Hazel did their best to piece together the lore about the Guardian of the Bloom from Linzi's journal, rambling oral narrative and poems, including her ballad about a love affair between a nymph and a bandit leader, which came to a breakup after the nymph realised that he was unworthy of her love. The bard read it out to Hazel, hoping that they would receive it with more enthusiasm than the baroness had. Guelder was all for the freedom of art and creativity, but Linzi was sometimes a little too much for her nerves. Hazel, too, found it hard to see through the poetic frills to the core of truth. Hard, but of utmost importance, considering that Guelder was preparing for her lone journey to the Verdant Chambers, brimming with enthusiasm.

Indeed, the baroness deserved a little time out with a friend, after the Tannersen kid's questline had reached such a heartbreaking closure. She stood her ground bravely against waves upon waves of doubts about her own competence. It was just that, for all Hazel knew, the pleasant and fruitful journey she was so thrilled to embark upon might well prove to be a deadly trap.

Of course, Hazel did what they could to ensure her safety. The field team set up camp within two hours' walking distance from the place the nymph had marked on Guelder's map by poking a briarthorn into it. Pretending to be simple hunters, Hazel and Ekundayo scouted the area, searching for hidden traps. The place turned out to be another ancient dwarven fortress, impenetrable save for the entrance hall, with a stunning view of the Narlmarches from the walls. A gnarled tree grew in the middle of the dilapidated courtyard. Another tree, uprooted by a storm, had crashed into the outer wall, offering another way up the battlements. Just to make their cover story more credible, the two rangers exterminated a pack of wolves prowling the area, and looted the corpse of the unfortunate adventurer they had been feasting upon. The elusive nymph didn't appear to them, otherwise the terrain seemed to be safe enough.

Hazel was worried nonetheless.

"I am still not sure it is a good idea," they said, watching Guelder prepare for the trip.

The baroness looked up from her stash of healing potions with a smile.

"I will never know until I see it for myself."

"Let me accompany you. Please."

"No way. I gave her my word."

She threw a dark green hooded cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasp at her throat.

"If anything goes awry, I have a will, all drawn up and signed, in the chest in my private quarters. But you need not worry, Pangur will not let me come to any harm."

"If you can take him, you can take me, too," insisted Hazel.

"No. However fond I am of you both, he has a part of my soul, and you do not. I must play fair. My decision is final."

Hazel grudgingly relented.

"Fine, Baroness Guelder of Nightvale. However, promise me you will not enter the keep. That place looks like a dungeon. Stay outside, under the open sky, so that you can flee if things go awry."

"I promise. I suspect my host likes it better outdoors, too."

Guelder bade them all farewell, and left camp with Pangur in tow.

She was still well within earshot when Tristian stopped her.

"Guelder, please. You don’t have to go there."

"Do not start this again, Tristian. I will be fine."

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"What makes you think you will?" snapped the priest.

"What makes you think I will not?" she threw back the question.

Embarrassed silence followed. Hazel could imagine Tristian blushing to dark red and getting his fingers entangled in his rosary.

About twenty minutes after the baroness left, Hazel took their cloak, bow and quiver, and set out on her trail.

"Hey!"

It was Ekundayo calling after them. Hazel turned back, surprised. The Osirian hunter was not a man of words, much less did he ever start a conversation.

"Good luck," he said. "Keep her safe."

From a man who had recently lost his loved ones, unable to protect them, these words had weight. Hazel acknowledged them with a thankful smile, and went on their way.

The prints of light elven boots were soon replaced by another set of paws. Hazel had to admit that Guelder was indeed more cautious than they gave her credit for. An elf running with a leopard would draw much more unwanted attention than two leopards running together. Also, she left the road immediately. Hazel once caught sight of the two felines playing catch in an open field, and slowly began to understand her. Finally, she had some time to just be happy in the forest, away from the burdens of leadership, like in the past that seemed so distant as though it had never existed. She needed these stolen moments of bliss, just like she needed the miniature wilderness she'd created around the palace, or the speedgrown oak in front of her bedchamber's window: small things that helped her remain herself.

Hazel must have dozed off under a tree while watching the leopards play. When they woke up, the cats were already gone, and the ranger had to rely on their tracking abilities again, until they reached the Verdant Chambers.

Compared to its previous state, the place was teeming with life... and death. The central path leading up to the abandoned keep was blocked by a huge and angry carnivorous plant, and Hazel's keen eyes spotted a few tripwires as well. They found it better to leave the path and choose a less obvious way to the keep, the fallen tree providing an oblique slope, still in place since their last visit. As they reached the upper end of the trunk, they crouched down, covered by the drying fronds and the battlements, and peered around.

Strange corpses littered the steps leading up from the courtyard to the walls, like oversized garden gnomes with red caps and scythes. Then Hazel spotted Guelder and Pangur in a jumble of vines and roots, probably conjured by herself to slow down her attackers. Standing on top of the corpses of what might have been a hydra and a manticore, her spear dripping with blood, she was fending off the attacks of a young owlbear. Hazel cursed themself for not having borrowed a crossbow for the occasion. Now they had to stand up from their cover, with their upper body rising above the battlements. By the time they found their balance on the tree trunk, nocked an arrow and aimed, the monster swept Guelder off her feet, and its claws raked bloody slashes into her body. A moment later Pangur pounced on the owlbear’s back, searching for a sensitive spot in its spine under the thick layers of fur and muscle, while the baroness tore a fireflask off her belt and slammed it into the beast's muzzle. Hazel was quick to fire their arrow, which made them waver on their perch. They crouched down again, trying to get ahold of the battlements or anything. The arrow missed its target but didn't hit Guelder, either. The baroness scrambled to her feet, victorious but only barely, and turned to face the old tree on the little square in front of the keep.

"Can you hear me, Guardian of Betrayal?" she cried out. "I am the steward of this land, and I shall protect it! If need be, without you! If need be, against you! Throw at me whatever you want, I will never back down!"

A crashing noise interrupted Guelder’s challenging words, as Hazel lost balance on the tree trunk and fell tumbling down to the foot of the wall, hardly able to slow down their plunge by grabbing a branch or two. Silence followed. Guelder waited, in case the noise marked the arrival of another foe. Hazel remained motionless where they'd hit the ground, listening, curious whether the nymph would respond to the challenge.

Nothing happened. Only the giant flytrap rustled its tendrils, walking up and down impatiently across the path.

Hazel finally stood up and gulped down a healing potion. The sharp pain in their knee eased somewhat, and the minor scratches and bruises disappeared from their skin. Holding their breath, they observed Guelder’s fight against the giant flytrap from a safe distance, but still within shooting range. She was in poor shape. Her right leg was badly mangled, her gear splashed with blood, foreign and her own alike, blood was trickling down her face and arms. She was running out of spells, too. Her last healing spell went to Pangur, barely clinging to life by the time they finished off the oversized weed. She sank to her knees, and Hazel could tell she was sobbing in anger and frustration. If only they could embrace and comfort her, hold her shaking body tight until she calmed down and hugged them back, thankful for their support...

Hazel resisted the temptation. This was her moment, her fight, her lesson to learn. So they remained hidden and prepared themself to invisibly escort two battered leopards back to camp.