Amy Seacrest stared out into the water, lost in thought. This is where she usually came to think, at the edge of a pond near her house, because she felt most comfortable around water. Her shoulder-length blue hair gently moved around with the wind's currents, and ripples started to form in the mirror-like surface of the pond. The villagers were shocked when news spread about her hair colour. Some considered it a blessing; others, a curse. 'The only curse on it,' Amy had replied once, 'is that nobody will stop talking about it.'
For months now, she had been on her own. Bandits passing through had decided to pillage a few homes before moving on, and hers was one of them. Amy wasn't sure why she was spared and her parents weren't; what she did know, however, was that she was alone. She was able to keep her parents house, and earned a living doing odd jobs for the rest of the villagers. Whether out of pity or just inherent kindness, the villagers paid her well for the most menial and simple tasks-- so well, in fact, that Amy started to regret taking such a large fee without really deserving it. But such was life in the village of Esanti: Do a good job, get a good reward.
Trouble seemed to be brewing far away, Amy thought. She didn't know why she thought it, but she was almost absolutely certain it was the truth. And not even a remote place like Esanti would be spared from its influence.
---
Amy watched the kettle boil for tea, one cup before bed as always. It was a calming influence, one to flatten out any emotion she had leftover from the day that would prevent her from getting a good night's sleep. When the familiar whistling noise filled the air, she took the hot object off of the fire carefully, and poured some in a light blue cup, one of only three she owned. Everything else had been broken or stolen when the bandits attacked, and since she didn't entertain much-- and when she did, it was only one or two people at a time-- she never bothered to replace the rest of the set of seven.
She was about to put the tea in when she heard shouting in the distance. She dropped the spoon she was holding and it clattered to the table. Her first thought was Have the bandits returned?
She used the water from the kettle to put out the fire and drew the curtains shut, and cautiously peered out. A man was running, a short sword in its scabbard at his side, but he had no intention of drawing it. Obvious fear was in his expression. I have to help this man. Amy thought, although she didn't know why.
"Sir!" Amy called, trying to draw no attention to herself but his.
The man stopped and looked around for the source of the sound. "Sir!" She called again, and he made no hesitation in running towards her house, as the shouts of his persuers were getting louder. Amy opened the door, and the man ran in. "You must hide," she said. "There is a passageway to the attic in the bedroom, above the small dresser near the door. It is the only way up, and nobody knows it exists but me. Go!" She whispered, and the man nodded in thanks before heading out of the room.
"Search everywhere! He can't have gotten far!" Someone said from outside, and then quick footsteps going in multiple directions could be heard.
There was a knock at her door, and Amy jumped. "Open the door! On order of the Duke!"
The Duke? This man is in more trouble than I thought. Amy went to open the door. "Hello, sir, what brings you to my humble home at this hour?"
"We have seen a fugitive running through his village, by the name of Raphael Sorel. He is wanted for treason against the Nobles."
I'm sorry, good sir, but I have not seen any man. I have only heard your soldiers' shouts."
"Then you wouldn't mind me looking around?"
Amy, her heart beating quickly in fear, stepped back to let the man in. "Of course."
"Thank you."
"Anything to help."
The man looked everywhere a man like Raphael could have hidden. "This house is barely furnished." He noted. "Where are your parents?"
"They died months ago, during an attack by bandits. I live alone now, and do not entertain much, so I have not really needed to replace anything that was stolen."
"I see. My condolences."
"Thank you."
"I am sorry for bothering you at this hour, it is apparent the traitor isn't here." The man said, making his way back to the door.
"It is alright. May you have luck with finding him." Amy said as the soldier walked out and closed the door behind him.
"Anything?" Someone said from outside.
"Nothing, sir. No trace of him." Another replied.
"It seems he's escaped our grasp again. Onwards, he can't have gotten far with his injuries."
Injuries? Oh, no... Amy ran to the hatch that led to the attic, opened it, and climbed up. There he saw Raphael lying on his back, his formal attire slashed on the right side. "So your name is Raphael." Amy said quietly.
"Yes." Raphael replied. "Do not believe those fools, it is them who has committed treason against my family. I foiled an assassination attempt by another house against my father, and now they want revenge against me."
"How dreadful!"
"It is of no difference now. I am injured... and poisoned, due to their trechery in the last battle I fought against them. The wound is superficial, but the poison will kill me."
Amy's eyes went wide. "Is there nothing to be done?"
"There is one thing. A flower, blood red with white thorns. It is called Phoenixes' Tail, and is the only antidote to their swords' poison. But I have not seen any--"
"I know where some grows!" Amy interrupted, as she remembered a patch of the peculiar plant growing near where she sat by the pond. "I shall return, Raphael. Hold on to your life." And with that, she left.
Down, out of her house, and then at full sprint to the pond, and she found the flowers. he grabbed four or five plants, pricking herself several times, but she didn't care as long as she was in time to save Raphael. She ran back to her house, and back up to the attic where he was. "I'm here." She announced. "What do you need done to these plants?"
"Nothing, just give them to me." Raphael replied, and Amy gave him the plants.
Raphael set the flowers down beside him, and broke off a thorn, then jabbed it into his wound, hissing in pain. "It is the only way to counteract the poison." He explained. "The thorns have one kind of medicine in them, the petals another." He broke another thorn off, and again stabbed himself with it.
"Is there anything else you need?" Amy asked.
Raphael's voice grew weak. "Just... rest until the morning. A side... effect of the medicine is that one falls... asleep..."
"Then come, quickly, down to my bed, where you will be more comfortable... Raphael?"
He was already asleep.
---
Raphael awoke feeling much better, but still not completely healed. He sat up and took the thorns out of his side, which had turned purple, and then removed the petals and held them to the reopened wound until the blood made them stick. The girl... she saved me. Raphael thought, as the memories of the previous night returned to him. But why? Why didn't she leave me to the mercy of those soldiers?
Raphael got up, and was about to make his way down to the house to thank Amy, but stopped when he saw her lying there on the ground. She kept watch over me.
Emotions Raphael had never felt before started to bubble up inside him. I owe this girl my life, he realized, and I shall not rest until the debt is repaid.
Picking up the small girl in his arms, he carried her down into her bedroom and tucked her into bed, then sat on a chair and waited.
---
Amy opened her eyes slowly. I am in my room...but how? Unless-- Amy looked around, and Raphael was there, watching her. "You're awake." He said.
"So are you. Feeling better?" She replied, sitting up.
"Better than I have in a long time." A pause, then: "Why did you save me?"
"Why?" Amy hadn't really thought of it. "I suppose it was because I saw no evil in you as you fled from your pursuers, and I somehow knew you were being wrongly sought after."
"You are a very good judge of character, and I thank you. I owe you my life, not only for hiding me but for bringing me the medicine I needed to recover."
Amy didn't know how to respond. "I would like to know the name of my saviour." Raphael asked, when it was apparent she was at a loss for words.
"Amy Seacrest." She replied. "I already know yours from the soldier."
"Yes, I suppose you do." Amy got up and yawned, stretching. "You live alone?"
"Yes."
"How is it that someone so young has no relatives to stay with you?"
"I never knew any of my grandparents, they passed away when I was little, and I remember nothing about them. My parents left me three months ago, from a bandit attack. I don't know why I was spared, but I thank the Gods every day and make do on my own."
Amy could see that Raphael was moved deeply by her answer. "You deserve a better life than this." He said. "If you are willing, I will take you with me, and help you to achieve the existence you cannot have here."
Amy stopped. He wants to take me with him? Since I was first alone I dreamed of running away, and now the man I saved can make that dream a reality. "Thank you, Monsieur Sorel. I have thought many times about leaving this place, as every memory it evokes in me brings nothing but lonliness and longing for my dead parents' return."
"Please. Simply Raphael will do."
For months now, she had been on her own. Bandits passing through had decided to pillage a few homes before moving on, and hers was one of them. Amy wasn't sure why she was spared and her parents weren't; what she did know, however, was that she was alone. She was able to keep her parents house, and earned a living doing odd jobs for the rest of the villagers. Whether out of pity or just inherent kindness, the villagers paid her well for the most menial and simple tasks-- so well, in fact, that Amy started to regret taking such a large fee without really deserving it. But such was life in the village of Esanti: Do a good job, get a good reward.
Trouble seemed to be brewing far away, Amy thought. She didn't know why she thought it, but she was almost absolutely certain it was the truth. And not even a remote place like Esanti would be spared from its influence.
---
Amy watched the kettle boil for tea, one cup before bed as always. It was a calming influence, one to flatten out any emotion she had leftover from the day that would prevent her from getting a good night's sleep. When the familiar whistling noise filled the air, she took the hot object off of the fire carefully, and poured some in a light blue cup, one of only three she owned. Everything else had been broken or stolen when the bandits attacked, and since she didn't entertain much-- and when she did, it was only one or two people at a time-- she never bothered to replace the rest of the set of seven.
She was about to put the tea in when she heard shouting in the distance. She dropped the spoon she was holding and it clattered to the table. Her first thought was Have the bandits returned?
She used the water from the kettle to put out the fire and drew the curtains shut, and cautiously peered out. A man was running, a short sword in its scabbard at his side, but he had no intention of drawing it. Obvious fear was in his expression. I have to help this man. Amy thought, although she didn't know why.
"Sir!" Amy called, trying to draw no attention to herself but his.
The man stopped and looked around for the source of the sound. "Sir!" She called again, and he made no hesitation in running towards her house, as the shouts of his persuers were getting louder. Amy opened the door, and the man ran in. "You must hide," she said. "There is a passageway to the attic in the bedroom, above the small dresser near the door. It is the only way up, and nobody knows it exists but me. Go!" She whispered, and the man nodded in thanks before heading out of the room.
"Search everywhere! He can't have gotten far!" Someone said from outside, and then quick footsteps going in multiple directions could be heard.
There was a knock at her door, and Amy jumped. "Open the door! On order of the Duke!"
The Duke? This man is in more trouble than I thought. Amy went to open the door. "Hello, sir, what brings you to my humble home at this hour?"
"We have seen a fugitive running through his village, by the name of Raphael Sorel. He is wanted for treason against the Nobles."
I'm sorry, good sir, but I have not seen any man. I have only heard your soldiers' shouts."
"Then you wouldn't mind me looking around?"
Amy, her heart beating quickly in fear, stepped back to let the man in. "Of course."
"Thank you."
"Anything to help."
The man looked everywhere a man like Raphael could have hidden. "This house is barely furnished." He noted. "Where are your parents?"
"They died months ago, during an attack by bandits. I live alone now, and do not entertain much, so I have not really needed to replace anything that was stolen."
"I see. My condolences."
"Thank you."
"I am sorry for bothering you at this hour, it is apparent the traitor isn't here." The man said, making his way back to the door.
"It is alright. May you have luck with finding him." Amy said as the soldier walked out and closed the door behind him.
"Anything?" Someone said from outside.
"Nothing, sir. No trace of him." Another replied.
"It seems he's escaped our grasp again. Onwards, he can't have gotten far with his injuries."
Injuries? Oh, no... Amy ran to the hatch that led to the attic, opened it, and climbed up. There he saw Raphael lying on his back, his formal attire slashed on the right side. "So your name is Raphael." Amy said quietly.
"Yes." Raphael replied. "Do not believe those fools, it is them who has committed treason against my family. I foiled an assassination attempt by another house against my father, and now they want revenge against me."
"How dreadful!"
"It is of no difference now. I am injured... and poisoned, due to their trechery in the last battle I fought against them. The wound is superficial, but the poison will kill me."
Amy's eyes went wide. "Is there nothing to be done?"
"There is one thing. A flower, blood red with white thorns. It is called Phoenixes' Tail, and is the only antidote to their swords' poison. But I have not seen any--"
"I know where some grows!" Amy interrupted, as she remembered a patch of the peculiar plant growing near where she sat by the pond. "I shall return, Raphael. Hold on to your life." And with that, she left.
Down, out of her house, and then at full sprint to the pond, and she found the flowers. he grabbed four or five plants, pricking herself several times, but she didn't care as long as she was in time to save Raphael. She ran back to her house, and back up to the attic where he was. "I'm here." She announced. "What do you need done to these plants?"
"Nothing, just give them to me." Raphael replied, and Amy gave him the plants.
Raphael set the flowers down beside him, and broke off a thorn, then jabbed it into his wound, hissing in pain. "It is the only way to counteract the poison." He explained. "The thorns have one kind of medicine in them, the petals another." He broke another thorn off, and again stabbed himself with it.
"Is there anything else you need?" Amy asked.
Raphael's voice grew weak. "Just... rest until the morning. A side... effect of the medicine is that one falls... asleep..."
"Then come, quickly, down to my bed, where you will be more comfortable... Raphael?"
He was already asleep.
---
Raphael awoke feeling much better, but still not completely healed. He sat up and took the thorns out of his side, which had turned purple, and then removed the petals and held them to the reopened wound until the blood made them stick. The girl... she saved me. Raphael thought, as the memories of the previous night returned to him. But why? Why didn't she leave me to the mercy of those soldiers?
Raphael got up, and was about to make his way down to the house to thank Amy, but stopped when he saw her lying there on the ground. She kept watch over me.
Emotions Raphael had never felt before started to bubble up inside him. I owe this girl my life, he realized, and I shall not rest until the debt is repaid.
Picking up the small girl in his arms, he carried her down into her bedroom and tucked her into bed, then sat on a chair and waited.
---
Amy opened her eyes slowly. I am in my room...but how? Unless-- Amy looked around, and Raphael was there, watching her. "You're awake." He said.
"So are you. Feeling better?" She replied, sitting up.
"Better than I have in a long time." A pause, then: "Why did you save me?"
"Why?" Amy hadn't really thought of it. "I suppose it was because I saw no evil in you as you fled from your pursuers, and I somehow knew you were being wrongly sought after."
"You are a very good judge of character, and I thank you. I owe you my life, not only for hiding me but for bringing me the medicine I needed to recover."
Amy didn't know how to respond. "I would like to know the name of my saviour." Raphael asked, when it was apparent she was at a loss for words.
"Amy Seacrest." She replied. "I already know yours from the soldier."
"Yes, I suppose you do." Amy got up and yawned, stretching. "You live alone?"
"Yes."
"How is it that someone so young has no relatives to stay with you?"
"I never knew any of my grandparents, they passed away when I was little, and I remember nothing about them. My parents left me three months ago, from a bandit attack. I don't know why I was spared, but I thank the Gods every day and make do on my own."
Amy could see that Raphael was moved deeply by her answer. "You deserve a better life than this." He said. "If you are willing, I will take you with me, and help you to achieve the existence you cannot have here."
Amy stopped. He wants to take me with him? Since I was first alone I dreamed of running away, and now the man I saved can make that dream a reality. "Thank you, Monsieur Sorel. I have thought many times about leaving this place, as every memory it evokes in me brings nothing but lonliness and longing for my dead parents' return."
"Please. Simply Raphael will do."