Storyboards: Fieron

The Dagashi | Vacation | Brooding | Old woman

Fieron's thoughts wandered as she rode along the Sendarian path. She was bored of vegetating in Sendaria. Peace and calm were good, but she felt she had had enough of it. The fight with the Murgo gave her some satisfaction, as did watching... what was the lad's name? Czrel... recovering from th attack. But it did not last long.
She wanted to go back to Yar Nadrak, but that childish, lecherous king ha placed a bounty on her head, and she was in no mood of wading through crowds of bounty hunters. Arendia riled her, the way everyone expected females to be so docile and fragile.
There was a rustle. She instantly became alert, reining in her horse an canning the surrounding trees for any sign of activity. Silence. Some primeval instinct kicked in and she ducked. An arrow whistled over her head.
Her horse reared, and she was thrown off. She hit the ground, rolled and bounced back onto her feet. Her horse galloped away. She hissed a curse as four men emerged from the shadows of the trees. The Alorn's face was twisted in hatred, while the Sendar had an arrow nocked and his bow was levelled at her. They formed a loose circle around her, just beyond her arm's reach.
'You killed our master!' the Alorn snarled. Fieron stared at him blankly. A Cherek has a master? she thought, and almost laughed out loud. How novel. Unless... Who have I killed recently? The Murgo. So that means... good Gods they're the Dagashi! I'm in trouble now...
'So what're you going to do?' she said quietly. The Dagashi sneered at her, drawing an addersting out from his sleeve. The others unsheathed their knives. So this meant the one talking was the most senior Dagashi.
'Why kill you of course.'
Fieron covered her mouth in mock astonishment, to distract the men from the other, which slipped into her hidden pocket slowly. She closed her fist around a handful of powder. None of them noticed. She breathed a sigh of relief, but did not let it show on her face.
The Dagashi snickered at her reaction. For the first time Fieron blessed the time she spent at Arendia. She made a brief prayer to Issa, then hurled the powder at the senior Dagashi and the Sendar. They screamed, clawing at their eyes, and dropped their weapons. Fieron dodged sideways to avoid the arrow, and spun around to face the other two men. One was staring at her in surprise, but the other one was moving towards her. She swore. She had hoped both of them would be too stunned to react.
She drew her two daggers, trying to avoid the cloud of poisonous dust, but the Dagashi blocked her and forced her to back into the expanding cloud. Fieron breathed as shallowly as possible, knowing that her innate resistance to poisons would not last long against this particular one. Fortunately, the two remaining Dagashi were now both standing opposite her, so she moved backwards quickly to escape.
At that moment, one of the Dagashi lunged at her, knocking the air from her lungs. She rolled to avoid his dagger and plunged her own into his side. The drug she habitually coated the dagger with took effect almost immediately, paralysing him. His heart stopped.
She gasped, unable to hold her breath any longer, and pushed his corpse away as she scrabbled to get onto her feet. The last Dagashi took the opportunity to attack, and she twisted away his stabbing dagger. However, she did not move fast enough, and the dagger sank into her shoulder. She dropped her dagger as she involuntarily cried out and jerked away, but not before she swept his legs out under him. He hit the ground, and got up slowly. Fieron knew he was dying, and so stumbled out of the cloud before she too became poisoned fatally.
The world spun dizzily, and she fumbled with the bottles in her pouch until she found the right one. She pulled out the cork with her teeth and down it in one go, and slumped to the ground, unable to stand anymore. Just as she slipped into oblivion, she dimly saw a figure blot out the sky.

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Fieron came around, to discover she was on a rather comfortable bed, with a Sendar peering down at her concernedly.
'She's awake!' he yelled, and moved away.
'Ah good.' Another man appeared, a handsome Murgo if he did not have scars crisscrossing his face. He rubbed his hands in anticipation. 'Are you feeling better, lady?' The man's movements were too slick and smooth.
Another Dagashi, she suspected.
'Yes...' she sat up, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She reached up to prod it when something jingled. She looked down and saw the chains.
'Oh, I do apologise for that, but after what you did with my skilled but rather unfortunately stupid underlings, I had to take some precautions. Don't worry. I got a female slave to dress your wound... and change your clothing.' He smiled oddly. 'No men present, of course.'
Fieron stared at him for some time, trying to discern the man's thoughts behind those friendly eyes. Eventually, she said,
'What do you want from me?'
'Just a few of your... services. I was looking in your pouch, but didn't open any bottles. You've got quite an amazing range of drugs.'
'Thank you. You want me to poison someone?'
'Perhaps.' The man smiled mysteriously.
'And if I say no?'
'Well then I be disappointed, unlock your chains and let you go.'
'Alive?'
'Sadly no.'
'Pity. But I expected that.' Fieron looked around the room. It was quite pleasant, the typical Sendarian room, with an open window that looked out into a garden. The bars across the window looked sturdy. There was only one other man in the room, the Sendar, who watched her alertly.
'Do allow me to introduce myself.' The man smiled broadly. 'I'm Kratchol.'
'Fyra.' Fieron said curtly. She looked out of the window again. Kratchol followed her gaze and chuckled.
'Looking for a way to escape? I'm afraid you'll have to walk quite a bit to get back to the city. It's fields all the way.' He paused, thinking. 'I'll give you a day to recover, then we must be off. Enjoy your rest.' He stood up and left the room.
Fieron checked what was not taken from her. She was stripped of all her daggers, her pouch and her hair clasp. She was even changed into another dress, one that was heavy and hampered her movement. Strangely enough, she had her bracelets on, and, more importantly, her pendant. The guard was still watching her attentively. She turned her attention on the chains.
The chain was strong, and it was attached to the foot of the bed. It was long enough for her to move around the room, to even reach the guard. She allowed herself a small smile when facing away from the guard.
Now for the shackles and the locks. They were very well made, and she suspected she would need a proper set of lock picks to open this lock, not just with a pin. She would need the key. She hoped it would be on the guard. If not... she would be trapped here.
Pretending to despair, she flung herself onto the bed, and turned her back to the Dagashi, and then examined the thin crust of wax on the pendant minutely. It was not broken. She exalted, and settled back onto the bed, planning her escape. After a while, she dozed off.

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She had to play this out carefully. At the moment, she was having dinner with Kratchol, who watched her warily when he thought her attention was elsewhere, but when she looked up from her food he would beam at her, radiating friendliness. Fieron played with the cutlery as she chewed, pretending to be furtively glancing at the Murgo, then at the wooden fork provided. For that reason, Kratchol was keeping some distance between her and himself.
Coward.
At least his misinterpretation of her intent drew his attention away from other things. For example, her ill-disguised fatigue was a pretence. If he wanted to play, Fieron decided, she would make him regret it.
The Murgo also seemed keen on her escaping, to take a measure of her, Fieron suspected. The day after she had killed Kratchol's minions, a ring with a single key had appeared on the guard's belt, large enough to be noticed. No doubt there would be a trap waiting for her in the stables.
She popped the last piece of bread into her mouth, and set aside the cutlery somewhat reluctantly. The Murgo smiled at her condescendingly.
'I hope you enjoyed the meal.' Fieron smiled wanly at him.
'I did. It was very filling.'
'I'm glad.' The patronising look was on his face again. Fieron froze the smile on her face. 'I must take leave again, Fyra. See you tomorrow.' He patted her shoulder, and left the room.
A Thull woman came in and cleared away the dishes and cutlery, casting nervous glances at the Dagashi guard, and left the room hastily. The guard remained where he was, staring at her blankly. Then, he turned around to walk back to his post. His shoulders moved up and down to his breathing.
She watched carefully, tensing herself.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Now!
She snatched up the chain, threw it over his head and pulled hard. The chain snapped tight around his neck, choking him and throwing him off balance. He stumbled into her, but she held on grimly, twisting around to avoid his thrashing limbs. He was stronger than she expected. She begun to tire, from trying to strangle the Dagashi and doding his flailing arms and legs. The blows she received at close range also started taking their toll on her. Fortunately, he went limp, his weight dragging her to the ground. She tried to stay upright, as the chain dug further into the man's throat, then she too collapsed.
For some time, Fieron lay on the ground, panting hard. Her heart beat a fast tempo, thudding so hard in her chest it almost hurt. Her hands burned like fire from gripping the chains so hard, and her body felt leaden. Then, she managed to stand, wincing as her battered body protested. She changed into the man's clothing, shedding the cumbersome dress gratefully. She tried the key, which - to her surprise - worked. She then tucked her necklace under the tunic, slipped her bound bracelets into her pocket and drew the dagger.
Armed and dressed, she stepped out of the room and shut the door silently.
There was no one.
Another mistake, Kratchol. She bared her teeth in a savage grin. Can you hear me? I'm coming for you.
She started skulking down the dim corridor, wondering what surprises it would bring.

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Hot blood gushed from the wound as Fieron lowered the corpse quietly onto the floor. She listened. Silence, broken by her own heavy breathing, greeted her. She moved on.
She paused at another door, and shifting her grip on the slippery hilt, eased the door open. She found herself staring at the worried faces of three Sendars, before a fist suddenly appeared, coming straight at her face. She ducked, crouching into a protective crouch, and looked up at the attacker. Another Sendar, a man, red-faced with anger and fear. He regained his balance, drawing his fist back for another blow.
'Wait!' she hissed. He hesitated.
'She's the Nyissan they caught,' whispered the young boy.
'She works for them!' snapped the man.
'Hush! They might hear us. And no I don't work for them.' The Sendarian watched her suspiciously as she entered, peering around the dark room. She noticed the Dagashi trussed up in the corner. 'What happened?'
'Father hit him hard and knocked him out.' Fieron raised an eyebrow at the man, who scowled as he closed the door.
'All right then... If you listen to what I say we might just be able to walk out of this mess alive. First of all, where are we?'
'Southern border of Sendaria.' The man glared at the boy, who ducked his head. 'Sorry Father.'
'Great.' Fieron met the gaze of the Dagashi, who looked angry, but at the same time, strangely calm. She begun to feel uneasy, and shifted her weight. The Sendars stared at her bloodied dagger as she walked past them.
Suddenly, the Dagashi sprung up, ripping off the gag and throwing a punch at Fieron. She dodged it, but lost her grip on the dagger as he chopped down on her wrist. She tried to ignore her suddenly numb hand as she kicked him hard on the back of his knee. His legs buckled, but he managed to grab onto a barrel and steadied himself. Fieron in the meanwhile had scooped up the dagger and had it pointed at his throat as he spun around.
His eyes blazed hate as they bored into her face, and he spat.
'You'll never get answers out of me, Fyra.' Fieron calmly wiped the spittle off her face and yanked the necklace hard. The chain snapped.
'See this?' The Dagashi looked uncertain. He knew what had happened to the others she fought. She pulled the cover off with her teeth and dropped it into her palm. She smiled broadly as she held it up in his face. He flinched away from the glistening needle. 'One prick... and you'll die a long and painful death. Remember your friends? The those who weren't even scratched? It's worse than that.' He swallowed, and started speaking slowly.
'Kratchol has a trap in the stables. He wants you to work for us... the Dagashi I mean. And improve the venom on the adderstings.' Fieron's grin did not change.
'And how do I know what you're saying is true?' The Dagashi paled.
'That's all I know.' Fieron slowly lowered the needle onto his throat, never looking away from his eyes.
'Say that again?' she purred. He saw the maniacal gleam in her eyes and babbled,
'Kratchol's got men surrounding the farmhouse, and six men are waiting in the stables! Then he wants to test your ability to make poisons when he gets you to cook for us, but pretending that he doesn't know you're going to poison us! If you're good enough he wants you to poison one of the Murgo princes!' The whites in his eyes showed, as he stared at her, not daring to swallow. She withdrew the needle but not the dagger, and said brightly,
'See how easy that was? Thank you very much. Can one of you' she nodded at the stunned Sendarians 'please help me put the cover back onto my pendant?' The boy immediately leapt up from where he was crouched and did what she asked. She smiled her thanks, and slipped it into her pocket. 'Turn around.' The Dagashi tried to back away, but was stopped by the barrel. 'I won't kill you.' He did so hesitantly. 'One last question. Where is my pouch? And my clothing and daggers.'
'With Kratchol.' His voice quavered pathetically.
'And where's Kratchol?'
'In the kitchen. T-that's the door past the stables.' Fieron reversed her dagger and rapped him on the head with the hilt. He crumpled. She sheathed the dagger and picked up the coil of rope in the corner of the room, noting the badly tied knots, and bound the Dagashi's hands and feet together. She also gagged him again, and dragged him into the corner. The Sendarian man helped quickly stepped in to help her, then together they moved the barrels so that they hid him.
The Sendar stepped back quickly, staring at her, his expression flicking back and forth between suspicion and fear, and hope.
'So what're you going to do?' he asked.
'Get us out of here.' The Sendar woman inhaled sharply, her eyes clearly reflecting the emotions that warred within the man as she gave Fieron a searching look. 'We don't have much time. We'll need to remove Kratchol... as some say... from the equation. Then I'll need my... medicine pouch to get us out of this mess.'
'Why?' the man demanded, 'A drug for headaches won't help in a fight.'
'I can't fight more than one at a time. Two will cripple me, assuming I win, and then we'd be helpless. There're... some things in my pouch which will help me in a fight.' She sighed, gauging the fighting abilities of a man, a woman, a girl and a boy, who also happened to be so conveniently Sendarians and farmers. She massaged her tingling hand, waiting for a response. The Sendars whispered among themselves, and eventually the man nodded.
'We have to agree.' Fieron breathed a sigh of relief.
'Then we go to the kitchen,' she said as she searched the unconscious Dagashi. The search yielded a garrotte and another dagger. She tucked the garrotte in her belt. 'I'll need a guide. The rest will stay.'
'I'll go,' the boy offered before anyone else could say a thing. The woman shot him an angry and worried look. 'Mother, I have to.' Fieron stared at him, then shrugged, giving him the clean dagger. The boy paled, but nodded.
He led her out of the room and down a corridor. Fieron noted with some satisfaction that the boy could walk almost silently. They turned the corner, and saw the back of a Murgo. The boy ducked behind the wall, his eyes wild. Fieron put him out of her mind, uncoiling the garrotte and advanced on the man.
It was over quickly, leaving Fieron trembling with exhaustion. She beckoned to the nervous and sickened boy, who darted forwards and continued walking ahead of her. He stopped at the intersection with a wider passage.
'The first door on the left is the kitchen, and the second the scullery.
The first on the right is the stable,' he whispered. Fieron nodded, putting the cord back into her belt.
'Go back to the room. If I don't appear soon... then that's it.' Without waiting for a response, she padded silently down the passage. She peered through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and the room seemed to be empty.
She moved on, knowing that Kratchol must be hiding somewhere in there. She tried the second door. The Thull woman, who had cleared up the remains of her meal, was washing the dishes. Fieron opened the door, palming the sticky dagger. The Thull ducked her head, too timid to look up. Fieron walked up to her as arrogantly as she could, and rasped with a heavy Murgo accent,
'Where's Kratchol?'
'S-sitting at the table,' the woman quavered.
'Anyone else in there?'
'N-no.' Fieron slammed the hilt into the back of her head and the Thull staggered. She hit her again, and finally the Thull fainted.
'Thick skulls,' Fieron muttered to herself as she quickly changed into the Thull's clothing, strapping the sheathed dagger onto her thigh and coiling the garrotte in her hands.
'Woman! Get me some wine.' Fieron jumped at the sound of Kratchol's voice. She hid the garrotte, and poured out a glass of wine. She shuffled into the kitchen.
Kratchol glanced up briefly in the gloom, and returned to examining the bottles arrayed in front of him. Fieron felt a surge of anger but suppressed it. She pretended to cower while offering the drink. Inside, she was disgusted with herself, for having to be so servile. He picked up the glass and quaffed it, then picked up a bottle thoughtfully.
'Open this when you're ten steps away from me.' Fieron flinched, and took it very slowly. 'Quicker!' She obeyed him and fumbled with the stopper, the fear in her no longer feigned. She did not know whether she was immune to the poison: she only knew it killed. It popped open. Kratchol and Fieron waited with bated breaths. 'Not vaporous. All right drink some of it. Do that or I'll loose my men on you... again.' Kratchol smiled.
Fieron pretended to sip it.
'More.'
Fieron drained the whole bottle. And gasped.
She staggered forwards, clutching at her throat, and collapsed in front of the Murgo. The Murgo looked calm.
'I'll need another servant, it seems.' He turned around, and Fieron sprang up, throwing the cord around his neck and yanking on it. He tried to yell, but no sound came from his mouth as he involuntarily clawed at his throat. Then he twisted and faced her. She spat the poison stored in her mouth in his face. He frantically tried to wipe it off his face, but at the same time Fieron had moved back behind him again, choking him, and he went limp. Fieron did not dare to relax her grip on the garrotte. The Murgo could be playing dead, of course. She counted fifteen heartbeats, then let the cord go slack.
She sunk to the floor, the weight of the corpse dragging her down with it, and spat, trying to rid the bitter tang of the poison from her mouth. Wearily, she got back onto her feet, coiling the garrotte and tucking it into her belt, and gathered her poisons. She strolled back to the room, a smile on her face, while she anointed the dagger with one of her favourite poisons.
'What're we going to do now?' the man asked when she entered the room, anxious for some action.
'How much is this house and farm worth to you?' she replied, 'Compared to your lives I mean.'
'We can always rebuild it... We've got some money in the bank,' he said doubtfully, 'What do you have in mind?'
'It's the dry season now isn't it?'
'Yes it's as dry as it gets. Drier than usual if anything.'
'And the crop outside is dry?'
'Yes.' The man frowned at her, wondering what she was getting at. Fieron sheathed the dagger, and slipped the bottle back into her pouch.
'It'll catch?'
The man's eyes widened. 'You want to set fire to the farm?'
'Yes. Set it on fire...' She smiled mirthlessly. 'Sort of my namesake.
And no doubt the Dagashi will start panicking... and we can escape then.
Where's the easiest place to set fire to?'

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Fieron peered around the hayloft, and grinned.
'Perfect. The wind's blowing the right way too. Be prepared to lead the horses out of the stables.' She slid down the ladder, and stared at the peacefully slumbering Dagashi with disgust. 'Can't leave them here to burn to death.' She drew out a tube of clear liquid. 'You go out first. Hide in the bushes and try to be quiet... the dry leaves will crackle.' The boy led his family out of the stables, while Fieron watched them. When they were adequately hidden, she threw the torch into the loft and waited.
The bone-dry hay lit almost immediately. Within a few moments the entire loft was on fire, and started spreading into the stables. Horses reared and bucked wildly, neighing and screaming in terror. Fieron threw down the tube, which shattered, and vaporised quickly. The Dagashi started stirring.
'Fire!' Fieron shouted hoarsely, trying to sound Murgo. The Dagashi jumped up, staring around in confusion. The wind whipped through the loft, thanks to the open windows, and sparks spiralled towards the crop of beans. A few small fires started in the fields. The Dagashi, now fully regained of their senses, released the horses, swinging themselves onto it and riding out. The Sendarian family joined them, grabbing hold of reins as horses galloped out, and Fieron realised with some worry that she did not know how well they could ride. As it turned out, the man and the boy knew how to ride, and so the girl and the mother could sit behind the riders, clinging onto their waists. Good.
Amidst the smoke and chaos, a few Dagashi tried to locate the well to extinguish the fires, while others yelled to each other in the darkness.
'Where's our master?' 'I don't know!' 'What do we do now?' Fieron grinned, smoothing down her slightly singed hair with a shaky hand. The timing was perfect. A dark figure ran towards them, sobbing and wailing. It was the Thull woman. Before any of them could react, the woman sprinted towards the highway, and was swallowed by the darkness.
Fieron looked around again. They had to move, or else they would be surrounded and trapped by the fire.
'Follow me!' she yelled, and rode after the Thull. Two sets of hooves pounded behind her as the horses galloped away from the burning house and fields. She laughed, giddy with exhilaration and fatigue.

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Vacation
Quietly, the figure slinks up to the door, and, casting one last furtive glance around the dark street, knocks quietly on the door.
Silence.
Swearing softly, the figure lifts its hooded face to examine the wall of the mansion, and shrugging, pulls out a key.
Click.
Then it is in, padding silently along the carpeted corridor, up the stairs, all the while keeping to the shadows.
Hhkkrrrnnnnn...
The figure jumps, palming a blackened dagger, but realises it is just a sound sleeper's snore. It moves on.
Click.
The door swings open on oiled hinges, and closes again.
Click.
Cautiously, the figure approaches the bed, and, darting in quickly, muffles the sleeper's mouth with one hand.
'Mmff!'
The sleeper jerks awake, and the figure is almost dislodged. The hood falls back. The man's eyes widen and he freezes.
'Fffmmmm!' he exclaims.
'Hush.' Fieron whispers, and releases Jaegos. Jaegos rubs his eyes groggily, squinting in the dim light of the crescent moon.
'What're you doing here? I thought you were going to kill me!' he mumbles, giving Fieron a reproachful look.
'What?' Fieron asks, her intense look giving way to puzzlement for a moment. Then she looks down at the dagger in her hand. 'Ah. That. Well.' She stows it away, looking somewhat sheepish.
'Where were you? We were all so worried!' Jaegos reaches out to stroke his wife's raven-black hair. Even in the dark, it gleams brightly. 'Are you all right, dear?'
Playfully, she bats his hand aside. 'Of course I am, wool head.' Then she becomes serious again. 'I can't stay for long.'
His face falls. 'Why not?'
'I need to check my clan. I've been hearing some disturbing rumours about Murgos... and well, I've confirmed them.' She rolls her eyes. 'Vylena and Kessik's little affairs, although well meant, have certainly set the Murgos' blood on fire.' She adds under her breath, 'And mine too.'
'Be careful then, Fiefie.' They stare at each other for a while. 'When will you be back?'
Fieron grimaces, running a hand through her hair. 'I don't know.'
'Can't I help?' Jaegos gives her a pleading look.
Fieron shakes her head apologetically. 'Sorry, Jae.'
He sighs. 'I should've known better than ask.'
'It's all right. I know you worry.' Fieron leans forward and pecks him on the cheek. 'I'll come back as soon as I can.'
With that, she stands up. Jaegos' hand lashes out, grabbing her by the wrist, and he pulls her down, locking his lips with hers. They kiss for a long time. Eventually, Jaegos draws back, looking lovingly into her eyes. Fieron sighs happily, fondly caressing his cheek.
'Off you go, then.' Jaegos beams at her. 'I know how much the clan is to you.'
Fieron makes a face. 'Well that paperwork certainly got on my nerves. I'm much happier to let Shinara deal with all that nonsense.' She pauses. 'See you, then.'
'Be safe,' murmurs Jaegos as the woman slips out of the room, drawing up her hood. He smiles sadly, watching her cloaked form move down the street towards the clan hall. 'Be safe...'
'Jaegos!' snaps a voice behind him. He jumps, turning around.
'Mommy!' he exclaims, blushing a deep crimson. 'You were listening!'
'And watching.' Jaegos' face becomes redder. 'Oh silly boy,' Faeline grins, ruffling her son's hair. 'It wasn't like you were doing anything intimate.'
'Mommy...' Jaegos glares at her. 'It's just... just not right.'
'Whatever you say dear,' she says placidly, then suddenly her tone hardens. 'Why did you let her run away like that? She's always doing that to you.'
'If she doesn't, she won't be Fie.' explained Jaegos, a smile tugging at his lips. Already his annoyance and embarrassment is beginning to fade.
Faeline tsked. 'You youngsters!'
'Hey! I'm not that young! I'm a man!’
'Yes, dear,' she says distantly.
'Mom...' Jaegos sulks. Faeline raises an eyebrow. Grumbling, Jaegos folds his arms.
'So what's wrong? It isn't like you to smile like that.'
'Like what?'
'Well, like when you were watching Fie leave.' Jaegos' brow furrows. 'You don't understand why she doesn't want help?' Faeline guesses.
'Yeah...' he admits.
'Like you said, if she accepts help, she won't be Fie.' Faeline suddenly scowls. 'That girl's too stubborn for her own good.'
'I know! If she just told us we could have finished this months ago. Instead of her running off...' He brightens. 'You travelled with her before, haven't you? So do you know what she will do?'
Faeline eyes him. 'You aren't thinking about running away, are you?'
'No.' Jaegos shakes his head. 'Guess not.'
'Get some sleep, dear. There's no point in worrying about something you can't do anything about.' Faeline pecked him on the forehead. 'Now go to bed.'
Jaegos stifles a yawn and nods, climbing back between his sheets. Within moments, he is asleep. Faeline watches him for a moment longer, then leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

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The guard spins around, drawing his sword in one smooth movement. His blade slashes down at the air, then dips to touch the floor.
'Glad to see your reflexes haven't slacked.' Fieron grins cheekily.
'L... lady Fieron?' says the guard incredulously.
Fieron raises an eyebrow. 'I never knew I was a lady.' She peers through the gate. 'Nothing much has changed. Except probably the people. Is Shinara in?'
'Yes, she is. You are looking for her?'
Fieron bites back a sarcastic retort, and nods. 'I'll find her myself. Have a good evening.'
'See you soon, la... Fieron.'
She hurries along the path, barely sparing the gardens a glance before she is through the doors. Not that there is anything to see in this dark. She winces slightly, waiting for her eyes to adjust, and shuts the doors behind her.
Nothing has changed. The same foyer, the same signs, the same lounge. She slows when she sees the old man sleeping soundly in the armchair, an open book in his lap, and crosses to a corridor as quietly as she can. She stops at one door, raps her knuckles on the door and enters without waiting.
'Fieron?' Shinara says, startled.
'Aye, Shin.' She closes the door and plonks herself onto the ground. 'How are you doing, old friend?'
'As usual,' the old Algarian replies, once again calm and serene. 'So what brings you here after such a long absence?'
'Bad news. The Murgos now believe Wanderers is a clan which aims to wipe out all Murgos. Not that I would mind it, but we're going to be in trouble.'
'Yes, I was wondering about that.' Shinara gives Fieron a sharp look. 'Weren't you the one who started all this?'
'I was defending a boy's life. The Murgo attacked him for no reason!' She throws her hands in the air. 'You know what happened.'
'And that attack on the Dagashi probably didn't help matters much.'
'I know, but they kidnapped me.' Fieron's eyes flash with anger.
'Yes, but you know how news travels.'
'Oh, all too well,' Fieron mutters darkly. She stares blindly at the floor, then looks up. 'How're Delminia and Rhyrmon?'
Shinara smiles. 'Making trouble... as usual. They seem to have fallen in love with the cook's cookies.'
'Really?' Fieron says, her voice trailing off as she gazes off into space again.
'You needn't worry. We don't expect you to be a one-woman army. I'm sure we can work something out.' She pauses. 'You can go back and stay with Jaegos for a while. I think it'll do you some good if you stayed out of this one.'
'But-'
'You need rest, Fie.'
'But Shin!'
'No buts. I'm the leader now.'
'If you say so.' Fieron sighs, climbing to her feet. 'See you.' She leaves the room, shoulders slumping a little with exhaustion, and perhaps something else.

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Brooding
The shadow stretched out in front of her, and she stared into the beautiful sunset. The quietness of the mountains soothed her nerves, and at the same time, made her feel she was missing something. The evening chill was beginning to set in, and shivering slightly, she drew her oilskin cloak tighter around herself.
She could not bring herself to face Jaegos.
Why?
She pressed her lips into a thin line, gazing at the glorious sky, painted reds and oranges and yellows, fading into a dark blue. Nope, no answers there.
She lay back, thinking back to the hectic wedding they had, what with Dryads and Faeline throwing tantrums. She smiled, if only for the briefest of a moment. The sky darkened, the bright colours faded, dimming to a deep blue, then finally a black. Stars appeared, twinkling in the sky.
Sighing, she stood, dusting off her cloak. She took a swig of Othlass from her skin, and squatted next to her fire, a short distance away from the boulder she recently vacated. She gave it a few half-hearted prods with a stick, and pulled her knees to her chin.
She loved him, he loved her. She never had a problem with him being a blacksmith, nor him being the practical Sendar he was. It was simply part of... him. Most Sendars would probably regard her as a bad wife. She was never home, she did not want children, she could never stay in one place for too long.
Perhaps she was afraid of disappointing him. Perhaps. Perhaps she was afraid she would face him one day, and find that she no longer loved him. Maybe she was afraid of having to settle down in the Raines mansion, to have to be the perfect model of a wife. Or that they would no longer be able to relate on the same level. After all, she had travelled far more extensively than he had.
Either way, she felt she needed more time. She laughed at herself. She sounded like one of the ladies in the Arend love stories, except everything seemed a lot less funny now she was in their position.
'Enough angsting,' she admonished herself, and turned her mind back to the task of curing pelts.

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Old woman
Fieron stared moodily out of the window, trying to summon some enthusiasm for the work in the day ahead. Healer. What madness! She, with the blood of the Snake and Dragon flowing through her veins! But Faeline had suggested it, likely at Jaegos' behest. Stability meant everything to her Sendarian love, and when she was offered such a position - not something to be taken lightly - she had seen the look in her husband's eyes.
But to her, stability had always represented stagnancy. Still water grew stagnant - only flowing water remained fresh and lively. Absently, she reached out and fingered her daggers, and found the familiar carvings of a crook and a W. She wondered how the clan was doing-
Damn it!
Suddenly angry, she slammed a fist onto her desk. Glass tinkled as they gently bumped into each other, and she quickly reached out to stop the precariously swaying forest of glass. A passing maid paused, but moved on as Fieron waved an irritable hand at her. Thankfully, Jaegos was out early again. Out helping with the reconstruction of the palace and other buildings destroyed during the fight with the demon.
Her gaze settled on the daggers again, on the single W. Setting up the clan was not what she had expected. If anything, it was yet another anchor, another obligation to stay in Sendar. Yet at the same people, people came and went, and faces changed. Kemeron had finally taken his leave - expected, but there was still a touch of sadness when she had heard. But she had no regrets. She never did - never let yourself, a small voice in her mind said - about those things.
With a shake of a head, she dismissed those thoughts and rose, donning the white gown (white!) over her comfortable leathers. Moodswings and brooding, she thought as she tied the soft belt over her soft gown, are part and parcel of becoming old, and becoming an old woman, at that. I hate being a woman sometimes. She examined herself in the mirror with more than a touch of distaste. But... Faeline was adamant about it.
Once upon a time, she would have shouted, yelled, and stormed out, twin daggers in hand in search of someone to vent her anger upon. Now, it seems, she would have to settle with beating on desks. Oh... and brooding. How could she forget? But for now, it was time to look at yet more urine flasks and joyful faces.

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