“Elven architecture has a variety of different epochs that allows one to estimate their age just by a glance. Modern architecture contains traces of the past, with the sleekness of their spires being a distinctive feature compared to the more squared towers of the under empires or the also rounded but far thicker towers employed in humanity’s defense. Pre-Twilight era architecture also retains that thin, needle like appearance, but mostly twist and turn to accompany the massive trees that cover their forest homes. Leading to unusual and outlandish designs that embrace the unique advancements of the elven race coupled with hints of modernity, but also the coexistence with nature. Before that, only Myndiri ruins and sketches of their buildings give us any clues as to how their buildings looked then. In this regard, most surviving evidence points to them as being the progenitor of many architectural designs, with ruins of their fortified buildings looking more akin to what we may now think of as Traxian or Gratian style fortresses today, more in line with proto-imperial styles before the Second Liberation War. With the added caveat of an increased emphasis on a few more distinctly elven features in their decor.”


    -??Architect Konrad Berrigan, Architect of the Traxian Temple of Revered Martyrs, “Timeless Facades: Buildings of the Past - Chapter 5: On the Elves”


    <hr><hr>


    Sea travel is meant for those blessed by Euthynia or those with exceptionally tolerant constitutions, blessed be for us to be returned to Tessadus’s domain once more. I- “Urk… geh,” Mila groaned as her stomach grumbled in turmoil once more, “Fuck.”


    The sailors nearby let out another round of uproarious laughter, their amused cries cutting through the noise of the dockyard. But she did not have long to direct her ire at them, the putrid bitterness rising up to her mouth and forcing her to her knees as she ejected another stream of vomit down into the harbor. It was a thankfully short expulsion, though she still heaved in agony as her nausea gripped her in its grasp. Forgive me honored Goddess Euthynia, I disrespect your blood. “Ughh…”


    Her throat burned, dry and in pain from her efforts, the acidic aftertaste unfortunately lingering far longer than she was comfortable with. Sweat dripped from her brow and she could do nothing but dry heave a few more times as whatever churned within her continued its vicious assault. How utterly unpleasant.


    A shadow loomed over her and the distinctive clink of a canteen being unscrewed echoed from above. Exhausted and spent, Mila turned around and gratefully accepted the water, taking great care to not press her lips onto the canteen itself. She gargled a quick mouthful before spitting it out into the sea, the taste of bile still not entirely removed. “Ugh, thanks.” She murmured half heartedly.


    The ranger gave her a small grunt of acknowledgement, turning away once she was sure that Mila could now recover properly. The small tap from her crutch as she walked gave Mila a bad memory of her time on the ship. Every step sounded like that, Mila shuddered. Still, they were finally back on land and she could unwind a little. After all, she had spent what little dignity she had throwing up, all she could do now was just curl up in a ball and relax. Sadly, she had a duty to be done and forced herself to stand back up. She washed her mouth one last time and staggered to her feet, slowly plodding after Annalise.


    Despite her suffering, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of derision towards Annalise. To be so caught up in the throes of love for what was at most a week-long relationship seemed bizarre to Mila. It was like dedicating oneself to protecting a person for an unspecified amount of time extending to infinity just a day after meeting them. Stupid maid. She groaned as another gurgle escaped her stomach, but her condition was stabilising at the very least. On that she could find herself to agree with the half elf. Just as that girl couldn’t ride a horse properly, Mila would never willingly take to the seas without a good reason. Yet she also felt a small amount of pity for the ranger, to be so lost that she would get attached so quickly to the first thing that showed her affection. She had felt that, once.


    Shaking off her malaise she rallied up with the ranger, the sailors having helpfully unloaded their supplies for them. The ranger finished paying off their transportation fees and turned to meet Mila’s gaze. The inquisitor let out a small shrug. She would accomplish her duties whatever the condition she was in, and, if they were setting off now then so be it.


    “Ready to move?” Mila asked.


    “Mmm.” Annalise grunted.


    It was still strange to see Annalise so hung up about someone, so worried. The ranger had usually been the one to take charge or bark out commands, to joke when things seemed grim. Now, she was far more quiet and sullen in contrast. Mila sighed, she was getting softer the more she stuck around this group of misfits. If Inquisitor Serilda was around Mila was certain that she would be getting a mouthful from her mentor for this unregulated excursion. Taurox was, hopefully, a bit more understandable having been around them for a while longer, though she just could feel the dispiriting feeling that this would also get reported back to Inquisitor Von Krantz, her currently assigned senior officer. So it was just as well then, that the plan was for herself and Annalise to head straight for Harweald, check up on the girl, and head straight back to Arteria. At least that’s the plan.


    She staggered over to her horse, Ashen Mane or Ash. It neighed haughtily at her approach, annoyed at the long sea journey but appearing far more healthy than herself. Upon his back she saddled up her packs and the supplies dropped off by the sailors, tying them firmly to the saddle bags and reaching into one to pull out a small handful of grass and bits of a carrot. Ash eyed her warily, perhaps suspect of her pallid complexion but wasted only a moment before he lapped all of it up and began munching on the treats. She gave him a gentle caress before she tugged on his reigns, the steed giving her another wary look before letting her lead him along.


    Annalise listlessly followed along slightly behind them, the ranger sitting atop her mount even within the town’s limits, though with good reason. Annalise was a cripple, her leg having been torn off during fighting before Mila’s time with the motley group, yet, she was still going, still pushing forward against whatever esoteric goal that Sophie the maid now sought to accomplish. That in itself earned the ranger more than a few points of respect in Mila’s eyes. Her skills too weren’t much affected though she definitely couldn’t just unsling and fire. That much was certain from their time spent on the road and in Melisgrad. Right, the river town. Mila growled at the memory. She turned to nod at the ranger, signaling for them to get moving, the girl seemed a little out of it but did nod back.


    Mila had, after all, browsed through all the maps they could get their hands on to chart the ideal, safe and quickest route to Harweald. Preparation is key, whether things go right or wrong, a well prepared inquisitor is one who is more likely to succeed regardless. She checked her armour, making the straps still fit snugly and no vulnerabilities were present. Then she double checked her weapons and their rations. Then she flicked a cursory glance at the ranger to make sure the archer still seemed relatively functional.


    Then she furrowed her brow as the memory of the ranger saving her at the river town snuck intrusively into her mind. The feelings of guilt and shame at not just having put the two of them in danger, but at how even now, she still couldn’t always shake away the past. She remembered how the sight of the village had mirrored her own, how the devastation had been absolute. How by the time she emerged from the rubble, she was likely the only soul that survived out of thousands. Though the scale had shifted, she could see, feel, how the people had suffered and it stung. Worse yet, Sophie’s surprise arrival had led to their ill fated excursion into Melisgrad, the city of hundreds of thousands turned into little more than a ghost town, tainted by foul heresy. It was perhaps only the Goddess’s blessings that led the rest of the inquisitorial force based in Melton westward, putting them in prime position to hold back the evils that still plagued the lands. May it be purged indeed, whatever ghastly ritual the cult was trying to do, at least it''s over for now.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Truthfully, Mila had wanted to remain in Arteria, to interrogate the half elf even more on all the recent happenings. Alongside that, she always wanted to prod her for any other information about her visions, especially about the ones relating to the past. Alas, seeing Annalise’s despondent state upon learning about the orcish raids across the frontiers, Mila had reluctantly decided to accompany the ranger. The same desperation that had once been in her own eyes a long time ago now reflected in the ranger''s. Though she dared not say it at the time, she knew that Annalise had also clocked onto the fact that ‘recent’ news was likely already two weeks old, now, maybe three weeks and then some given the travel time. That there was a possibility they were already too late.


    Her vision of what they should do involved traveling at speed to a post town, Fernsreach, and hitching a ride along with any caravans heading north east in the direction of Harweald. It would take a few days of hard riding and exposing themselves to moderate danger from any lingering wildlife or even cultists. But it would be quicker than taking the main roads and safer than cutting a straight path through the Meltonian lowlands, a likely easy place for any lingering ambushes to take down two stray travelers. It required some amount of luck to rendezvous with any caravans at Fernsreach. However, logically at least one caravan of significant size likely passed it any given week, considering the path’s importance in cutting out a few days of travel from west to east.


    In Mila’s opinion it had been well thought out at least; no one could say that she didn’t come prepared. Though Annalise did want to head straight for Harweald, Mila was thankful that the girl was reasonable enough to eventually let herself get talked out of it, ultimately agreeing to the inquisitor’s plan.


    With a huff and a push, she mounted Ash and gave the horse a friendly bop on the head, their traditional signal for hard travel. Ash neighed his displeasure, but nonetheless, shook off his seabourne inaction and indicated his readiness. Mila turned back to Annalise, the ranger giving her a curt nod. We’re all ready to go then. She tightened her hold on Ash’s reins and, with a steady gallop, they were off.


    <hr><hr>


    One potential snag in their plan of so quickly deviating from the more well traveled roads is that they were certain to cross the land of the Draeceni beastfolk. Though nominally the Barony of Draecen was ruled by Meltonian administrators and nobles, in truth, it still remained mostly populated by the beastfolk and subject to constant ‘service assignment’ campaigns. Whereupon Meltonian forces would conscript a large number of the land’s inhabitants, enslaving them or throwing them into servitude. Rebellion happened often enough that it was rumored one such revolt happened during the War of Two Princes, though it was utterly crushed under High King Edward. Still, it meant that she would have to maintain vigilance the whole journey, aware that two travelers with no especially noteworthy protection could prove an easy target to half starved rebels.


    It wasn’t that Mila felt dismissive of them or afraid of harming another sentient being. Goddess only knows how many unspeakable evils they had to put down during her time with her mentor, with many of them being sentient humanoid or even humans altogether. Death was but another solution to quell evil. It was the idea of doing so with no inquisitorial writ that irked her. For if they did get ambushed, it could be by misguided but still loyal believers of Astralis, and to her, it seemed a risky business at the end of it. Perhaps on some levels, she felt as if she had a smidgen of sympathy for the beastfolk of Draecen. With their lands historically being thrown under occupation by neighbouring powers, they likely yearned to enjoy their freedoms. Only for the Meltonians to snag them once again.


    Draecen itself wasn’t a broken land like its people. Much like much of the Meltonian lowlands, lush green hills rolled into one another, the gentle glow of moonlight basking the land in an ethereal but beautiful light. Old trees stretched high towards the moon as younger ones swayed in rhythm to the soft breeze that brushed the landscape. Though it would be more uncomfortable, Mila had demanded a strict no campfire journey until they reached Fernsreach. Once in a caravan, security wouldn’t be as large a concern, but as it stands, camping in the Meltonian wilderness was dangerous enough without a beacon to confirm their presence. Annalise had taken it all remarkably well, having resorted to grunting or groaning her words most of the day.


    Mila sighed at the thought, picking herself up and strolling over to where she and the ranger made camp. Mila took first and second watch, Annalise the third and fourth. She popped her head into their tent to find the ranger peacefully asleep, Annalise’s worries seemed forgotten assuming the small smile on her sleeping face was any indication of her mental state. Mila took in the sight and grinned; there was a certain joy in peace; that much she could appreciate in her time spent with Serilda. She shuffled closer and pulled the ranger’s quilt up closer to the ranger, since the girl splayed out across the bedroll after she had kicked away her blanket earlier.


    She felt her own brows furrow at the sleeping ranger, her own doubts now coming to the forefront after the warm feelings dissipated. None of the others had ever looked at her as warmly as she just felt toward the ranger. Perhaps the maid, but even then, it was only when the half elf purportedly entertained visions of the past, however improbable that might be for any besides a seer. Not that she was jealous or missing anything, Mila just felt a small sense of sadness, but she would persevere, as she always did.


    Before she could back out, a sudden hand snatched hers and drew her in much to her confusion. Annalise had a surprisingly firm grip and the ranger pulled Mila’s hand to her cheek, cradling it like some tiny child. Mila froze, the inquisitor was caught off guard and just let it happen for around a minute before trying to pry herself loose. She found it quite off putting at how Annalise seemed to involuntarily caress her hand, the strange sensation sending tingles down her spine.


    Carefully she managed to slip her hand out of the ranger’s grasp, the girl’s sleeping smile falling almost instantly. Reluctantly, Mila reached down to brush her hair and offer some small sense of comfort in return. She did feel a strange sense of deja-vu, wondering if this strange feeling in her chest was the same that Karelia shared that fateful eve. The strange desire to protect such a person, a desire of which had birthed the idea which led her to tag along with Serilda in the first place. Seeing the ranger’s face morph into something between a smile and a grin, Mila was satisfied and pulled away.


    She stepped back out of the tent and tried to wipe the grin off her own face to no avail. She looked up to the sky and sniffed in the cool Meltonian air. It certainly felt far better than the sea breeze, far less salty. Her eyes found themselves examining their surroundings, the two horses likely asleep already, the small brush line that surrounded them the only separator between the Meltonian port town of Orcanus and Dracen. It was a fitting place to make camp in her eyes, a brief extension of their respite before they entered into uncertain territory.


    Mila stretched her arms and returned back to watch, gently sitting down back on her little perch on a rock. She turned her eyes back to the area around them, searching the darkness for any signs of trouble. Upon locating none, she returned to her rituals, murmuring soft blessings and meditating whilst keeping her ears alert.


    The past few months had been quite bizarre for her. She had chased the undead in Eichafen with the Inquisitorial hunt, led an evacuation to Melton before investigating a cult in Harweald, then Melisgrad, Arteria, and now they were back again. Not only that, she had been assigned to take care of what could potentially become a harbinger of things to come, to babysit the maid instead of just seizing her for the inquisition. Whatever reservations she held though, she couldn’t dispute Senior Inquisitor Von Krantz’s methods. Sophie was ever so slightly growing on her, and she also noted that their experiences had proved to plant the maid in the camp firmly opposed to the encroachment of the coming darkness.


    However, the idea of an oncoming darkness made Mila shudder. She had been appraised of Serilda’s actions in the frigid north when her mentor met her in Marrest. The Ingramarian Principalities were in turmoil. A horde of demonic entities and undead had swept over the Western Bastions, breaching a weakened part of the defences and rampaging across most of the Frostfields. Unlike the slow trickle of chaos that currently bled into Melton, Ingramar had been devastated beyond belief. Only through careful manoeuvring did Serilda manage to evacuate a few villages before sealing the passages between Ingramar and the rest of Cyndralia. Mila had kept her emotions in check, but the knowledge that she would no longer be able to return to the town she once called home did sting, even if it was to just pray over the ruins. Though Marsun, the capital, and a few other Principalities still defended their domains, the fate of the north had already been decided, consigned to oblivion by the inquisition. But were we wrong? It feels bad knowing we sacrificed the people, but how could we even hope to stop a demon horde as we are now? Could this really be a new Dark Tide?


    Shaking off her malaise, she tried to distract her thoughts and emptied her mind, the unpleasant sensation never quite leaving. But the night drew on and she found she had a duty to fulfil. Keep them safe until Annalise’s turn on watch. That much, she could do. With her attention restored to her surroundings, she allowed herself one small thought to be turned towards Arteria, I hope the others are doing alright.