A Knight's Lilies

“Aye, Melisgrad is an accursed place. Over the course of less than half a week, a city of just under a quarter million souls was reduced to less than two hundred. Reconstruction is taking place sure, and the people of the Frostwind being granted lands aplenty in the fertile basin around the city will certainly help. But by the Goddess, how will anyone ever erase the scars of the solstice? Even on the cobbles and walls, I can still see their shadows, whispering to me to join them. Like I was someone left behind. Bless you for being willing to go there lad, I’m moving out to the countryside on the morrow. The sooner I’m away the better.”

-   Testimony of Former Town Guardsmen Herwyn, Patrol 4-6A, Melisgrad Incident Survivor

Aryana twiddled her hands nervously. She’d never really been much good with people. When the Frostfyres sequestered her away she found that most of the tribe’s children shied away from her, “the witchy kid from the marsh”, they called her. There’s not even a marsh anywhere on the mountain! She knew her social skills were lacking in some respects but even now she found herself befuddled trying to keep up, preferring instead the quietness of her present company.

Back then, it was by chance she had snuck away, and even more so to meet one of the Hartire, gah…elf, call her an elf. The elf had seemed rugged, if a little haunted by her adventures, but fortunately showed enough kindness to allow her to tag along on their journey, bringing her to the meeting of tribes. Yet, while she never gave the Frostfyres doom filled prophecies much thought, recent events had left her shaken and a part of her wondered if she had been some sort of unintended catalyst to it all. She was, after all, according to them the prophesied child of flame who would bring an end to all things. Indeed, she saw how the lagrian city of Melisgrad had been so thoroughly cleansed of life that she still shuddered every time she thought of it. Wondering if her escape from the tribe was what spelled doom for the poor city.

The ranger Annalise had assured her that she was fine, and indeed the powerful ranger’s words had offered some slight comfort. For despite being a cripple, Annalise had deftly negotiated her freedom from the tribes and led an entire unit of soldiers in the heat of battle, all whilst she cowered behind the ranger. There was some stock in her words, be it the experience behind them or the grit at tackling whatever problem lay ahead. Still, Aryana had some doubts.

Then there was the scowling girl, Mila. She had remained mostly silent during the little time Aryana spent with her, but her prowess in combat was something Aryana yearned to master. With her almost machine-like dispatching of her foes; be they orcs, phantoms, or the massive flesh abomination; there was still a sense that the scowling girl was not quite present. That there was something else haunting her beyond the actual phantoms that haunted the city.

Her eyes turned to the strange elf next to her, the girl’s chest rising steady up and down, her breathing offering a calm rhythmic backdrop to Aryana’s dizzying array of thoughts. During the battle for Melisgrad, they had found her bleeding profusely from all manner of wounds, a blade piercing her heart and countless little crystalline shard piercing into her body. Aryana had thought her dead, but the ranger had only grunted before pulling out the sword to reveal a horrifying sight. The elf had no heart. That is to say, when Aryana mustered up the courage to peek past the ranger, she saw that where there should’ve been a beating heart, there was none. Naturally the excessive blood that poured from the wound, combined with the hundreds of nearby corpses had elicited a gagging reflex. Aryana had faltered and stepped away to vomit. But, when she returned she allowed curiosity to get a hold of her and when the ranger wasn’t watching she leaned in close, pressing her ear up against the elf's breast.

Aryana had never been chilled by hearing a heartbeat before, perhaps only when her fellow tribe members would come to harass her and she hid inside her house with only her own heartbeat for company. But, as she listened in, the bone chilling sounds of a beating heart echoed from the elf, strained and rapid from her injuries, to be sure, but a heartbeat nonetheless. Her surprised gasp alerted the ranger and promptly led to her being berated for potentially hurting Sophie, leaving her quietly trailing the ranger as they called for aid. The kindly hartire, Vulen, the singer of trees, was one of the first healers to arrive, the armoured Duke also returning after having kept most of the soldiers away from the rubble under the ranger’s advice.

Aryana still remembered the haunting words that came from the hartire’s mouth, “I can bind her wounds, though they will take time to heal. But how she clings to life and breathes I wish not to know, for when I look at her, all I can feel is dread. Whatever magic courses through her belongs to no God, yet she behaves much like your human 'saints' do. Be wary, there is no telling what may happen to her in the long run, you must be prepared to strike her down should the worse come to pass.”

That was how they ended up down at the temporarily declared capital of Marrest, a small port city two day’s ride south of the former capital. It took less than half a day after arriving for an emergency court session declaring an enforced peace across the nation, the resettlement of any willing tribals within lagrian lands, and the negotiations of a ceasefire with the nation from which Sophie hailed from. The buzz of court had driven her mind into a state of frenzy, forcing Aryana to spend most of her time huddled behind the others, the countless voices overwhelming her senses. It was also here that their ‘boons from the king’ were announced, and she found herself horrifyingly honored as a hero of the crisis alongside the ranger, the scowling girl, druids, and contingent of tribal chieftains who looked at her with disdain. In particular, Galan Frostfyre, the hotheaded, blonde haired, blue eyed and muscular chief of her clan had glared at her with such hatred in his eyes, that Aryana wilted at the thought of how he would likely not end his pursuits at the borders of Melton.

Still, there were countless foods she had yet to try and so many decorations, colors and fabrics that kept her attention that she barely noticed when the young king announced the time for boons. Annalise the ranger had asked for a mark that allowed her free travel through the kingdom, marking her as one of its rangers, and though being an adventurer also gave her much leeway, with this all of Melton was accessible to her. Mila, still scowling during the ceremony, asked not for a permanent Astralian adjutant to the crown that many of the nobles expected, but had instead asked for all villages that suffered during the crisis to be rebuilt and supported. A request that saw many throwing praise at the seemingly uncaring girl. So much so that they even included an permanent Astralian church presence with the crown anyways in gratitude, though judging by her expression, Aryana could tell that thought had never entered her mind, and that it was something the nobles had thought from the ‘holier than thou’ attitude of the inquisitor.

When it came to her turn she spluttered and choked trying to speak in front of so many people. Without wants or much needs besides a desire to see the world, she managed to blurt out her request.

“Something to keep us safe on our travels. Please?”

The crowd grew silent before roaring with laughter and Aryana squirmed, embarrassment tingling her cheeks when the king finally silenced the crowd. She found, thrust into her hands a small pouch of gold coins “enough to last a year if not more” the king had said, earning another uproarious laugh from the crowd. Then they brought forth a set of blackened leather cuirass and a beautifully crafted steel sword with a slightly fuzzy looking hilt. At the sight of them the whole crowd grounded to an immediate mournful silence.

“For your party, I guess.” The king had said with a note of sorrow in his eyes, “I had these repaired after the battle. Lord Roderick if you’d please.” The king beckoned to his bodyguard.

The man gestured at the attendant who kneeled in front of the party, presenting the blade and armour. Aryana just stared in confusion until Annalise elbowed her and she reluctantly accepted the gift.

“People of Melton and allies from all around. Today we celebrate, but tomorrow we shall mourn the deaths of many. For me, and most of you I’m sure, we have lost those closest to us to magics yet unknown. But it is in his spirit, his valor, his bravery even in his defiance against me to protect his ideals that I will seek to honor. Alvin Meltius had always been the more adventurous one, the more willing one to liaison with the common folk and that, that I have failed to do. The war against Carrador began well but my lack of understanding did not lead just to civil war but for cultists to completely decimate the capital and its people. Costing us greatly and taking even the life of my dearest brother. As such, I believe his armour and blade will carry forth a part of him that will appreciate being taken on a journey by such heroes. Allow me to offer my thanks then, and to honor my brother by presenting to you the royal blade Lion’s Mane, and may it serve you well in your journeys to come. The pride roars eternal.” He finished.

“The pride roars eternal.” The crowd quietly echoed, and the ceremony concluded.

Festivities quickly resumed and Aryana found herself shrinking back from the action, even if she was secretly appreciative of the jovial mood in the wake of the Melisgrad disaster.

Tired from reminiscing, she let out a big yawn, her eyes refocusing back to the comatose Sophie. Vulen had assured them that she was merely in a recovery coma, her body possessing extraordinary healing abilities beyond that of a normal elf or human. Two weeks had been his guess on when she would awaken, buoyed by whatever supernatural powers had healed her. By Aryana’s count it had already been a week and a half, yet seeing the recovery in person, she was almost certain that Sophie was also Vaettagh, a spirit chosen. No normal mortal could survive those wounds, much less live without a heart. She prodded Sophie’s cheeks, finding them smooth and squishy, and before she could poke more she heard the distinctive limping of the ranger and retreated.

“Still hanging out below decks? It’s not healthy to be stuck here for this long, you know?” Annalise joking chided, “Well, unless being on deck makes your hurl your guts out.” She finished with a snigger.

Aryana got up off the bed, giving the ranger a small nod.

“Don’t worry, she’s not going anywhere. Hells, Mila’s just across the corridor, she’d shout if anything happened. Well, assuming she isn’t puking.” Annalise chuckled some more.

They had set off roughly two days ago from Marrest on one of the royal galleons, The Pride, a temporary gift from the king to see them to their destination. They were assigned spacious enough quarters, though she still suffered seasickness the first few hours before recovering, and the scowling inquisitor had been confined to puking.

With a sigh, Aryana followed Annalise back up to the deck, the salt laden air bringing forth a refreshing sea breeze under a warm sun and blue skies.

Waves gently lapped against the ship’s hull, the oversized galleon originally meant for diplomatic missions now served to carry them forward, and perhaps one of the most oversized humanoids Aryana had laid eyes on since. Boisterous laughter came from the portside as sailors and marines chatted happily with a large furry bull.

“Ranger! So I see you’ve managed to coax our mysterious passenger above deck!” Taurox bellowed.

“Pshaw, Saints know how long she spent watching Sophie.” Annalise replied nonchalantly, though the jokingly accusatory glance still sent Aryana huddling up behind her.

“Shy one isn’t she?” One of the sailors chimed in, earning a small guffaw amongst the gathered crowd.

“Don’t tease her too much or she might just charge back down.” Annalise tsked with a slight giggle, earning another round of chuckles.

Just after the funeral processions honoring the deceased Prince and those lost in the territorial war and civil war, a silver and black clad group of soldiers arrived at the city. At the head of the new arrivals was a tall and strange man wearing a coat and armour dyed fully black. Though Aryana was worried at first, he had commended Mila first for her conduct, before sharing what she could only assume was a look of respect with the ranger. Then had come a female version of him, though slightly less rugged but no less menacing. To Aryana’s surprise Mila’s scowl faded and the two shared a warm look. The female then absconded with the scowling girl for the rest of their stay until their departure.

The giant armoured humanoid bull beast had appeared then, looking worn down but still functioning. He stood heads above her and his very presence alone had Aryana frozen in fear. Yet, the ranger seemed to even joke with the creature, asking after it just as it asked about their affairs. Viktor and Taurox, the two had introduced themselves briefly to her. Though she could barely stammer out her words under his overwhelming presence. Through the inquisitors she was introduced to the idea of the templar order, people sworn to guard the land from heresy and darkness. Enamored as she was with the silver armour, she couldn’t help but wonder if they considered her as a heretic and grew even more wary of the furry beast. At the very least their words brought her some small comfort at the thought of her people, “We’ll stay behind for a while to mop up the remnants of the cult. We’ll meet in Arteria soon enough.” And just like that, the giant beast joined the party, and the scary looking inquisitor disappeared into the crowds.

Besides that, it was a peaceful and thankfully calm few days, if a tad too noisy. However, Aryana was content to spend most of it reading what books were present and sneaking away from the others to explore the city herself. Her eyes widened with enthusiasm and surprise at the scale and colors of the city, be it festive or mournful. The stonework, scents, smells, sounds and textures all astounded her and she came to a clear conclusion, village life sucks, sequestered village life sucks worse. With that she knew her life goal, to live near a city and own a manor house, yes, that would be optimal.

When they had eventually finished their stay and set to board, the minotaur was welcomed warmly by the sailors. Evidently despite being the size of a small tree, their people were accomplished sailors in the land of Potomia, wherever that may be. Their presence spelled luck for the crew though Aryana didn’t feel lucky. She had stuck to the back of the group and thus remained mostly unnoticed, but had caught the eye of the crew for her distinctive ginger hair and paleness. “The shyest magician.” The ranger had declared.

“Ginger mage, come ‘ere.” Someone called out, snapping Aryana out of her thoughts.

Confused, she looked around to find Annalise nudging her up to the help, the bearded captain of the vessel beckoning to her. Her shocked look and confusion elicited another round of laughs from the sailors and she nervously trekked up the stairs to the helm, the ranger flashing her a not at all reassuring smile.

“Oooh, called by the cap’n.”

“Could always use a good pep talk.”

“Having fun Taurox?”

“Enjoying the free time at least, ranger.”

Echoed the voices behind her. The aged captain flashed her a smile not unlike that of the elders of the tribe to a youngling and tapped the ornate wooden railing next to him. Aryana carefully approached, earning a small chuckle from the helmsman who flashed her a warm smile as well.

“Still getting used to the sea, lassie?” The captain’s gruff voice rumbled with the waves.

Aryana nodded.

“Heh, well let me tell you something. If ye nervous bout the crew don’t be, the lads are a bit gruff aye, but they’ll be as gentle as can be while we’ve guests on board.”

Aryana gave a nervous smile, not quite sure if she believed his words. At that, the captain chuckled and opened his arms towards the waves beyond the boat.

“But if ye are nervous, then just gaze upon the majesty of the world around us. Take stock in these sights and know that whatever fears ye might have, to those mountains, or that wave, nothing matters. Life carries on whether we worry or not, so why strain ye mind?” The captain declared proudly.

Aryana sucked in a deep breath, her eyes taking stock of the landscape the captain gestured at. Indeed, from where they were the Frostwinds were long gone, replaced by different tall mountains stretching as far as the eye can see, only the faintest slivers of land even in sight. Nothing more than dark lines that underlined the mountains. The sea itself was relatively calm, the deep oceanic blue reminding her a little of the elf’s strange eyes. The sun gently brushed her skin as the sea breeze kissed her nervous mind, steadying her troubled soul. In spite of her reservations, she felt the onset of a genuine smile of wonder.

The captain’s chuckle startled her, but the question on the tip of her tongue still broke through her defences, “Um…so what are they called?”

“What are what called?”

“The mountains. What are they called?”

“Ahh! That’s the Highwall Mountains, truly looks like a wall from here doesn’t it?” The captain clapped his hands together.

“Uhn.”

“Nowadays they surround Carrador like a fortress, but legend has it that the mountains were created unnaturally to hide the deadly experiments of the Myndiri.”

“Unnaturally created? But what about the mountain spirits? And experiments? Also what’s a Myndiri?” Aryana asked, her curiosity piqued.

The captain raised an eyebrow at her barrage before sharing a look with the helmsman and letting out a soft chuckle, “One question at a time, lass.”

“Sorry.” Aryana shrank back, embarrassed at herself.

“Hah! Well mannered too, isn’t she?” The helmsman quipped.

“Aye, a sore respite from you buggers. But don’t worry lass, I don’t mean it in a bad way, heh. It’s just I’m not exactly young so it takes me a moment.” The captain sniggered to himself.

“Going senile, old man?” The helmsman pressed.

“Not soon enough.”

The two shared a laugh before the captain pointed at the mountains once more.

“Legends say that the Myndiri, that is the ancient elves, used powerful forbidden magics to bring forth the very earth itself to build themselves a secluded haven for themselves. As for the experiments? That’s mostly a myth or legend, but if you’re asking me? The amount of beasties and critters roaming around the land that can be called a proper monster is far too high. And I’m not saying that they were all created, but let’s just say I believe more than likely a few of those monsters didn’t just evolve from nothing.” The captain rambled.

Though slightly lost, Aryana was enraptured by more knowledge of the world and couldn’t help herself. “Umm, forbidden magics? Monsters? Are there many such things on land? What about here at sea?”

“Hah! Lass you were at Melisgrad right?” He asked in a jovial tone, but Aryana could see his expression darken for an instant.

A nod.

“Then whatever that nonsense was, what with the city dying and all, that’s what I’m taking about. Forbidden magics and with good reason.” The captain’s voice dropped and Aryana couldn’t help but shudder in agreement. “As for the monsters, I’m not sure what you would see up in the mountains considering it’s cold enough to freeze my bollocks off, but aye, in the forests and wilderness? More than enough bloody monsters stalk the lands, far too many to be natural. And at sea?” The captain paused, his eyes growing slightly more mournful as he cast his gaze over the endless blue. “Aye, there are plenty.”

Although there was a profound silence, Aryana could only bite her lip for so long and prodded some more. “Like what?”

At that the captain and helmsman shared raised brows before turning to her. “You…you are from the Frostwind’s yes? Don’t wanna presume just cause of your hair and skin.”

She nodded, her head tilted in expectation of a question.

“Have you…have you ever been anywhere besides the Frostwinds? I only ask because you seem plenty eager to learn, even if you are a little shy.” He chuckled alongside the helmsman.

“Yes…err I mean aye? I-I haven’t really seen much and they…umm that is the others let me tag along on their adventure.” She stammered out.

“Oh? An adventure? And truly? You haven’t seen the world much?” The captain asked, an air of incredulousness in his voice.

“Truly.” She replied.

He stroked his beard for a moment before wrapping her with a meaty arm, drawing her in like a conspiratorial plotter. “Would ye like to learn about the world a tad then? I’ve stories a plenty and tales even more so.” He whispered with a cheeky grin.

Aryana only considered the offer for a moment before shyly sticking her thumb up, “Yes-I mean aye!” She replied, slightly excited.

“Oh no, you’ve done it now.” The helmsman groaned from the wheel, earning a lighthearted tsk from the captain.

“The lass is curious, is all. A good head on her shoulders too unlike you ingrates.” He hissed.

“Sure, old man, whatever you say.” The helmsman tutted.

The captain waved the helmsman away and grabbed Aryana’s shoulder, pointing out towards the endless expanse of blue.

“Since ye value my time unlike these oafs-”

“In your dreams.” The helmsman chipped in.

“Ahem, since ye value my time, let me tell ye first about the merman of the deeps and their vicious raids. Then perhaps about the great kraken that haunts the graveyard of ships. There are also a great number of ghost ships and treasure arks that seem to phase in and out of existence. Ohhh perhaps ye would like to hear of the sirens and trogs and how they chase down ships lost at sea! Or perhaps a tale of the bloodthirsty pirates of the Isle of Dusk? The isles themselves are another good topic as are the legendary tales of Captain Dreadeye or Admiral Spiers-” The captain excitedly began before her voice joined in.

“All of them. I want to know about all of them.” Aryana excitedly bobbed her head.

The captain lit up with a dangerous twinkle in his eye whilst the helmsman could only groan with further despair. Aryana however, had her ears poised and ready to go. She was free, at long last and now on an adventure. She would see the world, learn everything there is to know, taste the different foods long denied to her. Perhaps she would even come to be called as a true friend to those she traveled with, or maybe even make allies. For now she was just eager to learn, and as the captain began his recounting of his tales, she offered a small prayer to the spirits above.

Thank you for the chance you’ve granted me. Now please give Sophie hers too and wake her up. Umm keep everyone safe, and let them become my friends and ummm, may Arteria treat us with kindness that the tribes have not. Umm that is all, thank you for your blessings, Tagh a shan.

With her prayer done she listened intently to the captain, following his hands even as he pointed at the nothingness of the waves. She felt a sense of excitement bubble up within her, a feeling she had long since thought missing. She only hoped she could share it with the others, but knew that they dealt with their own struggles. Still, turning a cheeky glance back down the deck she spied Annalise and Taurox bantering with the sailors, Mila had emerged on deck to vomit off the starboard side much to the amusement of the nearby crew. Sophie was still recovering below, and though that was a black mark on a happy day, Aryana still smiled. Everything feels right, even Vulen, the singer of trees, had said she would heal and I believe him, I wonder how she would feel about everything? But they seem like a nice bunch, and they’re taking me on an adventure, a journey! How exciting!

As the ship gently crested the waves, the golden rays of sunshine basked the deck with a warm glow, the creaks and groans of the wood, and the comforting sounds of the rhythmic waves were interspersed by the excited ramblings of the captain. It was here she knew she was ready, ready for whatever that lay ahead, for the journey that awaited them all.