"Below the crags of Summer's Gleam, where snow and sand consummate their union of blood, a battle once raged.
Elves and Al'Marans, garbed in gold and steel, sought the enslavement of our kin. Of Dwarf, Orc, Fae, and Elbafan alike.
Their King, mighty in magic, slew our own, leaving his body a charred husk upon the dirt in shame. Our defeat nigh.
But lo she stood, the War-Bear, against their ashen-skin king, and gave no ground.
She charged, bearing the flame of a thousand suns, and wrested the battle from her foe.
With her axe, she did cleave their king's head from his shoulders. A mighty howl of rage.
They fled from us. Our chains broken. Our sons and daughters free.
Then I saw her. Standing in the evening sun. A woman born of nothing who gave my kin everything, and I thought of her:
This is one I would follow.
This is one I would call queen."
-The story of Ysolda War-Bear, from the Elbafan Poetic Edda.
***
Dawn broke the next morning, the light spilling into the small inn room where Bianca had stayed the night. It was nothing fancy, a simple bed of hide and feathers, cotton sheets, situated in a small space. Bianca rose from her slumber, stretching and grabbing her boots from the night table beside her. She dressed quickly, putting on the gray tunic and breeches that Ralof Shield-Piercer had given her the night before as a farewell present. Grabbing the small bracelet Sha'ani had given her, she made her way out of the room and down the stairs to the innkeeper's desk.
"Thank you for letting me stay the night here," Bianca said gratefully.
The innkeeper, a blonde Elbafan woman in her mid-thirties, merely sneered as she continued reading. "The High Queen's decree is the only reason you got to stay here, Mongrel. Sooner see you on the street. Now get out of my inn."
Nothing she wasn't used to. Warm receptions and kindness were often out of Bianca's reach on the best of days. She didn't give the woman a second thought, and walked out onto the busy streets of Autumn's Gate. Men and women passed her by, not even granting her a glance as they went about their day to day lives.
"Let's see, the guild hall should be around here somewhere," Bianca said as she made a left and began walking down the street. Due to how late it had been once she'd been released from Oaken Keep, Bianca didn't bother with the guild last night, and had instead opted for a night at a local inn. Ralof had been with her, making up a story that she was entitled to a free night at any place of her choosing. Shield-Piercer really did seem to be her only friend in this city.
The buildings blurred together, taverns, bakeries, houses, banks, all in an endless stream of architecture. That is, until she reached a metal fence surrounding a small garden and cobblestone walkway. Cyprus trees stood in a small row on each side of the stones, and the metal gate leading to it was left wide open. Bianca walked to the walkway, and spied a small plaque displayed at the entrance.
"Guild Hall of Gaoling's Blade. Those on official business are asked to seek Rami for job inquiries. All other business is to be handled by the acting guild master, Brialla Nivenor."
Bianca swallowed hard. This was the place. The start of her quest, the rescue of Prince Nazair al'Citadel, began the moment she stepped outside of the Oaken Keep. Now, she would begin in earnest, and earn her freedom.
She walked the stone path to the entrance, a large double door painted green. On the outside, it looked like an extra large tavern, nothing too special about it. Yet inside was something else entirely. Long tables on either side of the hall, green banners hung from the rafters as the cold Elbafan wind blew through windows above, and a large board filled with requests of the guild stood proudly at the end. Bianca meandered towards it. What was the harm in a little look?
"Huh, werewolf sighted near a small village in Spring's Respite. A wyvern was sighted on the road to Stonetooth Village. Oh, here's a good one, a troll kidnapped a goat. Seriously?" It was the same requests she was used to receiving in the local taverns. Strange how this guild carried so much weight despite being so plain in their work. Still, it wasn't anything she really cared for. None of the jobs pointed her in the direction of Nazair.
Instead, she opted for a little exploration. No one was home that she knew of, so what was the trouble? She walked through a door to the left of the board and came to a small kitchen. Ovens, ranges, and various cookware hung on racks that lined the walls of the room. In the center, a small tray filled with sweet rolls. Freshly glazed, too. Bianca sauntered to the tray of sweets and prepared to take one.
"So you're the one!" A voice startled Bianca and forced her hand back.
She stammered. "Oh, I thought they were–"
Bianca turned to the source of the voice, only to see a young girl standing in the doorway. Roughly fifteen, if she had to guess, and wearing a green tunic and brown shorts with a rather festive-looking hat over her pitch-black hair. A bard, maybe?
"Old Jardur was sayin' we had a new face coming to the guild. They're sayin' ya picked a fight with that emissary what came from Forswaron, yeah? Good on ya! Hate those self-righteous pricks, thinkin' they're so prim and proper. Oh, where are me manners? Hildegard Meadowlark, aspiring bard and second newest addition to this cozy little family."
Hildegard's introduction is long, but amusing all the same. No real threat, Bianca thought as she took a roll from the tray.
She took a bite. "Bianca Miles. Apparently the newest member. Good to meet you." Bianca's mouth was full, but the look on Hildegard's face told her she understood.
"Oh, ya must have so many stories. Is it true ya beat that Elf's face to mush? Woulda loved to see that, Miss Bianca. Just like the fabled Astea of the Old Days, a force to truly be reckoned with, eh?"
Bianca backed out of the kitchen, roll still in hand. "I suppose." She really didn't feel like remembering Verunil. Too many things to make her angry.
"Ah, silly me! I've got kitchen duty today. Bree's got me making treats for the boys up at Oaken Keep. Somethin' about a birthday? Ah, I don't really know. Well, it was great meetin' ya, Miss Bianca! Take care!" As quickly as she came, Hildegard was out of there in a flash with the tray of rolls in hand. She bounded out of the kitchen, through the hall, and out of the front door to Oaken Keep. Quite a strange one, Bianca thought as she chuckled.
One hall down, one to go. Bianca didn't bother with the upstairs area, considering most taverns used those for sleeping quarters. Last thing she needed was, in the event someone else was here, to walk in on them sleeping or doing something else in bed. Bianca re-entered the main hall and walked into the doorway on the right. The hall was long, but nothing interesting stood out. A few barrels, some discarded tools, and a door leading to the outside.
She made her way through and out into a lush, beautiful garden. Rows of shrubs lined an outer courtyard, with various flower beds planted around statues. The ground was soft, the grass nice and healthy as she was nearly tempted to kick off her boots and feel it between her toes. Yet one thing caught her eye: weapon racks.
"They use this place for training?" Bianca muttered to herself as she walked around a statue of a man standing upright and looking up. His visage seemed oddly familiar, as if she'd seen him a thousand times before. Yet she couldn't place it. The statue was beautiful, though. Expertly carved marble with all features of the man's robes and face showing proudly. Like something out of an Elvehn museum.
As she rounded the statue, she came across a man on his knees with a large, double-sided axe lying in front of him. His eyes were closed, his short-cropped red hair and clean shaven face well defined. His body rippled with muscle, a black, sleeveless tunic and black trousers and boots adorning him. He must have been in his thirties, maybe late twenties. Who could say?
Bianca walked past him, trying not to disturb the quiet man from whatever he was doing.
"What lies beneath your feet?" The man spoke.
Bianca turned to face him, seeing that his eyes were now open and staring right at her. They were a deep green, as green as the tallest tree in the Heartland Fae village.
Still, he probably expected an answer. "Grass?" Bianca responded.
He shook his head, rising to his feet and grabbing the axe before laying it across his shoulders. "Sacred ground, whelp. Holy. Watered by sweat, tears, and blood."
She chuckled. "Well, it looks like grass to me, so…" she trailed off, making her way to the door.
"I would imagine it would," the man started. "To one who lacks honor, whelp."
"Excuse me?" Bianca asked, stopping in her tracks.
"You heard me correctly, whelp." Bianca turned to see the man smiling.
"You know that's not my name," she said through gritted teeth.
The man smirked, walking to a weapon rack and pulling a sword off of the first row before laying his axe to rest with the rest of them. Before Bianca could say another word, he tossed the sword to her feet. "Pick it up," he said with a wicked smile.
She bent down, grabbing the broadsword and taking notice of the man's empty hands. "You're unarmed."
He arched an eyebrow. "For your sake, be glad that I am." The large man clapped his hands and held up his arms in a fighting stance. "Come, whelp."
"Fine," Bianca laughed. "But don't blame me if you lose a limb!" Bianca charged forward, no hesitation, and swung the sword at the man's left arm. A clean hit, not even an ounce of defense, and his arm would fall to the ground. At least, that's what would happen with a normal man. Yet when the sword bounced off of his bicep and sent Bianca careening back into the nearest flowerpot, it became obvious this was no ordinary man.
He chuckled, walking towards his now disheveled opponent with arms wide open. "Allow me to introduce myself, whelp." He stomped his left foot on the ground, a torrent of fire billowing from the soles of his boot. The flame wrapped around his arm like a gauntlet, glowing with a searing orange flame as the light illuminated his handsome face. "Brecca the Beast."
***
"Elbafas has been the center of many legends, but none are so infamous as the tale of Ulfric Snow-Crown. A werewolf hailing from the dead island, Valdosta, he lusted for power with a hunger that has not been seen before or since. When his people founded the Hold of Winter's Grip, he seized the Jarlship and created an era of madness and fear for the citizens of Northern Elbafas. With an army of slaves at his back, he made a bid for the position of High King, only to be stopped by the woman known as Astrid Wyvern's-Bane. The rest of the legend remains lost to time, but it is believed that Astrid abdicated the Oaken Throne to her Thane mere hours after obtaining it. The reason remains unclear, but some theorize it could be due to her desire to follow in "another's footsteps" to live a peaceful life away from war and strife. Who this other party is, however, remains unknown to this day."
-Elsa Far-Hair, Keeper of History in the Court of Autumn's Gate