to, right?
"He would be so proud of you," said a voice from behind Darlac, and a warm, rough hand touched her shoulder. "As proud as I am."
Darlac turned back, and noted that it had been worth to wait for so long. Captain Varn looked fabulous in her father's dazzling white shirt and black velvet dolman and trousers. The golden earring and the sly smile enhanced the effect even more.
"Wow," she said. "I think I'm falling in love."
"So you say I'm worthy of the attention of the most beautiful lady at the party?"
"I don't know about that. But you definitely have mine. I hope that's something."
"You know, Felicia, sometimes you could just... accept a compliment when you get one?" sighed the captain. "Still, I'm happy you decided for the dress instead of the uniform. There is no harm in showing off your lovely side now and again. Don't worry, I will make it clear to everyone that I could never have earned this opportunity without you. Come, let's meet up with Cephal."
He offered an arm. Darlac took it and fell into step beside him. Tonight, she had to look happy and confident, and now she felt she was actually able to do so. One day, her mother would understand. If half of Darlac's earnings regularly sent home to support her mother couldn't make the old lady accept her daughter's life choices, perhaps Maegar's promotion would do the trick.
They still had a little time before the ceremony began. The three would-be barons were led onto a dais. Darlac and Cephal Lorentus, Captain Varn's old wizard friend, stood at a distance from them, in the first row of the audience. Captain Varn was cheerful and easygoing, like always. Beside him stood a tall and slender elf woman in a heavy, dark green robe, her light brown hair collected in a bun. She carried no visible weapon (except for her pet leopard lounging at her feet), but Darlac could tell she was poised and alert, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd for any sign of danger. On her other side, there was a middle-aged man with a prominent nose and a brooding face, keeping his distance from the other two.
The captain set about forging his first alliance by cracking a joke to the elf lady, who rewarded him with a playful smile. Darlac caught his gaze. He turned to the elf lady again and said something to her, causing her to seek out Darlac with her eyes and smile at her, too. Darlac slightly bowed her head, keeping her face straight, then looked away.
It was funny how the candidates' positions reflected the respective locations of their baronies. Varnhold, to the east, would be closest to the city of Restov, but also the least blessed with resources, a real military frontier state to halt any danger coming from the east or the south. Glenebon, to the west, a bastion against any threat from Numeria, be that invading barbarian tribes or wielders of alien technology, which also meant great opportunities for trade. In the middle, Nightvale, a potentially fertile wilderness including the Outskirts, the Shrike Hills, the Narlmarches, the Kamelands and the neighbourhood of Lake Silverstep. Mostly swamps and forests all over, but with the proper cultivation efforts it could be turned into a little paradise. Three potential allies for Lady Jamandi, in case she decided to make a move against the royal house of Brevoy for her homeland's independence. They would probably have to forge a strong triple alliance to stay afloat. However, Darlac had the feeling that the third guy wouldn't be easy to cooperate with. He seemed to be either a broken man, carrying a heavy burden of the past, or simply an asshole.
Deep in the contemplation of an imaginary map of the Stolen Lands, Darlac jumped as she heard her own name. Captain Varn was smiling at her from the dais, ready to share his glory with her. She walked up and took his hand with a hardly noticeable, self-assured military smile. For a moment, she felt excited and confident about the task ahead. They had made it this far, and they would make it even further. Together.