Bianca stood within the light pouring in from the ceiling within the small cottage in the woods. She was dressed, not in armor or Fae clothing, but in a simple tunic and breeches. A normal woman, in a normal house, deep in the forest of Elbafas.
"Bianca?" A voice called her name, a man's.
She turned to face him. Tall and handsome with long, black hair and sparkling green eyes, he looked like an older, male version of herself. He removed his glasses, and placed them in a small pocket in his robes. The man's kind eyes gazed upon her, and a warmth washed over Bianca as she walked towards him.
Then, the pair embraced, Bianca holding tight as if she never wanted to let go.
"I miss you," she said quietly, barely a whisper.
And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.
Bianca's eyes shot open as she left the realm of her dreams and was thrust back into her harsh reality. The prison cell of the Oaken Keep met her vision, the book on weapon smithing lying to the side from her time reading the night before.
"Bianca Miles," Ralof said as she rubbed her eyes and looked towards her now open cell. "It's time."
The morning of her trial had come.
Resigned to her fate, whatever may come, Bianca nodded and left the prison cell's bed. "I'm ready, Shield-Breaker. Take me where you will."
Ralof led Bianca out of the holding area, up the stairs, and towards the main gate of Oaken Keep. Soldiers were gathered, armed with spears and swords. They watched as the pair walked to the main gate of the palace, eyes fixed on the pair and hands grasping their weapons. As if she'd be stupid enough to run.
"Where you from, Miss?" Ralof asked.
Bianca scoffed. "Why do you care?"
"An Elbafans last thoughts should be of home," he said with assurance. Even he thought she was doomed to die today.
With a heavy sigh, Bianca lowered her head. "Dawn's Bridge. I'm from Dawn's Bridge in Spring's Respite. I lived there with my father, before he…" The words were caught in her throat, unable to make their way to her lips.
"Hey, not that it's my business, but was your father the Elf or the human?" He asked.
"Human." Not that it mattered.
"Sorry, just trying to make some form of conversation before the end."
Finally, they reached the massive doors, and they slowly opened to allow them entrance to the Oaken Keep. There was no going back. As she entered, she was greeted by the sight of massive, imposing banisters and tapestries that bore the symbol of Elbafas proudly. Green and gold littered the main hall, filled with people who had arrived to watch the trial. Humans of Elbafas on one side, and representatives of Elvehn on the other. It was a strange thing to see man and Elves not trying to kill each other, but this time they had a common interest.
"Murderer!" An Elf spat as she jeered.
"Mongrel demon!" A human shouted this time.
Various insults and hateful speech assaulted her as she walked down the path towards the back of the main hall. There stood High Queen Ysolda, dressed in fine robes and her silver circlet, awaiting Bianca to step forward to face judgement. Beside her stood an Elven man dressed in white robes and a laurel wreath around his head, with a striking resemblance to Verunil Osselus.
One of the humans made a run for her, only to be stopped by Lydia who leapt from the balcony above and held a blade to the man's throat.
"Enough! Bianca Miles is not to be harmed until her judgement is carried out!" Ralof bellowed.
However, the crowd wasn't listening.
"String her up in the streets!"
"Hang the bitch!"
"Off with her head!"
Finally, High Queen Ysolda slammed the handle of her enormous battleaxe to the floor, its metallic clang echoing throughout the Oaken Keep's hall. Silence fell upon the crowd, and Bianca walked towards the podium set at the end of her path just before the queen and the Praetor. The moment had come.
"Let the trial of Bianca Miles, daughter of Benjamin Miles, and adopted child of the Heartland Fae tribe, commence at once. By my right as High Queen, let us begin."
—
Bianca stood before High Queen Ysolda, the monarch of Elbafas sitting upon the Oaken Throne. A massive tree that grew against the farthest wall of the great hall, carved into the shape of an orante and grandiose throne that held a massive wyvern's skull within its branches. The skull, legends say, that High Queen Ymir brought with her from the summit of Segovax's Kiss on the day she was crowned ruler of the North.
"As High Queen of Elbafas, I now call this trial, and this court, to order. Accused, step forward," Ysolda said with utmost authority.
Bianca did as she was told, walking three steps towards the Oaken Throne and before her queen. "Yes, my queen."
"State thy name, please." Ysolda commanded.
"Bianca Miles, daughter of Benjamin Miles of Dawn's Bridge, and adopted child of Verathorn of the Heartland Fae, your majesty."
Ysolda leaned forward, bridging her hands and resting her chin upon them. "Bianca Miles, you are charged with the murder of Verunil Osselus, son of Praetor Verano Osselus of the city of Aldhicus of Elvehn, and a man crucial in the investigation of the whereabouts of the nephew of Queen N'fube of Forswaron, Prince Nazair al'Citadel. How do you plead?"
Bianca looked down at her shackles, placed upon her by Ralof Shield-Breaker upon her arrival to her trial, and paused for a moment. Then, she looked up, her eyes meeting the queen's. "I have nothing to hide, my queen. It is as you say."
The hall was silent, save for quiet whispers and murmurs. Ysolda leaned back in her throne and sighed. "You know, it's not much of a trial if you outright admit guilt."
"I am aware," Bianca said. There were at least eighty people standing within the great hall, and all but three of them wanted her dead by supper. Why not give them a true reason to hate her? "I am aware of the death I brought upon him. I am aware of the way I threw him from the manor window, and broke his back as I used him as a cushion for my own landing!"
The murmurs grew louder, and gasps filled the air as Bianca turned to the crowd of those who wished for her death with a wicked, defiant grin on her face. "I am aware of, after learning of the man's horrific deeds, how he and his men raped and brutalized my sister for hours, the way my fist pummeled the sorry, foul bastard until there was nothing left. I killed Verunil Osselus, the miserable shit stain, and I'll go to my death gladly knowing it!"
The crowd roared in frenzy.
"Silence! All of you, silence!" Ysolda bellowed, and the people calmed, albeit reluctantly. "These are bold words, Miss Miles. Bold and dangerous accusations against a man who no longer walks among us. What proof do you have of this?" Ysolda asked.
Was she serious? Right, of course she was. The rumors of Verunil's deeds were mainly hearsay and secondhand, as no one had outright come forth regarding his actions within his manor. Actually, until recently, no one had known of the manor's existence. In truth, it was Bianca's word against the court's.
And Bianca was losing.
Still, saying something was still better than obedient silence. "I have spent many years with the Heartland Fae, my queen. I am well aware of the horrors the Elves have inflicted on the Faeries away from prying eyes."
"And yet you still continued to do work for them?" A woman called from the crowd.
"Do continue. I would love to hear a history lesson from a brutish thug." An Elf this time. Now they were mocking her. Laughing and booing as Bianca's temper raged beneath her scowling face.
"I wish to say something." Verano, after a long silence, finally made his presence known. The crowd hushed.
Ysolda nodded towards the Elf at her right. "Verano Osselus, Praetor of the city of Aldhicus, you may speak."
Verano walked towards the accused, and his gaze met Bianca's. Eyes full of contempt and hate bored into her soul, and the Praetor spoke.
"Hear me, citizens of Elbafas, and representatives of Elvehn, and know my words well." He began. "My name is Verano Osselus. I have walked across this land of Gaol for nearly five-hundred years. In my time, I grew from a simple merchant to a Praetor, and by the Ancestors' Grace I was blessed with a son. A son who, ten years ago, stood by my side as I shook the hand of your High Queen, when she was a mere Jarl, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Lord Batiatus in an effort to establish an everlasting peace between our people.
A son who, three days ago, was brutally murdered on the same Elbafan soil I sought peace with. Now I am expected to believe the words of a mongrel dog, who already admits guilt to this crime, that my son was a monster deserving of such a fate? That he was somehow involved in the disappearance of the prince of Forswaron, and that he is guilty of heinous crimes. You have forgotten how much we have sacrificed for this peace, people of Elbafas, and forget the power we wield should such peace be disrupted."
Bianca lunged forward, stopped only by the blade of Ralof's sword and the chains binding her shackles. "You're accusing me of lying, and you're threatening this country?!"
Verano looked away. "I have no more to say to this dog."
"Your son was the dog! Not me!"
Verano swung his arm towards Bianca, and a burst of golden fire spilled forward and struck the ground. Bianca staggered back, and Ralof drew his bow and nocked an arrow before aiming it at the Elf. Lydia followed suit, drawing her dagger and waiting for the next move.
"Enough! There will be no violence in these halls!" Ysolda bellowed.
Verano sneered. "Violence. Like the violence inflicted upon the people at that manor? Servants and guards alike, butchered and left dead on the ground upon which they fell." He shook his head, and adjusted his robe to allow his arm back within its sleeve. "You and those Heartland Fae are animals, and I will see justice done this day. Ysolda, unless you wish to have me as an enemy, you will execute this woman at once."
The crowd roared in agreement, all but sealing Bianca's fate. Her death would mean at least some placation of the crowds, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe her death would bring an end to the fear of war.
Ysolda stood, looking over the crowd. "I have heard much, and now I am prepared to pass judgement upon the accused. Miss Bianca, you have made no effort to defend yourself, and have confessed to the murder. You could have easily said Verunil Osselus was killed in the attack, and none of us would have been the wiser. I will admit, your honesty is… unique. None of the members of Gaoling's Blade are present, nor are any of the Heartland Fae to give evidence to the contrary. So why not lie?"
Bianca shook her head and sighed. "I have nothing to gain from lying, your majesty, and everything to lose."
Kalara's words rang in her mind, about how she had betrayed the Faeries by taking jobs for the Elves and had kept it secret from them all. As little good as it did her now, Bianca vowed to keep no secrets. She was honest to a fault, as annoying as it was.
Ysolda nodded, and the crowd began to whisper and murmur once more. Finally, after a few moments, the High Queen spoke once more. "Bianca Miles, this court finds you guilty of the murder of Verunil Osselus. Do you contest this?"
Her eyes met Bianca's one more time. As if she were asking the girl to make some effort to defend herself. Instead, Bianca merely sighed and shook her head. "No, your majesty. I accept your decision."
"Very well. Allow me to deliberate with my advisors, and I will deliver your sentence. I ask that all of you clear the hall, save for the convicted, and patiently wait for what is to come. Ralof, Lydia, will you please stay with Miss Bianca?"
Ralof nodded as Lydia leapt from the balcony and landed beside her husband. "Of course, my liege." And with that, Ysolda departed from the great hall, and left Bianca to await her fate.
—
Bianca didn't know what she detested more: the knowledge she was likely going to be executed, or waiting for it. She sighed, sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and looking up at the ceiling. The green and gold banners bearing the Elbafan War-Bear, the symbol of the country, looked down on her with its beady, black eyes. She couldn't help wonder why a bear of all things. Why not a wolf, or even a dragon?
Of course, at this point she was merely thinking to break the silence in her mind.
"You reckon they'll hang me or cut my head off?" Bianca asked, lying back and resting her head on the floor.
Ralof chuckled, leaning against the podium that shackled Bianca. "I'm not sure. You want an effective execution, I'd say firing squad."
Bianca jerked upwards, eyebrow arched at the weird choice of words. "Firing what?"
"Oh, new thing her majesty has got with the Dwarves. They have these… things, like long cylinders made of steel, and they use fire magic to launch these heavy balls at their targets. Saw it hit someone in the head once. Took it right off and smashed it against the wall." Ralof explained. Lydia merely rolled her eyes.
"Lovely, at least it's quick." Bianca sighed as she laid back down. Then, she placed her hands behind her head and crossed her leg over her knee as if she were lying on the grass of the forest floor. "Hey, since you asked me a random question earlier I got one of my own: How does an Elbafan soldier marry a Skyclad?"
Bianca opened one eye to see Lydia standing with a shocked expression on her face, her mouth agape as she looked frantically over to her husband.
"You think I didn't know?" Bianca chuckled.
"How did–" Ralof stumbled over his own words.
Bianca rose up and sat upright, looking at the soldier. "I was raised by the Heartland Fae since I was five years old, Ralof. You think I didn't come into contact with some of the other tribes?"
While it was true that most Fae shared common customs and characteristics, Skyclad were one of the few tribes that held very unique ways to identify them. For one, Skyclad didn't speak, and Bianca hadn't heard a single word from Lydia since meeting her yesterday. Secondly, while she couldn't tell from the armor, Skyclad tattoos were more colorful. Specifically, they were intricate and usually blue or red with white accents instead of the black or brown of the usual variety of Fae.
Then, of course, there was another fact regarding Skyclad: They never wore clothes. For practical reasons, Lydia must likely be dressed to adhere to the standards of her job and the society in which she lives.
"Right then," Ralof said slowly. "You're definitely well educated for someone who… Actually, you know what? You're pretty damn smart, Miss Miles. Gods above, I wish I could say something during the after trial hearing."
Now that was something she wasn't expecting. "After trial what now?"
"Oh! That's right, we never told you. See, it's like this," Ralof began. "In the event that the convicted is found guilty, a hearing is held at the end to determine what sentence seems most fair. Something her majesty designed. It's like… Well, you wouldn't chop off someone like, say, a priest's head for one act of murder if the fool deserved it. Just a way to ensure fair and just sentencing."
"And why can't you say something?" Bianca asked.
Ralof shrugged. "Impartial decisions, I guess. Ysolda is a firm believer in democracy, even if it comes back to bite us in the arse most days."
Bianca rolled her eyes. "So, in other words, I'm still going to die." She remembered the response to her entering the main hall very well. Most, if not everyone, was clamoring for her death. May as well make it quick, she figured.
Ralof wanted to say something, but the doors opened to the main hall as the crowd poured in once more to take their places. Ysolda followed suit, arriving via the back left corridor alongside Elsa Fair-Hair, Praetor Verano, and another figure she didn't recognize. Brown skin and copper eyes, and dressed in fine golden and blue robes that hugged his chiseled body tightly, showing off his physique. His hair was long and braided into locks that fell down his back and over his shoulders. Likely this was the Al'Maran emissary she had heard about the day before.
"Bianca Miles, before your sentence is decided, do you have any words to say in your defense? Anything at all?" Ysolda asked, still standing and looking down at the accused.
Bianca turned her head, refusing to speak a single word. What was the point? What purpose would it serve?
"We will hear from the delegates here first. Elsa Fair-Hair, my most trusted advisor, you may speak," Ysolda said as she sat down upon her throne. Guess she was wasting no time.
Elsa cleared her throat and addressed the crowd. "When I first laid eyes on the Mongrel, Bianca Miles, my immediate thought was 'kill her and prevent a war.' At least, that's what I had intended to say. I had planned on it, right up until moments ago."
Bianca's eyes went wide. What was this woman saying?
"I am… unsure, given the circumstances. The accusations against Verunil Osselus were bold, and terrifying. Many of us who had lived through the Elvehn War know full well what Elves did to Faeries, and even many humans and Dwarves. None wish to admit to the knowledge for fear of offending our 'honored' guests, but I have no such niceties. Yet I am compelled to honesty, my queen. I would see Bianca Miles not executed, but serve the rest of her days in prison. Hard labor, if you see it fit."
The crowd booed the answer given by Elsa Fair-Hair. Right, execution was all they wanted.
"Very well. Thank you, Lady Fair-Hair. Praetor Verano, you may speak." Ysolda beckoned the next speaker.
Praetor Verano sneered. "I have nothing to say. My answer remains the same. End her life, or risk conflict with my people."
Bianca couldn't blame Verano for his anger. The man had lost his son, horrific a creature as he was. Still, the man's child nonetheless. She supposed it came down to the last man, the Al'Maran.
"Thank you, Praetor Verano Osselus. Now–"
"May I be so bold, High Queen?" A voice came from the crowd. Bianca turned to see a face she had not noticed before, and it surprised her to no end. An Elf, dressed in fine white robes and a laurel wreath around his golden hair and pointed ears. It was the commander of the battalion she had worked with days ago. Commander Octavius, the new commander of Fort Seneca, the same fort she had helped to conquer.
Ysolda rose up from her throne and looked towards the man. "It is unusual, but I will allow it."
What is he doing here?!
Octavius bowed quickly and stepped towards Bianca. "My name is Octavius Maximus Delius. I have had the, depending on who you ask, pleasure of working alongside the Mongrel, the dog who defies death, in recent memory. She is brash, arrogant, and a fighter worth the money it takes to hire her."
"Yes, we are aware of the bitch's mercenary work, Commander Octavius." Verano spat.
Octavius cleared his throat. "Yes, well, when I heard of the death of Verunil Osselus, and how it had occurred, I was shocked to say the least. Yet to know that the Mongrel faces execution for this misdeed would be a waste, wouldn't you say?"
"You have something to say regarding her sentence, Commander?" Ysolda asked.
"Of course! It seems that you are in possession of a weapon, but with no discipline to use it. I can aid in this." Octavius extended his hand towards Bianca and smiled. "My solution is a simple one, Mongrel. Put yourself under me. Serve in my army, for the Elvehn Republic, and I can offer you protection. At least from the law that wants you dead. What say you–"
"I'll hear none of this!" Verano shouted. "I have given my ultimatum. You will see this murderer executed, or face the wrath of House Osselus!"
The crowd erupted into a frenzy. Now there was no telling just what would happen. Offers were coming in from military officials who had joined the courtroom, while more and more people were demanding her death.
"Order! I will have order!" Ysolda cried, but none were listening. "I will have order, dammit!" She grabbed her battleaxe from the side of her throne and slammed its pommel against the floor. Still, no one responded to the High Queen's demands.
"Kill her, or we risk war!" One shouted.
"She's useful! Let us make her into a warrior for Elbafas!" Another cried.
"The Elves demand her death! You'll put us all in another conflict!"
"Let the Elves have her! Get her out of our hair!"
It was sheer madness. Bianca even considered making a break for the door, had it not been for her shackles. There was so much commotion that no one noticed the door to the main hall swinging open, and two men walking towards the crowd.
One was a human man, tall with golden hair tied behind his head and a devilish grin. He had a short beard and wild azure eyes, as well as a scar on the corner of his lip. Dressed in a fine doublet and breeches with a handaxe on his belt and black leather boots on his feet, he had the appearance of a nobleman of Elbafas.
The other man was a Dwarf, albeit with no beard. Copper-like skin and red hair, dressed in the same manner of clothes as the Elbafan, and holding a long, steel cylinder over his shoulders, he walked beside the man before aiming the cylinder towards the ceiling.
*Bang! Bang!*
It was akin to the sound of thunder as bits of wooden debris fell from the ceiling to the ground. The shouting of the crowd turned to collective gasps of fear as the human man snapped his fingers, letting the doors slam shut behind him.
"High Queen Ysolda! Looking lovely today as always!" The man spoke with vigor and confidence as he strode towards Bianca and the crowd who now looked at the pair of men with equal parts disdain and shock. "That dress looks beautiful on you, my most excellent liege. Of course, it would look much better on my bedroom floor, eh?" He winked as he stopped just beside Bianca.
The Dwarf chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Great way to address your queen, man." He rested the metal cylinder across his shoulders.
Who the hell are these people?!
Ysolda sat down in her throne and covered her eyes with her hand, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Erikur, what the devil are you doing here?"
"Do you want the long version, or the short version? Ah, I'll just give you the short version: Bree's orders."
"Excuse me? Who are these outlandish cretins who dare interrupt–"
*Bang!*
Another thundering sound, and as Bianca's eyes raced to the source she saw the Dwarf holding the cylinder in the direction of Praetor Verano, blood trailing from his ear and the laurel wreath lying on the floor.
Verano gasped in terror, his eyes wide open and mouth agape as he clutched the tip of his left ear and sank to the floor.
"Let out a single fuckin' scream and I won't miss the second one," the Dwarf growled.
"Ikaros, what is the meaning of this?!" Ysolda shouted as the Dwarf smirked.
Erikur, reaching over Bianca's shoulder and pulling her close, grinned as he pressed his face against hers. "Gimme five minutes, kid. Think I got a way to get you out of this shit."
***
In Elbafan society, surnames are often earned by deeds performed by noteworthy individuals, which then have the potential to become family names passed down through generations. Ymir Light-Bearer, Halfgar Storm-Breaker, Yamal Stone-Builder, and many more have been passed down throughout the ages. The name of "War-Bear" was recently coined by many scholars who have witnessed many of Ysolda's feats that earned her her spot on the Oaken Throne.
Her most famous: the siege of Imanal. According to most sources, when Summer's Gleam was still occupied by Forswaron, Ysolda whittled away the roaming hordes by posing as a farm girl living alone. Soldiers passing through would stop at the farmhouse expecting to have their way with a lone woman, only to be cut down by archers lying in ambush. Then, many of her soldiers donned the Al'Maran armor and disguised themselves until nightfall when they would shed their ruse and slaughter the enemy while they slept.
Within days, the occupation of Imanal was broken, returning it to Elbafan sovereignty, and the legend of War-Bear was born.
-from the desk of Lambur Stonetooth of the College of Autumn's Gate