The next morning heralded an effortless beauty as the dappled rays of the rising sun illuminated the petal-like leaves of the Ceirios Blossoms and glistened off of the smooth surface of the frog-infested ponds. Contrarily, Arwen and her retainers all woke up and grimly set out to their morning tasks. Where easy conversation and the occasional laughter once dimpled between light tones, the group was now entirely silent save for a few grunts of thanks as food was handed around. The fly-infested corpses of the merchant and his horse lay a mere hundred or so metres away from their sleeping site, and Arwen did not look forward to the prospect of passing it by when they inevitably started the last leg of their journey to Ffin.

Arwen’s injuries felt manageable after the healing touch of sleep was applied to her wounds. Her left arm was by far the worst as it sent achingly hot arcs of pain down to her hands, while her cheek was contrarily only a little sore, the skin soft and puffy upon touch. Her right arm mercifully only burned a touch. Her back, which was a minor concern reserved in the farthest recess of her mind the previous night, now ached and cracked painfully every time she moved. Her throat also felt relatively normal, though a raw feeling remained. When she tested the mobility of her right arm, she was relieved when short, twitching movements allowed her to partly lift it, but the pain and strain that accompanied the movement was so intense that she let it be. With enough dedication, she could even close and open her fingers, though it was a slow and painstaking process.

After they had set off, scrapes and scratches Arwen hadn’t even realised marred her legs bloomed to life, adding additional agony to her abused body. Owen was supporting Gwyn as he made slow, pained movements that, combined with the warming heat of the sun, caused the Sentinel to break out into a dire sweat. Eryk had packed up the sleeping bags and also carried Arwen’s bag, while Cai had his own around his shoulders, of which Gwyn’s empty leather bag was stuffed inside before setting off.

As they passed the slightly rotted bodies of the merchant and his horse, the group only silently observed the horrendous scene as they slowly walked past. None of them even bothered to look at the headless corpse of the vampire woman, Elain. Arwen had thought of digging a grave for the unnamed merchant, but held her tongue. They were barely going to reach Ffin before night at this rate, and wasting precious hours and energy digging a grave on holy land was only going to create problems.

“I don’t think we should mention this to the Helvetians at Ffin,” Arwen’s voice was still scratchy, but much improved. “If they tell the Church we killed within the Ceirios Blossoms, there could be trouble…”

“What?” Cai sounded outraged. “You mean to say we’d be trialled by them?”

“Investigated, at least,” Arwen swallowed, still finding it a tad difficult to speak. “I think they’d likely side with us in the end, but it’s not worth the trouble…”

The Church was a neutral entity which had refused to indulge in the two countries’ “warring ways”, whatever that meant. Historically, however, they had been known to side with Helvetia against Cyfoeth when both countries were arguing over Cyfoeth’s right for independence, but nowadays the Church preferred equal treatment based solely on objective fact, not politics. Doubtlessly, the killing of a vampire on holy ground would likely ruffle a few feathers, but they would ultimately be excused by self-defence. Still, Arwen was sure Helvetia could make a volcano out of a small hill should they accuse her of murder. It was far better to simply report the incident back in Gerllaw and let Cyfoeth quietly deal with the situation. Arwen just hoped no one else would stumble across the body, especially with pilgrimage through the Ceirios Blossoms being a much more enticing prospect now that peace had been established with Helvetia for Cyfoeth’s many religious citizens.

Arwen’s suggestion was followed by another long silence that lasted several hours as they traversed the eastern edge of Ceirios Blossoms. Though the number of Rhewi frogs to their right in the Liliau ponds waxed and waned, the sheer unity they all displayed in their stubborn refusal to move when watched was really warring on Arwen’s mind. It made her feel as though she was being perpetually watched.

Whether desiring the need to fill the void, or his internal thoughts simply needed an outlet to spill, Gwyn spoke up in a quiet, cautious voice. “Some hero I am,” he winced- the mere act of talking sent a sharp ache arcing across his midsection. “I lay uselessly on the floor while all of you were fighting. My… cowardice resulted in Arwen’s injuries- she can barely move her arm. I feel ashamed of myself.”

“Don’t be,” Cai was quick to reassure. “You’ll be far more useful to us alive in the future, and you didn’t know it was safe to sit up at the time. I haven’t read many books, but the hero always suffers a setback, right? It’s how they deal with those setbacks that defines them.”

“You’re right,” Gwyn coughed out. “I shouldn’t let this eat at me, but… it does.”

“At least you actually contributed,” Owen met the Sentinel’s gaze. “I just stood there and watched, pretty much.”

“You did the right thing,” Eryk jumped at the archer’s self-criticism. “Arrows wouldn’t have harmed that woman in the slightest, and hitting us would have been disastrous. Staying back for you was the correct move. You cannot brawl a vampire.”

“Yet you did just that, Eryk,” Cai remarked in a slightly accusatory tone. “How was it you were so freakishly strong?”

Eryk laughed casually. “Come now! I was hardly a match for her.”

But Cai refused to back off. “None of us could even hope to do the things you were doing. You know that, so stop dancing around the issue.”

“Look,” a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you. I know vampires, how they act, how they fight. My past experiences just gave me so much adrenaline that I was really strong for but a moment. It won’t happen again.”

Cai squinted suspiciously but let the matter drop. Arwen herself didn’t know how to react. For once, she was grateful to Eryk for his participation in holding off the crazed vampire, but she was ambiguous to the level of strength he displayed without ever touching blood. “Who was she, anyways?” Owen asked.

“Her name was Elain,” Arwen replied demurely. She still had a lot of thoughts buzzing in her mind. The should haves and would haves tore at her, threatening to break through the false air of calm she was trying to project. “She went mad after her husband died in Alaru and she was caught stealing from a vendor. She got a taste for blood and just… couldn’t handle the temptation.”

“The best way to avoid blood frenzies is to never touch blood in the first place.” Eryk echoed a long-standing vampire sentiment for those who sought refuge among human civilisations such as Cyfoeth. “She was desperate, but she ultimately chose to feed off of innocent men and women.”

“Elain, was it?” Cai considered Arwen’s information in deep thought. “She had to have been feeding consistently for some time to have gotten that strong.”

“Her aversion to physical trauma was remarkable,” Eryk concurred. “The merchant’s body definitely played a huge role, but prior feeding was certainly taken.”

“Let’s hope she had a taste for Helvetians,” Gwyn joked quietly. “Being so far into what was Helvetian territory.”

The rest of their journey was without incident or much conversation, leaving Arwen to her insecurities. She felt as though she should be happy… she was the one to stop the fight, after all. But why did it take such a close brush with death to figure out a way to stop the vampire? Why was Arwen too stupid to use the Light Gem at the first opportunity, instead of running in like a fool and severely injuring herself? She could have prevented a great deal of pain, both for herself and her retainers… but she chose to go for the most reckless and stupid option instead. You should’ve run away, like I told you… Owen’s words ran through her mind in repetition. Since when did she think she could aid the men in protecting her, when she had no combat experience herself? Arwen always knew she was a tad prideful, but she didn’t know it bordered on stupidity…

Am I… enough? Arwen couldn’t figure out the answer. First it was her inaction at Alaru while Cai and the others had done the talking, then it was her failure at progressing her magic, and now it was her foolhardy disregard for her own life.

With their slow progress, what should’ve been a sunset arrival at Ffin was now a late-night incursion into the border town. Upon arrival, a Helvetian soldier met them with a distant enough greeting to impress upon them his unwillingness to associate with the dirty Cyfoethians and proceeded to surround the party with five more soldiers before escorting them to a black-and-white house obscured by the murky darkness. He opened the door and gestured inside. “Sleep,” he said in Deinian. Then, as he slammed the door shut behind him, Arwen heard him mutter something about ‘locking the bastards in’ in Iekean before five sets of footfalls signified their departure.

“I assume we’re to just… rest the night?” Cai asked.

Gwyn attempted a shrug, but quickly aborted with a slight wince. “I suppose we’ll see their commander tomorrow.”

The house they were in was completely bare, featuring wooden plank floors and plain white walls. Therefore, the group were forced to lay out their sleeping bags in the largest downstairs room and hunker down for another uncomfortable night.

The next morning, Arwen awoke with a start to banging on the front door of their temporary home. She groaned as she stood up, enduring the pins-and-needles in her still limp right arm and stretching her legs before they could seize up at the sudden use. Cai, either being already awake, or was the fastest at gathering himself, danced past the five lain out sleeping bags and opened the door. “Yes?”

“Commander Ailsa will see you in the front square,” a harsh sounding voice accosted Cai in the Helvetian Iekean before he could even finish inching open the door. “Do not take long.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Cai turned to Arwen with a confused expression, being unable to understand the Helvetian dialect. “Help here? I have no idea what he’s saying.”

With a big sigh, Arwen approached the door and opened it further so she could lay eyes on their offending intruder, ridding herself of her swirling doubts so that she could temporarily project the authoritative air she needed to wrangle the Helvetian soldiers. The man had sandy brown hair and blue eyes, and wore the black-and-silver Helvetian uniform signifying his status as a member of their military. Unlike Cyfoeth, Helvetia’s military identified rank by uniform, and the man’s singular star pinned underneath his right breast exposed him as a low-ranking recruit. “What do you want?” Arwen snapped in an equally harsh tone as the recruit, made only more aggressive by the naturally confrontational vocation of the Iekean language.

The man’s eyes widened upon sighting the deep black bruise under Arwen’s right eye, but quickly recovered himself. “Who are you?”

“The Princess of Cyfoeth,” Arwen shot him an unimpressed look, having no patience for Helvetian scum. She was already at her limit after the vampire attack. “I must say, your accommodation for us has been disgusting. How do you think this will bear on your Commander?”

The recruit held his tongue on any cruel retort his pea-brain could think of. “Please make haste to see Commander Ailsa in the square. I’ll wait to escort you.”

“Give us ten minutes,” Arwen nudged Cai out of the way and slammed the door. She switched back to her native Deinian tongue as she addressed the knight. “We’re to meet their Commander in the front square, he says.”

“Alright,” Cai gestured with his head towards the rest of the boys who had been listening in. “Let’s get ourselves ready.”

“Not you,” Arwen pointed with her moveable hand towards Eryk. “Bringing a vampire to the Helvetians may aggravate them, and it’s important that this whole thing runs smoothly until they’re gone.”

Eryk began to protest, but Arwen cut him off. “No!” she immediately regretted raising her voice as a dry pain spread across her throat. She said her next words in a quieter tone. “Stay with Gwyn and make sure no one tries to mess with our belongings.”

“I’ll go,” Gwyn grimaced as he tried to stand.

“No,” Cai shook his head. “Stay. Rest.”

“Am I allowed to come?” Owen asked with a sly smirk.

Cai rolled his eyes in response. “Yes, of course you are. Now, let’s do this.”

-cut-

“Greetings, Cyfoethians,” Commander Ailsa greeted the three who stood before her in her limited and heavily accented Deinian tongue.

They were all stood in the front square, surrounding by guarding Helvetian soldiers and curious citizens eager to watch the Cyfoethains reclaim their town. The sun was shining brightly onto the front square, made entirely out of cobbled stone and served as a needed open space in the otherwise narrow and winding passageways of Ffin’s streets. Around them, various houses, taverns, and shops stood in a mixture of colours and textures, ranging from white-and-black painted patterns, simple brick houses, and plain smooth white fronts.

The Commander was, somewhat surprisingly, a tall woman of an average albeit muscular build and a stern expression accentuated by her steely grey eyes and ash brown hair braided into a long ponytail. She looked to be in her late twenties and donned the Helvetian silver and black uniform no different to the other soldiers and was impeccably neat, with five large silver stars positioned just under her right breast signifying her high stature among the Helvetian military.

Conversely, Arwen stood in her crumpled and dirty Cyfeothian royal uniform, with Cai and Owen stood adjacent and slightly behind her. The boys looked relatively excusable, but Arwen’s messy hair, battered mien, and dangling arm presented a hopeless bedraggled look to the despairing onlookers. She had opted to bring her dagger and Light Gem with her, but was optimistically hoping neither of them would be needed. Not that they would help, realistically. The three Cyfoethians were severely outnumbered by the Helvetian soldiers. Arwen suppressed a deep breath. She couldn’t mess this up. Her long string of failures and lacklustre performances end here. “Speak your native tongue,” Arwen’s Iekean was well-practised and of a high standard for a non-native speaker. “It will be easier this way.”

Commander Ailsa complied. “Alright…” she cocked her head with her hands lain akimbo on her hips. “So, you’re the one in charge? Judging by your position and uniform?”

Arwen didn’t feel much in charge, right now, but since she was the only one aside from Eryk who spoke Iekean, she was tasked with this duty. “I am.”

Ailsa laughed humourlessly. “How odd to see a woman commanding in the Cyfoethian military. I could count on my fingers the number of female grunts I’ve fought from your country, let alone the ones that actually held any rank. But, let me guess… you’re clearly someone special. I thought red and gold was reserved for royalty?”

Arwen stared blankly, hoping she could mimic the uncompromising air her father could exude sometimes. “I am Arwen Blayney, Princess and heir to Cyfoeth.”

“Truly?” Ailsa appeared genuinely shocked. “What is someone like you doing here, executing such a mundane military task? Aren’t you required in the castle or something?”

“I believe this matter is of serious importance, don’t you?” Arwen retorted evenly.

“And you look like you’ve been dragged all the way here!” Ailsa chuckled, ignoring her rhetorical question.

Arwen’s lips curled in a half-smile. “We train very rigorously.”

“What?” Ailsa exclaimed with widened eyes. She briefly shot an astounded glance around at her men. “Seriously? Is it normal for your retainers to regularly beat the shit out of their Princess? Your boys don’t seem injured at all… so, you just let em wail on you? I mean, look at you. You’ve been hit in the face, your right arm looks useless, and… have you been strangled?! Is that why your voice is so weird and deep?”

“Like I said…” Arwen maintained eye contract. “We train with extreme rigour.”

Ailsa snorted sarcastically. “Clearly.”

“We are wasting time. I assume your soldiers are ready to depart?”

A brief stare. Arwen felt herself being sized up by the older woman. “We can leave by the afternoon if you wish it.”

Arwen nodded. “I do.”

“We’ll be taking all of the supplies that we brought to Ffin, but otherwise everything else is yours. I’d usually smuggle a few things out, if I’m honest,” Ailsa shrugged in her best Owen impression. “But orders from the top say I ought to leave you all be.”

“Do you desire any resources for the coming journey?” Arwen cocked her head in feigned interest. To admit that they did would be confessing to a measure of incompetency, since who doesn’t prepare for a quick retreat from a stronghold or military camp?

The Commander seemed to realise this, too, since she mimicked Arwen’s expression and shook her head. “Jeez,” she muttered just loud enough for Arwen to hear, “you southerners are all crazy. Sending a bunch of children to conduct military business… what a joke.”

“So, you’ll go?”

“What if I just kill you all and then leave?” Ailsa stepped forward threateningly, smirking when Cai and Owen stiffened behind the Princess. “You may be a lightning mage, but what good could you do against nearly a hundred men with only one working arm?”

Arwen recognised the posturing and immediately discarded the threat in her mind, even as her heart screamed at her to act in some way. “You wouldn’t risk starting another war. What if it angered King Fiske?”

Ailsa scoffed in return. “Such confidence for one of such small stature. Alright, your- what do they call it in your country? – ‘Teyrn’, is it? Let’s talk logistics. By the afternoon, the complete removal of all Helvetian presence from Ffin will commence…”

-cut-

“That was really tough,” Arwen muttered to her two retainers as they stood by the outskirts of Ffin town watching the backs of dozens upon dozens of Helvetian soldiers march northwards towards their Kingdom. “I just felt like… I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Don’t be silly,” Cai lent her a surprised glance. “Granted, I didn’t understand much at all, but you were great! I’d have had no idea you were nervous or anything.”

Arwen wanted to say he was lying, especially since Owen’s expression never truly changed. But she kept her thoughts to herself.

In the meantime, the departure of the Helvetians symbolised a new rebirth for Ffin, whose tense residents wasted no time in breaking into cheer and throwing a massive party in the town square. The thrum of voices and music behind them beat an artificial pulse into Arwen’s heart. A deep drum thumped rhythmically, accompanied by the wafting tones of an acoustic guitar weaving a gentle chorus of notes into the night sky.

The citizens had hailed Arwen as a hero upon entering back into Ffin, cheering and whooping at their saviour Princess who’d personally braved the wilderness outside of the Kingdom to rescue them. A particularly tearful woman had grabbed onto Cai’s arm and professed that she owed them all for life after freeing them from the tyranny of Helvetia. It seemed to Arwen that, credit where it was due, the Helvetians treated the Cyfoeth citizens quite well after annexing the town, so the confession of devotion was a bit dramatic, but she was nevertheless beaming at the praises and cheers being sent her way. She felt good. When Cai had moved to shake the joyful woman off of his arm, Arwen turned and stopped him. “W-wait,” she addressed the lithe woman. “Do you know where a doctor is?”

-cut-

Almost three hours later, the doctor, an old and moody man who seemed indifferent to Ffin’s newfound freedom finished his assessment.

Gwyn did indeed have several fractured ribs, although thankfully none broken. His treatment was several white bandages around his midsection and a set of grim looking leaves to chew on whenever the pain grew intense. “You guys need to leave in a hurry?” the doctor’s coarse and perpetually sarcastic-sounding voice grated on Arwen, but he reigned in her impatience, for the old man really seemed to know his business.

“We can stay for a day or two, but I wouldn’t want to leave it any longer,” Cai confessed.

The doctor barked out a laugh. “Don’t want to soak up all of the praises, then? Well,” he shook his head slightly. “Two days is better than nothing I suppose. What you all seem to need is lots of rest and sleep. Mr. Myrick will heal in about… three weeks, give or take. Now, do those bandages feel tight at all?”

Gwyn was red with embarrassment from all the attention whilst lying shirtless on a dining table in a stranger’s house, but he shook his head regardless in response. His brown hair made a gritty sounding noise as it slid to and fro on the table.

“Good,” the doctor said. “If it ever feels tight, you take that off, okay? Better to lose the support than having it restrict your breathing. Do not lift any heavy objects- and I mean it- especially whatever hunk of a weapon you swing around, and get someone else to do that for you. Lying down like this is fine, but don’t sit still for too long, try to move around wherever possible. Oh, and if you ever need to cough, as much as it may be painful, please just let yourself cough.”

Gwyn raised his head slightly to appraise the bushy-haired doctor. “I thought coughing would slow down healing.”

“Your lungs need to clear mucus, keeps em clean. Coughing is the body’s way of looking after itself in situations like yours. Just let it happen.”

Eryk was next. The red finger marks around his neck and the scratches underneath his eye instantly caught the doctor’s attention, but after a minute, he declared his throat and face just fine. The vampire’s rib was only bruised, not fractured or broken, and although the dark mark on his chest appeared worrying, the doctor assured the vampire would be absolutely okay.

Cai and Owen had no obvious injuries, nor did they complain when the doctor appraised them, so he turned his attention to Arwen, finally. “You got lucky with whoever strangled you,” the doctor spoke down to Arwen as she lay on her back on his table. She felt awfully exposed with so many people towering over her. “No permanent damage, your voice should return to normal soon. Expect soreness and bouts of dizziness, possibly even mood swings. The red marks will fade with time. In the meantime, I’ll give you a soothing syrup that should help your throat feel less raw.”

The bruise under Arwen’s right eye was likewise cause for very little concern. Unfortunately, when it came to her arms, the doctor stated he’d need to see the skin up to her shoulder. Problematic, since her uniform was long-sleeved and wouldn’t roll up that high. “Alright, boys, get out and wait outside,” the doctor demanded the awaiting group. “I doubt the Princess here wants you all ogling her, so scram!”

Arwen didn’t think she ever blushed as much as she did in that moment. Cai, being the most protective of the lot, hesitated and looked as though he wanted to protest, but after observing the Princess’s flustered expression, he turned and silently bid a hasty retreat. “I hope you’re wearing an undershirt,” the doctor dryly remarked.

She let her head fall back against the examining table. Fuck…