Solem

 

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Introduction

A lovely thank you to my friends who encouraged me to keep working on this story, even when I wanted to give up and play video games. 

Solem was written during NaNoWriMo 2015, however I had been working on the story since around 2014 when I was away for college. Solem is certainly something I found myself incredibly devoted to, the inspiration from the story drew from a simple story I had read on Aztec mythology. The story on how the sun was created is quite an interesting story; it spoke of how the gods created the sun, and the attempts that were made to create what is our sun today. I decided to write up a small story about gods creating the sun, which then lead to Solem here.

Thank you for reading this! Pardon any errors, and I hope you enjoy. 

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Chapter 1: Louvel

      It has been an onerous three days from leaving the capital of Marchȃtel.

      Louvel feels wrung out, he hasn't slept for the past three days and knew that the other men were feeling the wear by now. All those cheerful songs and merriment ended on the second day.

      Lieutenant Colonel Abelin had finally stopped the men near Silverdrop Pond and decided to set camp there. They were close enough from the border that they were able to see the Triw mountains looming in the distance. Louvel had finished setting up his tend, he decided to look up at the Triw Mountains. The Soika Empire was protected by the Triw Mountains; they bordered the southern area of the empire, treacherous to climb unless one took the many roads that were built in order to safely go through.

      "You know, I heard that those mountains are home to the Shadowkin. They live in seclusion up there where their underground cities once existed" a voice drew Louvel out of his gaze. He turned to face Henri standing there without his armor and dressed in more casual clothes.

      Louvel frowned at the sight, "You should wear your armor Your Highness. It's been dangerous these past few days."

      Henri chuckled, "Louvel stop being so formal with me. We're safe for now, and besides that my armor is being repaired right now. Too many dents" he told Louvel before sitting next to him.

      "I wonder what it's like to live up there though. Must be awfully lonely."

      "If they're still alive" Louvel said. Shadowkin haven't been seen in years, they stay up in the mountains, no one has seen or heard of a Shadowkin for so long many believe that they are all dead.

      "I doubt that," Henri responded "they are elves after all. Blessed with long lives; there are probably a few still lingering up there."

      He doubted that, but he didn't voice his opinion. Instead he looked and couldn't help but admire the clear blue skies. They were a deep blue shade with small puffs of clouds. At night the sky was magical; the sky turns black and stars lights the sky, auroras painting the sky in beautiful colors that made him stop the first time and look up at awe. The further north they went the more auroras one would be able to see.

      "The sky is beautiful today" he said.

      Henri looked up. "This kind of weather is meant for beautiful things. Events where we celebrate life and the joys life can bring. Not war. I've always imagined rain when battle begins. Not beautiful sunny weather where one should be making memories" he brushed his pale hair and turned to Louvel, "what if the sky turned red?"

      "I would be concerned then. Red skies are always a bad omen, or at least my mother has told me."

      Henri chuckled, "Yes, a red sky brings means too much blood has spilled that the gods mourn for them. At least, that's the story. Given this war the skies should be stained red permanently."

      Louvel carefully laid a hand over Henri's, "Then this land will forever be a bad omen. This war has taken a lot of lives, but let us be thankful that we are able to save lives as well. That's what matters to me. At least we can enjoy this weather. We don't have to worry about the rain rusting our armor or getting us sick."

      Henri exhaled, "I thought I was the optimist?"

      "You are, but even an optimist has doubts."

      Henri scratched his cheek and frowned, "Let's go to the pond. I've been wanting to shave this damn hair on my face. How do the other men handle beards? They’re too itchy.”

      Louvel couldn't help but snort though. Barely any hair had grown on Henri's face. It couldn't even be considered a beard.

      "Alright, I'll go with you.” Despite the desire to simply lay down and sleep he still had a job to do. Being Henri’s bodyguard and friend he had two jobs; protect Henri and be there for him.

      He helped Henri up and looked around to make sure no one noticed the two of them. There was still a growing fear in Louvel's mind, a fear which Henri has tried to assure him is nothing. Louvel is paranoid, trained to be the sworn protector of Prince Henri Gardet-Édouard with his life. He would happily sacrifice his life for Henri's, not just because Henri is someone he had to protect. He loved Henri. He is much more than a friend and Louvel had to make sure no one knew about their little romance.

      Henri is going to have to marry though. Marry a woman in order to keep his bloodline running, keep an heir to the empire.

      They arrived to the pond, surprised to find that no one has gone there to bathe yet. Silverdrop Pond is a small body of water that had clear blue water that during the winter would freeze over and allow mages to make light shows for the children. During the warm seasons the pond didn’t gain much visitors except for the few animals and occasional travelers.

      Henri approached the edge and kneeled down to dip his hand in the pond, put pulled it back. "Icy cold. I guess that was a given considering we're up north" he stated and pulled out something from his pocket. It was wrapped in cloth, and when Henri unwrapped it Louvel saw that it was a razor. It wasn't made from simple iron or steel. The razor itself was made from silver with fine etching that was clearly meant for royalty.

      "Why do you own a razor? You hardly grow any hair" Louvel said, scratching his own chin where he can feel his own stubble.

      Henri looked down at the pond and dipped his hand again, this time he didn't flinch. Louvel watched as Henri's hand began to glow a deep amber color which slowly seeped out of his skin. The water around him slowly began to steam up. Finally, the glowing faded and Henri scooped up some water and splashed it on his face.

      "Much warmer. The razor was a present from my uncle, if you must know" he said, handing the razor to Louvel. "Isn't there a rule that says to not use magic for meaningless things?" Louvel asked, carefully using the razor on Henri. Henri didn't speak, he simply hummed and stilled as Louvel began to carefully remove the hair from his chin. "I heard that magic shouldn't be used so carelessly, but then I was never gifted with magic. I don't know much about magic to begin with."

      He saw that Henri shot him a glare along with a small hum of disapproval.

      "I know I shouldn't speak like that," Louvel paused and dipped the razor in the pond "I'm just tired. We have been traveling for three days and I feel my legs are ready to collapse" he said. He tried his best to stop his hand from trembling, exhaustion was eating him away but Louvel had his job to do. Sleep can come later, especially with Abelin placing Louvel on night watch.

      Henri carefully reached out and pulled Louvel's hand away, "The lieutenant has been pushing you too hard. It's clear he dislikes you, although I'm not sure why since you do everything he tells you. Let me talk to him, I have power over him after all."

      "I don't mind being pushed. He has good intentions. I'm sure of it" Louvel said, of course they both knew the real reason behind it. Louvel wasn't the first Dujardin to become a knight, and Abelin had been the one who tracked down his father in order to drag him to Obsidian Tower. Abelin thinks that Louvel will become like his father, and that means Louvel is being punished for his father's sins.

      The only reason why Louvel was able to join to ranks of a knight and become Henri's guard was out of pity.

      "What if he pushes too hard he might hurt you? Or worse?" Henri whispered, silver eyes looking at Louvel in concern as he plucked the razor from Louvel's hand and set it on a tree stump. "You mean a lot to me Louvel, and if the lieutenant pushes you to the brink that your health is in question—I will voice my opinion on the matter. I will make sure he is reported for it.”

      Louvel exhaled, "Don't use your power over Abelin over something like that. Use that power for something else, like winning the people over so that when you become a king you can finally put a stop to this dreadful war."

      "I only hope this war ends before I become heir" Henri mumbled.

      "This war has become pointless now Henri, something that has corrupted the minds of our leaders. To them this war is their life now. I want you to change that when you become heir. Don't allow this war to change your life. Show the people the injustices of this, war should never be an option."

      Too many people die.

      Money is spent. Food is sparse, and people die. Knights, citizens, children...Louvel can still remembered when they arrived at the small village to find it burned down with bodies littered. Children whose eyes were opened and filled with terror haunts Louvel to this day.

      Henri had sobbed that day. Typically Henri was someone who rarely allowed himself to cry, but when he saw those bodies he had crumbled to his knees and sobbed for them, mourned for the lives that were taken.

      "Can I really be the leader the people of our empire need?" Henri asked, doubt laced in his voice. "The people of the Auclair Empire need someone who is strong, someone who is able to pull them out of this difficult time. Could I provide that to my people? Could I really bring peace in this land and stop this dreadful war before it destroys everything?"

      What a foolish question. Louvel can understand Henri's doubt; it was foolish of him to doubt though. Henri will make a wonderful king. Henri is smart, understanding, and will always do what's good for the empire and its people. Merith needs someone like Henri to come into power and stop this war. Someone who can voice their concern and begin a path that will hopefully lead to peace.

      "Is all the hair gone?"

      Louvel snorted, "There was hardly any hair to begin with, here let me check" he pulled Henri's chin up and ran his hand on his chin. Smooth, as always.

      "Hmm, well you're fine."

      "Good. Now your turn."

      Louvel took a step back, "What?"

      "You heard me. You need to shave as well. The beard is irritating when I’m trying to kiss you."

      He regretted getting attached to the stupid hair on his chin now.

      Henri laughed, "Oh don't pout at me like that. If you want to keep it it's fine, but the beard just makes you look...older. You don't really look like you with it."

      "Oh?" Louvel tilted his head "And what do I look like?"

      "A knight."

      There was a look in Henri's eyes that made him rethink that statement. A knight. That's what Louvel is. He trained for it, has dreamed of that life ever since he was a boy and listened to his father speak of the countless places he's been. A knight is someone who swears their live to their empire, and Louvel…wasn't that.

      He is a bodyguard, he swore his life to a person, not an empire.

      They gazed at each other for too long, enough that if someone walked in they will certainly see what is stirring between them.

      Louvel is the first to look away, he reached out and grabbed the razor from the tree stump, "Okay, but only because I don't like this thing.”

      That was a lie, but the smile Henri gave him was well worth it. His mother did say love meant sacrifices.

      He dipped the razor in the pond before speaking softly, "Chin up."

      Louvel did, and felt the razor on his chin.

      He was always guarded, careful on sharp things near his neck. The neck was too fragile; a blade can easily cut his neck and cause him to bleed out. Place enough pressure and you can break the neck, the outcome of course being death.

      They sat in a comfortable silence, Henri shaving Louvel who stared at the skies, the mountains in the distance. He wondered about the Shadowkin, what life must have been like for them before the Magmis invaded the mountains and performed the mass genocide. There was only so little a person can learn about them. No one knew much about them, only that they worshipped the god of shadows and were punished for it.

      "Ow!" Louvel pulled back when Henri accidentally pressed the razor a bit too hard on his jaw, a thin cut on his face, blood bubbling out which stood out on his tanned skin.

      Henri winced, "Sorry" he apologized before grabbing a clean cloth and pressed it against the cut.

      "The price of beauty is pain" Louvel teased, but stopped when he saw that Henri was staring at someone behind him. Quickly Louvel had his hand on his sword, ready to attack when he saw that it was Marcelle Dufour. When the man noticed that the two were looking at him he jumped and instantly turned back, Louvel saw that he wore no armor, his hair pulled into a ponytail.

      Marcelle Dufour is the bastard son of Queen Léa Édouard who had an affair with a servant. In every way he is Henri's half-brother, and dangerous. Marcelle had a chance at the throne if anything were to ever happen to Henri, which is why Louvel protect Henri out in the battlefield, prepared for the day Marcelle drew his blade to Henri.

      "He's not a bad person Louvel; stop that glaring!" Henri snapped before he finished the last of the shaving and instantly dipped the cloth in water.

      "He's a bastard son who has a chance to win a title to the throne. He will most likely do anything to fight for it" Louvel mumbled.

      Henri however rolled his eyes, "No he isn't. Marcelle hates attention. He prefers to linger in the back. I talk to him since he’s my half-brother. He only wants his father well taken care of after my mother cut his hands off."

      Louvel had heard about it from his father. The queen had given birth to Marcelle in secrecy that day, her husband had been away during the time and she had handed Marcelle to the midwife before ordering the servant to present himself. He had, and when he asked why he had been requested Queen Léa had ordered one guard to hold him down and another guard to cut his hands off before finally bringing in a medic to tend to her. Marcelle’s father would later on be healed, but without his hands he had lost his job at the palace and had a son who he couldn’t care for.

      "My mother acted cruel that day, and I'm trying to make amends with him. He knows that it is not my fault you know. He’s quite an understanding person."

      "Even the most understanding has a sinister side" Louvel grumbled. Henri rolled his eyes, then mumbled about him being too paranoid. In his defense paranoia is a good thing. His paranoia has saved Henri from the assassins who were after him, Louvel even kept one alive long enough to find out they were from the Del Moncio Empire.

      He was still thinking about it. "Strange that the Eastern Empire sent out assassins for you. I never thought that their emperor would be driven to such drastic actions."

      Henri's lip quivered slightly, "I've heard talks with the emperor aren’t going too well. He's locked up Sunholde. No one can go in or out, and they haven't been able to do so for months now."

      "He's mad" Louvel whispered.

      To lockdown the capital...Louvel wouldn't be amazed if the people began to revolt.

      He has fought when men from the Del Moncio Empire, saw that those who survived were willing to take their own life before marching back to Sunholde.

      Merith is in war, the Five Empires all against one another, and these men fear their own ruler.

      "A man who has too much power will lose his mind. I'm just hoping that his madness won't lead to the collapse of one of the oldest empires in Merith."

      There was pity in that, well at least for Henri who was raised to learn about the Del Moncio Empire. They are the oldest known empire in Merith, and was once known for their artisans, scholars, and intellects whose skills made the empire glorious. Under the rulers of their empresses the Del Moncio Empire was peaceful, opening and accepting to all others.

      "I'm curious to know how the assassins even knew about our location" Henri sat on the tree stump, his eyes staring off at the trees. "I fear there might be a traitor. If that is the case what are their intentions of getting me killed."

      "You're a royal, I don't think there's much to it" Louvel said. It's never easy. People have their reasons for killing others, whether it's because of politics, religion, or simply personal reasons. Henri was a prince, a crowned heir who is out in fighting because he was sent away. Assassins will come, and Louvel knew this. Abelin knew this. The entire unit knew. Henri was their top priority, even if the other knights didn't say anything.

      "I like him" Serge said one night while they were in the campfire. "Kid doesn't act like a spoiled prince, that's for sure."

      Loïc snorted, "The kid is still a prince though. His protection means everything. We bring back his corpse you bet your asses that the queen will make sure we have a nice cell in Obsidian Tower."

      Serge shot Loïc a glare, "Shut it. You know not to say those words around..." he paused to glance at Louvel.

      Louvel shook his head, brought back to present time he noticed that Henri was staring off at the trees. His expression calm, probably thinking of home again. Louvel sat next to him and stared at the pond. Truth be told, whenever he was out he liked to think about the ocean. He lived by the Kol Ocean and spent his childhood with his toes digging into the sand staring out at the endless waters, lulled to sleep by the gentle waves and the crisp sent the ocean brought.

      Divines, he missed the ocean.

      He was pulled out of his thoughts though when he heard a shout followed by a loud explosion.

      Instantly Louvel grabbed Henri and pulled him towards him. "Attack? But this place was supposed to be safe!" Henri shouted.

      He had no armor. Louvel had to get him armor. He grabbed the razor and handed it to Henri, "Stay here. I'm going to get your armor."

      "No! We don't know what's going on" Henri hissed, but as he said that men began making their way through the trees towards the pond. Louvel pulled out his sword, "Set some barrier spells around yourself. I want you to stay in there" he turned to the men who were charging towards him.

      Fight to protect Henri.

      That's all that mattered right now.

      He surged forward towards the first man who had his sword raised, ready to bring it down on him. The two swords clashed, and Louvel instantly used all his weight to push himself forward and bring the man down.

      Louvel instantly kicked the man in the knees with all his strength causing the man to pull back, once then Louvel brought his blade down to the small gap between the helmet and the pauldron. He noticed the Del Moncio crest on the armor, and as the man let out a strange gurgling sound when Louvel pulled the blade back, only to swing his blade which made contact with a shield.

      First thing he remembered, shields from the Del Moncio Empire are weak. They were made from wood, not even reinforced in order to make sure it can take hits. He then saw that the man's armor wasn't even steel, or even iron. It was leather.

      Leather armor? In a battlefield? The man pushed Louvel who stumbled a bit, but he was quick to steady himself, taking the full force of the shield when it slammed into him. Louvel released a grunt, his arm ached from where the shield made contact. He pulled away and was able to dodge the tip of a sword.

      The man stopped suddenly; he had dropped his shield looking as if though he was frozen in time. Louvel didn’t pause to push the blade into his chest.

      A shot of lighting whizzed by him causing Louvel to freeze up and watch as a man who was charging towards him drop to the floor as his limbs trembled from the shock.

      "Henri!" Louvel snapped and turned to find Henri a few feet away from him. "My armor," Henri said to Louvel before making his way to the dead man and removed his helmet to show a young looking man staring at them with dead eyes.

      Henri inhaled sharply when he dug his hand into the man's wound and smeared blood on him.

      "Go" he said in a softer voice; laying down near the man and pretending to be dead.

      Louvel turned, where he stood he could see that the camp was under attack. Looking at his sword he exhaled and began to approach the camp, ready to find the armor.

      Protect Henri. That's all that matters.

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Chapter 2: Zilyana

      "If you keep staring at me I'll summon a dragon that will eat you whole."

      The young guard flinched and backed away from the cell; he made his way back to patrolling the row of empty cells, all except for one. Zilyana rolled her eyes at the guard. Of course he would think she has the power to control dragons. She can say she can grow another head and they would still believe her.

       She decided to settle on the cot, might as well see how it felt to be in a prison before she makes her ‘grand escape.’

      "Why is a Shadowkin in here? How are the Shadowkin even alive?"

      "She was caught stealing from some merchants. As for how she's alive...don't know."

      "Shouldn't we put her in a more secure cell? I heard that Shadowkin could become shadows."

      "Don't be foolish. Shadowkin are only called that because they worship Ereus."

      Zilyana raised an eyebrow, "Why not ask an actual Shadowkin who knows about those amazing questions that are brewing in your head” she snapped. The older guard glared, “Shut it. I won’t take any cheekiness from you.”

      “I’m not being cheeky. Think about it—you have a mysterious Shadowkin confined in this tiny, somewhat unsanitary cell. You can ask me questions that you have always been asking since you were young children running around learning about the Triw mountains” she mused.

      The two guards glanced at each other when the younger asked, “Do you really have no gender?”

      Zilyana frowned. “This,” she pointed at her chest “are a lady thing. I’m not like the Mani. They might be genderless, but Shadowkin aren’t.”

      Truly she thought they would have at least asked more interesting questions than that.

      “What about worshipping the Shadow god?” the younger one asked again.

      She gave him a smirk, "Ereus is our father. With a single drop of his blood he was able to transform us to Shadowkin and gave us gifts unlike our kin had ever seen before. We worship him because we are worshipping our father, thanking him for giving us life and for giving us abilities that help us survive…” her runes on her body began to glow, her skin beginning to feel cold as her physical form was beginning to slip away.

      "You were right. We can become shadows" she said before leaping into the darkness and fusing with it. Her body lost physical form as Zilyana moved around in the shadows. She laughed when she heard the guards scream, the older guard commanding the younger one to alert the others. It was too late though, she slipped through the bars with ease and reappeared back into her physical form.

      The part she left out was that only few Shadowkin were given that gift. Those born with the mark of the Shadows were able to use the gift, and out of all the Shadowkin who live in the Triw Mountains only two were able to move in the shadows. Zilyana and her older brother Qildor.

      She only took a few more steps before she placed her hand against her chest, "Alright...let's disguise ourselves, shall we?" she whispered and began to feel the change within her. Shadowkin were much like the other elves, minus the darker skin and the white runes that wrapped around their bodies. Slowly her skin turned pinkish, that like the race of men, but a common skin tone for most elves. Her runes blended in slowly, fading but never leaving. Zilyana's hair turned darker, pale white hair turned black as the night sky while her amber eyes turned violet.

      Zilyana frowned when she saw her hands and how strange they looked. She always hated wearing disguises, but she had no other choice.

      Carefully Zilyana slipped through the eyes of guards and citizens before making her way to the main road where vendors were selling goods to people. Shadowkin aren't common in Merith, and the one thing Zilyana didn't want was to draw attention to herself.

      She carefully snatched a chocolate from one of the vendors when he wasn't looking.

      She took a bite out of chocolate, the smooth and creamy texture made her smile as she looked around. The small town of Manvi was the farthest away from the comforts of the Triw Mountains, if one can even call those mountains comfort. It is a border town where the Windwin people lived, and sometimes criminals who were fleeing punishment from the Auclair Empire.

      Zilyana spotted some guards and instantly slipped in the shadows away from the main road.

      Her disguised rippled slightly while she calmed herself in order to make sure it stayed on her skin. Illusion magic is a tricky thing; disguises, in particular were like wearing a mask but the mask was controlled by emotion. If one began to feel any sort of anxiety or anger the mask will wither away. That was how Zilyana got caught to begin with; she got too nervous and the magic dissolved.

      Taking a deep breath Zilyana reminded herself she is fully disguised; no one would suspect a thing, as far as they would know she is just an elf exploring the town. Once the thought is in her mind Zilyana stepped out again in the main road, this time confident on her disguise.

      Vendors sold many things here, exported goods from many regions of Merith. They sold food, jewelry, armor, and potions. Manvi had a certain smell that no other place in Merith had, it wasn't a particularly bad smell. It smelled of spices and magic, mixed together into a homey aroma which Zilyana found herself missing whenever she ventured to other towns. A part of her must have claimed Manvi her home.

      She examined the stuff vendors were trying to sell.

      Zilyana had a good sight of these things, she carefully examined everything to see if they were worth stealing. Vendors would sell anything for coin, and that meant sometimes selling things that aren't what they seem. Basic alchemy can change water to wine, so Zilyana had to make sure that the gold necklaces aren't really made from cheap iron or steel.

      This was also a good place to hear gossip. Hearing about the latest news on the war or any information that could lead to the next heist.

      "Del Moncio? Are you sure?" a baker asked a woman who was buying some loafs of bread.

      "Oh yes. My husband and I saw them last night! I thought they never reached the west."

      That caught her attention. The Del Moncio Empire were never able to send their knights this far off in the west. The Vesperr Empire had made sure of that by building the walls to block off the Del Moncio Empire.

      "It makes no sense to me. They were nearing a camp of the Auclair Empire."

      The baker snorted, "That’s the Royal Unit. Best damn fighters from the Auclair Empire. There should be nothing but dead bodies of the Del Moncio now."

      Well...she knew where to go next.

      Zilyana turned to them, "Excuse me, but do you know where that camp might have been?" she asked.

      The baker looked at her, "Huh, not far from here from what I've been told. Probably near Silverdrop Pond" he said.

      She's been there, Zilyana remembered because that was where she sold out some pirates. Their threats meant little to her compared to the coin she managed to obtain from it. Thanking the baker, she slipped up her hood, beginning the journey to Silverdrop Pond with hopes that there might be something there she can get to steal.

 

      Zilyana is a thief.

      She likes pretty things.

      Zilyana would snatch things from unsuspecting people and hoard them in her little hut; she would ignore the whispers from the others who would say the same thing about her, her selfishness and greed has always gotten the best of her.

      She didn't always steal for selfish desires though. When you live in the mountains in utter seclusion supplies are hard to come by. Zilyana and Qildor were the only ones who were able to venture down the mountains and travel to towns in order to obtain those necessities. Sometimes they were stolen, but the others didn't have to know. All they have to know is that Zilyana only steals pretty things.

      Zilyana had removed her disguise and raised her hand as she walked towards the battlefield.

      She couldn’t help but glance at her hand, staring at the white runes which stood out on her skin. On the palms of her hands were there certain marks that only she and Qildor were born with, a swirled pattern that made the shape of an eye. The mark of Shadows.

      It was that mark which caused the Magmis to march into the underground city and perform a genocide on the Shadowkin. Her people who were once numbered in the millions are now a small village hidden in the mountains living in huts; reminiscing the old days when Shadowkin used to live inside the Triw mountains before the Magmis had sealed it off.

      The stench of blood and magic brought her out of her thoughts, causing Zilyana to see smoke not far from where she stood, and the bodies that littered the grass fields.

      Magic had a stench when used it too much; a rotten scent lingered in the air, with battlemages fighting in the war that scent has become a more common thing.

      Zilyana approached the first dead knight and saw that his arm had been removed cleanly by a sharp blade. She took a deep breath and began to remove the small silver crest on his armor. Knights of the Del Moncio Empire sported silver crests on their armor, it was their symbol of who they pledge to. With enough silver she might be able to melt it and sell it off as necklaces or rings. Even candle holders if she was able to collect enough. Silver candle holders always did provide a good amount of coin.

      The first few knights she encountered were clearly those from the Del Moncio Empire, some to Zilyana's dismay were still alive.

      She gave them the mercy of a quick death.

      Pulling back helmets she would slice their throats and held them until their death. A thief she is, but even thieves can't stand to see people suffer so much.

      The closer she approached the pond she began to realize there was another stench in the air. This smell was not of the typical scent of a battlefield. Decay, blood, and magic were things Zilyana had grown accustomed to when she ventured near battlefields. This scent was something else.

       At best she can describe the smell of a wet dog.

      When she got closer to the pond she spotted two figures lying on the floor. Instantly Zilyana set up a barrier spell around her before approaching them.

      The first figure was closer, and Zilyana couldn't help but stare at the man. He was laid on the floor positioned in such a way it looked like he was sleeping. He was pale skinned with silver hair, brushed back and held with a white ribbon. His eyes were closed, but it is clear he was dead. His sword laid by his side, a beautiful blade forged from pure obriydian. Rare in Merith, in sunlight it reflected a deep shade of blue, the metal was impossible to obtain...so how did it end up on the hands of a knight?

      Beautiful was the first thought Zilyana had as she kneeled down and touched the man's face. Unlike the other knights he looked so young, he clearly had a long life ahead of him, but it was brutally cut down. She toyed with some lose strands of his hair and saw the bloodied wound on his stomach. the armor showed no damage, but the blood had already begun to stain the armor.

      That's when she saw the jewels embroidered into the armor, this guy is something special then.

      Pulling out her dagger Zilyana carefully plucked the jewels from the armor and examined them, surprised to see these were real. The Auclair Empire liked putting fancy things on the armor of important people, however sometimes those jewels were false or simply alchemic jewels made from simple materials. These were real. There was no feel of alchemy, and they have clearly been hand crafted.

      "Who are you?" she found herself asking the dead knight.

      Of course she didn't expect him to reply.

      Zilyana continued to pluck the priceless jewels from his armor when she saw the second figure suddenly arch his back and began screaming out in pain. Even from the distance she could sense that there was something wrong with him. The stench of wet dog is too strong around him. Zilyana slowly stood and backed away from the figure who was thrashing around. It sounded like he was wailing, crying out for someone.

      The strange sounds were a mixture between man and beast. The Mute One had written down about the tales of these creatures, and Zilyana has heard about them when she ventured too close to the Auclair Empire.

      Lycanthropes were their name. They weren't like shifters who could easily shift into beast forms. Lycanthropes were forced to transform. The Auclair Empire punished knights who killed someone important by forcing the punished into ingesting lycanthrope blood.

      Turning punished men into monsters...Zilyana still didn't understand how men could be so cruel.

      He stopped moving suddenly, his head turning to face Zilyana.

      When he growled she jumped back and fused with the shadows of the trees; once she was hidden within the shadows he suddenly collapsed. “Huh” was the only thing she said before stepping out of the shadows, the barrier spell should protect her, but she wasn't sure how it might protect her against a lycanthrope. Once she was close to him she kneeled down and looked at his face. Just like the other knight this was is too young, war had already begun to sharpen his features, but there were still signs of his youth.

      Nineteen maybe, she wasn't sure.

      Crouching down she carefully brushed the hair out of his face and looked at him. He was handsome, his skin tanned from spending too much time in the sunlight and a muscular build. Her hands traced the scar on his cheek and then the slope of his nose. People from the Auclair Empire always did have those upturned noses, she often joked around on their appearance, something about it looking like they were stuck ups. They probably were. He looked nothing fancy though, if not a little rugged.

      She glanced at the fallen armor not far from where they were and saw that it had been decimated, the steel armor looked like it had been beaten with hammers and the leather straps had been cut. Someone had purposely destroyed his armor, leaving the knight in nothing but a bloodied tunic and muddied pants. He didn't even have shoes.

      She leaned in close to him, to an outsider it looked like she was about to kiss him, but rather she sniffed him.

      Yep. He smelled like a wet dog. He had no magic in him either; he was just a knight who was cursed to become a lycanthrope.

      Zilyana cringed and pulled back.

      When she did she realized he was awake.

      His eyes were open now, looking right at her with glowing blue eyes.

      Instantly she pushed herself back a good distance from the knight and pointed her dagger at him when she heard him growl. The sound itself brought shivers up her spine.

      He slowly sat up, eyes glaring at her.

      "Am I supposed to be frightened of you just because you growled at me?" she snapped.

      Zilyana saw that he was wounded from the shoulder.

      "You..."

      Zilyana flinched at his voice, it cracked when he spoke. She saw skin change into fur and decided in that moment that she can still reason with him. Lycanthropes still have a human side, she just needed to pull it out of him before he transformed.

      Ereus help her.

      Zilyana placed the dagger away and put her hands up, "I do not wish to hurt you knight. I found you here, and you are wounded" she said.

      The knight's eyes began to change. It was a warm color, trusting brown eyes that looked broken. The knight seems to drop his guard, he slumped and stared at the sky, "Kill me. I don't care anymore. They will hunt me down and kill me once I become a full monster" he whispered.

      She tilted her head. Someone is trying to kill him? Lycanthropes weren't accepted, but he smelled fresh. Newly transformed. No one would have known...except maybe the people who were previously here. The Royal Unit.

      Zilyana took a step closer to him, "Believe it or not I don't have any intention on taking more lives today. I'm a thief, not a killer. You still have a good amount of life in you and I do not wish to take it."

      I don't like killing, she wanted to tell him.

      The knight then turned his head to stare at the fallen knight not far from Zilyana. She turned her head to look at him before asking, "Is...is he a friend of yours?"

      The knight let out a small cough, "Yes...he is my friend. He is the prince of the Auclair Empire."

      She blinked. Prince Henri Gardet- Édouard, the crowned prince of the Auclair Empire. Dead. Near the border of all places. This was not going to help any truce that the Five Empires were trying to make at the moment. The queen is ruthless...and she will want to blame someone for her son's death. The knight sighed, "I was not just his friend though. I was his guard who was sworn to protect him. In the end I killed him."

      She blinked, her amber eyes looked at his own brown one in shock. He was the one who killed the crowned prince? The queen will have his head! Now she understood what he meant when he said that they would kill him. The entire empire would want his head.

      "Oh,” Zilyana said before adding “why are you telling me this? I’m not going to end up torn to shreds and in the bottom of the pond, am I?”. This seems like a deep intimate secret. The kind of secrets that people don’t tell thieves who were stealing from the crowned prince.

      The knight shrugged, "I already face death, I am already a monster who will be hunted down for my crimes, I might as well and try to prove my innocence to someone.”

      Zilyana snorted, "You chose an odd person for that. I'm not someone who cares about innocence. If you haven’t noticed I’m a thief stealing from dead people. Probably not going to shout your name in honor anytime soon.”

      "I wasn't expecting you to, especially considering that you're Shadowkin."

      Zilyana smirked, "Indeed I am. Daughter of Ereus at your service."

      The knight snorted, "Up until a few hours ago I thought your kind were extinct...now I guess I am wrong about that."

      "Well today is certainly full of surprises, isn't it?"

      He shrugged and looked around "I wasn't also expecting an ambush."

      "So this was some sort of ambush. Do you know why the Del Moncio Empire would want to attack you?" she asked.

      The knight exhaled, "Besides the obvious? No. We were all tired from our journey and were just camping here. No one should have known we were around."

      He ran his hand through his hair, she noticed that he had blood smeared on his forehead.

      "My name is Louvel."

      She raised an eyebrow, "Zilyana" she responded before approaching Louvel and kneeling down in front of him. "Looks like you got pretty roughened up" she said, examining the wound on his shoulder. It looked like damage from an arrow, pulled out hastily which only even more damage. Her hands lit up blue as she placed both hands on the wound and watched the skin began to knit itself back together.

      "Your clothes are a mess by the way" she said, pulling back to check if the wound was fully healed. Louvel raised his other hand and tugged on the collar of his tunic, but when he did Zilyana froze when she saw five long jagged cuts on his wrist. Louvel saw where she had been looking and lowered his arm "I..."

      "You don't have to explain" she said, reaching out she grabbed his arm and healed his wrist.

      Louvel remained quiet until she finished, she didn't like that there were scars but Louvel didn't seem to care. He was just desperate to get her gaze away from those scars.

      "What will you do now? The prince is dead and your men will most likely make sure you have a bounty on your head" she said as she tended his other wounds.

      He stared at the scars on his wrist, "I'm not too sure, if I'm being honest." Louvel looked at her saying "My entire life I've been a knight and now...I'm a criminal."

      "Eh. It's not too bad."

      He managed to chuckle, "I'm thankful it's not too horrible."

      Zilyana stood up, "Depends on how bad of a criminal you are. If you're like me it's not too bad. You, on the other hand have much bigger crime in your hands. Enough for a bounty all across Merith and bounty hunters looking for you. The first thing you need to do is get away from here. Silverdrop Pond is part of the Auclair Empire border. You need to flee as far from this land as you possibly can. Get some new clothes, grow a beard, and live somewhere in seclusion until you die or the bounty lessens to a point where no one would want your head except desperate men, but those are easy to defeat."

      She paused, staring a Louvel she couldn't help but pity the knight. "There's a town not far from here called Manvi. It's a place where criminals lay low for a while, especially criminals from the Auclair Empire. I can take you there and give you a room at the inn. You will be allowed to have some time and think about your next move."

      "And why would you want to help a knight whose life has taken this tragic turn?"

      She shrugged "I can be a good person, can't I?"

      "I…suppose so."

      Louvel froze, he turned away but Zilyana can see tears. This must be a lot for him to take in, Zilyana looked over at the body of the prince and pulled out the jewels that she had stolen from him.

      Suddenly she felt guilty.

      "Damn consciousness" she grumbled before making her way to the prince's body and carefully placing the jewels back on his armor. She heard Louvel softly say "You were stealing from the crowned prince?”

      "And I'm giving them back. Shame, those lovelies would have made enough for the things I need" she replied. Zilyana tried not to think about how those jewels would have been important in getting goods for her people. It doesn't matter. She can just steal others.

      When she turned back to Louvel she saw that he was standing. He is around the same height that she is. Naturally elves are taller than humans, so Zilyana couldn't help but be a bit surprised at how tall he is. She also realized there was no way she would be able to slip him into the inn with the state of his clothes. She couldn't even get him in town without the guards stopping them.

      "Do you think your men packed everything up? Even spare clothes?" she asked.

      He frowned, “Why?”

      Zilyana rolled her eyes, “Because you’re a knight whose clothes are nice and bloodied up. I already got myself in trouble in Manvi, so I need you to blend in with the people there. One of the steps in blending in is disposing of notable clothing…bloodied clothes is one of them” she looked around hoping that someone might have left a pack.

      “Well…why don’t you go and buy me clothes?”

      “Buy you clothes? Oh that is funny” Zilyana approached a tree stump when she saw a silver razor there. She picked it up, realizing it was made from pure silver Zilyana blinked and turned to Louvel, “Is this yours?” she asked.

      She can steal it, but considering that it might be Louvel’s he might snap and kill her.

      He looked up from where he was trying to find clothes when he spotted the silver razor.

      “It was Henri’s” he replied.

      Zilyana shrugged and placed it on the tree stump, “Well now you can take it. We can sell it for money and get you some nice clothes. Welcome to the criminal lifestyle Louvel.” 

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