Peace was supposed to be an end to all fighting, and I had truly believed that I would see prosperity between Helvetia and my own country. But that was all just another faultless dream in the end, which unravelled in the face of harsh reality.

I did not know the horrors that awaited me, even after the first time they… they came for me. But while I was weak and unused to the ways of the world back then… I am much stronger now.

I bet… you have seen your fair share of woes, intruder. Broken pieces are easily recognisable, and it takes one to know one, after all…

-

The plains of Laswelltog were a tame environment rife with playing children and hiking adults that were sighted in abundance at first but grew rarer and rarer as the party gained distance from the Kingdom. The soft soil beneath Arwen’s feet made for gentle walking while its remarkably flat terrain helped to keep her still slightly sore legs happy. She particularly enjoyed running her hands through the short blades of grass, an action she did all the time as a child visiting the Laswelltog plains with her father and, occasionally, Bran. The dry blades rubbed raw against her fingertips, creating a rubbery sensation that wasn’t inherently pleasing but that the Princess felt was so. Her occasional bending of the knees to run a hand up a particularly large blade of grass caused a few odd looks to be thrown her way. Cai had even mimicked her after a few minutes, frowning when nothing of note happened.

It soon became evident, however, that Arwen’s bag would become an issue. After a mere hour, her shoulders already burned bright with the exhausting pain of supporting such weight, and she had to stop multiple times to drop it onto the floor so the fire in her body would quell. After a couple more hours of this, Eryk eventually stepped in and picked up the bag with his free arm. “I’ve got it from here.”

A slight shame burned in Arwen’s cheeks, for she was faltering with such light weight, yet the vampire was not only effortlessly carrying a bag Arwen could only dream of lifting herself, but had also taken the burden of her own onto his spare shoulder. “You want to carry mine?” Cai had joked in a slightly surprised tone, for not even he thought he could shoulder all that weight without complaint for as long as the vampire had.

They had come across a herd of deer a mere half an hour away from Gerllaw later that day, as the sun was well on its way through its slow descent into the horizon. These were the deer that Arwen’s father had often hunted back when she was younger and his health was haler. They had no natural predators in Laswelltog and were quick to explode in numbers if left unchecked, so King Blayney had always selected them for sport since they were quite moral to kill. Apparently, Owen thought so, too, for he immediately knelt down onto one knee and signalled the others to stop.

With his recurve bow in hand and an arrow ready to be nocked, the archer lined up a shot. “You think I should take it? It’s a clean shot for me.”

“I know a merchant in Gerllaw who will happily take a deer off of us,” Gwyn seemed undecided. “But how will we take it the last leg of the journey without a carriage?”

“It’s too much bother for what it’s worth,” Cai butted in. “We have plenty of money for the entire journey. There’s no reason to risk our backs hauling that thing to the village.”

Owen relaxed and replaced his bow upon his back. “You’re right,” he sighed. “Not worth the bother.”

They left the herd alone and continued onto Gerllaw, reaching it just over half an hour later and entering the village past its knee-height walls that perplexed Arwen as to their use. Why build such low walls, that even she could simply step over? Unlike in Alaru, none was awaiting their arrival, and it would have been odd if someone were, since none were informed of their travels outside of the group and the King.

Sandy-coloured stone was the big theme of Gerllaw, which contrasted its green hued surroundings but complimented the hot tone of the spring-transitioning-summer climate. News of the Kingdom’s peace had clearly arrived at Gerllaw, for its villagers were abuzz with activity and there was not an unsmiling face in sight. Some even waved and cheered them as they followed Gwyn, for the Sentinel was incredibly familiar with the village after apparently having been stationed there for a good month or two in his career. The wide and smooth stone streets were ablaze with stalls nestled up against the adjacent houses which all universally featured white tarp covering a modest wooden desk, displaying various wares and items for sale. The merchants were alive with the commerce, shouting and yelling at various passers-by’s when not chatting animatedly with customers, thankful for the shade underneath their protective tarp, which blocked the sun’s hot rays.

It was noticeably hotter in Gerllaw, too, for its monotone stone palette absorbed and reflected heat like a sponge to water. As a result, many of the dull yellow-coloured buildings featured up to a dozen small slits carved into the walls, with wooden shutters offering shelter from the curious eyes of onlookers, though most residents seemed to prefer keeping them open, allowing any cool wind into their homes and endure the prying eyes of passing people.

“Gwyn!” a particular merchant yelled whilst gesticulating wildly towards him. “Over here!”

“Elwin,” Gwyn immediately recognised the flapping merchant. “How’s it going?”

The group hovered around the merchant’s stall while he and Gwyn caught up. “Business has never been better since yesterday. Everyone’s in a celebratory mood! And that means they all want to go shopping,” the merchant, Elwin, gestured towards his glass statuettes neatly lined atop his desk. “These have been especially popular.”

“Glad to hear it,” Gwyn grinned. “How’s the family?”

“They’re in absolute jubilation,” Elwin replied happily. “We were so worried with the Helvetians at our doorstep. I mean, Ffin’s only two days from here and it’s been crawling with those bastards! To put rest our paranoia has put everyone in a good mood.”

“We’re actually on our way to Ffin ourselves,” Gwyn loose lips raised Arwen’s concern, but apparently the merchant was trustworthy enough for the insider information. “We’ll be overseeing the Helvetian’s relinquishing of our town back to us.”

“About time! I assume that means you didn’t come the Draig Maw way?” the merchant cocked his head.

Draig Maw was the name of the small cliff edge just north of Gerllaw, leading to the Ceirios Blossoms. Gwyn shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Elwin admitted. “But a friend of mine makes… charitable donations to the poor Cyfoethians who had been living under Helvetia’s thumb over in Ffin.”

“Charitable donations?” Gwyn cut him off with a sceptical expression.

“Well…” Elwin grimaced. “He secretly sells goods to the Helvetian soldiers there, too. Says its good money and it feeds his family, but don’t tell anyone! They’d skin him alive if anyone here found out he was selling to the enemy.”

“That’s vile,” Arwen muttered under her breath, but it seemed Elwin didn’t hear her, for he continued his explanation.

“Anyways, he was supposed to come back a day ago, but no sign of him,” Elwin shrugged. “He has enough… smuggled goods, to last him a bit out there, so he’s probably fine.”

Gwyn frowned. “You think he was attacked?”

“By who?”

A shrug. “Maybe the Helvetians weren’t feeling so… charitable, over having to give back Ffin, and decided to, uh, give us a display of their ire.”

Elwin’s face paled. “That would be horrible… you don’t think? No, it can’t be. Osian’s on good terms with the soldiers there. Yes, he’s probably just broke a wheel on his carriage or something.”

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Gwyn smiled sardonically. “Either way, we’ll be heading to Ffin ourselves, and will likely stop back on the way to Cyfoeth, so I’ll let you know if we see him.”

“You do that, please.”

“Alright, see you.” Gwyn disengaged from the stall and began his guiding duties once more through Gerllaw. When they arrived at the inn of his choosing, Arwen was desperate to get indoors. Her uniform had turned against her in the blazing heat. Cai equally looked sweaty, but Eryk seemed fine despite being overdressed for the season.

The Moethus Inn was wider than most buildings, but shorter, reminding Arwen more of a town hall than accommodations. When they entered, Arwen discovered that the inn formed a hollowed our square shape around a central fountain and garden, offering residents a luxurious view of nature as they disembarked from their rooms. While Gwyn spoke to the innkeeper, Arwen gazed around the open-spaced lobby in deep interest. The floors were a patterned tile layout, complimenting the yellow smooth stone of its walls where paintings depicting the Ceirios Blossoms, and a few of the Tower out by The Wastes lay hanging in neat rows as if lined up soldiers. A comforting breeze perpetually wafted through the interior, gently caressing Arwen’s body and massaging the heat out of her bones. Its open plan layout and slitted walls allowed such access to natural sunlight that the room was hardly dimmed from the outside, yet it felt as though they were in an entirely different climate. “Why is it so chilled in here?” Owen glanced around as if he could mark the source of the errant breeze.

Gwyn turned around to them. “They have a wind mage they employ in the spring and summer,” he explained. “He stirs up a breeze through the inn, keeping it cool throughout the day.”

“We’re fortunate to have him,” the innkeeper agreed. “He makes the summers bearable here, and his job isn’t too difficult since the nearby Wastes tends to disrupt the air around here.”

The level of control and power a wind mage wielded, Arwen remembered, was highly dependent on weather conditions. To try and incite dead air into a light breeze required a great deal of effort from even experienced wind mages, yet the most inexperienced and youthful mage could wield massive amounts of power in a storm, where winds are naturally gusty. Their dependence on weather was offset, however, by the immensely low toll their magic took on their mind. In fact, wind magic was the least dangerous to wield, and many could direct the air for hours on end without even coming close to mana madness. For mages like Cai and Arwen, conversely, mana madness was of great concern when wielding their own craft of magic.

Gwyn retrieved a single key and dangled it in front of himself. “Looks like we’re all sharing again.”

“We’re expecting too many visitors,” the innkeeper apologised. “But your room is spacious and should be adequate enough for you. If you’re staying here for pleasure, might I recommend the Ymyl Drop? You can make it there and back within a day, and the view of The Wastes and Tower is well worth the visit.”

“We have other business to attend to,” Gwyn smiled. “But thanks for the recommendation.”

-cut-

The night at Moethus Inn was a pleasant experience. Arwen had fallen asleep shortly after the breeze died down, signalling the wind mage’s retirement for the night. The room had heated up slightly afterwards but remained at a bearable level so long as Arwen did not cover herself with the inn’s provided blankets. The next morning, she awoke from a dreamless sleep to the pleasant breeze weaving its way through the room’s many slitted windows and proceeded to enjoy a dry but tasteful breakfast of buttered bread, cheese, grapes, and peppered crackers before departing the inn and beginning their two-day journey to Ffin.

“I really like Gerllaw,” Arwen commented to no one in particular. She remembered enjoying it as a child, too, back when she and her father visited.

“It’s expensive,” Cai grumped. “The merchants try to upsell you and that inn asked for a monstrously high price.”

“It’s worth it,” Gwyn defended himself. “The other inns are uncomfortable, and we’d have barely gotten any sleep with that heat keeping us up.”

“I enjoyed it,” Owen mumbled as they made their way out of Gerllaw and back onto the grassy plains of Laswelltog. “It was airy.”

Thankfully, the cool wind seemed to follow them out of the town and into the plains, for Arwen suspected the weather today would be unbearably hot if not. It took a good two-thirds of the burning daylight in order to reach Draig Maw and the dirt path that weaved its way up the small rocky cliffside of which by then, the Princess’s scalp was burning alongside her hair. She fussed over the fact that it would go grey if subject this much mistreatment, much to the boy’s annoyance.

What awaited the group at the top of Draig Maw, however, was a sight Arwen had been looking forward to since the yesterday morning. To the left, or western, side of the dirt path that had no name in the travel guide Arwen had brought with her, the trees of Ceirios Blossoms stood tall. A canvas of pink and white interspersed in a brushstroke display dazzled her eyes, contrasting the relatively dark colour of the blossom’s barks. The entirety of the ground beneath the trees were alight in a sea of petals, shining a rosy mix of white and pink as the dappled sunlight filtered through the trees. Small ponds were equally smothered in the fallen leaves, their only tell of water being the slight dip in the ground and the occasional lily that had fought its way past to expose itself to the sunlight.

Conversely, to Arwen’s right, an eclectic mixture of marshy mud and patches of grey-green grass exposed the Liliau Ponds, of which were all brimming with crystal clear water that highlighted the silty bottom of each dip. Pinkish-white water lilies sat regally atop the water, sprouting yellow tendrils from its centre mass. At each pond, dozens of little frogs sat almost completely still in an eerie unison, and as Arwen stared at these curious creatures, she realised the textbook bulging of their under-mouth was completely absent. “Are those real?”

“They’re called Rhewi frogs,” Gwyn followed the Princess’s gaze. “Rhewi being Deinian for ‘frozen’. They still completely when something’s watching, and are very hard to sneak up on in order to see them move.”

Arwen beckoned for Eryk to slow so she could retrieve her travel guide from her bag. Flipping through the pages, she stopped at the chapter on the Liliau Ponds and navigated towards the fauna section. “The Rhewi frogs,” she recited from the book, “are a species of frog native to Liliau Ponds famous for their uncanny ability to completely freeze when being watched. How they are so capable of realising someone’s watching is unknown, however it is thought to be an anti-predator response to the local snake and bird populations that are highly reliant on movement when hunting prey. When frozen, a Rhewi frog ceases all movement and even breathing. They have been observed to hold their breath for up to an hour, after which small but noticeable movements can be observed as they replenish oxygen. These frogs will not move even when provoked, and can be touched and even picked up without reaction.”

“It’s creepy,” Owen couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the statue-still animals. “They’re not even croaking.”

“They’re harmless,” Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly. “Let’s not worry about them.”

Arwen was a little weirded out, but she took Gwyn’s advice and focused instead on the natural beauty of the Ceirios Blossoms to her left. As they walked, slight shuffling and dripping noises were heard as the frogs recommenced movement, and a loud chorus of croaks eventually followed. Whenever Arwen turned around, however, the noise immediately stilled and not a single frog was moving. On multiple occasions, she tried to surprise the frogs by whipping around at random, hoping to catch one mid-hop, but every time she was met with the painting-still visage of a hundred frogs silently frozen in place. They were definitely moving, she noted, as the composition of their whereabouts changed every time she peaked, but she couldn’t ever catch one moving, even when slyly angling her head to see behind herself.

Eventually, she gave up trying to catch a frog in the act and took in the scenery around her. It helped distract from the pain in her legs and feet. Despite the wind, her hair still felt dangerously hot and the back of her neck felt raw- likely sunburnt by now. At one point, she suggested they walk just off of the dirt path and under the blossom trees for shade, but Cai had shot her down. “We’ll be slower weaving through the trees, and we also risk falling into a hidden pond what with all those leaves hiding the ground.”

Arwen had opted not to suggest anything more, since any sort of diversion was shot down by the boys, who just wanted to get the Ffin as fast as possible and comfort be damned. Despite this, she was somewhat prone to enjoy herself out in the picturesque blossoms, but as the sky began to darken and the group mere minutes away from deciding to stop for the night, they spotted something.

A slightly rotting horse lay on its side directly in the middle of the dirt path. The carriage it had been pulling was also upturned and had spilled its contents all over the path and into surrounding blossoms and ponds. One of the many crates that had tumbled out was half-sunk into a pond, while a frozen Rhewi frog sat atop another. Cai immediately stopped the group. “Arwen, stay behind us.”

Arwen nodded even though no one could see her. She felt the ever-unwelcome sensation of fear prickling its way up her spine. Her hot and sweaty skin grew clammy and cold, and she instinctively retrieved the dagger from her ankle strap and clutched it tightly in her hand. When her eyes followed Cai’s intense stare and she sighted a body lying by the upturned carriage, an involuntary gasp burst forth from her lips.

It was a little hard to tell, but the body was deathly pale. Its sheet-white visage almost seemed to gleam among the darkening light while its eyes and cheeks were incredibly sunken. Arwen’s eyes widened in horror when she realised what those bodies were symptomatic of. “It’s a vampire attack,” fear tainted Cai’s voice as he reached the same conclusion. “We need to get the fuck out of here!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a small figure emerged from behind the carriage and stumbled directly onto the middle of the dirt path. As the loose blossom leaves twisted and danced in the air, dropping from their lofty heights in the trees, the vampire stared directly towards them.