Sir Rebecca felt the air leave her lungs as the force of the hit dented her armor and flung her back three paces. She landed on one knee, hard.

  [You have taken 27 points of Blunt Force Damage. Equipment: Royal Plate has prevented 18% Damage, rounded up. You take 23 points of Blunt Force Damage.]

  The maid shook her hand and grimaced at her bruised knuckles.

  “You d-dare!” Rebecca didn’t wait for her breath to catch up with her, launching from her lowered position and tackling the elf in the thighs, sending her tumbling. Rebecca was on top of her, throwing a punch that was blocked by the maid’s forearm, when the elf twisted.

  Suddenly, Rebecca was toppling to the side, catching herself on one hip as she hit the cobblestone. Another 3 Hit Points lost.

  “I dare? You dare!” The maid sat up and lashed out with a kick that hit Rebecca’s left shin grieve.

  It wasn’t a fair fight, and both knew it. The pair rolled apart and to their feet. Rebecca crouched into a fighting stance, while the maid put both hands on her hips and looked down at the knight with utter distain.

  “After the way your insufferable commander has treated us, you have the audacity to insult my lady!” The maid huffed. She flung her hands up but didn’t attack. “Well, I'm not having it! Get out of my way, I’m going to stop this wedding if it's the last thing I do!”

  The maid turned on her heel and marched down the street.

  "Wait!" Rebecca straightened and jogged after her, "Wait, where are you going?"

  The maid shot the knight a look when she came up beside her, and frowned. “Don’t make me repeat myself, lizard.”

  “That’s Sir Rebecca to you, long-ears.” Rebecca shot back immediately, wondering how she’d been brought so low but not caring. “What did you mean you’re going to stop the wedding?”

  “Just that. And you can’t stop me.” The maid stuck up her chin and kept going, marching around a corner.

  “I don’t mean to.” Rebecca told the obnoxious elf. “I came to talk some sense into Sir Bastian - to help find a way out of all this."

  The maid scoffed, “That drakin isn't interested - and even if he was, the only way to break the contract without harming my lady, or your commander, is if the royals themselves… if the royals break their part of the contract.”

  She stopped in the street, an idea clear on her face. The maid eyed Rebecca up and down, taking her measure. “Rebecca was it?”

  Something in the elf’s eyes made the knight step back. “Yes?”

  The maid nodded, stepping closer. “Lishinia, of the Linden family. You can call me Lish.”

  “I’d rather not.” Rebecca retorted. Something about the way Lish was behaving led Rebecca to add, “I’d rather call you a boat to take you and your lady home.”

  “That’s my hope. Tell me, Sir Rebecca, what would you be willing to do to save your commander?” Lish leaned in close to the lizardkin, staring straight into Rebecca’s soul.

  “Anything.” Rebecca replied, honestly. The knight commander was the reason she was who she was today. He had saved her life too many times to count. He was willing to sacrifice for his people, and she wasn’t afraid to return the favor.

  “Then let’s call a truce.” Lish held out her hand to Rebecca. “Until we end this disastrous marriage.”

  Rebecca reached out and shook her enemy’s hand. No regrets. “I’m in.”

  “Then follow me,” Lish said, and continued her way into the city.

  …

  Howl’s POV:

  Howl reached the other side of the Valley Crest at noon the day after he’d left home, and he was met with a terrifying and ferocious storm… twenty paces away from his destination.

  It turned out his sister had slept at an inn last night, but she’d left hours before.

  “Do you know where she was headed?” He asked a half-elf standing at the inn counter.

  “Nope.”

  “Do you know how long this storm is going to last?” He asked, pointing at the torrential rain blocking out the sky over half of the town.

  “Nope.”

  “... but you must know where I can hire a horse?” He asked, holding his breath.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Out the door, red roof on the left,” The half-elf said, pointing over Howl’s shoulder.

  Howl decided to cut his losses and grab a quick bite before charging into the wet unknown. He needed the fortification.

  The inn, luckily, had a creamy mushroom soup paired with a warm loaf of fresh made sourdough and unigoat butter.

  After filling his stomach with two bowls, Howl set off into the dark rains…

  And immediately regretted not bringing a hat. His school robes were made out of water-resistant heavy wool… but they were instantly drenched.

  Worst of all, it was three hours before he finally passed someone on the road, and they’d seen neither hide nor hair of Peregrine.

  Either she was further ahead than he’d expected, or he’d lost his sister’s trail.

  Determined to not be disheartened, Howl pushed through the day and the night until he reached a small inn near the Nilheim border. The Dark Enchanted Forest was close enough that he could see the break in the clouds off in the distance. As much as he wanted to march into the morning light right then and there, he also wanted to be fully rested before braving the woods.

  He booked a room and slept eight hours, waking up late afternoon. The inn had washed and dried his robes for him… but after glancing outside he made a hard decision.

  “You ain’t going out like that are you?” The gloomy innkeeper stood at the front desk when Howl came down, and gave the young elf a dubious look.

  “There isn’t anyone to dry my cloak at the border,” Howl reasoned, standing there in leggings and his under tunic. His school robes and cloak were packed away, ready to be brought out when he reached the sunshine.

  “It’s your own skin. You should buy a hat.”

  Howl agreed, but there wasn’t a conveniently placed hat shop in the small village, so he was going to have to make do with getting wet.

  Or not.

  He opened the Inn door and paused to draw breath, bracing himself before walking into the torrential downpour.

  And as he did, the rain stopped. The clouds broke and the most vibrant rainbow Howl had ever seen in his life stretched out across a blue sky. Howl would’ve stood there staring at the wonder, except everyone in the inn rushed out into the street, pushing him aside.

  “The sky! Bertha! It’s the sky!” An older elf was crying and holding his wife on their patio next door, and they weren’t the only ones. Every door to every house in the village was thrown open as people poured out into the streets.

  The innkeeper was standing beside Howl, his own eyes a touch red. “Six months, can you believe it?”

  “I can’t imagine.” Howl answered. It was long past the spring equinox and already May. With the sun shining, the cold seeped away and left a humid afternoon in its wake.

  "The sun!" A little girl in a blue rain cloak hopped onto a cart and threw off her raincoat. Grabbing her matching blue hat, the girl threw it into the air.

  "To the sun!" Her father responded by throwing his own hat and picking her up, spinning her around in a fit of laughter. All around them, more and more people took up the cheer.

  "To the sun!" They called, thrusting umbrellas high and tossing hats and caps into the sky. Many laughed and danced, while a few even shed tears.

  The innkeeper sighed, his entire demeanor changed. “Well, fine weather and fair travels. Stop in on your way back, you hear?”

  Howl nodded, then set off towards the Dark Enchanted Forest.

  Behind him, a solitary unhappy voice cried out into the streets. "Wait! Hat! Come back!"

  …

  Howl was four days into Nilheim before trouble found him.

  Honestly, he was more surprised it'd taken this long. The Dark Enchanted Forest was notorious for random encounters. Even when traveling the safety of the Great Road, like he had. But in all that time, he'd only passed a few mushfolk and a wagon of goods heading towards Servalt.

  He was a few hours from the center of the forest, walking along on what he'd thought was an empty road, when he was ambushed.

  “What do we have here?” A voice asked as Howl suddenly found himself upside down, held aloft by one ankle. “You aren’t the usual assassin.”

  “I’m not an assassin!” Howl said, thrashing about to pull his clothes off his face and see what was happening. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when he realized he’d been caught by a tall cougar beastman.

  “Call Sgt Ralith.” The beastman yelled. “We have a strangely dressed elf who says he’s not an assassin.”

  “What’sss all thisss, Sssandersss,” A slurred voice asked, and Howl stared up into the eyes of an angry looking lizardkin. Sgt Ralith was shorter that the cougar, though his pointy hair stood straight up to almost the beastman’s full height.

  “We found this elf traveling alone.” Sanders explained. “He’s obviously an assassin. Look at his clothes.”

  “I am not an assassin!” Howl repeated. “And what’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “They are weird.” The lizardkin tapped his pointy chin and inspected Howl. “If you aren’t an assassin, then what are you?”

  “I’m an elf.” Howl replied, thinking it were obvious.

  “We know you’re an elf, you idiot.” Sanders said, shaking him once for good measure. They must be members of the Dark Horde, for who else went around calling themselves militia titles, and they were all of them looking at him like he wasn’t the brightest.

  Which wasn’t fair. Howl had many years of schooling, probably more than all of these monsters combined!

  “What we want to know,” Sgt Ralith said, “Isss who are you, where are you’re from, where you’re going, and why.”

  Howl took a deep breath and answered simply and honestly. “I am Count Howl Fern, of Sumbria. I’m going to a wedding–”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so earlier!” Sanders cut him off, righting Howl and setting him down in one quick fluid motion that left the elf reeling. The beastman deftly fixed Howl's clothes, saying, “Sorry to handle you like that, Your Excellency, we weren’t expecting someone from Sumbria… were we?”

  “No.” Sgt Ralith eyed Howl. “Do you have an invitation to the wedding?”

  “In my pack.” He replied, crouching down to open the bag that had fallen to the floor. He pulled out the letter with his father’s sigil on it. “Though I’m not sure exactly what it says. My father told me to deliver it to Their Royal Highness and go from there.”

  Sgt Ralith took the scroll and saw the magically bound wax seal. He nodded. “Alright, we’ll take you to Rowen– they should be at Lake Loria by now, overseeing the decorations.”

  Howl realized with dawning horror that the wedding they were taking him to, and the wedding he was on his way to, weren’t the same wedding, - but he kept his mouth shut.

  If Their Royal Highness Rowen was there, he might still get out of this alive.