Baroness Guelder returned to the throne room to check on her leopard, content with a job well done. She had an almost complete, operational government. Now it was time to retreat and take the rest of the day for herself.

Her futile attempts to wake Pangur and remove him from the throne were interrupted by a pair of guards escorting in Anoriel Eight Eyes and another elf in camouflage clothing.

"Contractual delivery, Your Grace," reported the Pathfinder, a little more sober than usual. "Let me introduce Hazel, your new ranger mercenary."

"At your service, Baroness," said the other elf, uncovering their face and bowing their head.

Guelder froze for a moment, but quickly recovered from the surprise. She was purposefully training herself not to show too much emotion in front of her subjects.

"Do I have to sign anything?"

"Oh, yes, please. Here, here and here."

"There you go," she muttered, making a mental note to get herself a signet ring, the sooner, the better. The coat of arms decorating the entrance of the throne room would do nicely. Two leopards facing each other, standing on top of an antlered stag skull and holding up a headband (not quite a crown, but almost). Sadly, she hadn't been able to memorise the relevant heraldry lingo to sound more professional.

She tossed a pouch full of gold coins to Anoriel, who caught it mid-air. Her reflexes were still surprisingly good, especially when it came to collecting payment.

"Three months warranty, Your Grace."

"Great. Thanks for your service, Anoriel. Take care."

After the recruiter departed, Guelder turned to Hazel with a mischievous little smile.

"Welcome to Nightvale, Hazel. Here. Your copy of the contract."

Now that there were just the two of them, they embraced each other. Yes, it was indeed her long-lost friend who had once found her in the woodlands and got her to safety. Hazel squeezed her hard to their chest, even lifting her up a little, then took her by the shoulders to look her over.

"Here you are, a baroness," they said, beaming. "You must tell me everything, immediately!"

"Let us go have a drink, then," she said, furtively dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. The unexpected encounter made her tear up with joy.

They left the throne room, did a tour around the capital, and ended up in The Beer Mug Inn to share memories over a pint of cider. Guelder went for the unfermented version. She didn't really need intoxication to chat with an old friend for hours on end.

As the two elves stepped out of the inn, the full moon shone down on them from the peak of its glory. Their eyes met for a long moment, and their gaze said the same.

Oh, damn.

Hazel put an arm around Guelder's waist, grabbed her belt, and set out towards the palace in a hurry, half leading, half dragging her along, skirting loose beams and heaps of building material.

"How could you forget it?" they growled through clenched teeth.

"Was too happy to see you," muttered Guelder, struggling to keep control of her shaking body.

After the longest ten minutes of Hazel's life, they arrived at the half-built palace, and faced the daunting task of passing through the guards. Guelder made a heroic effort to radiate a nonchalant air of self-assurance.

"Attention!" she yelled, drawing herself up to her full height.

The pair of guards snapped to attention without delay.

"What are you looking at? Have you never seen a ruler exhausted from setting up her government?... I thought so. Oh, and meet Hazel. New member of the field team. I am unavailable for the rest of the night."

"Yes, ma'am!" exclaimed the guards in unison. They had the decency not to turn their heads after the baroness and her companion, so they couldn't see her knees give out. Anyway, they probably thought she was drunk and the fun was about to continue in her bedchamber. Hazel dragged her through the throne room, up to the door that led to her private quarters, and directed her hand to the keyhole.

Once inside, she collapsed, writhing in agony.

"Your medication?"

"Too late," she wailed. "Just leash me and go!"

"Leash you?"

With her last strength, Guelder crawled to the corner behind her bed, where a silver chain hung from the wall, attached to a strong iron panel and ending in a collar.

"Do it!"

Hazel clasped the collar around Guelder's neck. It didn't fit. But then again, it wasn't made to match her elf form. She grabbed it with both hands and pulled it down on her clavicles, so desperately that it chafed her skin.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Thanks," she sputtered through the froth building up in her mouth. "Now go. Hurry."

"No, Guel. I am staying. Someone has to watch over you."

"I said go! Now!"

Hazel exhaled sharply. They weren't supposed to start their career in Guelder's court with an act of insubordination. So they bowed their head in a gesture of farewell, locked the door from the inside, leaving the key in, and tapped into the storm's power inside them. In a flash, they disappeared from the spot they'd been standing at, and rematerialised outside the door.

They found themself face to face with Pangur, desperately scratching the door to get to his mistress. Hazel could immediately see that the beast hadn't forgotten them. He sat down on his haunches and did his most convincing sad kitty eyes, even letting out a soft whine.

"Fine, fine, you scoundrel! She will feel safer with you by her side."

They moved through the door like before, and unlocked it from the inside. Pangur made his way into the room, almost sweeping Hazel off their feet. He headed straight to Guelder's personal treasure chest, reared up, and started to nuzzle its lid. Hazel decided to come to his aid. Perhaps he would lead them to Guelder's medication.

Turning their gaze away from the baroness struggling on her leash, already transformed, Hazel flipped the lid of the chest open. A pair of frightened eyes stared back at them. They belonged to a halfling girl with tousled hair and an ink smudge across her cheek. Hazel grabbed her by the ears and forced her out of the chest.

Guelder let out a roar resembling a cough, probably intended to urge them to get out of her safe space. Pangur lay down by her side, making reassuring little sounds.

Hazel dashed out of the room, dragging the whimpering halfling with them, and slammed the door shut. Now that they were all safe from each other, it was time to confront the girl.

"So who the hell are you, and what were you doing in Guelder's treasure chest?"

"I... I'm Linzi," stuttered the girl. "Court chronicler, I think."

"The word you are looking for is spy."

"No, no! I swear by the Eternal Rose! I was just collecting material!"

"That is what spies do."

"I mean, for my chronicle! Totally transparent and officially censored and approved and everything! And who are you, if I may ask?"

Hazel, however, was hard to convince. They carried Linzi to the guards and didn't relent until the men identified her as belonging to the court. Only then did the ranger let her go with a playful slap on the back of her head, and introduced themself.

"An old friend of Guelder's," acknowledged Linzi. "Hm. Then maybe you know what's wrong with her."

"Is something wrong with her? Apart from her curse?"

"From what I saw, yes. I've read a whole entire bunch of werewolf novels, so I know that they change into their hybrid form under the full moon. All fur but two legs. Except Her Grace didn't. She just took her usual shapeshift and acted like rabid. Why?"

"Ah, that. The druids who raised her tried to cure her from the curse at an early age. It was not entirely successful, but not entirely fruitless, either. One result was that she lost her ability to take a hybrid form."

"And... is that a good thing?"

"Ask her. But not tonight. Off with you!"

Finally alone, Hazel returned to Guelder's door, wrapped themself tightly up in their cloak and sat down on the floor, leaning their head and back against the doorpost for their nighttime rest.

They woke to the first rays of sunlight coming through the incomplete structure, and to the noise of workers going about their daily tasks. Hazel stood and stretched their limbs, then quietly entered Guelder's bedroom.

They found the baroness in bed, unkempt and worn down but peaceful in her resting trance, her light brown hair flowing all over the pillow. The collar was hanging from its place on the wall, as if never used. Pangur's keen eyes followed their movements from under the bed.

Hazel watched her. Were they an assassin, it would be easy as pie to put an abrupt end to her short rule. In fact, they half expected a spirit of temptation, an evil and persuasive succubus, to appear out of thin air in a swirl of a heavy fragrance of lilies, and whisper in their pointy ears: Kill her! And were they another kind of predator… The evening they’d spent together made Hazel wonder how their friendship would evolve going forward, and alcohol had played funny games with their senses. Still, they were a falcon, not a vulture. They chose to regard the situation as a test of respect and self-control, and stood there motionless, in silent admiration, until the baroness suddenly came to with a gasp and sat up in bed.

"Hazel… You here? What…"

"Hello, Guel. I am glad to see you made it through the night."

"Pfft... Of course I made it through the night. It is not my life that is in danger under the full moon."

"Did you at least have a good rest?"

"Not really. I dreamt I was trapped in a house, arrows hitting my body..."

Hazel's stomach turned to ice. Dawn dreams had the power of prophecy, or so the followers of Desna taught.

"Do you think someone wants to murder you?" they blurted out.

"Oh, no. I am fairly certain this comes from a victim of the Stag Lord. I have already set his soul free, but some traces of his horrible fate live on in my mind and became part of me. I mean, this time the house was not burning, and I was not he but myself. Still, the arrows felt all too real. And there was a strong smell of... pumpkins?"

"Pumpkins. Are you sure you do not want to see a cleric about this?"

"No," she shrugged. "I suspect it is part of the deal of ruling this place. I must live with it. Claiming the land, claiming its pain, claiming its death…"

Hazel felt a little worried. It was all well and good for Guelder to become one with the land she ruled (although it sounded a bit too mystical to their taste), but this land seemed to be just a tiny bit overloaded with trauma. Where would this lead? Would Guelder's pure heart cleanse the land from its pain and death, or would the land pull her down into the soil and slowly turn her into compost? They knew better than to ask this question aloud.

"Want a cuddle?" they asked instead.

"A hug will do. Just to kickstart another lovely day of my rule."

She clambered out of bed and threw her arms around Hazel's neck.

"Go now," she said. "Most of my team have accommodation in or near the palace. I will see that you are assigned a place somewhere close to me."

Hazel didn't give a damn to unfounded gossips and knowing glances when they left the palace. Everyone would think they'd spent the night with the baroness. All the better. If she was not out about her condition, a handsome lover would come in handy to explain the mysterious happenings of moonlit nights, and they were more than happy to undertake this role. Even if, for the time being, it was just pretend.