An Unnecessary Rescue

Aliza Veiss Level 10 Dark Mage (SenpaiPancake)
Estevan Valmiro Level 10 Wyvern Rider (Darth_Slaverus)

At the Plegian/Ylissean border...

Aliza smiled, her face aglow with the warm, lingering rays of the setting sun. Stretching out her hand, she watched with glee as the Ylissean soldier before her begged for mercy. “Now, now my sweet,” she cooed, her sickly sweet tone hollow and mocking. “Don’t cry! I'll be gentle, I promise!” The soldier whimpered, unable to stem the flow of tears. Aliza sneered, disgusted by the man’s trepidation. “You’re all the same, you abhorrent cowards,” she spat, dropping her facade. The words struck like a cold wave, startling the already shaken man. Tired of her game, Aliza’s face contorted somewhere between elation and revulsion as she called forth her shadowy magic, unleashing the full extent of her wrath upon the now silent corpse.

The girl stood silent for a moment, her gaze glued to the perforated corpse. Thick, sticky blood had already begun to pool at her feet, but if she noticed, Aliza gave no heed. Instead, she studied the body, as one would study a work of art. Then, with a satisfied nod, she threw a lazy glance to her surrounding area. A dozen or so bodies lay strewn about, all bearing the insignia of the Ylissean nation, as well as identical puncture patterns. Aliza giggled slightly as she placed her finger to her lips, a delighted glimmer sparkling in her eyes. The soldiers had been caught off guard by Aliza's ferocity, thinking the dark mage to be an easy target. This had disappointed the girl somewhat, her playtime cut woefully short. Maybe, she thought with a grin, just maybe they'll send some reinforcements out to find these idiots. This might just be my lucky day!

Most men would have balked at the idea of being selected to carry out an aerial patrol three days in a row, particularly so close to Plegia's border. Although the main Ylissean host had been successfully driven from the country, Plegia's frontier was rife with reports of Ylissean and Feroxi stragglers desperately making their way toward their respective nations to regroup. An unseen arrow or gust of wind magic from one such band looking to avenge their earlier defeat could easily spell the doom of an unwary wyvern knight. The innate danger of being repeatedly sent on recon assignments in a contested region would be enough to convince many warriors that their commanding officers were making a deliberate effort to get them killed.


But Estevan Valmiro was not most men, and his superiors knew it. Brimming with patriotic fervour and eager to uphold his reputation as his unit's most decorated trooper, Estevan had accepted his orders with an unprecedented exuberance, suiting up and saddling his wyvern without a moment's hesitation. Normally, wyvern-mounted scouts operated in pairs, but the young soldier had specifically requested permission to fly solo. His mount, The Sunset Princess, was not known for her ability to cooperate with others of her brood, and Estevan at any rate preferred to ease the burden on his squadmates by doubling-up on his own duties.

Now, soaring high above the rolling dunes, Estevan circled the border wastes, scouring the sands below for any sign of unwelcome visitors. Having memorized his route on the previous two patrols, he was well-ahead of schedule: At this pace, he would likely be back at the camp before nightfall. Yet, although the prospect of a hot meal at the barracks appealed to him, he couldn't help but wonder if the speed of his progress had come at the cost of quality. What if he had missed the enemy in his haste (It still stung to refer to Ylisseans as "the enemy" after what he had seen, but he shoved those particular doubts aside for the time being)? Dedicated to a fault, Estevan resolved to turn back and conduct a more methodical search, even if it made him late. However, just then, a piercing shriek from his wyvern snapped him out of his thoughts, alerting him to a bizarre scene upon the ground beneath him.

A figure clad in the robes of the Grimleal's clergy stood amid a ring of corpses, seemingly unfazed by the massacre surrounding them. As Estevan descended to investigate, he was alarmed to discover that the uniforms of the slain bore the colours of Ylisse- and that the lone surivor was a woman. That settled it. Whatever had transpired here, Estevan's chivalric obligations demanded that he render immediate assistance to a holy woman. Swinging out of the saddle as The Sunset Princess set down next to the mysterious cleric, Estevan called out to her.

"Ho there, Priestess! Are you unharmed? What happened here?"

A shrill, piercing shriek startled Aliza, shaking her from her ghastly daydreams. Instincts took hold as the girl dropped into a defensive position before spinning around, her hands crackling with dark energy. Gazing up, her wary eyes widening in surprise. Above her, suspended like a leaf in the wind, was a colossal wyvern and its rider. The dying light of day spilled across the man, illuminating his crimson visage and auburn plate mail, a perfect mirror of his magnificent and terrifying steed. Just a Plegian scout, Aliza thought to herself as she dropped her hands. Certain there was no immediate concern, the girl moved to take a more appropriate stance before freezing, her breath catching as the man’s face came became clear. A small gasp escaped her lips as she noticed her heart beating frantically.

"Ho there, Priestess! Are you unharmed? What happened here?" he called, his gentle voice tender and affectionate. Aliza’s cheeks burned red as she stared, dumbstruck, at the man, her mind a blank. “Uhhm, uhhh, I, um, ran into trouble,” she stammered, finally finding her voice. “These Yilssean dogs ambushed me and… and tried to drag me off! I was so afraid…” Crocodile tears began to well as Aliza let out a violent shudder before dropping to her knees, praying that the man would accept her lie. The last thing she needed was the Plegian army keeping tabs on her.

"What?! Damn it!" Scowling, Estevan looked to the east, vexed by the priestess' tale. Those stubborn fools... What on earth were the Ylisseans thinking, trying to renew the conflict so soon after their defeat? What a senseless loss of life... Was this the prelude to another incursion, or merely a group of remnants hoping to take a hostage to guarantee their own safety? Either way, the young wyvern knight could not condone their actions; to accost an innocent clergywoman was despicable! He would have to report this to the Captain at once.

However, even his overwhelming sense of duty took a backseat to a fellow Plegian in need. Mindful of the fact that he had sworn in front of a holy woman, Estevan shot the Grimleal an apologetic look. "Beg pardon, Priestess. Please forgive my rough language. But if what you say is true, then Ylisse has violated our truce. We cannot let this go unanswered!" Seeing that she had been reduced to tears by her ordeal, Estevan strode forward and offered her a comforting hand.

"Take heart, milady. You were very brave to fend off so many soldiers by yourself." Indeed, the sheer number of corpses in the area suggested that she was a figure of great power within the Grimleal's ranks. "Please, come with me... It's too dangerous here. I can give you a lift to our nearest fort; allow me the honour of escorting you. I give you my solemn oath as a knight that I shall keep you safe."

As he hovered above the priestess, he realized with a start just how young she was, her soft features suggesting that she was barely out of her teenage years! She must truly have been a magical prodigy, to have dispatched a dozen men without a scratch in return... But more than that, she was unbelievably attractive. Her fair blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and gentle countenance combined to create an appearance that could only be described as enchantingly beautiful.

This only served to further awaken Estevan's protective instincts. He would not hesitate to defend any of his countrymen and women, of course, yet the young and innocent in particular needed to be shielded from the horrors of the world... His own private fascination with the girl was also a factor, but he wasn't about to admit that.

Aliza fought to keep her face grim, the corners of her mouth twitching in protest. From his tone, it was clear that the rider had taken the bait without hesitation, much to the girl’s relief. Wiping away the unscrupulous tears with an oversized sleeve, Aliza looked up at the man. The fading sunlight played across his rugged features, her eyes soaking in every detail. She could feel her heart flutter as their gazes met, his soft, luminous eyes devouring her form just as ravenously. The air grew stale with uncomfortable silence as Aliza realized just how long she had been mesmerized.

“T-thank you, kind sir,” she stammered, silently cursing her momentary lapse in thought. “And fear not. I am no stranger to the oaths sworn on a battlefield.” She looked away, focusing on the familiar scent of blood and death. She had to reign herself in. Handsome or not, this knight was no friend of hers. Forcing a tender smile, Aliza placed her petite hand into Estevan’s gentle grasp before standing. “My, what a strong grasp you have Sir… Ah! I’m so sorry, I realize we have not introduced ourselves! I am Priestess Aliza Veiss, Lady of our Lord Grima.” Bowing slightly, Aliza rolled her eyes in disgust. Formalities such as these were dangerous, but any other action would arouse suspicion.

She looked intently towards Estevan, as if to motion him to introduce himself, but before he could even speak, she leapt upon him, her soft hand clamped tight against his mouth. A wild look crept slowly across her face as she pointed towards the hill immediately behind them. Leaning close to his ear, her hot breath dancing across Estevan's skin, she whispered, “I think there are more soldiers coming. Prepare yourself, knight. It’s almost time to fulfil your oath.” Her tone had become cold and calculating, a stark contrast to what was mere seconds ago. Then, smiling sweetly at Estevan, Aliza drew a small book from her robe, taking a defensive stand behind the man. “Fight well, knight.”

To his credit, Estevan did not balk when the youthful priestess abruptly launched herself at him, the sweet scent of her hair wafting into his nostrils even as she warned him of the approaching danger. He had been trained to expect erratic behaviour from civilians who'd been exposed to the brutality of war, and this was no exception. The poor girl was obviously in shock and in need of a soothing presence, judging by her wild mood swings. In the span of about thirty seconds, she had shed tears, half-flirted with him, and was now readying herself for another battle! Giving Aliza's hand a tight squeeze in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, Estevan turned to face the direction she had indicated, drawing his axe.

"Please, let me handle this, milady. I, Estevan Valmiro, shall be your shield." While he couldn't discount her skill with magic, raw talent was no guarantee that an individual was a hardened veteran. Even for the patriotic wyvern knight, killing was not something that came easily, and he could only imagine the lasting repercussions on Aliza's psyche if she were to be subjected to such savagery twice in a single day. There would be no more blood on her hands; not if he had anything to say about it.

Of course, it had not escaped his notice that Lady Veiss seemed to be quite taken with him. The way she had stared at him... How she had clung to him... Well, he DID cut a rather dashing figure, didn't he? In light of her endearing infatuation, Estevan felt even more compelled to resolve this himself, if only to live up to her expectations.

Mounting his wyvern, Estevan took to the air, careful to keep Aliza within his sight in case they were assailed from multiple directions, and waited. Sure enough, a small group of men clad in Ylissean liveries soon appeared, cresting the hill before him.

"You there, HALT!" Estevan shouted, trying to capture the same tone of authority and bravado the Captain regularly employed, "You men are trespassing upon His Majesty Gangrel's realm. Lay down your arms and proceed to the border immediately. Do so, and I promise you shall go unmolested. Do not, and you will face the wrath of a Plegian Knight."

A wry smile spread across Aliza's lips as Estevan took flight. Her honeyed words had taken hold without fail, ensnaring the man in her seductive web. However, she pushed the lingering thoughts of his rugged looks and enticing charm from her mind, scowling at herself for becoming even momentarily enamoured with the man. He was nothing but a tool, a means to escape her sticky predicament. And yet... she didn't quite mind his chivalrous ways, or his eloquent speech. Estevan was a shining knight in armour, ready to sweep Aliza off her feet, she could tell as much.

Estevan's shouting tore Aliza from her thoughts, and she turned her attention forward. Several Ylissean soldiers stood tense upon the summit of the hill, there bodies as still as statues. Estevan barked some honour-laiden speech at the men, hoping to drive them away with mere words, and failing that, merely his fearsome presence. However, Aliza would have none of that. There would be no mercy for the Ylisseans. She could already feel the blood boiling in her veins as the unsatable rage built in her heart.

Aliza screamed. She screamed an unearthly scream as she fell to her knees, her hands crackling with the budding energy she possessed inside. “You'll never take me!” she screamed, pointing at the leading man. “You'll not use me again you monsters! I am my own!” She opened her hand, her palm extended towards the man. “Die...” she whispered, her eyes cold and devoid of all rational emotions. A thin, shadow like projectile shot forth from her hand, moving at an almost incomprehensible speed. The man lifted his shield as if to block the blow, but moments before impact, the shadow exploded into a shower of needles. He watched as his men began to scream, their skin peppered with the tiny flecks.

“Stand fast men! This witch means to take us to our graves!” he cried, rallying the group as he began his charge. “Do not fall prey to her parlour tricks, she is naught but a spineless spawn of Grima! We will have her head this day!”

In any ordinary circumstance, Estevan would have condemned Aliza's attack on the fugitive soldiers as cruel and thoughtlessly destructive, earning his everlasting distrust. But, try as he might, he could not banish the memory of the earnest, glistening tears that had streamed down her delicate cheeks... Nor could he see her anguished outburst as anything but genuine. In that moment, for Estevan Valmiro, Aliza Veiss might as well have been synonymous with 'helpless victim,' even as her spell tore into the Ylissean band. Still, there was something strange about the unnatural fury with which she voiced her hatred. Use her again? What did she me-

As realization dawned, Estevan felt the icy chill of apprehension grip his heart. By all that was holy... Had she been...?! Instantly, his mouth settled into a hard line, a wild look in his eye. There was a time and a place for forgiveness, but this was no longer one of them. Swift retribution was the only answer. He would scatter these Ylisseans to the winds, and hope the survivors had the good sense never to return. As the Ylissean officer declared his charge, Estevan gave his mount's reins a short, sharp tug, imperceptible to the warriors below.

In response, The Sunset Princess swooped into action, descending upon the first Ylissean with terrifying precision, pinning him beneath one of her massive claws. The unlucky officer struggled and cried out, but quickly ceased his protests when the wyvern's jaws snapped shut mere inches from his throat. Having quite literally crushed any hope of successfully completing the charge, Estevan stared defiantly at the remainder of the Ylissean force, daring them to try and get past him.

"It is cowardly enough to attack a woman, but to need numbers to do so? Craven dogs, the lot of you! Face me, and learn how a MAN fights!" he exclaimed, affixing each Ylissean in turn with his steely gaze.

For a moment, Estevan's challenge had the desired effect, none of the Ylisseans willing to approach the volatile wyvern. Then, shrieking incoherently, one of the Ylisseans surged forward in a brazen attempt to free his trapped comrade, a claymore clutched between his meaty paws. It was a bold move, but Estevan was ready for it. When the swordsman drew near, preparing to deliver a vicious overhead chop, The Sunset Princess, a well-trained beast despite her temper, instinctively swiped at him with her free talons. The Ylissean, evidently a novice when it came to the arts of war, made the fatal mistake of flinching and thereby losing all momentum behind his blow. Capitalizing on his mount's feint and utilizing the superior reach his wyvern afforded him, Estevan lashed out with his axe, the blade biting deep into his opponent's sword arm and causing him to drop his weapon. The man barely had time to scream out in pain before the wyvern knight followed through with a merciless shield bash to the face, felling him on the spot.

"Who's next?!"