Lunch with King Fiske was a relatively mundane affair considering that Arwen was currently sitting opposite the King of Helvetia, of who Cyfoeth have considered their enemy for almost three years. About midway through the ordeal of fake smiles and silky voices, her father arrived and joined them with a profound apology for his absence. The Helvetian was all smiles and thought nothing of it, and the two began an almost easy conversation between each other, allowing Arwen a much-needed break from socialising.
By the end of the meal, a friendly rapport had been established, which could’ve fooled Arwen into believing that King Fiske and her father were old friends. King Fiske then stood up, bowed and thanked the two for a lovely meal, and then asked if he could be escorted out of the castle where he would go over the treaty agreement before sending it to King Blayney. Later that evening, a very tired looking father entered a private lounge where his wife and daughter sat on expensive plush armchairs. Arwen was immediately on alert, for although the weight of wakefulness had begun to drag on the King’s mind, demanding him he sleep, it was the loosening of his shoulders and hopeful expression that filled her heart with hope. “So?” Amelia prodded. She was ecstatic when Arwen had told her of the possible treaty with Helvetia, and told her the Keep had what was coming to them after such horrid disregarding of Cyfoeth despite their years of support. “How did it go?”
King Blayney sat down and poured himself a glass of the wine the two women were partaking in before his arrival. “It’s done,” he shook his head in disbelief as he spoke. “The war is officially over.”
A silent gasp escaped Arwen’s lips as a weight she didn’t know existed was lifted from her soul. Her mother cried out and launched herself at the King, burying herself into her arms. “Yes! Yes! You did it! I’m so proud of you, dear.”
“Careful,” King Blayney half-chuckled as he lifted his wine glass, of which its contents were dangerously licking at the rim for their escape, “you’ll spill this all over us.”
“This is very good news,” Arwen smiled.
“Indeed,” her father returned the smile. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll make a speech to all who would gather to inform them that the fighting is over.”
“That’s so great,” Amelia murmured into her husband’s arm. “I’m so happy.”
“I raise my glass to celebrations,” King Blayney lifted his glass into the air, prompting Arwen to do the same. “To celebrations!”
Arwen happily responded. “To celebrations!”
Their laughter echoed lightly into the darkening night.
-cut-
“To celebrations!”
The crowd in the dusty looking tavern roared in jubilation as a sea of mugs were raised, cascading a river of beer and ale onto the wooden planked floor. Cai Huws sat on one of the tables with Gwyn sharing a cask of beer, for the two planned to get absolutely hammered tonight in the midst of such a celebratory air. Already, Cai’s head buzzed with good tidings and a silly grin was plastered to his face despite his best efforts to wipe it off. Opposite him, Gwyn looked equally as drunk and had an almost exact mirrored expression to Cai. The two of them had decided to keep hanging out together after returning from Alaru, and Cai found the polearm expert to be quite good company. Gwyn concurrently seemed to enjoy Cai’s company, though the knight found the man a little difficult to read sometimes. “It’s over,” Gwyn shook his head at no one in particular. “I can hardly believe it.”
“Me neither,” Cai smiled. He had feared he would find himself lost without war. It was where the heroes and powerful knights he so dearly idolised arose from, after all. But he had seen too many horrors to lament what could only be a good thing. “No more killings. No more watching friends and acquaintances die. No more mourning families. We’re finally at peace.”
“I wonder what our King told those bastard Helvetians to make them turn tail so easily,” Gwyn personally had no idea, for no matter how you sliced it, Cyfoeth was at an immense disadvantage to Helvetia. What did the vampire-hating country have to gain from friendly relations with their comparatively vampire-accepting country?
“Obviously something scary,” Cai mused, “or else we’d probably have them breathing down our necks right now.”
When the Helvetian King departed the Castle just yesterday, he did so surrounded not only by his immense retinue of soldiers and men, but also by the quiet and tense stares of civilians around the castle town’s bustling market streets. In what appeared to be a purely mocking gesture, King Fiske had smiled and waved at some of them as he passed by, sinking the hearts of the people and Cai himself alike, who readied himself for bad news. No matter how he angled it, King Fiske looked like a man who had just gotten what he wanted. So, when this very morning, King Blayney made an impressive speech declaring peace with Helvetia, Cai couldn’t have been more surprised. “Perhaps Helvetia was more stretched thin than we realised,” Gwyn continued his theory-crafting.
Cai shrugged. He had no idea personally. To him it seemed that the hostilities with Helvetia would never end, even after Cyfoeth turned its back on the Keep. He had figured King Fiske would’ve taken Cyfoeth’s support of their enemies too personally to overlook such an alliance so soon, but maybe there was something else involved. King Blayney hadn’t mentioned any terms, but was he required to? It was an unsettling thought, that their King would keep secrets from his people, but perhaps that was just the way of royalty.
From the swirly haze of his drunken mind, he noticed a short young woman with raven black hair and a pale, prominent face stride into the bar and hesitated as she looked around. Cai, lost in his own slow and dazed mind, cocked his head. What was Brynne doing here? He had never seen her wear a black blouse before. She’d always worn white, yellows, and pinks. Happy colours.
Brynne, who had finished her cursory glance around the tavern, turned to leave when her eyes locked with Cai’s. He watched her mouth part slightly in recognition before she walked over, ducking under the broad shoulders of drunk men too inebriated to register her presence beside them. Gwyn had noticed Cai’s staring and turned around to check out what was going on. The Sentinel tensed slightly when he laid eyes on their newcomer. “Arwen?” Gwyn exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Cai blinked. Of course it was Arwen… what was he thinking? He looked at the mug of beer nestled into the palms of his hands in a new light. Maybe it was time to stop.
The Princess wordlessly sat down beside Gwyn and frowned at Cai, who was silently observing her through glazed pupils. “You are staring.”
Cai blurted the first words that came into his head. “You’re unhappy.”
Arwen’s frown deepened into a scowl. “You do look… cross,” Gwyn concurred. “Why the long face?”
“Fancy a beer?” Cai slid his mug over to the royal newcomer. “I don’t want anymore.”
Arwen hesitated briefly, her eyes dancing with the uncertainty of a decision not yet made, before she clasped the mug and took a long swig. Cai was struck at the oddity of a Princess drinking beer at a dirty tavern, but neglected to comment. When she spoke, it was in an uncertain voice. “We’re off again… tomorrow.”
“Off?” Gwyn sounded almost comically offended. “So soon? Where?”
“Ffin,” Arwen took another long drink- far too much by Cai’s experienced eye- from the large mug and wiped the foam from her lips. Cai thought the Princess looked awfully drab and dour with her resting-bitch-face. She should smile more, he mused. The rare times it happened, her face always exuviated into a stunning display of innocent beauty. “The Helvetians are giving it back to us, and my job is to oversee its safe retrieval back into Cyfoeth’s arms. You will be protecting me, like last time.”
“Your father’s sending you into the border of Cyfoeth?” Gwyn remarked. “A little risky, don’t you think?”
Arwen didn’t reply, so Cai chimed in next. “What about Owen and the vampire?”
The Princess turned her stern eyes onto him. “I argued to have the vampire… what? Yes, Gwyn! I know he has a name!” she snapped venomously when Gwyn protested her refusal to acknowledge Eryk by name, “the… yes, I wanted Eryk not to come, since I thought it would aggravate the Helvetians, but father did not see it my way.”
“Your father can make some very odd decisions,” Cai blurted. He made a confused gesture with his hands when Arwen’s lip curled into a snarl. “What? I’m being honest.”
“You’re all drunk,” Arwen shook her head. “And, if I’m honest, I want to be as well. What’s it even like?”
Cai probably shouldn’t have, but gestured over a very harassed looking barmaid as she passed by and pointed towards Arwen’s mug. “Another one from the cask, please.”
“Sure,” the maid hesitated mid-way to retrieving the empty mug from Arwen. “Are… you the Princess?”
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“No idea what you’re talking about,” Arwen muttered in reply, though a quirk of a smile did play on her lips.
“Oh… apologies,” the maid offered a disengaging grin as she strode off with the mug.
“Where’s Eryk?” Arwen asked with raised brows as she glanced between Cai and Gwyn.
Cai had no idea, nor did Gwyn, who shrugged in response.
“Great,” the Princess sighed. “What about Owen?”
“I’ll find Owen,” Cai offered. “Don’t worry yourself about that.”
“I’ll have a look for Eryk,” Gwyn also volunteered. “You need us by tomorrow morning?”
The maid returned with a full mug and set it on the table, and Arwen wasted no time in rocking it back. Cai watched in fascination as one, two, three deep gulps caused the muscles in her neck to extend and relax before she placed the mug back down onto the table. “I think we’re leaving by noon,” she affirmed. “Gods, I hate this place. All these people are giving me a headache.”
By now, other tavern-goers had noticed the Princess and were quietly whispering to one another. Odd looks and searching gazes were shot their way. Arwen’s half-hearted attempt at a disguise by her use of plain and casual clothes had only been so effective, and soon, someone was going to gather the courage to approach. Cai guessed she didn’t quite want that outcome. “We will go for a walk,” he decided to shoot two birds with one stone, “let’s get out of here.”
Gwyn had noticed the stares, too, and easily went along. Arwen, however, raised her head in protest. “But I’m not done with the beer!”
“Trust me,” Cai slurred a little as he stood, the alcohol having affected his ability to multitask. “We have about half of a four-litre cask we’re leaving behind. I’m more deeply affected by this loss.”
“I’m not even drunk yet,” the Princess yet persisted still. “You guys are. I’m more deeply affected.”
Cai made a beckoning gesture with his hand, but he wasn’t sure he got it right since Arwen’s face merely creased into a bemused frown. “Don’t be a cry-baby. We all need a walk.”
Arwen’s eyes shot up to his in what he interpreted as alarm, but the brashness of the movement quickly gave way to a morose expression which eroded away at the frown lines marring her face. “Yes, let’s go,” she said demurely.
Cai’s alcohol laden mind was briefly pierced by a cold spike of clarity. Did he say something wrong? He tried to apologise. “I’m sorry if I said something offensive.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Arwen smiled thinly. “Let’s go.”
-cut-
The next morning, just before the sun’s apex in the sky, Arwen stood grimly in her red-and-gold uniform by the northern gates of the Kingdom which led into Laswelltog, a sea of plain grass that expended endlessly in her entire field of view beyond the gates. She had a large cylindrical backpack slung onto her shoulders, containing a spare change of clothes, an extra royal uniform, a couple of travel guides, and some breathable sleeping gear for the rough night to come. Arwen had learnt from her previous miseries and had come prepared this time. In her pocket sat the Light Gem, which she had taken only on father’s raving insistency, and an ankle strap housed the gifted dagger she hid underneath the fabric of her uniform trousers, just in case they ran into trouble.
She had even spent the morning mapping out the route they’d be taking to the village just to feel useful, gaining a rough estimate of their overall journey. Laswelltog was supposedly easy travelling, with relatively smooth terrain that led to Gerllaw village, a large settlement housing many merchants and families looking to escape the confines of Cyfoeth’s protective walls. Gerllaw would be their first stop, where their high-end inns should make for comfortable sleeping tonight. This would take them north to north-west of the Kingdom, meaning a course north to north-east would have to be taken in order to reach the dirt track leading up the otherwise steep cliff edges of Draig Maw. After their ascent, the famous Ceirios Blossoms would soothe sore eyes with a beauty raved about in books. It was, according to the travel guides Arwen had perused, one of the most magical beauties of nature one could encounter in Cyfoeth. Up there was the looming peak of Loel’s Wrath, which Arwen agreed with as a beautiful sightseeing destination, and Lake Swyno located in the Lliwio Plains, of which Arwen and her retinue was a mere half-day away from the travel lodgings when they had slept overnight.
The one night of rough sleeping would occur within the confines of the Ceirios Blossoms, but it would be the next day before they reached Ffin, meaning less overall misery for Arwen. It was just like this, she sighed. One day came the celebrations of the end of the war, and then came the unwelcome news of her next military assignment. Negotiations… Arwen felt it was one of her stronger suits, but haggling with Helvetian military smacked of idiocy to her, especially if whoever was in charge of Ffin got pissy about relinquishing Cyfoeth’s territory back to their rightful owner. But her father’s word was final, and that was that.
“Such is life,” Cai inadvertently completed Arwen’s thoughts as he strode up behind her. He looked like his cheery self, dressed in uniform with sword and scabbard hanging by hip. He also had a backpack on, like last time, though it appeared to bulge significantly less. “Sorry,” he smirked at Arwen’s expression, “your face looked like you were thinking thoughts that could be concluded with those words, so I decided to greet with them. What’s with the bag?”
“Comfort items, clothes mostly.” Arwen replied dryly. “Why? Do you think it looks bad on me?”
Cai rolled his eyes and ignored her question. “Women and their clothes. Man, speaking of women, let me tell you. The lady in charge of military finances got all hot and bothered about giving me the funding for this trip, apparently, they’re on a strict budget since cuts and all that stuff is going to be coming their way now that the military isn’t as needed.”
“Didn’t my father give you a hand-written notice to get the money?” Arwen asked in a half-interested tone.
“Right?” Cai dragged the word out. “And still she got all defensive and shit with me even after reading the King’s notice.”
Some people, Arwen shook her head. If monarchy wasn’t important to them, then how could they even effectively serve in the military?
Gwyn took his moment to appear at this point. Like Cai, the man was in uniform and carried a tall halberd with a wicked tip and an axe-like protrusion of silvery metal poking out from one end, while a thinner but curved blade stuck out from the other side. Under his left arm, a leathery bag swung aimlessly beneath his armpit filled extensively with long and thin sticks of wood sticking out from the bag’s opening hole, secured only by a tightly wrapped knot of rope. “You alright, everyone?”
“How’s it going?” Cai smile was friendly. “What’s with all the sticks?”
“Ceirios Blossoms are considered holy ground by the Church,” Arwen explained before Gwyn could open his mouth, eager to share her superior knowledge to the unknowing knight. “Even though it’s technically Cyfoethian soil, the fact that the Holy Citadel lies less than a few hours from the western edge of the blossoms means they often use it as a place for quiet prayer.”
Cai stared uncomprehendingly. “Okay, I knew that… but why do we need the sticks?”
“It’s for fires, which I’m hoping you can light, Cai, with your magic.” Gwyn stepped closer. “We’re not allowed to touch any of the blossom trees, and there’s no guarantee enough firewood would be lying around to justify taking the risk, so it’s easier to just bring enough sticks for our own.”
“The ponds to the east of the road are devoid of wood, too,” Arwen added helpfully. She was particularly looking forward to seeing the Liliau ponds, which were present underneath the luscious blossoms of Ceirios but also extended eastward towards Coed’s Forest. The artist’s depiction of its water lilies was stunning, and Arwen was eager to see them in real life.
Maybe it was a good thing she got to experience such wonders that the world had to offer on her trip to Alaru, for Arwen had since come to realise that her eyes hungered for more of Loel’s natural gifts.
“Seems you’ve done your research,” Cai remarked to the Princess in a wry voice.
Arwen reached behind her and tapped her bag. “I brought a book on the matter.”
“You seem… excited,” Gwyn observed warily, for he had expected a great deal of sulking from the Princess after what he thought was a sour experience of the outside world for her.
“I just like the sights,” Arwen explained. “And I feel a tad adventurous of late,” the lack of killing and maiming between two countries helped ease her worries over travelling, too. Once she had done her reading mere hours after waking up in a sulk this very same morning, she left feeling somewhat… happy. The castle walls had grown stifling of late as expectations which previously failed to bother her began to wear at her mind. It would hopefully be a nice break for her, to be out.
“Good day,” Eryk came up next and nodded politely. “I hope you are well.”
“We’re alright,” Gwyn shot a sly look at the vampire, who seemed to positively glow in a bulwark aura of cheeriness. “You look well. Win the lottery or something?”
Eryk laughed. “Oh, no, nothing like that. To be honest, I have been seeing someone of late,” he admitted with a blush. “Someone whose company I enjoy.”
“Female company?” Cai raised a brow. Eryk nodded in affirmation. “Well, who is it, then?”
“You all met her at the King’s Tailors. She was the girl who got me my uniform, Rhiannon.”
Gwyn slapped the vampire lightly on the back. “Well done, mate.”
Mild shock was in order for Arwen. She couldn’t have possibly seen that coming. “Well, you are going to have to make do without her for the next set of days,” she immediately applied a dampener on the vampire’s elated mood. “I hope you are not feeling clingy.”
Eryk’s smile remained light. “I simply have someone to look forward to seeing upon my return.”
“You seriously bringing that giant coat?” Cai tugged at the black overcoat the vampire always favoured atop his uniform. “It’s almost summer.”
“I would rather carry it than face any cold spells,” Eryk admitted. “I can always take it off if I get hot.”
Arwen remained silent as the boys chatted amongst each other, until she spied a very demure-looking Owen approaching. The boy looked a mess, for his medium length hair was a mop a top of his head and dark bags loomed underneath tired eyes. “Hello.”
“Owen,” Gwyn turned. “Glad to see y-… why the long face? It’s a time for celebration! We’re finally at peace after three years.”
“I don’t know anything else other than war,” Owen spoke in a miserable tone. He appeared deathly stressed and pale, and a defeated posture only served to accentuate his apparent dive into decay. “I’m afraid I’ll lose my place in the military.”
“Hey,” Gwyn hooked an arm around Owen’s shoulder. “You’re a good archer, and you’re one of the Princess’s retainers. I doubt you’ll be discharged so easily.”
Owen’s eyes met Arwen’s. “I think that is the only thing keeping me in work.”
“Were you not pleased to see your girlfriend again?” Cai cocked his head. “Troubles?”
“I told you, she doesn’t live in the Kingdom,” Owen reminded him. “I haven’t seen her in… a while.”
“Does she live in Ffin?” Arwen prodded curiously. “Because that is where we are going.”
Owen shook his head. “Not Ffin.”
“Alright, then, keep your secrets.” Cai joked good-naturedly. “We ready to go? We’re burning daylight.”
Owen slung a much larger set of sleeping bags than he carried to Alaru onto the floor, where it landed with a loud thud. “Before we go… this is too heavy for me,” he confessed. “Can someone carry it for now? I’ll take it off you later.”
Arwen glanced at the cylindrical pile. It looked heavy. Very, very heavy. There was no way someone of her stature would be able to even pick that up. “I’ll take it,” Eryk thankfully volunteered and easily picked up the heavy load, slinging it over his right shoulder.
“Thanks,” a muttered reply. “There’s five this time, so no sharing, but extra weight.”
“I’ll take it off of you when you get tired,” Gwyn offered, but Eryk waved him off.
“Our first stop will be Gerllaw for the night,” Arwen briefed up the two newcomers. “So, we won’t be heading straight north.”
Eryk nodded and Owen shrugged, which Arwen took for confirmation. “Alright, then, let’s go.”