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Myrra stood on deck, looking out at the horizon and the endless sea of green. The winds blew in from the east making the tall grass of the Great Plains ripple like waves on the ocean, the dew-drenched blades glittering in the light of the morning sun. Thankfully, she wore her flight goggles, the tinted glass dulling the brightness of the blazing star and blocking the wind from drying out her eyes.

They had left Elven territory last night, crossing over the border of their nation and into the massive expanse that was the Great Plains. It came as a relief to her, the weighty feeling of her goddess' scales having been lifted. Here, in the Great Plains, there was no law, no order, no monarch to rule over the ocean of green. Just nature. And because it was just nature that ruled over this place, the balance here for justice was perfect, for there was nothing to tip the scales in one direction or the other.

Usually, Isyngrad, the capital city, and most of the surrounding districts would be perfectly balanced as well, but the previous morning she had woken up to find the scales slightly tilted to the side of chaos. She has yet to understand why or find out who it is that is causing the balance to be led askew, but once she returns from her mission, she will find out who is behind it, and they will wish they had never messed with her home.

Everything was happening so fast, summoned to the Queen and then informed war was inevitable, promptly promoted and then given hardly more than a few hours to pull together a crew that she could trust. That part was actually pretty easy. She had many favors to call in, perks of being a diplomat, and she knew many people who were trustworthy and loyal.

Her people weren't big enough to be called a full crew, just a little over half a dozen at around eight elves including herself. What they lacked in numbers, however, they made up for in skill. In the end, it all balanced out, just as all things should.

“So, Cap', what exactly is our mission? Kinda obvious we headin' for the human kingdoms but ya ain't told any of us what we be up to," spoke the elf to Myrra's right, clutching the wheel in her dainty hands and turning it to counter the push of the wind.

Kasila Teralith, or as the rough and tough elf preferred to be called, Kaster. She was one of Myrra's closest friends and perhaps the shortest elf the Symbol Bearer has ever seen. She was so short in fact, that she had to stand on a box to reach the wheel to steer the ship. Most people get over the surprise of her stature when they come to realize that she is half-dwarf.

One should not underestimate Kasila Teralith based solely on her height, for she was a master at engineering and possibly the best in both the human and elven nations combined. The fact of her trade was present all over her body, dressed in thick brown pants and a white shirt with innumerable stains, a leather harness strapped across her body with pouches containing an assortment of unknown items as well as holsters for countless tools.

Her hair was short, unruly, and greasy black in color, most likely because it was covered in grease and oil. A pair of goggles were strapped over her chocolate brown eyes and a heavily stained bandana was tied around her forehead.

The most eye-catching thing about her, however, is that her left leg was replaced by a mechanical prosthetic from just above the knee down. It lacked any type of outward plating, leaving it bare for all to see its skeletal structure and inner workings. Gears turned and pistons shifted when she moved or put weight on her fake leg, making it give off little whirs whenever she walked. There was a central cylinder located among the jumble of gears, wires, pulleys, and pistons. Embedded into it were small slivers of arcane crystal, runes Myrra was unfamiliar with etched into the metal around them.

Myrra had to have Kaster as part of the crew, mostly because she trusted the small half-elf, but mainly because the airship that now belonged to her had been designed and engineered by Kaster. Speaking of the ship, they really needed to give it a name, but that could wait for now.

“Our mission is to open a trade deal with King Ortho Dexan for arcana rich ore and arcane crystals," Myrra replied simply, giving her friend a sidelong glance and smirking as the small elf's brow furrowed at the lack-luster response.

“Right, right," Kaster says, waving away Myrras's reply, “But what's our real mission? Ya really expectin' me to believe that hogwash? Think again, Princess."

Myrra's face fell into a scowl; her friend knew all too well she hated being called a princess. She had no desire to take the throne, only to inherit her birthright and help ease her aunt's burdens as well as to heal the forest. She could not deny, however, that her desire to be the next priestess was not wholly unselfish.

“Very well," she sighs, clasping her hands behind her back. “Your mission is to stay with the ship, keep it running, stock us with supplies, and enjoy Idota while we are there."

“Aye' sounds like fun fer the rest of us, but wha' 'bout you?" Kaster presses, the smirk on her face now falling into a slight frown, eyes narrowing at Myrra and brow crinkling with concern.

“Mine is to facilitate the 'trade deal' with the King. Or in other words, to sneak around the palace and figure out why our human neighbor has suddenly decided to turn on us."

Kaster's usual smirk returned to her face once things became clear to her, “Right dangerous that is. Ya sure ya up to the task? Pretty little princess not scared of getting her hands dirty?"

She glared at her friend, tone calm and collected, “If you call me that one more time, I swear I'll throw you overboard. You should also know that I have never been against getting my hands dirty when the time calls for it."

“I know, I know! I'm just messin' with cha'" Kaster chuckles, gently elbowing Myrra in her side. “Anyway, you wouldn't throw me overboard even if ya wanted to."

She looked at her friend quizzically, eyebrow raised, “And why, pray tell, would that be?"

“'Cause, you would miss my company!" She smirked, “Plus, I'm the only one who knows how to keep this fine vessel running!"

Myrra couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips from blooming, shaking her head as she laughed.

“I suppose you are right about that, Kaster."

“'Course I am! I'm always right!" Chirped the half-elf proudly. Then her tone turned serious, somber even, “Anyway, is it true that Dexan is moving against us?"

The smile on Myrra's face fell, the joyous atmosphere now turning serious once more. She didn't meet her friend's gaze, instead choosing to continue gazing out across the sea of green, tracing the horizon as she thought about what to say.

“I'm afraid it is, their troops have been spotted crossing along the edges of the Great Plains and through the smaller forests that surround its borders, and by the looks of things, it seems they are all headed straight for the Great Forest."

“Hmm," hummed Kaster, eyes focusing on the horizon as well. “Think we'll see any o' their troops on the way to Idota?"

“Doubtful, they are taking the long way around, the troops traveling through the forests that flank the Great Plains while their siege weapons are transported along its edge."

“Why would they go 'round the plains when it's quicker to just fly straight across?"

“We, that being the Queen and I, believe they are trying to take a more stealthy approach. If they were to fly across the plains on airships, we would have known far sooner. Moreover, our forest is thick, the only place to land would be in the Great Plains themselves and then move inward, or try and take over one of our landing platforms. Neither of which is ideal considering they would lose the element of surprise almost instantly."

Kaster nodded along as she explained, “Aye' that makes sense, but how did we find out they were traveling through the forests?"

Myrra hadn't thought about that, how did the queen receive news that Dexan troops were on the march if they were taking a route that hardly anyone ever traveled? A route that, in theory, should have kept them well hidden till it was too late.

The forests that flank either side of the Great Plains were vast and dangerous, but it was not unheard of for small towns and villages to pop up here and there. Mostly, they were built by refugees, people fleeing from somewhere to somewhere else in hopes of a better life. No one controlled the Great Plains or its forest companions, it was neutral territory, a great expanse that served as a border between the elven nation and the human kingdoms. As such, it was rather easy for a large group, say a band of refugees, to set up their own small community, so long as they could fend off the monsters that called the woods home.

However, if the Dexan troops had passed by or even stayed at one of these unofficial villages, the villagers may have alerted the elves of the imminent threat. Why, is another mystery altogether. Having been a diplomat previously, she could think of several reasons one of these villages might do such a thing.

One might be to grow some form of friendly relations with the elves. Another could be to indebt the elves to them, giving them a lifeline should they ever be in trouble. Another possibility is to get revenge, but that one would require a whole lot of reasoning and motivation and would hinge on if Dexan had wronged these people in some way. Which is quite possible now that she thinks about it.

She shakes her head, ending her train of thought. No need to dwell on things that no longer mattered. They knew of Dexan's movements, how they had acquired the information, while important, was of little concern until all of this was taken care of.

“I do not know, but I have a few theories," said Myrra, “But depending on where the scales tip on this journey, another mission from my goddess may popup."

“Oh? Whatcha mean by that?" Kaster asked, raising a brow and giving Myrra a questioning look.

“I spoke with Milady last night, in a dream," Myrra explained, “It is quite possible that in the near future, the Kingdom of Dexan will be lacking a ruler."

***

Myrra knew she had just fallen asleep, snuggled up in the soft mattress and warm sheets of her cabin's bed. Yet here she was, completely aware and walking among a garden full of white flowers.

The private garden of her goddess still disturbed her to this day, because just beneath the rich soil of the flowerbeds, sticking out partway, were a multitude of skulls. Not a single race was left out, all of them judged equally in the eyes of Rayla, goddess of light and justice.

Yet, even with the disturbing sight of bleach-white bone sticking out of the brown dirt, there was serenity in this place. The balance between chaos and harmony was perfect, even more so than the Great Plains or the Great Forest of Aelia, home of the elves. Though this place was also a dream controlled by the goddess of light and justice, so the feeling could all just be an illusion, Myrra had no way of knowing.

She tread the all too familiar paths, brushing past carefully tended rose bushes, their white petals still a sight to behold, and the unruly, out of control, wild trees and plants that made up the rest of the garden. The carefully tended flowerbeds, surrounded by wild, unkempt wilderness, it was all such a strange yet fascinating sight.

Quickly, she found the gazebo situated deep within the garden, a woman of stunning beauty sitting on the edge of a bubbling fountain. Her skin was pale like the surface of the moon and it glowed much the same, her hair long and white, just like Myrra's, or rather, Myrra's just like hers. It was due to the goddess' blessing that Myrra's hair was the same as her patron. She was the representative of a goddess after all; she had to represent her goddess in looks as well.

Rayla wore rather simple attire, a light blue toga with golden clips keeping the garment tied around her body, a silver sash pulled across her front, and a few silver pins decorating her hair. She never was one for fancy clothes and opulent displays of wealth and power like some of the other gods.

Resting next to her was a set of golden scales, a pearly white skull resting in the left pan holder, and a beating heart in the right, perfectly balanced. Though that should have been physically impossible, seeing as one weighed more than the other. Myrra has since learned not to question things of divine nature.

The goddess turned to her as she approached, her glowing white eyes shining with fondness. She scaled the scant few steps up to the gazebo floor, rushing over to her goddess and dropping to one knee, bowing her head in subservience.

“Milady, how may I assist you?" Myrra spoke reverently. Just being near her goddess was like an energy boost, she felt like she could take on an entire army single-handedly! The amount of arcana that was just flowing off the diving being was insane! The aura her lady was emitting so large and powerful that it put even Queen Evalon's show of strength from the other day to shame. Thankfully, her lady was keeping her power contained to not overwhelm her, something Myrra was eternally grateful for—she was not keen on experiencing arcane overload again.

“Myrra, my Champion!" said the goddess fondly, “What makes you think I need your assistance? Could this not be just a simple social call?"

Myrra raised her head and smirked at her goddess, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Milady, we both know you don't tend to do social visits, whenever you summon me there is usually a reason as to why."

Rayla sighed exasperatedly and shook her head, motioning for Myrra to rise and join her. She did so, rising to her feet and gracefully sitting down on the stone bench that made up the rim of the fountain.

“You are not wrong, my dear. I was watching the proceedings yesterday," explained Rayla, gaze shifting back to the burbling centerpiece.

She was not surprised; her goddess was technically always watching, indirectly seeing and experiencing the mortal world through her. It was no secret that, from time to time, the gods would come down and live among mortals for a few decades or centuries before returning to their abodes in the Ether.

It wasn't that long ago that, Aelia, goddess of nature and for whom the elves great forest is named after, lived among her people. However, the gods usually need a strong focal point of power in order to manifest into the mortal world. The focal point for Aelia was the Sy Serine, the ancient temple that the elves built long ago for their goddess. But now, for the past 129 years, it has been sealed and power no longer flows through it, preventing Aelia from forming and rejoining her people.

Myrra's goddess, however, could no longer form in the mortal world, her focal point long since destroyed. Rayla had told her that it was once a great temple, a place of law and order where trials would be had and judgment would be served.

She was determined to rebuild her lady's temple one day and bring with it enough power to allow the person, or god in this case, who had given her purpose, to reform into the mortal world.

“I have to say," began the goddess, “Aelia is quite peeved with the actions of this Ethalcant family. With the two of us stuck in the Ether, I have to listen to her go on and on about how she had chosen the Iyrafiel family to be the caretakers of her temple for a reason. As well as how her Champion, Queen Evalon, is the greatest of all!"

Rayla lets out a long breath, sighing as her shoulder sag. “It gets quite tiresome after a while; I have found myself retreating here, to my garden, far more frequently."

Myrra's heart skipped a beat, eyes going wide when her goddess mentioned a reason for why the Iyrafiel family was chosen to be the caretakers of the Sy Serine. Even her aunt had no idea as to why the Iyrafiel family had been singled out to inherit the temple. The only person who knew had been her mother, but she had died while Myrra was still very young, leaving her in the care of her father who sadly knew nothing of the Sy Serine.

The excitement in her eyes must have given her away, because the goddess continued, “Forgive me, Myrra, but I cannot tell you what she has said, that information is for her to relay and her alone. By the year's end, when you inherit the Sy Serine and Aelia can reform once more, she will tell you everything, just be patient my dear."

Her lips fell into a slight pout, but she bowed her head nonetheless, “Yes, Milady."

“Good," smiled Rayla, “Now, onto the reason for why I summoned you here."

Myrra sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap, and waited patiently for her goddess to continue.

“I am aware of your mission to gather information on the King of Dexan, and this just so happens to coincide with a task I was about to give you."

“What would that task be, Milady?"

“I have been growing suspicious of Dexan as of late and I wish to test the scales in their territory. However, since I am unable to reform and am no longer at full strength, I must have you, my Symbol Bearer, go in my stead."

“Is that all? Both you and I would have gotten an accurate read as soon as I passed over their border, why summon me to tell me this when the task is a passive one?" Myrra's brow furrowed, her azure eyes looking at her patron curiously.

“Ah, and that finally brings us to the real reason you are here. You see… Should the scales tip to a side that I find…unfavorable," Rayla explained, placing her long, thin finger to the top of the skull on her scales and pressing down, making it fall while the heart rose. “I am going to need you to fix it and place the scales back into balance." She released the pressure she was putting on the skull, the scales wobbling for a moment before coming to rest at equal heights.

Myrra nodded, understanding what her goddess needed of her, “So, once we pass their borders and determine the balance of Dexan, should it be unfavorable, you wish for me to find the cause of this unbalance and… eliminate it."

“Yes," replied her patron, “I believe I already know in which direction the scales will tip, and who it is that is causing such injustice, but I must not be rash and make sure that what I sense is true."

“Who do you think it is, Milady?"

There was a pause in the conversation as Rayla thought. “I believe the cause of the disturbance I am feeling in Dexan is none other than the King himself."

“I see," Myrra said thoughtfully, “So, should the scales tip in an unfavorable direction, and it turns out the King is the reason behind it, you want me to…" she trailed off, looking at her patron with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes," she nodded in reply, “I want you to eliminate the King so long as my speculations are correct."

“Then you can count on me, Milady! I won't let you down!" Replied Myrra proudly.

“I know I can, my dear, I know I can. Now go, the sun is rising and you have much to deal with. May my light guide your way and justice influence your heart."

With that last farewell, Myrra's vision slowly began to fade and her body became weightless. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was the smiling face of her goddess and a pair of glowing white eyes full of pride.

***

“So not only are ya a spy but an assassin as well? Quite a step up from a diplomat, wouldn't ya say?" Chuckled Kaster as Myrra finished retelling her dream.

Myrra looked at her friend and raised an eyebrow, “This is not the first time I have killed someone to restore balance you know."

Kaster balked at that, whipping her head around to stare at Myrra in surprise, nearly falling off the box she was standing on in the process.

“Say wha' now!" she exclaimed.

“Is it really that surprising?" Myrra smirked, “I am, or was, the diplomat for the Elven nation, but I am the Champion to Rayla first and foremost. Perhaps you will recall that dwarven merchant we met from Helamor, or that noble in Farule, or perhaps that group of dark elves from the Under Wood?"

“Aye', I remember them," Kaster responded, eyeing Myrra suspiciously.

“The dwarf was a slave trader, while not illegal in most countries; it most certainly is in ours. He was trying to set up shop under our noses, something that neither I nor my goddess could allow."

“What about the noble and that group of dark elves?"

“The noble was leading raiding parties out into the mountains to try and exterminate the last remaining orc tribes. He had to go."

Kaster nodded in understanding. Both she and Kaster knew that most orcs were not the terrible monsters that raided and pillaged villages as so many people remember them being from 500 years ago. They were a nomadic people, quiet and solitary, usually sticking to mountainous terrain or open plains with plenty of rolling hills. They had grown scarce in the past few centuries, whether they were hiding away from the rest of the world or because their race was truly becoming extinct, she did not know.

“The dark elves were an isolated event from the rest of their kind. That single group was trying to summon, or rather create I suppose, a new god through sacrifice and other strange ritual mumbo jumbo. My lady sensed that they were disrupting the balance of the world and thus needed them dealt with."

“Suppose that makes sense," grunted Kaster, “Still, them dark elves give me the willies, bunch of freakish cults livin' in the dark and gnarled parts of the forest. It's just unnatural I'm tellin' ya!"

“I'll grant you the fact that they can be a little… strange at times, but just because they prefer the dark doesn't mean they are savages. They protect the forest from disease and do their best to stave off the decay. "

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, we'll reach the Dexan border tonight and be in Idota by the mornin'. Hope yer ready for sum sweet-talkin' and fleet-footin' princess, ya got a lot of work ahead of ya."

Myrra just hummed in response and shook her head, smiling at her friend's words. She turned about and took to the stairs down to the deck, Kaster's soft laughter trailing her as she went.

The half-elf was correct though, she certainly would have to do some sweet-talking come tomorrow if only to make sure she and her crew stayed alive long enough to complete her mission. Kaster's meaning of fleet-footing could mean many things, from her sneaking around where she shouldn't be, all the way to booking it out of Dexan as fast as possible.

Hopefully, this will all go as planned, what that plan is, however, she still didn't know. Perhaps she should head back to her room and actually start working on one of those, use some of the tips her aunt had given her.

“Hey, Captain!" called one of her crew, waving at her from where she sat around a small table with a couple of fellow sailors, “Come join me and the girls for a game of cards!"

Then again… She always did like making things up as she goes. What harm could a single game of cards do?

***

A lot. That is how much harm Myrra has concluded a single game of cards could do. It started off innocent enough, but soon the people she was playing with raised the stakes. The next thing she knew, all the shards she had on her person were gone, then Kaster had wandered over after giving control of the wheel to another of the crew.

Now with Kaster having gotten involved, Myrra found herself losing far more than just the shards in her pockets. Not one to take well to losing, Myrra had bet her captain's cap. Sadly, it was Kaster that had won that round and Myrra knew she wouldn't be seeing her favorite hat ever again. Good thing she had spares.

“I give up!" Myrra groaned in frustration, throwing her cards down on the small table the four elves had been playing at. One of the original girls who had been there up and left a good long while ago after losing quite spectacularly to Kaster. Myrra swears the little half-elf is cheating!

“Aw, so soon? Tired of losin' already?" grinned Kaster, “I'm sure ya will win the next one!"

“I'm terrible at cards, plus, I have nothing left to bet."

“Wha' 'bout yer coat?" Kaster teased, wiggling her fingers at Myrra as if to grab something, a sparkle of mischief and want in the elf's eyes.

Myrra's coat was one of her favorite articles of clothing—rich, brown leather that came down to her ankles, a few reddish dragon scales on the shoulders, a griffin feather lined collar, and an interior lined with the dark fur of a que'tah.

“You already cleared me out of all my shards, my earrings, my hat, and even my cuff links! There is no way I'm giving up my coat when I know full well I'm going to lose!" She huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at her friend indignantly.

“Fair 'nough," Kaster shrugs.

Standing from her seat and stretching, she let out a sigh as her back made a satisfying pop. She didn't have much work to do, just a letter that needed writing, so she decided to get that out of the way. The fewer things she had to worry about tomorrow the better.

She made her way below deck, traversing the corridors and dodging out the way of a few crewmates who were running to and fro as they hauled cargo from one end of the ship to the other. Along the ceiling and walls ran innumerable amounts of heavy, brass pipes, their bronze color allowing them to blend in quite well with the surrounding wood, the odd red valve, and pressure gauge sticking out here and there. She had no idea what any of the pipes led to or contained, but it wasn't her job to know, that was Kaster's and whoever else helped keep the ship running smoothly.

She passed an open doorway but paused when she heard the sound of clashing metal. Backtracking a few steps, she poked her head inside the room. In the center was a small, square arena outlined by red paint on the floor, two figures going at one another ferociously. Mounted all along the back wall was an assortment of weapons and armor, some of which appeared to be enchanted. Off to the left was a small firing range with a few targets—pistols, rifles, and bows hanging from wall mounts and readily available to anyone who wished to use them. To the right of the arena were a few practice dummies, most likely meant for hand-to-hand combat, as well as some other training equipment she had no idea how to use.

Finally turning her attention back to the two figures currently trying to rip each other a new one, she leaned up against the doorframe and watched. The shorter one wore relatively light armor of leather and mail, a belt cinched around her waist with several pouches and a single pistol resting in a holster. In her hands, she wielded an elven sword, long enough to use with one or both hands, the blade black as the night and slightly curved, the golden hilt contrasting yet complementing the work of art perfectly.

The other one was clad in a full suit of white and gold armor, signifying her status as a high-ranking member of the royal guard. She twirled a battle-worn halberd with practiced ease, batting away strike after strike and returning them just as fierce.

Their fighting had grown more intense, holding nothing back as they went at one another like they were actual enemies. It was a bit worrisome, both fighters barely blocking or dodging out of the way of strikes that should have been fatal.

The first figure was shorter than the second, though not by much, her fiery red hair pulled back in a ponytail and decorated with multiple gold rings, a few strands having gotten loose and now falling in her face. Her dark blue eyes glinted with a sharp focus, sweat beading on her forehead and running down her face as she panted.

She dodged out the way of a thrust from her opponent's weapon, taking the opening they had unknowingly created. She darted forward, clutching the curved elven blade with both hands, readying a thrust that would end the fight once and for all. She jabbed upwards with her sword, aiming for a gape in her opponent's armor, right near the throat. Then, just as she was about to land the killing blow, her opponent reacted with speed one would not have thought possible from someone dressed in full-plate.

The armored elf twirled at the last second, the end of her halberd coming up and knocking the shorter elf's blade away just before it landed. Following through with the spin, she used the momentum to retreat a few steps, landing with her feet wide, both hands gripping her weapon tightly as she pointed its spear-like tip at her opponent.

The two elves panted, the first drenched in sweat and the second no doubt the same if not more so due to her heavy armor. There was a pause in the fighting, the tension in the air high as the two fighters glared at one another.

No one moved, not a twitch of the hand nor the shifting of feet. For a moment, Myrra feared they might start back their brutal battle, that last strike from the redhead having come awfully close to ending the life of one of her crew. Finally, the tension eased, the two coming to an unspoken agreement that training was over because they both lowered their weapons and bowed.

“Bravo!" Myrra called, clapping politely and somewhat relieved as she approached two of the best warriors she knew. She could tell these types of bouts were probably going to become a regular thing between these two. One was almost a criminal, walking along a very thin tightrope between legal and illegal endeavors. The other was as pure and as lawful as a person could get, a bringer of law and order, a believer of justice, and a devout follower of the goddess of justice. Probably one of the reasons the elf had decided to join her now that she thinks about it.

“Captain!" The armor-clad elf yelped, snapping to attention and slapping her fist to her heart in a salute, her breastplate ringing like a bell as her gauntleted hand struck it with quite a bit of force.

“Myrra," the other elf nodded respectfully, crossing her arms and throwing Myrra a small smile.

“Tess, Venallia," Myrra replied with a nod to the two of them.

Tess, or as she was more commonly known among the populace, The Black Flame—on account of her fiery red hair and the pitch-black blade with which she used—was a mercenary through and through. Her red hair was dazzling, and in the correct lighting, could look like it was on fire. A nasty-looking scar ran down from her forehead and across her left eye, ending just below her cheek, several more minor scars decorating her features. One of the more notable things about her was that part of her right ear was missing, how it had happened, no one really knows, the story she told always changing.

Myrra had to pay a small fortune to get Tess on board, but it was well worth it in her opinion. For the right price, her loyalty could be bought, permanently in some cases. Tess prided herself on being a trustworthy contractor, and once contracted, she was loyal to a fault, practically on par with the royal guard.

That brought her to the second person here, Venallia Everloose, the previous captain of the royal guard. Venallia was supposed to have been retired, but retirement didn't suit the older elf, so when Myrra had approached Venallia with an offer to join her crew and see the world once more, the woman had jumped at the chance.

Venallia reached up and plucked the white and gold helmet from her head, shaking out her long mane of salt and pepper hair, letting it cascade down her neck and pool on her pauldron-clad shoulders. Her golden eyes locked with Myrra's azure blue, a joyful smile crinkling her lips. Venallia, while a tad over 700, still looked as young and as lively as any elf in their 300s, her aging hair color and a few smile wrinkles the only thing giving away her much older age.

“Good morning, Captain," Venallia greeted.

“Good morning, Venallia, you as well Tess," Myrra responded, “Care to explain why it seems like two of my best fighters were trying to kill each other?" She crossed her arms, looking at the two elves expectantly.

“It was just a friendly sparring match Myrra," Tess explained, wrapping her arm around Myrra's shoulder. “Had to make sure the extra muscle was good enough to keep my employer safe! Wouldn't want you being offed by some random mercenary out for the bounty on your head now, would we? How would I get my money then, hm?"

“I already paid you," Myrra deadpanned.

“Yeah~," Tess cooed, “But you're my favorite person to work for! Wouldn't want to lose such a lucrative employer as yourself!"

Myrra just rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face couldn't help but appear. There was a yelp of surprise as the elf beside her was suddenly wrenched away. Myrra jumped back in surprise, turning to look at what happened. She found Venallia holding Tess a good foot off the ground by the scruff of her leathers, the mercenary already screaming a stream of profanities and trying to swing at the person holding her up.

“And I am here to make sure this rouge is not out for said bounty on your head," Venallia growled, glaring at Tess.

“Let go of you me you old hag! I swear I'll fucking kill you! Just you wait! I'll put a bounty on your stupid head and then cash in on it just as fast!" Screeched Tess, thrashing around and managing to kick Venallia in her shin. The older elf didn't even react, but Tess yowled in pain after her foot made contact with Venallia's metal greaves.

“Vena, put Tess down," groaned Myrra pinching the bridge of her nose. “I've worked with her before, and I trust her not to stab me in the back."

“Yeah, that's right you walking bag of bones! I ain't ever betrayed an employer and if I did it wouldn't be Miss Princess here!"

“Fine, but one wrong step out of line and I'll personally throw you overboard," Venallia warned, “While we're in flight."

Venallia let go of Tess rather than setting her back on her feet, the red-headed elf falling onto her ass. Another stream of profanities that Myrra couldn't help but block out came flooding out of Tess' mouth. She eventually calmed down, rubbing her backside as she stood up, grumbling something about suffocating an old bat in her sleep. Myrra knew Tess wouldn't do anything, so she wasn't too concerned with the statements. Though perhaps she should still have a talk with her mercenary companion.

“Anyway, enough of that, what is this I hear about a bounty on my head?" Myrra asked, steering the conversation towards what she deemed a rather pressing matter. If Myrra had a bounty on her head, then this could complicate things far more than she would like.

Tess nods, her lips forming a thin line, “I first found out about it when I was in Helamor looking for work. A picture of you, right in the middle of the bounty board, drawing everyone's attention. As soon as I saw it, I borrowed a horse from a friend of mine and made an almost nonstop journey for Iysngrad to warn you."

“How is that possible? Bounties are strictly monitored, you have to go through a boatload of paperwork, and even then it could take weeks for the bounty to be approved and legalized."

A slight smirk came to Tess' lips, “I never said I was looking at the bounty board in the lodge, now did I?"

Myrra nodded in understanding, holding her chin as she thought. “So, it's an illegal bounty. Any idea who posted it? Any clues at all as to who might have put a price on my head?"

Tess opened her mouth to respond, her expression already telling Myrra that no, there wasn't. But then she stopped, a flicker of realization lighting up her eyes. She thought for a moment, then spoke.

“As you very well know, the name of contractors is never attached to the bounty slip. Whoever put the price out on your head wants you dead, not dead or alive, but dead, no other options. What is curious, however, is the reward."

“The reward?" Myrra asked baffled.

“The reward," Tess confirms, “Whoever wants you dead, wants you dead badly. Not only did the rewards offer enough shards for someone to retire in the lap of luxury, but it also offered a deed to an estate, magic items, slaves, a small private airship, and most concerning of all… the pardoning of all past crimes in the elven nation."

Myrra blinked, then blinked again. She didn't know how to respond to that, she didn't even know what to think about that. The list was extensive, full of things only someone of incredible wealth and power would be capable of. But the pardoning of all crimes committed against the elven nation? That… That was concerning. It meant whoever put out the bounty had to be an elf, one of high standing with the power to push for such a thing in the court. A noble family perhaps?

Then it hit her, the Ethalcants! Had they put out the bounty on her head? It made sense, they so desperately wanted control of the Sy Serine, and even if they had never stooped this low in the past, who is to say they haven't now? It rubbed her the wrong way though, while the Ethalcants might have been power-hungry, they had always done things by the book. It is because of their by-the-book attitude that they have never been able to get Myrra's inheritance revoked.

There was no one else that made sense though, the Ethalcants were the only people Myrra knew that had some sort of motive and reason for wanting her gone. With her death, a new line would have to be picked to inherit the Sy Serine, and the Ethlcants had enough power and support that they could quite easily sway the public to vote for them.

This news was deeply concerning, and just piled even more onto Myrra's figuratively overflowing plate. Now, not only did she have a kingdom to infiltrate, a king to possibly kill, a war to stop, and the duties of being the new priestess of the Sy Serine coming in the next several months, she also would now have to be dealing with mercenaries coming for her head.

Why was this happening! The whole reason she had wanted out of the court was to stop having to deal with things like this! Now that her wish had been granted, however, it seemed like even more court-like troubles were befalling her.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder. Looking at the metal-clad fingers giving her shoulder a soft squeeze, she traced the arm up to the person it was attached to, meeting the determined gaze of Venallia.

“Worry about this later, for now, focus on the immediate threat and the mission ahead of us. Clear your mind and center yourself, do not allow something we can not control to fog your judgment."

She took a deep breath and nodded. Venallia was right, no point stressing over something that is not an immediate problem. No one knew where they were except for the Queen, Avos, and Viessa. They were safe, relatively speaking, seeing as they would be in enemy territory by this time tomorrow. It was fine though; she would just focus on the here and now. Get into the castle of King Ortho Dexan, play the nice, refined diplomat role that is expected of her, snoop around a bit, find some useful information, then get the hell out.

Yes, everything would be fine. However, she still needed to let off some steam, to get the anger, worry, and stress out of her system.

“Come," she ordered, marching over to the arena with purpose in her step, motioning with a finger for the two elves behind her to follow. “I need to let off some steam."

Tess and Venallia looked at each other for a moment, both of them confused, before following Myrra back into the ring.

“Now then," Myrra began, standing on one side of the arena as the other two stood opposite her. She reached up and began tying her hair into a ponytail, getting it out of way for what was about to happen. “I believe the two of you will be able to hold your own against me, so, as long as you two aren't too tired, let's spar."

Tess burst into laughter, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she drew her sword. “Alright, I'm game, always wanted to find out how strong you were!"

Venallia, however, looked a bit hesitant. “Captain, are you sure about this? Two against one seems rather unfair, you would be at a great disadvantage."

“I'm sure you will find," Myrra smiled devilishly, “It is you who is at a disadvantage." Arcana started to course through her body, the tattoo on her chest, right above her bosom, starting to glow with white light. The feeling of power coalescing inside her was a welcomed one, the sensation familiar and warming. The glowing tattoo pulsed as she bent the arcana to her will, a solid shaft of light emerging from the symbol. She wrapped her fingers around it, pulling what appeared to be a length of rope from her chest. It was not, however, a rope that she now held in her hand, but rather a whip made of pure light and power.

It was not the same as forcing her arcana to take on a physical form, far from it in fact. It was just another ability granted to her by her goddess, the ability to use arcana to shape light, guide it, contain it, and use it as if it was a physical object. Rayla was the goddess of light and justice after all.

Venallia instantly steeled herself, redonning her helmet and readying her halberd. “I have always wondered what it would be like to fight a Symbol Bearer."

“Well then, come at me," Myrra said, motioning towards the two with a single finger.

And so, they did, Tess and Venallia charging towards Myrra with determination! It was the first time the rouge and ex-captain would fight side by side, and Myrra was quite confident it wouldn't be the last.

***

“By the seven hells…" Tess groaned, laying spread eagle on the ground, her chest heaving up and down as she panted for breath, sweat dripping off her body, her light armor feeling like it was the heaviest thing she had ever worn.

“Shit…" Venallia groaned in agreement, faring a bit better than the mercenary, though not by much. She used her halberd to struggle to her feet, lifting her no doubt tired and sore body up and off the ground.

“Well then…" Myrra smiled, her breathing just hard as the other two, though she remained standing. “I'd say that went pretty well. It has been a long time since I have gotten to fight anyone."

“Shut up," Tess grumbled, forearm covering her face, “I'll get you next time."

“I look forward to it… Now, I must excuse myself, I have a letter that needs writing and a shower that needs taking."

Venallia gave her a half-hearted salute, one hand braced on her knee to keep her steady as she recovered from the thrashing Myrra had given her and Tess. The mercenary simply threw up a hand in farewell, the appendage quickly falling limp and slapping back down to the floor.

She turned on her heel and left, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. It had felt wonderful to let off some steam through fighting, and even though she held back as to not harm her crew, it was still quite the stress reliever.

She made her way out the door and down the hall, heading for her cabin at the rear of the ship. As she went, she found the industrial parts slowly giving way to a homier environment. The walls, once covered in pipes, now held carvings and tapestries. Most depicted historical moments, but there was a handful that showed scenes of an elven huntress bounding through the forest or of a simple nature scene.

Her cabin was located far at the rear of the ship, providing a great deal of privacy that she valued quite highly.

Upon reaching the heavy wooden door of her cabin, she pushed it open and stepped in, shutting it behind her. The accommodations the captain received were quite nice, not overly fancy, but still better than the rest of the crew quarters.

On the right side of the room was a large bed built into the wall like some sort of cubby, a rail running across the top with a curtain hanging off it. Near that was a door leading to a bathroom, something she was going to make full use of quite soon.

In one corner of the room was a low table with a few chairs, all of them bolted to the floor. On the other side, right in front of a pair of porthole windows, was a large, dark, ornate wooden desk surrounded by tall bookshelves filled to the brim with her private collection. Behind the desk sat a high-backed chair lined with purple Varu fur, both the desk and chair bolted to the floor, the chair resting on a slider system that would allow her to adjust her position accordingly.

Next to the desk, in the corner of the room, was a stand topped with a large, gilded birdcage. Inside the cage rested a white and brown speckled barn owl, its heart shaped face ringed by toast-brown feathers.

The owl shook itself awake, pulling its head out from under its wing to peer at Myrra. It gave her a soft, joyful hoot, shaking out its feathers as it shifted its weight from one leg to the other, clearly happy to see her. She gazed at the owl fondly, giving it a small smile.

“Hello, Ira, you doing alright girl?" Myrra asked her owl as she made her way over to the desk. Ira responded with a low hoot of confirmation, her large brown eyes glittering with far more intelligence then one would think a bird could possess.

Myrra released the latch on her owl's cage, the door swinging open and allowing her pet to fly out and join her. She plopped down into the soft cushions of the undoubtedly expensive chair, Ira soon joining her with a few flaps of her wings, perching atop the backrest.

With a sigh, Myrra pulled open a drawer and took out a stack of parchment, a corked inkwell, and a quill made from one of Ira's feathers. She straightened out the parchment, uncorked the inkwell, and sat it in a little holder carved into the desk, dipped her quill into the ink, and began to write.

The sound of a quill scratching against parchment was a noise Myrra had always found quite enjoyable, it let her relax and think, drift off into space and just let her mind go blank. She was never a fan of writing formal letters or reports, preferring the blunt approach when it came to corresponding with someone. Sadly, even though she was no longer a lady of the court, she still had to keep up her noble duty of writing with at least some elegance.

The letter was for the Queen, relaying the dream from last night, the discussion she had with her goddess, and the bounty currently on her head, and just who it is she suspects is behind it. She knew that once her aunt received this letter, whatever plans she was currently making would have to be revised, possibly changed altogether.

It was no small thing killing a king, you can't just stab them and be done with it, even if she wishes she could do just that. There were other nobles, advisors, lords and ladies, even the civilian populace to deal with. She would have to evaluate the loyalty of those closest to the king, make a backup plan and implement fail-safes. She needed some way of guiding Dexan's government into a somewhat stable position after the death of their monarch. If she was to just kill him and leave, then there would be a huge amount of in-fighting and power struggles as people clambered to claim the throne, and in the end, it would be the everyday citizens who would suffer the greatest.

The position Myrra found herself in was a delicate one, and while she may have been rather intelligent, she was nowhere near smart enough to try and take down an entire kingdom on her own. She needed the wisdom only her aunt could provide, as well as the strength and moral compass only her goddess could give her.

She knew one thing for certain, however. That no matter what happened, she would not let the citizens of Dexan suffer because of the foolish decisions their king has made. It would be unjust, and Myrra simply would not stand for it.

After a while, the letter was complete, Myrra scanning it several times over to make sure everything was correct.

“What do you think, Ira? Good enough?" asked Myrra, holding the parchment up as she tilted her head back to gaze up at her owl. Ira leaned forward, eyes fixed on the parchment, and after a few seconds, she bobbed her head and hooted her approval.

“Glad you approve." Myrra smiled at her owl, reaching up and scratching Ira beneath her chin, the owl chittering as she pressed herself further into Myrra's affections.

Myrra opened a drawer next to her, pulling out a silver and green sheer ribbon. She rolled up the letter and tied the ribbon around the parchment, using an intricate knot that only the royal family knew how to do. To any outsider, it would look like a fancy bow, but to a royal of the elven nation, it was a sign that the letter came from another family member.

With the letter written and the knot tied, Myrra stood from her chair, holding out her arm. Ira hopped from the back of the chair to her master's arm, Myrra bring her over to one of the porthole windows. She unlatched the hooks keeping the window shut, opening it up and allowing the midday breeze to flow into the cabin.

“Ira, I need you to take this to my aunt, Evalon, can you do that?" Myrra asked.

Ira hooted her approval, her little chest puffing out as she stood up tall and proud on Myrra's arm. Myrra smiled and sat her on the windowsill, tying the letter to Ira's leg.

“Get this too her as fast as possible, understood? But don't put yourself in needless danger; I don't want to lose such an amazing friend." Myrra patted Ira's head, watching as the owl hooted one last time before turning towards the open window. She spread her wings as wide as she could and took off with nary a sound, plummeting through the air and out of sight.

Myrra leaned out the window to see where her owl had gone, only to pull back frantically as Ira shot up past her. She chuckled as she watched her owl and friend fly off back in the direction they had come, slowly disappearing into the horizion.

After watching her owl for a while, until she finally disappeared and grew too far away for Myrra to see, she closed the window and turned back around. Surveying her room, she debated on what to do for the rest of the day before she finally spotted the door leading into the bathroom. With her mind made up, she plucked a book from her collection and headed over.

The letter was the only thing she had to deal with; there was nothing more for her to do except to await their inevitable arrival into Dexan. Therefore, with the rest of the time she had, she was going to relax into a nice, hot bath with a ton of bubbles and a good book. Gods only know she needed some time to relax before diving headfirst into a pit full of vipers.