Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Jaegar reappeared in a dimly lit grove, the chill of the night brushing against his skin. He took a moment to orient himself, his eyes scanning the surrounding farmland. Angelina's farmhouse was nestled further ahead, its silhouette faint against the pale light of the moon.

His footsteps were swift yet silent as he approached the building. The air carried an unnatural stillness, the usual nocturnal sounds conspicuously absent.

Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones.

Jaegar pushed open the door to the farmhouse, the hinges creaking softly.

Inside, the room was dark, save for the faint glow of a single lamp on the table. Eradarin stood there, his face tense and shadowed, his tall frame exuding an air of urgency. His robes were slightly dishevelled, and his eyes darted toward Jaegar the moment he entered.

"You're here," Eradarin said, his voice steady but grave.

"Where's Master?" Jaegar demanded, his tone clipped.

Eradarin hesitated for a moment before responding. "Gone. Taken."

Jaegar's eyes narrowed his expression hardening. "Who?"

"We don't know yet," Eradarin admitted, frustration creeping into his voice.

Jaegar clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Start from the beginning. What happened?"

Eradarin nodded, taking a deep breath before explaining. "There were two people stronger than me. And she being at her weaker self now didn't help much. And she was taken."

"She wouldn't have gone willingly," Jaegar said firmly. "Not without a fight."

Eradarin's expression turned grim. "That's what worries me. Whoever did this didn't need to fight her. They simply… took her."

Jaegar fell silent, his mind piecing together the fragments of information. The precision of the attacks, the absence of any trace—it all pointed to a power far beyond the ordinary.

"We need to act," Eradarin said, his voice cutting through Jaegar's thoughts. "If they've taken Angelina, we can't afford to wait."

Jaegar's gaze was steely as he met Eradarin's eyes. "Then let's find out who they are… and what they want."

-

The Kingdom of Zivaria

Far from the sprawling lands of the Empire, in the heart of the Holy Kingdom of Zivaria, the royal palace was a whirlwind of chaos.

The disappearance of Princess Elisabeth, beloved by her people and the linchpin of several diplomatic ties, had sent the entire kingdom into turmoil. The palace guards, clad in silver armour etched with the kingdom's sigil, moved in frantic precision. Courtiers whispered in hushed tones, their faces pale with worry. The temple bells tolled solemnly, echoing through the city, a call to prayer and hope in the face of uncertainty.

The streets outside the palace were no less chaotic. Citizens gathered in clusters, their voices blending into a chorus of fear and speculation. Markets were deserted, and inns brimmed with gossip of what could have happened.

-

Miles away, outside the borders of Zivaria, a small group moved with purpose.

Two men carried a young woman, unconscious and draped in a cloak. Her delicate features, framed by white hair, marked her unmistakably as royalty—Princess Anashyssa herself.

The men, Ranalf and Tompkin, were dressed in dark cloaks, their faces partially obscured by hoods. Their movements were careful but swift, a sense of urgency driving them forward.

Ahead of them, a figure waited.

A woman stood in the shadows of a dense forest, her posture confident, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword.

Mara, as she was known, had the air of a seasoned warrior. Her sharp features and piercing eyes carried an intensity that would make most hesitate to cross her.

Beside her, two figures loomed in the dim light.

One of them leaned casually against a tree, his tall, seven-foot frame impossible to ignore. His skin, a deep crimson red, glistened faintly under the moonlight, as though perpetually touched by blood. His features were sharp, almost human, but there was an otherworldly edge to his appearance.

He was a Faesapien, a rare and enigmatic race that was said to be both ancient and powerful. Despite his imposing size, his demeanour was calm, almost detached. His eyes, now open, glowed faintly as they watched the approaching trio.

Beside him stood another figure, starkly different but equally striking. Norimar, a half-orc, towered slightly shorter than the Faesapien but carried an intimidating presence of his own. His greenish-grey skin and the ridges of his forehead gave away his orcish heritage, but his attire—a blend of human craftsmanship and tribal adornments—spoke of a man who walked between two worlds. His muscular arms were crossed, and his tusked mouth held a neutral expression.

As Ranalf and Tompkin approached with their precious cargo, the Faesapien shifted his stance slightly, his glowing eyes locking onto the princess. His expression was inscrutable, a mix of quiet calculation and faint curiosity.

-

Ranalf and Tompkin stopped a few feet from Mara, who stepped forward to inspect their burden. With a nod of approval, she waved them closer.

"Lay her here," she ordered, her voice low and commanding.

The two men obeyed, setting the unconscious princess gently on the grass.

Mara crouched beside the princess, checking her pulse and inspecting her condition.

Satisfied, she rose and turned to face the Faesapien and Norimar.

"It's done," Mara said, her tone clipped. "She's unharmed, as agreed. Now, we'll take our leave."

Norimar tilted his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You're awfully quick to leave, Mara. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider our offer? We could use someone with your… talents."

Mara's eyes narrowed as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Norimar, we've been over this. I don't take sides. The debt is paid. Don't contact me again."

Norimar raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. "Fair enough. But you can't blame me for trying."

With a curt nod, Mara turned on her heel and gestured for Ranalf and Tompkin to follow.

The three disappeared into the forest, leaving the princess behind.

-

As the sound of their departure faded, Norimar turned to the Lodar, who had remained silent throughout the exchange.