Quest In The Absence of Light

[Fèlen]

It was once again time for her hands to become bloodied for a cause. Not her cause, or one she even cared about. The Templars didn't matter to her. They had used her as a pawn, seeking out healers to garner them benevolence when truly it was they who had wounded and killed. She seethed at the sight of Braden's entrails on the dusty ground. At Saia's face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she wept.

She felt a sturdy hand upon her shoulder, but it did nothing to comfort her or break the steady gaze she had on the gruesome display.
"Let them come." She sneered, her gaze now trained on the tall tower beyond the courtyard. She yearned to bombard them, to tear the foundations with vines and suffocate them with gases. She wanted them to suffer as they had made this town suffer. Yet the strong hand on her shoulder brought her back from her rage once more.

"I have everything I need."

 

[Aldren Cordale]

The walk to Guarin's encampment was long and tiring. The skies saw fit to be filled with clouds, dropping down the torrents of rain as if the chill air of the late night wasn't enough. Aldren felt quite uncomfortable trekking through the mud with his worn out boots, looking from time to time to the quiet nymph that walked beside him. He was worried with her, that strange look on her eyes that didn't fit with her gracious and light air, her sweet essence that more welcomed than shunned. But Aldren understood Fèlen's thoughts, the anger at everything that's been happening.

She had been there, with the Templars, to heal and nurture the wounded folk in the region, only to discover they were much worse villains than the men that had been attacking those people. Aldren himself felt betrayed after discovering it amid a few talks with Guarin along the way, to pass the time.

Eventually, with the moon still shining brightly, hovering in the distant sky above them, the trio reached an ancient, ruined watchtower, taller even than the walls and towers of the Templar Temple, its gaze reaching to the horizons far away. Aldren looked on in awe, amazed as to how that building stood the vigors of time for so long.

"We called it The Eye. A monument from days past, built by the First Templars, in a time where the Order stood for something. Now... it's just a ruin."

Guarin spoke, breaking the silence. His voice carried sorrow and angst, clearly displeased with everything that afflicted the Templar Order.

Waving with his hand, the sergeant prompted the group to walk on and reach for the safe walls of their camp, being greeted by roughly 15 men, brave and noble Templars, still noble to the Order. They were scattered throughout the camp, some tending to their weapons and armor, others fast asleep, and some planning for the battles that would soon come in a improvised table made of a giant fallen rock near the tower's entrance. The structure itself made for a huge courtyard, surrounded by walls, although most of them were torn down by wars and time itself. The rain had stopped too, opening the skies to the great expanse of stars that filled them.

"I'm afraid we're out of tents, but there's an empty room in the last floor of the tower, if you don't mind the huge gap on the wall. At least you'll have quite the view!", Guarin joked, his serious visage before turned so quickly to a more fair demeanor. "Grab some rest, brother. Come morning we'll have much to do. Miss Fèlen", Guarin tapped Aldren's shoulder and made a short and respectful reverence to the woman before departing to his own barrack.

Aldren looked to Fèlen and motioned with his head so they could go towards the tower, almost being ignored by the many warriors there, heavily taken by their own duties.

They climbed the sets of stairs, taking in the rudimentary feel of those old and worn walls around them. Aldren was suprised to see that a few objects were still left in a good state, all things considered. They arrived at the room Guarin talked about, glancing at the huge hole that left the wall wide open to the view of the hillside and the forest below them. Even the moon felt in arm's reach as Aldren stood close to the edge, taking in the now calm and comforting winds that flew freely inside the room.

Luckily, the bed was in a good shape as well, even for all the time passed. There was also a small cabinet with a few burning candles and a big portrait on the wall above. He recognized the man painted on it by some of the books Riss carried with him in the past.

The first Grandmaster of the Templar Order. In front of him laid the ancient story of the old Order, and the very building that Aldren was in attested to that.

Returning from his wayward thoughts, Aldren looked over to Fèlen, hoping that she was in a better mood by now.

"You need to rest, Fè. Tomorrow will be a long day", Aldren flashed her a comforting but short smile. He started searching for a good spot to lay and rest, leaving the bed for the nymph.

 

[Fèlen]

The halfling followed in silence, stewing silently in her anger. No matter how far she traveled, how many good times she had, it did not offset the devastation of cruel men. She was used to long travel, steps fluid and without hesitation, as she followed Guarin until they came upon a taller, more impressive though dilapidated tower.

She gave pause only because Guarin did. Entering only because he and Aldren did. She was merely waiting until the moment to strike. Ready and willing to cause those who had betrayed the trust of others more harm than they had caused. Wanting only to vanquish the traitors.

It seemed as if they had saved the last room only for those in the most need, with only a singular bed. It was not entirely wrong for Guarin to perceive the duo as a couple, their relationship intricate due to the battles they had fought together. The halfing ignored the looks of the other men there, she did not care for strategy or armory. At that moment all she cared for was vengeance.

"I've gotten more rest than you. Take the bed." She left no room for argument as she sat at the mouth of the opening in the wall of the room they had been instructed to habitat. Legs dangled outside as she sat at the birth of the opening, arms bracing her form as she viewed the vulnerable cosmos above.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren barely had any time to search for his quiet little spot before Fèlen came on adamant with her decision to brush him aside and leave the bed to his own, forced rest. Aldren smiled, her recent stubbornness adding to the tender grace of the nymph. As he put down some of the sheets he found to keep them warm in the night, Aldren caught a glimpse of her sitting on the edge of the hole, contemplating the moon high at its peak, the light reaching forth the horizon and gleaming at her exquisitely fair hair. Aldren stopped for a moment, looking on as if he was witnessing a goddess of the night from the old fantasy books he used to read as a child.

She was absolutely gorgeous in that moment, features shining brightly to shun away the darkness permeating the room, radiating. Even the candlelight couldn't hold to her. Awkwardly, the man took a few steps and closed their distance, sitting by her side and taking a few seconds to breath deeply and amaze himself with the view. He understood now why the First Templars called that place 'The Eye'. He watched the entire region from there, stretching even to the high walls of the Temple, the epicenter of their suffering.

"Beautiful, isn't it?", he broke the silence, still feeling a bit nervous. He wanted to give her the space to think, to properly treat the angry feelings that held her after all that's happened. And given all of it, Aldren felt a bit at fault for getting her like that.

"I'm sorry. We haven't seen each other since that mess in Vel Anir and then... I dragged you into another mess", Aldren spoke in a low tone, the sadness evident in his words. His eyes fell down, watching the abyss below.

He spent a few seconds like that before turning his head aside to face her, instantly regretting that he did. Like in a endless maze, Aldren got lost in his perilous thoughts as he looked at Fèlen, her lips and eyes. Both looked like carved from the moon itself, her beautiful mystique now bare plainly in front of him, just a few inches away.

He felt something for her, something he couldn't even understand. Ever since they met in Vel Anir all those months past, and then they both went on their separate ways.

Aldren missed her. But now he found her again, there, of all places. He couldn't ignore the way his heart burned at that moment, sharing that calm and sweet moment with her, the star filled skies bearing witness.

The winds played a hauntingly beautiful tune as they touched the worn bricks of the tower, and even the day after, certain to be filled with more death and hardship, mattered little to him.

 

[Fèlen]

She could feel his eyes on her, awestruck by the luminescence the moonlight struck on her features and the purity of her form. She was still fuming, blood running hot in her veins, calling for action. Calling for vengeance. A hard sigh passed her lips, strained shoulders lowering as she forced herself to ease, though her jaw remained tight. It was hard to shake the temper, to simply sit whilst she knew others were suffering and knew who was causing that harm. She did not think she would be able to sleep even if she tried.

The image of Braden hanging from the tree had not left her mind, engraved with disgusting detail and mingling with all of the other gruesome sights she had seen since answering the 'Templars' call. It wasn't until she felt the warmth from his close proximity that her hazed eyes came into focus and looked towards him. Clouds of resentment cleared her mind just as the storm had cleared outside, this moment of peace calming her need for action and allowing clarity, the previously ignored weariness weighing her body.

She wasn't sure if his question was rhetorical, following his example to peer over the expanse of land that spread out before them, unobstructed under the midnight skies.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be." She affirmed, a hand squeezing at his own briefly, reassuring. As she looked back towards him she recognized the look in his eyes and she felt the pace of her heart quicken once more, though it was no longer with anger. Her lips parted to impart words, though a moment of fluster brought her pause, clearing her throat lightly to recompose herself, her gaze unable to hold his own as it lowered.

He had shown her care, without truly knowing her, risking his own well being to keep her from harm. It was not an act she took lightly, even if she had been able to protect herself. He was honorable with strict morals, harsh on himself should he not live up to his own standard. A good man. She cared for him and intended to show him the same loyalty.

"I really think that you should get some rest." It was only them, alone in a shambled room. A tension hung around them, her soft tenor honoring it as her words barely reached above a whisper, fearful of breaking the tender ambiance. The soft winds grasped lightly at her loose attire and the stray pieces of moonlit hair, whispering against the pair.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren laughed, brushing aside her comments about him needing a rest. His body was still a shambles, bruises all over it and whenever he moved he felt like a old man, pain all over his joints. But in that moment, his heart had control of everything. He was of no mind to think about anything else, let alone of resting away in a dusty bed while the beautiful woman at his side looked on, glimmering like the moonlit horizon.

If he was lost for words, Aldren's eyes carried forth the passion that burned intensely in his heart, and he was sure that Fèlen picked up on it, feeling the tension taking hold of the air while Aldren looked deeply into her bright eyes. Slowly, his hand made its way to her cheeks, stroking her gently like she did him before, in Vel Anir and when she found him lying half-dead in the woods.

He let the silence be the sole instrument of that tension filled ambience while he slowly inched closer and closer, his hand now cupping her face softly as the man closed his eyes and let his heart guide him once more, lips opening slightly as he got near her face, yearning for the touch of her own sweet lips.

 

[Fèlen]

He did not heed her advice, instead dismissing it with only a chuckle. She had known what was coming, known how he wanted her. She could feel the warmth of his calloused hand on her cheek, her eyelids pressing together tightly as he drew nearer. Confliction constrained her heart, sorrowful and longing.

"I'm sorry, Aldren." He would not feel her silken lips, her head turning away from his just a breath away, meeting with her cheek instead. Her heart could not be given, its shambles belonging to another who didn't want it. She pained at the thought of possibly putting him in a similar predicament, though she comforted herself with the idea that he was swayed only by her beauty, his needs merely physical and without love. She no longer would offer her body just for the pleasure of others, her arms wrapping faintly around herself in self-comfort.

She rose quietly, slate orbs dulled with affliction as she still avoided his gaze.
"I fear you will perish if you don't get any rest. I am going to speak with Guarin to better understand how he plans to proceed." She turned from him, her steps somewhat hasty as she made her exit, hiding her waterlogged eyes.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

When Fèlen turned her head, Aldren knew exactly what that meant. His heart denied it at first, hoping it was some kind of illusion as he lost himself in the pits of passion, but that wasn't the case. As he opened his eyes, he saw the look she gave to him, heavy with sadness, as she sought to hide from his gaze. Aldren felt like a fool for forcing her hand like that, when she was clearly at a low moment, lost in mourning and frustration.

He was at another loss for words, confusion and denial wrapping around his head as Fèlen got up abruptly, as if trying her hardest to get away from him. A lovestricken and now broken hearted fool, that's what he was. In the most tender of moments, as he sought to comfort her, Aldren ended up hurting Fèlen even more. He got up, trying to reach out to her, but ended up seeing the error of his ways, his hand falling back.

And so he let her go. She was never his to begin, he realized that as much. He saw the teary eyes and her distressed and low voice as she left the room, leaving him behind. He felt her heart as broken as his, especially with the way she apologized, filled with as much regret as he now felt. Aldren realized that, even being friends, he knew next to nothing about her to begin with. He never inquired about her past, as painful as it was to her, and he had felt that already. Ever since their eyes first met in Vel Anir. They carried the same angst that he used to carry.

He paid no mind that his own heart was broken, for his thoughts were of Fèlen and her heart now. The heart he had hoped to reach. To go even further than that, had she allowed it. He knew that, with their complicated lives, it would be like going through a odyssey, but deep down... He hoped.

Hope is the warm sheeth in a freezing day, as well as the sharp blade that cuts deeper than everything else.

Without strength to fight back, Aldren let the tears run effortless through his face, wetting his beard. In a moment of rage against himself, he flew against the nearby cabinet, throwing it away in a blind fit.

The candles got mixed with the old, broken wood and stone, slowly going out as Aldren himself fell to the bed, drained. The long coming weariness took over his body as the final straw to that long day and he was met with cold darkness, going to his sleep.

He had hoped to face it with a warm light. Her light.

 

[Fèlen]

She left him behind. She had saved him and healed him only to hurt him more. Her steps were rushed, not chancing a glance back towards him. Not wanting to see that familiar pain in his eyes. She could feel the hot sting at her tear ducts, straining to prevent it from spilling over as she lowered down the stairs only to stop short and lean against the cold stone wall.

A stifled sob finally escaped her lips as she slid to the ground and buried her face into her knees. Her heart betrayed her. It had been so long since she had seen the fiery man who held her affection, yet time was not allowing her to heal. To forget him.

It was not the first time she had cried over him, nor did she think it would be the last, though the horrors of the day had worn her raw, the pain more intense than the shrouded ache it usually was. It was several moments before she could calm her breath, sniffling alone before wiping her tears. She looked upwards, to where she could hear Aldren throw himself against some unsuspecting furniture before it grew quiet. A solemn sigh escaped as she shook her head. He was resilient but did not show his body enough care.

Even she had only had mere hours of rest after forced unconsciousness had grasped her, and she could feel her body's retort, begging for relief. She lifted from sitting, silent steps carrying her back towards the room she had fled from. She did not enter, figuring that if Aldren had not chased after her before, he would not now. She found a comfortable-enough position just beyond the doorway, allowing the frame to separate the duo as her head leaned against the wall. Despite this awkward position, sleep found her easily, allowing her to finally rest before they were once more in the thralls of battle.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Morning came soon enough, sunlight hovering over Aldren's face while the early breeze made him shiver as he woke up, opening his eyes to realize his predicament. The room was empty, exactly the way it was when he went to sleep. Only it reeked of angst and loneliness. The sound of clashing steel coming from below broke him away of his depressing thoughts, getting him up from the bed to walk over to the edge of the broken wall, looking down to see some Templar soldiers already at training.

Shades of the night were still seen in glimpses over the sky, making Aldren realize that he hadn't slept at all. His head still hurt as bad as his chest after last night. His first thought in waking was about her again, worried if Fèlen had found a good place to rest, since he was all alone in that room. He knew she never went to see Guarin, the tears in her eyes as she dashed away from him told all about that evasive lie, a way to preserve both of their hearts, as broken as they were.

He had given no thought as to what he would once he saw her. Probably apologize for being so stupid? He wouldn't act as a spoiled brat and ignore her existence just because he had his love unrequited.

Aldren let the fresh breeze clear his mind and set it to the new purpose at hand. Where they were going there was no room for anything else but focus, or they'd get killed. This conspiracy was a greater threat than a broken heart.

In a effort to occupy his mind with something else, Aldren decided to go out looking for Guarin and learn about the battle plans, but as he opened the door to escape his torture, he caught a glimpse of Fèlen, still asleep against the cold stone walls. Taken with worry, he rushed close to her, slowly picking the woman in his arms, his heart pounding hard against his chest for being this close to her.

He tried his best not to look to her as he thought his feelings would betray him once again, rendering him unable to focus on anything else for the rest of that journey. And he needed to focus on the reason he was there in the first place.

Like in the inn, Aldren carefully put her in the bed and covered her with warm sheets. She was clearly drained after all that's happened in the previous day, in dire need of a long rest. He slowly caressed her cheeks, smiling at how peaceful she looked in her sleep, even though she looked like a wreck a few hours ago, when her eyes were filled with a stifling sadness that Aldren failed to grasp.

Aldren's face approached her once again, this time with a different motive, to have him heal her wounds this time around, as he gently left a short kiss on her pale forehead.

'I'm sorry...', Aldren whispered after it, slowly withdrawing from her presence as he left the room, leaving the nymph to her rest as he went on to search for Guarin, a single tear falling from his eyes as he descended the tower.

 

[Fèlen]

Wanderers had to be used to sleepless nights, and with the constant need for healing, Fèlen was several days in with little rest. Her perch was satisfactory enough to give her body the much-needed relief it sought, her mind kind and clear without the shadow of nightmares. Her reality had been horrifying enough.

She did not stir as his arms enveloped her seemingly-fragile form. She was slim all over, her limbs long and lithe. But she did not feel as if she were easily broken, her slender muscle strong beneath her velvety flesh. She shifted ever-so-faintly as he walked, her crest resting against his barreling chest as a soft sigh passed her lips, though she did not rouse. Even as the bed sunk faintly beneath her weight, pale brows furrowing in unconscious protest, she merely turned and placed an arm beneath her head.

If his apology touched her ears, there was no signal, allowing her the recovery she needed unlike the stubborn man who allowed his touch to linger just a moment before departing.

It was several hours before she finally caught the first rays of sun in her eyes, encouraging her to rise with some confusion. She lifted, glancing around at the bed she found herself in with no knowledge of how she had gotten there, though she blamed Aldren. Her hands rubbed harshly at her face, groaning faintly at the awkward predicament she found herself in.

It wasn't the first time a man had tried to woo her, though previous advances had been much easier to reject. Aldren was not just some fool struck dumb by her appearance. He was a friend. She groaned again, looking around with disappointment. She wanted to bathe, to wash away the stresses of the previous night and start anew. Her steps carried her towards the opening in the wall, one hand gripping at it as she looked over the area.

There was a small spring close by, not visible to her eyes from that perch, but she could feel its stir within the trees. She crept down the stairs, doing just the opposite as her companion as her eyes watched for him carefully, trying to avoid him until she had fully cleared her mind. She gave a few passing soldiers a light smile and wave as she swiftly passed, eagerly allowing the surrounding growths to mask her form as she delved into the timbers. It was only several minute's walk, a light path already stamped into the soil from the men who used the spring to ferry water and the wildlife that used it as a watering hole.

She glanced around for a moment, assuring she was alone. The folds of her dress loosened to slip easily from her shoulders, revealing that her pristine complexion was not merely restricted to her face. She hastily stepped into the cool water, breath hiking from the shock of the temperature for a moment before sinking in fully as vines and branches seemed to close off the area.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart throbbing as he remembered the way Fèlen snuggled on his arms, as if she was in the most comfortables of beds. She must've been so tired, not waking up even as Aldren carried her all the way to his room. She'd been through enough already. Out of the feelings he nurtured for her, Aldren made a silent promise to himself to never hurt her like that again.

He got out of the tower, stretching his legs on the courtyards as the soldiers were put to training drills by the most veterans amongst them. Next to the tower was Guarin's encampment, a impromptu war table made in front of it. The man was already up and fully equipped, going over the plans for possible assaults against the Temple, though Aldren was of a mind to go against it. With their small numbers, the skirmish would be a massacre, unworthy even to be considered a battle. He trusted that Guarin was of a similar mind, not wanting to risk lives in a foolish whim like that.

Aldren approached the table, Guaren lifting his head to face the approaching man. He waved his head for the officers that accompanied him at the table, dismissing their presence with a short 'thank you'. With a small smile, he posed with his hands resting upon the top of his sword's handle, a circular pommel with a Templar cross inscripted upon it.

"Up this early? How was the night with the lady?", he asked with a cheeky tone, Aldren picking up on his intentions quickly.

"Aren't Templars supposed to take vows? Like the ones forbidding to cherish carnal desires?"

"Hah! Vows... Lies. All of them, i'm afraid. They're merely of a political purpose", his answer was a surprise to Aldren, who had never inquired about the Templar oaths to his master while he yet lived.

Guarin sensed Aldren's doubts about his words, letting out a small laugh. "The First Templars took no vows and were under no oaths than their own, Aldren. The vows were our idea of controlling our own power after the first war so that we wouldn't spiral out of control. It clearly served no purpose, since our Order is now divided into many Chapters, so many that even i don't know the exact numbers or where they're located."

Aldren crossed his arms, thoughtful. "Chapters? I thought all of this was the Templar Order."

"What you see now is the remains of the Order of Knights Vigilant, one of the oldest Chapters along with the Order of the Broken Sword, Templar traditionalists", he pointed to a few locations around the map at the table, several different images bearing symbols he had never seen before. With a few glances over to Guarin's armor, he noticed the same crest he wore was at the map.

Order of the Knights Vigilant...

The sergeant slowly made his way next to Aldren, gazing into his eyes as seriousness overtook him again, his tone becoming slightly rougher. "There's only one, true vow that you need to uphold as a Knight. The sacred duty of the Knights Templar. To guard and protect..."

"...the weak. To defend those who can't defend themselves", Aldren completed, having heard of the sacred oath of the Templars from Riss. Guarin smiled, nodding.

"A Templar has many vows, or none at all. But it is your duty to remember... You don't serve any king nor seek any gold for your actions. You don't even serve yourself. You serve the people, the very land in which you stand now. To protect the ones you love. That was our true purpose, when The Nine founded our Order."

Guarin's words rang true at his heart, his mind swaying to thoughts of Fèlen once again, as he spoke about loved ones. The veteran noticed Aldren's eyes falling down, the feelings for the woman ever more clearer, garnering a sympathetic smile from Guarin as he pat Aldren's shoulder.

"There's much to prepare for. But you really need a bath first, brother", he let out a small laugh as Aldren stood embarassed. He hadn't given any thought about his hygiene after everything that happened in the last day. "There's a spring nearby that we use to fetch water. You can have a wash there", Guarin said before departing to his tent, waving him goodbye.

Aldren smiled a bit, looking over at the maps again and reflecting upon his words until he too departed, asking a few soldiers for directions before setting out for the spring to have a proper bath. However, like a haunting spirit, he beheld a most amazing sight that never ceased to escape him. Aldren stood in paralyzed and in awe as he gazed upon the pale beauty stripped of all clothing, washing away on the crystal clear waters.

He swore he had never seen a more beautiful sight than that, of Fèlen taking a calm bath on the spring. His heart started pounding again, berating him for the foolish thoughts on his mind as his gaze lingered much longer than it should, before her magic encompassed the trees and branches into forming a protective barrier around the area, preventing any further look.

Cordale decided to stick around and wait for Fèlen to finish her own bath, or risk going back to the camp as a dirty fool.

 

[Fèlen]

Her usual flowing attire had left much to the imagination, though now Aldren did not have to imagine it. She was long and lean, her assets not as voluptuous as most women, though her curves and swells were inarguably female. The undone tresses of sterling that frothed from her crest tousled down to the small of her back, deepening into a charcoal as it became swollen with water.

It wasn't often that she thought back to her time with Madame Boumage and her traveling brothel, though she did miss some of the comforts she had been afforded there. Warm baths, perfumed and private, followed by lush beds and soft furs. A light sigh passed her lips as her hands ran over her head, doing her best to wipe away the grime that had collected over the last few days. She was free to do as she wished now, though the earnings she made as an adventurer were nothing in comparison to what she had earned before.

She had been the main attraction. Boumage's beautiful rose, the only girl with the gifts of a nymph and the knowledge of how to use it. She had been untouchable, the men who paid for a night with her leaving only with the memory of her soft caress before falling unconscious under her spells. She would easily coerce their darkest secrets whilst they were drunk off of her, then leave them wanting and confused the next morning. She had been given everything Boumage could offer, yet it failed to fill the void she felt within.

Pale digits reached for her clothes, pulling them into the water with a slight grimace at the state they were in. She swiftly scrubbed at them, cleaning them as best she could before she quickly left the brisk spring. The usual hydrophobic fabric was sopping as she pulled it over her, though it dried unusually quick, the foliage parting and returning to their original stations.

Hands wrung at her wet hair, the chilled water cleansing more than just her body as she made to return to the tower. Return to...

"Aldren?"

The Templar was not even trying to hide, despite the fact that the nymph had been nude only moments before. The realization caused her face to turn hot, scarlet painting her cheeks as her arms crossed harshly over her.
"D-Did you... Were you..?" She huffed faintly, words unable to reach fruition as she stomped back towards the camp.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren got up quickly when he saw the tree branches moving, clearing out the surrounding area to reveal the approaching nymph, skin shining like the prettiest gem after the clear waters washed away the dirt and wear from her. He would never grow tired of just standing there like a dummy, his attention deadlocked, mesmerized by her beauty.

However, he ended up looking like a teenage fool when she caught a glimpse of him and paused, cheeks going red at his sight and realizing that Aldren had been there all that time. Of course, he took a few quick glances when she was washing but ended up seeing only her bare back before her magic completely blocked his view. And with nowhere else to go to take his own bath before returning to the camp, his only option was to wait there.

Her reaction wasn't the best that Aldren had envisioned for the moment, but it fit the scenery nonetheless. In anyone's eyes, he would be looking like a pervert for hanging around and watching a woman's bath like that. But even so, he saw in that the perfect opportunity to reach out and talk to her.

Justly so, Fèlen walked past him in a fit of fury, but Aldren acted quickly and swiftly took her arm, taking care not to strain and hurt her. He stared deeply into her light eyes, words failing to form at first given the current situation. He thought about which apology would come first -- watching her bathe or the previous night? Maybe in the end, all that mattered were the honest words he needed to pour out, not only for her sake, but for his as well.

"I-I... I didn't see much, i swear! I just came to take a bath a-and... well, you know", he spoke like a right, young fool. Blabbering about and tripping on his own words, his cheeks a sharp tone of red as well, clearly nervous. In the end, he let Fèlen's lithe arm go and took a step back, eyes falling down to the ground in search of any confidence to speak up.

"I'm sorry. About last night...", his voice was clearer and a bit calmer this time around. His eyes met her gaze again, without diverting.

"I didn't mean to... It wasn't noble of me to do that. I can understand if you hate me now. But i will always protect you Fèlen, no matter the feelings harbored in my heart", Aldren spoke out of his heart the words he had been wanting to say ever since Fèlen rushed out of the room last night, eyes wet with pain and sorrow. It wasn't much to make amends to her already damaged heart, but it could be a start, he hoped it could be. And it helped heal his own heart as well.

Aldren was a bad romantic if he ever saw one, more taken with matters of steel and blood than those of the heart. But not next to her. His words to Fèlen were truer than any sharp blade, and he made it his own personal vow to always look out for her.

Guard and protect the ones you love. That's the true Templar duty.

 

[Fèlen]

It wasn't hard to believe that he came to the spring with the same reasons she had, however, he had already made his feelings well known the night before, her previous experiences with men tainting her perception of his true intentions. She felt his hand close almost entirely around her arm, the grip firm yet careful and succeeded in pausing her motion to flee. Her head jerked towards him with brows knit in embarrassed anger, her heart playing a tune of violation as he fumbled over his words.


His apology came with a bit of skepticism, the halfling sure that he had taken pleasure in what he had seen. Fèlen was not without reason, her immediate resentment beginning to fade as he explained himself, shame evident and genuine on his features.


It was the second apology that finally doused her, her remorse equal to his own as he looked away.

"I don't hate you, Aldren." Her voice was low and private, wanting to reach out and comfort him, but she remained in her own space. She did not want to ignore his feelings, believing she owed him an explanation.

"I.. I think you regard me more highly than I deserve." She admitted, omitting any discussion of the love she held for another at that moment. Aldren had only ever seen her at her best. Soothing and curing. Aiding others with no request needed. He did not know the things she had done before, where she had come from, what she was capable of.


"I deeply cherish you and believe you are of good heart, and I will always do my best to support you whenever you need it. I simply…" She cringed lightly at her own words, sighing at the situation. She owed him honesty.


"My heart belongs to another."

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Fèlen's words, as carefully put as they were, pierced right through Aldren's heart. It's not like he had any hopes before, but to hear her say that was harder than he had ever thought. He was never one for relationships in the past, so rejection was a fresh thing for him. Still, he understood her. He accepted that she already belonged to another, even if he was nowhere near to accept the warm love she offered.

He tried his best to hold back the tears, to not show such weakness in front of her, as hard as it was. Aldren nodded at the halfling, his face a figure of disappointed acceptance, rather than childish and brokenhearted denial. He had taken many painful blows in the past, so that one wasn't that deadly. It only hurt him in more ways than a physical one, but as all things, time would heal him.

"He's lucky to have your heart, Fèlen. You deserve to be happy, for all the good you do", he replied firmly, showing strength in the face of that wave of angst that took hold of him after her words.

"I shouldn't tarry. Guarin waits for us back at the camp", Aldren said before departing to the spring waters, in hopes of washing away of the pain that dwelled in his chest. He quickly took out his shirt and stripped of his trousers and boots before jumping to the water, embracing their cold touch.

As Aldren rose from his dip, he felt a calmer breeze take over him, even though he knew it would only last for a moment. Once he laid his eyes on her, it would all come back again. But in that moment, he relished in the clean sensation that the clear waters provided for both his body and soul. Not to mention that Guarin was right, he really needed that bath.

He took a few more dips, fooling around the clear waters as he felt his body relax and the previous physical pains that afflicted him slowly fade away, his muscles rejuvenating. He swun to the rocks where he left his clothes, searching through his trousers for the small blade that he kept with him at all times. He caressed the side of his head, feeling that he left his hair grow beyond care.

Using his own reflection in the water as a mirror, Aldren started to trim the side of his hair a bit, taking it down a couple notches to a agreeable size. He did the same for his beard, who had grown too long as well.

After what seemed to be an hour long bath, Aldren, now cleaned up and with trimmed hair and beard, made his way back to the encampment, and to the thoughts of a certain nymph that would forever linger in his mind.

 

[Fèlen]

She was breaking his heart, she could see it in his eyes, her own shoulders slumping as he took in her words. He had grown entirely infatuated with her, allowing his feelings to deeply root and bud, however, Fèlen would not provide them with the nourishment to flourish.

His words caused her gaze to lower, digits grasping at each other. Eclipsin had not thought himself lucky enough to have her, or that she was worthy of returned affections. She had done just as Aldren did, accepted the fact that her love was to remain unrequited and then left.

Aldren did not seem to care whether she saw him bathe or not, though she swiftly turned, allowing him privacy as she returned to camp. Her gaze filtered through the men, looking for Guarin when an officer took note of her and approached.

"Pretty lady like you shouldn't be with a crowd like this. You're bound to get hurt." His voice was almost condescending as his gaze wafted over her body, unashamed.

She did little to hide her sneer, though it didn't seem to bother him much as her hand twitched at her side, struggling to restrain herself. She took a calming breath before offering him a sweet smile.
"Pretty lady like me need not worry when there are such capable men around."

A smug smile touched his lips only briefly before his brows knit in puzzlement. A perfume wafted from the half-nymph that he had not noticed before, his lips parting to comment on it but his vision grew hazy as her magic worked at his mind, forcing him into slumber as he lost his balance. Her arms quickly latched onto him, ensuring he did not hurt himself as she lowered him to the ground, patting his shoulder lightly before she stood up.

"I guess not all of you are that capable."

 

[Aldren Cordale]

After a short and thoughtful walk, Aldren arrived back at the camp, noticing the ruckus at the courtyard as many soldiers geared up for battle. Some spent a few precious moments saying their prayers, others in cheerful talks with closest friends, and others sharpening the steel to be stained with blood later on. Aldren came to a halt as one of the most veteran Templars stopped him, a grinning look in his eyes as he carried two seemingly heavy bags, his grey beard going as far as reaching his chest.

"So you're the kid? Guarin was never one to gamble with our lives, but i don't trust you", he said with a frail yet deep voice, a testament to a rough life under the White Banner. "My name is Aldous. And here's whatever gear we have managed to scrap together for you. Don't kill yourself too soon, boy!", he joked before throwing the bags at Aldren and departed to join the rest of his brothers.

Guarin arrived to greet him just a few moments later. "Got your equipment? Don't mind Aldous, he's a former Broken Sword. Traditionalists, always too rough around the edges..."

The sergeant pat his shoulder and smiled before coming to his more natural serious state. "It's time to make a move, brother. Go get ready and grab a sword from the fences. Me and your girl will be waiting at the main tent to discuss the strategy."

"She's not my girl!", Aldren replied in a more furious tone, not even realizing his rather emotional spat at Guarin's remarks.

"Oh? Then you should've seen how she put one of the brothers to sleep after he fooled around. Lady Fèlen has a deadly sting, i'd be extra careful!", he departed with a short, spirited laugh, stepping hard towards the main tent of the encampment. Aldren looked around for a clear one where he could change, finding it just as two other Templars left to make their own preparations.

Aldren rushed inside the tent, opening the bags and letting the armor pieces fall to the ground. His heart almost jumped of happiness at the sight of the gold adorned steel, his own armor. For such a long time he had worn Riss's armor like a badge of honor he had never deserved, but now he finally had his chesired piece. The armor wasn't exactly new, but its design was modern and sturdy, with a few markings that indicated it belonged to the Knights Vigilant, just like Guarin's own armor.

A few moments later and all that lacked now was a proper helmet, to identify him as true holy knight, but such an item was in short supply given the hurry that everyone else was in. He stepped out of tent, fully geared and ready, walking over to one of the nearby weapon fences to grab a sword and sheath, guarding it on his waistbelt. He made his own to the tent Guarin spoke of, the sound of his armored steps clicking as he walked on.

He entered the tent, eyes immediately falling towards Fèlen, taken by her beautiful grace once again. Even so, he smiled towards her, showing that there were no ill wounds that scarred him too deeply, if not for the ones he would always carry in his heart.

Guarin cleared his throat, gaining the attention of both Aldren and Fèlen, as well as the few other officers there, including Brother Aldous, who had suspicious glances towards the pair. "The time has come for our attack, but not to the heart of the beast. Not yet. We'll travel to here", he pointed towards the intended location in the map.

"The Crypt of the Fallen? Is that truly wise?", remarked Aldous, his tone as impetuous as always.

"This is where the remainder of the mercenaries are located, looking for ancient artifacts for a purpose i cannot say. If we cut them off, the Temple will have only the soldiers already at their disposal. We don't have the manpower to attack a castle, let alone fight off reinforcements at the same time", Guarin explained the situation, which made sense to Aldren. With so few brothers there, they would be massacred in a siege, especially considering they had no proper siege weapons and had no knowledge of what the rogue Templars were doing back at the Temple.

Still, something didn't feel quite right. And if that creepy name was any indicator, it foretold of ill things to come.

 

[Fèlen]

Just as Aldren was now equipped, so was Fèlen. The loose flowing fabric of her dress was transformed, the fibers of it constricting and compacting, weaving tightly around her frame to thicken and sturdy into a material akin to leather around her torso and thighs and heavy cloth on the rest of her. Still lightweight and flexible, the skirts gone to instead wrap around her long legs and allow her full range of motion and comfort. The pale hue had deepened into an olive tone with strategic accents of umber to blend with the forests around them. A strand had been pulled from her long sleeves, used to tie her long tresses back tightly from her face, still damp and restraining the usual wispy pieces that framed her face.


She had followed Guarin to the main tent, finding a space for her form slightly away from the others. In her hands she tossed the helmet of the still-slumbering soldier, who was sure to wake shortly without ailment. Her gaze flickered towards Aldren as he made his own entrance, noting his kept appearance and new armour. His smile was returned, though there was a tightness to her lips. She tossed the helmet his way as Guarin subtly called for their attention.


His plan was soundly founded, however her arms crossed defensively. A crypt. Just the thought fathomed memories of hallowed figures and betrayal. She preferred the magic of life, she knew growth and fruition as a part of her very being. Though death did not sway her, it was the thought of something that did not rest when it's spirit had already left that brought chills down her spine.


Not only this rational fear, but she was impatient. She didn't care about the mercenaries who had been hired to do the dirty work, eager to grip the false Templars in Justice and send them to their own crypts. Her opinions remained unvoiced as an outsider, already more than aware of the sideways glances given to her by those around them. She was overly assured of her own prowess, swollen with vengeance and the fact that they were surrounded by her element.

"How many will go?" She asked, unsure of how Guarin wanted to approach.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Guarin put both his hands on the table, his gaze lingering a bit on the map before his head rose high and his eyes fell upon Aldren and Fèlen. He wasn't sure how to put out the request he had in mind, but it was a vital one. A dangerous risk they would have to entertain for the good of the rest of those knights, if they had any hopes of remaining alive by the end of that day. And it helped that he could almost grasp the seething taste for justice that had possessed both Aldren and the nymph. If they wished for it, they would have it so.

His rough voice almost echoed throughout the tent, demanding silence and attention. "We'll separate in two fronts. Aldous and i will lead the battlefront in a frontal assault against the mercenaries, drawing them from the crypts while you", the sergeant pointed towards Aldren, "circle around the fighting with Miss Fèlen and find out what's happening down there. A big party going there would be suicide, but i trust the two of you."

Aldren stepped forward, clearly infuriated. "What?! I won't be in the battle?"

"That honor is for real brothers, boy", Aldous cut through the tension, his words hitting Aldren like a brick. He did his best not to give in to the anger and let loose words he would go on to regret later, and so he only waved his head away, ignoring the old man's poisonous remark while looking at Guarin again.

"If that's your order, sir", he spoke, his tone dead serious as the sergeant nodded, relieved.

"Then make haste, brothers. Tonight, our steel tastes blood once again!", Guarin let out the brave words to set ablaze the hearts of those men, with the officers leaving to gather the remaining forces to march upon the crypt. Only Aldren and Fèlen stood behind in the tent along with the sergeant.

"Don't die down there, brother. And you too, miss, or this one would never forgive himself!", he made one last joke before setting out. Outside the tent, the Templars already gathered in position to leave the courtyard. Aldren sighed, his mind now taken with worry for the ensuing battle, almost not noticing the halfling beside him.

No matter how brave and prepared, those moments before a fight were always tense and fearful. No matter the strategy, lives would be lost that night, and many things depended on him and Fèlen now. But as much as he dreaded that moment, he knew how to relish in it. The first drops of his justice would come that night, of that he would make sure.

His eyes fell upon the nymph, his heart yet filled with feelings he tried to brush away, not even the impending battle serving to block them out as he gaze contemplated her beauty once more. And she even looked like a proper warrior now. Aldren knew that Fèlen was strong, and he looked forward to eventually fight besides her again, but his heart was ever uneasy that day.

He approached her, his touch yet soft and tender as his hand reached for the lithe arm, worry evident in his face. He paused for a moment as she looked at him, yet unsure of what words to say. All he could hope now was to see her safely through that night, and to be victorious in their attempt against the rogue Templars and their benefactors.

"Just like Vel Anir, remember?", Aldren said with a small smile.

And so they left the tent, falling only slightly behind the rest of the Templars in their march for the crypt, and the doom that waited them.

 

[Fèlen]

Fèlen adopted a familiar stoicism, one harbored by those steeled to violence. She was not like Aldren, any anticipation was unsurfaced, remaining harbored so deep within it was almost non-existent. Her soft and gentle nature was also removed, the hardened visage she donned making her unrecognizable.


Her eyes narrowed at Adluos's quip, her form sidling in front of him, arms still crossed as her chin rose to stare him down.

"It is a job for disposables." She retorted, challenge strong within her desaturated hues.

"We will put a stop to whatever they are having the mercenaries do down there." She assured Guarin, her shoulder cold as she turned away from Alduos. "We will regroup and join the fight afterwards."


Aldren's sigh was mirrored with one of her own, a hand rubbing at the exposed skin of the back of her neck. She, too, wished that she was instead on the battlefield rather than walking the den of the dead. She looked at her hands for a moment, a silent fear rising within her as her jaw tightened, broken only by his familiar voice and his touch at her arm.


She couldn't help the strained laugh that fell pathetically from her lips, shaking her head softly.

"Perhaps of Vel Anir was full of corpses.." She responded.


A moment later her eyes grew serious, both hands grasping at his own.

"Aldren I.. I need you to swear to me. If you truly feel for me the way you say then I need you to swear… Whatever you see down there, whatever.. happens. You will leave me behind if you need to." Her words were not as steady as she wished them to be, her grip on his hands growing tight with resolve.


"I need you to trust that I am capable on my own."

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren stood lost for words as he looked upon Fèlen, seeing her distraught look as she gripped his hands, tightening them as the dread took hold of her. His heart skipped a beat, trying to take hold of him and let flow the words he so struggled to keep shut, deep inside him. He had abandoned friends and loved ones before, he had failed them already. But not her. He couldn't even think about failing her, no matter what happens. His feelings were real, as real as any blade that once cut his flesh, as real as any monster he slayed before, but even if weighted alongside her request, he couldn't hope to keep his feelings ransom of a promise he would never keep.

He opened his hands slightly, his fingers traveling towards her meek face, lifting her chin only a bit so she could stare deep into his eyes as he talked. "I left my friends behind once. I can't do it again, not even on my love for you. I won't leave you behind, Fèlen. Not while i draw breath."

His calloused hands now seized her small and soft fingers, trying to pass on whatever was left of his bravado and confidence to reassure the halfling of his resolve.

"You're one of the strongest people i've ever met, and i trust you with my life. Whatever happens down there, we'll face it together."

Taking advantage of their closeness and seeking to calm her, Aldren gently kissed her forehead, letting his gaze over her linger a while longer after it. Every time he looked upon her bright eyes, Aldren felt lost. He didn't even know how he gathered the strength to say those words, in the eve of a mission so dangerous for both of them. He knew he needed as much reassurance as her, for there was no certainty that they'd wake up in the next morning, still for this world.

As best he could, Aldren braced himself for the dangers to come.

---

"Steady, brothers! We don't break formation!", Sergeant Guarin shouted as he led the shield wall onwards, facing the brute force of the mercenaries. The first waves of arrows and bolts were repelled with minimum casualty by the knights, the officers chanting while they marched on, ever advancing.

In a short time, the old ruins were now the center of a bloody battle. Steel clashing against steel, the Templars held fast against the numbers of the mercenaries and their superior artillary. Even as outnumbered as they were, those soldiers were formidable and disciplined knights, each worth at least 3 mercenaries, and their mettle was proved as the mercenaries struggled to contain their advances, breaking their already messy formations as the white robes pushed them back.

Meanwhile, Aldren and Fèlen circled around the fighting, taking shortcuts through the woods with care not to attract any attention. Lacking the means for ranged combat, Aldren let Fèlen work her magic to deal with any stragglers from the battle that roamed the outskirts, with the pair eventually reaching the crypt's entrance not too long after.

Aldren stood conflicted as he looked towards the sounds and cries that came from the battlefield, hesitant to enter the crypt. He felt an eerie feeling as soon as he set foot inside the ancient threshold, his magical forces beginning to awaken in response to it.

He glanced at Fèlen for a short moment before stepping forward to the dark and cold grasp of the crypt, to where an ancient force waited, watching their every move.

 

[Fèlen]

"My love for you."


Astonishment crossed over her features at the use of those strong words, the halfling swallowing at the lump it caused to form in her throat. Her grip on his hands loosened, pulled free from the grasp he tried to hold them with as disappointment and frustration overtook her face.


She looked away from him, his desire to protect her stubborn and resilient. She pulled away as he leaned near, once again avoiding his kiss, his rejection of her request striking an angry chord within her. He failed to provide the reassurance he wished to, instead driving her further away.


"If you actually believed those words then you would know I am capable of conquering it on my own." She didn't wait for his response, turning from him abruptly to exit the tent.


--


They cut through the forests easily, their path cleared as they passed and then muddled and hidden behind them to obstruct the mercenaries.


The duo paused at the opening of the crypt, dread rising from within the decrepit swells. She caught Aldren's gaze and the hesitance that rested there.


"..." No words of comfort settled his misgivings as her arms rose with goosebumps. She followed in after him, and immediate rush of haze attacking her mind, forcing her to keep her head low. Her mind was assaulted, the wailing of the dead finally able to have someone to hear their hardships.


A hand grasped at her crest, shaking it faintly before she shouldered through, determined to ignore the silent wailing.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Fèlen's words just before they left for battle still lingered on Aldren's head, smothering his thoughts and making him nervous through the eerie silence as they descended the first set of stairs of the crypt. Not a single bit of light was seen as they went down, save for a few torches that still burned on the walls. Aldren grabbed one of them as a howl was heard coming from deep down, making him stagger and grip tightly the handle of his sword in its scabbard, looking around to see if there were any enemies hiding amid the dark.

As his eyes searched for any signs of the mercenaries' work down there, his mind was still taken by Fèlen, trying to figure out her harsh words and the furious look she gave to him as they left. He couldn't quite understand her motives behind such anger, behind the promise she wanted him to keep to leave her behind, and he was worried about her as they strolled into the crypt, the nymph silent and clearly troubled by something.

Maybe she felt the same things Aldren was feeling in that place, the feeling of the very abyss staring at them as they moved, steps ever careful as Aldren waved his torch, trying to see at least what stood in front of him. It was then that he felt the weight of something by his foot as he tried to move, immediately turning to light the scene, his eyes widening as he saw the corpse.

He was doning mercenary gear and the blood next to him was clearly fresh, his neck cut wide with no signs of struggles. A human sacrifice, surely. But his flesh was rotting, close to decomposing. No doubt the work of foul magic, sapping him of life. His eyes were void, with only a small blue light coming from them.

He heard a voice, scratching the back of his mind, torturing his thoughts and making every move of his body a painful struggle, as a strange chill took over the air.

'What do you see...'​

Aldren hectically searched for the voice's origin, finding only the dark corners of the crypt. He swung his torch around, as if the fire could intimidate whatever dark presence dwelled down there, the same presence that now stalked them, clinging to their very souls and obstructing their minds. Aldren started sweating heavily, his look ridden with fear.

Suddenly, more torches were lit from thin air, illuminating a passage across the room where Aldren and Fèlen stood. A figure, shrouded in a dark cloak, stood at the entrance, his eyes shining with the same color of the mercenary's corpse. A wind soared throughout the crypt, putting out the fires next to the passage's entrance for a second, enough time for the man to disappear.

Aldren felt as if the very room was ever changing, not being able to figure out a way back through the darkness, trapping them down there. He couldn't sense any magic, not even his own. His arms trembled, but he knew they had to carry on, through the new way that was open to them.

"We have to keep moving."

 

[Fèlen]

Whispers slowly scratched at her mind, despite how she tried to ignore them and continue on. They were not the same loving whispers of the forests and woods that embraced her. No. These whispers were terrors. Nightmares. The called to her with a sickening sweetness that promised to lift her to heights she had never known while pulling her down.

She mimicked Aldren, grasping at a torch in hopes that the heat and light of the flame near her face would help block out the silent beckoning, but to no avail. There was magic in the air, dark and suffocating, a hand reaching to grasp firmly at the back of Aldren's neck, her flesh chilled and tremoring. With her touch she conjured a ward, a guard against the evil that struck this place from enveloping him further, allowing him to clear his mind.

She remained eerily quiet, not trusting what voice might come should she try to speak. Be it feared or fearful. With each step she could feel the hammer at her mind grow larger and more persistent, knowing that it wouldn't be long before she broke. She silently cursed herself. She should have strung Aldren up outside, encased him in a thick oaken tree. Anything to keep him from going into the crypts with her. She avoided the corpse he had stumbled into, even with her gaze, refusing to even look down towards it.

She'd had a strong inkling that they would not be alone in the darkness, even so, the fluttering of torches that ran along the walls brought her steps to falter and her muscles to tense. Her heart raced, adrenaline pumping in her veins as her instincts told her to run as an unknown voice rang out against the darkness. Aldren's sudden movements told her he had heard it as well and her jaw tightened.

She nodded to his resolute, drawing in closer to him as they continued on.