After a journey of two blessedly uneventful hours, Hazel arrived back to camp. This time they had travelled ahead of the baroness, ready to clear eventual obstacles, bandits, hungry wolves and the like out of their way—although they were not in their top form themself, either. The healing potion hadn't helped as much as they'd expected.

They found Linzi lounging by the firepit and scribbling into her book, as usual, eagerly waiting for the return of the baroness and the story she would tell. Ekundayo was off foraging or hunting for dinner, while Valerie and Amiri were sparring to pass the time. Tristian was leaning on his bedroll, looking forlorn. Hazel approached him nonchalantly, as much as their swollen knee allowed.

"Hey, Tris, do you have a light healing spell prepared just for me?" they asked quietly, careful not to disturb Linzi, who now started to tune her lute.

"Of course, Hazel," said the priest. "What happened?"

Hazel was relieved to take a seat, and pulled up the leg of their trousers. It proved to be a challenge. Their knee was an ugly sight indeed.

"Just a wrong step. Nothing serious, albeit rather unpleasant... But you look troubled. Is something amiss?"

"I’m worried for her," said Tristian softly after a few moments of silence.

Hazel flashed a wry smile.

"Of course you are. It is just natural… Nothing else? Are you sure you do not want to get it out of your system?"

"What?"

"Your dark secret," teased him Hazel. "Let me guess. You have dirty dreams about the baroness, full of forbidden pleasure. You wake up screaming in the night, your body aroused and your mind nauseated. And whenever you look at her in real life, all this bears down on you like a cartload of bricks, making you feel awkward as hell and unable to do anything but blush and stutter."

On second thought, it might not have been the best idea to pull a healer's leg while he was doing his job, but Hazel felt a bit too inquisitive for their own good.

Tristian’s hand stopped mid-spell. For a few moments he stared at the elf with big, clueless eyes, trying to process the situation.

"Fine, I confess," he finally sighed. "How did you find it out?"

The swelling on Hazel’s knee started to subside, but their curiosity rose even higher. They didn’t believe for a moment that their blind jab would hit home, and they were still fairly certain that it hadn’t. On the other hand, they had never expected this meek cleric to lie in their face so blatantly, just to prevent further questions. What was he hiding?

Tristian sat down next to Hazel, hoping to remain hidden from Linzi, now busy practising her chords. Now Hazel had to follow through with the topic. They had heard enough armchair psychology from Professor Narthropple's companions to be able to pull this off, and in the end, they might be able to ferret out something interesting.

"A young priest, all obsessed with kindness and mercy, but unfamiliar with the depths of his own soul... It was just a matter of time for your dark side to pop up and demand your attention."

"I wish Sarenrae would show me the way," muttered Tristian, gazing at his boots. "Perhaps she is putting me to the test."

Hazel rolled their trouser leg back down, patting Tristian’s arm in gratitude.

"Does your goddess require you to live in celibacy?"

"No way!" protested the cleric. "She is the goddess of mercy, after all. Why would she set up her own priests for failure?"

"For more occasions to show mercy and be praised and thanked for it?" laughed Hazel. "That is something gods would do… Never mind. Well, this makes things easier for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Every mortal soul is a mix of light and shadow. You are no exception, either. And if your feelings are hurt in any way… for instance, if you have a crush on someone who does not take notice of you… well, the shadow will manifest itself, in dreams or otherwise. You must figure out how to make peace with it, or even harness it, instead of pretending it does not exist until it bites you in the balls. One day you will find someone to your liking, and then you will be able to channel your vague desires into a controlled and acceptable form. Make sure that it happens sooner rather than later. And make sure to choose someone who is willing and able to return your feelings."

Hazel could only hope that Tristian was smart enough to take the hint. He could either break his skull trying to demolish the wall around Guelder's heart, or (if he was wise) he could accept that it was there, admire all the lovely moss and lichen growing on it, and learn to like her as she was. Or maybe, just maybe, he could chip away at the old masonry, slowly and patiently, until he had a decent-sized gap to squeeze through. But Hazel preferred for him to stay away from Guelder. At least until they would vet him and determine whether his dark secret made him ineligible, but ideally for good.

"Wise words, Hazel," said the priest. "I’ll give them due consideration."

"And before you would worry yourself sick for Guelder," added Hazel, for reassurance or maybe as a threat, "remember that anyone who tries to harm her will have to get through me first."

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Tristian frowned.

"And how do you plan to save her from certain death, while lounging here in camp?" he snapped, a little too loud. Linzi looked up, and her gaze found the two of them.

Hazel raised an eyebrow.

"Certain death?"

"I mean," muttered the priest, blood rushing into his face, "there might still be bandits on the road, and—"

"Whatever Harrim might say, there is no such thing as certain death," said Hazel with a mysterious smile.

On cue, the two leopards appeared at the edge of the clearing. Linzi perked up.

"Pangur? Why do I see two of you? A Displacement spell or just my sleep deprivation? And... where is Guelder? Don’t tell me she is… Oh no!"

One of the leopards yawned, which was probably intended as an exasperated sigh, and disappeared in a whirlwind of leaves, giving way to Guelder's elf form. The little bard squeaked with joy.

"Guelder! What happened? Do you need healing?"

"Do you think I do?" she asked wryly, settling down under the tree they'd built the camp around and leaning her back against it. Trees usually comforted her. Hazel was horrified to think how much caked blood she'd licked off herself to look even remotely presentable.

Tristian quietly moved Linzi aside and set to work. Careful not to cause more pain, he removed parts of Guelder's damaged clothing to examine her wounds, flustered at the touch of her bare skin and shaking his head in disapproval. Hazel got her a change of clothes and a bowl of water to help her clean herself off.

Guelder was not generous with details of her adventure, but telling the key points of her story distracted her from the discomfort of the treatment.

"Yes, it was indeed a trap, as you might have guessed. Now that I am more than a simple adventurer, I suddenly became an unwanted person. She did not even give me a chance to speak on my behalf... Hazel, take that smirk off your face, or I will."

"But you killed her, right?" chirped the bard.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Linzi. She preferred an indirect approach and used a collection of monsters instead of facing me in person. She was so certain about her success that she did not even return to check on my corpse."

"You should have taken an invisibility potion! I told you!"

"That is not my way," snapped Guelder. "I am the ruler of Nightvale, not some rogue sneaking away from danger. Loath as I am to kill any creature unless it is absolutely necessary, I had to send her a clear message. If she wants to mess with me, she had better step up her game."

"Don't you even say that!" exclaimed Tristian, horrified. "Look what her game did to you already. Trust me, you don't want her to step it up."

"Congratulations, Guel," remarked Hazel. "Now you have your very own ilduliel."

Guelder turned pale even compared to her original bled-out skin colour.

"I hope not," she said.

"What's an ilduliel?" wondered Linzi.

"A person who dedicates their patient efforts to make your life miserable on as many levels as possible," explained Hazel helpfully. "A bond that is stronger than love, stronger than blood. A bond of refined, resourceful hatred, stretching through the centuries."

"That is a part of elven existence I had hoped to avoid," said Guelder. "And I still trust I can. Perhaps she had bad experiences with rulers trying to bring civilisation to the Stolen Lands. I can relate to that. I will prove myself worthy of her trust, and sooner or later she will come around. Anyway, Linzi, please register in your journal that this questline is over."

Guelder's hand unconsciously wandered to the amulet in her neck. She looked at the bauble, scowling, as if she were considering to crush it underfoot. Then she closed her eyes and focused, feeling for traces of magic. The others waited in deadly silence.

"It is still doing its job," she finally said. "A little extra protection from arrows, not more, not less. I will keep using it, out of spite. And now let me have some rest."

Silence fell on the camp, as everyone tried their best to speak in hushed tones and walk on tiptoes, letting the baroness rest and recover. As Hazel prepared to turn in, too, they felt something in a pocket of his cloak, probably smuggled in by Guelder when they hadn't been looking. It was the arrow they had fired at the owlbear at the Verdant Chambers. Two autumn leaves were tied to its shaft with a piece of string. A hazel and a guelder rose. Just like back in the Embeth Forest. Had it come from anyone else, they would have considered it a confession of love. From Guelder, it was 'best friends forever'. Hazel touched it to their lips, then placed it back into their pocket until they would find a worthy place for it. Perhaps they would make it into their personal coat of arms, if they ever needed one. They slipped under their blanket, happy with a day well spent, but also with a little nagging voice at the back of their brain.

They had to learn Tristian’s dirty secret, sooner rather than later.

Tristian stayed up late. He'd volunteered to keep watch, but he regularly caught himself just staring out of his head.

He knew for sure that his happy days were gone. The trap had been sprung, and since the prey escaped with her life, it wouldn't be long until further instructions arrived. That was one reason why he dreaded to go to sleep and chose to be on guard instead, despite his senses being mediocre at best.

On the other hand, Guelder had pulled through the ambush of the evil nymph against all odds. Maybe Sarenrae had finally decided to offer Tristian a helping hand. If the baroness prevailed in the long run, too… and with his wholehearted support, that might even be possible… Perhaps there was hope, after all. Just a tiny flicker at the very edge of his vision, but still, it was there.

Unless the nymph would indeed step up her game.

He found himself praying for strength to his distant goddess, as usual, and hoping that Hazel's words would evaporate from his mind. So far he'd never had dirty dreams about Guelder, but now he feared this would change.