As soon as I finished my tale, Gideon whistled through his teeth. “Now THAT is a love story, gentlemen.” He added, as if he was hosting a romance night for middle aged ladies in someone’s basement.

The idea made me chuckle. I met the guy only a short while ago, yet I had immediately sensed that he was indeed the type of person who would do such a thing. I could almost see him sitting in a musty cellar with a bunch of women critiquing one another in an attempt to perfect their first novella.

“Yeah, no… I still think he got robbed.” Joseph stated.

“Ah, Josie…” Gideon winked at me when he used the nickname. “You wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass.”

“It certainly bit Vivian in the ass.” The tall man retorted, resulting in stifled laughter from multiple sides.

“Scathed as I may be, I believe in Elijah.” I told them. “I am convinced this is a mere trial the Gods are putting me through to test my faith. When my soulmate and I are finally reunited, I trust there will be sufficient explication.” I tell them, my voice full of conviction.

“See? True love…” Gideon sighed.

“True foolishness, that’s what it is.” Joseph added in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes.

“Jo, don’t anger the Gods. It’s true that Viv may sound naïve to some, but what if it IS a trial? The powers that be have given humankind stranger tests than this… I’m just saying, you never know.” Gareth retorted, to immediate acclaim from Lionel and Gideon.

Joseph let out a mocking chuckle at his words, then got up and raised his hands to the sky. “May the Gods strike me down this instant if they indeed sent poor Vivian on a holy mission to reclaim his lost love!”

A few of the men winced, but nothing happened.

“See?” he grinned, lowering his arms. “No Gods, no fated love, no holy mission. Just a misguided minstrel that…”

“Shut up Jo.” Sandor bit. “If you don’t have any respect for the gods, then at least respect your companions’ beliefs. Because if you can’t do that, I’ll make sure you show respect to your superior officer’s love for polished saddles and armour. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Joseph grumbled, as he sat back down and started rolling a cigarette. A smothered chuckle rung out from the other side of the campfire. I could not discern who it stemmed from, but one stern look from the captain in that general direction stilled it immediately.

I felt slightly responsible for the shift in mood, so I grabbed my lute and started playing a jolly tune, to the merriment of all. It did not take long for Gareth and Gideon to join in song. After a while Lionel joined in with his deep baritone as well, and although I couldn’t hear a sound escape Twain’s lips, I did spy the young hulk’s lips move. 

“Can I give it a try? I used to play, years ago.” Sandor asked me, in between songs.

I immediately gave my lute over to the captain, and switched to my tambourine instead, supporting him with a backbeat to his strumming. He seemed a little rusty at first, but with enough encouragement he managed to play ‘There come the Knight’, to which everyone sang along.   

When he launched into the three-four time of ‘Oh my Duchess’, Gideon stood up and started dancing. He smiled as he threw his arms out and swayed to the beat. “One might as well practice their moves, for they may come in handy if I happen to meet the future Mrs Cail.”

“Strong dancing skills are the key to a woman’s heart.” I agreed.

“I agree, and I am quite the ladies’ man.” Derreck bragged, running a hand through his dark hair.

Gareth burst out laughing. “Aye, you drive them crazy alright. With you around, my dearest Jeannie need never question my fidelity. However poor Twain here still needs you to leave him a lass to woo on the dancefloor.”

“I can’t dance. I told you.” The young soldier grumbled, crossing his arms in further silent defiance.

“Ah, but if that’s what’s keeping you from revelling in the marvels of womankind, I must intervene and guide your feet to their destiny! For what is a man if not a dancer?” I orated as I took the young man’s hand and pulled him out of his seat. Or attempted to, at least. I would not consider myself feeble, but man nor arm moved an inch.

“Twain, don’t be a sourpuss, let him teach you!” Gideon spurred him on. Upon which the young hulk rose to his feet with a sigh and eyed me cautiously, almost childlike. His sheer size and impressive build would make one overlook his youth, but in those grey eyes it was unmistakable.

I took his hand and smiled at him to set him at ease, before showing him the proper way to lead a lady in musical embrace. His cheeks fired up crimson as I swayed him like one would a female partner, hard as it was with him towering over me. His fellow soldiers cheering his ineptitude and embarrassment both.

I spoke some encouraging words to lift his spirits, before showing him the proper way to dip a partner. I couldn’t fully execute the move as low as I would have, were I dancing with a lady. My arm strength simply wasn’t sufficient to support the weight of this behemoth. But I made sure he got the gist.

More laughter resulted from the onlookers, and Derrick thought it amusing to jest about the fact that I loved a man, hinting at less than pure intentions toward his younger colleague.

I knew this was not the case, as did everyone who had witnessed my tale about Elijah not long ago. So I didn’t feel the need to honour the vulgar comment with a reply. Twain however, seemed awfully offended. I had no desire to elicit a fight between brothers-in-arms, so I countered his expression with a reassuring smile, then told him he was ready to take the leading role.

I showed him the proper positioning of his hands, and verbally cued his moves, allowing my body to be led. After a couple of stumbles, he seemed to get the hang of the basics and started paying more attention to the beat. I spoke some encouraging words, and let him find his own gait. Slowly but surely, his brow unclenched, and the corners of his mouth started to curl.

Growing more confident in his rhythm, he twirled me around the campfire. As his mates cheered him on, he grew as bold as to attempt a dip. Being well versed in any type of dance, and possessing no small amount of either balance and theatrics, I played along and swayed dramatically. Eliciting a burst of applause from our onlookers.

I threw a dazzling smile at the crowd, for it is in my nature. Then turned my gaze to my dance partner. Twain was staring right back at me, seemingly a little dazed. It appeared he had no clue how to proceed from this position.

I smiled and told him: “after you pause like this, you either pull the woman up against you, then move a step back to regain the original position, or you lean in and kiss her.”

But instead of pulling me up like I expected, his eyes went wide like saucers. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the forest floor, duly reminded of the fact that I was still severely injured.

Twain was still holding my gaze as I hit the ground. And only after the thud had stopped resonating in my ears, seemed to snap out of it.  

Moving backwards instead of reaching out to help me up, panic shortly flashed across his face. And I realised I may have pushed the man too far out of his comfort zone. As I wasn’t an offended female, I ignored by burning sides, jumped up with a twirl, grabbed Twain’s hand and bowed, feigning it all being part of the act.

Another round of applause rang out and I took my seat gracefully, after which Sandor handed me my lute back with an approving smile. I immediately launched another sing-along to keep the attention on me. Only later dared I glimpse at the youngest soldier, who sat solemnly staring at the fire for the rest of the evening.

Before we retired for the night, the captain told me I could accompany them to Crimsonville, where they would be dropping off the bandit leader’s head as proof of their successful endeavour.

Gruesome as that was in itself, my hopes were sparked as Sandor figured Elijah’s caravan must be crossing that town on their way to Aesmyrn. He estimated I could probably catch up to the caravan sooner if I headed straight through the woods, but he pressed upon me the notion that it was not safe to travel there by oneself, especially not without knowing the way.

Having almost perished the last time I set out to brave the woods by myself, I had learned my lesson and accepted Sandor’s offer.

Even if Elijah was suffering in captivity, he probably wouldn’t be better off if I ended up getting myself killed hurrying to his rescue. No, my chances at saving him were infinitely better with seven trained soldiers on my side.

Before I took the bedroll assigned to me in the large shared tent, I silently thanked the gods for sending these men to my aid, for I surely wouldn’t have been able to overcome the hurdles they set for me by myself.