“What do you think you are doing!?”

Gail planted the flat of his hand on her chest. If she were human he would have pushed her backwards. Instead Val pushed back against him as a flex of her own strength, snorting a warning.

“Calm, she is with us,” instructed the Vigilant, voice like silk.

Gail turned, confusion on his face. The bells continued to toll still, and the gate behind them closed. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, “I thought your instructions were that none would pass?”

Val glanced about, the Vigilant had already hidden Dorius out of view. In response to Gail’s confusion, they now slipped their arm into Val’s, hand gently placed on her elbow, and made to lead her away.

“Listen to the bells Mayor and do not concern yourself. The orders still remain that none shall pass, except those we invite.” Bells rung clearly within the city walls and Val felt the buzzing swarm. To her it was like having brushed your skin against a stinging plant, a prickling, itching feeling inside her head. The instinct to pull away was almost overwhelming.

“You invite another pet Laon!?” spat Gail, “And not one of your own? For months we have suffered your orders!”

Val grabbed his hand from her chest, and drew it back and above his head, contorting his position so he was off balance. She watched him struggle, futile against her strength. For a moment, she thought he or the other hunters might break into violence and was glad the Vigilant was so close, but the bells worked their compulsion. His eyes that were wide, and hands ready for blows seemed to fade under her, the red from his cheeks dissipating. Instead, the corner of his lip turned into a snarl of disgust as if she were refuse he now wished to be rid of.

“Yes, your kind are welcome here. Dog!” he hissed, she let him snatch his hand from her grasp.

Val felt only pity as he turned with his men and marched into the town.

The Vigilant led her to Dorius, waiting between houses off the main road, he looked curious at seeing the compulsion so closely.

“That is a cheap trick,” he commented to the Vigilant, although his tone very much implied he was not above using similar if he had access to it.

The Vigilant shrugged and released Val’s arm, “We don’t choose the tools given to us, nor the orders.” To that sentiment at least, Val could feel some sympathy. “This is likely the limit though,” they added, “Which is well enough, our carillonists have almost no magic left to tap.”

The Vigilant lead them via the back alleys through the town, walking in parallel to the main thoroughfare but never on it. The buildings were exceptionally strange, every one had been carved in giant, solid pieces from the ground, only the framing of doors, windows and shutters was fresh wood. The roads were smooth and perfect, the corners square and neat. Seams and uneven edges that would have been the evidence of craftsmen were completely missing. The entire town had once been carved from pure magic - just like the fortress at the capital or the outer walls of the Horned Palace.

As they approached the chapel, Dorius let out a gasp of shock. There was glass, great vaulting windows of perfect, colored glass!

Like every other building, the chapel itself was smooth and faultless. The main building that towered overhead was understated, letting its perfect lines and edges speak to the perfection of the magic that had carved it instead of reveling in ostentatious decoration. The glass was glorious, a striking remnant of the old magic. The detailed panels were colored yellows and reds, showing designs primarily of the great Watcher’s eye set against rays of color and texture. At the back was the bell tower, glimpses of the ringing bells visible within the open chamber at the top. Unlike the previous night, when the bells had ceased after the gate was closed, tonight they still ominously rang. Val wondered what Bastian had been left to deal with beyond the wall.

At the door, two horned Fae stood on a relaxed guard, halberds propped on the wall behind them. Their eyes turned to watch Val as she passed, their faces gave no hint of expression unlike the previous ones she had met. Maybe word of her had reached them now?

Several annexes divided off from the main chapel building, which was where the Vigilant led them next. “You will not enter the Chapel with dirt and sweat upon you,” they explained, “Bath first.”

The Vigilant led them within the annex down a corridor of simple bedrooms - all empty. The largest room at the end had two other Vigilants, dressed in their dark, heavy robes, waiting. Within, Val spied a tub with steaming water. Dorius let out a sigh of anticipation, and let himself be guided inside with the Vigilants who shut the door behind them. Val turned, assuming she was to take her usual position guarding his door, but their Vigilant companion laid a gentle hand on her arm again.

“You too,” they said, and gestured to a smaller room back up the corridor. From the doorway, two horned Fae appeared.

The first had a broken horn she clearly remembered. He was easily her height but slimmer in his build. He was dressed simply, in a loin cloth of wolf pelt and a leather gorget-and-pauldron-like ornamental piece across his shoulders. He wore an ornament on his unbroken horn like Val did, a beaded piece made of matte, pitted, black stone beads. The sides of his head were shaved with a mohawk of hair down the center, brushed backwards into an elegant sweep. His face had the tension of someone who did not want to be there.

The second was by comparison petit, slightly shorter than the average human. She was dressed in simple undyed robes and instead had only chin horns. Her hair was cropped short, except for a few long, finger-thin braids hanging down either side to complement her horns, each finished with a single black bead.

Val’s usually unassailable drive to remain near Dorius faltered, she looked between the door and the Vigilant and the waiting Fae for a moment. He wouldn’t know, surely? This was a safe place, surely?

The Vigilant gave her a silky smile, lingering their hand on her arm and drawing her in a gentle gesture away from Dorius’ door. The smaller Fae gestured within, and Val complied.

The broken-horned Fae addressed her as she entered, “This one is Lee’to,” he said, gesturing to the smaller Fae, “She will serve you as handmaid.”

Val watched the Vigilant leave, and turned to him squarely now she had a moment of privacy. Curiosity overwhelmed her hesitation, she may never have another chance.

“I have questions,” she announced.

The Fae shook his head and seemed a little frustrated, beaded charm fluttering with the movement. “I have no orders to answer questions, only serve,” he said simply, he then opened his hands and waited, “I will take your axe.”

Val hesitated, then unstrapped it from her back. He took it one-handed, and gently carried it with him as he shut the door.

Val was left with the smaller Fae, who held wash rags and grabbed Val by a hand to lead her to a tub. The water steamed invitingly, scented herbs had been added to the water creating an earthy, appealing perfume.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Lee’to,” tested Val, unfamiliar with the accented name that differed from the common sounds of human ones. The Fae nodded, and made a gesture with her hand, drawing down a chin horn with her smallest finger and ending in a flick.

“Are you able to answer questions?” Val probed hesitantly. She was unsurprised when the Fae shook her head. Lee’to made several gestures with her hands, then sensing Val’s confusion, slowed and repeated a few, ending with an open handed gesture against her throat, which she repeated several times.

“You cannot speak?” finally interpreted Val.

Her face lit up in obvious joy, she made the throat gesture again with a nod, then gestured Val to the bath. Val stripped, the maid helping her with her clothes with the same deference Val had seen the handmaids at Southold care for Dorius. She then stepped into the tub, and could not help herself a sigh as she sunk into the warm water.

Whoever had filled it had estimated her size well, and it did not overflow instead filling just to the brim. The maid came forward, as if to help Val clean herself, but Val blushed and took the wash rag from her. There were lines she was not comfortable with.

The maid took no offense, and instead moved to the back of her head and began to unbraid her hair for washing. Val worked diligently cleaning herself, the water quickly turning a milky grey from soap and grime. The maid huffed slightly with concern, and instead prepared a bucket of fresh water and stool to finish washing her hair, bidding Val with gentle hands to tip her head backwards to ease her work. Once she was done with her hair, she finally worked with an easy familiarity on her horns, gently untying the strapping Val had decorated herself with and rubbing them down with water then drying and buffing in a scented wax from a small stone pot, while Val luxuriated in the water. She idly noted the bells had finished ringing, the sound had drifted into the background while she bathed and she was not sure exactly when they had stopped.

As the heat from the water faded, the maid bought out a towel and offered it, busying herself with clothing for Val as she rose and dried herself. Val was given not her old clothing to wear, but instead fresh robes. They were simple in their design and undyed, but made of sumptuous fabrics that nobles would wear. The patterns woven into the cuffs were unfamiliar to her and the ties and design of the folds seemed unlike anything she had seen Dorius or his family wear. Val hesitated, but the maid was diligent and responsive to her movements as before. She gently came close to help with the order of the layers and ties, and the complicated wrapping and folding of the waist belt that Val had never had to do before. Again, they had judged her size with a perfect familiarity, where human robes were likely too short or not broad enough for her shoulders and neck, these were an elegant fit. Oddly, the robes were asymmetrical, leaving one arm and shoulder uncovered.

Despite the warm layers, Val felt naked without some sort of armor, and almost as if she sensed her thought the maid next had a decorative leather shoulder piece like the taller horned Fae had worn, to complement the asymmetrical design of the robes. She gestured for Val to sit on the stool she had used to wash her hair, then strapped the decorative armor into place, gentle, experienced hands lifting and turning Val’s arm as she needed. The final flourish to the outfit was a section of wolf pelt, draped over her other shoulder. The fur was fine and dark, and Val patted it curiously.

Lee’to dried her hair next with a fresh towel, and while there was no time to re-braid it she neatly wrapped and pinned it close to her head with long wooden hairpins. Finally, she added the strapping Val had worn on her horns, carefully wrapping it neatly to the same horn Val had originally chosen to wear it on.

Lee’to seemed satisfied with her work, and gestured something to Val with her hands.

“I am sorry, I do not understand,” muttered Val. Lee’to gave a gentle smile, then picked up her hand with a soft familiarity and held it in both of her own hands. She then beckoned her to a standing mirror of polished bronze and gestured for her to look.

Val’s breath caught. She had never once considered herself attractive, if anything her own view of her body was as a sexless weapon - at best its beauty was in the fit of its form for the tasks it undertook. Otherwise, it was all… just not a thing she allowed herself much time for, less she wallow darkly in her own hurt feelings on the matter. The accents human women made for themselves were not made for her, too small or ill-shaped. They often aimed to create the illusion of a ripe figure that would be impossible for her with her lean, rippling muscle. She was aware some men and women found her differences interesting, but dismissed most of it as curiosity after she had learnt better. Instead, she had not really considered that there might be other forms of beauty that could be a better fit for her, she’d had no prior examples.

But the creature that looked back was proud and daunting. Her size and horns were terrible accents to the outfit, reminders of her overwhelming physical presence. The finely tailored clothes were designed for someone with her body - sharp clean lines and crisp folds accentuating the brutal, martial power of her figure. Her horns were buffed to a rich shine, giving her an animalistic ferocity. She knew how to use her body to get her way, even before this sight. But here she saw herself enhanced with an aura of supreme force she had never felt before, that was let down by her gaping expression. She ran her hands through the wolf pelt, petting it gently in awe, and wondered what Bastian would quip if he saw her like this.

The maid beckoned her to the door again, where the taller Fae had waited, her axe still in hand. Lee’to still held her hand with both of hers and gave her a last reassuring smile, then released her and spoke again with her hand gestures. The tall one watched for a moment, then commented, “She says it was a pleasure to serve an Alate, and she wishes you safety on your travels.”

Val cocked her head, “Alate?” it was not a word she had ever heard before.

The broken-horned Fae nodded and returned her axe to her, but did not answer the question, “I am your escort. If you would come.”

Dorius was not yet ready, so the Fae led her to a vestibule outside the main Vigil Chamber to wait. Val remained standing, concerned she would crease her nice robes, and busied herself studying the colored glass windows. Occasionally, a Vigilant would pass through, carrying candles or other preparations for the night, none acknowledging her presence.

Finally, Dorius approached with their Vigilant companion from earlier who had changed into their dark, heavy robes. They had found Dorius a set of rich, elegant robes fitting his station in a deep pewter that was close to the blued-steel hue of his branches' colors. Dorius had a natural elegance for fine clothing, a birth-given arrogance in how he moved and stood. But he gave Val a cheeky half smile as he spotted her, and tucked his hands into his sleeves.

“Interesting look,” he complimented as he looked her up and down, “We should get a set for my tailor to copy.”

Dorius was the type who wanted his retainers on display as an extension of his own presence, he enjoyed having Val at his side as ostentatiously decorated as himself - often even more so than himself. But the look they had erred to was gaudy, part of their disguise in his family's company and was a match to many of their own fashion tastes. Instead, there was a competent, martial understatement to the clothing the Vigilants had prepared for them, and Val could see it giving him thoughts.

The Vigilant looked amused, and gestured now to the doorway of the Vigil Chamber.

The Chamber, like the Chapel itself, had an minimalist aesthetic, with the exception of the brightly colored glass panels on the walls and ceiling. In daylight, the Chamber was likely awash with color, dancing on every surface. At night, lit by candles from within, it was a solemn affair.

At the center was a wide circular dish, filled with water so still its surface reflected the walls like a mirror. Beyond, a dais with an empty stone throne and above the eye of the Watcher on prominent display over the entire room. Behind the throne, dark curtains obscured the back walls on either side of the eye. They were black in the candlelight, but Val was certain in the daylight she would have seen they were actually a deep purple.

The Prime sat on a smaller seat to the side of the throne, they leaned on one hand and had a leg hooked over one arm rest in an almost childish, reclined pose. At their feet, a horned Fae was sprawled on the floor, leaning against the leg of the chair. This one was male, but with the slimmer human proportions that Lee’to had. His horns were unlike any Val had ever seen, two long thin sickles from his forehead that twisted in an elegant wave and arched over the back of his head. He was dressed in the wolf skin loincloth she saw many of the males wear, but his torso was smeared with black mud that had dried and cracked revealing his hairless, ashen skin beneath.

The Prime lifted her free hand in greeting, and Dorius nodded his head as he approached, a gesture indicating he considered them an equal to his own status. Val fell into step behind at his left, striking the centered grim stance she felt most comfortable in at his side. She leant on her axe, both hands resting on the eye between the blades.

The Prime was dressed in the same robes as the other Vigilants, dyed a purple so dark it appeared black. She had long silver hair, unbound, although her face appeared middle aged at most. The mark of her station, the only difference from every other Vigilants' garb, was a heavy amulet around her neck, the now familiar shape of the Watcher’s eye.

“I have come at your bidding for an audience,” began Dorius, “Tell me why you have shut this valley to pilgrims and refused my family's diplomats?”

The Prime remained lazily reclined in her seat, “Welcome, Cinereal Dragon Prince. We have the whole evening, we need not rush to business.”