#tfktask04

The whole north of Candoris might as well be underwater for all the rain that was currently washing over it, leaving not a single stone, leaf, or head dry. Lukas was en route back to Ravenstone, in need of new supplies for his work at the capital, and it was rapidly becoming clear that he and his entourage were not going to be making it back tonight in this abysmal weather. Rain didn’t bother him, but being soaked to the bone did. Plus being in the saddle for so long was starting to make his bad leg cramp. Damn him for thinking he could do without the carriage this one time.

One of his guard came trotting back down the road from where he’d been sent to scout, and reported an inn not five minutes ride away. As promised, the party of Lukas, his manservant, and their four guards arrived at the Blushing Rosebud Inn. From the outside, it appeared to be a more or less respectable establishment: maintained flowerbeds out front accented a large, painted building that looked a little gaudy for Lukas’s austere taste. There was a stable close at hand, manned by a couple of strong youths who were happy to get the horses in out of the wet. Shouldering their packs and supplies, the Baron and his retinue pushed through the door into the inn, eager to be out of the rain themselves.

The interior was warmly lit and cozy, with decor that once again was far too cheerful and chintzy for Lukas to feel entirely at ease. They were greeted by a chipper-looking landlady, who immediately began fussing over the group like a mother hen. “Dear me, you look absolutely drenched, you poor lambs!” she squawked, fluttering around and relieving them of their cloaks and jackets. “Come, come! You’re not the only ones stuck out in this horrid downpour. Let me get you something to warm your insides while you sit by the fire.”

"If we could just get some rooms and dinner, that’d be great,” Lukas interjected. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, though when was he ever? The landlady nodded and beamed at him, seeming to ignore his clipped tone and scowl. “Right you are, dearie! Go, go, sit! I’ll be back in a jiffy!” And she bustled away, hanging their wet outer clothes on a coat rack as she went. Lukas, meanwhile, was already limping towards the massive fireplace at the other end of the room, and one of several tables arranged before it. The landlady was right, they were not alone in seeking shelter tonight. The dining room was crowded, not noisy thankfully, but certainly livelier than he would have liked. One table seemed to be seating a host of merchants who were bantering about the rising price of grain in the capital, while another table held what might be a small mercenary company. Not too far from the larger table where Lukas seated himself, he could see a woman dressed in fine clothes with what appeared to be some guards around her. Probably another noble stuck on her way home. Lukas sighed and put his leg up on a chair to rest while his entourage seated themselves around him, murmuring about how nice the fire felt on their cold bodies. “Don’t drink too much tonight, okay?” he remarked to them, staring around at the busy dining room of the inn, eyes lighting again on the noblewoman nearby. “We’re turning in early and heading out first thing. I don’t want to be here longer than necessary.”

The longer she was trapped in this infernal country, the more Ginny became convinced that it could do with a complete overhaul. Vampires and werewolves and fae and those ridiculous fish people were bad enough. Now she’d come to find they had such monstrosities as cyclopes running about the place. If she made it out of this encounter, she was going to have some very strong words with some very important people about performing a little pest control.

Genevieve LeFaye came from a royal line whose roots were planted by prolific monster hunters. So deadly and efficient were they that Nizrani was now a peaceful country free of supernatural beings altogether, barring any foolish enough to risk living there in secret. Their coat of arms featured one of her ancestors holding a severed giant’s head while on horseback. All told, Ginny should have been well prepared (genetically at least) to face down the one-eyed brute that had crossed her path. But genetics and practice were two entirely separate things, and Ginny was not a skilled fighter. Given a sword, she could do more damage with it by swinging wildly and hitting bystanders than through practiced movements. So it was up to her faithful guards to deal with the beast, while the princess found a safe spot up in a tree.

And oh, how well that was going. Richard was already dead, torn clean in two by the cyclops and promptly devoured while Francois covered for Ginny’s escape to a nearby oak. But now the fiend had turned on the remaining guard, who trembled visibly as he fended off the beast’s club with his scimitar, and Ginny couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his pitiful display. What good were personal guards if they couldn’t take down a bloody cyclops? True, it might have helped if she had not goaded the creature with a scathing remark about its filthy loincloth, but still. That was no excuse for her guards to suddenly turn into shrinking violets. Francois was clearly struggling, and Ginny had no desire to get blood on her silk dress—it was already ruined from climbing the tree. So she did the only other thing she could in this situation: scream for someone else to come and clean up this mess.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!”

It was the light that had caught Arabella’s eye initially.

She had wandered for so long in the Wilde Wood, having been following someone who she had suspected was working for her mother. But the person in question had disappeared shortly after she had left the trail, leaving her alone in an environment she was wholly unfamiliar with. Yet the misfortune had also led her to this cave, where something was shining deep within. Curiosity got the better of her and Arabella chose to make her way towards it. 

The princess approached cautiously, testing the uneven ground with each tentative step and darting behind any large rock that would obscure her presence from whoever or whatever dwelled in there. Arabella had repeated this approach several times, sticking out her head to look for signs of movement before scampering over to her next hiding place, quiet as a field mouse. The mermaid kept her eyes focused on the light, but as she moved closer, sneaking from rock to rock, a silhouette started to block her view. A human silhouette.

Alarmed, she shrank back behind her hiding place, a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeak of surprise. Arabella let a few heatbeats pass, before inching her way to the edge of the stone, squinting in the dark to try and make out some of the finer details. ‘...wait.’ This was someone she recognized; someone she had clearly spoken to in passing, and not so terribly long ago. Back in the tavern, when the stranger had so kindly offered her cover in the dangerous locale. Yet despite the good deed, she hadn’t the chance to ever learn who her saviour was. 

How strange it seemed, to have met her twice in such a small span of time. It had to have been fate.

“Miss.” She whispered, trying to draw her attention without necessarily alerting any of the other potential occupants in the cave. “U-um, Miss, over here!” Arabella waved a hand, her long sleeve fluttering in the movement. “I don’t know...if it’s safe to go right in there. I-I mean, what if there are traps? Something worse?”