Chapter Text
Her legs shuddered with every bounding step, heart hammering to the beat of her strides. The direction in which she headed did not matter - only the need to run. Keep goin’, she chanted to herself. Just a little further.
Behind her, distant screams tore through the night, each one a hook digging deeper into her chest. But she knew there would be no use in turning back. She couldn’t save them now. It was either a death in vain trying to be a hero, or a chance at life.
And in the face of death, Elspeth had chosen herself.
You left them to die, the voice inside her hissed, sharp as frostbite. But what else could she have done?
They had come in the night, spilling into the village like a river bursting its banks. Bandits, she guessed, but she had no time to be sure. The screams came first - frightened, desperate, blood-curdling screams. The death throes of men and of wailing children.
Then came the fire.
House by house the flames spread like wildfire, an insatiable beast consuming all that crossed its path. Every house, every market stall… every child. Children she had watched play in the village courtyard only hours before.
Those who escaped the claws of the flaming beast found no mercy. Bandits waited beyond the smoke, armed with axes and spears and swords, picking the innocent off one-by-one as easily as swatting away flies. No hesitation. No mercy. It was senseless, cold-blooded murder. And all she could do was try to flee, as far away from the chaos as she could get.
A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, forcing her to stumble. Her knees buckled beneath her. Wet mud splashed in her face when she collapsed onto the ground, still damp from the previous night’s summer shower. A sob overcame her, so raw and strong she struggled for breath. Images of the carnage were seared into her mind, of fire and smoke and bodies. The man who had laughed as he drove his sword into a pleading woman. A sense of emptiness crept over her, until all she could do was stare into the dense blackness.
She could not recall when the crying stopped.
A soft whimper broke through the haze. She turned her head and there, peering down at her with those bright, piercing eyes, stood a scrawny, four-legged figure.
Aethel.
Her loyal shadow. The only bit of home she had left.
A gasp of relief escaped her, face breaking into a grin. Then came the guilt. He must have followed her when she fled Delaryn. The realisation she had left him behind to perish in the massacre forced the tears to fall once more, hot and bitter.
“I’m… I’m so sorry, boy. Stupid, stupid!” she sobbed into his matted fur, clutching at it with shaking hands. “How could ye still want to follow me when I left you to die?”
The kitsune only nudged his wet nose against her round cheek.
"C'mon, lad. We gotta find somewhere tae hide," she told him.
Like shadows they slipped through the dense trees, feet squelching beneath them. Aethel led the way, sniffing each bramble and stone for danger, his four tails swaying in tense rhythm. Beside their footfalls, the forest lay silent; the bloodshed had long since ended, though the heavy scent of smoke still clung stubbornly to her nostrils.
For now, all they could do was find shelter to rest until dawn. And then… then what? Her village was in cinders. Everyone she had come to know since settling there was gone. The reality settled deep into her bones like a winter chill. She was alone. No, she told herself. You’re not alone. Aethel’s here. The thought made her smile despite it all.
After trudging through the woods for another quarter of an hour, they came upon a wide, mossy oak with a hollowed alcove at its base. Elspeth whispered a thank-you to the stars above and crawled inside. It was a tight fit, but it would do. Aethel curled up beside her, ears pricked in alert. Sleep did not come easily, but come it did.
She dreamt of ash and smoke, so thick it gagged her throat.
Choking her, blinding her.
In the dream, she did not flee. Instead, she desperately tried to save her people. To lead them to safety. Sword in hand, she clashed with the invaders; men with faces like beasts, eyes burning like the flames around them.
They swarmed around her, their disjointed limbs jerking like puppets pulled by unseen strings. Laughter rose from mouths that did not move, rattling inside her skull. One stepped forward, his blade an extension of his arm and made of bone, with torn flesh stretching along the jagged edge. He raised his bone blade, and the laughter stopped.
“Tried to run, did you?” His voice was distorted, overlapped by her own, and his lips did not move. She screamed as the blade plunged into her chest.
She awoke still screaming, sweat dripping down her temples. Aethel whimpered above her, prodding at her face with his slimy snout. It was only a dream, it was only a dream... she chanted, until the tremor in her hands eased.
Through the lattice of twisting branches, pale pillars of light shone down and speared the forest floor. Dawn. Songbirds sang their morning greetings in the alcoves above - a robin's chirp here, a nightingale's call there. She rubbed behind Aethel's ear and crawled out from their hideaway, stretching her arms to relieve the cramp. From head to toe she was caked in dirt and soot, and her once red hair looked black with it. Her kitsune's usual white fur shared a similar fate. A narrow stream wound past the tree, its glistening waters trickling over the curves of stones and twigs. Aethel lapped at it thirstily, making Elspeth aware of her own dry throat. Kneeling beside him, she scooped handfuls of water into her muddied palms and gulped them down. The taste was hardly pleasant, but it at least erased the traces of smoke.
"You need a bath, boy. Look at yae!" she exclaimed, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. He tilted his head and gave her a look as if to say, 'Have you seen yourself?'
Elspeth snorted. "Aye, aye, alright laddie. We'll both get a bath, eh? Then I'll go hunt us some grub. How bouts it?"
Aethel wagged his tails in agreement. He padded into the stream and rolled onto his back, when a twig snapped behind them. Aethel surged upright and pulled his lips back into a snarl. Elspeth’s eyes darted for cover, but the only hiding place was the oak they had slept in- directly where the sound had come from.
Instinct took over as she dropped flat into the stream, the cold water biting through her rags. A shiver raked her spine as she pressed herself lower, and she waited with baited breath for any sign of movement.
"Down, boy!" she hissed, but Aethel would not listen.
Another snap.
A man garbed in white armour stumbled into view, muttering under his breath as he pushed aside a branch. His axe hung loosely in his grip, more with the weight than threat, and his brunette whiskers were slick with sweat. Elspeth observed him cautiously, keeping perfectly still despite the pebbles digging into her ribs. Her heartbeat thudded so loudly she was afraid he would hear it.
The man’s eyes landed on the stream. He froze on the spot.
Aethel lunged forward with a warning bark, sharp teeth ready to tear at flesh. The man yelped and staggered back, almost tripping on a root. Sunlight reflected off the steel of his axe now raised to strike should Aethel pounce. Elspeth bounced to her feet and cried out; whether she screamed Aethel’s name, or No, she wasn’t sure, only that whatever it was made the kitsune skid to a halt and retreat. A sigh escaped her.
“Saints alive, your dog just about scared the daylights out of me!” he bellowed, clutching his chest. “Captain, I’ve found… well, something!” he exclaimed in an equally loud voice. “Captain? CAPTAIN! By the goddess, where did that man get off to?”
Elspeth eyed him with curiosity. He was no bandit, that she was certain of. “He’s not a dog, he’s a kitsune,” she corrected. “We don’t want trouble, so we’ll just be moving out of yer way.” With a click of her tongue, Aethel heeled. Before she could turn to walk away, more men broke through the bushes, all but one wearing armour matching the loud one.
“There you are, Alois. Don’t go running off like that, you hear me? And lower your axe,” a rugged man at the helm said. He looked to be in his forties; blond tufts of hair covered his chin and along his jawline, and he wore his hair in a tight, thin braid. His stern gaze softened when it found Elspeth. “Good grief,” he muttered. “You escaped from Delaryn, right? I’m sorry about what happened.”
Elspeth feigned ignorance. "What's it tae you? Me an’ Aethel here are minding our own business."
Even if these men weren’t the ones who razed her village, danger wore many faces. Trusting strangers was a luxury Elspeth could rarely afford. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, the same ones she had lived by ever since her passing the previous year: never let your guard down, keep moving.
Besides, she was content with a life shared only with Aethel. He was loyal in a way people rarely were, and had been by her side since she was a babe, watching over her with a constancy she had learned not to expect from anybody else.
The rugged man sighed. "You're scared, I understand. My name is Jeralt, and this here is-"
"Alois Rangeld! Knight of Seiros at your service!" the other boomed.
Knight of Seiros... She wracked her brain. Seiros was a Saint, that much she knew, but Elspeth knew little of Saints or... much of anything, really. Still, if they were in service of the goddess, then surely they weren’t here to kill her.
She hoped.
"Have you been there?" she heard herself say. "To Delaryn? Is anyone... is anyone still alive?" Her voice was a mere whisper.
Jeralt wore a solemn expression. "A few, but they're wounded. They might not make it to tomorrow. We're taking them back to the monastery." He gestured vaguely to his left with a jab of his thumb. "You should come, too."
A lump formed in her throat, but no tears came. At least there was hope, if only for a few of them. It took a while for his offer to register in her mind. "That's good... Where was that you were taking them?"
"Garreg Mach,” Jeralt said. “It's not too far from here, a couple of miles at most. We can take you there, if you like. It's not safe here, and..." he hesitated, then sighed. "There's no village for you to go back to."
Elspeth crouched beside her kitsune, fingers combing through his matted, still-damp fur. “What d’ye think, boy?” she murmured. “Shall we go with these kind knights to somewhere warm? I bet they've got plenty o’ meat.”
Aethel’s ears twitched, and he licked his chops. It was settled, then.
“I’ll come,” she said, rising to her feet, “but Aethel comes with me.”
“Of course,” Jeralt replied, to her surprise.
Alois turned pale. “C-Captain! You can’t seriously mean to bring that- that creature near the students! It nearly took my arm off!” he complained.
“If he wanted your arm, Alois, he’d have it.” His tone was dry enough to silence further protest. “Now come on. If he gets hungry on the way back, he can eat Alois.” He laughed and turned on his heel, knights following behind in a tight formation.
Conversation was sparse on their way through the forest, but Elspeth was grateful for the quiet. She was not well-accustomed to social etiquette - especially not with knights - and the weight of the previous night still pressed heavily on her chest.
Alois, however, seemed incapable of keeping silent for long. He spoke most often, jesting with his comrades, and after several minutes cleared his throat and began humming a tune she did not recognise. It started soft - testing Jeralt’s patience, she thought - and when Jeralt told him to pipe down he only sang louder, his voice broad and hopelessly off-key.
Despite herself, Elspeth felt her lips twitch at the corners. His cheer did not serve to erase her grief, but it did help to somewhat lift her spirits, like sunlight breaking through the clouds. She only wished she knew the words so she could join him.
Instead, she sang a melody of her own, one her mother had taught her long ago. Quietly at first, but as the path opened beneath their feet and the trees thinned, she found the courage to let the song carry.
"Well met, well met, my own true love, well met, well met cried he," she began.
Jeralt groaned. "Not you as well," he said, though the faint smile betrayed him.
Alois seemed to recognise the words and joined in with a hearty laugh.
"I've just returned from the salt, salt sea
All for the love of thee"
"I could have married the King's daughter, dear
She would have married me
But I have forsaken her crowns of gold
All for the love of thee..."
Unlike Alois, Elspeth did not sing for the purpose of joy. She sang in memory of her mother, who had clung to his song as a promise that the man she once loved might one day return. A man Elspeth had never once met, and long since told herself she would never know.
Her father.
But grief had a way of loosening old knots. The loss of her village tugged open wounds she thought had scarred over - of her mother’s final days, the fear of being alone in a world that cared little for crestless folk. She glanced at Aethel padding along beside her, his tails happily swaying from side to side. Truly, she was blessed to have him.
A vast structure emerged on the horizon, one Elspeth presumed to be Garreg Mach. It looked as much a fortress as it did an academy, with stone walls rising from the mountainside and tall towers catching the morning light. Though from this distance, its true scale was hard to grasp. Jeralt had briefly spoken of it as they walked; a town was nestled beneath it, one where students enjoyed visiting on market days. Pets were welcome, he’d said, though he was uncertain how the archbishop would react to a kitsune. Most pets students brought with them were small breeds of dogs and cats, not wild beasts.
“Lady Rhea takes in all sorts of people,” Jeralt said, his tone warm with reassurance. “As long as you show respect for her and the knights, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to offer you shelter. Her advisor may object, as he often does, but leave him to me.” He smiled then. “My child and I will look after you. Everything will be alright.”
His words eased something tight in her chest, but she did not voice her plans of not staying long. Now that she had no home, no friends nor family left to speak of, only one path remained clear in her mind - to search for the father who had helped bring her into existence and vanished before her birth.