The King's Command
There is no point in going back for Lady Myrr. You doubt she escaped the blast. Hell, you were lucky to even make it out. You and Caitlyn travel off the road to the center hub of Miranna. With an island full of fugitives and outlaws you figure it wouldn’t be that difficult to lay low. Even though it’s night, the place is still alive. The taverns almost never close. You and Caitlyn meander through the streets looking for a place to rest. Her skills must be remarkable because Caitlyn is even able to swipe a few coins from a passing by drunk to pay for the room. On the outskirts of the hub, you find a place: The Cove Inn. The place isn’t rowdy like the others you passed by. A few depressed-looking sailors sit at the bar milking their drinks. You pay for a room, not having to say much to the Innkeeper. The service providers on Miranna didn’t question wounded patrons. As long as they had coin. You help lay Caitlyn down on the bed and take a spot next to her.
The next morning…
You awaken with pain everywhere. The adrenaline from the night before had finally worn off. With a grunt you sit up to see how Caitlyn’s doing. Her face is white and the wound at her side looks to be infected.
“Shit, Cait. Your side…” your voice trails off.
She barely manages to speak, “I’m sorry, Prince. I let Darius capture me and it’s all my fault. Thank you for saving me. I know you grew close to Lady Myrr.”
“Don’t say that. It’s my fault. You’ll be fine. Just need to rest up a bit. I’ll go find us more money to pay for another night,” you say.
“Ever the fool, Prince. Will you tell my father I fought bravely?”
“Of course, Cait,” you say tears welling up in your eyes.
“Thank you, Prince. I love—” her words cut before she can finish the sentence.
You press your forehead to hers feeling the weight of your actions. If you hadn’t grown so attached to Lady Myrr, you could have killed her and possibly escaped to Brelia with Caitlyn. Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps coming from downstairs. You can’t fully hear the conversation with the Innkeeper, but you clearly hear one word in particular: 'Upstairs'. Not taking any chances, you hurriedly put on your sword belt and grab your things. You hesitate, wondering if you shouldn’t leave Caitlyn’s body on the bed. What does it matter at this point? She’s dead and you’ve lost everything. Every move stings as your bruises and open wounds remind you of the night before. It’s not as bad as Cait got, you think. You escape through the window and make your way through the back alley to avoid whoever is downstairs. Out of nowhere, two street thugs appear in front and another two to your back.
“What do we have here? A lost nobleman?” The ugly one to your left says.
“What? No, why does everyone call me that… I’m really not in the mood for this,” you reply.
You try to push past them, but they stop you. Angry at your circumstance, you take it out on the street thugs. Turning on the two behind you first, you whirl around pulling your sword from your belt in one decisive movement. Your sword drives into the gut of one and your fist meets the other’s face. As he’s dazed, you rip your sword out and slice in an upward manner through his throat. You sense the others drawing near and turn to face them. Hindered by your injuries, you parry a few blows before being overtaken by their fury. As you bleed out in the alley, you think of home. You think of Cait.
The next morning…
You awaken with pain everywhere. The adrenaline from the night before had finally worn off. With a grunt you sit up to see how Caitlyn’s doing. Her face is white and the wound at her side looks to be infected.
“Shit, Cait. Your side…” your voice trails off.
She barely manages to speak, “I’m sorry, Prince. I let Darius capture me and it’s all my fault. Thank you for saving me. I know you grew close to Lady Myrr.”
“Don’t say that. It’s my fault. You’ll be fine. Just need to rest up a bit. I’ll go find us more money to pay for another night,” you say.
“Ever the fool, Prince. Will you tell my father I fought bravely?”
“Of course, Cait,” you say tears welling up in your eyes.
“Thank you, Prince. I love—” her words cut before she can finish the sentence.
You press your forehead to hers feeling the weight of your actions. If you hadn’t grown so attached to Lady Myrr, you could have killed her and possibly escaped to Brelia with Caitlyn. Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps coming from downstairs. You can’t fully hear the conversation with the Innkeeper, but you clearly hear one word in particular: 'Upstairs'. Not taking any chances, you hurriedly put on your sword belt and grab your things. You hesitate, wondering if you shouldn’t leave Caitlyn’s body on the bed. What does it matter at this point? She’s dead and you’ve lost everything. Every move stings as your bruises and open wounds remind you of the night before. It’s not as bad as Cait got, you think. You escape through the window and make your way through the back alley to avoid whoever is downstairs. Out of nowhere, two street thugs appear in front and another two to your back.
“What do we have here? A lost nobleman?” The ugly one to your left says.
“What? No, why does everyone call me that… I’m really not in the mood for this,” you reply.
You try to push past them, but they stop you. Angry at your circumstance, you take it out on the street thugs. Turning on the two behind you first, you whirl around pulling your sword from your belt in one decisive movement. Your sword drives into the gut of one and your fist meets the other’s face. As he’s dazed, you rip your sword out and slice in an upward manner through his throat. You sense the others drawing near and turn to face them. Hindered by your injuries, you parry a few blows before being overtaken by their fury. As you bleed out in the alley, you think of home. You think of Cait.
