Taakeira

---

Her dreams were a simple affair. Certainly not dancing sugarplums-- the act of riding a full day on a cart pulled by a horse saw to that. Yet, they weren't nightmares either. They were pleasant enough, more akin to a waking dream. Not completely awake, but not enveloped fully in slumber either. Neither here nor there. Her mind was awake enough and her imagination just vivid enough to create the vista's she believed she would see. Gentle rolling hills, sky-scraping mountains, fields of crops, plains of wildflowers, snow strewn rocks-- she'd been more excited about this trip that she initially let on.

Despite all of her enthusiasm for this journey through the lands she was still human, and a small one at that. The whole day before had been devoted to traveling, and it was already beginning to sink it's claws into her mind and body. She was tired, and her posterior was more sore than she'd ever let on-- though a quick glance at her could reveal hints. Lissa couldn't sit still after a while, and she slept on her belly as opposed to her back, using her arm for a pillow.

It was a good character building journey, she'd tell herself. She wouldn't be a fragile queen who could only sit on her throne. She'd be a woman of the people, and though higher-born, she'd be just as tough as they were-- at least that was the hope and plan. In practice, being "one of the people" was a lot rougher on the rear than she first believed. When she closed her eyes, she was out like a gentle breath on a candlelight. She could still feel the bumps and jars in the road even in her dreams.

One of these dream-thoughts were of Ley-- the next village they were to be passing through, Cadbury had told her. A town that farmed and raised livestock to survive, what he told her. A simple village and nothing more, they were lucky if they had an inn. So of course this particular dream-thought had upright cornstalks for as far as the eye could see, all the way to the horizon. Animals were everywhere too, the clucks of chickens, the bleats of sheep, and bellowing of cows could all be heard within her dream scape.

The one thing she did not expect though was a aged voiced, edged with wisdom. What would Cadbury's voice be doing in her dreams? It was at that point that Melissa exited her dream-thoughts and into her thoughts proper. She found herself seeing with eyes she didn't remember opening the twilight of early morning. It took her a couple of moments to register everything, and to further decode Cadbury's words before they were finally digested.

"So we get to see the sunrise. Marvelous," she stated. In any other mouth, the statement might have felt sarcastic, but in Melissa's it felt like the honest truth. And though she would have rather had a couple of hours more of sleep or whatever it was she was doing moments ago-- seeing a sunrise somewhere else besides her castle window was an opportunity she wouldn't waste.

Yawn issued forth from the girl's learned maw as she stretched and popped her bones. With little effort she rolled herself off of her belly and on her back, wincing a bit when her sore rear met uncompromising wood again. There she rested until she regained enough energy to stand, at which point she took a seat beside her guardian to get a better look of the place. A woman of the people shouldn't just sit in the back of a cart as life was happening outside.

"Ah yes. The part. I'm no actor, but I shall give it my best... Er-- What were our names again?" She questioned, a crimson eyebrow turning quizzically.

---

"Ichabod Devonshire?" She asked. A corner of her mouth turned up as she couldn't help but grin at such a name. It certainly was, as he had put it, hoity-toity, but she left any further comment on the name lodged within her throat. Instead, she opted to address Cadbury's rather... Enthusiastic approach to the act. "Dear Cadbury, you're loving this aren't you? I had no idea that I also had an actor in my guardian!" she said with the sweetest smile she could muster. Again, there was no sarcasm in her voice, and she seemed to genuinely share in his enjoyment of the part.

Then she was quite, a forefinger pressed to her lips, red brows furrowed, and blue eyes peering upward deep in thought. Not everyday that she could pick another name for herself. Not to be mistaken, she loved her own name. Melissa was pretty and rolled off the tongue, and Bellhouse was a strong name, denoting her as heir to the Thanian throne. Still, a new slate was exciting! Lissa's head tilted to the side, throwing the cascade of red curls in that direction before her eyes widened and she snapped.

"Elisia Hartford, named so after my mother, Elise Hartford, and after her mother, Elsie. My great grandmother was named Agatha, but we don't talk about her. I am the heir to the Hartford Trading Company, a steadily rising company stationed in Akhar's capital, who deal with goods of all kinds and quantities. Though everyone just calls me Lisa," She said in a tone reminiscent of Cadbury's prim-and-proper comment. However, once she fancy introductions were done, she devolved into a giggling mess. It took a couple of moments for her to regain herself. She placed her hand to her chest and took a breath, donning the air she had about her before her fit.

"Oh my. This is fun. I didn't expect to play actor on this trip," she said, smiling a bright smile. Though a commotion brought her eyes back to the forefront. The whispered discussion grew louder as the cart began to approach a gathering of some kind. There was a guardsman, two farmers, and a woman, all discussing something. As to what that something was, she had no idea. One of the farmers was flailing about, pointing at the other. Whatever they were discussing, it sounded excited and hurried. Perhaps too exciting. Yes, she wanted to watch the people. It was the point of this entire venture, but she was not so blinded as to throw herself into the middle of a crowd if it could be helped.

Once again, Lissa found her head tilting on it's own accord, this time due to curiosity rather than thought. "Hmm, I wonder what they're discussing," Lissa posed. However, she was just some simple merchant's child, and certainly not a Princess. Perhaps it would be prudent to not stick her nose where it does not belong. However, if Cadbury wanted to introduce themselves, she would not be opposed...

"Well Mister Ichabod, what shall we do?" She asked.

Jacia listened to the boy recount his tale, that he had not seen a rift, that he had come through the cornfield towards the village. It was hardly a likely story. Firstly, given the timing of the rift's appearance, there was no way he could have missed it. Even to non-mages, the a rift in full swing was clearly visible. Secondly, who walks through a cornfield to get to the village when there are at least three perfectly acceptable roads leading into said village? Her questions were put to rest when he asked if she thought he was the cause of the rift.

She squeaked when he said it, and almost wanted to berate him for his oblivious conclusion. If he had come from the direction of the rift yet had not seen it, then circumstance indicated he was not the source of the rift, but the product, and if he were the product...

The conversation escalated quickly from there. The farmer pointed at the alleged product of the rift and half-shouted, half-vomited, "It's him! A rift appeared in my family's cornfield, and he fell out of it! He was naked but for his shield, so I left him some clothes. And, and I just left him. I didn't know what to do, it's not every day a naked man falls out of the sky into your cornfield! For all I know he eats people!"

The boy's ability to quickly get to the point rivaled even Jacia's. She was impressed. However, upon realizing that the alleged rift product was now the confirmed rift product, she grew concerned. If it wasn't for the guard stepping between her and the rift product so quickly and so fluidly that Jacia couldn't help but admire him, she would have shocked the product to unconsciousness.

Then the guard addressed her, and she squeaked again at the recognition.

"Mage... Zash, was it? I-I don't think I've heard of a person falling from a Rift before. How common is this?" She responded instantly, as if expecting the question.

"Very uncommon. As of right now, the odds are one out of however many rifts have thus far appeared, which is a lot. Can I ask why you have not yet bound it? The farm boy's concerns about him eating us are also mine. In my experience, most things that come from the rifts eat people." She leaned around the guard to better view the product. It looked harmless, like a normal, young adult human. Then again, the Piofera plant looked exactly like a marionberry plant, but if you so much as brush against it the berries explode in a shower of acid. That was when it struck her: this rift product was a scientific first! It needed a name, a proper name, and she was the discoverer, so naturally she would get to name it.

All manner of names popped into her head: The Zashite, the Zashian, Subject Z, etc. Hell, she might even decide to be generous and give the town some credit. They could call it the Ley-Zash incident, or rather the Zash-Ley incident. That one rolled off the tongue so much better. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet in excitement.

She popped back into reality, catching the end of the guard's response.

"Yes, let's do that." She interjected before anyone else could respond. "Although I should express my doubts that the clergy could offer any help with his amnesia. They can't even do anything about my forgetfulness, and mine isn't even a magical matter." She started off towards where she remembered the abbey being when she had entered town the previous day, expecting the others to follow, but then stopped, made an about face, and returned to the group. "I'm so sorry!" She pined, almost too close to the guard for any normal person's comfort, "But I forgot to ask you for your names? How rude of me!"

Brandon Cole was the first member of the guard Phile had came across, standing near the eastern entrance of town square stationed between the tailor's shop and Mrs. Smith's general store. He was an older member of the guard as well as the largest; prolong peace in the Akhar countryside wore away at his wits and at every evening tea Mr. Cole was prone to over indulging in honey cakes. His weight has been detrimental to his health, never mind his ability to preform his duties as a guard. Hardly able to touch his toes Mr. Cole came in only last week to have Phile heal a gash caused by his careless handling of a sword.

"Morn'in Miss Mor'imer. 'Tis early fo' such a lady 't be up!"

This was not the man Phile had hoped to see. Familiar with all of Ley's guards she had hoped to stumble across Iridian who, if she recalled correctly, went for a morning run at the break of dawn everyday without fail. Such dedication to his duty was admirable, zealous as he may be, such a contrast to the half-dozen other guards. A city man, the village girls swooned, who was chivalrous to every lady he met. Or, at least that's what they told her, Phile herself only acquainted with the idea of Iridian, but his many admirers were regular visitors to the abbey.

Phile squared her shoulders, speaking quickly without missing a stride. "Mr Cole ready yourself and alert all residents, a rift has open near Silverwood's farms. Miss Ingram came flying into the abbey to alert me and it is my intention to minimize damages." Beside her Mr Cole waddled to keep up with the priestess.

"Now wait ta' min't Miss Mor'imer, I ain't seein' nor hearin' a rift any where here," Cole sputtered out in surprise; evidently the thought that Ley could be the location of a rift hadn't crossed the man's mind, "Hol' on a min't Miss." He slapped down a fat hand onto Phile's slim shoulders; she nearly fell.

"Mr Cole we have no time-"

"Jus' take a good lis'en Miss and lis'en close." Brandon Cole gave her the most piercing of looks, his thick brow scrunched in concentration, framing his beady brown eyes. She listened. Dawn was passing, the silence which hung over the early morn was lifting as the farmers, bakers, tailors, and mothers rose to tend to their responsibilities. Phile heard robins songs and whispering trees carried on the wings of the wind, like a symphony who's melody could be so easily missed in the bustle of life.

"All is peaceful,"Phile said slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "There is no sound except that of a new-day stiring. All is peaceful. " The hefty guard nodded, removing his hand from her shoulder placing it instead on the waist band of his pants.

"Yes Miss Mor'imor," Brandon's eyes hadn't left Phile, the older man regarding the young priestess with a cool Phile envied. He neither seemed boastful or excited in his ability to perceive what she had not. "No rift Miss, but had there were, I'd been there ta handle it before ya had ta chance ta risk ya self."

Phile nodded, "Thank you Mr. Cole, that's very," she struggled to find the word, "considerate of you. Even so, I will go investigate the claim and make sure all is well. Good day Mr Cole."

The guard waved at her retreating figure. Phile was perhaps to quick to judge the man based on habits and appearances. Had she encountered the young Iridian she doubted that their encounter would be resolved as quickly. In fact, it may have caused more trouble then an empty rift would've.

She rounded a corner and before her lay Silverwood farms, but a ten minute walk. Indeed there was no rift, no horrid monster, no black magic spewing forth from who-knows-where but instead it looked as if a small gathering of people huddled around the edge of the farm's cornfield. Interesting, something must have happened, but what?

So resolute was her focus (now that the initial danger of rift monsters seemed null) she didn't notice the man and accompanying girl approach.

"Excuse me, fair Clergy Maiden, Phile jumped and squeaked with a start; she struggled to calm her heart as the man continued," but might you know what all of the commotion is about? We are a merchant caravan, and we are expecting to meet with some of the towns guardsmen and entrepreneurs."

Phile folded her hands in front of her, composed once again, "I apologize, I did not expected to be regarded so early in the morning." She glanced over the travelers, curiously examining the two but cautious to be polite and welcoming. The young girl had the most fiery hair Phile has ever seen, only matched by the fire of youth that shone behind the girl's eyes. Must be an apprentice of sorts Phile thought, with the man her guardian or master.

"I cannot say what the gathering is for, I was sent to see for myself," Phile purposely omitted news of a rift and continued, "If you're looking the town guard, allow me direct you east into the village. A man by the name of Brandon Cole should be able to help you connect with the people you seek."

There was something odd about their story. Ley was a small village and a great distance away from any of the major cities. If the goal of this excursion was to teach the nuts and bolts of mercantilism would it not make greater sense if the man took his apprentice to a town? Perhaps this warrants more investigation then the supposed rift.

"However, if you are weary, allow me to lead you to the abbey. We welcome all and will be serving breakfast soon. My name is Phile Mortimer, I am the priestess of this village." She offered a smile but decided to prod a bit, "It's rare that we get any visitors seeking to do business. Usually travelers come for a drink before leaving to parts unknown. Excuse my forwardness, but please what stories do you bring?"

Phile ushered the two up the path she had come, giving one last glance towards the cornfield gathering; that investigation could wait.

---

"If my fair mentor here has no objections, I don't see any harm in taking breakfast at your abbey," Lissa answered. This way she was able to observe how the clergy of this village began and set about their day. It was the real reason she was out in the world, after all. To immerse herself in the local customs and get a feel for people and not just those behind the stone walls of her castle. This was not part of their act, this was her reason. So obviously she jumped at the chance. Not to mention the possibility of warm food was casually thrown about. Breakfast sounded nice, after their hard day of traveling.

"Greetings and good morning Miss Mortimer," she greeted the priestess, lips smiling at the added alliteration. "My name is Elisia, and this gentleman here is Ichabod, as he says, we are merchants," she added with a soft smile. Though she may had been young, still a child in her teens, some gracious deity had saw fit to gift her with a silver tongue. She spoke with the diction of someone older, someone intelligent beyond her years. Maybe it made up for the fact that her arms were spindly things.

As the cart followed behind the priestess, the woman saw to pry a bit into their history. Melissa responded with a light chuckle and agreement. "I asked my mentor here why as well. He saw fit to teach me his craft not behind a desk, but on the road," she said shaking her head. "I am the daughter of a merchant, you see. My father hopes to see me follow in his footsteps one day, and in order to do that, I must learn what being a merchant really means. The Merchant Guild frowns upon family teaching it's trade within itself-- something about attempts to create a dynasty... I'll be quite honest, I do not understand it fully myself, though it's not in my position to question. Fortunately, Mister Ichabod here is a close family friend and offered to take the reins of my apprenticeship. Of course, the last thing I expected was to be on a cart bound to your little hamlet the very next day. Personally, I believe he did this on purpose. Throwing me right into the water, if you will." She added the last bit behind the transparent screen of her hand, as if trying to block the view of her conversation from Cadbury.

The lengthy explanation just rolled off of her tongue like water from a grail. She found weaving this story to be quite the fun endeavor, seeing how she got to expound upon Cadbury's skeletal frame. She was still a child, and a child's imagination was a marvelous thing. Particularly, Melissa found herself enjoying playing make believe. "Though, I will admit, the first thing I've learned is that this cart is in some dire need of cushions. I think that if I ever get out of this seat, I won't be able to sit back down for quite a while!" she said with a mirthful laugh.

"If I may, Miss Mortimer, may I inquire about your duties as the priestess? I find myself curious-- and perhaps to extend our pleasant conversation. I've had no one but Mister Ichabod to speak to for a day, and while you could not want for a nicer gentleman, I find myself in need of a fresh voice," She said, doing that little head tilt thing she does. It gave her the appearance of a curious little kitten.

"Get up, Sir Rowe. I don't think binding you would be...prudent."

Flynn smiled as the dutiful guard helped him back onto his feet. He lifted his shield onto his left arm, leaving his right arm for Sir Guardsman to keep ahold of. He kept a firm, yet nonthreatening grip upon it, briskly leading him throughout the village. He did his utmost to avoid the quizzical gazes of the townfolk, though his eyes could not escape that of a choice few.

He grew more and more uneasy by his other two escorts, the mage Jacia and the farmer Kai. Young Silverwood's tongue seemed to move faster than his brain, and Flynn couldn't shake the feeling that this mage had more sinister motives than his.

"For what it's worth, Sir Valka, I am much more at ease in your custody than that of our companions here..." Flynn murmured to the Squire, a hint of joviality in his tone, "The fear for my well-being in either of their hands far outweighs whatever threat you believe I pose."

Flynn was amused- not by his own joke, but by the fact that, despite his ignorance to his identity, he still appeared to have a sense of humour buried in his subconscious. The rest of the walk was uneventful, right up unto the groups first steps upon the abbey stair. Flynn sized up the building, rather surprised at his accommodations.

"I must admit, this is not what I had expected." Flynn mused, "I suppose I should thank you for your accommodations."

He paused for a minute, momentarily stunned at the notion of discovering who he was, "Sir Valka, before we go through with this, what is your plan? If indeed this Priestess is able to recover my memories, and I revert to a potentially more hazardous nature, how do you intend to see to everyone's safety? If I am truly anything at all like these monsters Lady Zash described, a humble building such as this would prove effortless to level..."

"She's a mage, just like you."

"Just like you."

"like you."

The words echoed in Jacia's mind as they were walking to the Abbey. Really? What sort of ass-backwards life would one have to live to be so idiotic!? Jacia hadn't even met the priestess, and she already knew they were nothing alike. Without even going into the differences between healing magic and the superior magic that Jacia wielded, there was just no way they could be even remotely similar. She was, after all, a genius, and she knew from experience that there were no geniuses in the priesthood. Closing wounds with her mind? That was the feat that so astounded the farm boy? Jacia had to remind herself that most of the people out here were not as intelligent as she, but it still vexed her. If only he knew what magic was truly capable of!

Jacia returned to reality, finding herself with guard, who was now labeled Iridian Valka, the farm boy, Kai, and the product of the rift, who, after proving to be impossible to accurately label, was grudgingly accepted as Flynn Rowe by Jacia. These people were not used to the structure imposed by scientific inquiry, so she was left with no choice but to abide by whatever they deemed appropriate. Such a shame, too.

The group was within the first steps of the abbey. Jacia made a mental note to stop spacing off and lose track of her surroundings. Such actions lead to catastrophes. She glanced at Flynn, speaking with Iridian about leveling the abbey. Iridian must be either very trusting, or very dense. Or deaf.

And then Jacia wished she were deaf. Kai, who appeared to possess fewer manners than a cow, decided that the best way to get the attention of the priestess was to shriek as loud as the human voice would allow, mere feet from Jacia's ears. She let out a disapproving "hmph!" and turned back to Iridian. He was being polite to Flynn, but remained stern. Iridian, she observed, had no patience for jokes when his dead countrymen were the punchline. She wondered if she could get the man to laugh at least once today. Laughing was healthy.

Although Jacia deeply wished to be studying Flynn like a child studies ants, she figured it would be better for everyone's nerves if the priestess were to examine him first. The wait, however, was killing her, and her feet were killing her. There was a bench, and Jacia had tried sitting, but could not keep still for longer than fourteen seconds(she counted), and so took to pacing the perimeter of the foyer, running one finger along the wall. Feeling the imperfections and bumps along the wall, she soon figured out the pattern. It was barely there, and most people might have considered it truly random. However, Jacia was not most people, and she was able to memorize the pattern. She removed her journal, using the wall as a surface and wrote the pattern down, drew a flower, and then wrote a short poem about the sun.

As it had now been exactly three minutes and twelve seconds since arriving at the abbey without moving forward, Jacia let out an audible, "UUGHHHHH", bunny hopped twice, then calmly walked over to Iridian and Flynn and spoke, "Iridian, would you believe me if I told you that I have read over one thousand books in my lifetime, that I have sat through lectures on spellweaving that lasted nearly six hours, and yet nothing I have ever done has ever been as boring as this?" She put her index finger on his chest and pushed, but he was too heavy for her to even budge and so instead she pushed herself onto her heels and further, to the point where she began to fall. In an attempt at catching herself, she grabbed desperately for Iridian's arm, but she feared her momentum would topple them both if he grabbed her.

How come genius always came paired with awkward?

"Unfortunately this is my first time in these tunnels as well. Despite the extent which this labyrinth seems to extend I've no knowledge of these structures before. While they have provided us with escape for now I," Phile paused and took a quick glance around before lowering her voice,"I wish to vacate these tunnels as soon as possible; danger taints the air here."

She had no warriors instinct, no twist in her gut or shiver down her spine that would ever alert her to malicious intent. But she did have a healers knowledge. With the only vent sealed the air beneath the village ablaze was stagnate and damp; blood tainted the air. The moist walls dampened much of the sounds of villagers passing by, their cries, their anger. Keeping close to Flynn as Kai pushed through the clots of people, Phile allowed mana to trickle out of her finger tips, out of her own body and into the veins of others. It was a fools hope that everyone could be saved but every life preserved was a world saved.

The girl she had so carefully kept tucked at her side disappeared. In the dancing light of the green torch Phile saw the lanky silhouette of the man that traveled with her not hours ago. What a relief.

"Mr. Valka," she spoke as she twisted the ends of a gaping wound with a glancing touch,"This cannot be all the villagers. Where is Ms. Ingram, or Mr. Bell? Or even Major Pool? Please, tell me, what has become of the village?" Phile hardly noticed coming to a fork in the path before they were attacked as words burst forth like a breaking damn.

Someone screamed. A young woman that had traveled as far as she dared through the tunnels regarded the unwelcome soldiers with unfettered fear, shrieking oh so that her voice ricocheted alerting anyone immediately. Soldiers poured forth from the darkness, monstrous and magical in the green light. Her body moved as if neck deep in water; she could hardly react. A hand grabbed her arm with bruising strength, pulling her close. The struggle and screams she put forth were but an instinctual response, all higher forms of thought frozen in panic.

As if from a distance Phile caught the sounds and flashes of action taken by her companions. It was a chaos of bodies, blood, blades, and magic, the weight of the conflict oppressing all else. Attempting to call for help only resulted in a shriek. Pain shot up her leg and she stumbled. A gun fired, the sound deafening her. The walls shook. Phile scrambled to her feet, grabbing the first figure she saw in--dear Sol-- that it be a friendly. Earth feel from the ceiling and suddenly she was plunged into darkness.

Dust and dirt peppered the air making breathing a health hazard for a minute. Phile grasped around in the dark; the mage's green torch seemed to have gone out when the tunnel collapsed. A voice sounded, it was Sir Cole. He and two other guards come brandishing swords and torches shuffled into the clearing. Most villagers that had made it to the fork had vacated the area, others were not so lucky, a sight more clearly seen; in the torchlight Phile adverted her eyes.

The guards held their torches aloft attempting to piece together what had happened. "Is everyone okay?" Sir Cole sounded strained and uncertain but he still stood by his post. Admirable.

"I-I believe we are a-all relativly. I mean, we have lost some-"Phile's eyes widened as she took a headcount, "W-where...?"

Phile allowed her gaze to straw to the rocky ruins. She covered her mouth and attempted to not lose whatever self-control she had left.