Interlude 01 – The Princess and the Kind-faced Man

Zaevi - A few weeks before

They came for them just about as the trio of Krimnids were about to put out the campfire and go to sleep. As descendants of Fire dragons, the group was quite fond of staying warm, so resting by a fire was a common behaviour for them even during Summer. The heat was especially pleasant here at the border between Denyr and Halnyie on the northern ass-end of the Old Empire. This time, however, it would prove to be their undoing.

Ferran, her senior bodyguard, was stopped mid-sentence by a crossbow bolt piercing his neck. Jerhek managed to get up before a series of shots rang out. Three bullets impacted the crimson-skinned man in his chest, staggering him straight into the still-burning campfire. Instinctively, Zaevi moved to save him, but then six men in blue armour and red demon masks emerged from the forest and tackled her to the ground, tied her arms and legs and then dragged her away from her still screaming bodyguard.

She tried to scream and protest, too, but a backhand, strong enough to crack a few of her sharp teeth, from one of the thugs silenced her.

‘QUIET, LIZARD WHORE!’ the brute yelled to punctuate his strike.

And so, to the accompaniment of Jerhek’s screams of agony, they began to drag her away. She tried to struggle some more, but a kick to her stomach ended that, too.

‘Careful, Jyr,’ one of them cautioned the brute who assaulted her. ‘The boss said we are not to damage her too much. It will be much easier to get her sister to cooperate if this one is in good condition.’

Jyr, she glared at the man with her yellow slit-eyes, committing his face to her memory.

The reminder of her royal lineage only earned her a small improvement in her conditions, however. They didn't physically abuse her during their march South, sure, but she was kept tied up, the rope painfully chaffing against the patches of black scales on her skin, and carefully watched at all times and afforded no privacy. There was someone with her at all times, including the most private ones. At first, she tried to hold it in as long as possible, but after pissing herself and not having anything to change into, she relented and allowed herself to be watched. It was better than walking soaked in her own urine.

Zaevi’s initial defiance was also proving very unwise, as she felt infection develop from her lack of hygiene and poor nutrition, and with each day, she got sicker and sicker. Her captors initially showed indifference to her plight; however, they started to get worried when, on the seventh day of Zaevi's captivity, the fever robbed the girl of the last of her strength.

She could hear her captors arguing about what to do about her, but she was too weak to pay attention. Not that it mattered. Zaevi knew that it likely wouldn't take more than a day or two before she joined her parents in the great beyond. Perhaps her brother, too, if the talk she overheard from the bandits was true. The only thing she regretted was not being able to help her sister with the succession crisis, but Fenya was smart; she would probably know how to handle the mess.

Still… I failed her.

‘Hello there, my friends,’ a strong, slightly hoarse voice suddenly came from the direction of the forest. ‘It would appear that the young lady there is in need of medical assistance.’

‘And what business of yours is this, old man?’ Jyr shouted back.

‘Merely offering my aid. I can point you to the nearest healer, or, since the girl doesn't look to be willingly in your company, take her there myself.’

‘She is just a friend of ours,’ Yehg, the group's apparent leader, shouted back.

‘Given that the girl is all tied up, I find that highly unlikely. None of you looks like men serving the lord of the land either, so I have to assume you have no legal right to hold her and thus have either kidnapped her, or worse, plan to enslave her. Something that has been outlawed by Emperor Urbiz Vander in 274 IC.’

‘Thank you for the history lesson, grandpa, but now fuck off before we kill you. Last chance.’

‘Well… I tried the easy way.’

There was a whoosh of flames next to her, followed by a powerful gust of wind and then screams mixed with clashes of metal on metal. Then there was a flash of green, and she knew no more.

Zaevi woke up lying in an unfamiliar bed in a room she didn't recognise.

Where am I? she thought and looked around, immediately seeing that the walls of the room were covered in shelves containing jars of various ingredients.

Next to her bed, there was a small dresser with two empty bottles. A well-built elderly man dressed in a white shirt and black suit pants was sitting on a chair beside it, reading a book. He appeared to be in his early sixties, with a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and neatly-combed neck-long hair.

He reminded Zaevi of her grandfather - there was the same kindness visible on his slightly wrinkled face, though his warm brown eyes were filled with sorrow.

The man must have noticed she was looking at him, as he closed the book and gave her a warm smile.

‘Welcome back among the living, miss,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’

That was a very good question. She actually felt… fine.

‘Surprisingly good,’ she told the man as such. ‘I thought I wouldn't make it, but I guess I was wrong.’

The man’s smile disappeared, replaced by a worried frown.’

‘You almost didn't,’ he said calmly. ‘You had seps… blood poisoning. I brought you here at the last moment.’

‘Oh,’ Zaevi replied in the only way that came to her.

The man pointed to the empty bottles on the dresser and explained that the healer had to resort to using potions to cure her.

Zaevi's stomach sank at that. Healing potions were cheap enough, but those of Cure Disease? They cost a fortune. Even her palace medics didn't have more than a few of those in stock.

‘S-sir,’ she started to say. ‘I am afraid I don’t have enough mon…’

‘Don’t worry about that, miss,’ the man interrupted her with an encouraging smile. ‘Both came from my own stash, and I won't charge you a divine for them. Letting someone, particularly one so young, die because of their kidnappers' mistreatment would not be something I could forgive myself for doing.’

‘Th-thank you, sir…’

‘My name is Nevahl. And no thanks are necessary, miss…’

‘Zaevi.’

‘Nice to meet you, Zaevi. Now, if you don't mind me asking, what brings you this far from Mavigan? As far as I understand, you Krimnids aren't that fond of the climate this far North.’

‘I’m looking for someone,’ she explained. ‘He went missing while on a trip to Andermon. I heard that there are powerful adventurers in Ror-Bhyk, so maybe they could help.’

‘The Witch Queen and her friends, eh?’ Nevahl leaned back in his chair. ‘You know, if you want company, I am heading there too. Word has reached me that two of my sons were killed there, and I guess I am seeking closure.’

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Zaevi lowered her gaze. ‘I will be glad for the company, though. I was travelling with two of my friends, but the Red Masks killed them when they abducted me.’

Something struck her then.

‘How did you kill them?’ she asked.

‘I am a travelling scholar,’ Nevahl smiled. ‘That required me to pick up some self-defence skills.’

He reached for a cane that was propped against the dresser and showed her that it hid a sword with a crystal orb with a greenish three-sided pyramid suspended inside serving as its pommel.

It still didn't explain how Nevalh managed to defeat a group that large on his own, but Zaevi figured the man was entitled to his secrets.

It took Zaevi three more days to recover, and after that, it was time to resume their journey to Ror-Bhyk.

Stay strong, Fenya. I’ll get us help.