Chapter One: A Rustle in the Forest

With the sun setting the wind chill was beginning to grow and Cyrus's scholar's cloak barely shielded him from the winter-bitten winds and the leaves that casually settled in his hair. Ruffling his cloak he managed to get some leaves unstuck from between his shirt and the onyx fabric, them flowing down and gently teasing the tip of his boots. Cyrus gazed around to find nothing but trees, their leaves turning a subtle shade of orange with the changing season, and wondered how he had managed to leave Altsdam with such haste that he had forgotten to bring a proper coat with him, or even a small bag of belongings. The only thing he had to his name, now, were the clothes on his back, the staff at his side with the moonstone setting at the top, a small tome for leisure reading, and his leather-bound journal with notes sprawling from the corners.

How has it come to this, again? He asked himself, kicking a rock gently under his heel. Did I not learn this lesson before? For a royal scholar I really am such an idiot at times.

Having been walking for hours he stopped for a moment and turned, still seeing the sprawling, mountainous walls of Altsdam that sprawled across the horizon. He had gotten a good distance away but between drawing small animals he found along the way and fighting random monsters that decided he looked like delectable lunch, he hadn't gotten far enough for his liking. Night was soon to fall and he wanted to make sure he had a safe haven to lay before it became too dark to see - he was not keen on using his fire magic to see in a forest full of drying leaves. Walking from the path he crept under tree branches and low-hanging ivies that tickled his cheek as he walked by. He couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of the first time a woman had brushed his cheek like that, trying to make an advance and all he had replied was "do I seem feverish?"

He was dense. He knew this, and yet he could not find a way to fix it. With age had come a certain maturity, wherein he found he could understand brazen situations when someone was making an advance on him - but for the most part he was as oblivious as always to the subtle blush of a woman's cheek when he remarked on her beauty, or the way a giggle could be an intention of romance instead of the earnest finding of humor in his observations. He was dense - and his problems had always stemmed from this character flaw. But how was he to know that his student would forsake him in the name of jealousy? How was he supposed to know that the girl he was trying to turn into a royal scholar would spread such a devious lie?

Grabbing some dried timber from the ground he couldn't help but sigh. His eyebrows knitted together and he stepped over a large log, his heel shifting uncomfortably in the grass and dirt. Seeing a large rock-wall in nature he set the sticks a couple feet in front and began to arrange them in the fashion of an inverted cone, setting some dried leaves around the base. He decided that this would be the best place to sleep for the night - he would make it to Noblecourt within a couple of days, and he was positive that there would be a couple of cottages on the way there to spend a night or so in exchange for some manual labor. Despite being a scholar he was rather strong, able to lift an axe over his head and bring it down with momentum, to pull a cart behind him, to harvest crops with his hands. Due to this his physique often attained the interested glances of noblewomen in the castle as he would walk. He would often genuinely not notice but there would be the rare occasion of such brazen openness of a noblewoman's desire of him that he would have to evade the noble lady and walk briskly to the royal large golden-tinted room where he would teach Princess Mary and her noble friend, Therese.

Therese, the reason he was in this predicament in the first place. Or rather, he viewed it as his fault for not giving her enough of his time.

What would have happened if I had denied the allowance of Therese in my classroom in the first place? She was only there because Princess Mary's good heart wished her to have a friend with her in the classroom. Someone to study and discuss the more interesting topics of the lectures with. Even so, he reluctantly thought, I am glad that she was my student - she is such a bright girl when she applies herself. Knowledge is to be shared, after all. I was really hoping for Therese to become an amazing royal tutor.

Using his shinbone with force, Cyrus sapped a large, thick twig in the middle for the base of the fire. Balancing them over one another like an "X" he finally sighed and sat down. Putting his hands to the sticks and exerting very little force he conjured up a fire that began to eat the kindling and kiss the sticks, growing strong in a moment. He chuckled and leaned back against the rock wall, staring into the fire with a sense of satisfaction. "Oh flames, rage strong."

Pulling out a tome from his inner-cloak pocket Cyrus crossed one leg over the other knee and began to read, his eyes just glazing over the words as he kept going over the events of the day over-and-over again.

It had started off normally enough with him starting his day in his small apartment on the east-side of Altsdam, dressing, tying up his hair, and grabbing his tomes before heading to teach Princess Mary and Therese in the royal palace. That had been normal. Class had gone smoothly. His brows furrowed, trying to find the breaking-point where everything had changed.

Princess Mary stopped him to ask a question. When that was done he went to walk outside and he had spotted Therese around a staircase, but when he tried to engage her she had run off - her long white skirts billowing her behind her like a ship taking off from port with ferocious winds.

Cyrus' eyes grew wider and his breathing shallowed - that was it. The moment when Therese had felt that Cyrus did not spend enough time on her. It all made sense. She had wanted to ask a question and had run out of time waiting for him due to a prior engagement - so she blamed him and Princess Mary for not allowing her to assuage her curiosity.

The poor girl. Driven by the need for knowledge and the impatience of youth to lash out at a mentor who was unable to give her the answers she sought. No wonder she spread a rumor to the dean that Princess Mary and I had …. Engaged in…

Cyrus felt his face heat up and disengaged the thought. Moving hand up to his collar he released the gem that held the collar of his shirt closed and let it open up slightly. He could not imagine doing such a carnal act with Princess Mary. He had always respected the girl as a student and had never seen her in such a way. True, he had noticed how beautiful a gold her hair was. True, he had seen the way her dresses accented her figure - especially the ones she wore for tutoring. True, there were times when she stopped him for questions and her lilac-water perfume had caught the air and caused the pace of his heart to quicken. But never had he dared to think of the Princess in anything other than a scholarly light. The only exception was in one little dream he had woken up to as a younger man, bolting upright in bed in shock and devoting himself to his studies in candle-light all night as a firm distraction; but that had been the only time and he was determined to keep it that way. She was to be his sovereign someday, after all, and she deserved a prince. Not some boy who had survived the...

I've never been good with women. Cyrus abruptly changed his course of thought, I know Odette warned me, but I guess I did not take it to heart.

Putting his book down Cyrus let his head fall backwards and gently tap against the rock wall behind him. He was in a real pickle - trapped between a rock and nowhere to go. His only purpose, not, to find the infamous tome From the Far Reaches of Hell and return it to Altsdam. This could restore his reputation. This, alone, could possibly revive his reputation in the Royal Academy. This would return him to his post - perhaps allowing him to spend more time with…

"ROAR!"

Cyrus' head shot up and his eyes widened as he saw a large creature coming from the woods. A saber almost the size of Cyrus himself grasped in all four hands, cutting down the branches and ivy that Cyrus had moved underneath earlier in his haste to reach the human. Putting away his tome Cyrus steadied himself on his feet and stretched his arms out, his throat going dry. Knowing he would have to face the creature he mustered up his bravado and pulled his shoulders back - taking this challenge head-on in style.

"Can't we settle this like gentlemen?" he asked as the creature approached and stopped right before the fire Cyrus had set earlier. Scaling the creature Cyrus was able to see his apprehension from the fire and realized that this would be an ability to use to keep the creature at bay - or to defeat him altogether. The creature slammed the blade on the ground to intimidate Cyrus, but he did not flinch. This would not be the first time he had faced such a being. Cyrus let out a primal yell and put his hands outstretched, "Flames! Forth!" he yelled as the small fire blazed out of control and flew towards the menace.

Screaming, the creature jumped out of the way, his foot catching the brunt of the flames. Trying to land on his feet the creature screeched and fell into the leaves, glaring at Cyrus. The mage continued to stand and observe the creature, hoping that he would crawl away and chose to live. But, that was not in the creature's creed.

Throwing a saber toward Cyrus unexpectedly he jumped out of the way to the side and hit the leaves, the creature jumping up with the other blades and towering over Cyrus, arms outstretched.

This is it! Cyrus flinched, his eyes shutting.

The wind carried the jingle of thin metal tapping together - and the faint smell of dark red roses to carry on the wind. Cyrus' eyes opened and he saw the creature slamming down onto the forest floor shrouded in shreds of darkness that were evaporating off into the wind. Following his eyes behind the creature his eyes landed on a pair of thin brown sandals adorned with small golden coins draped in the back by a long red-tulle skirt. Hip bones, somewhat exposed and caressed by golden coins that hung from a red belt at the wearer's hips.

Finally, his eyes fell onto hers. Her gentle green eyes gazing down at him in worry as her chocolate brown hair caught the wind. He could detect the faint appearance of blush at her cheeks, from what Cyrus determined to be exertion or the air chill.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly and he inhaled. Fully looking her in the face now he found there was a lump in his throat when he tried to respond. He couldn't help himself but to acknowledge.

She is the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen...