Thrace couldn’t believe how stupid she had been.

She hated to admit it but maintaining two illusions and an invisibility spell was still beyond her. She sniffled, trying to keep the blood from flowing from her nose and down her face. Just as Papa always said, “All magic comes with a price.” The blood would just aggravate the guards more, and they were already on the verge. How could she have known how ruthless the Crownsguard would be, even to a little girl?

Just as she had prepared to beeline for a nearby alleyway, this stranger intervened.

“Ursa, that is you!”

The stranger, a half-orc of all things, reminded Thrace of the beggars that used to sleep in Runner’s Alley. They all bore the same look - the look of those that didn’t belong anywhere.

He wore green and brown robes with a leather jerkin covering his chest. Tied around his waist was what was clearly a wizard’s component belt, with all those bulging pouches, and a warrior’s one too judging by his two sheathed short swords. Underneath the hem that reached to his knees, Thrace saw green trousers and buckskin boots. What completed this urchin’s look was a heavy pack that could contain a man’s entire life.

His face bore rich dark green skin that was free of any dirt or grime. The robes’ colors were faded and the edges were fraying. Leather bracers strapped to his forearms bore many cuts but didn’t seem dried out or brittle. The boots bore many a repair patch and stitch but were clean as well. His appearance was somehow unkempt but not dirty.

Thrace looked him up and down. By the Nine Hells, who was this stranger?

The Half-Orc gave her a reassuring smile, easily showing off his tusks jutting from the corners of his mouth. He approached them confidently, his stride never faltering.

The human pig, Nandor, stepped forward to meet this stranger. He drew his own longsword. The naked steel was enough to make all onlookers flee for safety.

“Who are you?” Nandor sneered. “This is official Crownsguard business. Best move along.”

“No need for that, Soldier,” the Half-Orc said, his tone calm and reasonable. “That’s my Squire you are accosting there.”

“You’re Squire?” The pig laughed at that. “What horse shit is this? You some kind of Guild Wizard, urchin? Show me a badge or get lost!”

The Half-Orc didn’t react beyond frowning in displeasure.

“Is this how the Crownsguard conducts itself? It bullies and intimidates its citizens? I expect more from the Queen’s Guard.” The pig bristled at his words. “Allow me to explain myself before you rudely disregard me.”

The Half-Orc reached for his neckline slowly, not taking his eyes off of Nandor for a second. He pulled free something, a pendant. Thrace saw the glint of green, an emerald perhaps. Nandor squinted his eyes and leaned in closer to get a better look. His jaw dropped and his face went deathly pale.

“I-I-I.” Thrace felt a tinge of vicious satisfaction. The pig was blubbering incoherently. But why?

“My name is Kosram Paltos, a member of the Order of Eldritch Knights. We’ve just arrived in Tendorvasht. I had business in the Outerwalls, the Docks specifically, so I sent Ursa on ahead to run some errands and secure us lodging. She hadn’t returned, so I decided to find her myself. Never imagined she would be stopped and threatened by a Crownsguard. Now, I demand to know why you are accosting my Squire.” There was a bite to his tone, a hint of anger as well.

Thrace froze.

She stared, wide-eyed, at this man. An Eldritch knight - just like the people that killed Papa. The Half-Orc, Kosram, noticed her stare and smiled reassuringly.

Her mind screamed at her to run. Her heart begged her to avenge Papa. There was a dagger tucked into the back of her trousers. Stolen, yes. Rusty, certainly. Would it be enough? She’d seen their blades dance before, like light given physical form. Surprise was her only ally.

But instead, she couldn’t move a single muscle let alone take a single step. Her body accepted what neither her mind and heart could - that she was already dead. Thrace just didn’t know it.

The female Crownsguard stepped forth. She formed a fist with her right hand and placed it upon the center of her chest and stood at attention.

“My name is Crownsguard Jovash, my lord, and I apologize on behalf of my partner and me!” She elbowed him in the gut and the pig hurriedly saluted the Knight as well. “The sus-your Squire was not cooperating, and we had to turn to more forceful methods. Once again, I apologize!”

Kosram nodded in thanks, but his eyes were hard as iron. “I appreciate that but that doesn’t explain why you have accosted her still.”

“Well I there isn’t much I can tell you. Our superiors, the Wardens, are keeping this quiet. But, we had reports that an Archwizard of the Guild and his entire family were murdered. His tome was also stolen. This happened about three weeks ago, in the city of Palson. We have orders to be on the lookout for a particular magical tome described such as this one” - she gestured to Thrace - “which fits the description right nice.”

She rummaged about in a belt pouch before pulling out a piece of parchment. “Right, here it is. ‘Deep purple color, swirling arcane script, etched in silver’. At the very least, my lord, we wish to take it back to the Garrison and have the Guild Wizards inspect it. If it’s a misunderstanding, she’ll have the book back we promise.”

“Of course we will happily cooperate.” Kosram gave her a pointed look. “Won’t we, Ursa?”

But once both of the Crownsguard looked away, Kosram gave her a small wink.

Wait. Was he conning them? Thrace couldn’t help but balk at the thought. It was certainly possible, though. After all, now that she thought about it, how could anyone that looked like that be an Eldritch Knight? But, if he was going to help her out, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d just wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.

Thrace clutched the book tighter, looking down at her feet. Play submissive. Act like you’re obedient. That’s what they expect from Squires right? Loyal, obedient, and all that? She then nodded.

“Well, that settles it.” Jovash sounded satisfied. “If you would kindly give us the tome-”

“Hold on a minute!” Nandor interjected. His voice shook and his eyes kept flitting away from Kosram. But, after a moment, the Crownsguard summoned up enough courage to continue. “No offense but Jovash but how do we know this Knight is telling the truth?”

Jovash’s eyes widened. “He bears an Emerald Pendant!” she hissed at him through clenched teeth. “That’s enough proof but if you insist we can check with the Scribes! There’s a record of every Knight, surely that will exonerate him!”

“Yes, yes,” Nandor said. “But what about the girl? You can’t tell me that it isn’t a bit suspicious that he claims she is his Squire? Look at her!” He gestured to Thrace. “She’s got to be under seven winters! She’s too young! I think he’s just trying to help out some street rat.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Are you insinuating that I am actively impeding a Crownsguard investigation?” Kosram asked, cocking an eyebrow. “If so, you accuse me of treason. I would tread carefully if I were you.”

“No, no, no! Just that you’re…intentions are misplaced, my lord. Nothing else. What good and moral man wouldn’t jump to the defense of a little girl?”

Kosram sighed. “There’s an easier way to solve this. We shall prove our credentials to you through skill of magic.”

He reached into one of his belt pockets and pulled out a bit of gauze. He formed two fists, the gauze firmly held in his left one, and slammed both fists together at the knuckles. Kosram began to mutter under his breath, words that Thrace couldn’t understand but recognized - arcane words.

After a moment, white mist seeped through the gaps of his fists. His entire body shimmered before dissolving into mist and fog, clothes and all. The sudden fog billowed outward, quickly enveloping Thrace and the Crownsguard in its embrace.

Nandor assumed a battle stance as Jovash drew her own sword. Both of their eyes were wide with fear. Thrace understood - how did one fight the untouchable?

“Don’t worry,” whispered a voice. It was a whisper but it emanated throughout the gaseous mass. Thrace heard it all around them, clear and distinct but also quiet. “It’s still me.”

The fog and mist all stilled at once before rushing and condensing into the center. The mass formed a human form and, in an instant, white mist and fog became flesh, cloth, and leather.

Kosram stood before them, his face impassive. But in his eyes, Thrace saw a joy. It was the joy of doing the impossible.

Thrace felt her blood run cold. She knew that spell. Papa had used it enough times to avoid Mama’s angry outbursts. If this Half-Orc was a con man, then he was a wizard and a powerful one.

“Now, that was ‘Gaseous Form’. A third tier spell. As you well know, a Guild Wizard need only be able to cast first tier. An Eldritch Knight has to be able to cast at least third tier. So, I already qualify as one of the stronger wizards in the queendom. Now” - he gestured to Thrace - “my Squire will demonstrate her own skill.”

What?

All eyes were upon her and Thrace felt her heart stop. Her own gaze locked with Kosram’s. What did he mean?

Kosram sighed. He raised his hand, pointing to his index and middle fingers. “Undo the string, Ursa. Let the illusion drop.”

So he knew. Ursa grimaced but, did she have a choice? She shifted Papa’s tome so that it was being held in the crook of her right armpit. With a single yank from her teeth, she broke the knot on her left hand, leaving the string dangling from her mouth. She shivered as her real skin settled in. It felt like she’d been dunked in cold water.

Her hair unbraided itself, growing longer and darkening to her natural black. Her skin shifted to light forest green, and she felt her canines elongate within her mouth. Her clothes remained the same; those hadn’t been part of the illusion beyond adapting them to her smaller form.

The worse was the height change. The Dura child she’d been masquerading as was at least two spans shorter than her actual height. It wasn’t exactly painful, but her body’s old height reasserting itself left her with a sudden sense of vertigo. Shaking the cobwebs away from her vision, she slowly looked up at the trio of onlookers.

Kosram had a hand in a pouch, and he discreetly pointed his index finger at her before muttering a single word under his breath. She felt magic settle upon her brow and ears like a well-fitted hat. Kosram quickly whispered under his breath. He was quiet enough that the Crownsguard didn’t react, but she could hear his voice in her ear as if he was right behind her.

A message cantrip then.

“Repeat exactly what I am about to say,” he whispered. “And follow my lead and my instructions to the letter, if you want to get out of this.”

She nodded.

“‘My name is Ursa Caldgren,’” she recited, following his whispered words to the letter. “‘I am a Squire serving under my master, Kosram Paltos. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.’”

Once she said the words, she felt the magic upon her lift. Kosram removed his hand from his belt pouch and winked at her once more.

“Let me explain further,” he said, stepping forward and drawing the center of attention back to himself. “This was all a test. I wanted to see if she could infiltrate the Innerwall District, undetected. She was to complete her errands and find lodging for us without being spotted. Obviously, she was allowed to use magic, particularly illusion magic as you just witnessed, but it seems that Ursa was unable to overcome her limitations.”

“Why is she dressed like that then? And where is her pendant?” Nandor demanded.

“Part of the test. Stripping her of the symbols of her rank and position would make her task even more difficult. Wouldn’t a common street urchin be regarded with suspicion here? Thus, she would instantly be found out and fail if her illusions failed.”

“Be that as it may, ” Jorvash said. “We have a job to do, my lord. We don’t need you to make it more difficult for us.”

“You must understand, it was just to add another degree of difficulty,” Kosram explained. “She was to rely solely upon magic. I was hoping that it would push her beyond her limits. It was never my intention to cause problems. Plus” - he glared at her - “she was supposed to explain her situation if she was ‘caught’. Ursa is quite stubborn; she refuses to accept defeat. And for that, I apologize.”

He bowed deeply to them. The two Crownsguard shared a look before Jorvash sighed.

“Apology accepted, my lord. We will still have to take a statement from your Squire and also take the tome as evidence. If you would come with us to the Garrison I can promise you we can sort this out quickly.”

“It’s been a long day. If you don’t mind, Crownsguard Jovash, could you send your Investigator to the Silver Hammer Inn? I assure you that we will be there waiting to answer any and all questions you may have us pertaining to this tome.”

“You won’t be staying with the Lady Castellan?” Nandor asked, suspicious. “She would surely house you in much better quarters at no expense of your own.”

“We don’t plan to be in Tendorvasht for too long. I’ve been to this city before and have experienced the Lady Castellan’s...hospitality. I didn’t want to bother her and all that pomp and circumstance can be quite draining. ”

The two Crownsguard nodded sagely.

Jorvash spoke again. “Well, alright then, my lord. We will send an Investigator to the Silver Hammer Inn within the hour. I promise that it won’t take too much of your time, sir.” She then looked towards Thrace before stepping forward and stretching out her hands. “Now then. Squire, may I have the evide-tome, please? I promise we will return it as soon as possible.”

Thrace felt herself instinctively tighten her arms around the tome. Back in her old form, her arms easily embraced the tome. She couldn’t give it up. Papa had died for this! Mama. Mama needed this! She felt a hand rest lightly upon her shoulder. It was firm but gentle.

Kosram knelt before her and it took all her willpower not to recoil at the sight of that pendant hanging from his neck.

“Hey, look at me, Ursa.” His left hand left her shoulder and extended forward, gently forcing her chin upward, so they locked eyes. His right hand was behind his back and out of sight. “It’s going to be okay. Give them the tome you just bought. I promise you, that you will get it back. Urstash.”

The last word was in Orgashk. Thrace looked like a Half-Orc which was probably why he had spoken in the harsh tongue.

But, thankfully she was fluent. Papa had seen that she was fluent in all the major tongues. “Urtash” was a simple word but carried immense weight. It was both promise and blood pact rolled into one. To any that swore it, their life would be forfeit if they broke such a promise.

Unlucky for this Half-Orc, she didn’t care about such promises. He was her best option but giving up the tome wasn’t an option. It never was.

Thrace wrenched her face free and took a single step to flee down that nearby alleyway once more.

Then, a powerful wave of magic rolled over her, sweeping away all thought of flight, resisting, or anything really. Thrace froze mid-stride. Serenity and calm in the form of fog ruled her mind. All sound that reached her ears was garbled as if she were underwater. All except one sound, no, a voice.

“Ursa. Give the kind Crownsguard the tome.”

How sweet that voice was. It filled her heart with happiness just from hearing it. Her eyes drifted downwards to the tome in question. How could she say no? Of course, she would do anything for that voice.

“Yes,” she replied dreamily.

She deposited the tome into the waiting hands of the female Crownsguard. Now, why did the guard look at her funnily? The thought attempted to take root but something swept it away, only leaving the serenity behind.

As she stood there, the Crownsguard talked with that lovely Voice. Oh, that was the Half-Orc Kosram. How nice a voice he had. It was so pleasant and warm and rang with a clarity that overwhelmed all else. Throughout their entire conversation, the only words Thrace heard were Kosram’s.

“Yes, she’s perfectly fine. This happens all the time. Don’t worry, she will come out of this fit of hers. Yes, yes. The Silver Hammer Inn. And thank you so much, Crownsguard Jorvash. Crownsguard Nandor. Good day.”

Thrace felt a hand on her shoulder guide her forward, and she plodded forward obediently.