Lorianthil - Year 1482

22 June 

 Amilié had been traveling east for a little over a week. The fifth day into her journey, she found herself enveloped in a thick green forest that stretched on for miles. Most of the trees were tall and ancient, but the wood did have its fill of seedlings and saplings. In truth, she had expected to happen upon some form of civilization by now, but the forest kept stretching on, and her resources were nearly depleted. Her borrowed mount, Bronsen, had been carrying her weight well enough, but even he was growing tired of the journey with so few stops. 

Amilié considered turning Bronsen back and continuing on foot before she saw an ideal place to rest in the distance. She clopped up to what turned out to be a broken down carriage and stopped. Whoever had been in the carriage seemed to be the victim of something vicious, as told by the dried-up blood along the outside. Amilié dismounted and began to rummage through the wreckage. She found quite the bounty inside, including sacks of goods and pouches of gold.  

“My lucky day,” she said to herself while uncovering a basket of slightly fresh fruit. “Not so lucky for them.” 

Everything that was untouched by blood she hauled in for herself and packed away inside the satchels on Bronsen’s saddle. Just when she finished feeding him a few fruits, she heard the sound of other horses approaching along the road. Startled, she drew her weapons and made out two elves striding toward her on mounts. One of them had a sleek-looking bow trained on her, the other was a swordsman, or rather, a swordswoman. It was a flashing gold insignia that gave the two elves away. 

“Oh, curses,” Amilié sighed. She had almost made it to Tauros without encountering any agents. Almost. 

“Drop your knives,” Rayne ordered. “What are you doing here, dark elf?” 

“That is none of your business,” Amilié said, keeping her guarded stance. “I don’t mean any harm.” 

“Then prove it to me by surrendering. My captain will know what to do with you.” 

Amilié hesitated. She could come quietly, but she would rather not be hung up on some agent’s mantle today.  

“No,” she told him, feeling the blood racing to her head. “I won’t be going with you.” 

Rayne saw her stuffed bags and let out an unnerving chuckle. “Are you the one who’s been causing all this trouble around here? Did you enjoy killing those merchants?” 

“Merchants?” Amilié puzzled, glancing at the carriage she was looting. “You don’t understand, this was here long before I found it.” 

“If you won’t surrender, then you’re guilty as far as I’m concerned. Drop the knives and turn around.” 

“Please don’t do this, I swear to you I haven’t hurt anyone.” 

“Drop them!” 

Amilié hissed at the agents. Already, she hated these people. They were dressed so nicely, with clean-cut leather and boots that ran up to their knees. As if their elite equipment and high-born statuses weren’t enough to make them sneer. 

“You want to arrest me? You’ll have to dodge this first.” She threw one of her daggers at Rayne’s skull, and while he was distracted by it, Amilié took off running. Bronsen became startled by all the action and paced with her, but before Amilié could climb onto the horse’s back and make her escape, one of Rayne’s arrows flew past her head. It shot into the ground at Bronsen’s feet and caused him to run faster. “Wait!” Amilié cried as the horse began to out-run her. Seeing she was out of time, she made a desperate jump for it and landed on her stomach in the long, dried out grass. “Damn it!” she cursed, watching Bronsen run off with the remnants of her supplies.  

The prance of his hooves faded away as he shrunk into the distance. Behind her, the two agents approached on foot. She turned onto her back and saw the tip of Lila’s elvish sword pointing at her.  

“This is your last chance,” Rayne warned, “stand down.”  

With a sigh, Amilié left her remaining weapon on the ground and rose. She kept her back toward Rayne as he pulled out a pair of binding shackles. As she waited to be taken into custody, she noted just how empty and quiet these woods were. The city of Tauros was probably still a good way off. Her plan was simple: knock the agents out and get away before anyone came searching. 

Once Rayne was close enough, she jabbed her elbow into his nose and ducked just as Lila came swinging with her sword. With a quick roll, Amilié retrieved her dagger from the ground and dodged another one of Lila’s incoming attacks. With a hard kick, Amilié broke Lila’s footing and threw off her aim. 

“You little wretch!” Lila cursed as she stumbled backward. Amilié came circling back toward Rayne with the hilt of her dagger pointed outward. “Rayne, watch out!” Lila cried, but by the time Rayne recovered, it was too late. Amilié seized him from behind and twisted him into a headlock.  

“You made a big mistake,” she spat right into his pointy ear, before she knocked him out with the hilt. Rayne collapsed to the ground with a little blood dripping from his nose. 

Lila growled as she went in for another attack, but her foe was all too ready for it. Amilié dodged, catching Lila’s arm in her hand and twisting it. The agent’s whimper satisfied her ears. Then the fight was over for Lila, too, as the dark elf knocked her head against a nearby tree. She let go of Lila with a shove and left her sprawled on the ground with a deep gash in her forehead.  

Amilié panted as she gathered herself. The crimson was just beginning to fade and return her vision to normal. Quickly, she searched through the pockets of the two agents. Among them she found pouches of coins, a detailed, schematic map of Tauros, and a vial of windewil juice. Amilié puzzled at the vial, wondering what it was doing on the person of a city-dwelling Lor elf. As she began to place the vial into her own pocket, she felt the tip of a steel blade against her throat. 

“Don’t move,” a male said from behind her. Amilié couldn’t help it. She craned her head back to get a look at the figure, and saw a man dressed in a black suit of armor. His cuirass was made of hard plating that exposed his tan biceps. His legs and feet were not so impervious. A pair of toughened leather wrist-guards covered his forearms, and a gold agent’s crest was pinned to his left side. He was human by the looks of it, with deep locks of brown hair and dark eyes. His face was, in a word, scary. Etched with a solid jaw and a fearsome demeanor.  

Amilié could practically feel the man’s restless anger, how it seemed to rip through him. “Your footfall is very silent,” she whispered in shock. It had been nearly a decade since someone got the drop on her. Let alone a heavy-set warrior like this one. “I mean no harm.” 

“Is that what you said to them?” Damien growled, gesturing to Lila and Rayne who were unconscious on the ground. 

“I did what I had to.” Her hands were tempted to grab her weapon and stick this man in the neck, but her instincts told her that trying to outplay him would be a fatal action. Whoever this man was, he was much more than an agent.  

“Why are you here?” Damien demanded. “Why shouldn’t I kill you where you stand?” 

Amilié closed her eyes and pulled out the piece of cloth that Cador had given her. Her hands trembled while holding it up. She let the man snatch it from her.  

“I seek an audience with your King,” Amilié answered. “If you give me that, you’ll never see me again. That I can promise.” 

Damien scanned the Hyacinth pattern on the cloth. It was obvious he didn’t trust her, and why would he?  

“Where did you get this?” 

“From an ally. Please, I just need to speak with someone in charge, that’s all I ask.” 

“It’s your lucky day,” the man smirked, driving his blade closer to her throat. “That would be me.” 

Amilié felt her entire being shake as Damien pushed her against a tree. Now pinned, she was completely at a loss. She could taste this man’s bloodlust; she could smell his hate.  

“You’re the captain, I presume?” Her voice quivered.  

“That’s right,” Damien nodded. “And I’m not going to let you anywhere near the King, so if you don’t have any other business here, I suggest you leave.” 

“Why are you being so cruel? You don’t know me.” 

“I know that you’re a monster, and that’s quite enough.”  

Amilié forced herself to meet his eyes. Behind the anger and disdain there was fear, a being fractured by pain and loss. She understood it well enough. Perhaps this captain could be reasoned with once she dispelled his fear. 

Her lips opened to speak. “Back home, people say that Lorianthil is a realm where kindness triumphs. If I were a monster, why would I be seeking this kindness?” 

“You talk about kindness,” Damien clenched his jaw, “and yet you harm my agents!” 

“Your agents were harassing me! They accused me of killing people, and I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t been ravaging your lands or leaving bodies behind, yet your agents made me out to be some criminal! They scared my horse away and tried to arrest me without cause. Is that fair?” 

Damien wavered at her words. He was rather hoping for a good reason to slit this dark elf’s throat, but there was such desperation in her eyes. Her face was soft, and her pale green irises shimmered as if they glowed with their own source of light.  

He cursed to himself. This stranger had given him a reasonable doubt. No physical or verbal evidence marked her as a killer, and taking her life wouldn’t get him any closer to answers.  

“So,” his face twisted, “you’re not the one leaving merchant corpses behind?” 

“No,” she assured him. “I haven’t taken any lives since I came here. Please, I just need some help.” 

“Damn it.” Damien lowered his sword. “Based on that, I can’t arrest you. But have you seen any killers out here? Any questionable characters?” 

“I—I’ve been traveling alone and haven’t seen anyone.” She waited as Damien put his weapon back in its sheath and gave her some breathing room.  

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, “but you shouldn’t linger out here, it’s dangerous for dark elves like you.” 

“I’m actually headed to the city,” Amilié said, taking a step forward. 

“Oh, no, you’re not.” Damien held her at bay. “No dark elf has ever been crazy enough to walk in and demand an audience with the King. I’m giving you this one chance to take your leave, but don’t blow it, because you won’t get another one.” 

Her face turned cold, and she gave him a look that could penetrate.  

“I am going to see the King, and you don’t want to go against me. You might just be my first kill here in Lorianthil.” 

Damien scowled at her, gripped his sword handle. “And you don’t want to throw threats at me,” he warned. “I’ve made a comfortable living killing your kind, so I suggest you take my mercy while you can.” 

“Are all you people so dense?” Her eyes narrowed. “Has it ever occurred to you that I come from an impossible place? My people have to literally fight daily for their survival, and all you do is sit there and let us scrape by?” 

Damien pointed to himself. “Me, personally?” 

“All of you,” she said. “I know I took a risk coming here, but my life has turned upside down. I cannot fight anymore, not without some form of aid. If you understood the chokehold that Baldemar has on us, perhaps you would take the same risk.” 

Damien paused, his eyes shifting as he stared at the dark elf. It was beginning to make sense now, if only a little.  

“Baldemar is...bad news,” he said after a long moment. His head tilted while scanning her black uniform. “Who are you?” 

“I’m a rebel.” 

“What’s your name, I mean?” 

“Amilié.”  

“Amilié.” His chin lifted with the sound of it.  “Your garb tells me you’re from Ëolnir.” 

“I am,” she nodded. “Or was.” 

“When did you defect?” 

“Several days ago. I had my reasons.” 

“I’m sure you did,” he smirked. “Call me Damien.” 

“Just Damien? I thought all you humans had two names. Sometimes three.” 

He bent down to where Lila was and checked the wound on her forehead. “Amilié,” he said, turning, “could you hand me that vial of windewil you took? It should do the trick.” 

“How do you know about windewil?” Amilié asked, giving the vial to him. Damien went to work, pouring a few drops into Lila’s mouth.  

“Well, the scorched lands are riddled with it. Windewil is the only valuable export you dark elves have.” 

“Export? And how did your snobby little kingdom get your hands on it?” 

Damien chuckled, forming a grin. “You really are a touchy one, aren’t you?”  

A few seconds later, Lila’s eyes shot open and she sat up with a start. When she discovered the blood oozing from her forehead, she scowled at Amilié. 

“You,” Lila cursed while getting to her feet, “I should rip your throat out!”  

“Easy, Lila,” Damien calmed, “just take it easy. I want to keep this dark elf alive.” 

Lila turned her scowl onto him. “Of all the people to protect, Damien! I don’t understand.” 

“I’d like to see where this goes. It seems our killer is still out there.” 

“I think we’ve found our killer already,” Lila gestured to Amilié. 

“She says she didn’t do it,” Damien shrugged.  

“And you just believe her?” 

“I think our killer has yellow eyes, not green.” 

Lila folded her arms against her chest. “Are you hearing yourself? You said that we were looking for someone from Ëolnir. We found her looting a cart, the evidence is—” 

“I won’t be argued with,” Damien interrupted. “Look, I know there is little to go on, but I’m certain our suspect is somewhere else. Why don’t you go and join up with Naelen for a while? I’m sure he’s tired of being on his own.” 

Lila frowned at him. “I am not letting this dark elf out of my sight.” 

“Go,” Damien pointed.  

Lila rolled her eyes before setting off. “Sure thing. Captain.”  

When she was gone, Damien went over to Rayne, still lying unconscious, and poured a few drops of windewil into his mouth as well. When Rayne came to, he reacted to the sight of Amilié staring down at him with her shadowy eyes.  

“Whoa!” He rolled to his feet like a cat. His guard was up, but he was not hostile the way Lila had been. He turned to Damien, who was oddly calm given the situation. “Have I missed something?” 

“Rayne,” Damien approached him, “I want you to go back to Tauros. Find Marcas and tell him that there will be a new face walking around.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Rayne hissed. “Do you honestly think that Marcas will let you bring a dark elf past the walls? He could execute her and no one will protest.” 

“Marcas won’t do anything until the King makes a decision. Now go, and be quick about it.” 

Rayne grunted before getting back on his horse and prancing off into the distance.  

When he disappeared, Damien trailed in the opposite direction. Amilié saw him pacing off the dirt path, taking his time about it.  

“Where are you going?” she asked. 

“My horse is over here.” He gestured to a thick of trees. Nestled behind a cover of leaves stood his robust, brown steed. “You said you wanted to see the King, the least I can do is give you a ride.” 

“Are you joking with me? Are you asking as if I have a choice?” 

“Of course you have a choice. You’re not a prisoner, not yet anyway.” 

“I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to gain my blind trust.” 

“You don’t seem blind to me,” he said. “I have no plans to harm you.” 

“Says the man who held his sword at my throat.” She backed away. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take you at your word.” 

“I took you at yours,” he reasoned, spread his hands a little. “Listen to me, Amilié. If you show up at Tauros alone, it would likely end bad for you. I’m not asking you to trust me, I just want to make sure you keep that small head on your shoulders.” 

“Hm, I think I can fare for myself,” she said.  

Then the man showed her a spectacular grin. His face changed from a hostile agent to a charming noble with wealth and privilege.  

“I can take you straight to King Angar,” he promised. “You can make your request quickly, then go on about your life, assuming you’ll survive to have it.” 

“Who are you again?” she asked, her eyebrows folding on themselves.  

“I’m Damien. Captain of Intelligence, High Diplomat of the Southern Realm. You have any titles?” 

“No.” Then she groaned, hating the idea of accepting help from a high-born diplomat. “If you can take me there quickly, then I’ll venture it. Just don’t betray me.” 

“Betray you?” he laughed, mounting his horse. “I’ll grant that you have an interesting perspective, Amilié with no title.” He reached out his arm, but she hesitated. She made sure she had gathered everything: her weapons, her satchel, her pride. Then she squeezed into Damien’s saddle and let him set off into a trot. She took a moment to look back at this Captain Damien, noticing the dark stubble along his chin and jaw.  

“You’re so suddenly willing to help me.” She didn’t trust it, not completely. “I don’t understand your reasons.” She waited for a reply as he sped his horse into a gallop. The trees became a blur that scraped along both sides of the road.  

“If you’re seriously defecting against Baldemar, you’re going to need all the help you can find.”