Night is nearly upon her, and Arjana finds herself in a slump. She lies in the tent on her cot, overwhelmed by the harsh reality: her kingdom has fallen, and her family along with it. Trakka had considerately left some food beside her, but her appetite has vanished. As she lies there, the thought of negotiating with the elves doesn't even cross her mind. She feels utterly lost...
Suddenly, a slight crash jolts Arjana from her daze. "Trakka?" she whispers, only to find Izzimar who has stumbled over a box of supplies.
"Ow, Arjana, are you there?"
"...Izzimar..." she gasped, remembering their purpose for coming. Before she could speak further, he sniffed the air and leaped beside her at the smell of the untouched food.
"Is this meat?"
"Yes, it's suckling pig. You can have it; I'm not hungry," she murmured, curling up on the bed. Izzimar wasted no time, grabbing the tender meat and voraciously tearing into it. Arjana had never seen him so famished... perhaps he hadn't eaten in some time? He devoured everything, bones included, then hiccupped and sighed contentedly.
"That was delicious!" he declared, prompting a chuckle from Arjana.
"That's suckling pig; it's a delicacy back at home," she explains, then sighs sadly. Izzimar feels for the bed and sits down next to her.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"...My kingdom is gone..."
"How do you know?"
"Izzimar, these are my people... and they... they had to leave Paria because the barbarians invaded."
Izzimar jolts in shock, his ears twitching as he lets out a surprised hiss.
"What? But... the way you told the story of your people, there's no way your kingdom would fall!" he exclaims.
"This isn't the first attack on my people... they've been waiting to do this for years," Arjana explains. "Papa kept an eye on them... it was only a matter of time before they did something big like this." Izzimar listens intently before he hesitantly asks.
"What...happened to your family?"
"They're gone...I have no family left," she replies swiftly, fighting back her sorrow. Izzimar wishes to respond, smelling the salt of her tears. Choosing not to disturb her further, he stays silent.
"...The barbarians are demons...they attacked my people over and over!" Arjana exclaims in anger. "Those damned bastards! WHY MUST THEY DESTROY EVERYTHING!" She vents her fury before succumbing to tears once more.
Izzimar is shocked by her abrupt cursing, yet understanding her tales of a once thriving homeland, he finds no fault in her. He embraces her again as she weeps in his arms. "Arjana...you're welcome to stay with me and Birger for as long as you need....," he murmurs.
"But what about my people? I can't just leave them..." she says through her tears.
As the tent flap is drawn aside, Trakka re-enters with a plate of food.
"Arjana, I've brought your favorite—grilled snake—" Trakka halts abruptly upon seeing Izzimar embracing Arjana. Arjana stiffens, realizing that Izzimar is not wearing his sheet. Everyone is still, a heavy silence falls over the tent, followed by an exasperated sigh.
"Arjana, where did this malformed fiva come from?" she demands.
"Huh?"
"Fiva, you've encountered them, right?"
"What is a 'fiva'?"
"That!" Trakka points at Izzimar as he bristles with offense, hissing.
"I'm not a 'fiva'; I'm an Umbran elf!"
Arjana looked between them, puzzled. How was Trakka not astonished at the sight of an elf? Her people hadn't encountered elves since the inception of their kingdom.
"Trakka, have you... encountered elves before?"
"We didn't exactly have a choice. Passing by the Thygian Kingdom, we came across a group of them.," Trakka sighed, setting down the plate. "They were turned away from Thyge. We offered them food to leave us alone, yet they persisted in following us. We refer to them as 'fivas', the famished ones."
"What happened to them?"
"After we sacrificed a cow for them, they ceased to trouble us," Trakka recounted with a tired sigh. "Having a band of women is costly... we were fortunate they sought only food...." she trailed off as she presented Arjana with the grilled snake. Izzimar whimpered, enticed by the aroma. In that instant, Arjana conceived a plan, albeit a perilous one.
"Trakka, I believe I know a safe haven for us," Arjana proposes, before turning her attention to Izzimar, who is sniffing the grilled delicacy. Feeling compassion, she offers him the snake, and he eagerly starts devouring it. After taking a deep breath, she steels herself and nods decisively, her mind made up.
"I have elven friends. Maybe if we talk, we might live together peacefully?"
"Arjana no! What prevents the elves from enslaving us?"
Arjana pauses to ponder; she must devise a persuasive strategy for Trakka. It was a gamble, yet she felt compelled to attempt.
"What if we promise food?", Arjana suggested, "They are cursed; they can't hunt or grow food without the touch of humans."
"Impossible," Trakka scoffed, just before Arjana, in a fit of irritation, grabbed her dress, nearly ripping it. "Hey!" Arjana then pulled Trakka out of the tent to with Izzimar in tow. The murmuring crowd halted and gasped upon seeing Arjana.
"Our young princess!"
As cries erupted and they bowed, reaching out to her, Trakka stepped in. Arjana surveyed the area, then noticed the small orchard the women had established at the settlement's heart. She reached for Izzimar, who batted her hand away, mistaking it for another woman's curiosity.
"Izzimar, it's me, Arjana."
"Oh, sorry, speak next time. Can you not see that I'm blind?" he teased as she guided him to the center of the settlement. She positioned him in front of one of the tomato vines as he knelt beside her.
"Watch this.", she instructs the crowd, "Izzimar, there's a tomato vine in front of you. Please, touch it."
"But... it'll rot..."
"Please, show them."
Reluctantly, Izzimar reached out to grasp the tomato. As soon as he touched it, the tomato began to soften and mold, eventually turning mushy and liquefying in his grasp. This astonished the women and children watching.
Arjana then picked a ripe tomato from the vine and offered it to Izzimar. "Here, Izzimar, this is a fresh one," she said. With trembling hands, Izzimar took the tomato, sniffed it to ensure it hadn't rotted, and bit into it. As Izzimar savored the ripe tomato, the onlookers began to murmur, and Trakka was equally astounded.
"How is it possible that your people have not perished from hunger?" she inquires of Izzimar.
"We steal food from humans. But Arjana cooked food sometimes."
Trakka's face darkens. They have relegated Arjana to the role of a cook, a mere servant.
"So, fiva, your intention is to enslave us?" she accuses, as Izzimar responds with a hiss of protest, which Arjana quickly quells.
"Listen..." Arjana sighs before she reluctantly admits. "... It's true, they abduct women and children to work on farms and in their kitchens. But maybe we could live with them willingly."
"And what would we receive in exchange?"
"Safety, Trakka! They wield magic! Watch!" Arjana swiftly assists Izzimar to stand. "Izzimar, perform a spell, any spell," she urges, eager to prove her point. Izzimar lifts his hand, then pauses.
"Arjana...are you sure?"
"Yes, please, show them that elves can protect humans."
Izzimar delves into his pocket and retrieves a tiny book. He thumbs through it, then pauses to touch the pages. Driven by curiosity, Arjana approaches him, prompting him to halt suddenly.
"It's me, Izzimar."
"Next time, give me a warning before you approach. I'm feeling...a bit...overwhelmed..," he exhales.
"Do you...need any help?"
He turns to face her with reluctance. "Some of these spells are very dangerous... Even if I were to weaken them, the range..." His voice fades as he gazes into the book. Arjana peeks at the book and sees images, but no words, just rough ink splotches.
"How can you read this...?"
"...... I can't. I just... feel the ink splotches... However, it's been a while.", he admits shamefully.
Arjana examines the pages, observing pictures depicting vast destruction and potent magic. Words are there, but they are unreadable to her. Her confidence begins to waver. If Izzimar were to harm anyone... they might grow to fear him. She glances skyward, noting the setting sun. The other elves would soon come to raid if Birger didn't manage to appease them. If only... Suddenly, an idea comes to her.
"Izzimar, bring Birger and the other elves here."
"What!?", Trakka interjects.
"Why? Didn't you need me to prove that we could be trusted?"
"Yes, but it's getting dark, and I need my medicine," she lies. "Birger and the others can take care of me. Please?"
Trakka becomes suspicious as she glares at Izzimar, whose skin crawls under her piercing gaze. After a moment, he nods. "Okay, I'll go get them," he concedes before sniffing the air.
"Do you need help getting back?" Arjana offers.
"No, I know the way, thank you for...worrying about me."
As he wanders off, the murmurs of the women are overheard. Once Izzimar is out of sight, the women's frustration becomes vocal.
"What are you doing!?"
"Are you planning to hand us over to these creatures!?"
"You've betrayed us, haven't you!?"
The group of women started shouting and yelling at Arjana, mocking her decision to trust Izzimar. Arjana was aware that her plan might anger her people, but she never anticipated a reaction akin to a mob. The women began to encircle her, their fists raised, as their voices grew louder. Fortunately, Trakka stepped forward to shield her from their potentially lethal intent.
"Hold it! If anyone is to punish the princess, it should be me!"
"Oh, bother! You served the king and nurtured that child! We all know you won't harm a hair on her head!" retorted a woman.
"ENOUGH!" Trakka bellowed, quelling the women's tirade. "We have no kingdom, and like any other member of this settlement, she is not exempt from punishment," she declared, before pulling Arjana back into her tent. Yanking her arm, Trakka grabs a wooden plank from a pile of her belongings and struck her. Whimpers and small cries from Arjana can be heard from the tent as Trakka spanks her with the plank. Arjana had lost count how many times she was hit, all she knew was that Trakka was angry, and it showed in the strength behind her strikes.
Exhausted, Trakka dropped the plank as tears streamed down Arjana's face. She had endured punishment from her father, but never from Trakka. She attempted to speak, but only a whimper escaped before Trakka sighed.
"Arjana... we can't risk a group of strangers arriving at our small settlement," she explained. "In the Thyge Kingdom, we were fortunate to evade the clutches of the vile men who aimed to enslave us. We lack weapons, funds, anything to protect ourselves!," she added. Arjana whimpered and averted her gaze, fully aware of the danger. She understood the peril that would ensue if men discovered their settlement; their safety could not be assured. T
"Left to their mercy, with or without spells, we can't trust them. What guarantees do we have against being reduced to mere slaves?"
Arjana sighs, her shoulders drooping. "Arjana, I know you have good intentions, but you are a naive child. People will say anything to you," Trakka explains, kneeling to her level. After a whimper, Arjana takes a deep breath and storms out of the tent. Trakka watches her leave, then sighs in frustration until a commotion outside catches her attention. Rising quickly, Trakka exits the tent to see Arjana struggling to place a piglet onto a spit.
"Stubborn girl! Your father served the people of Paria, you are seeking to aid the fivas—"
"I am doing this for my people! Father said that to help our people, we must make alliances!" Arjana continued. "If you won't help me, then leave me alone!" she shouted as she ignited a fire beneath the piglet.
Silence ensued. Nothing but silence as Trakka stared at Arjana's small, still figure. The air was thick with tension when suddenly, a scream pierced the quiet near the settlement's border.
"Who was that?"
A woman approached them, tears cascading down her cheeks as she sobbed.
"My son, Nanok, is dead!"
"Nanok?" Arjana echoed.
"Oh no...", Trakka gasped as she and Arjana headed towards the direction of the screams. "Nanok was the only 'man' in the village capable of fighting he had just turned eighteen," Trakka murmured in disbelief as cries echoed around them as they reached his body.
Upon arriving at the scene, the air is pierced with wails as women shriek and children weep. Arjana forces her way through the throng until she freezes at the gruesome spectacle. A young man lies before her, his body riddled with stab wounds and, most horrifyingly, decapitated. The sole identifier of his body was the pattern on the scarcely legible attire he donned. Overcome by the ghastly sight, she staggers back and retches. There can be no doubt about the perpetrators of such heinous acts; the barbarians. And they are near.
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