Felling a grown troll was not a trifle. When the initial stupefaction had passed, we sought to make the most of what was so nearly a chapter of tragic loss, but became a stroke of luck instead.

Every scrap of the corpse was worth decent money, but also regrettably foul and cumbersome, so we could only take what we could comfortably carry between the six of us. We harvested the thing’s stubby ears, eyeballs, and a few bulky molars, which we wrapped up in cloth and stuffed into our backpacks as proof of the deed. And then we set out once again, determined to reach the northern exit before another night would unload its perils on us.

A couple of miles later, the Earth Vein split two ways.

One branch headed almost directly westward, whereas the other one departed eastward at a slight angle. There were no residential apartments in the vicinity. The path descended along wide, solid steppes, alternating between flat stone terraces and smooth, steep slopes, the ceiling hanging low above, oppressively heavy and monumental.

What we navigated was a defensive structure designed not against monsters within but humans outside. A sign that we were close to the gate. Invaders were here meant to be funneled into a grueling uphill battle against better stationed defenders. The low ceiling made it difficult for archers to reach the opposition on the higher ground, while those above could fling back spears, rocks, oil barrels, and the kitchen sink with improved ease.

The artificial hillside ended on the bank of the Vein’s east branch, close to where the canyons diverged. Failure in taking over the battlements meant being pushed into that bleak abyss. The dwarves of eld certainly had harbored ill plans for man, though for understandable reasons.

For Baloria, the northern kingdoms had been perceived as their primary rival for the mountain’s riches. Who else was there to dread? And yet, the dwarves’ meticulous preparations had amounted to nothing. Human armies never once came to challenge the king under the mountains. Instead, their doom arose from under their feet. Fate was not without irony. What else could you, but pity the small folk?

A lone stone bridge crossed the Vein.

A bridge unnervingly long and narrow. I was not fond of high places, but could only put my faith into dwarven engineering. There was no other way over to the north side, as far as I knew.

Just to be safe, I instructed a generous space to be left between each member. Sergeant Klein went first, then Samuel after him, twenty paces apart, then Thiselt, then Ray, then myself, and Captain Vergil was the rear guard.

The bridge made not a groan or a squeak. It was not purely a stonework demonstration, but had also been fortified by arcane means, the peculiar runic sorcery that only the dwarves knew, a distant relative of the Sigils of Parnasso.

Strengthening runes had been carved onto the tiles on the side of the way to preserve the frame. The combination of cantrips and mathematics had kept the overpass undemolished for over two centuries under the passage of countless feet. There was no reason to think it could fall apart right as we were on it. That was folly. I told myself so, repeatedly, but the dread wouldn’t leave easily. There was too much empty air under me.

I kept my gaze firmly planted on the opposing bridgehead, the depths shut out of my view, and put full effort into moving my legs. Step by step. No one made a sound as we crossed over the harrowing strip of blocks, as if afraid our voices could be the last straw that retired the way. But nothing bad happened.

In ten minutes, we were safely on the north side, a solid, adamant floor beneath us again, and could breathe freely.

Only the last district was left. We considered ourselves half-victorious already.

The formerly vast halls grew here smaller and narrower. Ordinary citizens never lived in these parts. This town was but a terminal between the inside and outside, a buffer. We passed solemn guardhouses with their cerberic watchtowers; stables reserved for outbound riders and incoming guests, now missing both; custom halls and holding cells, and such like facilities for managing streams of travelers, good-intending and undesired just as well.

Naturally, there was not a soul left to hold the fort.

The doors lay open and struck off their rusted hinges. The yards in between the houses were littered with wreckage, broken wagon parts, crates, barrels, and furniture. Anything mobile that could be thrown together to bar the way. There were spiked barricades too, veiled in the dust and cobwebs of centuries, and the dried bones of unrecognizable things.

Only a narrow aisle had been cleared past the garbage, to allow small groups through in single file. We overcame the desolation unchallenged. Trudging through the empty boulevards, and down the corridors swept clear by the feet of adventurers, and peddlers, and messengers, and the honorable dead. And then we were at the high, vaulted entryway, so very high and airy and lofty, but majestic even in forgetting. And then at the gates, the tall bronze doors of yore cast down and strewn over the grassy slopes, bent and mossy, about to be made one with the land. We stepped out of the mouth of the dungeon, and past the sheets of heavy, degraded metal, and down the following stairs, with care and quiet awe, and we were under the open sky at last, at long last, and there stopped and congratulated each other, and were glad.

We came out right on time to pay witness to the falling dusk. The sun’s great disc burned crimson on the eastern horizon, dressed in banners of thinning clouds. Our star was already halfway past the limit of land, but we’d gotten through a little earlier than expected.

In our view ahead was not flat lowland, but one such as struck by many heavy hammers, riddled with highs and lows, and further in the northern horizon towered yet more mountains. But downhill past the rugged foothills, nestled on the bottom of the nearest dale, at the conjunction of pale country roads, was a cluster of little houses. A decorative stone wall trailed around the central handful of buildings, but there were individual groups dotting the view further apart as well. Faint trails of smoke billowed from a multitude of narrow chimneys, and the warm light of life twinkled in the streets and the many windows.

Faulsen, our destination.

The town looked deceitfully close, but there were still some miles left to go.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

We lit a quick fire by the road to rest, and made use of our provisions. It spared us from having to wait for supper in town, when there were still other things left to do.

Night fell quickly with the sun’s leave. We lit lanterns and left downhill. The softness of natural terrain after all that hiking on hard rock was like heaven. Had my feet had a voice of their own, they would surely have sung.

In a bit over an hour, we were pleased to greet the guards’ living human faces upon the gates of Faulsen, though they were not half as happy to see ours.

There was no sign to identify our company as imperials, but we still had to answer several pointed questions regarding the purpose of our visit, where we had come from, and where to bound. But traveling was not criminalized yet, and such a small group couldn’t possibly pose a danger to the township. In this matter, we could be thankful for the Emperor’s foresight. I presented my adventurer tags and answered questions alongside Captain Vergil, and we were finally granted entry.

The Captain had been to Faulsen before and had suitable lodging in mind. I conceded to take his word for it.

The place was an inn along the main street, close to the center of the town, pompously named The Tribunal. It was a tall two-story building with a clean-shingled roof, the walls bearing a fresh coat of paint. Before the entrance was a wide, raised porch, upon which might, in warmer summer days, be set tables for drinkers. But the spring was still too young and raw for that.

I felt the Captain could have elected a less eye-catching location, when the goal was to avoid needless attention, and occupying three rooms in the most expensive inn in town for two nights was not my definition of subtlety. But I couldn’t criticize him too harshly either, when he claimed his choice was largely out of respect for his majesty’s maid, and less for his own pleasure. I hoped Ray would take notes from the Captain on how to speak to women.

Corporal Thiselt and I had one room, while the men shared the other two.

Thoroughly drilled in diligence, the troops, and the hero with them, went to the darkening backyard to maintain their weapons, tools, armors, and our camping gear before calling it a day. I’d cleansed and honed my dagger already on the way, so the only thing left in need of maintenance was this toilsome body. I asked the staff to have a bath filled.

The bathroom was downstairs in the basement.

For a servant, being served by others was never not an awkward experience, but I could only do my best to endure it. Only after the bath was drawn, and I was left to face the steaming tub behind locked doors, just me and the hunk of brass, could I relax a little and undress.

The tub posed on four legs under a slim, blurred window. The basin had been filled to the brim with hot, foamy soap water. Along the smoothed rim had been mounted little racks containing soaps of several varieties, hand mirrors, combs, brushes, dried herbs and flower petals for added scent, and whatnot. It was clearly not the standard country inn experience.

I set my garments down one by one on a bench by the wall, cleanly folded, in the order they were removed. The laced headwrap. The apron. The boots. The black uniform dress and thigh-high stockings. The dress wasn’t simple cloth, but woven of costly Tatarian thread, resistant to cutting and stabbing. Of similar make was the lighter, white underdress. The two layers together could stop even weaker sword blows, though broken bones were unavoidable in such case. The apron and underwear, a camisole and knickers, were but plain linen, however.

I conjured water to promptly rinse my figure, before getting into the tub. Conjured water was always room temperature and felt cold, while the hotness of the bath water caught me by surprise. It was nearly too hot to endure, but not quite over the line. I held my breath till the discomfort gradually passed, and then leaned carefully against the side of the bath and relaxed. Could even boiling water rid me of the cold Baloria had instilled in me?

I looked up through the vapor at the wood-paneled ceiling, and wondered how long it had been since I’d last had a moment of peace to myself like this?

In the palace, nearly every hour of the day was shared with another. Even off-duty, the maids bathed together, dined together, and slept together. I was used to it, but couldn’t claim I ever sincerely enjoyed it. There was always a part of me that wished for distance. But such distance I’d never had, not since I’d left Hallast.

“It’s been almost five years already…”

Only five years, yet it seemed like a lifetime.

Memories of those distant days seemed like they belonged to someone else. I couldn’t claim life had been better then. That would have been a brazen lie. If the me of six years ago could see myself now, she would think I was the princess. Spending nights at a prestigious inn, lecturing heroes, wearing clothes that cost more than the village I was born in. To think there existed a whole class of humans for whom such indulgence was only the bare minimum of acceptable. How did the Farsí feel about the avarice of our species? Was the Dark Lord of Thuria their answer? If so, was it a good thing to send a hero to rid ourselves of our just penalty?

That was not for me to decide. It was all Ray’s headache.

But sometimes, in my weaker moments, I wondered what it would’ve been like to be free again. To come and go without knowing about tomorrow. Then, with a snort, I banished the thought from my mind.

No one was truly ever free.

None alive could remain perfectly neutral and uninvolved.

Being able to choose your own shackles then was unquestionably a blessing.

I sank deeper in the water that smelled of roses and closed my eyes.

“Just a little longer, your highness. Soon I will be with you again.”