The stars were shining bright in the cloudless night above Varnhold Keep, an imposing stronghold dominating the east bank of the Kiravoy, albeit still under construction. Baron Varn hoped his esteemed guest was impressed, too. After a day so fruitful in networking and negotiations, resulting in an official treaty and a trade agreement between the two states, he and the baroness were chilling on top of an almost completed bastion. Just the two of them, having left the celebration banquet without saying a word to anyone. The baroness looked unusually relaxed, and the baron decided to use the opportunity to get closer to her on a personal level, too.
"Where do you hail from?"
She wrapped herself up tighter in her fur-trimmed cloak. The night air was a little crisp, and while the baron was warmed by a few glasses of wine from the inside, the baroness had stayed away from alcohol.
"A grove in the Fierani Forest, quite a bit closer to the dreadful Tanglebriar than to the capital of Kyonin. Its name translates to Common as Nightvale. I am told I was an abandoned infant, found by druids of the grove in a leopard's den. They raised me as one of their own."
"Sounds like a very special start in life. Do you think it was a sign?"
He immediately regretted asking this question. What a stupid platitude. Probably everyone who heard her story asked the same.
"I do not. And I would not call it very special, either. There are many parents who realise too late that they are unwilling or unable to carry the burden of a child, especially of one who is different. I survived, not because I was special, but thanks to the kindness of those who found me."
"Did you have a happy childhood there?"
"For a long time, I knew no other home than the forest. I could feel its life pulsating in my bones. I belonged there, and I was surrounded by kind and wise people. That helped a lot."
"Still, you left."
Guelder took a deep breath, bracing herself against the shadows of the past.
"More like fled," she said, staring out into the distance. "One night, an unknown enemy destroyed the grove. People, animals, even plants. A lot of details are lost to me, including how I escaped. You know, I struggle to recall events under the full moon."
So it was true. Of course, the Bruiser had already mentioned it when he'd recounted his adventure at Blackstones Ford, but it was different to hear it from the baroness herself. Not that it mattered. If anything, it only made her more exotic and mysterious.
"Where did you go?"
"I roamed the woodlands for years on end, raising my little leopard cub, then running with him, learning together to stay alive."
The baron looked down at the faithful feline curled up at his mistress's feet.
"Indeed, you two seem to be really close to each other. I've always been fond of dogs, but never felt this kind of connection to any one of them."
Guelder smiled, giving a gentle massage to her beast friend with her foot.
"Pangur is more than an animal companion. He carries a part of my soul inside him. We would not survive for long without each other."
"I wonder if that’s a blessing or a curse," mused the baron. "It makes you powerful, but also vulnerable. How did you create this bond with him?"
"It was not a conscious choice. He is another survivor from the grove, the only one I know of. I took him with me on my journey, trying to keep him alive with the limited means I had. Still, he was failing. All my love and care could not make up for the loss of his mother. I could not let him go. He was the last link to my grove, my past… perhaps even to my sanity. So I tried something desperate. I opened the veins on my wrist and let him taste my blood. It was just a little pain and a healing spell for me, but it tipped the scales for him. I did it a few times until his development got up to speed and he was ready to hunt with me. Considering how spry he is for his age, he probably absorbed some of my elven longevity, too."
"Do you think he would rip my hand off if I tried to pet him?"
"There is a chance he would," she said with a fond smile. "It is wise of you to ask first. Now that we are officially allies, I think I can put in a word with him on your behalf."
She crouched down to be approximately at eye level with Pangur, and exchanged a few purrs and meows with him. Then she looked up at the baron, her eyes reflecting the starlight in green.
"He appreciates your respectful attitude. You may pet him."
She kept her hand on the leopard's back, just in case. The magnificent beast's fur felt warm and soft under his fingers. When their hands accidentally touched, she didn't pull hers away.
He considered asking another question, but before he could say it aloud, Guelder casually read it out of his mind.
"You are wondering if I, too, have tasted his blood."
The baron nodded, fascinated by the story. In fact, had she been talking about the price of broccoli in Nidal, he would have found it just as enthralling. It must have been the wine playing with his senses.
"Yes, I have," she said. "After an unsuccessful hunt, both of us were badly wounded. I was in such a bad shape that I could not even heal us. It happened then. He offered it, and I accepted. Physically, it did not make any difference, but the thought that he was willing to feed me his own blood meant the world for me. I was about to welcome death with his blood on my lips, a gift freely given. Then a hunter found us, following the trail. They tended our wounds and nursed us back to life, and later on introduced us to their community, the Embeth Travellers. I spent the next years of my life training and working among them, until the Stolen Lands called me away."
"That hunter... It was Hazel Stormwalker, right? I surmise they never left your side ever since."
"Yes, it was Hazel, and no, we did not stay together for long. I mean, it lasted for less than a decade. Then our paths separated, and only recently did we meet again. Still, I consider them my most faithful friend over the last twenty years."
"And here I was thinking there must be something deeper between the two of you."
Guelder frowned.
"Deeper than friendship?"
The baron fell silent, embarrassed at his own lack of subtlety. Why did he always have to put his foot in his mouth? It was pure luck that Guelder wasn't easy to offend.
"Oh, no," she laughed. "I am not a romantic type, and I am also unable to regard sex as a love language. It is another leopard trait I have. Why would I crave for a quick and unpleasant act of procreation, when I do not even want to conceive? And before you start explaining, I know this is not the way people usually think of it, I know it is supposed to be pleasant, but regardless, I feel no need for it in my life."
She looked away into the distance, resting her hands on top of the wall. The baron stepped up beside her, so close that their shoulders touched. She didn't step away. In an alternate timeline, he would have tested the boundaries she'd just set. But as things were, he had too much to lose. A budding friendship, an alliance he could finally trust (whatever Cephal said), and most importantly, Felicia. He chose to treasure this warmth he felt around Guelder, without stoking it into a wildfire. He prayed he could do that.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
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Hazel had an exhausting day behind them. They never thought it would be this difficult to reach a common ground with the leaders of Varnhold. One could never know where they stood with Cephal Lorentus, who was probably the mastermind controlling the baron from the background, and Treasurer Kjerdi was downright infuriating with her immunity to a charming elven smile. It was one thing that the trade agreement between the two states required the construction of a road between the Crooked and the Shrike on the part of Nightvale and a safe and comfortable path through the mountains on the part of Varnhold, and also the development of old Davik Nettle's burnt-out bridgekeeper's hut into an inland port (which was one of Guelder's dreams anyway, but Hazel was not sure the budget could cover that in the near future). Additionally, Kjerdi and Darlac mercilessly crushed Kassil's notions of a military treaty. All he could achieve was a -30% deal on mercenaries in case of offensive operations, and a -60% one in case of a war of defense. It sounded like a bargain, even compared to the prices offered to Lady Jamandi, but it was a far cry from what the young Aldori scion had expected. Despite Darlac's apparently troubled state (what with her furtive glances at the baron who consistently avoided her gaze, her expression of pure and unadulterated loathing whenever she had to look at Willas Gunderson, and her blush when she caught Hazel's scorching eyes), the General of Varnhold stood as firm as a rock in the sea of negotiations. The only thing she was really generous about was sharing military know-how—a good way to showcase Varnhold's superiority and deter Nightvale from attempting anything nasty, and also to plant a few spies in Tuskdale. Kassil made a promise to share his own knowledge in return, but Hazel suspected that his knowledge mostly covered various duelling techniques, not very useful on the battlefield. Still, Guelder offered environmental know-how in exchange, pointing out how much timber Varn had used for construction purposes, and how detrimental that could have been to the mountain forests. The baron accepted her offer, and Hazel was certain that he only did so thanks to Guelder's lovely amber eyes. She even pushed through her idea of setting up rookeries in the two capitals for easier communication. Being a real predator at heart, she rejected homing pigeons as being too easy prey, and suggested ravens and owls instead.
And so it went until the rulers furnished everything with their seals and signatures, and the time for the banquet arrived. It was a relatively large-scale event on the main square, featuring an ox roasted on open fire and lots of beer, two barrels of which the Nightvale delegation had brought as a gift in a Bag of Holding. Then, just as Guelder was about to finally convince the representative of the local druids that woodpeckers were a very poor choice for mail delivery, the baron unceremoniously grabbed her hand and took her away. It was anyone's guess where they would end up and what they would do there, and even though Hazel knew Guelder like the back of their hand, including all her boundaries and inclinations (or the lack thereof), the situation felt more than disturbing. Two charismatic leaders at a secluded location... no, Hazel didn't want to think about that. Just because Kassil's plan seemed increasingly clever and feasible, and just because a few decades of marriage to a human was but a passing fancy in an elf's life, that didn't mean Hazel wanted to witness the two rulers' mating dance from up close. In fact, they felt a desperate urge to go find them and... probably make a fool of themself. To avoid acting on that, they sorely needed something to keep their mind occupied.
They found that something in Felicia Darlac, General of Varnhold, likely grappling with similar dark thoughts.
Darlac was perching on a bench on Varnhold Town's main square, staring gloomily into a mug of ale, and listening to a tipsy Kassil's ideas on setting up a functional army. Hazel's ears perked up, trying to catch some of the conversation across the din of merrymaking and the sound of the beer flowing into their mug from the barrel.
Darlac apparently intended to recruit centaurs for cavalry. Which was not a bad idea in and of itself, but Kassil was too drunk to appreciate it properly. Instead, he was hellbent on raising the stakes. Soon he started babbling about an air force... of dragons.
Hazel drifted closer to them to savour every detail in full—for starters, the aasimar's annihilating flat stare at the half-orc.
"An air force of dragons. Any other idea? Purple worms for sappers, for instance? I don't know what you smoke, Kassil, but you should come off it real quick."
Kassil tried in vain to align his two eyes and bore them into Darlac's forehead.
"If Choral the Conqueror could pull it off, why couldn't I?"
"Because you're not Choral the Conqueror. Have you ever seen a dragon from up close?"
"No, and I bet my tusks you haven't, either."
"Give thanks to the Inheritor that I have no use for your tusks right now."
"Ah, great, here we go again," snickered Kassil. "Mercenaries and their tall tales. Let me guess. You took an excursion to Iobaria across your eastern border and wrangled a black dragon with your bare hands."
Exasperated, Darlac sank her fingers into her curls.
"Actually, it was a blue dragon, here in Dunsward, already wounded, and I was with a full team, including the baron. It was a whole entire lot less fun than you imagine. But look, Kassil, you do you. Not my circus, not my monkeys. I'm just saying you'd better keep it reasonable. If your grandiose plans fall through and you need me and the Varnlings to save your ass, I swear to Iomedae that I'll never let you live it down. Additionally, it will cost you a fortune."
That didn't stop Kassil from explaining his concept in more detail. Darlac's eyelids were becoming heavy. Hazel had to be quick about joining her before she would give in to exhaustion. They walked up to her table and took a seat beside her.
"May I join your merry company tonight, Generals?" they asked. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."
Kassil somehow managed to stem the flood of nonsense coming from his mouth, rinsing it off with the rest of his beer. Then he flashed a wide grin at Hazel, and even winked at them.
"Be right back, getting another mug," he muttered, and scampered away from the table, never to return.
Darlac looked up from her beer, with a hint of relief in her eyes, and forgot to look away. She wasn't hard to read at all. If the baron deserved to have fun tonight, well, so did she. Tired as she was, she refused to call it a night until something better happened to her than a drunken half-orc and his air force of dragons.
"It is a pleasant surprise that I found you here," said Hazel, their eyes locked onto Darlac's face. "One would expect you should be there with the baron and the baroness at their exclusive meeting. I mean, you are his... what are you exactly?"
"His fiancée," said Darlac, a little offended. Hazel doubled down, enjoying the effect of their words.
"Since when? Did it come with your promotion? Or was this your condition of taking up the dangerous task of defending his country?"
"What sort of questions are these, Hazel?" she snapped, stroking a stray curl out of her face with a nervous move. "Relationships have a tendency to get upgraded after a while. And we've been together for many years. Perhaps not a long time for an elf, but enough for us simple mortals to find out whether we are compatible."
"And are you?"
"Yes," she said, a little too quickly.
"How old is he again? I remember you are not seventeen but twenty-five."
"Younger than you by a few hundred years, I reckon."
Hazel laughed. They would definitely buy a mug of ale for Kassil to thank him for pointing them towards Darlac. It was so much fun to mess with her. Much better than stewing alone in the room they shared with Guelder and wondering what the baroness might be doing right now.
"I hate to disappoint you, General, but I am only fifty-three."
"You still have a good dozen years on him."
"I always forget how quickly humans deteriorate. Still, despite his misleadingly low number of years, he is cunning enough to get the best of both worlds. Angels and beasts... The heavenly light in your gaze is just as fascinating as Guelder's wild cat eyes. Should a man have to choose between you two, he would be deep in trouble."
Darlac looked confused, trying to determine if this was a compliment or a generous amount of salt rubbed into her wound. One didn't have to be an inquisitor to see through this girl. She enjoyed the tribute to her beauty, thirsty for someone's care and attention in this hour of abandonment, but the hint at what was likely going on behind her back pierced her heart like a shard of glass.
"Tell me about your baroness," she finally said.
She apparently liked to be tormented. And Hazel was here to give her just that.