Robin I

The musty smell of old parchment and dusty tomes from the library could smelt a hundred yards away on a good day. Rows upon rows of books of different sizes line the lacquered oak shelves. There are few windows in this library, but the few there are deeply set stained glass windows. Each represented a different member of the Three Sisters, creators of humanity. The west window is for Rel of Retribution, a mighty warrior dressed in black leathers carrying a black metal spear and a shield. The north window is for Azeal of Justice, an agent of justice who sought for the betterment of the world. She wears holy vestments of white and wears a veil across her eyes. The east window contains a depiction of Nairi of Truth; they wear a featureless white mask with their hands outstretched and their palms facing the floor. Small, dark marbled study tables are set up sporadically throughout the room.

A tall, scruffy, sandy colored haired human man in his twenties is seated at one of the marbled tables underneath the stained glass window of Rel of Retribution, surrounded by piles of dusty tomes. The well-worn long sleeved green tunic and his brown tweed riding pants fit tightly against his well-toned form. His deep blue eyes sleepily move from page to page of this particularly uninteresting history book about the beginnings of the runic carvings in arcane studies. The thunderous sound of wing beats draws his attention to the window as a flock of birds pass by.

“Where could she be? She was supposed to be here by midday.” He thinks to himself as he moves the book he was reading to the side, picking up the next in his pile. The clicking of heels against the floor drew his attention to the partially open doorway of the library. Sweat beads roll down his face as his eyes begin to widen. That sound. He knew it all too well. 

The Head Devil of the Imperial Palace is coming for him. His eyes dart from row to row for a place to hide. As he stands to run, Gretchen Shinal enters with a furrowed brow and the expression like a fuming boar. Her beady brown eyes scan the floor and lock onto the anxious looking man.

“Robin Zwil, you blasted child! Where is she!? Tell me now!” Gretchen screams at Robin, approaching surprisingly quickly for someone her age. “She’s not in the Palace! Answer me, Robin!”

“W-who? I- I don’t have a clue what you are talking about, ma’am.” Robin recedes into himself, flinching, and knocking over his stacks of books. He scrambles back further, hitting his chair, and falls over.

“The Princess, oh mighty steward! Your charge! Where is she!? Do NOT lie to me, Robin!” Gretchen continues to step closer, looking down on him, and points at him aggressively. Small bubbles of spit form at the creases of her lips. Robin could see her veins begin to perk up, filling with her boiling blood. “Her Grace brought you and your mother into this Palace out of the goodness of her heart when you were living in the squalor of that backwood hovel you used to call a home. Do not forget where you stand, child.”

“Ma’am, Addy to-” 

“To you, her name is Princess Adelaide!” Gretchen interrupts rudely.

“Ma’am, Princess Adelaide told me that she would meet me here at midday! I’m telling the truth! I swear to the Sisters!” Robin begs as he slowly stands back up to his full height. He towered over her by at least seven inches, but her personality stood taller than most when she is riled up like this.

“Fine, go find her and bring her back, fool! Prove your worth! I will be having words with Her Grace about this.” Gretchen storms off towards the doorway. Right before she exits, she turns and yells, “Pick up those books, Zwil! Treat the property of the Empire with more respect!”

She leaves with the same vigor as she did when she entered. Robin hears more yelling as Gretchen continues down the hall. He bends over, slowly and carefully placing the tomes onto the table once again. Robin lets out a large sigh. He grabs the books from the table and slowly replaces them onto their respective shelves. 

He knew where he had come from. He didn’t need this reminder. His mother, Rozelle, never let him forget this even when he was younger. She had always told him that they needed to be quiet and respectful, especially to the Empress, Princess, and Gretchen. His mother told him that he was an exceptionally smart boy when he was young, saying that he could remember every little thing. That, in fact, was the truth. Robin knew he was able to retain a large quantity of information about anything. His mother pushes him to become a scholar, but the thought of pouring his soul onto a page felt like a waste.

The stories Robin read as a kid were about the Knights of the Empire. Fearless, honorable heroes that were blessed by The Sister of Justice to know what was right and wrong. The greatest of those heroes still exists today, Sir Greer Devarl, Master of Warfare and Captain of the Empress’ Guard. He has slain beast after beast, enemy after enemy in service for the Realm.

When Addy began training at the age of seven with different weaponry, Sir Devarl was her master. Robin had attended every training session with his Princess and slowly learned by watching both of their movements. After four sessions of watching, Sir Devarl thrusted a sword into Robin’s hand and began to train both the Princess and him. He said, “It is hard work defending the Crown, but it’s nice to get all the help he could.” Sir Devarl smiled and Robin felt as if he had found a place to belong.

After finishing placing the last tome in its place, Robin ran down the western statue-filled hallways, down the steep stone stairs, and into the servants’ quarters. Maids, servants, cooks, and groundskeepers mill around frantically, preparing for the send off gala Empress Vivian was throwing for the Princess. He weaves and bobs through the frantic mess until he reaches the bedrooms in the back.

The room at the furthest corner of the hallway is where he and his mother called home. It was a humble dwelling with two windows, two beds, small fireplace, and a table with a solitary yellow posy on it. Robin reaches underneath his pillow, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of a hidden knife. He unsheathes the polished steel blade and smiles slightly. The cross-guard has small words masterfully carved into it: “For Protecting Adelaide.”

He straps the blade to his belt, grabs his satchel, and runs out of the room towards the Tower of the Archmage.

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Historical texts state that the Tower of the Archmage was built back when Wyster the First Empress was ruling. Historians still argue about the Tower’s construction. Some argue that it was built as a safehouse for magical artifacts, however more historians argue that The First Empress was enamored with the study of magic and built the tower as a holy temple to Vila, the Goddess of Magic. Nowadays, the Archmage of the Wysterian Empire calls the tower home. The red stone tower stands about sixty feet tall, consisting of seven floors for the seven disciplines of Magic. At its base, a door of red cedar has been embossed with large brass designs of vines. The brass twists around the door’s frame, almost making a variety of different symbols. 

Robin steps up towards the door, hesitating to knock. He had only been inside the tower a handful of times. When he had, he was with Addy and she did all the talking. The Archmage, Anjula Mahilo, was an interesting woman. She is quick witted, extremely knowledgeable in most of the arts, and an extremely powerful mage in her own right. The servants gossip about her being able to make illusions that border on the line of being real. If anyone knew where Addy was, it would be her.

As he raises his hand to knock, the brass designs twist with a loud KACHUNK. Cautiously, Robin takes a battle ready stance. The door swings open quickly, revealing a candlelit study surrounded by arcane tomes. Ornate plate mail armor stands at attention in alcoves that line the walls. On the right side of the room stands a tall, light colored wood staircase and several intricate tapestries depicting the stars are hung throughout. The gentle aroma of lavender, vanilla, and the faint scent of smoke wafts out of the Tower. Robin wasn't able to see anyone inside, nor anyone to answer his arrival. He stands there, waiting.

“By the Weave, boy, the door is open. Come in.” A woody, sylvan voice echoes throughout the chamber. The quickened steps down stairs intensify as Robin’s heart does. He slowly enters the towers, unsure what to expect. The door slams behind him and the sound of twisting metal locks back into place. Robin looks up towards the staircase as a tall half-elven woman with her mess of flaming red hair with golden highlights descends. She brushes her hair with a golden brush. Her royal blue robes, decorated with three black embroidered stars, hangs off her bronze shoulders loosely revealing a flowing, white underdress. A small, multicolored star-shaped pendant that sits on a silver circle hangs gently around her neck, bouncing as she walks down the steps. Her half-moon glasses rest on her forehead and her forest colored eyes looking over Robin with confusion. “Why have you come to my tower?”

“Mistress Mahilo, please forgive my intrusion. However, Princess Adelaide is no longer in the Palace.” Robin says flatly, bowing slightly. A bead of sweat rushes down the side of his face. “I was hoping to ascertain if you had any information on her whereabouts.”

“Robin, you’ve known me for almost eighteen years now. You can drop the formalities.” Anjula sarcastically replies as she approaches. She gestures for Robin to follow and walks towards the back of the room. “I have just woken up. What makes you think that I know where our Princess is?”

“Mistress, you are Addy’s-- I mean, you are Princess Adelaide’s closest confidant. Logically, that would make sense if you knew something about this.”

“Ah, I see now. Gretchen is on your ass about Addy’s disappearance, huh?” Anjula smirks as she sits down on a large cushioned chair nestled in the rows of bookshelves. With a flick of her wrist and a green flash of light, a small wooden stool appears next to Robin. “As long as I’ve known her, she’s always had some sort of superiority complex. That crone has tried to boss me around before and then I threatened her with not knowing what was real and what was an illusion. She didn’t bother me again, ha!”

Robin gives a dry, unnerved chuckle before meekly asking, “Ma’am, do you have any information about where Addy went?”

Anjula turns away from Robin, a sense of melancholy falls over Robin. She continues to brush her hair. “I cannot tell you because I do not know where she is.”

“Please. I need to find her.” Robin’s voice breaks. “I don’t know if she is safe or who she is with.”

“Addy talks to me about you, Robin. She trusts you.” Anjula turns back to face Robin after placing her brush onto one of the bookshelves. Her glowing green eyes pierce through Robin’s soul. A silent rage and small tears boils in Anjula’s eyes. “I trust you, but I do not share the same trust as my little owl does. She is precious to me and to the Empire. So if I did have information on her whereabouts, why would I share them with you?”

Robin had practically spent his entire life with the Princess, he knew almost everything about her. They had shared secrets and aspirations, but why didn’t Addy tell him this? He could perfectly remember the shape of her face, the color of her eyes, and her gentle loving smile. The pains in his heart could no longer go unnoticed. Staring at the red stone floor, Robin says, “I- I understand, Mistress, however I have been at her side for a very long time. I have never been a detriment to her or her position. I have been a faithful steward and a faithful…friend to her. I know she is leaving for her military service tomorrow, but I cannot afford to have her hurt before she goes.”

Robin lifts his head slowly, where once was a soul piercing gaze remains a gentle remorseful look. Anjula pauses for a brief moment and she lets out a deep sigh. “Does she know?”

“No.”

“I understand your resolve, Robin.” Anjula stands, motions for Robin to follow, and heads back towards the entrance to the Tower. When Robin stands up, he feels as if a weight has been lifted off his chest. However, a new one seems to have taken its prior spot.

Anjula continues to speak as they walk toward the door. She plucks a small book off one of the shelves and hands it to Robin.“I do not admit any guilt nor do I know where she is, however, Addy said ‘I want to see the wonders and the people of the city.’ Make of it what you will, Robin.”

Robin looks down at the small red book, titled, “The Legend of Osterona.” He smirks and puts the book into his satchel. Anjula reaches for the door, stopping but a few inches from the doorknob. He shifts his head to see what is keeping Anjula from opening the doors. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

“I don’t necessarily agree with her mother’s parenting style. By sequestering Addy inside of the Palace, her mother has effectively diminished any skills that good and just rulers ought to have. The hardest truths about our reality are hidden from our Princess. She is still naïve, Robin.” Anjula’s tone softens. She didn’t need to turn towards him for Robin to know what expression was on her face. She pulls the door open and sunlight pours into the Tower once again. “Go. Find her and bring her home.”

Robin gives the Archmage his thanks before running through the Palace and its gates into the expansive city.

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Robin knew the city of Wyster for what it truly was; a corrupted wonderland. In such a massive city, with a population of nearly ten thousand citizens, people from all walks of life call this city home. Mercenaries who only care for gold and con artists preying on the weak, it’s no wonder corruption spread its ugly wings here. While there are places of beauty and order, such as the First Library of Wyster and the Chapel of the Three Sisters, it seems like new trouble is freshly brewed on a daily basis. Empress Vivian tries her best to impose order onto the city through the city guard, but rumors of corrupt guards were too easily spread throughout the lower districts. According to Sir Greer, these ruffians demand coin from the citizens they were supposed to protect and beat them if they didn’t pay. Sir Greer has been trying to bring these ruffians to the Empress’ justice, but it seemed like these crimes had soured the public’s perception of the city guard. 

The sun has passed its crest, slowly heading to its resting place in the west. A gentle breeze pushes past Robin, carrying a scent of peach pie. Robin gives one last look at the Imperial Palace before embarking. The intricately carved black stone walls of the Palace fill Robin with inspiration every time he sees them. They inspire him to strive for the highest peaks he can reach and to go beyond his own limits. The Royal Family and their knights stood as paragons of justice. Robin turns back to the road, wishing he could one day stand with them.

The Imperial District is the only district in Wyster that didn’t have a lot of foot traffic, occasionally a carriage or a patrol of guards would pass through. Robin scans the citizens passing by, those heading into the different shops, and a dark iron spear hanging in a shop window catches his eye. As he approaches the window of the shop, Robin hears the sound of whimpering coming from a nearby alley.

Peering into the alleyway, Robin can just barely make out two figures in chainmail shirts standing over a woman with midnight colored hair who seems to be clutching a covered wicker basket. The taller chainmail clad person wears a silver helmet emblazoned with a wisteria branch and sword crossing over one another, curly gray-brown hair pokes out at the bottom of the helmet, and they are carrying a longsword and manacles on their back. The smaller figure wears the same emblems as their compatriot, but they carry a leather quiver full of arrows and a wooden shortbow on their backs. A moment of realization washes over Robin. These must be some of the ruffian guards that Sir Greer mentioned.

“You think you are so good looking, don’t you? With your pretty face and your long black hair?” The taller guard spits out in a higher feminine voice, pacing back and forth in front of the black haired woman. The woman on the ground coughs out something unintelligible and it just seemed to make the taller guard angrier. The taller guard pulls back her leg in preparation for a hefty kick. Robin knew he cannot just sit by and watch this unfold. Sir Greer would not, so nor would Robin.

“Hey! What are you doing!?” Robin yells down the alleyway, startling the two guards. He slowly approaches the guard duo with a hand on his knife. The two guards face towards him and he was able to finally get a look at their faces. Slowly, it dawns on him. Robin knew both of these guards, they had escorted Adelaide through the Palace several times. The taller guard, Leslie, was a middle aged human woman whose rosy face could not hide the overwhelming scent of alcohol. The smaller guard, Art, was a crimson skinned fiendling man who seemed like he was a good guy from the brief time Robin had spent with him. Robin commands, “Step away from the lady, now!”

“Who are you supposed to be?” Leslie drunkenly blurts back at Robin. She lets loose her kick into the woman’s stomach. Art stays silent, studying Robin. “Stop interrupting our interrogation.”

“Interrogation? This isn’t an interrogation. This is abuse!” Robin takes a step closer to Art. His hand remains on the hilt of his knife. “I just heard you say, ‘You think you are so good looking, don’t you’ to this poor woman.”

Art turns towards Leslie, draws his bow, and says, “He’s seen too much, hasn’t he? Maybe he needs to be taught to be quiet.”

“Yeah, he should.” Leslie says with contempt in her voice. With a quick flourish, Leslie unsheathes her longsword and points it at Robin. “You’re gonna regret this, kid.”

An arrow passes by Robin’s head, embedding itself into the wooden building behind him. With unnaturally sober steps, Leslie rushes towards Robin with her sword raised over her head. Robin could feel the adrenalin course through his veins, however he didn’t pull his blade. He knows if he wanted to bring these “guards” to justice that he would need to subdue them with as little damage as possible. The only possible option is to keep them guessing where he was going to strike and keep them off balance. 

Taking a deep breath, Robin puts his fists up, guarding close to his chest and the bottom of his chin, and readies himself for the impending overhead slash. Robin had seen this attack too many times in his training with Sir Greer. It is a staple in Sir Greer’s fighting style to overwhelm your opponent with your strength. 

Leslie’s hands are barely wrapped around the hilt of the blade as she takes a wild swing down vertically at Robin. A quick side step allows Robin to aim for the perfect spot for disarming Leslie. Robin rotates his body towards the right, shifting his weight onto his leading foot, pulling his right arm keeping it leveled with his shoulder, and throws the hefty rear hook squarely into Leslie’s wrist. With a yelp, Leslie’s sword is knocked from her hands, clattering to the floor ten feet away.

“That really hurt, asshole!” Leslie stumbles backwards. Art takes aim once again, letting another arrow fly. Robin reels back in pain as the arrow imbeds itself into his left shoulder. A small trickle of blood warms the inside of Robin’s arm. Hesitantly, Robin reaches for the arrow and with all his strength, he yanks the arrow from his arm. Robin looks at the arrow with disdain and luckily, the arrowhead came out intact. As he drops the arrow, Robin looks up at his opponents. Leslie’s rosy face scrunches with drunken anger, leaving behind any trace of discipline or honor. “That’s it!”

Leslie throws her helmet off and charges relentlessly, throwing punches sloppily. Robin adeptly dodges the first two punches. With a growing confidence, Robin throws a haphazard punch to Leslie’s gut. She sidesteps the blow, grabbing onto his arm, and punches Robin squarely in his nose. Holding Robin’s arm, Leslie rains blow after blow on him. Blood gushes from Robin’s nose as he tries to block the raining blows.

“Les, stop. I remember now.” Art’s eyes light up and he lifts his hands over his head. Leslie twists Robin’s arm, pulling it behind his back, and forcing him onto his knees. Robin slowly focuses on where Art’s voice was coming from. Art sneers as he pulls out another arrow, “His name is Robin and he serves that bitch of a Princess. He’s just a servant who’s pretending to be a noble knight.”

“What did you say about our Princess!?” Robin spits back with rage boiling in his veins. The midnight haired woman slowly raises her head to look at Robin. He could see her green eyes stare back at him woefully. Art knocks the arrow, giggling to himself.

“He said that the Princess is a bitch, you weakling. Always acting holier than thou by staying in the Palace.” Leslie whispers into Robin’s ear with vitriol. She grabs onto his shoulder.“The whole royal family is corrupt. They hoard gold to pay for their extravagant parties and all the other shit they don’t need. They don’t care about their citizens, so why should I?”

“Princess Adelaide and Empress Vivian care about the Empire. They have created crucial infrastructure like the roads to the southwest border. Empress Vivian even followed the tradition of building a new town on her thirty birthday for anyone to live at. I know both the Princess and Empress want the Empire to continue to grow in prosperity.” Robin defiantly snaps back at Leslie. He believes in what he said, but Robin knows he needs more time to formulate a plan to get the midnight haired woman to safety.

“Well, you have the conviction. I’ll give you that, Robin.” Art draws the bowstring, readying his shot. The woman’s scowling face slowly turns into one of solemn duty and nods slightly. “Sorry about this, but you’ve seen too much to let go. Hold him down, Les.”

The midnight haired woman quickly flips onto her back, turning her head away from Art, and kicks both of her feet into the back of Art’s knees. As Art loses his balance, the nocked arrow shoots up into a window above Leslie’s head, shattering the glass. Leslie shields her head from any falling pieces of glass, letting go of Robin in the process. With a quick turn, Robin throws a devastating uppercut into Leslie’s chin. Leslie hits the ground with a dizzied expression. Grabbing her manacles, Robin locks her right arm behind her back attached to her left leg. 

As Robin turns back to face Art, he finds the midnight haired woman standing over Art with a leg on Art’s chest. The pain from his shoulder and face finally caught up to him, but he couldn’t let it show. Robin stands up and walks towards the woman. Cautiously, Robin asks, “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’m pretty sure a couple of my ribs are bruised, but I’m gonna be okay. How about ya?” The midnight haired woman asks in response. She reaches down grabbing her wicker basket and a small meow squeaks out of the basket. An adult black cat pokes its head out of the basket. Its orange eyes scan over the area, seemingly like it is taking in the scene. Its eyes finally land on Robin. “Oh, my poor little guy! Were you okay in there, Needle?”

“You had a cat in there?” A concerned look stretches over Robin’s face. A cat? Who is this woman? The longer he thought about this woman and her cat, the more questions surfaced. 

“And a pie.” She lifts the cover revealing a full peach pie.

Robin gestures to the unconscious guards, “I don’t mean to pry, but what did they want with you?

“Well, Leslie smelt like booze and insecurity and Art smelt like booze and an inflated sense of self-importance. So at this point, take your pick.” The woman laughs as she approaches Robin. She stands at least a head and a shoulder beneath Robin, her long midnight colored hair looks freshly cleaned, and the scent of peaches takes complete control of Robin’s sense of smell. She holds out her right hand towards Robin. He gingerly shakes her hand. She graciously says, “Thank you for helping me out of the rather unfortunate situation. My name is Missy.”

“Ah, my name is Rob-”

“Your name is Robin, you work for the Princess. No need to introduce yourself. These oafs did for you already.” Missy cuts in. Robin gently pets Needle behind their ears. “So, you’re the type of guy who just helps because you want to? Why?”

“I- well, it’s the right thing to do. Princess Adelaide and I were taught by our teacher to always help the defenseless and the subjugated. I couldn’t let anything happen to you, ma’am.” Robin gently smiles as he walks towards Art. Luckily, Art was unconscious. Robin slowly flips him over manacling his arms behind him. “That was quite the kick you delivered.”

“Thanks, but I mean you need to learn how to fight in this city.” Missy responses sarcastically. She walks towards Leslie, delivering a swift kick to her stomach. Leslie lets out a noncoherent groan as Missy spits on her, “Asshole.”

“So, where are you heading? I could escort you there if you’d like.” Robin offers with sincerity. He stands up, pursing his lips together. He knows he needs to continue his search for Princess Adelaide, but he couldn’t leave Missy stranded or leave the corrupt guards alone.

“I’m, well, on my way to the Palace. A friend of mine told me that there was an opening in the kitchens for a pastry chef. I work in a pie shop down on Bakery Row, so I thought I’d try my hand at it.” Missy bashfully says as she walks towards Robin. She gently places a hand onto Robin’s arm, looking into his eyes. Robin could feel his face growing red. “Would you escort me to the Palace, please?”

“I will, however I have a task of my own to accomplish. Oh and I still need to transport Leslie and Art to the proper authorities at the Palace.” Robin explains as he tries to calm down.

“Sure, whatever you need, Robin.” Missy smiles shyly. “I’ll wait for you on the main road.

As Missy walks away, Robin quickly rushes over to Leslie and Art preparing them for transportation. His heart feels as if it were going to jump from his chest. He can’t identify what this feeling was. Is it fear? Anxiety? Or something else entirely? There is only one other person who made Robin feel like this. Robin shakes his head, getting these feelings out of his mind. After getting them up, he rejoins Missy on the main thoroughfare.

“You ready?” Missy asks with a small smile on her face.

“Yeah, let’s go before they pass out again.” Robin retorts.

As Robin and Missy walk up the road, Robin notices Missy inching closer and closer to him. He assumes that she was just feeling unsafe and wants some form of comfort. He certainly didn’t mind it. He felt like he was an actual knight, like Sir Greer. Their walk is silent and calming, but it is quick.

Two armed guards stand at the gates of the Palace, watching the pair as they tow their prisoners to the gate. Robin stops about five feet away from the guards and turns towards Missy, “I know the guards, let me talk to them alone really quick.”

After a brief conversation with guards, Robin hands the prisoners over to them. As one of the guards escorts them away, Robin saunters back towards Missy and something bubbles to the forefront of his mind. “Hey Missy, where did you hear about this job? Did they tell you to meet with someone here?”

“Oh, a friend of mine told me about this opportunity. She told me to meet with someone named Gretchen Shinal.” Missy explains nonchalantly, pushing the hair out of her eyes. A friend? Robin knows that Gretchen was looking for a chef for the last couple days, but he hasn’t heard this from anyone else in the kitchens. The only other person would have to be…

“What was your friend’s name?” Robin inquisitively asks, hoping further prodding would yield an answer.

“She asked me not to say anything. I can’t, I’m sorry.” Missy shrugs her shoulders with a forced smile on her face. Robin closes the gap between them, placing his hands on Missy’s wrists. He can feel himself slowly becoming flustered.

“This is important. Please, what’s her name?” Robin reiterates a little more forcibly. Missy glances at his hands on her wrists, then back up at his face. Her green eyes briefly glimmer in the light.

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you, but you need to promise to me that you will not say anything to her about this.” Missy frustratedly says while biting her bottom lip. “Her name is Addison. She came into my bakery and we got to know each other. When she was leaving, she told me about coming here for a position.”

“Addison?” Robin shakes his head in disappointment. How could she choose a name so similar to her own? “Did she have brown hair? Green eyes? Freckles?”

“Yeah, all of those. Plus some weird tattoos on her hands.” Missy continues. “Do you mind letting go of my wrists, please?”

Robin glances down at her wrists and he finds his hands tightly wrapped around her wrists. He brings his hands back to his side and he can feel his face growing red. As Robin looks back up at Missy, her cheeks are starting to fill with a rosy red color. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Are you okay?”

“It’s alright.” Missy gently whispers with a genuine smile on her still red face. Needle pokes his face out of the basket, letting out a long meow. Missy seems to snap back into reality. She fixes her long, dark hair and wipes the dust off of her clothing. “Well, I should get going. It was very nice meeting you, Robin.”

Robin holds his hand out to her again, smiling slightly. She grasps his hand firm and tight. Robin, finally regaining his composure, gleefully says, “Hopefully, I’ll see you inside. Good luck!”

Robin waves his goodbyes to Missy as she runs up the road to the Palace. He wonders if she would be able to survive the brutal interview that Gretchen would inevitably give to her. She seems to be strong enough to withstand it. Now, it’s back to the task at hand.

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The last time Robin took the beauty of the loch must have been at least six months ago when the Empress hosted a fishing event for the public. The cerulean waters of Osterona never ceases to amaze him. What also amazed him was the amount of people that nestled onto this ten mile coastal stretch. Even though it is the turn of the summer to autumn, hundreds if not thousands surround the northern shores. Salespeople bombard Robin as he scans the shores, looking for the Princess.

About an hour passes, Robin notices a hooded figure standing on a grassy patch. This figure wasn’t looking out at the water, but down on the ground. What could they be looking at? As Robin takes a few more steps closer, his eyes widen and sweat starts to roll down the back of his neck. Sitting at the hooded figure’s feet lies an unconscious woman. Her wavy, chestnut colored hair is tangled and matted, her clothing is lightly covered in mud, and her right hand slightly glowing with violet runic marks.

“Addy...” Robin says under his breath. He notices the hooded figure squat down towards Adelaide, grabbing both of her hands. Before Robin could realize it, he is already sprinting towards Addy and the hooded figure. His feet can feel the mud cling to the soles of his boots, slowing him down. His heart feels like it is skipping beats the closer and closer he gets. Ten feet. Five feet.

“Get off of her!” Robin yells as he runs into the hooded figure pushing them off of Addy. The hooded figure is shoved five feet into the water, yelping in distress as they are submerged. Robin glances over Addy’s unconscious form, trying to find any injuries. Her hands. Robin grabs her right hand, turning the palm facing him. A four to five inch gash lies in the palm of her hand. As the violet light dissipates, the gash knits itself back together leaving no trace of the wound.

Looking back at the hooded figure, Robin sees the figure reach to their hood and tear it off as they sit up out of the water. A pale skinned, young half-elvish woman pushes the long wet strands of silver hair out of her eyes, tucking them behind her pointed elvish ears. Small runic tattoos are etched underneath her right weather-beaten brown eye. Her mouth turns into a scowl as Robin looks over her. “Why in the hells did you do that?”

“What were you doing?” Robin stands upright, placing a hand on his dagger. “Were you hurting her?”

“What? Hurting her? No!” The Half-Elf yells back. She slowly rises out of the water and starts walking towards Robin, although keeping a healthy distance away. Robin tracks her with his eyes, ready for anything. “I saw her collapse after she came out of the water. I was only checking on her, you creep.”

Robin softens his guard a bit and relaxes his shoulders. He puts his hands back at his side as the Half-Elf walks past him. She glances back over her shoulder at Adelaide. A feeling of guilt washes over Robin. “I apologize for pushing you. She’s my little sister and I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

The Half-Elf scoffs as she walks away. Over her shoulder, her voice softens with genuine worry and says, “I wouldn’t move her until she wakes up. Just to be on the safe side.”

Robin watches the Half-Elf walk away, disappearing into the crowds. He looks back at Adelaide, brushing the loose strands of hair out of her face. Robin smiles gently as he pulls out the book Mistress Anjula gave him and begins to read.

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