Year 3234, Salcost 2nd

One Thousand Seventy-Eight Years Before Present

The river widens as the forest thins out, and the water moves from a gentle current to a rather fast set of rapids. It splashes up high enough to hit my trousers as I stand several feet away from the edge of the water. My three rescuers have walked several yards away from me as they speak in hushed tones, debating what our next move is going to be.

Looking down into the rapids, I can't help but imagine how cold the water would be if I was fully submerged in it. Most certainly a better fate than how I would have ended up if it wasn't for them over there. Despite the current, I spot fish in the water swimming against it, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do, some jumping and clearing the rocks and the particularly strong currents in certain areas.

Rain has begun to fall in a swift, steady manner. Already soaking me to the bone, yet I have a feeling this is just a prelude of what is to come. Not too far from us is, no doubt a hunting party, and as I stand here staring into the water, they are getting closer.

Turning to look at the three, I say, "We have to ford across if we are heading out of here. Arguing about the best place to do that is only going to get us caught and killed. We ford here, and hope the horses, and us, survive."

"She's right," Meine agrees, "Come on. We might die crossing the river but if we stay here, we will most certainly die."

Without hesitation, I march up to my horse and grab it by the pack strapped around its body. Guiding the beast toward the river, I take a tentative step into the icy waters. The freezing liquid numbs my feet in almost an instant. With each step, the water gets higher and higher until the cold liquid is up to my waist. The current threatens to wash me away, and the fact that the horse is holding strong is the only reason I stay on my feet.

Once I cross over the halfway point, I am quick to scramble up the other bank and sit down onto the solid, wet ground to catch my breath, as I watch the others successfully cross. Standing up, I mount the horse as the others get on theirs. Afraid that we have given up too much time as it is, the four of us gallop towards the imposing Dunkerwald on the horizon.

An ancient forest that was once home to a vicious tribe of trolls that were driven out generations ago, now it is more than likely home to bandits, mercenaries, and miscreants, than to monsters. It is the quickest, most direct route, even if it can be potentially dangerous. Though, not even close to as dangerous as trying to go around the slower way.

The sun is long gone by the time we come upon a copse of trees with an abandoned hunter's cabin; one that hasn't seen use in my lifetime, it appears. Rotting tools are lying around the outside of the building, moss covers the north side, and a giant spider web covers the front door. Inside is covered in dust with the only footprints being small raccoons and other types of vermin, no sign of anything larger. A fireplace sits against the far wall, and the furniture has decayed away to a mess of leather, nails, and straw. Whatever was here is long gone, now the only remains are covered in moss, bugs, and dust.

"Well at least it seems like no one comes through here," The bodyguard, Sten, mentions. The first words I hear come out of his mouth.

The woman closes the door behind us and bars it with a piece of wood that has stood up to the tests of time. "We must get comfortable and rest. They won't find us tonight as long as we don't use the fireplace."

"Agreed, one of us will always be on watch. I'll take first," Meine offers.

I walk over by the old fireplace and sit cross-legged upon the floor. Pulling out my scrolls from my satchel, I am astonished to find that every single piece of parchment is still in good condition. Not even moist, like everything else inside of the bag. A part of me wonders how they didn't get soaked through, but another side of me just doesn't care enough to ask.

Pulling out the quill and the scroll I was working on a couple nights ago, I begin writing down all the events that have happened to me thus far, and about the group I am with. Each person with me, like an actor on a stage playing their parts, a strict role they must all adhere to. The large, quiet Sten stands beside his Lord, as they both keep watch through the windows. The female fighter sits directly across from me in the small cabin, cutting pieces off some dried trail meat, quietly chewing as her eyes scan the entire room.

"What a shit hole," She comments with a languid stretch of her arms. "My name is Nemira, and I am from the Sisterhood of Loira. Heard of them on this side of the ocean?"

I nod, saying, "Your order tends to stay over there. Only coming here if it is a big job. Not too unusual to hear of your kind here, though. So, are you here for me?"

"Not to kill you. If that was so, I'd slaughtered that entire castle before finding you and ending your existence in one of the many ways I know how. No, no, no I came on orders to make sure you do not die. I am your highly trained, morally ambiguous bodyguard. Though, I was surprised we got in so silently, sneaking isn't my strong suit. Tend to be the type brought in when subtlety isn't needed or even desired."

"Well I hope you succeed in your duties," I say not looking up from my scroll as I speak. "Otherwise, my head will be decorating someone's gate."

"More-than-likely the Duke's head will be decorating the Queen's gate."

The night is quiet and Nemira insists that I skip watch and just rest for the next day's trip through the forest. I protest, but when I lie down, I am sure I will be thankful to be able to sleep without worrying about what torture may await me the following day. Despite the current situation, it is a lot preferable to the alternative.

"Thank you," I say to Nemira after she insists I sleep.

"It is just an extra couple of hours, I can stay up."

"No, I meant for saving me from that man and the torture I was about to be put through," I lean against the old wooden wall. Running a hand through my hair and say, "You know what he was going to do to me?"

She nods but stays silent for a moment. Turning to look outside into the night, I look at the elf and can't help but find her attractive. Sharp jawline that one would think could cut their fingers upon. Delicate features, but the scars from years of work dot her features. An unreadable expression crosses her face as if she is deep in thought.

"Yeah, I have seen that a few times before ending the deserving. You are welcome," She looks over at me before she says, "Aren't you curious why I am here exactly?"

"You said you were my bodyguard."

"Yes, but who put the job out," She says pulling out a green leaf from a pouch and places it between her cheek and gums. After a moment, she sighs and continues, "your god, Jastiv, appealed to the Lady of Death, the Dark Mistress, to keep you safe from the machinations of the court life here."

Pondering the consequences of him asking her for help, I say, "He didn't think I could protect myself?"

"Don't be offended. You are not a killer: you are a performer. I am a weapon. Honed to do only one thing. He knows how bad this is going to end up. I am here to just give a little edge. We all need help sometimes."

Stepping away from the wall I intend to head to my makeshift bed, but she stops me.

"That's not all. You know of the Lyre of Nirnie that the Duke has? We need to get our hands on it. I am aggrieved to say it, Bard, but we will be seeing that man's hospitality again. Soon. Now head off to rest. The morning comes, and we must make haste before the sun is up."

"I can't sleep now," I reply. "When I was grabbed by the Duke's men I didn't think and knocked one down with my mandolin. If I hadn't been stopped, I'd probably have tried to kill him as he wished me to die. So, can I ask you something?"

"How does it feel to kill?" She replies without hesitation.

"Yes, I hope it isn't odd."

"You want to know how it is to be a killer? Most people ask if I feel any guilt. Do I feel remorse? You aren't the first person to ask me something like that, Bard. Despite you never asking," She chews on the leaf slowly, seeming to not want to answer.

After a moment of silence, I say, "I could explain to you how it is to sing in front of a crowd larger than most armies."

"Sounds horrible."

I scoff.

"I am not dead inside, if you are afraid of me just snapping and killing everybody here. Don't."

"Well that isn't it at all actually," I say. "I figured you weren't some uncontrolled beast or some such nonsense. It is just…does it get to you?"

She shrugs, "Do you lose sleep for people like that jailer dying?"

"Never."

"I don't kill those who don't deserve to die. Loira almost never demands the blood of innocents. For the innocent isn't what she wants dead, only the deserving. If I said there wasn't a twinge, that would be a lie, but I take solace that a good amount of the time, I find people who need some type of saving. Rescuing them from some horrible person," She turns her gaze back to the landscape outside. Only streaks of moonlight illuminate the area around them. She says, "Is that a good enough answer?"

"Not really," I reply.

"Well you will have to make peace with the answer."

"I wonder," I begin after a moment, "How many of our heroes, legends, and humans–-as well as elves-–that we tell stories of. I wonder how many of them felt the same as you. That the justification of death was overall good, an evil that is needed."

"Perhaps evil is too far."

"Indeed, perhaps it is, but I meant more that Loira has more of a code of ethics than people give her credit."

The assassin removes the leaf from her cheek, balls it up and tosses it to the side. She spits onto the floor before kicking dust and dirt on top of it.

"Regardless, we provide a needed service. People need to die sometimes," She turns away from me and looks outside. Then she says, "Get some rest."