Mira tucked her amulet into her chest bindings and prepared for her next task. She quickly tucked her meager leather armor in a nearby bag and threw it over her shoulder. Her clothes, disheveled from the transformation, worked to her advantage. As she heard footsteps quickly approaching. She summoned a knife in hand and slashed it across her chest.
Then, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell onto her rear in a puddle in the alley. A group of guards came running to her aid as forced tears rolled down her face. She used her hands to cover the open wound on her chest as they neared her.
“Please help,” She whimpered, “I’ve been attacked. Some horrible man in a mas—”
“Which way did he go?” One of them looked around.
Mira pointed further down the alley and sniffled.
“Lafayette, get a report and see if the girl needs medical attention. Everyone else, with me!” A dwarf called out.
A half elf cautiously walked up to Mira and knelt beside her. He squinted his eyes as if he couldn’t remember the words he wanted to say.
“I ask you move your hands, so I view the wound,” He asked in broken dwarves with his heavy elven accent, “Is okay?”
Mira moved one of her hands to his outstretched one and spoke back to him in elven, “Is this easier for you?”
He blinked in surprise, but flawlessly continued, “If you don’t feel comfortable showing me, I can take you to a doctor, so your modesty is preserved. If it’s not too deep, I have a first aid kit I can use to help here.”
She moved her hands and felt the cut on her chest already partially healing. The cut on her blouse showed a large portion of her breast, as she intended. He blushed as he moved the fabric to examine the wound below it. He tried to make small talk as he examined the wound.
“My name is Jonen. I’m with the Travel Knights,” He cleared his throat, “We’ve come to help protect the region from that thing that attacked you.”
Jonen was a tall, muscular soldier that held himself proudly, if a little shy. His thick, Vanorian accent bled into his words. When he held a hand to lift her to her feet, the insignia of the Travel Knights over his sternum was at her eye level. His waves of golden hair opened across the sharp, elven features of his face. His deep, sapphire eyes stared into Mira’s with no inclination of harm, pity, fear, or hate –only worry.
It was the first time she ever saw eyes that compassionate. She felt safe around him and immediately wondered what magic this man used to ease her barriers towards others like that. She detected no ill intent in him –other than the scent of ale on his breath. His concern was genuine. He did want to help. She blinked away the blurriness in her vision.
He traced a finger along the cut across her collarbone until it met a black root snaking from her branding mark.
“Oh, my apologies!” He pulled his hand away, “I am not accustomed to working with thralls. Vanora doesn’t allow them. You’re wound should heal nicely. You’re lucky to be alive. I hate to think what could’ve happened if we weren’t so close.”
Mira stared deeply into his eyes to try and figure out what spell he was using. He was a mage with little power, but she never encountered that spell before. It frustrated her that she couldn’t identify it. Her constant, blank stared at him made him more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit.
Jonen looked into the honey-colored eyes of an adorable damsel in distress. He noted he needed to be on his best behavior, as many thralls were fiercely protected in Zrud. That, and he had been drinking on his night off and his commander was already upset about having to find him during an emergency.
“Where can we find your… master?” The words felt odd from his mouth.
“The winery towards the edge of town,” She felt herself blush and looked away, “He sent me on an errand, and I must find him soon.”
“Well, I was at a tavern when we heard the horn. To be honest, I’m a few drinks deep and glad I don’t have to chase that man down,” Jonen laughed nervously as his hand ran through his hair, “I could use a walk to sober up anyway. I’ll escort you on any more errands you need to run then to the winery. That thing could come back for you. I’d feel responsible if anything happened between now and your safe return to your master’s company.”
Her brow twitched as she tried to understand what he wanted.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe,” He patted at the sword haphazardly tied at his waist, “I’ll protect you now.”
“I appreciate your concern, but—”
“It would be my pleasure,” He grinned to ease the awkward tension, “It’s not every night I get to walk a beautiful woman around town.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you, Jonen,” Mira tried to think of a way she could have the man walk with her without upsetting her master, “I will feel safer and worry less about losing my way if you come with me.”
“I may not be wearing my armor, but I promise I am quite the knight,” He winked.
Mira snorted when she tried to cover her laugh. Jonen joined in her laughter and extended his arm for her. She placed a hand on the crook of his arm, and they walked down the street together in a cautiously optimistic mood. She never encountered anyone like him before and was curious. Many of the people she met would never speak to a thrall, yet this handsome young man offered to escort her back to her master under the rouse of being concerned for her safety.
Jonen didn’t understand how all his worries over the young woman seemed to vanish, but he already knew his night would be better. He handed Mira his jack to zip above the cut of her shirt and walked with her down the cobbled streets of Berkshire. In the previous moments, he tried to convince the barmaid to let him spend the night at the tavern to get a decent night’s sleep away from the defending snores of his dwarven bunkmates.
“I don’t know much about enthrallments,” He spoke after a half block of silence, “But is he kind to you?”
“I am unable to speak directly of him,” Mira bit her lower lip in thought, “But… I would not call him kind.”
“That’s unfortunate,” He placed a hand over hers and lightly squeezed, “Hopefully your contract ends soon. When did you sign it?”
“I did not,” She shook her head, “One of my parents did. I have never met them to know the terms. My master states he took me as a servant to repay my apprenticeship.”
“Apprenticeship?” He raised an eyebrow, “What business is he in to need a thrall as an heiress?”
Mira just shook her head and did not respond further. She did not know if it was against the rules to speak of such things and did not want to test it in the company of a stranger. Jonen took the hint and decided to try another subject.
“You haven’t told me your name,” He teased, “Are you allowed to share that with me?”
“I go by Mira,” She smirked, “I guess you are allowed to know that.”
He enjoyed her flirtatious smirk. She was short, even for a human. Her blousy black shirt cinched tightly against her from a loosely tied corset that complimented her narrow frame. The black cloak thrown over her shoulders didn’t hide her body from view. The buzz from his night’s earlier bar crawl had his mind crawling with more interesting thoughts than he was allowed to act upon in his Travel Knight’s tunic.
“Well, Mira,” He grinned, “Are you in town long? I’m stationed here a few more months and you’re one of the only friendly people I’ve met.”
“Oh? Where all do you travel?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I was in Vanora when I first joined the knights,” He scratched the back of his head, “I trained there. Then joined some boring patrols in Saceida for a while.”
Mira watched as he nervously played with the longer hairs on top of his head. He found a knot and tugged at it with his fingers. She mimicked the motion in her own hair and felt silly. Jonen watched her curiously as she copied his anxious mannerisms.
“Well, if you’re ever back in town. I’d be happy to take you out to a meal,” He blinked before adding, “To learn more about the area, of course!”
Mira’s head fell back in cheerful laughter as she playfully swatted at his chest. She had seen and read about interactions like this and thought it was the appropriate response. He laughed along with her as an embarrassing blush spread across his face. The two chatted casually about the passing shops and eateries until they approached the edge of town.
A blue skinned elf stepped from a doorway with a wine glass. His narrow features weren’t surprising to Jonen, as much as the man being a full-blooded elf in Zrud. Isaan pulled the sleeves of his traveling robe back and cracked his knuckles as the two approached him.
“Good evening, sir. I –”
The echo of a blue hand smacking the woman’s face gave Jonen pause. Mira’s unflinching look terrified Jonen’s imagination: How often did that happen? She didn’t even look phased.
“You’re late!” Isaan growled at her, “I had to leave and waste my time looking for you. Then, I see you walking up to me with some… halfling!”
Jonen’s shock crumbled at the slur. He stepped forward to speak, but Mira placed a hand in front of him.
Mira bowed apologetically, “My apologies, Master. As I have not been in any similar situations before, I deferred to Zrud customs. I was attacked and the knight here insisted I be escorted for my own safety.”
“I do not care about what some half-breed wants,” Isaan grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her closer, “I gave you clear instructions. You did not follow them. You’re late and clearly enjoying yourself. Frolicking around with your shirt torn open and wearing some boy’s jacket.”
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Mira unbuttoned the oversized jacket to hand back to Jonen with a muttered apology to the elf. He felt a rage boiling deep inside of him as he watched their interaction. Though they spoke the dwarven language with a nearly incomprehensible accent, he got a clear picture of what was happening.
“Thank you for letting me borrow this,” She nodded apologetically, “I do hope your future travels are well.”
Jonen grabbed a fistful of jacket before narrowing his eyes at Isaan, “Sir, there is no reason to openly assault her or to throw slurs at me. I understand you’re concerned with her perceived behavior, but she was attacked. There’s a dangerous man fleeing into the streets. Goddess above, she has a wound on her chest!”
Jonen pointed at the cut on her shirt as Isaan sniffed the air. The elf scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“A drunken half-breed stands up for you? Amusing,” Isaan let go of her hair, “What I do with my thrall is my business, foreigner. Here, I can slay her here with no punishment, should I wish.”
Jonen’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. Mira stepped between the men and placed a hand on his chest. He looked down at her and saw small black lines reaching around the base of her neck. She shook her head once.
“If you attempt to strike my master, I will be ordered to kill you,” She whispered, “Please, do not concern yourself.”
Jonen sighed and removed his hand from the hilt. He did not want to force the woman to fight him because of her master’s actions. She didn’t even have a weapon on her. He hated how thralls were treated in Zrud. She was no better than a pet in the law’s eyes. Not once did he ever see a thrall treated so harshly before that night.
“Thank you for ensuring my safety,” She smiled softly at knight, “Safe travels, Jonen.”
“And to you,” He nodded politely towards her before he glared at Isaan, “Goddess light your path.”
“Get back to your stupor and bother someone else,” Isaan huffed back at him.
Mira blushed meekly and he watched her walk away with the vile man. Jonen unclenched his tightened fist and walked back towards his fellow knights. He had already been recruited into the citywide search for the attacker.
The wraith was gone and the last person to see it was the woman taken away by her master. He let the guilt sweat out of him as they hunted for the monster. After marching through the streets, the pursuit of the duchy’s attacker concluded with no results. Jonen fell into line and rubbed at his sleepy eyes as his squadron marched back to the duchy. Soot and crumbling stone covered the ground where a proud estate once stood. Guards pulled bodies out of the wreckage and any available healer checked for signs of life.
His body ached from moving large rubble to sort through whatever damage happened to the duchy. The entire encounter sobered him up far more than he cared for. All the written reports on the carnage caused by the so-called wraith did not prepare him for the piles of dead. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have believed it.
The most intriguing fact was the distinct lack of gore from the scene. The stench of rusty iron that usually accompanied this amount of death was eerily absent. In the few battles Jonen had participated in, that smell was always the first thing he noticed.
“Lafayette!” A blonde, older human man called out towards him.
“On my way, Commander!” Jonen jogged towards the voice.
He stood at attention as his commanding officer and another man set down a large chunk of wood. The man dusted his hands off before turning to the half-elf.
“So far, we found one survivor. Barely,” Commander Smite coughed into his hand, “An old elven lady that barely speaks dwarven. Do you mind getting information from her? Anything would be useful.”
“Not a problem, Sir,” Jonen nodded.
Smite pointed to the makeshift tent nearby. Jonen swiftly jogged to see a healer tending to catastrophically aged elf. The old woman quivered under a blanket. Jonen grabbed a nearby cup and filled it with cold water to bring to the woman. She rubbed the spot from her face and reached towards him.
“Greetings, Elder,” He bowed his head lightly and handed her the cup, “I’m Jonen Lafayette de Sfagroth.”
“De Sfagroth?” The woman adjusted her broken glasses to get a better look at him, “I have friends there. Did you ever meet Lyfiam Swantic? The poor soul.”
“Yes, Lyfiam taught me how to swing a sword,” Jonen chuckled, “I’m sure he would appreciate knowing a dear friend survived this night. May I ask your name, Elder?”
“Ytevic,” She nervously took a gulp of water, “If Lyfiam makes his way to visit his family’s graves, please tell him Ytevic de Gualenee would love a visit. It’s been nearly fifty years.”
“I will send word to people there,” He looked at her with concern before gently placing his hands over hers, “Now, Elder Ytevic. I know it will be difficult to speak of… but I need you to tell me what you saw.”
The woman scratched at her burnt, white hair before looking at him with fearful eyes, “I don’t want to relive it, child.”
“I am not here to judge, Elder,” Jonen nodded, “And our healer friend can pull you from the memory should you need it. I just need to know what happened. We do not have many witnesses.”
The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
“Dancing. Beautiful music,” She stared into the far distance, “Very loud. Short dwarves everywhere. Ormule –my husband— hands me another glass of wine and thanks me for traveling here. His warm eyes draw me in.”
“He sounds lovely,” The healer commented.
“Man stands to introduce the duke. The band plays some horrid upbeat song, and everyone claps. Ormule pulls me in closely and whispers about…” She paused before continuing, “Duke has a grand speech about bolstering troops in eastern Zrud. Something called the wraith is killing people. A flash of flame catches my eye, and another elf walks towards the door.”
Tears started falling from her eyes as she continued the memory.
“A loud thud catches my attention. I turn to see… see the thing that fell from the sky. Tall. So tall. So… disgusting. Floors turn dark,” Ytevic pointed to nothing in particular, “The darkness spread from the vile thing. Ormule tried to get me to the door. It calls out to the duke. It wants his life. It would spare us, it said.”
Horror washed over her face. The healer placed hands on either of her shoulders as the woman continued.
“The duke scoffed at it. It was not pleased. The floor froze. I couldn’t get away. Ormule pushed me towards the door,” She bit her lower lip, “The thing pulled a spear out of the darkness. Then—”
Jonen grabbed the screaming woman as she started to fall, “Elder, you’re safe now. Come back.”
She blinked away the memory but tears flowed from her eyes, “Ormule… He wanted me to experience one of these balls before my transition into the next cycle. My husband… is he…?”
“He sounds like a generous man,” Jonen squeezed her hands, “We have not found many people. He may be alive.”
“He’s the only reason I am,” She pulled a handkerchief from her small bag and dabbed at her eyes.
“I’m sure he would not leave you after all of that,” He shook his head, “One last question, Elder. That elf you saw, can you describe him?”
“He had deep blue skin and long hair,” Ytevic looked down at her lap, “I didn’t see his face or remember much about him. It’s just not often we see another one of us here.”
“Thank you, Elder,” Jonen wrapped his arms around her frail frame, “When we find your husband, we will reunite you. Goddess forbid otherwise, and I will personally plan your travels home myself.”
She looked to the healer with a hollow expression, “Can you place the sleep spell now?”
He held her as the healer cast the spell to ease her into slumber. He laid her down gently before he went to his commanding officer. Smite busied himself with handing out cups of water to the rest of his sweaty, exhausted squadron. Jonen explained the memory to Smite.
“A trade? Preposterous,” Smite huffed, “The old woman must have heard wrong or hit her head when she fell.”
Jonen shook his head, “Not likely. The healer would have mentioned otherwise.”
“Any other useful information?” He rolled his eyes.
“She mentioned a blue elf exited right before the wraith fell,” He tapped a finger against his chin, “I believe I saw him tonight when I was escorting…”
His voice trailed off as he realized he didn’t remember her name. The more he thought about her, the less he remembered: her face, her name, hair, or anything that could identify her. He just remembered a human woman enthralled to a blue elf. Any time he tried to focus on her, his memory blurred.
“The girl, earlier,” Jonen looked to his squad mates, “The one we stopped to help. Do you remember anything about her?”
“Drink too much, did ya?” One of them laughed, “Happens to the best of us.”
“No, not –never mind. I spoke with her. Her master was a blue elf. I doubt there are very many blue elves in Zrud. Let alone in this town, tonight,” He looked to Smite, “It may be something to look into.”
“You’re probably right, but we have more important things to do,” He motioned to the rubble, “People could be alive under here.”
“Commander… what if this wasn’t the first time that thing worked with an elf?”
“Listen, Lafayette” Smite wiped the sweat from his brow, “I doubt this girl had anything to do with what happened here. And it’s a large city. I don’t personally check every person that comes in. We have a lot of work to do here tonight. If you want to play detective, do it on your downtime.”
“Yes, Commander Smite,” Jonen’s head fell, “Perhaps, after shift change?”
“What you do in your off hours doesn’t affect me,” He shrugged, “You just aren’t allowed to skip out of work on a hunch from a woman. Let alone some elf’s thrall.”
Jonen spent the next few hours trying to imagine the young woman’s face -or anything about her. He could hear her charming laughter. He remembered a flirtatious smirk, and nothing else. Yet, the elf’s face was burned into his mind like a terrible memory. He struggled to understand what happened to his memory. Was it her? The elf? Some spell he didn’t know? The lack of sleep? Maybe he was too drunk to remember her face but sobered up at the vile treatment of her.
His replacement couldn’t come soon enough. After what should have been his night off, he trudged through the waking streets of a shaken city. From his understanding, most of the upper-class died in the mansion or in the tents outside of it. Heirs for businesses and fortunes had to be found before the mourning city could be revived and returned to its new normal. Whispers of who the new duke could possibly be travelled through the city faster than Jonen’s own two feet.
The prison, luckily, was not part of the duchy. Most major cities held their prisoners on the outskirts of town. In Berkshire’s case, the jailhouse ran parallel to the city’s port. Jonen understood why. If a prisoner escaped, they would seek employment or sneak aboard a ship. Then, they’d be someone else’s problem.
As he walked into the jailhouse, the smell of rancid urine assaulted his nose. An older dwarf braided his beard with disinterest as Jonen approached his desk.
“Can I help you?” He didn’t look up from his beard.
“I need to search the wanted posters. How do you have them organized?” Jonen sat at the chair opposite of him.
The dwarf grunted and pointed to a large box across the room, “Are you people busy trying to catch a ghost? Or are you looking for extra drinking money?”
“Does it matter?” Jonen rolled his eyes.
“Fair enough,” The dwarf grunted and went to bring the box to his desk.
The jailor dropped the large box with a loud thud against the desk before returning to his chair. He threw his feet on the desk and continued playing with his beard.
Jonen cautiously opened the box and began sifting through the aged papers. Unsurprisingly, it was not organized. He carefully examined each paper before placing it gently on the desk next to the box. Some posters dated back centuries. Likely, the ones wanted were already dead or long gone from the region.
After about thirty notices, Jonen wondered if this effort was worth it. His stomach growled from hunger and he started to feel his hangover. The dwarf across from him snored as if he was garbling rocks in his sleep. He shook his head at the thought of stopping. If he could save the girl, it would be worth it. He became a knight to save as many people as he could, after all. After emptying a third of the large box, Jonen found a velvety red envelope stamped with golden wax.
In Zrud, this meant it was a decree from the royal family. His hand shook slightly as he cut behind the wax and lifted the seal of the envelope. He pulled out the aged paper and unfolded it slowly. A sketch of an average looking elven man with light hair and thin glasses took up most of the paper. Information about the subject was under the detailed sketch.
“Wanted: Isaan Naybellos
Accused of: Breaching the Unclaimed Isle Accord, Returning from the Unclaimed Isle with unapproved cargo, Conducting illegal experiments on isle creatures, Kidnapping, Mass murder, and attempted murder of a prophetess.
Notable features: Blue skin, Large scar on left rib, red eyes
Warning: Advanced elementalist believed to have a personal bodyguard of equal or greater talents.”
His hands trembled as he examined the sketch. Though the glasses were different from what he recognized, it was the elf he met the night before. The bounty assigned to his capture was a number Jonen had never seen written with any seriousness. The young woman was enthralled to a sworn enemy of Zrud’s crowned family.
“Do I need to pay for a copy?” Jonen looked to the man.
“Is that the man you’re looking for?” The dwarf snorted, “Good luck. Pay a gold and I’ll write the name down to order another copy.”
Jonen pulled the small coin from his bag and placed it on the table. He tucked the wanted poster into his pocket and took a deep breath. He ran back towards the crumbled estate to alert the commanding officer on duty of his discovery. His hunch was right and if he could save her, he could save many more people.
A criminal wanted by the crown was in the city on the night the duchy was destroyed. Isaan Naybellos had to have something to do with the attack on the duchy. His appearance couldn’t be a coincidence.