A/N: Guess what?! I'm editing/rewriting this... because I just don't think I can deal with the terrible-ness and all the mistakes. Schedule is on my profile! Honestly, I first wrote this to ease my boredom and was super lazy about it. This time, I'm going to try to take your critique and be less lazy while writing/editing it! So far, this is the only chapter that's been edited so new readers: read ahead at your own... leisure. Old readers: the main storyline's not going to change. The writing is just going to be (hopefully) a little better.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed/critiqued! I appreciate all the feedback and I'll try to take it all into account. Now here's Up a Tree... Take two.

--

“Prince Kaeronis,” a guard called through the doors, opening one just far enough to reveal an eye, “We’ve caught a thief.”

Kaeron looked at the man—or what he could see of him—and furrowed his blond brows neatly. “Why are you telling me this? Is King Dannulian not the lord of this castle?”

“We caught her leaving the stables with your horse, Your Highness.”

Kaeron’s pointed ears perked with interest. When a strange mixture of thoughts circled his head, his eyes widened and his nose flared out as well. Who would want to steal his horse? She was fat, old and lazy. Given, she was the fattest, oldest and laziest horse from belonging to the elven kingdom of Aerison, but Mardell was still rather unappealing—in his opinion.

“Bring her in.” Kaeron sighed.

The guard shuffled away and moments later, the oak double-doors opened fully. A girl, bound by rope and gagged by a sock, was shoved through. She looked rather pitiful, curled in a ball—though only because she was tied up in this way—and lying on the floor, small in comparison to the large and empty space surrounding her.

Noting that something was amiss, Kaeron promptly walked over and squatted in front of her. He quickly pulled the woolen sock from her mouth, his forehead wrinkling as he tossed it a few feet away. Kaeron would have to remind himself to wash his hands later.

Meanwhile, the previous guard and a second just entering the room gave him a warning yelp.

“Your Highness! She’s very dangerous!”

Kaeron observed the girl curiously as she attempted to twist her head and stare at the two guards with hateful disgust. The elf-prince’s face was marked with a similar look of distaste, but hers was more justified.

“He put his dirty sock in my mouth!” she growled, wriggling furiously within her confines. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Her outburst was soon followed by a stream of hacking coughs. The girl repeatedly wiggled her tongue between her teeth in effort to scrape the taste away, but it remained.

Kaeron looked to the guards inquiringly, having felt they were reasonable characters until now.

“Well,” one said defensively, “she kept biting us.”

The other guard lifted his hands, bloody and marred with several semi-circle indentations.

“You make me sound like a feral animal…” the girl muttered, still gagging and spitting. “And that’s no excuse! You should have carried me so that your hands weren’t smothering my face.”

She gazed menacingly towards the guard’s frightened faces.

Kaeron wondered how such a tiny human girl could deal so much damage to two supposedly well-trained guards unless in fact, she was a feral animal. Clearly, they were shaken by her presence.

But before he could condemn the girl, Kaeron felt obligated to conduct a proper interrogation. He decided that the two guards would be too large a distraction for her—she would be too busy lamenting her loathing than answering his questions—and he commanded them to go.

“Leave and lock the doors.” He ordered calmly.

“But Prince Kae—”

‘Oh, so the elf’s a prince.’ the girl noted.

“I believe I am capable of handling a little girl. Don’t you?”

‘An overconfident, arrogant, sexist prince,’ she amended, scowling at his description. Still, she watched contentedly from her place on the floor as the two idiot guards trudged out the doors, their own pride lost.

As the oaken French doors shut, the pretty elf-boy turned to her. From below, he looked especially tall and slender. Rather than being mesmerized, the girl looked upon him with jealousy.

Why can’t I be that pretty?

“You won’t try to run if I untie you, will you?” He asked her gently, interrupting her envious thoughts.

“I don’t know,” she said after a pause. “Would escaping even be possible for me?”

Smiling, Kaeron knelt down and swiftly untied the rope, freeing the girl’s legs from her chest. She immediately released a sigh of relief, flexing the muscles in her legs and wishing her knees hadn’t been so bony.

But as quick as the feeling of relief had come, it was soon replaced by a bout of hostile suspicion. The girl looked up to stare at the elf distrustingly.

Why had he treated her—a thief—so kindly? She remembered learning as a child that elves were far more practical than human beings. They were smarter, prettier, and courteous to everyone, unbothered by feelings or grudges.

Honestly, the girl didn’t see how being nice to everyone was “practical.”

She spit in the elf’s face and ran for the window.

Unfortunately, her legs were still painfully stiff and numb. The wobbly dash to the window more resembled a baby’s first steps, or perhaps a drunken man’s journey home.

Quickly—after wiping the spit off his delicate little face—Kaeron caught the girl’s arm and swiped his blade up to her neck. It had all been in one swift, elegant motion. Despite having a stick cold metal pressed up against her throat, the girl was awed by his skill.

However, her awe was soon dispelled when she found herself once again tied up, this time to a large, plushy chair. Her body’s freedom had been so short lived, she mourned. At least her current pose—and the chair—was quite comfortable.

“Sorry I spat on your face,” she apologized quickly. “That part was an accident—you see, I’m still trying to get the taste of sock out my mouth.”

“I’m sure,” Kaeron replied, unconvinced. However, he did not have time to dwell on the topic. After the last episode, he simply wanted to get rid of the human girl as soon as possible.

“What is your name?” he asked her.

“Confidential,” she replied smoothly, giving him a mischievous expression.

“What is your name?” Kaeron tried again, eyes large and expectant. He refused to be lured by the girl’s daring gaze; it was obvious she was just trying to rile him up.

However, the girl had forgotten two simple facts: that she was human and he was an elf. Even an idiot would realize that elves were the superior race and that Kaeron—an elf prince—would win out in the end. All of the human’s attempts would be futile.

“Confidential,” the girl repeated.

“One more time,” he replied patiently. “What is your name?”

“Why do you need to know my name?”

Kaeron didn’t respond.

“What if I don’t tell you?” she tested again, raising her dark brows, “What would you do? Kill me?”   

When he gave no evidence of bad temperament, the girl paused and thought her words over. “Hmm… Actually, please don’t kill me. It’d be a very stupid way to die.”

Kaeron agreed.

Humans were pitiful and despicable creatures—one of the many things Kaeron had learned so far in his stay with the King of Belvar. At home, he had rarely encountered thieves, as elves had no motive to steal. It seemed to him that his things were being stolen every other day here in the human kingdoms.

But perhaps this particular human thief was simply… demented.

The girl watched him as he contemplated her words.

“I’m not afraid of death, you know,” she said, trying to fill up his silence.

Kaeron didn’t bother to mask the smile that entered his features. Of course the girl was afraid of death; all humans were. In fact, it had always surprised him to learn how far humans would actually go to avoid it.

To be honest, he actually found it quite amusing.

“Hello? You dead?” the girl questioned Kaeron, a bit disconcerted by his silence. The creepy smile on his face did nothing to ease her nerves, either.

When the elf still didn’t respond to her, the girl became more aggravated than frightened at the elf-prince. After tapping her toe on the floor—her ankles were immobilized by rope—for what seemed like hours, she wanted to scream.

“Blegh, you’re so boring!” She shouted at Kaeron in disgust.

Kaeron tilted his head at her but still said nothing.

The minutes that passed by were monotonous. For the first time, the girl began to observe her surroundings. She noted the elegant and pretentious décor, as well as the marbled floors and vaulted ceilings. It wasn’t long, though, until looking at the room bored her as well.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll tell you my name!” the girl cried, especially vulnerable to boredom.

Kaeron’s eyes perked up.

“It’s Erilee.”

Kaeron blinked at its simplicity. He hadn’t actually meant for the girl to reveal her name in such a way, but it had worked out in his favor anyway. He had just proved once again that his theory was correct: elves were definitely superior to humans.

“Why did you steal Mardell?” he asked.

“What’s Mardell?” Erilee questioned. “Oh, your horse?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know it was your horse,” Erilee grumbled, looking down at the swept floor. “It was the only one I could see in the dark, so I just went for it.”

She remembered the animal vividly, having been drawn to its mesmerizing elegance. Its coloring had been the same silvery blond as the elf standing in front of her, shining even without moonlight.

Kaeron stared at her in confusion. “And you were so desperate to steal…?”

To steal his fat, lazy horse.

“What is your background?” Kaeron amended. Perhaps there was a reason she had tried to steal his horse. Though, an ever-present voice in his head reminded him that humans rarely acted upon reason.

Such strange creatures.

“Have you ever heard of the Armez?” the girl asked Kaeron absentmindedly.

He was taken aback. Who hadn’t heard of the Armez? Civilized humans feared them and elves simply viewed them as a large nuisance. They roamed the Northern Plains and made them inconveniently unsafe for travel.

“Are you referring to the barbaric tribe of nomads that periodically raid both human and elven villages?” He questioned.

“Sure,” she said. “Now my second question is, ‘have you ever gotten drunk?’”

“What?”

The girl grinned. “Well, that’s basically my story.”

From there, Erilee recalled her tale to the elf prince. 

2: Alcohol and Barbarians

A/N: Edited 8/10

The babies were crying like donkeys and the horses were being abnormally difficult that day. Erilee’s pony-horse refused to keep up with the rest of the tribe. She slapped its butt and tried swatting its ears, but the stubborn animal just turned to bite her hand. Luckily, he wasn’t that flexible.

That night, it was finally decided by the Reajh that the Armez tribe would set up a temporary camp. They’d rest for about maybe the typical five to ten days before resuming their wandering (and terrorizing) across the Northern Plains.

Erilee noted the Reajh’s aggravation and did everything she could. She tried to stay on the good side of the leader, though this meant mostly staying away so he could not witness her small failures.

The night had been quick as everyone rushed to set up their tents and rest.

The first day of this particular encampment, Erilee had woken up to the sunshine. Her little brother told her that she had slept like a mule last night, hee-hawing each breath in a strange variation of a snore.

She merely responded by ruffling his little mane, causing the little ten year-old to humorously yawp back at her.

“I hate you,” the ten year-old hissed menacingly.

Erilee grinned and wrapped her skinny arms around her brother. She hugged and squeezed him until he was about to burst open and explode (quite literally). The only reason she stopped hugging him was because she was afraid his guts would spill all over the tent. She hated cleaning up messes.

“Aww, I love you too,” she cooed to her little brother.

For breakfast, Erilee skillfully overcooked the morning stew so that most of the liquid had evaporated. No one out of the entire tribe had commented, except her mother who tried slapping her hands…with a knife.

Erilee quickly swiped them away. “Ahh! Get away from me you crazy lady!” She screamed in fear.

“If you’re ‘too old’ to get punished, then you’re ‘too old’ to be living with your family!” Her mother shouted in response, waving the knife in the air angrily. “Get your own tent and sleep there!”

Erilee tried to protest in response, but her mother simply walked away before she could. Truthfully, Erilee was simply relieved that there was more distance between her hand and the knife now.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation dawned on her.

Had her mom just kicked her out?

Erilee suddenly burped and began to fake-cry. Did her mother really hate her that much?

After wallowing in self-pity for a good five minutes, she quickly stalked towards her family tent in anger. She would avenge herself, she decided.

Staring at the structure, Erilee huffed and she puffed and she…kicked one of the main beams of the tent down! As the temporary house came tumbling down to the ground, Erilee quickly ran away before anyone could catch and blame her.

Oops?

While hiding on the other side of the encampment, Erilee was suddenly ambushed by her brother and gave in easily to his whiney demands. She carried him on her back through the encampment twice, each time cringing as they passed her family’s fallen tent. Luckily, her brother was too distracted to notice.

Neir was a wanton child.

Rather chubby too, in her opinion. Erilee always scowled as she remembered how her back always hurt far too much for someone her age. Were piggy-back rides supposed to hurt?

At noon, she was later “saved” from her brother by the Reajh’s calling for the younger Armezians to gain hunting experience. It would be more accurate to say that Erilee was never safe. From anything. After all, was surrounded by crazy people in a crazy tribe.

While hunting, the other kids would have almost dared to laugh at Erilee’s sporadic attempts to hunt if they were not fearful of an arrow being flung into their eye. Her embarrassing lack of talent aside, Erilee’s family was also known for being particularly scary. Erilee always knew there was some use to having two scary parents.

If the Armez tribe were actually a petting zoo of deranged animals, her mom would be the demonic chicken and her father would be the intimidating but lazy rooster who let his wife do whatever she wanted. Erilee would be the scared little chick hiding from her parents and getting bullied by her brother.

But of course they weren’t chickens—they were a tribe of barbarians.

No one was surprised later when Erilee gulped down the noon-meal—that someone else had caught—in less than a minute and raged through the encampment after her brother. He was the only one gutsy enough to call her out openly about failure. In the end, her brother had successfully hidden away from her with his multitudes of friends.

What a dungbomb, Erilee scowled.

Their father had watched his children briefly with silent sighs.

The rest of Erilee’s day had been wasted sulking around, rolling around in someone else’s tent in self-loathing and solemnly tracing figures in the ground with her fingers. After an hour or two, she realized that the actual owner of the tent might return and quickly ran out.

Though everyone technically “shared” the encampment, she didn’t want to get caught and have to explain that she was avoiding her own family’s tent.

“I didn’t do it!” She shouted to no one in particular. Yes, that would definitely prove her innocence.

-----\(O.o)/-----

Later that evening, someone had spiked her drink.

Erilee couldn’t remember much of the night, except that she had been wandering around the encampment like a drunken buffalo and crying over a dead fly or something. She also vaguely recalled returning to her family’s still-fallen shelter at one point and crawling under the beams and animal skins.

When she woke up the next morning, Erilee found herself lying in the tall grass and shined upon by a stupid sun, a sword lying across her chest, still sheathed. The moment her eyes fell on the sword, Erilee screamed in fear.

It was not the typical Armez Scimitar, but a blade that she had held onto since she was eight. She had come across it in an elven village and though her father had forbidden her to, she had taken it.

And now he knew of her treachery. 

Erilee screamed aloud, but quickly cut herself off—screaming had triggered an incessant pounding in her head. Reflexively, she curled up into a ball and covered her head in effort to shield her eyes from the evil sun.

Unfortunately, the pounding in her head continued.

With dread, Erilee quickly figured that her father or mother would lecture her on her behavior last night, whatever it was. Erilee secretly hoped it was father, since he wasn’t nearly as scary as her mother and because he was usually too busy to even talk to her unless they were travelling. Erilee cried inwardly.

And yeah, she had a major hangover. She could think, but it hurt. A LOT.

Which was why it took her a while to realize how all the Armez’s usual neat line of portable homes had disappeared. She grasped the hilt of her sword and stood up sharply, the world turning wildly in protest through her eyes.

“Neir!” she called, the name of her adorable little brother—the one she was suspicious of for tampering with her drink. “Mom!? Dad!?”

No one was there. They had freaking deserted her.

“Friends?” Erilee whimpered pitifully, head still spinning wildly.

Soon enough, her desperate cries had attracted a pack of Viekrum soldiers. Encircled by the pack of evil animals—born into a tribe of barbarians, even these men looked like animals to her—Erilee widened her stance and held her sword up. Drool dripped down from one of the men’s mouth to the dry straw-grass.

She licked her lips, quickly pouncing up at a particularly bulky soldier and crying out when her head throbbed in protest. She gave a crooked spin and nearly fell to the ground at the weight of the sword in her hand.

Were the Armezian Gods punishing her?

Erilee barely dodged the blades as several of the Viekrum soldiers attacked at once. She knew she was severely outmatched—by both her hangover and by the soldier’s sheer amount of numbers—and that her only true weapon was her lightness of foot.

As she fought, Erilee reflexively nicked one or two of the soldiers in the head with her sword, barely getting away from the other swords in time. Taking advantage of the soldier’s momentary distraction, she quickly ran away.

And Erilee didn’t stop running.

3: III. The Marble Labyrinth

When Kaeron had given permission for the girl to leave, he had actually meant that he wanted her to run out of Belvar as fast as her stubby little legs could carry her (and maybe afterward, jump over a cliff). After all, he was occupied with his own, civilized affairs.

When Erilee began to protest soundly, Kaeron quickly untied her and pulled her from the chair, nearly shoving her face into the door. The elf-prince’s haste to be rid of her only inspired Erilee to do one thing—resist.

“I can get myself through the door myself!” she shouted angrily, twisting to face him. For a split-second, as she stared into his condescending pale eyes, she was tempted to bitch-slap him. Thinking that it would be too predictable of her, she kicked him in the shins instead. “G’night elf, and when your mommy comes, tell her how glad you were I didn’t kick higher.”

Kaeron didn’t have anything to say to that.

Satisfied, Erilee opened one of the large, white double doors and pranced out. Her entrance had been much more unceremonious than her exit. As she continued and made her way through the hallways, she could hear it slam behind her.

Somewhere ahead, the delicate statue of a young girl with round ringlets and bright smile stood on a questionably stable pedestal. It was cruel destiny that Erilee walked maladroitly into the delicately sculpted piece of rock and pushed it over, shattering it onto the floor. It fell into several pieces of jagged shards, fanning out on the cold marble.

An ancient maid came running on protocol, shrieking some god or goddesses’ name on the top of her withered lungs. Once her eyes fell on Erilee, she froze, showing a mixture of anger, fear, and shock on her wrinkled features. Erilee, not keen on being caught by soldiers again, followed her animal instincts and fled. She didn’t stop running, turning through wide, white corridors running past several oversized windows.

It took her ten minutes to realize she was lost in the marble labyrinth of a castle.

-----\(O.o)/-----

Erilee hated the sun. It ruined everything; namely, sleep.

That morning had come too quick, with its hyperactive rays of sunshine and unforgiving bird screeches. Erilee moaned loudly, stretching her arms above her head before rubbing her stiff back. With sore pleasure, she also extended her legs. Waking up was almost half-pleasant when a person wasn’t hung-over.

Though, the marble ground had not been a forgiving place to rest the last night. Erilee had spent her night crouched on the ground, her face pressed into a window. She would have preferred a patch of green grass, but there was only grass in the pastures here in Belvar. And those meadowy-pastures were dangerous places, where strange, nocturnal cows continued to wander. Erilee would not have liked being squashed by cow-hoof or covered in cow-poop in her sleep. Plus, she was still lost in the castle.

And then, something tripped over her extended limbs.

At least Erilee knew it wasn’t a cow.

When the unfortunate being fell to the stone ground and gave a muffled “ow,” she jumped up to her feet—a little too quickly—and began to scream an apology: “SOR—

“—Oh… It’s you.”

Prince Kaeronis wasn’t surprised when the girl failed to offer her hand, helping himself up and slowly patting away at the invisible dust. He wondered how much dignity he was allowed to maintain.

Erilee, for her part, sighed melodramatically, almost wishing it had been a cow that tripped over her legs— rather than an arrogant cow-prince. “You’re clumsy for an elf, y’know?” she said, tilting her head, “You elves are supposed to be ‘ethereal beings’ or something.”

“And you snore like the beast that you are,” Kaeron returned.

She glowered, “If I snore like a beast, then how come you didn’t notice me before you tripped?”

The elf swallowed fiercely, his Adam’s apple jerking up and down. Having trapped himself in his own cage of words, he grudgingly admitted to his oafishness in silence. Finally, Kaeron adjusted the collar of his shirt, cleared his throat, and gave the stare he had perfected since childhood:  “You’re not supposed to be sleeping in the middle of a castle hallway. What are you still doing here?”

“What d’you mean?” Erilee asked, noting that he was quick to change the subject.

“Why are you still here,” he repeated, “in the castle? In Belvar?”

“Why not?” Erilee asked with exaggerated innocence.

Kaeron wrinkled his nose, not sure if the girl was being serious, or if he was being mocked. “If you need help leaving, take any horse from the stables,” he said, observing Erilee’s blank stare. “Take any, except Mardell.”

“But I don’t want to leave—”

“What?” He asked. “Why not?”

Erilee scrunched up her face. The absurd elf prince was asking her to return to the very parents who had left her—in a hung-over state—to fend for herself against Viekrum soldiers. The mother and father who had left her without a word. The scary adults who would smash her into pieces.

She gulped. There had to be an alternative.

“I don’t think,” Erilee said, “they’d want me back.”

Kaeron could see why.

“So you’re going to spend the rest of your days toiling around Belvar?” he asked with disbelief, “The soldiers will be very busy. Even the women and children are working. You’d be a distraction.”

“Why’s everyone so busy? I thought Belvarians were all lazy and—”

‘They are lazy,’ Kaeron secretly agreed. Still he made a motion to interrupt her: “You forget your place, Armezian. Is the King Dannulian’s castle, and you offend many Belvarians with your words. There are many things for them to attend to now; preparations and such.”

“Preparations? Preparations for what?” Erilee asked, eyes narrowing.

“I cannot say—”

“King Dannulian isn’t planning a war against Viekrum, is he?” she interrupted.

Kaeron’s silence—for once—was answer enough for Erilee.

She remembered her father saying how that “stupid, fat red-head sitting on the throne” was the only one stupid enough to challenge the strongest nation on the continent, dooming his country once and for all. Maybe that’s way the Armez raided Belvar so often.

“Well, then what can I do?” she asked.

“You’re asking me?” Kaeron asked incredulously, “How would I know? I’m not Belvarian. I’m not even human.”

Erilee crossed her arms. “Then why are you here in Belvar?

“That,” he said, “is a good question. Now, I have things to attend to. Things of a higher caliber.”

Erilee scowled. ‘Higher caliber?’ What was that supposed to mean? He had completely avoided her question, which he had asked her earlier!

“Good day, Armezian. I am late for my appointment.”

As he walked away, Kaeron secretly hoped to never see her again. After all, he was preoccupied with an imminent war with the darkest human nation on the continent. He had no time to toil away on useless banter with a barbarian.

She wanted to scream obscenities at him. And then she did.

 

A/N: If you're wondering where this story is going... that is a good question. This story is a huge mess, but so much fun to write. I sacrificed aesthetics here for my own enjoyment, but please feel free to criticize or whatever. You won’t hurt my feelings—I don’t have any. I’m a robot. Mwahaha.

Okay, okay, okay. I’m crazy.

Thanks to everyone who comment/reviewed/critiqued this story! 

4: IV. Shards of Glass

Erilee sniffed in the midst of her run. If she couldn’t stay in Belvar, then she’d find another country to reside in. And maybe in that other country, she thought, she could convince the king to join arms with Viekrum and lay waste to that pompous elf-prince called Kaeron. And these dumb guards, too.

“Get back here barbarian!” a rather unpersuasive guard yelled from behind.

Erilee turned to stick her tongue at them, wasting no time in returning to her vigorous sprint right after. Worry began to grow in her stomach. After all, the guards knew the castle better than her. With her terrible sense of direction and wandering mind, Erilee had been lost her entire stay in the building.

She silently prayed to the Armezian Gods for help, knowing their less than merciful reputation. Shaman Laol had always hated her, too; she was sure that didn’t help her relationship with the Gods. Still, hadn’t they tortured her enough? Erilee only wished to escape the demonic building the people here called a “castle.”

As Erilee continued to flee through the halls, the situation only worsened. The seemingly endless halls began to shorten the more she ran. The white walls were narrowing. Soon, she was stuck in any thief’s greatest nightmare: a dead end.

Erilee turned back, frantically searching her surroundings for inspiration. Below, above and to the left was the usual coldly elegant marble. On the right, an oversized window stood commandingly, decorated with floor-to-ceiling drapes. Erilee considered climbing the curtains for a split second, but the thought was quickly dismissed. She had never climbed anything before, and she had never heard of an Armez who had done so before and lived to tell the tale.  

The guards continued to run at her, baring their weapons. Erilee braced herself for recapture. She would return herself with dignity, she thought with determination. Dignity.

But their intention wasn’t capture.

It was murder.

An impatient guard quickly aimed his spear at her heart, his eyes crazed and violent. He missed, impaling the large window to her right instead. The damage in the window began with a crack, then it slowly grew to an avalanche of glass spilling to the ground. Several guards whimpered at the sight of the destruction, knowing the damage costs were all coming out of their paychecks.

Erilee took the chance to run, leaping out the giant frame and wincing at the shards of glass piercing her naked feet. For the first time in her life, she understood the real reason why common people covered their feet with stiff leather. It wasn’t just that they wanted to mask the smell of their stinky feet; they wanted to protect their stinky feet, too.

King Dannulian’s guards chased her until they reached the market, where they lost her in the sea of people.

--

Obviously, the Fat King (King Dannulian) saw the Armez as a huge threat. Why else send half his castle protection to run after an innocent little girl? If her overnight stay in the marble labyrinth had taught Erilee anything, it was that she was not welcome here. At all.

And that the Fat King probably wanted to eat her head for dinner.

Erilee shivered, distracted from the impending dilemma of her bleeding foot. Like all Armezians, she was tough-skinned. Yet, the thought of cannibalism still frightened her out of her barbarian-wits.

She returned to the thought of her wounded foot, not wanting it to fester. Spying the nearest pub, she woddled through the streets on pained feet and entered.

At first, she was paranoid.

The previously blood-thirsty guards occupied most of the grungy tables, drinking cup after cup. They drunk themselves silly, hiccupping and moping over their doomed future. Not only had they failed to kill the girl, but they damaged his stone-estate as well.

Slowly in discretely, Erilee slid into the shadows—ignoring her pain—and crept up on a guard. The man had already torn his chainmail off and fallen asleep on the questionably-sanitary table, snoring like thunder. Without qualms, she stole his alcohol and slipped his shirt off. She quickly pranced away, less than pleased with the view of his full beer gut. Stealing small things was much easier than horses, she noted. Especially when the guards were drunk.

Outside in some dingy street corner, she sat herself on the ground and prepared to pull the shards from the balls of her feet. The bustling people of the city ignored her and or avoided her.

I would avoid myself, too, Erilee thought, glaring at her feet.

She took a deep breath and began pulling the pieces away.

In the end, extracting the glass from her foot later was nothing compared to the pain of cleaning them in alcohol. She tore the shirt up into strips and shoved one in her mouth, dousing the others in alcohol sparingly. As she poured the solution over her wounds, Erilee clenched her teeth until she thought they would break.

Her foot seared with the pain of a frozen fire. She had not felt this much pain in her entire life, yet for her dignity, she was determined not to cry.

But in that bout cold fury, one thought dominated Erilee’s mind.

Revenge.

--

Happy Valentines Day! Sorry it's barely a chapter, but I figured I should post something... 

5: V. A Blind Battle

Coming back to this dingy stable reminded Erilee even more of why she had hated Belvar. Erilee tried to hold her breath but gave up when she thought she would implode. She reminded herself not to stay too long, hoping the odor would not linger on her clothing.

‘I’m going to get what I came for, and then leave.’ She told herself, hustling into the splintery structure. ‘No distractions.’

Yet, as she entered, dull shimmers sprouted in the musty night air. Even the dirty wooden walls of the stable exuded a muffled, ethereal glow. Erilee eagerly followed the familiar pale sheen to the stall in the farthest corner, almost entranced by its blocked incandescence.

Mardell.

The creature stood in his stall like any ordinary horse would in the middle of the night. Eyeing the horse, Erilee remembered exactly how she had been mesmerized by its beautiful abnormality just a night before. He had looked like a mythical creature to her: like a unicorn with its horn brutally chopped off.

But that was the past.

Now, the white luster of his coat reminded her of the snobbish elf he belonged to (whose personality in contrast was actually quite lackluster.) They had the same pale exterior and elegant gloat about them, though she was sure the horse had a much kinder demeanor than its owner. If not for being different species, she might’ve believed Mardell and Kaeron were twins.

Perhaps they were born from the same mother, Erilee thought snarkily, Kaeron receiving the more ass-like qualities.

She let out a snort before quickly cutting herself short. Tonight, Erilee refused to be distracted again; she couldn’t afford to now that she was bent on a bloody revenge. Also, the smell here was still terrible.

‘I’ll steal the horse later,’ she thought to herself. ‘If I have time.’

She quickly turned around, heading for the stacks of hay on the other side of the stable instead. The area was shrouded in darkness.

Blindly digging her hand into a random bundle of hay, she searched around. Unable to feel anything but dry stalks, she tried another one, getting similar results. After repeating with four or five more stacks, she began to feel frantic.

Where is it?

In desperation, Erilee began flopping around in the straw. Her hair was a mess and her clothes like smelled stale poop, but that was the least of her worries now. She needed to find it.

Yet, efficiency had always been an alien concept to her, especially since her emotions usually overruled logic. She scowled at her own idiocy and jumped around blindly through the night.

How hard is it to find a sword in a haystack? It’s not even a needle!

After a few minutes more of futile searching, Erilee took a rest and sat on the disassembled piles of straw. Meanwhile, Kaeron’s horse continued to glow in his stall in the back corner of the stable. She glared in Mardell’s direction miserably.

‘Once I find my sword, I’m definitely going to steal him.’ She swore.

Something suddenly clashed into a nearby wall, an angry string or swears following the sound. Erilee stood up and immediately ended her session of self-pity, scanning the darkness apprehensively.

“Who’s there?” She called out to the oblivion.

No one answered.

But soon after, another loud clash filled the air, this time sounding more metallic. Erilee guessed that the mystery-intruder had tripped on a bucket or something this time, laughing silently to herself at his clumsiness. It rivaled her own.

She halted her laughing when she heard the sounds of footsteps approach. As the intruder slowly got closer, she could see a faint silhouette: a tall, lean frame.

‘Kaeron.’ She deduced.

Before he could even think to move, Erilee erratically kicked the air, not stopping until she heard the satisfying sound of pain.

At this exact moment, she was very grateful to have been born a girl.

But her euphoria of glory soon evaporated when the sound of a sword being unsheathed filled the air. Erilee panicked and ran for her life, going in the direction she hoped was “away.”

Hey Armezian Gods! If you’re really out there, now would be a great time to send me back my sword!

She chose that moment to run into a wall, head throbbing. At this point, her paranoia was merciless. Erilee was constantly worried that Kaeron was just seconds away from stabbing her, her head already muddled and confused. She frantically thrashed against the wall and walked along it, using it to guide across the stable. Eventually, she felt something hanging on the wall.

She pulled it off, feeling the grooves and length to find that it was a rather sturdy pitchfork. She breathed a sigh of relief. Pitchfork grasped in both hands, Erilee prepared to confront her mysterious foe.

Another clash and string of curses filled the air. Erilee grinned, following the sound towards the boy. She could not tell if he had been caught by surprise or not.

Their weapons clashed once every few swings, the rest of their slashes miraculously missing any target. Erilee hacked away shamelessly, completely unaware of the path her pitchfork was taking. Fighting in the dark was difficult for any person to do well and felt particularly futile to Erilee. Yet, she was determined to win.

She grinned as the voice suddenly cried out, hoping that she had impaled him well.

Not only was she about to steal Kaeron’s oh-so-prized horse, she had beaten him in a fight! Erilee laughed at the nonexistent irony.

Meanwhile, the stable boy came running in with lantern in hand, awakened from his nap.

The orange glow of the lantern lit up the space, revealing her enemy’s dark hair and green eyes. The taste of victory soured as Erilee’s wavering ego dropped several levels. She had not been fighting the elf prince after all.

It was just some random douche-bag.

She found herself scrutinizing her victim, baring her eyes into his handsome face and wishing desperately that it was Kaeron’s alarmed expression instead. Her eyes slowly travelled to the weapon held loosely in his hand—her own sword—and she scowled at the boy, snatching it up and kicking him down.

“Who are you?” she growled, pushing the tip under his chin and against to his neck.

The lantern light, though better than the previous darkness, was still very dim. It lit up the blood covering her blade, which Erilee suspected, from the crustiness, was actually still the cow’s she had eaten for lunch two days ago. The stranger on the ground shrank back in fear.

Meanwhile, watching fearfully from the side, the stable boy wet his pants and fainted. His lantern dropped along with him, falling to the ground and causing small sparks to fly out. Erilee watched in dismay as one of the sparks fell onto a pile of hay and ignited it into a fire.

A fire—in a stable filled with hay, wooden walls, and horses.

6: VI. Multiple Routes

The boy stared at Erilee like a fish out of water. “You’re a girl?”

“No,” Erilee said in agitated sarcasm. “I’m a man.”

The boy continued gapping, his green-eyed gaze both degrading and disturbing.

She tried to ignore him, staring into the growing flames just a few feet away instead. They swelled at an alarming rate, setting off the fear inside of her and putting her in temporary paralysis.

Should I put it out? Or run?

While she contemplated the choices, the boy’s bright eyes continued to sit on her in dumb shock. Distracted by his gaze, her thoughts became increasingly scattered and useless. Eventually she had wasted so much time that the flames grew too high for her to even consider putting out with a horse blanket.

She really had the worst luck.

“I don’t really have time for your staring,” Erilee spit angrily at the boy, adjusting her hold on the sword.  “Let’s go.”

She quickly dragged him by the shirt collar and headed for the exit, wary that the flames were already quickly closing in. The brunette boy yelped a bit but was surprisingly limp and easy to pull. As she passed the still unconscious stable boy, she kicked his side in an act of mercy.

The stable boy woke up bleary eyed and scared. The wet spot on his pants still showed, but Erilee was too frantic at this point to laugh. “You might wanna’ get up and run if you want to survive, Boy!” She shouted to him, regardless of the fact that he was right below her. “You started a damn fire!”

With that, she ran through the quickly decaying exit, not looking back. Whatever happened to the stable boy now was not her fault.

On the other hand, the brown-haired boy in her grasp still thrashed madly. He was unable to escape her grip, despite the fact that she was a few heads shorter than him. Somehow, her somewhat stocky build prevailed.

“Y-you’re ch-choking…me,” he gasped as they continued fleeing. “I-I can..r-run by… myself.”

Erilee turned her head and glared at him for a brief moment, still not slowing her pace. “I know.”

“Then…l-let me go.”

Erilee grunted in reply, not actually letting him go until they were at least a mile or two away from the castle grounds. And even when she slackened her grip on his shirt, Erilee threw him to the ground and immediately pressed her sword to his neck.

“Don’t even think about running away,” she threatened, baring her teeth. “You’ve caused me too much trouble. Who are you anyways? Why’d you steal my sword?!”

The boy took in a deep breath, stretching it out as if his next words would be the most important thing uttered in his entire life. It was slow and dramatic, causing Erilee to stare in confused annoyance.

“My name,” The boy started slowly, “is Larry Brown.” He sighed dramatically at the end.

Larry? Larry Brown?

It was all Erilee could do to refrain from laughing and keep her face stoic. The silence in the air hid her internal struggle. This was her chance to appear cool and threatening, and she couldn’t ruin it. Not yet.

“You have a dumb name Larry Brown.” She tried to say condescendingly.

She puffed up her cheeks to avoid laughing. Soon, a snort escaped and betrayed her. Within seconds, she was rolling around on the ground and screaming his pitiful name. She had never heard anything like it.

Of all the names he could have picked, his was the most ordinary string of words possible. Yet, he had also dared to introduce himself with such an over exaggerated flair. Erilee hee-hawed madly in laughter.

So much for cool and threatening.

Larry could only stare blankly at the barbarian and wonder what the hell was going on. To say the least, she was bizarre. Perhaps he should try to run away while the deranged girl was still distracted…

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?!”

Larry froze, keenly aware that his discreet tip-toeing had been caught. With Erilee’s cold blade pressed against his neck, he was painfully reminded of his not-so-pleasant situation. “I was going to go… relieve myself.” He said weakly.

“Eugh, Belvarian men always have to pee,” Erilee scowled, not loosening her blade. She momentarily recalled the stable boy’s pants and cringed in disgust. “I don’t care if you have to pee; just hold your bladder! If you don’t—I kill you.”

Larry gave her a strange look.

“Now, Larry—explain yourself! How did you get my sword?”

Larry was still unsure whether or not he was intimidated by the girl; she seemed extremely bossy and demanding, yet kind of daft and stupid. Of course, this was a unique situation he found himself in. Hopefully, he thought, it would end soon. Right now, he just needed to bullshit his way through.

"Do you want the long version of the story or the short?” He asked her innocently.

“I don’t care!” Erilee growled madly. “Just tell me how you stole it and stop stalling!”

Larry Brown took a deep breath and prepared for some storytelling. He sighed and began: “Well, to tell the truth, I’m really no one special. My village was burned down by Viekrum during one of the raids and after that, I had to fend for my poor elderly mother and baby brother—”

Erilee gritted her teeth, allowing Larry to proceed.

“—poverty-stricken and no one willing to help. The desolation that befell my hometown was unthinkable. We were all—”

“I changed my mind!” Erilee gave in in exasperation, pressing her sword closer to the boy’s neck. “Just get to the point.”

Larry eyed the pointy edge almost poking into his delicate skin and wheezed in fright. He blurted it out quickly as if he were asking a question, desperately hoping she was satisfied with his answer. “I was just about to join the Belvarian army…” Wheeze. “And then I found your horse in the stables…?”

The Belvarian Army….

Erilee tilted her head.

The thought had never occurred to her that perhaps vengeance had multiple routes. She had to admit—infiltrating the Belvarian army sounded far nicer than genocide. Instead of decimating the entire elven population, she could instead spy on the elf.

And betray him.

Though, this “Larry Brown” character seemed far too shady to trust, Erilee decided to grasp fate’s tail and take her chances.

“You’re going to help me join the army.” She decided aloud.

Larry was suddenly taken aback; he wasn’t prepared to just allow this crazy stranger to order him around like a slave. He had dignity, and there was no way someone could force him to do anything against his free will.

“Why would I do that?” Larry burst in an angry act of defiance.

“Because I have a sword to your neck,” Erilee said in all obviousness. “Duh.”