Tymeria was a beautiful country, but Eriken Jaeger knew a map could only tell so much and never truly show the landscape’s grandeur. As he rode alongside Dyna, the wild tracks and dense forests revealed the limitations of parchment and ink.
To the northwest, a wall of mountains loomed, gradually lowering into grey and rugged flint hills as they traveled further north. Watchtowers occasionally dotted the highest stony summits. To the east, rolling grassy plains stretched as far as the eye could see. As they rode north, forest tree lines appeared, dense woods spanning many miles, providing no alternative route but to move straight through them.
Eriken had ridden alongside Dyna for hours to regroup at the town holding the prisoner, joining the escort forces. After two days of riding, their party had traveled into dense wood, and the road grew into an uncomfortable silence. There were twenty-five Paladins in the escort force, an absurdly high number in Eriken’s opinion. Not all Paladins rode horses. Only eight were mounted: three Paladins, himself, and four pulling a large wagon that held the prisoner, along with the two dead bodies of the victims, each wrapped entirely in white bloodstained gauze. The rattle and creaking of the wagon were the only sounds Eriken could hear as they marched, his gaze reluctantly drawn to the grim cargo it carried.
The massive cart carried a large steel cage built to hold a wild bear. Instead of a powerful animal, it enclosed a young woman close to Eriken’s own age. She was curled up within the cage, her face buried in her knees, her dark bodice slightly torn from her past struggles. What intrigued Eriken were her extra restraints. A metal collar clamped her neck. Sharp steel spikes jutted from the collar’s inner lining. Each spike, the length of a human thumb, almost pricked her skin with its tip. Her hands were bound by iron shackles. The prisoner did not look dangerous. Fair white skin, dark hair, small nose, and jade-green eyes. She had not spoken a word since their march began.
As the second day wore on and darkness enveloped the trees, they deemed it too perilous to continue. Within a quarter hour, camp was established, and Eriken sat among the Paladins by the flickering campfire. Dyna and Knight-Captain Bandon had cut down several small trees and used the logs as makeshift seating. Eriken had tended to the horses and built the fire. Even as the march came to a halt, the prisoner remained silent from her cage, and Eriken found it impossible to look away from her. She met his gaze only once, fear, pain, and defiance mingling in her expression.
“Fancying the prisoner, Eriken?” Dyna said with a playful, suspicious tone.
Eriken turned away from the wagon and faced Dyna’s teasing look. Even after seven years, she hadn’t changed. “Twenty-five men, cage for a wild beast, and spiked collars? How dangerous is this woman? What did she do to those men?”
“I didn’t read Sir Bandon’s message,” Dyna said. “Ask him.”
Seated across from them, Knight-Captain Bandon Flay remained silent. In his early forties, Sir Bandon had aged well. His hair was gone, but he maintained a solidly built form. His dark eyes remained focused on the flames dancing in the center of their camp.
“She killed two Paladins,” Eriken began, “Of that I’m aware of. But this seems much for a murderess.”
“We have our orders,” Bandon stated emphatically.
“How did she kill them?” Eriken pressed. “One woman against two armed Paladins? Do we have a murder weapon?”
“Not all women are weak as infants,” Dyna interjected.
Samwell snickered. “And you’re proof of this claim? Last I heard, you see yourself as a man born without a manhood.” Samwell was Eriken’s own age, a handsome pale, brown-haired youth with grey eyes.
Laughter rippled through the other Paladins, while Dyna hung her head in an annoyance. Eriken had no love of mockery, especially among comrades. Dyna was aware of her flaw, for it was the reason she was sent to the Paladins. Dyna was no great beauty, but a woman nonetheless.
“She’s with the Paladins,” Eriken asserted. “Our connection with the Light shall free her.”
“Free me?” Dyna retorted without gratitude. “You speak like I’m cursed.”
Her gaze was unfriendly and accusatory, but Eriken maintained his composure. “You’re a woman, Dyna. You may believe yourself to be a man, but that mindset is a product of cruelty. Men only see a woman’s exterior and assume it reflects the soul. Serving the Light will open your eyes to who you truly are. You’ll return to a woman’s life soon, once Litiah has heard your prayers.”
Dyna showed no sign of understanding, only simmering disgust. “None of you will ever understand.”
“Good,” Samwell chimed in. “When one cannot understand madness, it means they’re sane.”
“Enough,” Bandon ordered. “There may be elves lurking in the darkness. Do you wish for it to rain arrows?”
All fell silent, only the sounds of belches and chewing as men ate their fill before the long ride ahead. One Paladin slid a bowl of soup into the prisoner’s cage. She remained motionless until he turned away, at which point she dug her spoon into it, scraping the bowl clean with frantic, mechanical movements. In minutes, she devoured it and resumed her curled up position. Eriken wished to question her, but Sir Bandon had already instructed all to avoid any communication.
“Careful,” Bandon warned. “That sympathy may place your head on a spike. It’s what ended the Valsvik Dynasty.”
“I’m curious, not sympathetic,” Eriken assured. “And she’s clearly not a nonhuman.”
“Perhaps…” Bandon averted his eyes for a moment, then silently strode away.
Eriken had not forgotten what happened to the former rulers of Tymeria. The story served as a reminder and a warning to all who would sympathize with nonhumans. House Valsvik, with their sigil of a black panther, once ruled all Tymeria. But it was when Emperor Robben attempted to bring change that their once great name fell.
“Ah, Emperor Robben Valsvik,” Samwell chuckled. “Stupid shit thought he knew more than the Magisterium.”
“He only disagreed with their teachings,” Eriken pointed out. “Nothing wrong with asking a simple question.”
“Asking why nonhumans should be beneath humans is a simple question?” Samwell countered with a laugh. “The idiot allowed them to convert to our faith and fuck any human they wanted. He was alright with having filthy hybrids walking among us.”
Emperor Robben had believed the Light loved all races equally. He emphasized that Litiah never said anything about nonhumans being lesser, and even liberated elven slaves.
Eriken knew the history too well. The Magisterium responded with outrage. As the anger spread across the empire, so did the desire to crown a new emperor.
“Allowing them to convert meant they could save themselves from their false beliefs,” Eriken said. “The Light made them as He made us all.”
“Then the Light made Galen Lowe to shut Robben up,” Samwell said. “And he did. I prefer the crowned griffin ruling this empire. You sound as if you sympathize with the Valsviks.”
“My family sided with House Lowe,” Eriken reminded with a growl.
It was Galen Lowe who declared war against the crown, starting what the chroniclers called the Lowe Uprising. The empire was divided, but more favored the side of Lowe. Galen crushed Valsvik’s forces. Emperor Robben’s head acquired a pike, while his wife and children were slaughtered in their bedchamber.
“Why are you here, Eriken?” Samwell asked. “What was your father’s reason for packing you off to the Paladins? Hoping to kill Zela’ken?”
“He didn’t force me here,” Eriken asserted. “I came by choice. The Paladins are an honorable organization. I intend for House Jaeger to be remembered for supporting it.”
“Ah, yes, our noble intent,” Dyna said sarcastically. “But the Paladins have a history of murder. The number of nonhumans slaughtered by us is significant.”
“And this is a problem?” Samwell asked. “I hear no complaints from the people we protect.”
“Not from humans,” Dyna replied. “But plenty from nonhumans. Eriken, you can’t tell me you haven’t acknowledged this.”
Eriken remembered Sir Lambert’s command, the order to destroy the local elves. “If they prove a danger to our people, we have no choice.”
Dyna exhaled her disgust. “Eriken, if you were ordered to kill an infant elf, would you do it without question?”
Eriken stared grimly into the campfire, the weight of her question heavy on his conscience. He thought hard, its complexity surprising him. But as the vows he’d made echoed in his mind, he answered, “If the Light wills it.”
Within the back of his mind, a voice whispered, Liar.