The aftermath of the battle was not silent, like Niklas had been expecting it to be. Since the newly-appeared swordswoman had cut the ‘head’ of the strange mushroom beast from its “neck”, he had thought that was the end of it and thereafter everything would quiet down. However, this was not to be, for as the two of them stood for a moment breathing heavily, him from fright and her from exertion, a chorus of horrible, shrill wails of pain, fear, and anger erupted behind her, coming out from the dozens of small caps that remained. The ones which bore eyes looked about with manic swiftness, while the many with small mouths cried out unpleasantly and hungrily gnashed their rotting, yellowed teeth.
The woman then stood up from where she knelt and looked back at that hellish, noisy patch. Around it hundreds of thin and spindly roots, now bisected, wriggled above the recently-severed bony hands that littered the dirt.
“Still alive, are we?” The dark skinned woman noted aloud, marching over to the source of the racket. Taking that black-iron bastard sword she carried, she lifted the weapon above her head before plunging it down into the dirt up to its lugs, and then, with the forceful application of a solid boot, it was buried down to its hilt.
The screeching grew even louder then, and Niklas had to cover his ears against the pain the noise caused in his tender, banged-up skull. The woman only grinned as she kicked down upon the pommel at a particular angle. After that the very ground burst up in a spurt of mud and fungus! The patch of yawning shrooms flew up as if suddenly lifted by a great force, revealing a great pulsating, marble-white organ beneath it all!
“One more should do it!” She declared, and once again she stomped heavily upon the pommel of her sword.
The entire organ was violently levered up then, and a wave of damp-smelling dirt showered all around it from the unhuman force of her blow. Niklas was horrified to see that amongst the dark, rich dirt were what looked to be many old bones–ones that appeared quite human! And with that, there upon the upturned forest floor lay the main body of the Monster, now fully uncovered, with those many hundred of veiny roots leading straight back to it.
“How did you make it so far past the Fort, I wonder..?” The woman mused to herself as she approached that writhing mass. She did not, however, bother waiting for any sort of answer. She sucked in a breath as she raised the blade above her head one final time, and for but an instant Niklas detected several loud, static-like cracks about her body as she went, before she drove her sword directly down into the heart of this beast! The Monster let out one last screeching chorus as it began to spasm violently, and more alarming still, plumes of dark smoke began to billow up from it, causing the whole of that little clearing to stink of burning meat. Its awful death throes lasted for ten long seconds, which felt more like an eternity to Niklas as he watched its pale flesh brown and then blacken from the inside-out with some unseen heat. Finally, the creature fell silent and still, and the woman wrenched her blade free from the now-charred crevice in its body.
She then turned back to face the young Count where he still lay upon the ground, shaking a bit, and as she approached she smoothly slid her sword into its sheath upon her back. She grinned down at him and stretched a hand out for him to take, and from up close he could better observe her peculiar features. Her skin was a dark copper and the shaved-short hair around her ears was dark, but as her hair traveled up her scalp to the messy, tomboyish tuft at the top, it grew lighter steadily until it was a bright blond! What’s more, strange scars which resembled branching vines traveled up her neck and down her muscled arms, which seemingly originated somewhere on her shoulders, with the exact point hidden by her shirt. Most notable, however, were her eyes, whose bright gold irises were ruptured in such a way that they resembled many-pronged stars!
Niklas studied her with his eyes for a long, dazed moment before he finally recovered his wits enough to take her outstretched hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. His legs were still weak from fright and shook when he put his meager weight upon them, and he stumbled so clumsily that his savior had to catch him so that he did not fall back down!
“Woah, easy there! You’ve been through quite a story, eh? Let’s get you back to your horse, my new little friend.” She offered cheerfully.
As they departed that place, with his arm slung over her shoulders, they did not see that wretched creature exhale its last breath, releasing some strange, greenish plume into the air as it died.
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“What have you done?!”
Kaiser van der Leigh brought the full force of his fist down upon his desk, which groaned terribly and caused him to startle a bit despite his rage. He liked this desk, and he would be loath to see it ruined due to a moment of heated emotion. He shot a glare back over to his daughter, who stood in proudly, demure defiance before him, meeting his furious look with a mischievous grin that she barely pretended to hide behind one manicured hand.
“Why father, whatever could you be so upset over?” She asked, her tone too composed and innocent to be anything but mocking.
The patriarch’s only answer was to snatch a parchment scroll off of the face of his desk and thrust it towards his daughter, non-verbally demanding for her to read it. He ground his teeth in anger, but a bead of nervous sweat was also trickling down his broad, deeply-furrowed brow. She observed the proffered document, her expression nonplussed, with the same bemused distaste as if he were handing her a flier advertising some cheap circus.
“Would you care to explain to me why, after you made an unannounced excursion to the Royal Palace, the King himself is now sponsoring the repair of our mine from his personal coffers?” He practically spat out then as a vein prominently throbbed on his swiftly-reddening brow.
Despite his clearly burgeoning rage, Frith faced him with a bright grin that he knew meant she felt quite smug, which did not help his temper. “Why, father, I thought you would have been overjoyed!” She cooed. “Your dilemma has been resolved smoothly, which means you are no longer so financially burdened that you cannot fulfill your obligation to deliver brother’s dowry, even if it’ll arrive a little behind schedule.”
Kaiser wanted nothing more than to respond to her with a raised voice and continue venting his rage, but as his better sense whispered words of caution to him from the back of his mind those words were caught in his throat, for he knew that if he actually spoke them aloud they would have been most unwise and damaging. No, he was better than that. He shut his eyes for a moment and let out a long, shaky exhale as he slumped back into his chair.
“...What did you promise him?” He asked her once he could trust himself to speak again, attempting to rub the stress from his temples as he did so.
She folded her arms calmly. “That is a personal matter between myself and His Majesty. Never you mind that, father.”
“Frith!” He could not stop himself from raising his voice then, his emotions still running quite high.
She was taken aback for a moment at that–not because of his volume, but because his voice carried an unusual cord of anguish hidden under the usual veil of anger–though she quickly retained her confident and composed demeanor.
“If you must know, I have agreed to be his partner in a couple of months, at the upcoming Founding’s Day Ball. Besides having to withstand his company for an evening, it is not so terribly daunting a promise.”
But despite her calm reassurances, her father still groaned with deep-felt exasperation. Frith cocked an eyebrow at his reaction, for it was rather unusual–their family had not an antagonistic relationship with King Boratan II. Nay, their standing with him had remained, even at its worst, quite firmly neutral.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Something smells fishy here… She thought to herself, her gaze upon him narrowing as her suspicions grew. That his daughter making a simple social appearance alongside His Majesty would cause him such anguish… What has my father gotten us into now?
“He supplied this much coin just to dance as your partner at the Ball?” The Baron asked then, his tone incredulous with obvious disbelief.
Frith simply waved her hand dismissively then, as if to brush his worries aside like so much dust. “If there were any hidden strings or fine print in our agreement then the King is truly the most quick-witted schemer the continent has ever seen. Be assured, I was the one who caught him unawares on this occasion. Perish the thought that he prepared some clever trap before our meeting–he had not even enough time to prepare his hair!”
Kaiser sighed again in response to this, although not as heavily this time as he had before. “...I suppose our family should receive it as a point of pride, then. That my daughter is so sought after that a King would gift us a mine simply for her attention…” He grumbled, his gaze distant as his mind worked to process the current situation.
“Quite.” was Frith’s succinct reply, retaining her business-like demeanor. “Well, if there is nothing else you wish to say to me–”
“--Yes, leave me.” Kaiser sternly interrupted her.
Not needing any further prompting, his proud daughter swiftly turned on her heel and walked to the door, though as she opened it she stopped to look back over her shoulder at where her father still slumped in his chair.
“The dowry…” She said in a tone of command that was poorly pretending to be a question, to which her father simply waved a dismissive hand at her– a gesture she was annoyed to realize that she had learned from him.
Not wishing to push him any further for the day, she then made her exit and let the door click shut behind her. Her face, however, was grim. Despite how well that conversation had gone compared to her previous attempts, she still had not yet wrangled a definitive promise out of that bull-headed father of hers. Meanwhile, back inside his now-quiet study, Kaiser was squeezing his fists until his knuckles were white from the strain.
“All of this effort…” He griped under his breath like a curse. “All of this sacrifice, and it’s all for that--” He held his tongue for a moment as countless ill words flitted through his mind. “--boy.” He finished, mercifully.
He then reached across the table to his right for a picture frame which had toppled over during his angry outburst. It held a portrait of a woman with curly brunette hair, who could not help but wear a wide smile even as the artist had warned her not to, for the strain had left her cheeks aching for days afterwards. He sighed one last time, though this time it was heavy with entirely different emotions, as he ran one callused finger over the smooth glass of the frame.
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“So you’re headed to Coronton, ey?”
Back on the road, the dark-skinned swordswoman walked beside Niklas as he rode his steed at a casual pace, for now proceeding back in the direction from whence she came.
“I was meanin’ to visit Coronton myself, anyhow, so I guess I shall join you! If you’ll be coming back this way then I can still go where I was meaning to, just in the wrong order, but with a friend!”
Her ever-cheerful and grinning demeanor once again reminded him somewhat of Thomas. Despite having seen similar flamberges in action before, the lad couldn’t help but sneak a few curious glances at the weapon on her back every so often. For about half of the length of the sheath it only covered the edges of the blade, supposedly designed that way so drawing and replacing it on her back would be more convenient.
She may indeed know Thomas, if they are both Hunters and share such a similar disposition. He mused to himself.
“What do I call you, madam?” He asked. “I would like to know the name of the one to whom I will be eternally indebted to.”
“Pshh, nonsense!” She said, waving away his gratitude as if it were a thick smoke billowing into her face. “I was simply doing my job, and rather poorly at that, for such a beast to have appeared so deep inside the territory!”
She pointed a thumb towards herself proudly. “You can call me Nayantara, from the Southern Lands!” From her vocal mannerisms, Niklas could tell she had likely been taught the common tongue by someone out of Otkorn. And Niklas swore her starry irises flashed a bright golden color as she did so.
He opened his mouth to introduce himself in turn, but was cut off as she continued to speak effusively.
“Actually, I was on my way to Castle Petrice, originally! In the village where I was stayin’ some ruffians appeared demanding coin and able bodies for some work. ‘On the orders of the new Count’ they said! Well, it’s lucky I was there to run ‘em off! So I was on my way to give that new Count a piece of my mind about all this taxation business, and tell him to quit!”
At that, Niklas’ adam's apple bobbed as he gulped nervously.
“Anyways put ‘er there stranger!” She said, extending a hand for him to shake. “What can I call ye?”
“N-Niklas.” he stammered in reply as he hesitantly shook her hand. “Just Niklas.”
“Well, ‘just Niklas’, I suppose it shall be you and me on the road to Coronton and back. And don’t you worry none–I’ll make sure any more Beasties that might’ve snuck past the Fort don’t trouble you one bit!”
Niklas couldn’t help but return her grin with a weak smile of his own, although he was still a little nervous. “I shall be in your care then, Nayantara.”
And so the two unplanned companions walked onwards for a good, long while. Nayantara always had some comment to share about whatever she happened to see, and whatever that thing reminded her of, too. She was different from Thomas in that regard; Thomas would have entertained Niklas’ idle chatter, but he also had periods of quiet contemplation during which neither traveler would speak, but simply enjoy their thoughts and the ever-changing sights of the surrounding countryside. She, on the other hand, never seemed to run out of words to say, and once she had swept Niklas up in conversation, the time and the long road would pass by faster than he could blink!
Before he knew it the sun was just about to set, once more and Chestnut was shuddering a bit from the effort of walking all day at her age.
“I suggest that we set up camp for the night. I had forgotten that this poor girl has had such little rest!” He declared, rubbing his weary steed about her mane.
She readily agreed, and so they found a spot to rest a few dozen meters off of the main road. Both of them had obviously only prepared travel rations for one, and Niklas’ stock was fresher and much higher in quality. So, as in thanks for her good deed earlier that day, he offered that they might pool their food stores together and prepare a meal that both of them could enjoy. Nayantara accepted the offer graciously, and even offered to do the cooking herself. After spending some time over a stew-pot and fire, she returned bearing two wooden bowls filled with a steaming, mushy substance that had been sprinkled with colorful toppings.
“I picked this recipe up during my travels in the Easterlands!” She declared as she handed him his bowl. “It was called ‘congee’ or something like that, although the grains they used to make it were different from the oats I have. But I make do with what I have!”
It turned out to be a delightfully savory oat porridge, which had been garnished with the diced, dried meats and vegetables from Niklas’ bags. It was a bit of a hodgepodge recipe, if her words were to be believed, but delicious nonetheless. Indeed, the pair of them both devoured their bowls of the stuff greedily, and returned for seconds too. Truthfully, anything with flavor seemed most appealing to Niklas after so many weeks eating nothing but a bland gray gruel. A meal would have to be something truly vile to him to not welcome it as a distraction from the nauseating boredom he was forced to endure at the Castle.
Feeling most satisfied from that evening’s meal, Niklas had no sooner laid his head back against Chestnut’s belly than did the two of them fall into a deep slumber, both man and beast obviously more drained than either had realized, and feeling most safe under the watchful gaze of their Huntress companion. As the two began to breathe in the soft, rhythmic patterns of those sound asleep, the woman with starry eyes leaned back against a dry and leafless young tree herself and drifted into the kind of peculiar and wary half-sleep that only a truly seasoned Adventurer could maintain.
No trouble would make it past her keen senses and well-honed instincts, even at rest.