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Winners of War Prologue Story: Echoing Past
Chapter 18: I Learnt To Say Goodbye

Chapter 18: I Learnt To Say Goodbye

The next day, after breakfast, the Princess of Cyfoeth and her retainers had packed their belongings and prepared to set off out onto Tristwch road once again. The long days of travelling ahead filled Arwen with dread and emptied of her will to leave, but her excitement to return home to mother and father far eclipsed the negative drain. Besides, as pleasant as Alaru was, it was still a frontier town prone to attacks from Helvetia, and the less time spent there the better.

“You’re done already?” the innkeeper seemed surprised at their departure. “This Dark Entity creature is dead, I presume?”

Cai shook his head. “No, but it’s otherwise disabled for now. The details surrounding it are… complex, but I assume the mayor or his aide will fill you in should you want an explanation.”

The innkeeper seemed to want to press for more details, but she decided to relent. “Alright… well, as long as it’s gone, I’m happy… I guess. Should any of you return, just come back to Teilo Inn and reunite with me. I’ll be happy to offer you discounts on any private staying at Alaru…” her tone turned sly, “especially, you, vampire.”

Eryk reacted as if slapped. “Me?”

“We’re very welcoming of vampires here, dear,” the innkeeper explained. “If the Kingdom isn’t to your liking, you’ll find refuge in Alaru.”

“Thank… you?”

“No worries, now off you go!” the innkeeper began ushering them out. “I need to clean your rooms for the next guests. Good luck out there!”

-cut-

The town square was a hive of activity when the slice of shadow exuded by the sundial reached its apex, signalling noon. Before Arwen and her retainers stood Mayor Hefin and his aide, who the Princess expected would look rough after the day they had yesterday. What was presented before her, however, came as a great surprise.

Hefin had undergone a transformation. Gone was the stained plait shirt and dirty dark pants, gone was the mopey stature and unkempt appearance. Instead, the mayor stood before them as a new man. Clean, light brown hair sat neatly atop Hefin’s head, complementing his blue-grey eyes and steely expression. His clothes were now a mirror to Wynn’s, with the black suit fitted atop a white undershirt that oozed dignity and respect. His eyes, which were still bloodshot, were now focused and alert, though the black-bags adorning his lower eyelids spoke to his lack of sleep the past night.

Wynn looked as professional as ever, though he appeared unsure of himself… almost skittish. He looked as though he hadn’t slept much, either. But all traces of fatigue were smoothed from his expression when he regarded Arwen’s retinue. “Good bearings, all. I see you are ready to depart back to the Kingdom?”

He gestured towards the bags held by the boys behind her, one of which contained those stupid clothes they had bought those few days ago. Arwen herself wasn’t carrying anything but her artifact and dagger, which was still neatly tucked between the hem of her waistband at the small of her back. Cai opted to speak as per usual. “I feel we have an adequate grasp of the situation and that there is no need to linger.”

Hefin took a step forward and regarded him with a tired expression, though Arwen saw a new determination in his eyes. “What are your recommendations to Alaru?”

Cai refocused his gaze onto the mayor and dolled out the recommendations they had all agreed upon last night. “We advise you keep a steady watch on the outer perimeter of Alaru, especially at night.”

“We already do so in fear of Helvetian invasions, right Wynn?” Hefin asked, and his aide confirmed with a nod.

“Should the Dark Entity return, I would experiment with leaving it be,” Cai decided to lay upon the most controversial one next. “As in, don’t fire at it or interact in any way.”

Hefin frowned. “Why?”

“From the information we’ve gathered, we surmise that it may be attacking Alaru solely out of fear for the pain you cause it,” Cai backed up his argument with examples of its behaviour that Arwen had prepared for them all last night. “The first incidence of attack maybe was coincidence, but your aggression towards it could have been responsible for its continued return.”

Wynn’s eyes widened, no doubt drawing from his own experience to make the same connection. “That… is an interesting option.”

“Can we do that?” Hefin sought out his aide’s advice.

Wynn appeared divided, however. “I am unsure… we could certainly try, but what if it breaks into Alaru? It may be that our arrows are what ends up driving it off, after all.”

“If it breaks through the wall,” Cai interjected, “you can send someone out to lure it away with a ranged weapon… bow and arrow, hand-axe, javelin, something like that.”

“Like what my father did?” Hefin’s voice took on a slight edge, peering directly at the Princess.

“Yes,” Arwen decided to speak up. “I think if you can get it to latch onto a single target that can lure it away, it will lose interest and the target can just sneak back to Alaru.”

“It is risky,” Wynn stated unhappily. “I doubt we could find a soldier courageous enough to face it out in the forest alone.”

“If it comes to that, I will be the one to lead it out,” Hefin declared. Wynn immediately began to argue, but the mayor stopped him with a significant look. “Unlike my father, I’ll actually survive these forays, Wynn. Rest your mind.”

“Finally,” Cai renewed his speech when he thought their small argument was over. “We strongly recommend you put in a formal report to the Church. We can also do this upon our return to Cyfoeth, if you like, where the report will be backed up by the King. Either way, we suspect the weapon is either stolen or lost property of theirs, or a genuine artifact of Lye. Doubtlessly, the Church will be eager to investigate should you inform them of our theory surrounding its weapon.”

“That sword is from the Church?” Hefin looked as though he could scarcely believe his ears.

“I never thought the Church would waste their time on this matter.” Wynn muttered to himself.

“They usually wouldn’t,” Arwen confessed her opinion on the topic, “but given the creature’s possible immortality and its weapon, I garner it would at least raise some eyebrows.”

Hefin decided to defer to his aide. “What do you think, Wynn?”

“I know not of a way to contact the Church,” the aide admitted cautiously. “But if her Teyrn would do us the grace of submitting a report herself, then I would think it inadvisable not to at least see if they can offer aid.”

“I would take responsibility for informing the Church,” Arwen offered helpfully, but she was unsure if her father would be fully cooperative…

Hefin took some time to consider. “Very well, then it shall be done. All of what you have said will be taken into our consideration, but we leave the report in your hands.”

Cai nodded. “Then I believe we’re finished.”

Arwen offered a polite smile to the mayor, feeling an almost sense of kinship after their shared trauma yesterday. “I’m glad to see you looking better, Hefin.”

Wynn nodded his agreement besides the mayor. Hefin, however, let off a deep sigh. “I’m trying, for the sake of my coward father. No more alcohol, no more running away from my responsibilities… after all, what would I be if I were to ensure his sacrifice is left in vain? I’ll show my father what it’s like to stand and face danger, instead of fleeing from it.”

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Gwyn piped up. “Will you tell your people the truth behind his death?”

Hefin exchanged a significant look with Wynn, who spoke up in his stead. “We think that would undermine our positions. As much as it pains me and the mayor, we’ll uphold the secrecy of his death as we strive to earn back the respect we need to properly guide Alaru in this dire time. Myrddin will always be a coward to them, but at least Hefin and I know the truth now.”

Arwen nodded sagely, ambiguous of their decision to keep the citizens in the dark over their previous mayor’s death. To intentionally allow the continued sullying of the reputation of a dead man rubbed her the wrong way in addition, but she supposed Myrddin had made his bed and had resigned himself to lie in it during that fateful night. It was only fair for Wynn and Hefin to allow him to rest.

“Well, then, if that’s all, I need to go home and practise for my speech later today,” Hefin reached out and, to her surprise, clasped Arwen’s hand first before anyone else’s. “Thank you.”

Hefin moved on to shaking hands with the boys besides her. Wynn made his approach and embraced the Princess in a warm hug. “I, also, appreciate your aide.” He pulled back. “I do confess I was highly dubious of your ability to do anything useful at first, but I certainly paid the price for assuming your competency was as youthful as your age.”

Wynn moved onto saying his farewells to her retainers before she could blurt out an awkward response, but his honesty left her confidence shaken once more. Did they really provide Alaru with the assistance they needed? Or was Wynn merely hiding his true feelings, just as he had confessed to a moment ago? Arwen suspected it was the latter. She felt embarrassed by her lack of achievements here. Perhaps Cai had been right yesterday… when he said she didn’t do enough.

-cut-

“Right,” Cai slung his bag deeper onto his shoulder as the group stood besides the gate leading to Tristwch Road. “Let’s head home.”

“About time,” Owen muttered boyishly, but his abrasive manner was nothing of note to anyone, for they had grown used to his hot-and-cold mannerisms.

Arwen frowned, but said nothing. Her legs already ached in sheer anticipation of their upcoming abuse. She hoped her memory of those horrid sleeping bags was exaggerated, for the inn’s beds had been mercifully soft and fluffy, protecting her from her harsh nightmares.

The arrangements were roughly the same, with the exception of Eryk now holding the sleeping bags for Owen, who now held a leathery sack filled with travel supplies. Arwen herself held nothing, but she was the Princess of her country and therefore felt little guilt in letting her retainers do the heavy lifting for her.

For the first day, their goal was to reach Continent Garden, and Arwen was initially relieved when Coed’s Forest broke into its lush green pastures, with its stunning trees and vibrant sunflowers guarding the arch-shaped bushes. The refreshing cool air deposited dewdrops onto her skin, washing away the mugginess of the forest which seemed to trap heat beneath its blanket of leaves. But as they stopped for the night and elected to forgo a fire, Arwen was reminded of why she had so hated the night spent in the beautiful terrain.

Sure enough, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the air grew more and more hostile as it abandoned its happy breeze for a still and humid sulk. Before retiring early, hoping in vain to beat the increasingly humid air to the punch, Arwen had changed into her Alaru bought dress-shirt hybrid and pants. She had also ‘manned up’, as Cai put it in his easy-going tone of voice, and braved the bugs to try and stop herself sweating out during the night. This turned out to be a fantastic idea, for although she had awoken the entire group in the dead of night with her shrieks after a spider crawled onto her leg, the night was much more bearable and was thankfully free of dreams. She was also pleasantly surprised that her clothes were only marginally sweat-soaked, and she happily exchanged them for her uniform behind one of the giant twisting Fugg trees.

After a breakfast of Alaru’s finest dried meat, of which Arwen could tell no difference to normal rations, the next goal was to cross into Lliwio Plains and reach the travel shelter for another overnight stay. This worked wonderfully, and Arwen enjoyed a comfortable night, her physical woes kept at bay by the knowledge that their journey back was already half-way over.

The final two days were equally uneventful, though sleeping by the Veins of Wedi proved as uncomfortable as Arwen remembered, and Cyfoeth’s hot climate was growing warmer with each passing day of spring as it prepared to coalesce into full-blown summer. Unlike the boring Coed’s Forest, the Wrath of Loel proved reinvigorating eye-candy for the last stretch of the journey. As they passed by the farmland brimming with the grainy smell of matured crops, many citizens tended the fields as they harvested what was likely to be the last of spring’s bounty. One of the young boys working there had apparently recognised the Princess and offered her an orange, but Cai insisted he first peel the fruit, inspect it, and then take a bite out of one of its juicy segments before allowing Arwen to eat it. She had shot him a nasty look for that, but the young boy appeared unoffended and Cai had simply shrugged her off. “It always pays to be cautious,” he imparted his unasked wisdom upon her annoyed ears. “You never know.”

“You never know when a fourteen-year-old boy wants to commit regicide.” Arwen had sarcastically retorted, but she let matters lie in what she proudly guessed was a maturation of her tolerance for annoying people.

Upon their return to the Castle, Arwen’s relief at the familiar sights and faces was so great that she felt like weeping. It was a sublime feeling, tainted only by the fact that she knew she was likely timetabled to be sent on another exhausting journey to some other part of Cyfoeth.

Never had the tall turrets intersecting the castle wall appeared so welcoming to Arwen, who had once viewed them as an eyesore that obstructed the sun in the mornings and at sunset. In comparison to Alaru’s twelve-ish feet high perimeter, Cyfoeth boasted far taller defences reaching as high as if two houses had been stacked upon one another, shielding the residents of the castle town from harm. The group had initially wanted to visit the King, but Arwen refused. She was far too tired and it was growing dark. She knew her father would likely have other commitments at the time, meaning they would certainly have to wait before the King could spare them some of his time. “Meet me in the morning,” she told them instead. “I bid you farewell.”

She remorselessly left the boys, then, for she felt that while they were friendly, they weren’t friends. As she climbed the wide stone-slabbed stairs towards the castle interior, however, she shot a final look over her shoulder. Cai, Owen, and Gwyn had already left and had been lost in the dying activity of the peasant crowd, but Eryk stood motionless where she had bid her farewell.

Arwen couldn’t tell his emotions from so far, but he seemed to be staring up at the castle walls thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, he begun to walk away.

-cut-

“Arwen, my lovely daughter!” Amelia Blayney, the Queen of Cyfoeth and Arwen’s mother, embraced the Princess in a tight hug. “I have waited so long to see you.”

Arwen typically was not fond of physical affection, she had been that way even with Bran, but she never truly minded with her mother and allowed herself to be squeezed mercilessly by her mother’s thin arms. Admittedly, the Princess had sorely missed her mother’s calm smile quite a bit. “It’s good to see you, mum.”

“How was it?” Amelia’s soft-blue eyes sparkled. “Did you find out what that terrible business in Alaru was all about?”

“I…” Arwen hesitated. “I did… kind of.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it!” Queen Blayney gushed with excitement. “Dinner will be served in about an hour. You’re lucky,” she arched a sly brow, “that your father is working late.”

Arwen cocked her head. “Is he?”

“Yes, dear,” Amelia deadpanned. “The King of Helvetia is due a visit soon, and processions are being made to greet him. It’s all very chaotic and… bleh!”

“I hope he’s alright,” Arwen couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at her mother’s casual disdain for politics. She already felt at home now… it was a nice feeling.

“He is, but…” Amelia hesitated and glanced around the comforting interior of the empty dining hall Arwen had run into her mother in when searching for her. In an act that always baffled Arwen, Queen Amelia sometimes insisted on setting the table herself, instead of letting one of the servants do his or her job. “The stress is taking a toll on him. I’ll be glad myself when this whole ordeal with Helvetia is over with.”

Arwen nodded her agreement. “So,” her mother continued. “Did you get along well with that vampire? What was his name again?”

“Eryk,” Arwen supplied the name to her mother, who nodded in affirmation. “And… I sort of didn’t interact with him too much.”

Amelia leaned into her daughter conspiratorially. “Good. Your father has placed quite a bit of trust in that young… man. I recently heard he was born Helvetian and my! Did you father get an earful for that. I could scarcely believe he had trusted one of them with you after I first saw him in that audience chamber. I hope he wasn’t too disagreeable with you.”

Arwen swung her head in a so-so gesture. “He is from Helvetia, I found that out myself not too long ago. But, Eryk is… really polite.”

Amelia sensed her daughter was growing awkward at the gossiping over the vampire, so she dropped the topic. “Well, anyways. I’ll finish up setting the table. I assume you’ll want a shower as soon as possible.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Arwen smiled wryly.

“Like a putrid swamp.” Amelia held nothing back, though she did so with a teasing smile.

Arwen then bid her mother a temporary goodbye and went to her shower. After having to endure cold baths at Teilo Inn, and even colder washes in whatever fresh water pools they stumbled across on the way back, the luxury of a shower was something the Princess had sorely missed. As she peeled off her grimy uniform and stepped into the cascading cold water, Arwen grew surprised at just how much dirt and filth washed off of her body and into the drainage system. It seemed almost never-ending, but she waited until the water drained as crystal clear as when it was released from the shower hose above before stepping out and drying herself off.

For dinner, she donned a plain black tunic and a casual grey skirt, marvelling at how smooth the silky fabric felt against her skin. She had waited inside her bedroom, relaxing on her bed, when a maid knocked on her door. “Come!” Arwen yelled.

The door swung open and a furtive head peaked in. “Queen Blayney wishes to inform you that dinner is ready, your Teyrn.”

Arwen acknowledged the maid with a nod and waited for her to leave before she stood up and brushed herself off. She was starving, and looked forward to the prospect of good food for the first time in several days.