Fantasy Brotherhood: Hidden Shields

[Aether1]

Whilst Maria never expected the orc Prince to cooperate with her question, given the sensitive manner of his approach, it didn't make her any less bothered to hear his refusal. Obvious by the subtle frown forcing itself on her forced courteous smile. Her curiosity was piqued--her mind made up--there was no way this situation ended without her interference, her intended plan was to have Thromar tail Mactovak.

What the Princess failed to account for, was the hasty dismissal the orc directed to her. Any façade of courtesy she bore broke down in an instance, Maria's eyes furrowing deeply, as her face reddened into an irritated pout. Warrior or not, she was still raised as royalty, and her marshal duties were a position of leadership. She was accustomed to having her orders followed and her subjects hang off her every beckon

"Mactovak!" Maria yelled with an overt amount of force, her gentle demeanour of a Princess morphing into the command of a warrior--a Warmaster--her cry for attention was met by several confused glances from various Guildsmen, as far as they were concerned, the Princess was merely fascinated by the arts of war. Little did they know, she was their commander. Marching after the looming orc in great frustration, Maria found herself pushing aside several people in her path in a relatively un-ladylike manner. Not because she was angry. But because the long-legged brute was had a considerably faster march pace than her own.

Reaching the exterior of the guild, it became clear the orc cared little for etiquette and Eranovian royalty. Briefly, her eyes snapped to the stationed guards with disillusioned consideration. Apprehending him would be hasty, it wasn't the right call. But she couldn't let him disappear into the city without a trace, then again, a towering orc was an easy beacon of attention. Eyes fixed on Mactovak's departing figure, Maria huffed in irritated defeat; Thromar could handle this--he'd have to--seeing as she couldn't.
​

 

[Hyydra]

And that would be when she would hear his bone-rattling roar of utter rage.

Sprinting away from her, his greatsword was already half unsheathed, his other arm swinging back and forth mightily. She could barely see who he was attacking, before he magnificently leapt in to the air around four feet away, people screaming and parting from his path, spinning sideways through the air and unsheathing his sword, slamming it down upon the elf he suddenly wished to murder.

That was, of course, if the unexpected had truly occurred.

An explosion, of light. The being seemed to become nothing as his sword connected with him, blinding the orc upon impact, his unarmed hand reaching up to cover his face. And then from there he would be matched, a mighty kick into his chest to send him into one of the wooden pillars beneath an armor store, breaking it in two as he fell into a set of barrels, destroying those due to his momentum as well.

From there the elf would be seen. He was indeed pale, as if he were undead, and his eyes couldn't be told exactly blood red, but they were indeed from her distance still a solid black color all around. He was tall, as tall as the orc, with strange armor upon him. He bore upon his chest a strange black armor, a chestplate with a silver symbol of a dragon clutching onto a scythe with all four limbs, wings spread and its maw opened in roaring. His shoulder plates were of the same metal, black, one plate upon the other, small in number, but large in set. They covered all of his shoulder, spherical. His boots hat a spike upon the front, three digging slightly upwards upon the back, and a large, metallic blade riding his shin, reaching above his knee and pointing outward slightly. His waist area held a metallic belt around his waist, like unmovable armor, with black chains covering either thigh, messily ended, with parts showing off his slender, yet impressive, build. Though he was deathly pale, the sun proved some use in the shadows his muscular build presented. His forearm guards were large, though, thick and black, circular, as if some form of cuffs along his entire forearm.

His face was slender, his nose long and barely pointed. His ears were of any traditional elven ear: Were the tips not cut off, aside. His hair was white as well, slicked upwards, crating some form of rectangular pyramid along the center of his head, all other hair shaven off or not growing. It was easily up to debate for such a strange creature as he.

The orc got back up, after a few seconds, to look to his opponent, who smirked with a sinister aura. The orce once more charged blindly, twirling his sword in one hand as he roared mightily, swinging it down upon the elf. The pale quickly deflected such with his forearm, letting it ride off of it smoothly, bending his elbow so his blade made contact with the ground, turning outside of him as he delivered a strong uppercut to the orc. From there did the brute slam his knee into the elf, causing the man to lift up from the ground, dropping his sword as he quickly spun around, backhanding the stranger in his chest mightily with his arm, sending him into the air to land upon his back. By now there had been a mighty crowd around them. The elf rolled backwards to a stand, pushing up as he looked to the orc, his arms extending outwards towards the orc, cupping his hands, as if some strange ritual.

The orc charged forward, his shortsword in hand now as he sprinted forth, both hands upon his smaller sword as he meant to stab into the elf. Of course, another shatter, causing him blindness. This time, however, with close eyes he turned around, roaring as he sliced upwards, the elf who seemed to fade into existence lifting his head up mightily without noise, a large, red mark draping along the side of his neck now. Faint, but still bleeding. He backed up a few steps, his hand clutching his throat with much surprise, frowning after looking at his hand to the orc. Who in return gave a hungry grin, twirling his blade as he charged forward, weapon raised highly.

The elf charged back, hands behind him as his plan was created nearly instantly, trusting falsely in the weapon. The orc assumed he'd tricked the elf, sending a foot out to connect with the stranger in his chest area. However, the elf made a quick twirl to his left, sprinting behind the orc, grasping him around his waist, lifting him up high and behind himself, creating a half circle with his body as he slammed the center back of his warrior into the ground. The orc began to cough, growing tired at the moment. His eyes were softening, closing.

However, he fought to wake up, looking to see an elf standing atop of him, light forming in his hands to make a strange sword, with no hilt, just a strange handle and a very slim, pointed blade. He held it with both hands, though it be short, as if performing yet another ritual. This was a mistake, as the orc grew a disgusted face, simply retracting his legs, slamming them both into the elf's chest mightily, sending him against the giant doors of the castle. He didn't stop there, the elf seemingly barely awake from the mighty impact that caused the dust to fall from the highest parts of that mighty set of doors. He sprinted forward, roaring as he slammed a left fist into the jaw of the elf. And then another, and then another. He smacked the hands away that attempted to guard the stranger's self, continuing to deliver his blows. He grasped onto the chestplate of the warrior, lifting him up to continue slamming him. Eventually, he tossed him down, seeing his sword was in reach. He grunted, clumsily grasping it from the ground, roaring mightily as he held the blade with both hands, pointed downwards, roaring mightily as the looked to the elf below him, who guarded himself with one arm, looking away miserably.

However, that did not stop the orc, his blade going down, causing the hologram to explode once more, blinding him unexpectedly. The orc staggered back, dropping his sword as this one was especially hurtful after the other two, palms clasping onto his eyes as he shook his head mightily. He grunted, throwing his arms from himself, looking around for the elf. His eyes were widened mightily- heart pounding within his chest. He had lost him. The orc had lost his target. Roaring with utter rage he slammed his fists into the ground, sprinting towards a household as he lifted himself atop it, leaping from house to house in search of where the elf might've vanished off to. But he could not find him. The orc slowly let himself down from the hut he was upon, the straw itching his feet as he did so scratch them quickly. His shoulders hung, his head still looking around. Where could he have gone?

Then he heard a foreign noise. That of unheard before. Sprinting around the corner, he looked to see a tall pillar of purple and black, glowing with some strange energy in an oval shape. It was at least 8 feet high and 2 feet wide, though it was wider. It was closing! The orc sprinted forward, watching it close as he leapt with utter begging. But all for naught, his body passing through grey smoke, rising high, and slamming against the cobbled wall, his jaw connecting with, as well his temple, causing him to instantly be unconscious.

 

[Aether1]

Everything seemed to escalate in an instant, a haze of conflict echoed throughout the city--a war cry--met by the sickening sound of steel upon steel, Maria stood motionless, overcome by shock and surprised in equal measure. A gentle buzzing filled her mind, vision flickering unfocused on the sight of Mactovak-and his target--locked in deadly combat. Paled and sickly, she locked eyes with the Warmaster's guarding the door. "Help him!" She commanded in a plea, pointedly aiming at Mactovak. But to no avail, as the guards exchanged a look, one of them shaking his head lightly with a smug grin.

Maria's eyes flickered in brief rage, cursing at the independence of the guild--her guild--they answered to no royalty, only the Warlord; a mantle Thromar occupied, whilst she worked it in the shadows. A conflict between an unfamiliar orc and elf was of no concern to her people. She needed to do something, anything, quickly. A snap decision was made, Maria turning on her heel with deft speed, charging back into the guild. It was a race against the clock. The majority of people were far too wrapped up in the spectacle of violence drumming on outside. Every second she was in here, was a second Mactovak could die--or kill his target--and disappear into the streets. All the same, she had to try something, rather than watch from the side-lines.

Her footfall reverberated heavily off the upper-floor, with desperation she bent down hand outstretched, clutching the key within her heel, lurching to the keyhole of the end-door. A familiar 'click' resounded before her. Pushing the door open with haste, Maria worked to strip the Royal dress from her skins embrace, before clumsily donning the padded trousers and cloth gambeson that a recruit would wear. For anonymity's sake, she fitted a simple dark face mask over her mouth and nose. A simple scruff of the hair later, and she was charging from the room with divine-intent. Left hand grasping her round steel shield, embroidered with the face of a roaring lion, positioned beside the door. Her main hand wrapped around the ornate, patterned straightsword.

her heart battered against her chest, breaths growing wild and ragged as she broke into a rapid sprint towards the scene. As her feet cried against the sudden workload, a sound akin to a lighting flame filled the environment, but something more sinister. Through the doors, she caught sight of a vibrant white flash, and the mumbling commotion of a great crowd. Leaping from the doors Maria's eyes combed the crowd for Mactovak, a variety of faces reflected back towards her. Some confused guards, other entertained Warmasters--but mostly horrified citizens.

"There's one of them! Get him!" A cry for pursuit yelled, a singular guard motioning up to a large-figure diving from roof-to-roof caught in a blood-thirsted chase, like a starved wolf hunting a lone deer. "Out of my way!" Maria bellowed towards the crowd, brandishing her sword in a threatening poise. The motion caused a quick murmur, even the Warmasters moved aside for fear of an unwarranted assault. "Hold, miss!" A guard called, clearly unimpressed by her threat.

The man was unfortunately in her way, Mactovak's figure was still moving in the distance--he was reaching a dead end--he'd have to climb back to street level, and she knew exactly where. Viciously, her shield charged out--an epic 'thung' echoed across the street, the guard immediately dropping to the floor as the circular steel bulwark clocked his helmet, like a rampant bull charge. Warning bells resounded through the area, she was officially being chased by the city guard. The irony was not lost on her.

Weighed down by an assortment of armour, the guards were hopeless in their pursuit--the Princess knew these streets better than the Palace--she could reach Mactovak through various shortcuts, the quickest of which being an old assortment of tactically placed breaches in the walls, created by smugglers and thieves for unsavoury midnight deeds. Even as her ragged breath grew course and her throat tightened in a cry for air, Maria's cumbersome legs never faltered in their movement. She'd been a warrior for years now, a measly sprint would hardly defeat her. Though it felt like an eternity, she soon burst from an opening in the alley's rundown wall. "Mactovak!" She commanded once more, shield and sword brandished defensively. She trusted the orc enough, but after that recent bloodrage she could hardly be certain of his mindset.

With shortened gasps, the Princess closed to s sudden halt, gaze resting on the Theranoxian Prince laying crumpled on the ground, a bloodied puddle at his head as a red stream trickled down his temple. Fatigue washed over her like a cascade of emotion, an overwhelming desire to just slide down against the wall and sleep, not that she dared rest a moment longer however. This would all be a waste if the orc bled out upon the rough cobblestone.

"Get up!" Maria hissed to the unconscious orc, kneeling down beside him to inspect the brutal head-wound. Her hands clasped the orcs head gently, cradling it away from the stone ground. She had little-to-no experience in wound treatment, it seemed the only option was to sit here and await arrest--for both her and the Prince of Theranox--her identity would have the city talking for days. She couldn't say she was looking forward to being under house arrest for the rest of her life, was it worth it?
​

 

[Hyydra]

A dazed state... the green blood against the stone thick and muddy. His scent wasn't the most welcoming, the sweat covering his body with adrenaline and worry. His eyes drooped, but his head began to move on its own, not to the re-positioning Maria provided for him. He turned his head in a counter-clockwise formation, his eyes suddenly, but slowly, starting to open. He saw her. He, however, did not see the elf.

His swords were not with him. That much he knew. How much time passed was unknown, but by the worried look upon the princess' face, and the fact that he was not somewhere else, he would assume that no large amount of time had escaped.

But he did. He escaped.

The Orc sat up suddenly, looking around to acknowledge that guards would be after him. He was ignorant to her danger. He staggered to get up, sprinting forth from her arms along the wall, though he was dizzy. He began leaning downwards to the left, eventually falling back down to the ground. He felt ultimately pathetic at that moment. But that didn't stop him. He violently shook his head with a snarl, pushing himself up. Surprisingly that helped. Turning around, he looked to the princess, though she did not look it at that moment. That was who he knew.

Then the guards game, sprinting towards him, as they saw him alone. There were few, others were most likely taking the evidence of the combat. He made eye contact with her for a moment, his face worried. Distract. That's what he would do. A flinch of a nod, then throwing his arms back and head forward like forever ago, when they first met. He roared mightily. He would at least get one of them out of here. His blood pulsed from his wound with his rage, but he didn't care.

He charged forward, looking to the halberd who attempted to stab him. Spinning, he smacked the center with his foot after a quick leap, shoulder charging into the guard to push the other two into the wall along with him. Then he felt a sword beginning to pierce his back. Quickly did he roll into it, feeling the sharp sting as he snarled, entering and exiting on his skin. He'd most definitely take that rather than muscular damage. Grasping onto the sword by the blade, he slammed his fist onto the soldier's helm, pounding violently twice upon it, sending the warrior down easily.

Holding his new, steel sword, he looked to the others, who were all attempting to get up. However, he was having his own troubles doing the same. His knees were bent fairly, at least enough to notice. His chest expanded quickly, as he was losing his stamina quicker now. Not knowing if she was behind him or not, he still chose to look into the sky once more, roaring out towards her. "Run!!! Take with the winds!!!" However, he felt little heroic. He knew that that would be the climax of his side of the combat. Eventually, he would pass out, or they would kill him. Or both. He did not know what to do, but he chose to stand there and fight.

 

[Aether1]

Maria stood up briskly, eyes wide and in shock at the sudden second wind that found Mactovak; yet the surprise came and left like an early morning's breeze, the large orc hobbled and buckled, collapsing to the jagged-stone of the alley like a sack of rocks. "Stop Mactovak, it's over!" Maria hissed after the orc, angry and resentful. This envoy of self-admission had brought a blood-feud to her city and, in his arrogance, was caught not once--but twice--Maria was forced to acknowledge her own involvement in the events. A desire to play Knight and run off in gallivanting adventure was her own undoing.

And it was all for what? She didn't save the orc, she followed him to a dead-end where he promptly knocked himself out. There was no question about it, this pursuit of a blood-eyed elf as white as snow lead him to his death. The guards would unmask Maria, she would spend the rest of Edric's rule under permanent House Arrest, Mactovak would likely be tortured and executed. War with Theranox be damned, the King couldn't care less. As if in sync with her thoughts, Maria's eyes clasped shut as the echoes of heavy-footfall resounded off the narrow walls, the bells rang out in deft alarm, yells of desperate apprehension from the City Guard growing ever closer.

Maria's mind filled with a hazed fizzle, high-pitched ringing invading her mind. Blue eyes fluttered open slowly, the ringing stopped. Sounds of imminent hopelessness returned. She held the sword and shield without intent, the armaments of war hanging loosely as she gave up. her eyes snapped up as a threatening roar filled the air, Mactovak's final vestiges of strength pressed into desperate combat; the orc wanted to go down fighting, there was respectable glory in that. Thromar would approve. In a wave of flurry he pressed forward, meeting steel with flesh.

Then he spoke, a command. To run, Maria blinked in confusion--or was it surprise? This wasn't a last stand--it was a sacrifice. A slither of gentle wind brushed past, dancing along her skin like invisible flakes. Her crown of gold fluttering effortlessly in tandem with the wind like a perfect dance. Time seemed to freeze, the words morphed in repeat like a crone's curse.

Exhaling deeply, Maria's gaze shot up, her hands wrapped around sword and board with passionate intent. Throwing herself forward, Maria joined the fray with the eminence of a hurricane, so caught up in their conflict with the great orc, the group were caught entirely offguard. The first one hit the ground with an audible thud, the momentum from Maria's shield-first charge sending him rolling several feet across the ground. The flurry of attacks didn't end there, deftly spinning to her left with sword-arm raised high, Maria swiped down viciously, the guard haplessly guarding his head with his shield, the loud ringing of steel drumming on steel respondent as she beat the inexperienced defendant to the ground with strike after expert-strike.

A third assailant briskly tried his luck with a lunging thrust, yet the blade met only air as Maria sidestepped at the perfect moment, bringing her beside the exposed guard, her left arm hooking heavily into the guard's leg shield first, she felt the snap followed closely by the agonizing cries of pain. It was non-lethal, but perhaps she'd ruined his career as a Guard.

"You need to flee the city," Maria called to Mactovak authoritatively as the remainder of the guards entered a state of unconsciousness through their combined assault. Gasping with short breath, Maria strangled her huffing and approached the orc with heavy-feet. "We need to get back to the Guild, Thromar can get you out." Her eyes stared intently into his own, soft features hardening as she couldn't help but wonder how she got wrapped up in this mess. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact it was entirely her fault. The orc didn't drag her into this, if anything, he tried to keep her from it. The odds were horrendously against them, even now.

 

[Hyydra]

The orc thought this would be the last of his hours. He was tired, they were murderous, though he was not. He would harm, yes, but not kill, as they were "respectable" subjects of hers. However, he found it mightily strange that they did not respect her, and at that same moment, he forgot about her incognito profile. So from there, he heavily breathed, finding surprise in the girl returning, combatting with him. And so they would do so.

Another would attempt to impale him, stabbing straight towards his torso. He was blessed enough to twirl to his right, all the while bringing down his steel sword upon the warrior's, sending it into the ground as he departed one hand from his handle, slamming it against the man's helm, rattling him like an animal's cage as he dropped to his knees and slumbered before he even hit the ground fully. It was enough adrenaline to keep him pumped, for now, as she soon would turn to him and speak.

She wasn't wrong, that was for sure. The odds of either of them coming out of this alive if they simply stood their ground was less than slim- it wasn't existent. So with that in mind, he took her knowledge of the guild and put that to use. He could only pray that Thromar was there, as he would be the only one to help him, and the only one there who knew him other than Maria. So with that, he stared into here eyes for a split second after she was done telling him her plan, sprinting past her towards the guild hall once more. He normally would've lifted a comrade of her size and weight up and ran, as it would be faster, but as of right now he was not in the shape to do so much as sprint for a long time. His blood dried over his wound, though some seeped out of the split, adding to the scar. He could only hope now that she would provide him and her safety. Leaving one behind was a great dishonor to him personally, regardless of his culture.

 

[Aether1]

The orc nodded his consent to her plan, that was all the signal Maria needed to take sprint after the orc, the duo retracing earlier steps. Even now, the sounds of bells ringing across the city was all too present, it wasn't a lockdown, but it was a manhunt. For once, the woman was grateful for her earlier lack of time, had she been fully armored this sprint would have been nigh impossible. Mactovak's own fatigue and injuries aside, she still struggled to keep up with his ungodly long legs.​

​

Maria expended more willpower than she ever hoped fighting the vicious burning in her chest and the thrashing pain crawling along her feet and through her legs, breath course and rough, the woman wheezed as the looming fort that housed the guild spiraled into sight. Maria hissed with rage, noticing the former scene where Mactovak had fought his target was crawling with dozens of guards, coincidentally, that was the only trail into the guild. The secret entrances were scattered across the city, far too distant to reach.​

​

Then her heart dropped, ceasing in her chest as hooves clashed upon stone from behind. Maria's eyes widened in both shock and horror, Derrick's armored figure looming with polished shine, reflecting the sun's gaze brilliantly. With desperate attempt she thrust her feet forward, making for the Guild's gates just moments behind the orc. Brother or not, Derrick was still in-charge of he cities defences. He was here to arrest the orc, and surely witnessed the duo entering the Guild.

This was less worrying than it was incredibly awkward. "You've really outdone yourself this time." Thromar's voice resounded from aside. The man's arms folded in a disapproving stance, but his voice was glad for her safety. Maria smirked, opening her mouth to speak but was quickly halted b Thromar's raised hand. "If we're caught smuggling you out of the city, it'll spark a civil war that the Guild can't win."

The looming wooden doors pushed open, the Princess' face fell as her brother stood ther with a weary gaze. For a moment, it appeared Thromar had betrayed her. "Which is why Derrick will be getting you out." Maria halted, both shocked at Derrick's compliance to betray his own vows so casually, and the way in which Thromar kept staring at her with the word 'you'.

"Hold on just a moment," The woman protested fiercely, "What's to stop you from escorting me back to the palace and throwing Mactovak in a cell?" She questioned with a pointed glare at Derrick. "Well, to be honest, nothing. Do you really place such little trust in me, sister?" He attempted with humour, only earning him a joint glare from her and Thromar. "Okay, fine. I'm aware that this is going to get me demoted, and I'll be escorted everywhere by the King's men no matter where I go. But the truth is, we simply can't win a war with Theranox. Mactovak will be executed--or worse, if Edric has his way. You need to leave the city with him. Otherwise you'll be locked in the palace like a prisoner, he knows Maria. He sent me here to arrest you both."

For several long moments, Maria's voice ceased in her throats. She had a million questions and concerns that all needed answering, yet she couldn't bring herself to voice a single one. She'd just been told by her own brother that she was officially being exiled from her home. Information like that packed a very hefty punch. "You won't be alone out there, the Guild has outposts scattered across Eranov. You know the password."

"I hate to press you, but this has gone on too long already. It's only a matter of time until Father realizes I'm disobeying his orders and helping you escape. We need to go."

​

 

[Hyydra]

The orc was panting, his heart pounding violently against his chest, wishing to tear out of himself and hunt down the elf he had previously caused a scene with. He was ignoring all they were saying, though he found interest in hearing about his execution, how lovely that would be. But now they were both criminals, and that was of highest concern to him. Because of his rage, she was now in troubl- no, no. He already knew, this was not the reason she was in trouble. He convinced himself such as he continue to pace, wanting so eagerly to get on with it and search for this most vile enemy once more.

But how could he? He fumbled through his head. But he knew the true answer, he just did not want to confess it. It was something he could not put her through, should she choose to follow him. It indeed was of highest caution and utmost danger, should they encounter what dwelled in those caverns once more.

However, he snapped back into reality when Derrick spoke up once more. "Yes, we should leave!" The orc barked out, more in panic than in anger. It was something of discomfort, being pinned in a cage like an animal. In some way, he felt he lost still, the true hatred for his kind shined brightly on that day. But he wouldn't concern himself with that for too long. He looked to Maria and Thromar, his eyes aflame with eagerness to leave. "Where shall we go?" He spoke with sudden calmness now, as if that was the better attitude to go about things, which it was.

However, deep in his thoughts, he knew something had to be done. He would not let this man go, not after what he's promised, as well what he'd done. What pained him the most is that Maria would continue to want to know of this, and he still could not tell her. In time, he would have to explain to her, it would mean taking his own life. However, for now, that was not of concern. What was of concern was finding an offering.

 

[Aether1]

Thromar scoffed lightly, throwing an enormous fur-coat to the looming orc, large enough to conceal his identity at least partially. "That will be for you two to decide, I'd accompany you myself, but my absence would be incriminating to the guild in the eyes of the King." Thromar replied with a curt nod, "Not that it matters, we will have eyes on your travels." Understanding his, Maria could do little more than nod hesitantly. She fought the overwhelming desire to pull Thromar and her brother into a tight embrace, it would be a sign of weakness in the eyes of an orc no doubt. "Well then, let us be off." She ushered with a meek smile, it seemed she didn't need to act of her own accord. Derrick's arms wrapped around her, even despite the armour, it was a much needed hug.

"This won't last for long, the King is old." Derrick attempted to reassure, though his words of comfort fell on deaf ears. "Go." Thromar grumbled somewhat impatiently, causing the duo to break off and turn to the door, walking in a hastened stride. Outside lay the guards loyal to Derrick, with his horse and two spare provided. For herself and Mactovak, leaping upon the horse, her eyes scanned the surrounding commotion. Guards eyed the orc with disgust, but dared not act whilst the Crown-Prince and his Household Guard were granting him protection.

Maria quickly followed suite as Derrick broke off into a gallop down the city roads, expertly dodging oblivious citizens and travelling merchant wagons. The ringing of ells continued to ring out across the city, shrouded only by heavy clapping of horse hooves across the pebbled streets. The distant gates wide with welcoming intent, the watchmen above making no room to protest the incoming cavalry. Maria noted how casual they seemed, men working for her brother no doubt. Eyes flickering to the armoured male once more, she spared one last glance. Eyes betraying emotions to many to count, his contingency broke to a halt and though no words were spoke, he offered her a gentle smile, nodding for her to go.

And so she did, breaking from Eranov in a rapid gallop, tailing Mactovak to somewhere else, where she could not say. It felt like they'd rode for hours, the sun having crawled behind the looming Vengarli mountains by the time they'd slowed to a steady trot. Maria thought for many long moments over a way to break the ice, to open conversation with her new travelling companion. Yet she never made the effort, instead riding in relatively awkward silence. She hated herself for ever getting involved in his mess, now she--a Royal Princess--was an outlaw, was that really better than being a Palace Prisoner?​