Valkyrie Profile:

Lenneth Novelization AU:

Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release.

Chapter Three:

The Princess and the Mercenary II

Jelanda

Jelanda hadn't known what to expect of that brute when he approached her father's throne. That Arngrim would publicly berate King Joshua and destroy his gift to him hadn't been on her list of possibilities, though. That mercenary who'd bagged the most monsters in the Artolian forest was quite an unpredictable fellow, Jelanda realized.

"But there's no room for that in an ordered society. I'll bring him down a peg. Or several. Oh ho ho!" she thought confidently. "If those useless knights won't put him in his place, then it's up to me."

After she finished up the last touches of the outfit she'd worked out for today, she opened the door of her bedroom a crack. Jelanda peeked out, glancing both ways. No one was around.

"What luck!" she thought.

It was time to move out, then. She stepped out in her disguise. Jelanda needed to avoid being recognized in public once out of the castle, so she'd dressed herself in a relatively normal purple dress that wasn't too overly fancy. Paired with a light pink babushka and some fake wide-rimmed glasses, she was confident no one would know she was the Princess while roaming the city. She made sure to pull her tight white gloves on tighter. She couldn't afford to lose those. Since she couldn't take her scepter to augment her magic, she wove a few enhancing magic circles onto the inside of those gloves before going to bed the night before. Couldn't be too careful out in the city, even if no one knew she was the princess.

"I did remember his address, right?"

She slipped one hand into her purse and felt her fingers close around the little slip of paper she'd copied his information onto the previous evening. She breathed out a relieved sigh.

"Oh, good, I won't have to fetch it and risk getting caught."

She stepped out into the hall, still looking around in every direction. When Jelanda saw she was in the clear, she prepared to run for it. The princess hiked up her skirt and then took off at a jogging pace. Her heeled boots clicked loudly against the stone floor as she went. She rounded a corner to the left at the corridor's end. For all intents and purposes, it looked like she'd run to a dead-end. However, Castle Artolia, like so many other large stone structures, had its secrets.

Jelanda glanced over her shoulder one more time, and then pressed three specific stones in the wall. The entrance to the secret passage swung open. Once the gap was big enough, she raced inside. A moment later, the timed door closed, leaving no evidence that anyone had used it. Once inside, Jelanda giggled and descended the spiral staircase which would lead her to the underground tunnel. There were several exits she was needing the third or fourth ones, which led up into castle town.

Jelanda smirked as she went.

"The plan is perfect," she thought.

She'd go meet this Arngrim incognito, discuss the details of a 'job' she was hiring him for, and then embarrass him the way he'd humiliated her father. For now, though, she just needed to get to the bottom of the steps, which went down several floors.

Jelanda began to pant as her trek just seemed to spiral down farther and farther without end. It had seemed like an eternity when the small room came into view.

"Ooh, finally," she muttered.

She stopped at the base of the steps and sat down on the bottom one. The teen took out of a handkerchief to dot away from the sweat from her face. It had been quite a walk, but she had finally reached the bottom floor, adjacent to the cellar. A single wooden door with a rounded top was across from her, leading directly into the secret escape tunnel. Jelanda cared not that it was only meant to be used as a last resort in a state of emergency. She uttered the spell to unlock it without a second thought and the door swung open on her command. Jelanda stood, smoothed out the wrinkles from her skirt, and entered the passageway.


"Let's see… Now I guess I decide how I wanna do this."

Aelia had brought her horse to a stop at the mouth of a crossroads. She looked down one path, and the other. She held the reins tightly as she considered the route she wanted to take North.

"Thought I'd decided to just ride along the base of the Artolian Mountain range. They'll take me all the way to Coriander Village eventually, but…"

She glanced down the left trail.

"If I go Northwest, I could stop at Camille Village and resupply if I have to. Then I could just ride straight North across the grasslands until I hit the Artolian Mountains again, because they DO curve back into my path after a certain point. I can still follow them to Coriander the rest of the way. But it's open grasslands. No cover."

"Hmm," Aelia hummed.

"And what was that other thing about crossing the grasslands Gilbert warned me about? Oh, yeah, I'd have to ride past that, uh… What was it? Gorda? No, Gorhla. I'd have to ride right past the Gorhla cult headquarters."

She vaguely recalled hearing about people disappearing because of the Gorhla cult when she was growing up in the Artolian slums, but never caught many details. She didn't even know they were still operating. Or anything about the cult, really.

Aelia glanced both ways and thought of the mission objective: finding Grey.

Her hands tightened around the reins with anger.

"No mistakes. I ride along the mountains," she said.

She snapped the reins.

"Onward, Brego!" she shouted.

Her mount took off with a light gallop down the right trail. Aelia's eyes narrowed in angry determination.

"Oh, I wouldn't linger wherever you are, Grey. This time, we're coming for you."


"Something botherin' you?"

Kashell waited for an answer expectantly. Celia was glancing back toward Artolia as they road along. He was thankful of the fact her steed at least had her eyes forward. He looked between the carriage bearing the family and her.

"Well, don't linger," he said.

"I know," Celia said.

She faced forwards again and lightly snapped the reins, getting her mount to speed up a bit.

"I just hate leaving Aelia on her own to deal with this. Maybe we should have tried harder to get one of the others to go with her or terminated our contract."

Kashell cast a nervous glance in the direction of their current employers.

"Don't let them hear you say that," he hissed.

"Sorry," Celia whispered.

She sighed, shoulders drooping.

"I just worry is all. I know, I know. I didn't used to fret when we all took separate jobs, but after Lamia, Bartos, and Rolf, I can't help it," she said.

Kashell frowned, but not angrily, as he rode next to her.

"If I confess that I'm in the same boat, I doubt that'll do much to chase the worries out," he thought.

"Relax. Nobody's gonna do anything stupid," he said, instead.

Celia still seemed doubtful as they rode along.

"You'll see. When we get back, Lawfer will be dragging Arngrim back to his house drunker than my Uncle Lothbrok at a sumbl," Kashell insisted with a cheerful voice.

Celia giggled.

"I don't it's possible for anyone to get drunker than Lothbrok and live," she cracked.

"The hardest working liver in Midgard," Kashell admitted, flashing a toothy smile.

The two shared a laugh. While Celia was still chuckling, Kashell stole a fond side glance, noting how beautiful she was when the sunlight shined against her hair. Then his moment of reverie ended, as his own thoughts to turned to Grey and the past.

They'd all known it was inevitable to lose someone. The life of mercenary guaranteed death if not for yourself, then your comrades. They'd just never expected to lose one of their own to another of their own, though. Kashell still remembered the exact moment when he realized the stab wound on Lamia matched Grey's sword. His eyes narrowed in hate.

"Don't worry about a thing, Celia," he vowed quietly. "When we find him, you won't have to brace yourself to kill someone we all called friend. I'll gut that wife-butchering some of a bitch, myself."


"You sure you wanna try your luck going over 'em at this time of year, sir?"

Janus continued to gaze up at the Artolian Mountains. Not only did they run the entire length of the continent, but they were wide as well. The mountains and their steep slopes were immersed in fog, and their high peaks were swathed in endless snow for most of the year. The challenge and danger of crossing them discouraged even the intrepid, and that was just the terrain. Janus was undaunted, standing beside the mule he'd just bought with all the supplies loaded onto its back a mere moment earlier. The rancher who'd just sold him the animal stood behind him a few paces wearing a look of concern for the apparent madman who wanted to brave the mountains.

"You know, many die up there even in good weather," the rancher said. "If the cold, the winds, or even the mountain itself don't kill you, you could easily spring a vampire while crossing. They have a hive somewhere up there. Everyone knows it. We've all seen come down at night and take anyone fool enough to let them in when they come knocking."

Janus turned to him, stone-faced as ever.

"Thank you for your concern, but urgent business takes me to the other side," he answered.

The man still seemed doubtful.

"I've done it before," Janus told him.

The rancher looked surprised, glancing first at the treacherous mountains ahead before staring at Janus again.

"Then yer either braver, or madder, than most. Either way, may Meili guide your steps and give you safe passage," the rancher replied.

"May Jörd watch over your livestock," Janus told him respectfully.

The two exchanged a forearm handshake.

"See you," the rancher said.

"Blessed," Janus answered.

The two men parted ways. Janus grabbed the reins of the mule and took his first step toward the mountain.

"I'm coming home, father," he said. "I will protect you no matter what happens and face the consequences for violating my banishment if I must. To home, fair beast. To Crell Monferaigne."


Somehow, Arngrim had slept through the morning vigil of the neighbor's rooster. The sunlight streaming in through the window awakened him, instead. He blinked dumbly staring directly up at the glass panes before being forced to cover with his eyes with a grunt.

"What? Sunlight?" the realization hit him.

He stared through his fingers at the bright light shining in through the glass, and realized he'd overslept big time.

"Shit…" he moaned.

Despite his slight hangover, he threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed to get ready. A rustle from out in the living room told him Roland was home, too. He quickly got ready, pulling on some leather breeches and a white button-down shirt with long-sleeves. He left the room without shaving. In the main living area, the smell of freshly cooked food entered Arngrim's nostrils as he walked past Roland's easel. His brother was setting the dining table when he entered. Roland looked up and saw a somewhat disheveled Arngrim enter.

"Oh, good morning," Roland greeted him.

"Is it still morning?" Arngrim asked.

Roland laughed and turned to the shove again. He was putting the finishing touches on their breakfast.

"You didn't sleep in that late, brother," he said lightly. "You didn't miss breakfast."

"Only just," Arngrim replied, looking at the two plates of food Roland set down. "Man, how late did I get home last night?"

Roland laughed.

"Very. It was past midnight," he replied. "I wonder if they had to cut you off before you were willing to leave."

"Ah, shaddup," Arngrim grumbled.

Roland just smiled and shook his head in amusement before becoming more frank.

"You tossed and turned quite a bit, though," he asked.

"Eh, it's been a long time since I've slept in a prepare bed," Arngrim answered.

"Too soft?" Roland asked.

"I guess I'm not used to it."

Arngrim plopped himself down in front of the plate of food.

"You shoulda woke me up. I'd have helped ya make breakfast."

Roland shrugged.

"My body may be too frail for battle, but I can cook a meal for us both. It's the least I can do after you work so hard earning us oth," he answered.


"Now, let's see… He's supposed to live just off of Gokstad Street," Jelanda muttered to herself.

She held her copy of Arngrim's address in hand as she wandered the streets of Artolia. Every now and again, someone would turn would do a double take on the well-dressed young woman walking around by herself and wondering why she was being so foolhardy. Then there were others…

"Hey, isn't that Princess Jelanda?" a man asked his wife.

"I think so…" his beloved replied.

"Should we do something about this?" he then inquired.

His wife shook her head.

"No, it's best to let royals do royal business without harassment," she said.

Jelanda glanced around, pleased she had not been approached yet. People seemed to politely part around her, as they should in civil society. She wasn't too concerned if someone approached her with amorous intent

"Ho ho, I knew my disguise would be perfect." She thought smugly.

All the same, she subconsciously pulled the gloves tighter yet.

"Hey, ain't that the princess?" one man whispered to the other.


"This is the promised item."

"Oh! This is the Ghoul Powder!"

Lombart leaned in toward the little brown bag of the alchemic mixture with anticipation in his eyes. The man sitting across from him pushed the small sack closer. Lombart grinned almost hungrily just looking at it.

"With this, I could move on with my plan," Lombart uttered. Then he looked back up at his bespectacled guest. "You have my thanks."

Violet eyes looked at him with wicked delightment from behind the round lenses the man wore. The man brushed a stray strand of wavy chocolate brown hair from his eyes before sitting back in his seat.

"Thanks is not necessary," the man replied with a wicked smile. "The fun begins as soon as you use it."

Lombart's guest was a young man in his twenties, not even half the Chancellor's age. He had an average build, not that one could tell from the heavy clothes he wore. He wore baggy brown pants with big pockets paired with matching brown leather boots. He had a long, flowing and slightly tattered dark blue cape worn over a dark green baroque jacket. The man had several books of magic attached to his belt, ready to be read and used at a moment's notice. His thin, sharp features made him look absolutely predatory, almost as if he were leering at Lombart from his side of the table.

Lombart smirked.

"Well, you may not require my thanks, Master Lezard, but I am assuming you still want your payment."

He reached into one of his pockets and laid the money out on the table, pushing it over to his supplier.

"Why, thank you, Chancellor Lombart. Your generous donation to my research is most appreciated," Lezard said, taking the bag of coins.

Lombart chuckled.

"And for how quickly you filled out my order, you will find some extra coinage in your payment. 150 oth worth more."

Lezard looked at him with slight suspicion.

"Now that is exceedingly generous," he said.

Lombart shrugged.

"No need to be so distrustful, my friend. I have found that good dealers are more likely to do business with you again if your rewards make it worth their while."

Lezard slowly smiled in response.

"That, I think we can both agree on. You have my thanks, then. I'm working on something that's going to require a little extra oth, anyway. The additional funds will do nicely."


Knock, knock, knock

"Strange," Roland said with a start.

He stood from the table as he and Arngrim both looked toward the front door with looks of alarm.

"A customer?" Roland asked.

"Sit down," Arngrim instructed.

He got up and stretched to loosen his joints. They popped and cracked loudly enough for Roland to hear.

"I'll see who it is. You just stay back," Arngrim said firmly.

He walked to the front door, cursing himself for leaving his sword right next to it last night. An enemy could have kicked the door in and been between him and his weapon by now. He thought about how he'd have to find some way to protect Roland without his trusty Beast-Killer. He entered the small foyer, breathing a sign of relief that the stranger at the door hadn't just let themselves in.

He quickly walked up and grabbed Beast-Killer and swung around over his back. Feeling more secure with the feel of Beast-Killer's strap across his torso, he opened the door. Standing outside his door was a petite blonde girl in her early-mid teens wearing a deep violet dress, babushka, and grasses. She carried herself with an air of nobility, standing before him confidently despite being absolutely tiny compared to his large frame.

"Huh?" Arngrim thought.

He raised a brow to young woman at his door.

"Good morning," she said politely. "Thank you for getting the door for me."

"Wha…"

By the time he could vocalize his inquiry, the girl had walked past him, entering his home without invite.

"Hey!" he shouted in protest.

He closed the door behind her and put his hands on his hips unhappily as he watched her. Meanwhile, she looked the home of Arngrim and Roland over with a critical eye.

"What a filthy place… Do you actually live there?" she asked.

Arngrim scowled.

"Alright, it's bad enough that you just elbowed your way in like you own the place!" he barked. "But you shouldn't be rude in someone else's house. So, what's your business here?"

"Ah!" Jelanda uttered upon being reminded of her mission.

She turned to face Arngrim with her best smile, but he was not impressed. She kept up the pretense, anyway, and continued to look as though she hadn't just offensively critiqued his living space.

"Arngrim, isn't it?" she asked. "No, I mean, Sir Arngrim?"

"Sir Arngrim?" he thought with bemusement.

"Yeah, that's me…" he answered guardedly.

"I am…" Jelanda started to say.

Then she realized she'd forgotten to come up with an alias for herself. Arngrim raised a brow while he watched the little intruder to struggle to say her own name, having no idea what her problem was.

"Oh, poo!" she thought, panicking slightly.

"Uh, I mean, I name is… Jela…" she stopped herself.

"Jela?" he asked dubiously.

"N-no," she protested, sputtering. "Jel… Jela…"

"I got it," she thought triumphantly.

She recovered her composure as best she could, and said:

"I am called Angela."

The two stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. Arngrim studied the little home invader while she kept up her best efforts to appear friendly with a smile. At last Arngrim broke the silence.

"So, Lady Angela," he said. "What is your business with me? Come on in while we discuss it."

He gestured for her to go into the main living area. At this point, Arngrim was fairly certain she wasn't dangerous and saw no harm in letting her take a seat.

"Thank you," she answered with a curtsy.

She walked past him through the archway into the living room with Arngrim following behind. She paused just inside the doorway upon catching sight of Roland standing next to her easel, supported by his crutch.

"Oh, we have guest?" he said, and smiled to her. "Hello, my name is Roland."

"I, uh… A-Angela," she stammered.

"I saw he had a brother when I copied his address, but I never imagined he was crippled."

She jumped with surprise when Arngrim suddenly walked right past her.

"You can have a seat right over here," he offered.

He pulled out a chair at the table and stood waiting for her to seat down.

"Oh, uh, right. Yes," she replied.

She slowly began to approach him, her thoughts lingering on Roland. She cleared her throat and looked up at the large warrior. The first tinge of doubt about her plan hit her, but she brushed it off.

"I came… to offer you a job," she answered.

"…Are you serious?" he muttered.

Roland grinned.

"You have plenty of time today, right, brother," he said. "You should at least talk it over."

Arngrim glowered at him. Something about this stunk. He didn't know what, but Roland was not helping. Jelanda smiled in smug triumph.

"Actually, would you like to discuss this matter over breakfast?" she asked. "I'm sure one of those… restaurants, will have something good."

"We actually just finished up breakfast," Roland said. "But even so, I'm sure Arngrim wouldn't mind sitting down and discussing the job with you."

It was all the warrior could do to stop himself from growling at Roland. He stared at "Angela" a moment longer before sighing as his shoulders slumped.

"Alright," he said, caving. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Excellent! My charms never fail," Jelanda thought, giddily.

"Do you know of any fine establishments?"

"Well, there's Nan-Lou Garden," Roland suggested.

"Non-Lou… Garden?" Jelanda tried repeating the unfamiliar words.

Roland chuckled.

"Nan-Lou Garden. It's a Yamatoese restaurant," he explained. "It's about as fine as it gets in Artolia without an invite to dine at the castle."

"Nan-Lou Garden," Jelanda mumbled. "The words are unfamiliar to me."

Roland chuckled.

"Not surprising, its run by an actual Yamato family," Roland said. "I talk to owner's son at the market sometimes. They traveled here from the island."

"Yamato's just off the coast of the continent in the southwest," Arngrim added. "Their culture's different from us living up here on the mainland."

"I've heard," Jelanda was a bit annoyed he'd assume she didn't know that.

"I hear the food they serve is pretty exotic," Roland continued. "It's all recipes they brought up with them."

Jelanda's annoyance faded and was replaced with fascination. Her eyes glittered in captivation.

"Ooh!" Jelanda hummed.

"Stop trying to help me, please," Arngrim mentally begged his brother.


"Oh!" Jelanda gasped.

They were standing just outside Nan-Lou Garden. It was built of the style of Wayō architecture. She stared up at the shingled hipped roof of the building, which had curved edges instead of flat ones. It was different from traditional Artolian architecture, which consisted mostly of stone masonry and boarded gable roofs. The main entrance was a sliding door. The whole thing seemed very alien to her.

Arngrim glanced at her and rolled his eyes as he became impatient with her gawking at the building's exterior.

"So, we gonna go and talk about the job?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course," she said.

As they walked in, he got the door for her. "Angela" stopped just inside. In her eyes, the interior was as strangely decorated as the outside, with paper lamps with renditions of serpentine dragons and other oddities adorning them. The windows were on sliders similar to the door and had paper in their panes. Some of them were already slid open. The mostly wooden interior was painted white with the rounded rafters and other supports coated a faded red.

Soon enough, they were seated. Their waitress was a young Yamato woman with her hair tied back in a bun. She wore a brown, decorate kimono. She left them to go take another order while "Angela" decided what she wanted to eat. The waitress's wooden clogs clacked against the wooden floor as she went. While they waited for her to return, the princess looked over the menu.

"Eh…" Jelanda moaned quietly.

Her eyes passed over dishes, beverages, and desserts as mysterious to the princess as the deep sea is a robin. Roland had said it was exotic, but she was still expecting to be able to identify something in the menu. That was not happening, and with Arngrim having declined one, himself, he was going to be no help. Across the table, he sat staring at her with one arm stretched out across its surface while his chin rested in his other hand. He looked bored as he waited impatiently for the details of this "job", but he said nothing while Jelanda attempted to read the menu.

"I'm just going to pretend I know I what I'm doing," Jelanda decided.

The waitress returned with a clipboard.

"Have you decided what you'd like to eat, Milady?" the waitress asked.

"I have no idea, but here goes…" Jelanda thought.

She opened her mouth to speak once, and then stopped.

"Let's see…" she faltered.

Jelanda's fingers hovered over the assorted foods before pointing with no confidence to the first item it landed on, and then two more.

"I'll take this and this and this," she said uncertainly.

Arngrim's brow raised again.

"What is she doing?" he asked under his breath.

The waitress, to her credit, restrained any surprise, and simply moved on.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked.

"Um…" This, and this, and one of these…" Jelanda pointed at several items.

Arngrim shot up from his seat, looking annoyed and disbelieving.

"Hey! Are you really going to eat all that?" he said louder than he intended.

"All of what?" she asked. "I'll have what I want and leave the rest."

The fact she'd said that as if it was the most obvious thing made it worse by Arngrim's reckoning. He palmed his face and ground his teeth as several possible responses flooded his head. In the end, he said nothing and sunk back down into his seat. The waitress took the opportunity to walk away with their order. Arngrim composed himself, taking more than a few deep breaths.

"So, ah, what was it you wanted to hire me for?" he again asked.

"Why don't we talk while we eat?" she replied.

30 minutes later…

Jelanda sat staring at the veritable banquet of food the waitress returned with, an eye twitching. Their server had to laid out what looked like raw meat chopped into little squares then layered on top of each other in a circle, a bowl of muddy water with vegetables floating in it, and a plate of small creatures with bulbous heads and several tails growing from the base, among other things she couldn't classify. Had they even cooked the good properly?

"Call you manager," Jelanda ordered.

The waitress looked up from setting a plate down, eyes widening with surprise.

"Huh?" she asked.

"What said call your manager!" Jelanda shouted.

Several other guests looked over in shock at the outburst while Arngrim raised a hand to try discreetly cover his head from view. The waitress left to go get her employee, leaving them alone again for the moment.

"Hey," Arngrim said in a raspy whisper. "Don't be such a… spoiled little princess."

Jelanda's face twisted into a scowl, but before she could retort, the manager and head chef came out wiping his hands with a wash rag. He was a dressed not dissimilarly to the waitress, wearing a purple kimono that wasn't quite as long as hers', ending just above his socks. He was an older man with a lined, narrow face. He wore a purple hat, which resembled a monk's cap with a band around the rim with Yamatoese writing on it.

The waitress pointed to Jelanda and Arngrim. The manager went over to them, looking surly for having been pulled from the kitchen. Arngrim sunk onto the table, covering his head in his hands, already suffering from the first round of secondhand embarrassment for being a part of this. The manager stopped next to their table with his arms crossed. He and Jelanda glared fire into each other.

"Just what is wrong with my food?" the manager all but demanded.

"'What's wrong', you say?" Jelanda cried as her face reddened with anger.

She jumped up from her seat with a huff and gestured angrily at the chopped meat squares.

"What is this meat! It's raw!"

"Young Lady, that is called sashimi. It's Yamato cuisine," the manager responded firmly.

"Well, what about this?"

Jelanda grabbed the soup bowl and held it up for him to see.

"What is this cloudy soup? It reeks! It must be rotten!"

"That is miso soup. It's also supposed to be like that and has long been an absolute staple of Yamato cuisine."

By now, Arngrim had completely buried his face in the surface of their table and grabbed handfuls of his own hair.

"Just snip my lifeline now, Norns," he thought with burning cheeks. "Oh, if I ever let Roland speak to a customer again, I might just run myself through."

"Well, what is this, then?" Jelanda badgered.

She picked up the dish with the big-headed creatures of many tails.

"Is this some kind of monster?! What are you trying to do, make me eat baby krakens?"

"Miss, those an octopi," the manager replied.

"Some kind of demon?" Jelanda asked apprehensively.

She looked at the little things on the plate suspiciously.

"No, it's just seafaring wildlife," the manager said.

She put her hands on her hips and leaned toward the manager challengingly, a great big pout on her still-crimson face. He was not backing down, though.

"Really, now?" she asked.

"We fish them up all the time back in Yamato," he stated.

All around them, people were whispering amongst themselves about the rude, ignorant customer that had made a scene and was harassing the staff. Jelanda's ears began to pick up on it and she looked around, and even spotted plates of similar meals at other tables, which the other customers had no issue eating.

"What a rude child. She should be ashamed of herself? She should have been taught better than to shriek at the manager like that."

"Is she done throwing a tantrum yet so we get back to enjoying our meal?"

Jelanda flushed as she became very self-conscious. She reached back and began feeling around the table for one of the beverages.

"What a brat," someone muttered.

"I have never been so insulted," she carped. "And now I throat is parched!"

Her hands closed around a glass, and she raised to her lips.

"Will that be all, Miss?" the manager asked.

Jelanda threw back her head and downed the drink, and her tastebuds were immediately assaulted by an overwhelmingly bitter flavor. Her head jerked forward as she coughed, gagged, and spit whatever didn't make it down her throat back out again. The manager jumped back to avoid the droplets of liquid. He watched in utterly stupefied silence as Jelanda continued to hack and retch, at one point having to lean on the table for support.

Her head snapped up as she glared furiously at him while pointing a finger. She tried speaking, but it only came out as more coughs and chokes. Arngrim looked up and watched the glass roll around the table surface.

"What…" her voice was little more than a hoarse murmur now. Her throat felt like it was on fire. "What was that water?"

She gritted her teeth as she stomped up to the manager.

"Did you just try to poison me?" she cried.

"Oh, that was sake," Arngrim uttered aloud.

Jelanda pointed at the manager accusingly again.

"You deserve…" She was cut off by her own tongue becoming tied on the words.

She stumbled and began to feel very woozy.

"To die… a thousand…" she attempted to finish her curse.

Her vision blurred as she felt herself slip away, and then…

Thud.

Arngrim let out a long whoosh of air as he looked down at the unconscious girl. The waitress walked up beside him, holding out a piece of paper.

"Your bill, sir," she said.

Then Arngrim, unable to take it anymore, just slammed his face into the surface of the table.


A short while later, Arngrim left the Garden carrying Jelanda on his back. He had both his arms hooked under her legs and her arms crossed around his neck to keep her upright. He had her glasses tucked away in his pocket, leaving her with a loose babushka that was on the verge of falling off. He was looking sullen and feeling his wallet about 100 oth lighter than it had been before. He let out a rumbling breath as he turned back toward home from the restaurant, trying his best to ignore a handful of stares he got from people.

"From now on, I pick where I negotiate jobs. No exceptions," he quietly vowed.

He briskly walked down the street, hoping to avoid to too much attention.

"Now what I am supposed to do?" he wondered. "Ack! I shoulda made her tell me about the job while we waited for the food."

"Father…" she suddenly mumbled into his shoulder.

"No, I'm not your father," he replied.

She shifted positions, causing her babushka to come loose, revealing her long, curly hair. Arngrim noticed the motion and glanced at her. He let out a short gasp. Looking at her more closely now with her hair revealed and glasses off, he realized exactly who he was carrying.

"Jel… Princess Jelanda?" he sputtered.

"Arngrim… ten thousand deaths… not enough… for insulting father…" she mumbled in her sleep.

He slowed to a stop, letting out an "Oh," as he leaned his head back to look up at the sky.

"So that's what this is about," he muttered.

Arngrim glanced at her again, thoughtfully.

"She was right there when I insulted the king and shamed him in front of all his soldiers and servants," he realized.

He sneered slightly at the thought of the king.

"I can't stand that man," he thought.

Another round of mumbles from Jelanda got his attention. Looking at her, Arngrim felt the vindictiveness leave him, and his expression softened. He let out a long sigh that was laced with regret.

"But… no matter what kind of king lil' Joshua is, he's still the father of this girl," Arngrim let the realization come through. "How could she remain quiet when her father was made to look like a fool right front of her? The person I really offended was her. I didn't think about that at the time."

He chuckled.

"What a stubborn tomboy of a princess."

He started moving again, doing his best to keep his body still so he wouldn't shake her too much.

"Better get back so she can sleep this off. Oh, Roland is just going to love this."


"The princess?" Roland cried.

"Uh-huh," Arngrim replied.

Both men stood over Arngrim's bed, which was currently occupied by the sleeping form of Jelanda. Arngrim made another grumbling sound with his throat as he sat down in a chair next to their father's old writing desk.

"But what does she want with you?" Roland asked.

Arngrim chuckled again.

"I have an inkling," he replied.

Roland was caught between panicking and being amused.

"Only an inkling?" Roland asked. "She walked into our house in disguise to hire you for a job, and you still don't know what she wants?"

"No, I know exactly what she wants," Arngrim said.

Arngrim glanced through their door at the rest of the house.

"You don't need to stick around here. I'll watch her until she wakes up," he told Roland.

Roland's brows raised as he let out a dubious "Heh" and then hobbled out of the room.

"I hope you know what you're doing, brother," he said as a went.

Arngrim glanced over, watching him leave, and then turned his attention back to Jelanda. Her glasses and babushka both lay on the bedside dresser.

"Hmm…" he droned.


She awakened with a start. Jelanda blinked dumbly, taking a moment a really wake up and gather her thoughts. When she noticed she was surrounded by unfamiliar trappings, she tensed up.

"Where am I?" she cried.

She looked around, taking in the fact she was in some stranger's bed. Her mind was awhirl with all depraved possibilities when her eyes stopped on a nearby window.

"Oh, no, it's already dark," she gasped.

Oh, she was in for it now!

"I have to get home!"

She rolled over to climb off and found herself suddenly staring at Arngrim, who sat in a chair by an old desk near the bed. Her throat made a harsh wheezing sound as she gasped. She raised her hands to the sides of her head and… found her babushka still firmly in place. A crooked, entertained grin worked its way up Arngrim's cheek. He held out her glasses for her, which she took with shaky hands and a near inaudible "Thank you."

"So, you're awake," he said.

She slid her fake glasses back, making discreet glances down at herself. All her clothes were still in place and showed no sign they were ever removed or loosened. Her eye rolled to the side, staring at Arngrim in the corner of her vision. Had he really just sat vigilantly to watch over her while she slept off drinking that poison?

Jelanda coughed, trying not to blush.

"Just… what was it that I drank back at the restaurant?" she asked.

A single "Heh," passed Arngrim lips.

"Sake. Yamato alcohol, and pretty strong, too," he answered. "It's no surprise you passed out after one drink."

Jelanda just wanted to shrivel up and die at that point and unconsciously drew her arms up against her chest. She had to suppress a whimper in order to save some face. Then she realized she had still never told Arngrim what the "job" was.

"Oh! Is it okay if I come back tomorrow to make my offer?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure," Arngrim said with a shrug.

Jelanda nodded in acknowledgement, then climbed out of his bed and left him. The slightest of smiles betrayed her as she walked past him. Once left alone, Arngrim tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

"A job offer, huh? Probably some kind of revenge for what I did to her father," he thought wryly.

"Have a good night," he heard her say to Roland.

"Oh, good night. Be careful walking home."

Arngrim glanced in their general direction.

"When she comes back tomorrow, I'll apologize," he thought resolutely.

Outside, Jelanda glanced back at the home of the man she'd began the day hating and wanting revenge on. Her thoughts reeled as she felt her preconceived notions of Arngrim rattled.

"He… took care of me while I was out," she thought. "Just like he takes care of that little brother of his."

More doubts about her revenge tore at the edges of her mind, and she tried to shake them off as she took off at an even pace again. She'd have to think about this more later. Right now, though, she had to get home.


Elsewhere, that same evening…

"Oi, Badrach, so will ya actually be payin' t'night? Or does this go on yer tab as well?"

"Huh? Ah, shaddup, and bring me another stiff one!"

"Fine. I'll tell Master Fiskerne you ain't payin' t'night, neither."

"Just get my drink, woman!"

The serving wench grabbed the man's empty mug, setting it on the tray she carried with a bunch of others like it, and walked off. Badrach watched her leave, his eyes trailing down to her rear as she weaved her way through the tables of other rowdy guests. A lecherous smile spread across his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, inhaling deep and letting the nicotine work its magic. Then he puffed out a big cloud and watched it float away before glancing at the serving wench again as she bent over behind the bar to refill some mugs. His eyes again lingered on her posterior now that it was stuck out.

"Shit, she'd be a fine woman if she wasn't so mouthy," he muttered.

He sat forward in his seat, stretching out his back and rolled his neck. He let out a satisfied "Ah," at the crunch of several joints popping loose before he leaned back again. Badrach was a scraggly-looking man with gaunt features. The cleft of his prominent chin covered in stubble was just about the only notable feature based on his appearance. His short brown hair was kept out of his face with a gray bandana. He wore loose-fitting tan clothing. A one-shouldered leather-studded cuirass was strapped to his left shoulder. A crossbow was rested up against the chair he sat in.

He leaned his head back to look out through the window, noting the position of the moon.

"She's late," he thought, angrily.

The server set his refilled mug back down on the table. He grabbed it, pit it to my lips, and threw his head back, gulping down the mind-dulling nectar. His Adam's apple bounced up and down as he took mouthful after mouthful of the beer before finally finishing it in one go. He wiped his lips with his sleeve, letting out a pleased "Ah!", followed by a noxious belch. He laughed heartily.

"That hits the spot every time!" he cheered.

The door of the dingy little bar opened and in walked the same woman in black Lombart had spoken to the day before. She was clothed in a similar long dark gray dress and black hooded shawl as before. Only her red lips were visible under the hood. When Badrach saw her coming toward him, he recognized her on sight from the clothing.

"You're late," he said.

She pulled out a chair on the other side of the table from him and sat down, neatly folding her hands in her lap. Badrach set his mug down again.

"So, what's your offer this time?" he asked.

"It's short notice, but I need you to help another man to deliver a package," she said.

"Tch!" He scoffed with a roll of the eyes. "Are you kiddin'? Gimme a break! You're wastin' my time with that?"

"C'mon," the woman replied. "The pay is top pay."

Badrach's expression fell to one of surprise. Pleased as seeing him intrigued, she smiled.

"So, will you take it?" she asked.

He gathered himself, not yet willing to say yes.

"Dangerous cargo, I'm guessin'? Spill it. What're we doing?"

"You need not concern yourself with that," she answered. "The less you know, the better. Just know it's a special gift to an uncle, up North."

"Villnore," he realized.

They were delivering a package to Artolia's main geopolitical enemy. Now he was very intrigued.

"Is 2,500 oth agreeable?" she asked.

"5,000," he said. "My price has doubled."

"Fine. It's a deal."

"You serious?" he blurted out.

"Man, this must be a bigger deal than I coulda dreamed," he thought. "I might actually take a peek into the box just to see."

The woman in black nodded. He shook his head and raised his arms in an exaggerated shrug.

"Well, if you say so," he said.

"Good, you leave in the morning. Be at the northern gate," she instructed.

"A'right," he nodded. "By the way, just who are you teamin' me up with?"

"You'll meet soon enough."

"Hmph," he grunted.

With that, she got up and left. When she was gone, Badrach slouched in his chair, again shaking his head as he thought about that price she'd just agreed to.

"5,000 oth," he muttered. "I've never had a bigger payday."

"That mean ye'll be payin' yer tab soon?" the serving wench asked.

"Shaddup!"

His lips pulled back in a snarl of annoyance as the smirking woman walked past. He got up, and with a slight wobble headed for the exit.

"I don't know what that woman's up to," he thought. "But I could care less just as long as I get my money."


The following morning, Arngrim waited for Jelanda, but his time was running short. It was late morning and she had not returned. Within the hour, he was going to have to leave for his next real job.

"Betting she got caught up in some noble something or other," he muttered.

He fastened the last piece of his armor into place and looked himself over. He'd done everything properly. He reached up and closed his hand around the hilt of his Beast-Killer out of habit. It comforted him feeling it nearby. He let it go again and grabbed his satchel, swinging it over his shoulder. Alright, he was ready to head out and make that delivery.

Someone had dropped by last night after Jelanda had left to inform him they were hiring on a second man to assist him. He inwardly snorted, thinking he didn't need the help, but he didn't argue. He just hoped whoever it was turned out to be a decent conversationalist. A good fighter wouldn't be asking too much, either. He left the bedroom and walked past Roland, who sat painting something. Arngrim recognized the scene right away. It was them as boys with their parents, out on a hunting trip. It was the one where Arngrim had bagged his first buck.

Roland turned his head slightly to speak to Arngrim as he stood behind him.

"I don't think she's coming," he said.

"Unlikely," Arngrim agreed glumly.

He'd hoped to clear things up with her quickly, but such was life.

"She probably couldn't get out of the castle so easily again," Roland commented. "She was gone for quite a while yesterday. I'm sure she had the entire staff panicking while trying to find her."

Arngrim grinned at the mental image of the butler, maids, and other servants running up and down the whole of Castle Artolia looking for the missing Jelanda. Oh, how they must have been cross when she returned.

"I hope she doesn't cause her attendants too much trouble."

"Yeah…" Arngrim muttered.

"You're a wonderful conversationalist, brother."

"It's a gift," Arngrim replied.

He glanced through a window while he repositioned the backpack on his shoulder, absently watching people walk past in the street.

"Well, I'm heading out. I have a delivery job, so I'll be out of town for a while. Be careful how you spend the oth," Arngrim told him.

Roland set down the paintbrush and the palette, and then turned around in the stool entirely to face Arngrim.

"I will, brother. You just be careful out there," he said. "I know you and the other men did much to clear the forests of beasts very recently, but there's always more. And there's also the human element to worry about."

"Feh!" Arngrim laughed confidently.

He gave Roland a toothy grin.

"What are ya talkin' about?" he said with overwhelming confidence. "I'll be fine. Don't you worry about nothin' except this house and keeping yourself fed. I'll be back before you know it."

A slight grin formed on Roland's face.

"Of course, brother," he said.

"Anyway, I'm out," Arngrim said.

He turned away, giving Roland a wave over his shoulder.

"May the gods give you safe passage, brother," Roland said.

"The gods, eh?" Arngrim thought with amusement. "I think I can do without their blessing."

A moment later, he stepped out the front door and closed it behind him.

"North gate," he recalled being the place where he was going to meet his client and new partner. He headed toward Main Street, the most straightforward way to get to where he was going. Arngrim supposed he could have called a horse buggy, but he never minded long walks, and he was plenty early. As his boots clomped against the flagstones, he recalled when he first met the woman in black who hired him.

While negotiating the job, she'd assured him it was just a package for her uncle in Villnore. Something stunk about it, but for whatever reason, he accepted. The package wasn't due to be delivered for a while at the time, and he'd been able to take the king's job eradicating monsters in the surrounding forest in the meantime. He thought of Jelanda one last time, but was forced to shrug it off.

"Maybe I shoulda told her last night. Might have missed my chance to settle things. Well, that's I get for being nice and lettin' her think she pulled one over on me."

When he rounded the last corner, he was surprised to find he'd arrived.

"Whoa, I musta been deeper in my head than I thought."

The woman in black was waiting for him next to a horse-drawn cart with a large crate strapped down to its surface. A rough-looking man was with her.

"My partner," Arngrim realized.

The man took one look at him and grinned.

"Whoa!" Badrach exclaimed. "This is sumthin' of a surprise! So we're workin' together, eh?"

Badrach looked over at the woman in black.

"For real, how did you manage to get someone that's usually on the king's payroll for this?" he asked.

Arngrim remained silent and stone-faced as he approached Badrach and the woman. Something wasn't right about this. He stopped near the back of the cart, looking at the woman dead on. Badrach maintained a chummy look, although Arngrim doubted it was genuine.

"Aw, don't give me that," Badrach said. "The name's Badrach. Glad to meet ya, Arngrim. Heard all about ya."

Before Arngrim could ignore him again, the woman stood a quick step toward Badrach, her mouth set into a deep frown as she was likely glowering at him under that hood.

"If you must prattle on so, do it on the road," she snapped. "This cargo must be delivered."

Badrach turned to her and bowed low with his right arm crossed over his stomach like the gentleman he wasn't.

"Yes, Milady, upmost haste," Badrach said with a voice full of sarcasm.

The woman in black did not response. She just turned on her heels and walked away.

"Heh heh heh," Badrach chuckled, and looked toward Arngrim. "Well, how do ya like that? We're doin' all the dirty work and she's a bag of…"

"Let's just get going," Arngrim butted in. "Villnore is about a week's journey along the main road. With any luck, this'll be a boring trip and we'll deliver the goods intact."

"Yes, sir," Badrach said with a mock salute.

Arngrim knew right away he was going to be very annoying. He absently unshouldered his pack and tossed it into the cart next to the crate. No sense in carrying the extra weight when he didn't have to. Besides, he already saw Badrach's bag resting in there as well.

"So, ya play cards?" Badrach asked.

"I shoulda asked Kashell and Celia if those nobles were willing to hire a third blade," Arngrim thought.


"Roland! Roland, open up!"

Roland turned on his stool again.

"Lawfer?" he called back in confusion.

"Yes, 'tis I. Roland, I need to speak with you and Arngrim posthaste!"

"Hang on," Roland called.

He grabbed his crutch and made his way to the front door. When he pulled it open, Lawfer and a whole precession of knights were waiting for him. He looked around at the grim faces staring in at him. Confusion and alarm grew heavy in his chest making his heart sink.

"Lawfer, what is this? Did something happen?" Roland asked.

Lawfer's jaw tightened as he tried to find the words. He hid his worry behind a mask of impartiality while in front of the other knights.

"Roland, Princess Jelanda is missing," he said.

Roland's already fair features grew even paler as he stared in disbelief.

"Oh, Hlin, preserve them both," he thought, thinking of her and Arngrim.

"M-missing?" was all he managed.

"Yes. Missing," Lawfer answered. "There are reports of the princess walking the streets of Artolia alone yesterday, and several witnesses saw her enter your home. She never returned home last night."

Roland almost lost his footing as he felt the strength leave his good leg.

"By Thor's beard," he uttered. "We shouldn't have let her leave alone."

In response, several of the knights narrowed their eyes at him in suspicion and some in outright accusation. In that moment, Roland knew he'd spoken too much. Lawfer's mouth gaped open slightly before he shut it again. Behind the mask, fear and dread ravaged Lawfer.

"That's it. We take the little man and make him talk," a particularly rough-looking knight said.

He tried to step around Lawfer to get inside, but his commanding officer blocked him with an arm. The knight looked at Lawfer in irritated bewilderment.

"Sir?" he demanded of Lawfer.

Lawfer just looked at him coldly in the corner of his eyes.

"Stand down, soldier. We don't know anything yet."

The knight still looked doubtful. Lawfer's eyes narrowed angrily.

"That's an order," he said sternly.

The knight nodded, gave a salute, and backed off to his original position just outside the door. Lawfer stepped inside the abode and then turned to his men.

"Remain outside and watch the house," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!" came several unanimous replies.

Lawfer faced Roland again.

"So, she was here," he said. "Roland, you need to explain everything, but especially, you need to tell me where Arngrim is right now."

"Arngrim just left Artolia," Roland replied. "He's delivering a…"

The words died in his throat as he realized the implications. The last few words somehow managed to finish their journey to his lips and came out as a halted whisper.

"…A package …to Villnore."

"…and this guy was just covered in the biggest tattoos ever, like, eh, paintings. Who sits down has someone put a whole pictcha on your chest like that?"

Arngrim continued to block out Badrach's inane babble and kept a sharp eye out for trouble. It was near the end of the first day and they were making good time. However, it was getting dark, and Arngrim also scanned the passing forest for places to settle down not too far away. They wouldn't be able to keep going for much longer before it became dark and too dangerous to be caught traveling.

As he looked around, the crate entered the corner of his vision. He looked at it then, head on, and realized he'd never asked what was in it. Immediately, he reprimanded himself.

"Damn, that careless of me," he thought. "Always, always, ask what you're delivering."

He looked toward Badrach, who was still rambling on about something despite the lack of responses Arngrim had given him the entire time.

"Hey," Arngrim spoke.

Badrach grinned at him sardonically.

"So, the big man does talk after all," he said.

Arngrim chose to disregard that as well, and simply asked his question:

"Did they tell you what's in the crate?"

Badrach shrugged, leaning his head to the side.

"Nope! Didn't ask. Didn't wanna know," he answered uncaringly.

He laid his head back in his hands as he sauntered on next to Arngrim.

"I'm getting' paid plenty o' oth for this job, so I don't really care what's in the thing," Badrach said. "Eh, Mister Bodyguard?"

Arngrim turned a frustrated eye back to the road. Of course, trying to talk to this idiot had been useless. Why had he expected anything more? Badrach suddenly started grousing in stark contrast to his cheerier mood from before. This warranted a glance from Arngrim.

"That Lombart, though…" Badrach griped.

Arngrim felt his chest tighten, as trepidation set in.

"Lombart? The king's chief Councilor?" he asked.

He glanced back at the crate again, then at the road behind them, before turning to Badrach again. Arngrim grabbed the rein of the horse, pulling it to a stop.

"Hey, what the…?" But Badrach didn't get to finish that query.

Arngrim marched up and grabbed the other man by the collar of his shirt. Badrach was practically lifted from the ground with a single, forceful motion.

"Whoa! What are ya doin'?" Badrach cried.

"You mean it wasn't that agent who hired us?" Arngrim asked.

"Eh, no?" Badrach asked, a bit taken back. "Didn't ya ask any questions about this job?"

He hadn't. At least, not nearly enough, and it was beginning to occur to Arngrim just how careless he'd been with this contract.

"Shit, shit, shit," he thought. "I always make sure I know who I'm working for and what I'm doing! Just where the hell did I leave my head when I took this one?"

He dropped Badrach and hurried around the side of the cart.

"Hey, we're not supposed to open that!" Badrach shouted.

"Tough," Arngrim answered.

He was about to climb on and batter the blasted thing open when Badrach spoke up again.

"Hey, Mister Bodyguard, something's comin' up behind us."

Arngrim froze in place, listening. What he heard was the pounding of many hooves rumbling up from further back on the main road. He stood watching and not even three ticks later, the knights of Artolia rounded the bend into view.

"What?" was all Arngrim could utter.

Badrach took a step back, arms raised in fear.

"Shit, knights! They brought a whole kennel!" he exclaimed.

Arngrim backed away from the cart, uncertain of what to do in the face of the coming cavalry. There was a mountain of dust coming right at him at the center of which was a small army of horseback men. They looked to be chasing something, and under any other circumstances, Arngrim never would have imagined they'd be after them.

"Halt! In the name of the king!" the 1st officer shouted.

He quickly road up to the Arngrim and Badrach with his knights in-tow. The officer took a good look at the crate. Although his face was hidden under his helmet, Arngrim could feel his gaze the whole time.

"Surrender your cargo for inspection," the officer commanded.

Arngrim and Badrach were still rooted in place as the officer ordered two knights to identify the cargo. Wordlessly, the armored men dismounted and approached the cart.

"Hey, hold up!" Badrach yelled.

He'd taken one step forward to stop them when the officer shouted.

"Stop him!"

"Hiya!" two riders shouted as they spurred their steeds into motion.

Badrach and Arngrim were both forced to back away from the cart as the riders neared, pointing their lances at the mercenaries the whole time.

"I shoulda never taken this job," Arngrim thought.

"I will have you both struck down if either of you makes another move," the officer threatened.

"Yeesh…" Badrach muttered.

Arngrim remained silent. His eyes were on the crate. He watched as the two cavalry members cut it free of the ropes and then pried it open with their swords. The back dropped open, but since he and Badrach stood alongside the horse, he couldn't see what was inside. Nevertheless, he felt his chest tighten before the men uttered a single word about what was inside. Or, rather, who.

"Princess?"

After peering inside, one of the inspecting knights straightened and pointed an accusing hand at mercenaries.

"It's them, alright!" he shouted. "They had the princess!"

"What?" Arngrim blurted out.

He watched as the other knight withdrew from the back of the crate and stood, holding an unconscious, even dead-looking, Jelanda in his arms. Badrach's mouth dropped open, and his cigarette fell to the earth at his feet. The officer looked at the two mercs coldly and drew his sword. Both knights that investigated the crate gingerly climbed down onto the solid ground, holding Jelanda like she was a glass swan that'd break if they weren't careful.

"Screw this!" Badrach shouted.

Arngrim only barely saw him flick his arm out in an arc. What he didn't see was Badrach unleashing a bunch of small black objects into the air. So, he had no idea what was happening the little pellets loudly burst into blinding flashes of light. Winnies, yelps, and a loud crackling filled the air. Amidst the confusion, the two knights who'd discovered Jelanda shielded her unconscious body and backed away from the panicking and stamping horses, almost crossing into the tree-line.

Arngrim shielded his eyes with a hand as he tried to back away.

"Come on, already!" he just heard Badrach rasp beside him over all the chaos.

Badrach grabbed his other arm and yanked the warrior toward the edge of the road. Not knowing what else to do, Arngrim turned and followed the smaller man into the trees as best he could while trying to see through the spots in his vision. They left behind blinded and deafened knights trying to rein their horses back under control.

After several long moments of fighting their steads back into a manageable state, the officer got to work sorting out the chaos.

"Steady, man!" he ordered. "Where did those two spies go?"

"Sir, those traitors escaped into the forest! Should we go after them?"

The 1st officer glanced into the woods. He almost ordered his men to go after, but a glance at Jelanda made his stay his hand.

"No," the officer ordered.

He gestured to Jelanda, still safely held in one of the knight's arms. Her bearers still stood along the tree-line, away from the horses.

"We need to tend to the princess first," the officer said. "Set up a perimeter. We don't know who else might out here, and we cannot be caught unawares."

He looked at the man holding her and then Jelanda's serenely sleeping face.

"How is she?" the officer asked.

"She's not waking up. I think she's been drugged, or maybe under a spell," the knight answered.

The officer climbed down from his horse and went over to the man. He examined the princess, brushing the hair from her face to get a better look. She was breathing, but she was pale and limp in a way that wasn't natural. This wasn't a simple drugging.

"Ay, Lord Lombart said this might happen," the officer muttered thoughtfully.

He looked up, meeting the gaze of his subordinate.

"Looks like they put her under an enchanted sleep so they wouldn't need to take care of her along the way," he commented.

The officer turned to his squire.

"Boy, bring me that elixir Lord Lombart gave us. He said it should wake her right up."

The boy dismounted as well and began digging through the bags of supplies his mare had been burdened with. A few moments passed before he produced the small corked bottle containing just enough green fluid to fill a shot glass. It looked sickly, more like poison to his eyes, but he was in no position to question the king's chief advisor or his master.

The squire walked over, holding the elixir in one hand, and the reins of his horse in the other. He handed the elixir to the officer, who uncorked it. The 1st officer held Jelanda's head back, lightly grabbing her under the chin to open her mouth. He dripped the elixir in to avoid choking the princess and when he'd emptied it, he let go of her chin and simply watched.

Immediately, the change was noticeable, the color returned to Jelanda's face. She slowly readjusted how her head rested against the knight's armor to get more comfortable. He arms moved slightly as well as life began to return to her body. Her eyelashes fluttered then, as her eyes started to open. At first, they only half opened sleepily and unfocused. She made a soft moan as she shifted around before setting eyes on the officer.

When she realized she was waking up to the eyes of another person, her own flew wide open. She jumped in the knight's arms, crying out in surprise.

"Calm yourself, Princess, you're safe," the officer spoke soothingly.

She looked around, trembling, and when she realized she was being held, she cried out again.

"Ah, put me down!" she hollered, pushing away from the knight.

Somehow, the cavalry managed to contain any amused snickers as Jelanda scrambled out of the man's arms only to take one step before losing strength in her legs and falling into the arms of the officer. He caught her before she could fall and helped steady her. Flushing with embarrassment, Jelanda looked away, at anything else, rather than at the officer. Her turned gaze made her take in the scene. Jelanda's expression changed to worry as she realized she was in the forest outside the city.

"Wh-why am I all the way out here? What happened?" she asked anxiously.

"Those men abducted you at the behest of the Thieves' Guild," the officer replied. "We've identified one of them, a mercenary named Arngrim."

Jelanda's eyes widened.

"Arngrim? No… That can't be," she protested.

The officer blinked in surprise. Was the princess really defending him after the incident with the king.

"'Tis true, Your Majesty," he said firmly. "He and that other man had you drugged and shut up in that cart."

"What?" she mouthed.

"They were taking you to Villnore," the officer continued, gravely. "But thankfully, 1st Office Lawfer was able to track your footsteps. With Lord Lombart's assistance, we…"

"Lombart," Jelanda said loudly, interrupting the officer.

Then she seized up as the memory returned to her. She recalled almost making it back to the castle, but Lombart was waiting for her there with men.


"Lombart? What is the meaning of this? Call these men off?" she'd demanded.

"Oh, I don't think so, Princess. Now, then, just be a good girl, and… sleep."


They had seized her before she could react, and then nothing. The officer looked at her in concern as she stood frozen leaning into him, staring off into space.

"Princess?" the officer said.

The princess was still rooted in place, lost in a swirling typhoon of thought.

"Lombart. Lombart did this to me. He's a traitor, and he's back at the castle with father. No one knows. No one knows…" her thought raged. "Father! He's not safe! We have to back there quick!"

That last thought was enough to bring her out of her shocked state. Her face twisted with rage. Finding her footing again, she broke body contact with the officer and stood firm. She stepped in front of him to address the knights, crossing her arms as she looked around.

"Listen to me, I…" she stopped herself when she realized how shrill and panicked her voice was.

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed down her panic. Even in a situation like this, she was the princess, and there was a certain conduct demanded of her. She calmly reopened her eyes, taking on a collected persona.

"Knights of Artolia," she spoke loudly and clearly. "We've been betrayed, but it wasn't Arngrim. I don't know how they got him to do this, but he is innocent. The real culprit is Councilor Lombart. He and some strange men attacked and abducted me in the night."

The officer and all the knights stared in shock and began murmuring amongst themselves, shaken. They might have disregarded it, but the victim, their own princess, was the one telling them this. Satisfied she had their attention, Jelanda smiled. The only crack in her mask of authority was her shaking right arm. She stared down at it in irritation.

"Stop it, you," she thought.

But the arm did not obey and continued to quiver like it had a mind of its own. Jelanda turned her attention from it, addressing the knights again. She continued:

"Now, get me a horse. We ride back to…"

She was interrupted when her entire body convulsed out of nowhere. She coughed, holding a hand to her chest.

"Excuse me," she said, awkwardly.

The officer gave her another look of concern.

"Princess, are you alright?" he asked.

"I…" her said with a phlegmy voice.

Jelanda felt a lump growing in her throat preventing her from speaking further, and she tried clearing it to no effect. Her lips began uncontrollably jerking around. She grabbed at her face as though to try stopping it before the rest of her body also began twitching controllably.

"What is happening?" her panicked voice was shrill and scratchy.

Before she could dwell on it anymore, she threw her head and body back, leaning farther backwards than was humanly possible as her entire body broke into a full-on seizure.

"Princess!" the officer cried.

He grabbed her shoulders to straighten her, but before he could even try, the princess's body whipped back upright on its own. Acting on its own, her right arm reached out and the officer by the throat. His eyes bulged behind his visor when he saw her hand had somehow grown several times in size with skin that began to redden into a dark crimson with bulging, pulsating veins and muscle. Then he felt a sudden sharp pain about his neck, and then nothing.

Jelanda only barely comprehended what happened before she was splattered across the face with some kind of liquid. She looked up and screamed in horror, beholding her now monstrous, hulking red arm clutching the freshly beheaded body of the officer. She didn't get to stare long before her body erupted into burning, throbbing pain, like it was being torn apart.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream, but another round of throbbing pain forced out a wail. She then rose into the air and found herself staring over the bloody neck stump of the officer at the horrified knights behind him. It was all Jelanda could do to wrest enough control over her twisting and warping body to look down.

"No, not rising, I'm growing!" she realized in horror.

Tears ran down Jelanda's face as she broke down, and she screamed again, louder than she ever thought possible.

"Father… Arngrim…. It hurts! Please, help me! Save me!" she begged.

"It, ah! It's a monster!" a knight shouted in terror.

Jelanda let out a series of short, agonized and terrified screams when she saw three claws punch through her shoes before they tore open altogether revealing red three-toed bestial feet.

"Slay the beast!" one knight shouted, taking out his sword.

"But that's the princess!"

"Not anymore!"

Some of the knights charged and her body responded without her input. The vessel in which she now only rode hurled the officer at the nearest rider. He was knocked clean off his norse. The other riders kept charging, lances out. As her clothes became tighter and tighter, her still changing body again moved on its own, slashing the two nearest lances to splinters before they could puncture her.

"No, stop!" her begged her body.

Her massive arms grabbed a panicking horse by the neck and swung it around like a club, batting the riders and steeds and sending them flying. She then hurled the now-dead equine at the remaining horse-mounted knights, slamming into several of them and sending them sprawling. The others scattered before her.

She didn't notice her clothes burst open, revealing the bulky, red, inhuman body with rippling muscles. Only her head still looked human, and far too small for the demon she was becoming. Spikes and wings burst from her back, but her gaze was on the riders and dead horses as they tried to scramble away or regroup. One man was still facedown on the ground, pinned beneath his own steed.

The demon-body pounced, bringing its huge fist down on the man's body, crushing his upper body in several places at once. He cried out once, and then fell still and silent.

By now her neck was expanding and growing longer, and around the base of her skull, lips formed around the rim of the stretching crimson neck. The lips then began expanding and working their way upwards, swallowing her head like a python swallows its prey. Her screams and peas were finally silenced when the mouth closed around Jelanda's face, revealing the two-horned head of a ghoul. Her muffles cries continued behind its lips only a moment longer before she was completely swallowed into the entity.

On the newly born monster head, two massive, serpentine eyes stared at the remaining knights as arrows harmlessly bounced off its thick hide. A few lucky shots could only pierce it enough to do superficial damage. The creature's lips parted again, revealing two rows of sharp teeth. It roared at the knights before changing in and sweeping away the front row of horse riders like they were mere straw-filled scarecrows.


"Time to see how my little gift to Lombart turned out."

Lezard set a large wooden bowl down on the table in front of him and then poured in water from a pitcher, filling it two-thirds of the way. He stared down into the swashing surface of the liquid as he waved his hand over it. Its passage stirred the water under his gloved fingers as he chanted a quick spell. The water began to glow bright colors, which formed into the scene of Jelanda with the cavalry out in the woods.

He watched her stagger, seize, and then transform into the demon. Lezard smiled in triumph as the hulking beast emerged in place of the princess and laid waste to the knights. He pushed his glasses back to the ridge of his nose as he watched intently, grinning madly.

"Good, good," his voice was just above a whisper.

He watched in sick delight as newly born beast crushed the head off a knight and then threw his own body at his comrades. Lezard's eyes flashes at the power the thing had created. He also noted the lack of blemish on its skin and that it had no deformities.

"A perfect transformation. Finally," he uttered, quite pleased.

He smiled, nodding his head at his handywork.

"I finally perfected the mixture. No more meager Undeads or half-formed failures."

His eyes grew tense and maniacal.

"And once we've started the war between Artolia and Villnore, the dead bodies will pile up and I will have an ever-growing supply for my experiments," he said. "You really do have my thanks, Chancellor Lombart."


"Looks like we hafta wait 'til night and run."

Arngrim again remained silent in response to Badrach's words. For his part, he didn't know how he'd be able to clear his name after this, and just hoped it wouldn't reflect badly on Roland.

"At least this whole scheme was stopped dead in its tracks before something truly awful happened," Arngrim thought.

That served as something of a comfort to him.

They'd run a good distance through the trees and brush, and were crouching behind an old, great tree with a trunk large enough to hide them both from view. Badrach hmph'd as he scooted back against the tree more. He spoke angrily, in a low, grating voice:

"Damn that Lombart! He totally screwed this!"

Arngrim's face twisted in anger.

"You filthy…" he snarled. "You knew!"

Fear registered on Badrach's face and he held up both hands as if to ward off the large warrior.

"No, I didn't know what was IN the damn thing," he asserted urgently.

Arngrim stood, towering menacingly over the thief, hand on the sheath of his blade.

"Explain what you did know. Now," Arngrim ordered in a low, dangerous voice.

"Okay, okay!" Badrach's voice quivered as he cowered.

Droplets of sweat formed on his skin, knowing his next words either saved or killed him.

"It's just that my, uh… client was Lombart, like always, and…" he babbled.

"Why is he working with Villnore?" Arngrim asked.

"Lombart's a Villnore spy," Badrach answered. "Has been since before he got hired to advice the king."

"Since before…?" Arngrim uttered.

His lips pulled back, baring his teeth again as the rage bubbled up in his chest.

"The bastard was born in Artolia," he rasped.

"Nobody was s'posed to know what was in the crate, man!" Badrach said. "If Villnore had gotten ahold of the princess, they'd have had Artolia in the palm of their hand."

Right then, Arngrim would have been quite happy to kill the stinking knave in front of him. However, he glanced back in the direction they'd come from, towards Jelanda and the soldiers. Killing Badrach could wait. At the moment, he had more important things to do. He had to somehow get home and check on Roland. How, though? Before he could think on this more, a voice called through the forest.

"Father… Arngrim…. It hurts! Please, help me! Save me!"

Arngrim went completely still. Jelanda's agonized pleas tore through him like an ax. Within a second, the air was filled with the shouts and screams of several men, the panicked whinnies of horses, and loud noises, almost like thunder. Both mercenaries were staring in the direction of the main road now.

"What is…?" Badrach croaked.

They peered around the side of the tree, and then ran keeping low until they returned to the scene of the crime. When they both reached the peak of a small hill just behind the side of the road, they were dumbfounded by what they saw. Dead knights, blood, and viscus littered the ground as the last few survivors either rode or limped past in headlong retreat from a large red winged beast that was currently busying itself beating what vaguely looked like the pulverized remains of a man against the ground.

"What the hell is that thing?" Badrach asked with a voice full of terror.

A knight stumbled and fell to the ground next to them. As he picked himself up, he noticed the two men peering tensely at the beast.

"He-help us!" he begged.

Without taking his eyes off the monster, Arngrim addressed the knight.

"Just what the Hel happened? Where's the princess?" he demanded.

The knight looked between the ghoul and him before answering with a cracking voice.

"The princess was under a sleep spell, so we gave her an elixir we got from Lombart to wake her up, and then… and then…"

He pointed with a trembling hand at the giant red monster as it took a bite out of a dead soldier.

"She turned into that…" he said.

Arngrim and Badrach looked at him in shock before their heads turned sharply back towards the beast.

"Ghoul Powder," Arngrim breathed.

Badrach glanced his way, visibly afraid.

"Yer right. That's exactly what happens when somebody takes that stuff," he replied.

Arngrim had only ever heard of it before, but Ghoul Powder was supposed to turn people into howling demons. It was virtually undetectable, so if someone could slip it into your drink or food, you'd turn and a lot of people would die before anyone even knew what happened.

"Lombart's a Necromancer?" Arngrim asked, more himself than anyone else.

Then it clicked.

"Lombart's playin' two hands," Arngrim realized. "That bastard knew the abduction would be discovered, and so he slipped some ghoul powder into the elixir he sent with the search party."

The scheme was clear as glass in Arngrim's head now. If they'd made it all the way to Villnore, no problem. However, if they were discovered, the knight cavalry would use the elixir to undo the sleep spell when they caught up with the cart. Then the ghoul powder would take effect and the princess became a monster. The newly born ghoul would kill everyone, including those who could finger Lombart as the culprit.

"Maybe even the princess, too," the thought finished in Arngrim's mind.

"I'm outta here," Badrach said.

The mercenary backed away, and then fled into the forest. Arngrim glared after him, but he didn't have time to give chase. He turned toward the ghoul again, knowing what he had to do.

"Jelanda. Sorry I failed you, kid," he thought.

He stepped onto the road, past the cowering knight, and began walking toward the ravenous beast. He reached up, gripping the hilt of his massive sword.

"Maybe that coward made the right call runnin' away. I don't know," he thought bleakly.

His eyes narrowed at the ghoul as it feasted on more remains, with its backed turned to him. He could clearly see the spikes sticking out of its back. Its winged were folded back. It was unlikely he could climb on and behead it quickly with such natural protection. Arngrim's face remained a stone mask, devoid of the usual joy he'd find on the battlefield.

"But I'm not going to run," Arngrim said aloud.

He'd never felt like this before. Battle was his greatest joy, but this was different. This wasn't for his own enjoyment anymore. Not the money, or the glory, none of it. He pulled his sword free of its sheath and gripped the hilt in both hands, ready for the fight.

"Lombart… I'm going to kill you," he vowed.

Lezard smirked as he watched the mere human warrior dare to step up to the ghoul.

"Oh, I hope my ghoul leaves him mostly intact. I could probably fashion a half-decent homunculus servant out of him."

Lezard chuckled and leaned forward. He was going to enjoy watching this fool get himself killed.

"Wait, what's this?"

The smile faded from his face quickly, because then he sensed something powerful approaching the battlefield.

"What power is this?" he wondered.

At last, the ghoul finally noticed Arngrim and turned, rising onto its hind legs. It let out a challenging roar, showing off its mouthful of teeth and holding up its massive claws.

"But—" Arngrim added somberly. "What will become of that girl? Can she be saved?"

The memories of the previous day flooded his mind, and he knew at once he couldn't leave Jelanda like this. He turned his sword over, preparing to make his first attack.

Before he could charge, a burst of light shined before his eyes, stopping both him and the beast. From it, a woman with a long silver braid in elegant blue plate armor appeared. He saw the helmet with plumage upon it, and realized just what he was witnessing.

"A V-Valkyrie?"

Both he and Lezard who watched from afar were taken back at the beauty before them.

She spared Arngrim only the quickest of looks before facing the ghoul. She held out her own sword toward the abomination, issuing her challenge to it.

"I've found them, and… something else. Something that is just extruding dark energy."

Lenneth Valkyrie looked over her shoulder at her companions as they flew behind her through the air.

"You sense it, too?" she asked.

Freya and Loki both nodded, and they quickened pace over the roof of the forest.

There was finally a break in the trees, and the three beheld the ghoul just as it was finishing its rampage. They saw Arngrim and Badrach stopped alongside the road. The two Aesir and the Jötunn were unseen by the eyes of mortals and beast alike. Lenneth Valkyrie looked down on the scene, taking sword in hand as she eyed the beast. She glanced at the mercenaries as they briefly spoke with the fleeing knight before turning back to her prey.

"Will you be joining me in this battle?" Lenneth asked her companions.

Beside her, Freya had been studying the surviving men intently, trying to parse out who was Lenneth's chosen. Loki had his eyes on the beast.

"Nay," Freya answered. "We are only here to advice and observe, and we will only intervene if necessary."

Lenneth regarded her with an unreadable expression for a moment before finally nodding.

"So, I take it the big fellow is on the menu?" Loki asked.

Lenneth did not answer at first. She had to willfully pry her eyes from the ghoul to look at Arngrim. He was like his blade, sharp and ready to fight. The other man who had been with him had already fled back into the woods. Arngrim had stepped out onto the road. Her eyes did not linger on him, again turning to the beast.

"Not just him," she answered.

"Then who?" Loki asked.

Lenneth pointed with her sword toward the ghoul.

"The soul trapped inside," she answered.

Meanwhile, disbelief crossed Freya's features as she saw Arngrim emerge from the trees.

"That man…" she murmured.

But Lenneth had already descended to begin battle.

In the present, Lenneth shouted at the ghoul:

"Have at thee, cursed thing!"

The ghoul pounded the earth with its fists, roaring a threat at the death goddess who'd dared jump in between it and its prey. Lenneth, however, was undaunted by the monstrous creature, and responded by sliding one booted foot out into a lower stance.

When the beast pounced at her, she flew to the right just before it crashed into the earth where she'd been. Arngrim couldn't even follow her with his eyes. To him, it seemed like she'd just disappeared in a blur. The ghoul roared again and held up its clawed hand to strike, but not at him. A gray and blue streak zipped in from the right, and the red beast jumped back just as the shape reached it. It slowed just enough for Arngrim to see it was the Valkyrie, slashing at the diablo. She'd just missed. She leapt into the air in full pursuit of her enemy and for another attack, but the beast blocked with one of its massive arms. To Arngrim's surprise, she actually drew blood and the ghoul growled painfully before retaliating with a back-handed swipe. A dome of light shaped like a shield formed around the goddess, taking the full force of the fiend's fist. The Valkyrie was still knocked back, but was unharmed.

She tumbled backward through the air for a moment before catching herself with a backflip. She righted herself before landing next to Arngrim. She hit the earth, feet-first, but dropped onto her knees and a hand to spread out the impact. She'd kept hold of her sword the entire time.

She took one look at Arngrim, appearing impassive.

"Leave while you can, mortal. This foe is beyond you," she said.

She stood and reassumed the battle stance.

"Wait," Arngrim said. "That monster, it was human. Can you help her?"

The ghoul was in front of them on all fours pawing at the ground with its hind legs like a bull about to charge.

"She cannot be restored," Lenneth answered him. "The only thing anyone can do is free her soul."

That last comment cut him, deeper than he imagined.

"Fine," he thought as those words weighed heavily on his heart. "If death is the only way to save her, then I have to do it."

The battle-maiden looked at Arngrim in the corner of her eye again.

"Last warning, you should leave this battle, human," she said.

Arngrim 'hmph'd' and raised his sword to the ghoul.

"Not a chance," he replied resolutely.

The beast was about to change. It was now or never to incorporate him into her strategy.

"Perhaps the perfect time to test him, then," she thought.

"Bank left," Lenneth ordered.

Arngrim's glanced at her in the corner of his eye, and he nodded with a soft grunt. Having reached that understanding, both combatants lowered their stances slightly and braced to move quickly.

Like a shot, the beast rushed them on all fours. They in turn sprang forward, veering further apart and charging it from both the right and the left. The beast zeroed in on Arngrim as the more vulnerable target and lunged at him in a tackle. It expected him to reel back, making it easier to pin him down and tear him apart, but instead, Arngrim dove forward, throwing himself down into a roll. The ghoul flew over him and landed just behind him as Arngrim's momentum brought him up onto his knees. Both opponents righted themselves and turned at the same time to attack the other.

The ghoul howled, withdrawing a bloodied hand. The surprised beast actually backed up a step when Arngrim came in quickly for a second strike. The beast stopped, sensing the Valkyrie behind it. It spun around, lashing out with its tail to kill Arngrim, but the warrior swung his sword to parry the attack. With a powerful slash, he cut deeply into its tail. The impact was powerful enough that Arngrim stumbled back a few paces, but forced himself to a stop so he could attack again.

The ghoul had a split second to react to Lenneth as she flew at it through the air with her blade raised up over her shoulder. It punched at her with a right hook, which she dove under by dropping to the ground in front of it. Behind it, Arngrim had recovered, and he leapt forward, throwing all his weight into his thrust as he stabbed straight forward from his left shoulder into the ghoul's lower back.

The demon shrieked in pain, and Lenneth used the distraction to surge straight up towards the creature's face. It managed to reel back just enough to avoid getting stabbed in the neck, and instead Lenneth's blade slashed it across the side of its face and cut deep into its right eye.

It stumbled back, clutching its face and screaming in an almost human-like voice as blood poured out between its fingers. Lenneth dropped back down, drawing her sword to the side for another blow. She weaved around a futile blind swing from one of the ghoul hands and cut it deep across the chest. Behind it, Arngrim struck it across the backs of its legs, severing its tendons. With another howl, the brute fell onto its knees. Its own momentum forced it further down, and it had to support itself with its hands. In the same moment it came down, Lenneth's sword thrust up, impaling it through the throat and out the back of the neck just below the skull, shattering several vertebrae.

The beast froze from the shock. Lenneth withdrew, flying backwards and pulling her sword free in the same motion. The colossal thing's knees and elbows first shook and then gave out. It fell facedown onto the ground. Lenneth stood back as Arngrim walked around the side of the ghoul and looked down, staring into its eyes. The monster was gone, and its yellow eyes became human again.

Arngrim saw a scared, childlike blue-eyed gaze meeting his own. He knew at once it was Jelanda again. He stabbed his sword into the ground beside him and crouched down on his knees next to her. He reached out and put a comforting hand on the side of her head. It moves its lips as though trying to speak. He spoke to her in the gentlest voice he had ever mustered in all his years.

"Don't try to speak. It's okay. It's over now. Don't be afraid. You're free now. Sleep."

Tears ran down Jelanda's face one final time before her eyes rolled up into her head and the mutated body went completely still. When the air was expelled from her lungs, she did not breath any back in this time. She was gone. Arngrim closed his eyes regretfully, bowing his head.

The sound of something being dragged over the ground made him open his eyes again. The ghoul was shrinking. He glanced toward the Valkyrie, looking for an explanation, but she had disappeared. He made a choking sound with his throat as he looked around frantically for her before continuing the watch the change that was coming over the ghoul with caution.

Its claws retracted and slowly turned back into fingernails. Its tail grew shorter and shorter, as did the spikes on its back as well as of its wings. The red skin lightened until it returned to its original fair hue. Before long, it had reverted into the form of Jelanda, lying dead and naked upon the road. Arngrim turned his eyes away and looked for something to wrap her body in. He spotted his discarded backpack next to the destroyed cart and ran over. He opened it and after rifling around inside for a moment, he pulled out the blanket he'd been intending to use on the trip. He returned to Jelanda's side and wrapped her body in it.

As he covered her, the thought about how avoidable the whole thing had been. It kept gnawing at his mind until it finally spilled out in a guilt-ridden confession.

"This is my fault."

A new anger burned in him, one against himself. His body shook as he cursed himself under his breath.

"I had every opportunity to stop and demand to know what… who was in that crate."

He set the now wrapped body down on the ground and sat beside it, trying to collect himself. Instead, all that happened was he became even angrier. He slammed his knuckles against the dirt, shaking his head in disbelief at his own carelessness and the consequences it had wrought. He'd known that agent was shifty and suspicious, same as that 'partner' they'd brought in at the last minute. Everything about that job had stunk, and he'd ignored every warning sign. Now the fruits of his labors lied next to him, bleeding through the blanket she was wrapped in.

"Battle has always been my greatest joy," he mused. "Sparks, the light born in the clash when two blades meet. They're my spark of life. I never feel more alive than when I'm going toe-to-toe with someone aiming to take me down. The thrust of the blade into their flesh and then seeing them lie dead before me and knowing I'm the better warrior."

He looked down at the still figure next to him again.

"But this…" he rasped.

This was first time remorse for what he'd done on the field of battle not only hit him, but it wracked his entire being. He'd helped the Valkyrie kill a child, even if it was to free her.

"You think it foolish, brother, because you are content with what you already have," Roland's words again haunted him like an angry spirit.

"That's not it," he thought in response. "Through the misfortunate of my fallen foes, I felt myself to be strong."

That thought was followed by an ugly revelation.

"That's right… I am myself without morals. Who the Hel am I to judge others? Who am I to look down on them?"

From the frankness of these questions, he could only discern one answer.

"I was wrong," he said. "I'm no different from that king."

He climbed to his feet and picked up Jelanda, cradling her in his arms.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said in a low voice.

He swallowed before continuing.

"You may not have been a warrior," he said. "These are the only dues to the dead I know how to give."

He bowed his head, closing his eyes again.

"Lo, there do I see my Mother," he said in prayer. "Lo, there do I see my Father. Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. Lo, there do they call to me. They bid me take my place among them, in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may be forever."

After a moment of silence, his eyes slowly opened again, and he looked back at the road to Artolia. He started walking back toward home, carrying Jelanda in his arms. Taking her back so she may be granted her proper funeral rites was all he could do now. That, and kill the bastard who'd done all this.

"Lombart…" he said through clenched teeth.


Lenneth, Freya, and Loki watched him leave, still invisible to mortal eyes. Only now Lenneth held a shimmering orb of white in her hands. She looked away from the departing warrior and down at the soul of the princess.

"Rescued soul, I choose thee," she said.

She drew the little soul to her breast and took it into her being. The Valkyrie's body became translucent as the princess was accepted as an einherjar. Large, shimmering transparent swan wings appeared on Lenneth's back. Sparkling lights shot out from the plumage and began to take the form of a human behind Lenneth. In a moment, the figure became Jelanda and she set foot onto the ground. She appeared the same as she always had with the exception of her clothes, which were now more appropriate for outdoor activity than her purple dress from before. The princess come einherjar now wore knee-high lace-boots and black leggings paired with a purple tunic that went halfway down her thighs which was tied shut with a black leather belt with an iron buckle. A waist-length red cape was tied around her shoulders.

When the goddess turned to face her new chosen slain, Jelanda was shaking. The teen hugged herself as she stared at the goddess with tear-stained eyes. Lenneth was not surprised to see the girl in this state after what she'd just endured.

"Jelanda, princess of Artolia," Lenneth said with authority. "I am the battle-maiden Valkyrie. You have been chosen to serve Lord Odin in Valhalla."

"L-lady Valkyrie," Jelanda replied softly.

The princess seemed to remember herself and bowed before Lenneth on both knees. While the silver-maned goddess remained impartial, both Freya and Loki looked on this first chosen slain very critically.

"I d-don't know why you chose me," Jelanda said as she kneeled. "But please… you must save Arngrim! They'll think he did all this and kill him!"

Freya sniffed disdainfully at this mortal who would dare tell the gods what they 'must' do. Before she could put the human in her place, Lenneth looked to her, holding up a hand. A look passed between the two goddesses as Lenneth silently asked her Matron to let her handle this. Freya's eyes narrowed, but she backed off, crossing her arms and turning up her nose at the human soul before them. Lenneth discreetly sighed in relief as she turned back to Jelanda. Loki wore an amused half-smirk the entire time.

The goddess and princess's eyes met.

"Save?" Lenneth asked without a hint of sympathy. "How do you think he might be saved?"

"Uh…" Jelanda struggled to find the words. "I… I…"

"By being allowed to continue to live?" Lenneth inquired critically.

Then the Valkyrie put a hand to her blue chest-plate.

"Or by being chosen by me?"

Jelanda swallowed, having no answer to that.

"Arngrim has also been chosen," Loki said.

Lenneth looked down the trail where the man had already disappeared beyond the horizon on his trek back to Artolia.

"Yes," Lenneth replied. "His might as a warrior will serve Valhalla well."

Jelanda made a noise like she'd just been punched. They discussed him as though he were meat at the market.

"He's quite strong for a human," Freya said.

She found herself having to agree with Lenneth's assessment. However, his confession over the girl's body had been disconcerting.

"Though his spirit will need a lot of work," Freya said. "You know better than even I it takes more than strength alone to be an einherjar, Lenneth."

The Valkyrie's expression was again unreadable.

"So…" Loki chimed in. "Any other chosen in the province?"

"Possibly," Lenneth replied. "But…"

She looked toward Artolia, thoughtfully. She sensed other promising, strong spirits scattered throughout the region.

"None are ready yet," she said.

"But this one is?" Freya's hard gaze was on Jelanda like the judge to the convicted.

"Perhaps not," Lenneth replied.

She regarded her first einherjar of this era. Jelanda could not make out what she was thinking. The cool expression betrayed nothing.

"Flowers bloom," The Valkyrie then stated. "On my watch, you will become much more than a novice mage, human."

Not knowing how else to reply, Jelanda just bowed to her again.

"Yes, Lady Valkyrie," she said.


Lezard sat in thought at what he'd just witnessed. In front of him on the table the bowl still sat, though the spell which had shown him the far off events had worn off.

"That woman…" he whispered.

A longing grin crossed his lips.

"Even through my limited view of her, she had such beautiful hair," he thought. "And noble eyes."

Oh, how he'd wanted to just reach out and touch her through the water's surface, to hold her with his own hands. A bead of sweat rolled down his face as images of her danced in his head.

"So elegant, so regal in that armor and battle skirts," he muttered amorously. "But I'd like to gaze upon the figure under all that metal with another look gracing her features."

He imagined her bare, demure and, pressed beneath himself. However, he quickly tore himself from these fantasies because he'd also noticed something else.

"The ring she wore," he recalled. "The one and only Nibelungen Ring, the band of destiny. It's been thought lost for centuries."

He smiled wryly.

"Of course, it figures the gods had it. Something else to add to Odin's collection of precious things," he said.

He expression turned sourer for a moment.

"Hoarding all the best things in the Nine Realms for themselves, including treasures such that ring, and…"

His thoughts again turned to the silver-haired battle-maiden.

"Her. I must see her again, and in person."

He knew where she'd be.

"After the incident with my ghoul, they'll all be off to see that idiot Lombart."

He stood and departed the room. As he left through the door, the outline of a plan began to form in his mind.