Over the course of travel, Jeroam and Shyk gradually left the towns and villages under royal guard behind and came to more open land. They were still in the foothills of the mountain range, but close to leaving them, and entering into the parts of Yvergn under threat of banditry. Thankfully the hardy Yvergnian people were taking care of themselves by hiring or even becoming mercenaries. One such mercenary was a young woman named Alyse, who lived in a village north of Scyianne called Eutho.

Eutho was a remote village by nearly any standard, with a small population and not a single building above one story. The buildings were made with white stone and pale wood and comfortably fit in with the terrain while also making it clear that they were well settled in this place. Alyse was the only woman mercenary in the town, but she was respected, she was also surprisingly gentle for a mercenary. She had built up a reputation among the local brigands as being the last one to be caught by, because she would lecture them until dawn the next day. In fact, of the bandits she had faced few returned to the life of thievery. Some had come to live in the village, settling down and finding work in the fields and a warm reception beyond their reckoning. Yvergnians weren't blind to the troubles of their neighbors, but when factoring monsters on top of the bandit troubles the mercenaries couldn't be called upon for war, and on top of that war was the last thing the Yvergnian people wanted, even if it would topple a tyrant and stem the steady flow of ne'er-do-wells. This created a necessity of compassion as one poet had put it. If the bandits could be tamed, rather than shamed, hatred could avoid being spread further. However, the desperate vagabonds were not all so easily changed and the abuses they had suffered made them deeply distrustful and envious. Thus the cycle continued and blood was inevitably spilled.

As for where Alyse fits into this picture; on that particular day as she was doing the rounds patrolling the perimeter of the town. She stopped to inspect a bush of deep purple flowers, when she heard a voice coming from behind.

“Greetings sister!” called out a young man in a peculiar floppy hat, in an equally peculiar dialect that she didn't recognize.

“Um, why hello there...? Can I help you?” she replied courteously.

“Yes sister! I'm so very bored, so I was searching for someone to play a bit of mischief on, you are a great candidate, so there!”

Without giving her a chance to react, the young man stretched out a hand, a circle of light flashed out from it, creating a ring around his head, then hers.

“What is this!?” Alyse cried, but the young man merely cackled.

Alyse shook her head in astonishment, and in doing so caught a glimpse of something as purple as the flowers behind her.

“Mm, mm! It's great! A great mischief! Ha ha ha!”

Alyse stopped and took a moment to inspect her hair, stunned by the suddenness of the event. Her once flaxen yellow hair was now a deep dark shade of purple. Had it been something she had asked for she might be inclined to think it beautiful, but having it done as a prank left little room for such admiration.

“How could you!” she looked up ready to scold the scamp, but he was gone. There wasn't even a trace of him around. Such was the suddenness of it all that for half a moment she thought it might've been a ghost or hallucination. However her hair was still purple, so that wasn't likely.

“That rascal! I didn't even get his name,” Alyse huffed. She decided to give up on chasing him down as she didn't have the faintest idea of where he would have gone and given he was a mage of some kind he could be halfway across the globe.

“What a silly way to use magic,” Alyse complained, being inaffinate herself she couldn't fathom using the mystic arts for something so superficial and mischievous, but she had heard that mages were a capricious sort to begin with. Mages were few in Yvergn, as those with magical talent traditionally went to study at specialized academies in Naukt or Bantol, but given the unrest in Bantol and tight security of Naukt it was fair to say that most Yvergnian magic users were either self-taught or old enough to remember the good times of their neighbor. Mercenary Mages were so rare in fact that those who existed were talked about with sparkling eyes and folk tales. Suffice to say, there were no mages in Eutho, so the impish youngster was truly a mystery to Alyse.

With a sigh, Alyse finished her patrol and decided to take a meal at the mess hall the villagers had built for the mercenaries. As she entered she heard some gasps, and a few snickers which were quickly silenced by jabs to the ribs by other fellows.

“Oho, what is ze matter miss Alyse?” a stoutly built man in an apron behind a counter called as she entered, taking note of her downcast expression and new hair color.

“Oh it's nothing, Jaque. Some whimsical little fellow played a prank on me is all.”

“Hon hon? Sounds like a strange encounter indeed. Cheer up mademoiselle, have some cake! It is straight out of ze oven.”

Jaque had lived in Eutho longer than Alyse had, but he spoke with a thick accent that no one seemed to be able to place. Someone had once suggested he made it up, but Jaque insisted it was an homage to his homeland to which he could never return, and refused to elaborate further.

“Still, I zink ze new colour suits you, non?”

“It's not the color I mind so much, really. I'm just frustrated he got the jump on me.”

“Ach, well zat is surely so! Come, come! Jaque will give you somezing nice!” the chef said emphatically, and plopped a sizable portion of heavenly smelling meat onto her tray. Alyse smiled brightly.

“You're a real pal Jaque!”

“Anytime! You keep zis place safelike, 'tis ze least humble Jaque can do!”

Alyse took her tray and turned to find a seat when she noticed her friend Archer, who specialized in the bow and arrow, waving to her. He was often teased about his name but always brushed the comments off with a smile and said, “My parents just had great foresight is all.”

Alyse sat down next to him, and immediately he asked her.

“Need me to turn the scoundrel into a pincushion?”

A brawny man with a friendly face leaned in as well, “If so, count me in. No one touches the flower of Eutho's mercenary troop and gets away with it!”

Alyse laughed, “Thanks, but I don't think we'll have much luck. He disappeared right after the deed, the slippery wretch.”

Arceher wrinkled his nose, “What's a mage who can teleport doing all the way out here, and playing pranks on honest working women?”

Alyse shrugged, when it was spelled out like that she realized for the second time just how odd the circumstance was.

The brawny man shook his head, “Don't try to figure out what goes on in their magic-addled brains, you'll only give yourself a strain.”

Archer chuckled, “That's saying a bit much, my grandfather studied magic!”

“And where's he now?”

“Now now,” Alyse intervened with a smile knowing the bulky fellow meant no harm, and that Archer was as serious as they came.

Alyse ate and bantered until she was full.

“Alright, I'm going to go see the healer, just in case,” she said resolutely.

“You should've done that first...” Archer pointed out.

“But I was hungry,” Alyse countered flatly, and for a moment they stared silently at each other, then they burst into laughter.

Alyse left the mess hall and headed for the healer's house and shop. As she walked old thoughts came up in her mind, particularly those about setting off from Eutho village and going to see more of Yvergn. Though Eutho wasn't the town she was born into, it was the place she had lived the longest. Originally she belonged to a nomadic family of shepherds, or the Te-draean equivalent since they herded not sheep but a woolly beast of distant relation to the vanasheara, these called yargedi. They were docile and numerous and many flocks roamed the plains of Yvergn. The all too common tragedy Alyse had met as a child growing up among the shepherds was that one day her parents never came home, and some weeks later a relative came bearing news that monsters had targeted the flock and her parents were too slow in getting away and were slain protecting the yargedi. Since then she had decided to do her best to get strong and eventually found herself in Eutho. It was there she met mercenaries for the first time and decided to become one herself.

Perhaps then it was natural that she would want to move on eventually, it was in her blood to keep moving after all. However she still felt obligated to Eutho, and she did have friends there. All in all, unless an external factor gave her a nudge, it was unlikely she would leave.

The healer was a middle aged man with graying hair and well kept beard, simple but high quality clothes afforded him by his profession. Healers, especially in Yvergn, were physicians as well as herbalists. Healing magic was rare and complex, but the flora of Te-drae was bathed in mana, giving rise to potent herbal medicines that treated diseases and injuries of all kinds. That said, if one lost an arm to a monster no common tonic or poultice could bring it back. In exchange, blood loss could be halted in seconds, shock reduced, pain eliminated and these without high risk of addiction. Though not entirely unheard of, healers were well versed in how to apply their craft and kept their supplies under lock and key, so truly only the unfortunate or desperate found themselves enslaved to the substances.

Another part of the healing tradition was a rudimentary knowledge of healing magic's effects on the body, as botched application, wasting disease, and deep tissue scarring were all possible and could lead to other health problems. It was this knowledge Alyse was hoping might come in handy, as Eutho's healer had an extensive collection of books on other forms of magic as well, even though as far as she knew he was inaffinate just like she was.

She entered the shop of the healer, a kind of tent-like building set up not so far from his house proper. Inside shelves were set up and full of various jars, leaf parcels, small boxes and bottles, each filled with an herbal concoction of some kind.

“Healer! Do you have some time for me?” Alyse called into the tent.

A muffled voice replied a moment later, “Hmm? Oh yes, Alyse. Come in, come in.”

Alyse made her way to the back of the tent, and then behind a curtain that separated the tent's interior, creating another room for some privacy for patients. The healer started, immediately noticing her hair.

“Good gracious!? What happened lass?”

Alyse explained her situation, as the healer led her over to a couch set up in the back space. Once she finished, and sat down, the healer began his inspection.

He pulled out a few books, adjusting a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, which was scrunched up in perplexity. He took a lock of Alyse' hair in his hand and passed a magnifying lens over it, a tool he used often and had received from his teacher in the healing arts that was enchanted with the ability to detect mana in the body. This helped not only treat bad healing magic jobs, but helped him distinguish between diseases, blights, and curses. The prank played on Alyse rang up as a weak curse, but it had some peculiarities the healer was out of his depth on.

“Well, I'm sorry to say there isn't anything I can do for you myself. But I can also say that it isn't going to do you any real bodily harm, so you may take comfort in that.”

Alyse sighed with relief, and then exasperation, “That's good. But what should I do now?”

The healer stroked his beard, “I could give you a letter of introduction to a friend of my master's, from what I hear they're a powerful mage. However, I've never met them. I couldn't even say if they were still alive, they were quite old already when my master met them, and it has been nearly twenty years since I left my master...”

Alyse gave it some thought, but decided against it, “Thank you, but I think I'm alright. So long as I know it's not going to kill me, or start spreading or something.”

The healer chuckled, “That much I can assure you of.”

Alyse bid the healer farewell and headed home for the day, planning to get an early start the next. Alyse stayed in the female barracks, even though she was currently its only resident, the villagers had erected two buildings for the mercenaries to use as lodging. It had been a gesture of gratitude for their protection, and the barracks were the two newest and nicest structures within the village.

The next morning Alyse woke early, she had a quick breakfast of dried meat and fruit, and headed out into the town for the morning patrol. The mercenaries in Eutho had become a kind of police force as well, though thankfully thus far no big incidents had occurred. This said, it is worth noting that it was really a ramshackle affair. The village elder was put in charge of final say, that is to say made judge, while the mercenaries were merely in charge of using force to subdue rowdy suspects. Even the structure of their mercenary corps was lax, the leader was simply the oldest among them, while roles were divided by talent and as they grew accustomed to working together things took on more solidity. The timid could sometimes end up in awkward scenarios where they weren't making the most of their talents, but couldn't find the timing to speak up until finally a bolder ally took notice and changed roles or helped find more suitable work. A typical day for the mercenaries involved milling around the village and nearby countryside making sure everything was peaceful, and if it wasn't they would use force to make it so again. If something need to be reported so that it was known to the whole village and mercenary corps the village elder would be notified, and from him the others would be told. Typically the mercenaries operated in trios, consisting of a fast runner, scout, bulky person, tank or vanguard, and someone with a ranged weapon or good agility, support or rearguard. Alyse was one such rearguard. She focused on speed, and with her small frame she was hard to hit. On a day like today, Wednesday, Alyse was fine to wander the town alone because the nearby monster population was under control and no bandits had been seen in the area for nearly three months.

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

That was one of her primary reasons for considering leaving the village. As she made her way out of the back lanes of the dirt and lightly cobbled roads of the village she saw a form that piqued her interest. A tall armored figure stood conversing with one of the villagers who was selling fruit. She watched as some coin changed hands, and the armored figure put the purchased fruit into a pack. Curious, she followed the figure. Along the way they stopped many times, seemingly stocking up for a long journey. Finally the figure began heading in the direction of the healer's tent. Alyse dashed silently around the back way, arriving nearly five minutes before the man in armor, having heard him speak with some of the village merchants she knew that much about him now.

Having watched all his shopping, its was nearly two in the afternoon. Alyse stood outside the healer's shop, deciding whether to enter and talk to the armored man as a fellow customer or guide him in, when from behind her she heard a surprised bass voice.

“That's some interesting hair you have!”

Alyse turned, and to her surprise the hair that entered her vision as she did so was in the middle of transitioning from purple back into blonde!

“!?” such was her shock that only a strange sound escaped her throat.

A moment later the healer poked his head out of the tent.

“Oh? Why, good day Alyse. What brings you back so-” he stared at her hair, now back in final flaxen fullness, “Now that is odd,” his eyes then found the armored figure and his eyes widened and he stepped out of the tent and with reverence in his voice said, “Ah! My lord, what brings you here?”

The man in armor chuckled pleasantly, “Greetings healer! I've come to purchase some ointment and...what do you know about wyverns?”

Alyse' ears perked up at the mention of wyverns. They were incredibly rare monsters, at least this far south in Yvergn. They were rumored to live up in the northern mountains, though smaller variants nested everywhere. These smaller variants were good at pest control and shy of people, on top of being able to fly; young boys dreamed of catching them, but they were too quick for human legs, let alone children legs, to catch. More common and therefore popular in houses were the garden variety of wyrms. These too in far off places were rumored to be large and wild, but turning over a big rock or rotting stump and you would find them among the salamanders and snakes. This comparison brings up the difference between beasts and monsters, which is simply mana. Monsters had specialized organs, or in rare cases an intellect, that could handle mana for use in their day-to-day activities. Another common monster would be the drake. These three all boasted claims of some distant relation to dragons. Drakes walked on legs numbering anywhere from four to ten. Wyrms slithered on their bellies, but some had a pair or two of legs, many had frills or whiskers. Wyverns boasted the most decidedly uniform anatomy, all had a pair of wings and a pair of legs. Just as with their varied forms, they came in a variety of sizes across the continent. It seemed the further from human settlements one went the larger and more ferocious they became. So much so that when the names were used, it was implied to be the large kind as the smaller ones had colloquial names. This much was common knowledge, especially among mercenaries since medium drakes and wyrms were among the kinds of threats they were in charge of chasing off or slaying. It was always a gamble with them as well, because some species could breath fire or had venomous bites while others oozed poison or had scales that shattered iron while still others could create gale force winds without wings or spit light, create pillars of earth, cloak themselves in shadows, become slippery as though underwater, create dense freezing mist, or arcs of lightning. Thankfully Eutho, though remote, was still well within the bounds of civilization therefore such encounters were few and with careful planning the mercenaries had successfully driven off those that had occurred. Alyse had even helped on at least one of those occasions. That said she, nor any Euthonian mercenary, had actually managed to slay a wyrm or drake that had invaded. Wyverns held all those potential powers on top of flight. Still, study of the little ones who lived in the forests revealed the weaknesses of the larger ones, so long as this village had Archer it wouldn't soon be overrun.

“Well, not much more than our mercenary friend here,” the healer said, nodding to Alyse, “Why do you ask?”

“Mm, I encountered a wounded wyvern and have been trying to mend its wing, but I only knew enough to apply some pain killing ointment and bandages.”

Alyse was still reeling from threefold shock, first the healer addressing the man in armor as 'my lord,' second from her hair's sudden seeming recover, and third that the armored man was actively caring for wyvern, which he called a 'wyvern' in no uncertain terms meaning it wasn't one of the little ones who hunted mice and rabbits in the woods nearby. As if to deal her a finishing blow, the noble armored man added.

“It's quite large, even among the reading I have done nothing had done it justice.”

“A-are you sure that it's safe?” Alyse asked timidly.

The man put a finger to where his chin would be if his helmet wasn't in the way, but there was no awkwardness to the gesture, clearly he was accustomed to it.

“I quite hope so, though I doubt anything would be so foolhardy as to approach him. Just in case I did ask him to wait outside of town...”

The man had taken her question as in concern for the wyvern, not the town itself for having such a reportedly large monster nearby.

“Hmm, I'll have to take a look myself to be sure,” the healer said. While not totally nonchalant, he was certainly many degrees calmer than Alyse thought merited the situation.

“Lord Jeroam, might I have a moment to gather supplies?”

“Of course! Rather, I should be thanking and bowing to you for accepting such a strange and incredible request!”

The name Jeroam shook Alyse from her stupor.

“J-j-j-je?”

“Hmm?” Jeroam tilted his head as Alyse stuttered pointing a shaky finger at him.

“JEROAM?! As in, the KING Jeroam?!” she spluttered.

“Hmm? Oh, yes! I suppose you wouldn't know with the armor!” the healer chuckled, clearly knowing something Alyse didn't.

Jeroam himself put a hand behind his helmet sheepishly, “Well I am making an effort to be somewhat quiet about my whereabouts. But this isn't the first time I've visited Eutho. The healer and I met last time I came. I'd tripped in the forest and gotten a nasty scrape. Thanks again for patching me up, kind sir.”

“The honor is mine! Not many in my profession can say they have treated the king himself and not be fibbing!” the healer called, Alyse heard rummaging from within the tent as the healer filled a sack of his own with various potions, ointments, bandages, poultices, splints and the like.

“I-I'm so sorry if I've behaved brashly your highness!” Alyse hurriedly apologized.

“No, no think nothing of it! I'm just a well off traveler for the time being, please treat me as such,” Jeroam said, tilting his helmet to the side in place of a wink.

The healer exited his tent with his sack, “Still, to think your highness would be out of the castle and in our little town. With a wyvern in tow no less! What could be the matter?”

Jeroam's mien changed, Alyse felt that the air around him got heavier and his shoulders sunk slightly.

“Yes, well it certainly isn't good tidings,” Jeroam said slowly.

Alyse watched him curiously, wondering if he would elaborate. Before he could however the healer interjected, “In that case we need not hear of it. Just come back safely in the end and then all things will be well. Surely!”

Jeroam perked up slightly, and the helmet bobbed in agreement, “Yes. Yes I think you're exactly right. Now, let us go to Shyk!”

Alyse and the healer tilted their heads before realization dawned on them.

“You've already named the thing, sire?” the healer asked hesitantly.

“No, he told me when I asked his name,” Jeroam said nonchalantly.

“It can talk!?” Alyse chirped, at this point ready to believe anything.

“No no, he wrote it on the ground for me. Ah, but that sounds incredulous enough doesn't it...” Jeroam said, realizing the effects his words were having on the pair, “Never mind, let me show him to you so you can understand.”

As they walked towards the edge of town, Alyse found herself getting excited. She had been thrown for a loop for a while, but as she listened to Jeroam and the healer discuss more mundane things about life in the town her interest in the wyvern grew. As a shepherd's daughter she was no stranger to small wild things, and had played with young boys with just as much enthusiasm about the little creatures as they had, as well as dreaming of becoming friends with some huge creature. That little dream now presenting itself to her again filled her heart with warmth. The walk hadn't been so long, but with the prior conversation in mind about two hours had passed. Alyse felt a tingle run down her scalp and neck, and suddenly her hair shifted back to purple. Jeroam and the healer studied her in awe.

“Aha!” said the healer suddenly, “So that's it! Why that rapscallion! What a cad!”

“What what what!?”Alyse pleaded.

“That mage who placed that 'curse' on your hair, I had wondered how he made such a weak curse so difficult to undo, but he's put some bizarre conditions into it!”

“You've been cursed with purple hair? What an odd curse indeed,” Jeroam said, mystified.

“It was an odd mage,” Alyse said plainly, “But enough of my hair! Let's go see the wyvern, er Shyk, right?”

Jeroam brightened, “Indeed! He awaits my return, surely!”

Shortly, they came out of the village and entered a thick wood with immediate and obvious signs something large had just passed through.

“Shyk!” Jeroam called and for a moment there was silence. Alyse wondered if the scent of herself and the healer had the creature on edge, but after a moment the sound of displaced undergrowth and snapping branches dispelled her fear of that, and replaced it with the terror one has in realizing their own smallness.

Shyk towered over the mercenary girl, four amber eyes locked in on her two green. It was a handsome creature, with a long snout and horned head. His horns faced backward, two above his neck and two below, smooth and conical, like ivory pillars that rounded into points. They weren't perfectly white, but a kind of gray that matched his black gradated scales, which turned from metallic black to iridescent navy as light struck them. Only his wing membranes were matte, and these a soft leather black. The ivory of his talons and tail blade appeared more metallic than ivory, even though they were similar in color to the horns crowning his head.

The healer dropped his sack and sputtered in awe.

“It's huge!”

“Indeed,” said Jeroam.

“Gigantic!” continued the healer.

“Truly.”

“Enormous!!”

“Aye,” Jeroam said with mirth.

Alyse gingerly approached the creature, her girlhood dream barely winning out over sheer terror.

“H-hey there big fella...” she said, not knowing what she was doing.

Shyk made a guttural noise and put his snout into her hand, seeing she meant no harm, and even that she meant his good.

Even just the tip of his snout was about seven times as large as the palm of Alyse' hand. She was a warrior and her hands were not particularly small, and they were calloused from long years training with the sword.

But to the scaly snout of a wyven, even the most beefy calloused warrior hands are soft as babes, and Shyk enjoyed the caress of Alyse hands. Seeing this Alyse went in and began to pour affection onto the wyven. Jeroam smiled beneath his helm as he watched them, and seeing Alyse unharmed and playing with the wyvern as one might a cat or large dog, the healer begain inspecting the injured wing.

After replacing the bandages Jeroam had put on and applying a stronger dose of pain killing herbs, the healer gave Shyk a poultice of herbs that sped up natural recovery and prevented stiffness in joints.

“Replace it twice daily for the next three days and I dare say he'll fly again in no time!” was the healer's verdict.

“Isn't that great Shyk?” Alyse said, hugging the wyvern's flank.

Shyk bobbed his head enthusiastically, and a deep rumble shook the very ground. Something almost akin to a purr.

“Thanks for your help,” Jeroam said giving the healer payment for his services, the healer tried to resist, but Jeroam insisted. He had come as a traveler, not a king.

Jeroam decided to stay in the village until Shyk was ready to fly again.

The three days were uneventful for the king, but he spent his time around the townsfolk and with Shyk to replace the poultices. The wyvern was always happy to see him, and more and more Jeroam felt from him that they were together for the long haul, which made him happy.

Alyse meanwhile had come to a decision. She would go with the king on his journey. She didn't know if he would let her, but meeting him had ignited the flames of passion in her. She wanted to see more of Yvergn, and with him she would have that chance, that was how she saw it. She spent the three days saying her goodbyes.

“You're really going?” Archer asked, his eyes were serious but his tone was of acceptance.

Alyse nodded emphatically, “I want to see more of Te-drae, starting with Yvergn!”

Archer looked to the ceiling of the mess hall, where they were talking, and sighed. Then looked back to her, “I thought you'd leave someday, just not so suddenly,” he confessed.

“W-we're all gonna miss ya!” the brawny mercenary said, eyes and nose streaming fluid.

“Zere, zere, no more crying big guy. Alyse may yet come and visit, non?”

“Someday I'll come back, for sure!” Alyse said reassuring them.

“See? What did I tell you. Here, I made zis for you. Take care now,” Jaque said, handing her a neatly packaged bundle, “Twil be many many times better zen 'ardtack I can assure you.”

“Thanks Jaque!”

“Non,non! Zank, you for your service mademoiselle!”

“Take care out there,” Archer bid.

“Thanks I will!”

So Alyse parted from Eutho, catching up with Jeroam who was walking alongside Shyk on the road just out of sight of the village.

“Oh! Hello Alyse, come to say farewell?” Jeroam said cheerily.

“Actually, no I've just finished saying my farewells,” she said boldly.

Realization struck Jeroam.

“You mean-”

Alyse cut him off, “If you'll have me, I would like to accompany you!”

Jeroam was deeply impressed by her, “By all means! It is I who am blessed by your offer!”

So they went off from Eutho together north.