Deep in the forest, three goblins encircle a hairy man in an embroidered red cloak and a disheveled woman in a noble dress. The man stands just before her, shielding her with his body and clutching a combat knife.
He draws a lightning bolt with his fingers and then lets loose a thunderstroke, frying one of the goblins in an instant. Its companions charge him with their cobbled-together clubs and attempt to bash his head in.
"Careful, princess!" Ronturga says, gently nudging her backwards before slashing out at one of the nearing enemies with his knife. He buries his blade into the goblin on the left, whirls around and kicks the goblin on the right. The stab wound proves lethal at once; its victim falls limp. The red mage grabs the defeated goblin's club off the ground and advances on the goblin with bits of boot dirt flaking off its chestpiece. They cross clubs. They push back against each other, arms trembling with resistance. Then the red mage drops his club. The goblin falls on its face. The red mage runs the dagger down its back like a nomad skinning a deer. The tension dissipates. He slumps his shoulders and turns to the woman.
"Are you alright?" he asks the princess, who stands cringing nearby with her face hidden behind her arms. She peeks at the carnage, blinks twice, and exhales. She loosely pinches two symmetrical blonde tendrils of hair and tucks them behind her ears.
"I'm unharmed," Sarah replies. "Are you alright?" The red mage inspects himself and nods.
"Can't complain," he says. "Let's get out of here."
Chapter 4: Back the Other Way
Alone, Ronturga made the trip to the Chaos Shrine in eight hours. With the princess, he anticipates the return trip will take about twelve, not counting a night of rest under the stars. This is no fault of hers, he recognizes; by her own admission, she did not eat as much food as Garland gave to her for the past few weeks and is suffering from malnourishment; she is not dressed for travel; her legs are simply shorter than his; worst yet she is frequently lost in her own head and takes several seconds of prodding to come back to the woods.
The goblins tend to linger close to the shrine. The three who attacked the pair made themselves known about an hour into their walk, though Ronturga became aware of them some minutes before they worked up the courage to strike and felt sure they were not working with any other goblins at any point after their initial exposure to the travelers.
It is at the end of the second hour now—at which point they have seen little more than trees without end, a single trio of goblins, and less and less sun—when the red mage concludes it is too dark to safely travel any further.
"I noticed this clearing on the way to the shrine," he says. "It's as good a place as any to stop for the night."
"Do you think they'll attack us here?" asks Sarah.
"They might try," Ronturga replies. "I'll secure the perimeter. And I can wake up throughout the night to keep watch." The two of them stand there with only the dim light of Ronturga's chamberstick for visibility. The first chill of the nighttime air begins to nip at their noses.
"I've never slept under the stars before," the princess says, looking up.
"It's a beautiful night," the red mage replies, "but you'd be better off in a tent."
"To ward off the monsters?"
"Bugs, mostly. They're vicious in this forest. A tent won't do much about monsters."
"Do you have a tent? It looks like you traveled light."
The red mage reaches into his cloak pocket and pulls out the golden pouch he carries with him everywhere. "A red mage never travels light, your highness. Do you mind holding the candle?"
She takes it. He digs through the bag. She watches with fascination as his arm disappears into a bag as small as his hand and emerges with a folded-up bundle of cloth. Her face twists into a smile.
"You have a magic bag!" she exclaims.
He chuckles. "It's my bag of holding. I made it myself as part of my red magic training."
"That's amazing!"
Ronturga smiles somberly; this must be the first time she's expressed joy since Garland came. He falls quiet and begins to unfold the tent. The princess holds the candle and watches him work. The most delightful part of the whole set up is without a doubt when he pulls a couple of poles from his bag of tricks and props up the tent for her; she is easily amused tonight.
He steps off into the darkness without a word. Sarah holds the candle out in an effort to keep her eyes on him, but the firelight betrays her eyes and drowns out everything beyond what's immediately at hand. She hears a dragging sound not unlike a river attempting to sneeze mixed with a scratchy, rustling noise. Ronturga reappears dragging a piece of dry log with notches cut into it. He drops the wood on the ground in front of the tent and begins to split it at the notches with his hands like a tablet of chocolate.
"Where did you find that?" she asks.
"I picked it out on the way to get you," he replies. "I did as much as I could during the day so we wouldn't be stuck out here in the dark for too long."
The red mage lays out the log pieces side-by-side. He steps away into the dark again, this time returning with an armful of sticks and bark. He sprinkles the kindling and tinder on and around the logs.
"Do you mind?" he asks, gesturing for the candle. She is looking at the stars again. It takes her a moment to notice him, but she passes the chamberstick just the same.
He takes one of the sticks and plunges it into the fire until it catches. He then begins to poke at the bits of wood until soon a small lick of flame dances onto the pile and arranges his tinder around the logs. A sheet of flame begins to wash over the wood. Satisfied with the setup, he rises to his feet and begins to sift through his bag again. This time he produces a blanket rolled up in a bundle.
"I'm going to set up some bells around the camp," he says, handing her the blanket. "This is for you."
"Thank you," says Sarah. She unfastens the bundle and wraps the blanket around herself. Though Ronturga takes the candle and steps away, he notices that she is not retreating into the tent to get comfy. She stands by the fire and watches him work, now with a more encompassing circle of sight than with just the candle from before.
He reaches into one of the pockets of his cloak and takes out a spool of wire. He puts it on the ground and weighs it down with a stone, then begins to travel around the outer edge of the campsite and looping it around trees every so often. He places three bells on the end of the wire and pulls it through before he finally ends up back where he started. Tying the ends of wire together and snipping the spool, he achieves a decent tripwire and makes his way back to the campfire.
All this time, Sarah has watched him work.
"Are you hungry, princess?" the red mage asks as he nears. Though she hasn't taken her eyes off him, she doesn't notice the orange in his hand until he's holding it right in front of her face. She looks at it for a moment.
"Thank you." She takes it from him. She searches for a seat, then finds one at the edge of the tent near the fire. Ronturga takes a seat just nearby, in the grass and by the fire.
"I have a knife for that if you'd like." The words are still on their way out of his lips and have not even a chance to shut the door behind them before she jams her thumb into the orange and begins to mangle it. He stops, then smirks to himself, before rifling through his pockets again. This time, he brings out water in a small reusable bottle and sets it next to her. She wastes no time grabbing it and taking large, unladylike gulps.
He doesn't stop there. He fishes out a small vial of oil, rice, even more water, peanuts, and a couple of peppers. As if that weren't enough, he produces a cast iron pan and a pot.
"Is that not heavy?" Sarah asks.
"It's hard to explain," Ronturga replies, dumping rice in the pot and covering it in water. "When I put something in the bag of holding, it's like it's somewhere else. So, I don't even feel the weight. But when I reach inside, it's like sticking my hand through a door into that place."
"Do all red mages do that?"
"It's our final test. If you can make a bag of holding, you receive the red cap and you are officially a red mage." He begins to heat the food over the fire.
"What exactly is red magic?"
"It's a discipline of order and balance," says Ronturga. "It's the exact opposite of blue magic, where abilities come from chaos and lawlessness and exposure to the world of monsters. We practice versatility and an understanding of all things, including white and black magic. But we also have our own unique abilities, mostly for utility. A lot of prestidigitation and artificery." The water begins to boil.
"I've always found it so fascinating," Sarah notes.
"Have you ever met a red mage before?" he asks.
She sighs. "Not exactly. But ever since I was little, I've known about them. I was too young to remember, but my mother says that when I was a little girl, I would often tell her about a man in red who visited the castle in my dreams."
"And you think it must have been a red mage?"
"I'm not sure," she replies. "I don't even remember it myself. But I've always had such grounded dreams that seem like they could really happen, if things were just a little different."
"What's so different about this one?" asks Ronturga. "Maybe you just have a good sense that you'd meet a man in red eventually. One that makes an excellent stir fry."
"I dreamed he visited me at the castle," Sarah says. "But I was never in any danger. He was just there to see me. And he even asked for my hand in marriage."
"You were a little young to be getting married, it sounds like." She laughs.
"Except in the dream, I wasn't. I dreamed I was older. Not older, just a woman as I am now. And in the dream, my parents said I could not marry him because I am betrothed to the prince of Elfheim," she says. "And when I told my mother that, it was how I learned that I was to marry the prince of Elheim from the moment I was born. She had never told me before."
"I couldn't imagine," says Ronturga. "Well, is he at least the kind of man you'd want to marry?"
She pauses, considers. "He's the kind of man any woman should want to marry. Gentle, graceful, intelligent, kind… My sister Mia had just been born the first time I ever saw him. He came to Castle Cornelia, and she couldn't stop smiling and laughing when he spoke to her."
"He sounds nice," Ronturga determines. "But if I may ask, why do you still seem apprehensive?"
"It just doesn't feel real," Sarah says. "Being a princess, you always must be presentable, clean, kind, your posture must be perfect, you can't run out and play with the other kids in town, your food is always cold because someone has to make sure it hasn't been poisoned. And he, being a prince, goes through the same thing. But then we speak to each other and it's like he's never available because he can't be. There are too many eyes watching."
"Why do you have to marry him then?"
"It's all political," she replies. "It's a show of good relations between Elfheim and Cornelia. To unite the royal families of two races."
"The Royal Ambition…"
"You know of it?"
"I do," Ronturga says. "It's not something the red mages really concern themselves with, just something I've known ever since I can remember." The Royal Ambition, known commonly among some circles, aspires to someday unite the many races of the world in marriage through their respective kingdoms' royalty; the elves and dark elves had many unions throughout history; the dwarf king Baelothed married the human queen Trist; the human prince Orfeo fell in love with a mermaid and went to live beneath the sea; however, the elves and dark elves were still entirely disconnected from the other races. For a human woman to marry an elf in an official capacity mutually recognized by the law of two kingdoms would be a first.
"You're full of surprises," Sarah tells him.
He says, "As are you. When I was in Cornelia, your people had nothing but good things to say. But to be quite honest, when I saw that castle and those perfectly clean streets, even now in the first days of the calamity it was the closest I've ever seen to a utopia. I would think you've had a great life up until now, so to see you go through what you've been through lately, I'm surprised you seem to be in such good spirits."
"Well, I'm going home, right?" she says with a smile.
"Yes princess, you sure are," he replies. He tolds out a hot bowl of rice and vegetables. She takes it from him, this time with no hesitation, and leans close to take a bite.
"Princess?"
She pauses and looks up to see the handle of a fork presented to her from the red mage's outstretched hand. She reaches for it.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
"Eat it however you'd like," Ronturga shrugs. "Your secret is safe with me." With that, he throws decorum out the window and tips the bowl back, shoveling rice into his mouth with his fork.
Sarah snorts out a laugh and then happily turns up her bowl just the same.
Soon after the pair have finished their dinner, the princess has bundled herself in the blanket. She is full of life and has nothing but questions for Ronturga.
"How did you know you were a Warrior of Light?"
"When the first signs of the calamity occurred, the red mages and I performed a ritual to ask the stars for guidance," Ronturga says. "Then the clouds parted, and a moonbeam shone directly on me."
"That must have been exciting!"
"Well, it wasn't exactly directly on me. It was more like right next to me. But I managed to push my friend out of the way and stand in it before anyone else noticed." The princess laughs at this.
Ronturga feels rustling in his pocket and soon hears a loud squeaking.
"What was that?" asks Sarah.
"It's Pachinko," he replies. He reaches into his pocket.
"There's no way you fit a game of Pachinko into that bag of yours."
"Oh, not that Pachinko." He holds out the rat, who stands atop his palm sniffing around for the ghost of the rice grain that is no longer there. "This Pachinko. He's probably hungry."
"He's so cute!" Sarah exclaims. "Can I pet him?"
"I wouldn't yet. He'll probably bite. I need to feed him." The red mage reaches into another pocket with his other hand, this time pulling out a handful of sunflower seeds. "This what you're looking for?"
It is, indeed. Pachinko reaches out with his stubby little toes and begins putting away seeds quick as a blink. Sarah watches and laughs. Soon Pachinko has worn himself out and tumbles over, feeling particularly fat but never quite so content.
"Feel free to pet him. Honestly, you could eat him at this point and he wouldn't mind too much."
"I'm not going to eat him! I just want to touch—he's so soft!" The princess tickles at the rat's neck and ears for several minutes. Pachinko, while too lethargic to do much more than lounge by the fire, shows the tiniest hint of approval at her touch.
"Does he really just sleep in your pocket?"
"It's bigger than it looks in there," says Ronturga. "He's got a hammock and some water. He lives in his own bag of holding." With that, he lowers the rat into the pocket-hovel and drops him off in the comfort of his own bed.
With that, the red mage looks into the fire for a moment. "But this Warrior of Light thing… I don't want to say it's scary because that's not it. Humbling, maybe? This prophecy has been around for hundreds of years. I've known every word of it my entire life, just like everyone else in the world. Now I find out that it's about me, and suddenly I'm a part of this thing I never expected to be a part of… It should make me feel important, but somehow it just puts into perspective how tiny we are."
"Because you didn't get to choose it for yourself," Sarah says. He looks at her. She is no longer smiling.
"Maybe that's it."
"You've always known that you would be a small part of something greater, but then it's right there in front of you and suddenly your part is much greater than that. But it was never your decision to be more than a witness to someone else taking on that burden. And suddenly you realize that everyone who's ever lived, every name that's ever been passed down through history, was right where you are: a person who breathes and feels."
He hears the confidence in these words. "I think I have a habit of underestimating the pressure you've been under all your life, princess."
She smiles and says, "I've had a great life, really. But there's so much structure to it. You'd think when you have everything in the world, you'd want for nothing."
"But you didn't get a say in whether you wanted that kind of life," Ronturga adds.
"And even if I'm happy, how do I know I wouldn't be happier some other way?"
"You can't, if that's the only life you've ever known."
"But now I am sure the woman my people see when they look at me is only a façade." It is now that Ronturga first realizes how close the two are.
He says, "Then the question is, when you return home, which version of yourself will have survived the journey?"
She grabs his arm. "Do you think Garland took something from me that I may never find again?"
"He said that he could best change your mind by isolating you," Ronturga recounts. "I think it's true that we aren't the same people when we're alone. But if you try to use that to mold someone into what you want them to be…"
"It's just a different façade," she finishes. Ronturga nods.
He says, "I'm not sure you can ever be free of the burden of these last few weeks if you try to keep up the façade." He moves her hair out of her face. "But maybe if you let yourself call the shots for a change, it will feel like you're becoming the person you should have always been."
"Or maybe I follow the script as I've always done, and I will continue to be the version of me I always was."
"When you were happy."
"I'm happy now."
She presses her lips against his. Her arms emerge from the blanket around her like a butterfly from a cocoon. They ensnare the red mage who pulls her closer, returning the passion with equal intensity. He holds her chin with one hand warmed by the firelight, a bundle of cloth near her waist with the other. It is not his place to question, but Sarah is no stranger to kissing, and it certainly supports her assertion that she is and has always been a happy woman.
But there is still the burden of the obvious exception, which quickly begins to weigh heavily on Ronturga's mind. He feels the raw skin of her rope-burned wrists around his neck and remembers the quiet discomfort she tried to mask when he first found her laying there on the straw in Garland's dungeon. Whether she sees it or not, those weeks still live inside and may one day haunt her dreams. He loses focus on the moment until Sarah's sighs soon fall silent. It is he who pulls away first.
"I'm so sorry," he says.
Sarah shakes her head as if to comfort him. "Don't be. I kissed you. I wanted this." She begins to lean in again.
"It's not that," the red mage clarifies, gently grabbing her shoulder. He hangs his head, denying the princess his lips. "I feel as if I am taking advantage of you."
"Why do you say that?"
"You have a betrothed. You were kidnapped for weeks and until today hadn't used your own hands for anything. You just told me about the lack of agency you've had all your life and how you have been denied an opportunity to be vulnerable in front of anyone in your life ever since you can remember."
Her face is framed mostly in shadow, but with the flickering of the firelight Ronturga can see the shimmer of a budding tear in her left eye. She asks, "Can't I be vulnerable now?"
His eyes meet hers. "I would never deny you that," he tells her. "Whatever is on your mind, whatever you feel you need to say, it's safe with me."
"But you'd deny me your kiss?"
"Only because I don't know whether your kiss is mine to receive. I'm afraid that you chose me because you were able to choose for once, not because I was worth choosing."
"And what if you are?" She's leaned in close again, but this time it is not for his touch; she must know that he sees her seeing him. He considers her words.
"If I am," he says, "and you've had time to figure out what you really want for yourself, send for me. I will answer."
She loses the first of her tears as it rolls along her right cheek. "What if you're halfway across the world fighting Chaos?"
"I came halfway across the world to get you once before," he says. "I'll come back for you."
She closes her eyes. "Do you promise?" He wipes the tear away with the wrist of his sleeve.
"I swear."
She places her head against his chest and leaves it there. She sighs, "Just hold me for a minute. I'm beginning to realize what a terrible week I've been having."
Ronturga wraps his arm around the princess and holds her there while the fire crackles. Her requested minute passes after what feels like many more, but she doesn't stir and neither does he. He sits in near-silence and lets Sarah have these moments of fleeting peace before she drifts off to sleep in his gentle clasp. Soon the stillness washes over him as well, and the red mage lets his head rest atop hers before nodding off to the rhythmic, quiet chiming of bells swaying in the wind.