Hans awoke to the sound of swords and shouting.
What the...Grabbing the sword by his side, he shook off any vestiges of fatigue and went towards the sound.
There was still a campfire going, but it was still the dead of night, so Hans had no idea how long he was asleep.
Before he could figure out what happened, there was a figure in front of him. Hans parried several strikes, stepping back into the firelight, hoping to get a good look at the attacker.
He was wearing plainclothes, and wasn't one of the people he met earlier. A soldier with armor would wear it to battle, so was this a brigand? Highwayman?
Whoever he was, he wasn't very good with a sword. Hans dispatched him with a quick stab to his abdomen. Elsa or Anna might have thought it cruel, but this was combat, and it rarely ended without death.
There was still combat nearby. Hans didn't take his hand off his sword, and kept his eyes trained on the sound. Going forward into blackness would have been dangerous.
The sounds got closer, and Hans saw one of the men he met today fall to the ground, knocked prone, his sword flying out of sight. Another, much burlier man stepped into the firelight, and stepped overtop the man for a killing strike.
Hans blocked the man's blade, and, with a roar, the burly man attacked. Right away, Hans knew he was a cut above the man from earlier, and put the Prince quickly on the defensive. Hans tried to dive right, go lower and aim for the legs, but the burly man saw through the tactic, and blocked the attempt, striking Hans with his sword pommel in the wrist. Hans pulled out one of Conrad's daggers with his free hand, trying to get a free hit, but only grazed the man's arm. Not enough to even faze him, much less injure.
The man came forward, swung his blade in a wide arc. When Hans tried to dodge, he stopped in mid-swing to move again. He lost a lot of momentum, but added in accuracy, catching Hans in the shoulder, causing him to drop his sword.
With a frenzied grin, he lunged forward, Hans jumping back to avoid, nearly slipping. He was nowhere near his sword now, and, while he had both of Conrad's daggers, one in his left hand and the other in his belt, he wasn't very good at knife-fighting. His skill with a sword was better, and that wasn't very good.
The man advanced, Hans backed away, nearly slipping with the dew on the grass.
Grass...grass...Hans jumped backward once again, and quickly willed the grass under the man's feet to burn. It erupted into flames at his command.
"Agh!" His clothes and hair caught flame. He still charged forward, but he fell to the ground after that. Once Hans was sure the guy wasn't moving any more, he willed the flames to die down, just like he practiced. He couldn't stop it completely through his will, but the flames were low enough for him to stomp them out beneath his boots.
So, I can make it, make it hotter, and dim it, but I can't put it out. Good to know, he supposed. He walked his way back to the campfire, where he could no longer here the sound of swords. In fact, most of the people were around the fire. One of the men and one of the women were missing, did they fall in battle?
"Is everyone all right?" Hans couldn't find the sword in the darkness, he'd have to get it again at night.
"Witchcraft!" One of the women shouted at him, gasping and pointing at him.
"He has sorcery!"
"We were rescued by a witch!" The shouts got louder from the crowd. Then, the men in the crowd, swords still in hand, came towards him, as much fury and fear in their eyes as the burly man from earlier.
"Get back!" He ordered.
"The Southern Isles suffers no sorcery! A Prince with magic is treason!" They weren't listening.
Not officially. The Southern Isles had no policy against magic other than using any weapon against the nation, supernatural or otherwise, was treason. But the Witch of Dark Flames cast a shadowy legacy, and, as the successor, it fell to him.
"Get him! He can't get us all at once!" They advanced on him. As far as Hans knew, he could only create fire where he moved his hands, and there were more people than he had hands. And they were advancing fast. As Hans backed towards the woods, his footing got more uneven.
"I said get back!" Hans created a cone of flame in front of him. Just to scare them. For a second, he could hear nothing but the roar of the flames. Then, he felt something in his arm. Hans looked down to see it was a military dagger, a soldiers standard back-up weapon.
"Kill him!" More shouts. Hans could use his magic more, and immolate them all. But tales of supernatural forest fires would only bring others to investigate. Natan, surely, would be interested in tales of a sorcerer. And Hans didn't think he'd fare any better against his bloodthirsty older brother.
Better that these people tell an unbelievable tale than their deaths arousing suspicion. With the fire as cover, Hans fled into the night.
"He's getting away, get him!" They weren't letting up. Just scant hours ago, they hailed him as a hero. Now, he was but a stain on the kingdom. How...oddly familiar.
Hans continued to run through the woods, but with the moon blocked by the canopy of trees, it was very hard to see where he was going. But he was being chased, he had to keep moving.
So he had no idea what was going on when an escarpment produced a drop-off, causing Hans to plummet off a cliffside. Trees were breaking his fall, but his body thudded and ached as the branches snapped.
He finally stopped when he hit the ground. He could taste blood in his mouth, but it didn't hurt to breathe. That was a good sign. Well, better than the other signs, he could barely move his arms.
There were footsteps nearby. An animal? Hans tried to turn to face it, but couldn't move to see. He could only feel the footsteps moving closer as the darkness overtook him.
It was still dark when Anna reached the walled town. Hyensignor, it was called. It was still nighttime, so it was hard to make out, but it was on the sea like Kipplevost, and Anna could make out the outline of many ships, very similar to the one Alexander brought her on to come here, in the harbor.
She still had some of the money from the sale of the horses, she could find a place to sleep, and try to figure out if Finn would get here tomorrow. She could, she supposed, count the ships, see if there were many soldiers here. And Hans's brothers, from what she saw, all had the same red hair and almost yellow eyes. Not many others had that combination, particularly the eyes.
The inn was easy to find, and, while the innkeeper looked at her inappropriately, he accepted her money and gave her a room. She made sure to secure the door, and lay down in the bed.
Where was Elsa? Hearing she was all right after what happened in Kipplevost, but then there was that battle. Anna didn't any magic, either from Elsa or Hans, during the fight. So where did they disappear off to. That Natan wouldn't have let Elsa go anymore so than Anna, she had to fight for it, and her arm still hurt to prove it.
She lay down in her bed and tried to sleep, but she couldn't. Her mind raced as she recalled stories of what happened after losing battles. The enemy charged and killed the losers.
That couldn't happen to her soldiers, could it? If that man Natan was leading the charge, he'd march straight to Arendelle and do the same thing in Kipplevost to her citizens.
As she lay in bed for what felt like forever, she could finally feel herself drifting to sleep. Just as she did, there was a loud pounding at her door.
"Mistress! There is a fire, you must leave immediately. Quickly!" Anna could hear the voice of the innkeeper on the other side of the wooden doors.
A fire. Could that have been Hans? Or was it just some normal fire. Quickly, Anna dressed and walked towards the door. It wasn't warm, and she didn't see any smoke.
As she opened it, however, she noticed by torchlight in the halls, there were many men, all soldiers, standing in the door. Save two, they were all helmeted. One was the innkeeper, the other had short red hair, and was very tall.
"Hello, your Highness. There is no fire, but I would very much like you to come with me." His voice was level, pleasant, even slightly friendly. But he seized her wrist. He did not cause her any pain, but he held firm as she struggled.
"By the authority vested in me, I, Marcus Westergard, Prince of the Southern Isles, place you under arrest."
Elsa made her way to where the Arendelle soldiers had retreated too, but all she found was an empty camp: Tents were still up, an empty firepit was still smoldering. The army had moved camp now, in the middle of the night? With their horses and everything? It probably would be very easy to find them, it was very hard to hide an entire camp of people and their horses, but not at night.
Hans wasn't expecting this, certainly. Neither was Elsa: What should she do now. She couldn't go to Hyensignor like Hans did, she didn't know the way. He had said that was the closest city also.
She was exhausted, but knew it would probably be a bad idea to sleep here. These tents were abandoned for a reason. She needed a safe place to sleep, where no one would find her.
Wait, those catacombs. Back in Kippelvost. They were underground, so the smoke and fire wouldn't have damaged them, and more importantly, those thieves might have hid out down there. Even if they didn't, it was a place no one would go too normally.
The ruined city was unchanged, it looked like the Southern Isles hadn't sent anyone to bury the bodies. Most of the soldiers had been dealing with the battle.
The catacombs didn't look disturbed, Elsa could see cobwebs lining several corners of the room. She didn't see any of the thieves as she walked her way back to where Katrien had held court. They weren't skulking in the shadows like normal, all Elsa could hear was the scurrying of vermin and the sound of the waterfalls.
Elsa took a deep breath, and stepped on the ground. At once, it turned to ice and created a floor. It spread to the water, creating a sheet. With a deep breath, Elsa created floors, pillars, and a roof of ice. If the thieves, or the soldiers, came back, she'd have some protection with her walls.
Plus, the sight of the ice calmed her. She could sleep, and think. Bad decisions, hers and others, were made with rushes to judgment.
