Lord Knight

III

She remembered being loaded into a cart... The ride from the battlefield to the nearby elven fortress was one of the worst things Brynja had ever had to personally endure. She threw up several more times and was denied rest, for fear that she would pass away in her sleep, she supposed.

She moaned all the way into the fortress, and to the room they carried her to.

"The field healers did what they could, but-" one of the soldiers tried to explain before being cut off by a heavily accented female voice.

"Put him here." The person then went on to speak in elvish as Brynja was laid down. "Get him undressed, quickly! I need to see the extent of his condition!"

"No," Brynja croaked as three elven maids tugged at the laces and strappings of her armor. "No," she grunted louder, this time in their tongue, pushing them away as she forced herself upright. The lovely elven women looked stunned and referred immediately to Lady Lilliana.

"I'll do it myself, and they leave. All of them," Brynja finished hoarsely.

"Lord Knight," the elven princess protested.

"I-" Brynja dry heaved. Thankfully, there was nothing left in her stomach to come out. "I said all of them. Only you can stay," she insisted, lacking the strength to sound quite as threatening as she had the first time, but was clearly still assertive enough. The maids looked frightened and deeply concerned about leaving their princess alone with her.

With a small frown, Lilliana reluctantly dismissed them.

For the first time in a long while, Brynja's dreams weren't plagued with the dead, and she slept through the day and well into the evening before her body realized it had over-slept, jolting upright.

Pharin was there. He was the first thing she had noticed. His face was clean, and his bright eyes widened as he leaped to his feet. When he threw his arms around her, she returned his hug, only then realizing how pleasant he smelled... in fact, she didn't stink either.

Panic gripped her chest, as he pulled away and she took in the sight of the fine pants and tunic adorning her own body. Lady Lilliana, who she hadn't noticed watching the whole exchange, spoke.

"Pharin bathed you and changed your clothing," she stated, apparently trying to reassure her.

"Her maids cleaned and combed your hair, though....they still don't know," Pharin added. An exploratory swipe of Brynja's hand found her blond hair smooth, and in a loose ponytail, save for the strands not long enough to be held by the band, which mostly fell around her face, stopping near her cheekbones and chin. "Scouts have been searching for hours...there's been no sign of any more undead since you struck down the necromancer," her page finished.

Brynja was speechless. She hadn't even really put much thought into what she'd do if she outlived the war. Should she settle down? Find a husband? She had done it... she'd killed him and lived. ...But her helmet.

"The Kings want to speak with you... all of the ones close enough have already gathered here," Lilliana informed. Her posture was so perfect... and her hair was very nice. Really, now that Brynja was actually looking at her from this close ...the elven princess was absolutely stunning.

Pharin snapped his fingers in front of Brynja's face, drawing a brief scowl from her, and causing what she would have sworn was a flush to bloom across Lady Lilliana's porcelain cheeks.

"What do they know?" Brynja questioned with a deadly serious expression.

"A lot of people saw you without your helmet..." Pharin returned in Brynja's native language. Her stomach churned painfully, and she felt a cold sweat break across her skin.

"And?" she prodded, not liking the way Pharin's adam's apple bobbed first.

"People mostly believe one of two things," he said carefully, wringing his hands. "They're saying you're either mixed.. or a... a woman." Pharin looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for her response.

Brynja sighed heavily, bringing up her hands to cover her reddening face. Neither of those things were looked well upon, though the latter was far worse. Punishable even. ...A woman in the army. Brynja let out a drawn-out growl of frustration before speaking.

"What has she said?" Brynja questioned, dropping her hands to her lap in enough time to see the hurt expression that crossed Lilliana's gorgeously soft features, for which Brynja immediately felt guilty.

"Nothing," she said, raising her chin. "I've told them nothing."

Brynja looked at Pharin. "They're gonna want to know who you are, Bryn... Everyone wants to know who you are."

Within the hour, Brynja found herself face to face with most of the remaining leaders of the people of Aramanna. There had been several thanks and congratulatory speeches, which was all just priss and pomp in Brynja's opinion. But when they came to the matter that she was most concerned and anxious for, she suddenly wanted desperately for them to go back to eloquently praising her.

"There is something very important that must be addressed, however," one of the human kings stated, stepping forward. Brynja knew his voice and face well. He was King Lyam....the very King who had conceptualized and brought the Knights of Aramanna into being. "Lord Knight, while who and even what you are is currently the subject of much debate, the people have decided quite unanimously..."

'That I'm to be punished?' Brynja wondered, unable to help the bitter feeling that rose in her throat. Lyam smiled at her tensed posture.

"That they want you to be awarded a title higher than your current station," he said gently, his grey eyes squinting in a kind manner, twinkling with pride.

Her brows drew together in confusion.

"The people want for the Lord Knight to be crowned," an elven king clarified from where he sat, his accent muddying the words, but making them no less significant.

Brynja was completely speechless.

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