The landscape could not be articulated in normal words. It was just there. Immutable yet wavering. There was light but not from any visible source. For no sun adorned the alien sky. If it could be called a sky. No light crystal, no lamps, no brazier and yet there was visibility. To state that the land was devoid of life would be a lie. Creatures dwelt in the inhospitable domain. Though their nature eluded me. Their presence, more of a feeling than a visual confirmation and I was watched.

No hostile intent. Not a curious observation and the presence felt so familiar, comfortable and unknown at the same time. As if a part of me unconsciously recognised some forgotten memory. The landscape altered. The terrain changed. Sandy deserts changed to rocky gorges and then to a surreal shore. A shore without any sea, any river or lake and still, my subconscious recognised it only as a shore.

“It is your mind projecting what you perceive on a familiar form,” the voice of Vangere resonated.

I pushed aside the distant memory of Vangere.

The landscape still continued its vibrant metamorphosis as if attempting to impress upon me. The denizens of this weird world changed, the ground itself transformed continuously, evolving from one form to another and yet the ever vigilant, watching presence still accompanied me.

The feeling of familiarity grew intense, followed by a soothing feeling of comfort. Then, there was Lyria.

Her smile, radiant enough to make ships raise their sails. Her gaze, piercing enough to make me go weak on my knees. Her expression, serene and all-encompassing as if attempting to coddle my tumultuous heart. Her arms crossed across her chest as if in defiance to the evanescent nature of the land. Her feet, the only thing firmly rooted in the deceptive place. She seemed least perturbed by the hellish landscape.

I took my step towards her.

“Lyria, love, I.... we....,” words failed as I wrestled with my own emotion.

“Rils, You have taken care of yourself.” A sad smile crossed her pristine face.

“Lyria, You are....alive.” I botched the words like a fool, “I am flawed..... failed......without you.”

“You should stop.” Her clear voice cut through the silence in the eerie place. A voice pleading and yet commanding. A voice that is a request from a lover and a decree from a sovereign, at the same time

“But I pledged my love to you,” the words faltered, “I cannot Come, I will take you away. Please.”

As if responding to my plea, the strange denizens of the surreal eerie land gathered. Not bothering to hide their hostility.

“You should not be here,” repeated Lyria. Her face, a jumble of expressions.

“Magistra Rylonvirah, It is time.”

I ignored it, for nothing is more important than the breathtaking woman in front of me.

“You are not supposed to be here. Please, Leave. I am begging you. Do not seek me.” Her voice reduced to a feeble whimper.

“Magistra, you are needed. Magistra.”

“I lost you once, but never again,” I declared as loud as I could and willed my defiant feet to move. To move closer to Lyria, to grab her, to get her out of this nightmarish realm. My steps were hindered by an invisible barrier. A barrier that made the surrounding air feel as thick as molasses and got thicker with every step I took.

Lyria raised her left hand, to reach out to me, to touch me and everything collapsed,

And then I woke up.

---

Vitalia, fluttered around in my room. A room that we rented or rather Theodore rented for us, in the finest inn that Westerleygate had to offer. The room was spacious enough to be called luxurious. The exquisitely carved mahogany bed, a clear indication that this room was otherwise meant for visiting lords, at the behest of Theodore now hosted a simple mercenary like me.

I pushed the velvet sheets away and rose from the bed.

“I apologise, Magistra, to disturb your sleep. But you are needed.”

For the fae to appear directly inside the city, Something must have happened.

We have just reached Westerleygates yesterday. Ellie, Anselm and the survivors were provided temporary accommodations at an interim camp outside the town walls but within the protective arms of the town guards. Jorrel, took it as a personal mission to safeguard their interim camp with additional sentries and guards. Though, the heavy silver chains that two of the muscular sentries carried, implied Jorrel’s mistrust in Rodo and his companions. The interim camp as much as to protect the survivors as to protect the townsfolk from the survivors.

“Should I instruct the servants to draw a bath?” Her gaze swept towards an alcove adjoining the room.

“That will not be necessary. I will inform them myself. Thank you, Provost.”

“You seemed to have experienced a nightmare. I misread you, Magistra. Even someone as battle-hardened as you would suffer from the after-effects of the battle. After all, it takes a toll on all of us.”

I avoided looking in her direction and simply hung my head low.

“Yes, You are right, Provost. It did have its toll on me. Guess I am not as invulnerable as I would like to be.” I scoffed and gave a wry laugh. Better to let the fae think that the surreal nightmare was related to the effect of the battle.

“If that is all, I will take my leave. Pending lessons await me.” The fae gave a brief smile, followed by a very short sigh.

---

The knock came as I finished my bath. While I wrapped myself in the provided bathrobe, a second knock came.

“Who is it?”

“Lady Rylonvirah,” sounded a familiar voice from the other side of the door, “it is me, Razzia. I have two parlour Maids with me. We have brought some clothes to make.....,”

“I thought the meeting was supposed to be private.” I cut in.

“Yes, it is. But Sir Theodore passed us some coins and instructed us to bring you some basic amenities. He said that you would greatly appreciate it.”

“That is very perceptive of him. Please convey my thanks to Sir Theodore and please leave them outside. I can dress myself.”

There was a moment of silence and then Razzia cleared her throat.

“Very well. As you wish.”

After a moment of silence, I heard Razzia utter to the maids in a low voice. “Take the corset back, she won't be needing it.”

---

Razzia, contrary to what I expected still waited at the entrance. There was no sign of her supposed company of parlour maids. Either her social status increased or she inherited a fortune from a far distant and now-deceased relative, for her, she was clad in finery not normally worn by a panhandler.

“Razzia, you seem well.” I chuckled as I descended the limestone stairs.

“Greetings Lady Rylonvirah.” She stood and swiped the back of her multilayered skirt with the palm of her velvet-gloved hand. Razzia adjusted the lace-patterned hem of her skirt before she made an elegant curtesy bow.

“I take it that You are asked to protect me till the meeting?”

“I would not dare to. In fact, there is no one suitable enough for the task. For the Shattered Shield needs neither guardians nor escorts.” Her hands held each other at the wrist while her face still bore a controlled smile.

“Lead the way then.”

“As the lady wishes, the coach await us. This way please,” saying that, she made a simple bow of her head and gestured towards the bright elaborately carved entrance.

---

The interior of the coach was as unremarkably decorated as the exterior. Thick sturdy mahogany wood held by metal joints and railing for stability. The upholstered leather seats were meant more for comfort than a show of extravagance. A pantone green velvet curtain hung alongside both the windows providing a measure of privacy. Combined with the redwood brown of the exterior, the pantone green shades were selected more for the visual effect of keeping the coach as inconspicuous as possible.

As the coach started its rhythmic motion, snaking its way through the main streets, heavy hoofbeats joined on either side. No doubt, Knights of House Wysteria.

Once I settled into the flow of the coach, my attention turned towards the only other inhabitant, Razzia.

“Am I safe to assume that with this your mission is at an end?” I probed Razzia.

“Such thoughts are beyond me, Lady Rylonvirah. Answers best left in capable hands.” She replied as she crossed her hands over her lap.

“But you collect information. I would like to hear your thoughts.” I persisted in my curiosity.

“I must disappoint you, Lady of the Shattered Shield. Humble me, cannot provide any insights that you require.” She gave her brightest smile and tilted her head down.

“You know stroking my ego does no good.” I scoffed at her.

“I would not dare to, Lady Rylonvirah.” The defiance, still evident.

“We have fought together, under circumstances and not of our willing choice. So why do you insist on calling me the Shattered Shield. You should be aware by now, I do not carry a shield.”

“But that is the truth. That is what the city calls you. That is what everyone calls. Slaughtering thousands with a battered group while protecting the weak. Your legend is compared to Lord Bevan Wysteria. Most even openly proclaim that it is a feat far greater than what Lord Bevan Wysteria performed. “

“You are probably aware, I did not slaughter thousands. Most deserted.” I countered.

“Lady Rylonvirah, I was not there but with every retelling, the numbers increase and so does your fame,” she replied with a knowing smirk.

“Is it so? what epic tales are they singing about me? Call me glory seeking whore.” I leaned towards Razzia and rested my chin on my right hand.

“In brevity, you saw the plight of those poor people and sworn an oath to protect them, to slaughter the evil-doers. Your oath was too strong that, a great woodland spirit heard your plea and came to your aid. You made the werewolves yield to your power and force them to swear loyalty to you. A rode alone into the enemy camp and.....”

“Stop.....I get the full picture now.”

My initial suspicion of Vitalia being the source of the rumours are unsubstantiated. Even if the moon were to sink under the oceans, the fae would never paint herself as a great woodland spirit. Nemeash is too practical and single-minded. Arlene, given her proclivity, would have gone for a boisterous title like the dealer of thousand deaths or the slasher of singing blades. All factors considered, it is either Ellie or Theodore. If it were Ellie, then harmless but if it were Theodore, then I am a pawn in another unwilling game.

“Pray, tell me. Who are those who sing of my legend relentlessly? Perhaps I would choose to reward them with coins.” I raised my hand in an exaggerated gesture of regal bearing.

“Lady Rylonvirah, I am sure those who sing your praises have been amply rewarded, for there is no greater reward than life itself.”

So it is Ellie and the gypsies. I took a deep breath and relaxed just as the coach came to a halt.

“We have arrived.” declared Razzia.

---

The Mansion, like those owned by every noble, revelled in a certain measure of extravagance, despite the present financial situation of the House Wysteria. Razzia marched briskly into the mansion. She ignored the salute from the guards. The maids went out of their way when they saw her determined strides. Even the attendants, whose greetings she ignored, did not appear to be bothered with her indifference. She stormed unchallenged through the burgundy carpeted floor, past the embroidered tapestries adorning the main hall, till she came face to face with Theodore.

Theodore was not alone. The man who was with Theodore, was well built. A fact that the man was aware of, as evidenced by the particular choice of a sapphire blue doublet with silver buttons. His lips tightly shut while Theodore tried in vain to convince him of the importance of whatever mundane issue they were arguing about.

Theodore’s attitude changed as he laid eyes upon me.

“Greetings Lady Rylonvirah. Our Lady has been expecting you. If you would please kindly follow me. I will lead you to her study.”

“Lady Jessbeth should be properly educated on where she should receive mercenaries. Someone as illustrious as Lady Rylonvirah should be properly received with the station that is appropriate, like the audience hall.” cut in the other person.

“I do not dare to judge the decision of Lady Jessbeth, Lord T’Fyrestok. “ answered Theodore with a meek tone, “and Lady Rylonvirah, let me introduce you to Lord Lucille T’Fyrestok. The gracious Lord T’Fyrestok has taken the effort upon himself to guide Lady Jessbeth, naturally with the blessing of Duke Lothmar.”

“Good Tidings Lord T’Fyrestok. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I made my curtesy bow.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Rylonvirah,” responded Lucille with another well-practised bow.

“Razzia, you may leave. I will lead Lady Rylonvirah, personally, from here.” saying that Theodore dismissed Razzia.

Theodore walked briskly through another wing of the mansion while the dried mud from his riding boots still left a trail of dried debris along.

---

Lady Jessbeth was just as I expected her to be. Young, wide-eyed with an audacious grace reflected in her personality. Her hazel eyes held me for a moment before she rushed from her chair to receive me.

“Lady Rylonvirah, I am glad to make your acquaintance. I apologise beforehand if I forced you into this meeting. Under better conditions, I would have received you formally.” She clasped both my hands with her gloved hand much to the disapproval of Lucille.

“Such is the burden of responsibility, Lady Wysteria. No need to apologise.”

She pointed to the huge chair next to a large shelf filled with volumes of tomes and took a seat herself.

“Lord Lucille, if you would kindly, please provide us the privacy that we need.”

“Lady Wysteria, I am here to guide you on political matters. I assure you my presence would be beneficial, not to mention, the Duke himself entrusted me with such a responsibility. I have given my word, my Lady.” Lucille still wore his congenial smile and courtly manners.

“I suppose that your oath also allows you to intrude upon the private conversation of a Lady and her confidant. Do you still need to be privy to the parlour conversations between two women?” responded Jessbeth.

If I had any doubts regarding the ability of the young girl before me to lead a noble household, her present attitude alleviated any such misgivings.

“I apologise, My Lady, I was a bit overzealous with my task. A young lady such as yourself needs her privacy. I will now make myself scarce.” Lucille bowed while his arms were still crossed across his waist. He made another deep bow before leaving the two of us to our precious privacy.

As the door closed, Jessbeth leaned back on her upholstered chair.

“Lady Wysteria, whatever you have to say, you should hurry. Shortly, a maid would come knocking on the door with the pretext of providing us with refreshments. A maid who Lord T’Fyrestok trusts.”

“And Razzia has been instructed to intercept any such attempts.” Jessbeth, no. Lady Wysteria grimaced. She has earned my respect.

“You have proven yourself.”

“And I should if I were to lead this house. Stay a step ahead and predict. You think I would just let some high elves use my family fortune to dig up old graves and I would choose to remain oblivious in the dark?” The heels of her shoes tapped twice loudly against the marble floor setting a strong reverberation in the study.

“So you sent Razzia after Nemeash? If you were so curious about the contents of your ancestor’s puzzle box, you could have made peace with Leyandur and cooperated. A lot of lives would have been saved.” I scoffed at her.

“A correction. What makes you presume that I could be ignorant about the contents?” Her Hazel eyes almost seemed amber as she regarded me with those eyes for a while.

“I erred. Clearly, there is more to it than what I am aware of. I profess my ignorance. Care to enlighten what sort of contents would urge a well-funded army on the hunt?” I tapped my finger on the knuckles of my other hand, not bothering to conceal my displeasure.

“You are clearly unimpressed with the way I handled the whole affair. Would you mind sharing how you would have handled the issue in my position? Just remember, even I am being watched. A momentary lapse in judgement is all that would take for Duke Lothmar to seize the opportunity, declare me as incompetent and marry me to any of his hundred underlings.” Anger seared in her eyes and her nostrils flared.

“I would have sought out stronger allies.”

“Yes and here we are. In my private study.” She huffed as she finished her sentence.

“If we are to work together, then I need to know what I am protecting.”

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly above her knees. She licked her dry lips before she continued.

“It is probably a dark secret from our family’s past. Lord Bevan Wysteria, my great-great-grandfather, is usually remembered as the war hero who put an end to the Verdant Hegemony, slayer of demon colluders and a multitude of other titles. He spent his last days suffering, from all the things that he did during the purge of the Verdant Hegemony. I am certain that it is his confession that is hidden inside the puzzle box.”

“Occupy the land, displace the natives, vilify them to justify your own actions. Just average politics. But a written confession is a nifty affair. I can understand now why someone would go through the extra efforts to prevent the contents from being made public.”

“And if the contents were published, I would be the first collateral in the resulting conflict.” Genuine sadness poured out from her words.

“There is more at stake for you, indeed. In fact, you would benefit more if the puzzle were never to be opened.”

“I understand, how it would seem from your point. My only interest in the whole affair is to avoid unexpected problems. The sins of my ancestor would come to the light one day. I am fully aware of it. I just wanted to be fully prepared when the day comes.” Her bright lively eyes were downcast and a dark shadow fell over her face.

A heavy silence hung in the room further accentuating Lady Jessbeth’s trepidation. After what seemed like an eternity, she wiped her brow with the back of her hand and continued.

“That is why I have instructed Sir Theodore to provide Nemeash with the last key. It originally belonged to Sir Theodore’s family. I hoped to delay the inevitable, gain a bit more time. But the recent events taught me how foolish my ways of thinking were. Those who seek to stop..... they care nothing for lives. I will not sit by...... call it a sort of atonement for the past.”

At that moment, I wanted to give a big hug to the poor girl in front of me. She was no longer the Lady Wysteria, she was just an orphaned child, all alone, daunted by the wide politics and tossed around by forces far beyond her comprehension. I wanted to stroke her head and comfort her in a soothing voice as I would have done for my own daughter and I would have done the same, had it not been for the interruption in the form of heavy knocking.

“Lady Jessbeth, Justiciar Celerim Stormaire is here, demanding to see you.” came the voice of Theodore from the other side, “and he is adamant in his request.”

---

Lady Jessbeth rushed through the marbled wing, towards the audience hall. The look of annoyance clearly visible on her face, which she did not bother concealing. The attendants and maids moved further, giving wide pace to their Lady. She did not bother to pause and adjust her falling locks of hair but rather pushed them aside casually as she strode. I briefly exchanged a nod with Theodore before trailing behind her.

The audience hall was just a huge circular room, where chandeliers and tapestries were embellished and several portraits of various key members of the Wysteria family looked down upon the gathered. But, at the moment, the two figures arguing in the centre captivated the attention of all.

Lucille, was arguing with a tall high elf. Even by high-elven standard, the elf was young, in appearance. His coral coloured elegant doublet along with the radiant yellow brooch and signet clearly marked his office, the field uniform of a high-elven Justiciar. While disapproval was clear on Lucille’s face, the Justiciar’s face betray a trace of belligerence. As the Justiciar explained, even his arms stretched outward with palms facing upwards, a gesture that no high-elf would willingly display, even not to another high-elf.

“Justiciar Stormaire, you have no authority here to come and demand,” proclaimed Lucille loudly.

“And yet the fact that I am here should impart the urgency of my mission. Contrary to my countenance, I have lived for centuries. I know a bid when I see one. We Justiciars do not meddle in the affairs of men, Lord T’Fyrestok.”

“Justiciar Stormaire, these lands are not governed by elven law and as much as I respect a Justiciar of law, I request that you abide by rules of men while you are in our lands. That goes for your demands. Lady Jessbeth is preoccupied with...... Lady Rylonvirah.”

“That would be all Lord Lucille T’Fyrestok,” Lady Jessbeth broke their conversation, “I thank you for your effort in organising the schedules.”

The Justiciar glanced in the direction of Lady Jessbeth. His eyes fixated on her for a moment and then wandered in my direction. The gazing eyes of the Justiciar widened as he saw me and then his expression changed. His face brightened slightly and he had a warm smile.

“Lady Wysteria, Allow me to humbly introduce myself. Justiciar Celerim Stormaire, at your service.”

He took a step forward in her direction and as demanded by custom, knelt on a single foot and raised his hand and waited. After a brief moment of hesitancy, Lady Jessbeth extended her gloved hand. He took the offer, but instead of placing a kiss on the back of the hand, a knowing glance passed between the two of them. He held the gloved hand gingerly and leaned himself forward, his forehead making slight contact with the back of the hand and then he let her hand go.

“Lord Justiciar Celerim, dismissing all pleasantries, may I enquire what brings an illustrious Justiciar to our humble abode?”

Lady Jessbeth held herself by her waist, her arms crossed in a sign of open defiance. If her crossed arms were meant to convey hostility and contempt, her curled fingers and the way they fidgeted betrayed her true motive. Her cheeks morphed to a reddish colour as she blushed.

Theodore, who stood beside me, looked downwards towards the ground. Evident fact, that he purposefully avoided looking at his sworn liege and her adorable turmoil. If I were to make a guess, her current mushy inner pandemonium has less to do with his physical forbearance or his high-elven grace. It might have more to do with the fact that he did not actively grab and kiss her hand, as most would have done in his place. That is what tradition and formality dictated. Instead, he waited for her to consent. Or it might be that he learned in a single glance that she hated being kissed by strangers on the first meeting, even if it were on the back of a gloved hand and obliged to her wishes, both, the visible and the invisible.

Lucille glared daggers at the oblivious two in front but there was enough wisdom in him to hold his tongue.

“Lady Rylonvirah,” he struggled with uttering my name, “I am glad I got to meet you here. Saved me the trouble of seeking you out.”

“Lord Justiciar, does it have anything to do with what happened outside the walls of Sarenthill? I have already passed my knowledge on the affair to the regional Justiciar at Sarenthill.”

“Actually, this is a grave matter,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Silvaniel is missing. We have reasons to believe that he may have been forcefully taken against his will.”