Queen, Lover, Bitch. (PsionicCuttlefish and MacaronMaven)

Lady Kaevri, Queen of Cheilshiell and Empress of the realm of Man, was curled up asleep in a pile of dirty hay. The most powerful woman in the land wore wool riding trousers and a simple linen blouse, both stained by mud and rabbit's blood. Her long dark hair, inspiration for at least five songs, was braided and knotted into a coarse bun. Sticks of hay clung to her majesty's person like the hands of beggars to a rich woman's skirts.
This was not the first time she had slept on a straw mattress, before the fall of Cheilshiell she had gone on impromptu 'adventures' that sometimes required her to bed down in humble places. Those nights had always been more rewarding for the chill. She could prove her strength to herself on a lumpy bed, then go home in the morning and let the hand-maidens fret over her health. They had always seemed like silly hens to Kaevri. Her health had held for years, and she always felt stronger after a good romp in the woods. Of course, one night out was drastically different from twenty.
Her whole body ached. Though they stayed to the roads, the wagon jumped and jolted on every rut. Even filling the bed with hay hadn't been enough of a cushion. Days ago she had found a willow tree and made bitter tea from the bark. The tea had helped a little, but she had given the last of the willow bark to her Lord Husband just this morning.
"Wake up." A sudden blow on her back jerked the small woman out of her troubled dreams. "The 'food' is done."
From the sneer in his voice it was obvious what Lord Kenaiwan thought of their current diet. Rabbit stew was certainly not something they would have found on their table in the palace, but Kaevri rather liked the rustic flavor. Or she had, before eating nothing but rabbit for more than two weeks. She winced as she sat up and nodded to her husband. He preferred her quiet and she didn't feel strong enough for words right now anyway.
Kenaiwan was still handsome, she supposed, after the fashion of the nobility. Tall and lean with wide shoulders, he had the perfect silhouette for the new style of ceremonial armor. What a pity he had never worn it. His ear-length auburn hair was lank and greasy now, the curls that so many of her maids had swooned over had vanished after the first rain. Kaevri had always thought that they looked unnatural. Her husband's beard was growing in in patches, making his face look even more filthy in the dimming light.
He held a wooden bowl and frowned down at it as though he wanted to put it's family to death but couldn't decide how to execute them. Kaevri knew better than to assume that he was bringing her share. Still aching from his punch, she hoisted herself over the side of the wagon and imagined that she could hear her joints creaking. The sudden movement made her head swim, and the deposed queen was forced to hold the muddy wagon wheel until her dizziness passed. Even streaked with mud, her hand stood out like a ghost in the firelight. This fact frightened her more than she cared to admit. It seemed that her most recent illness had stolen her color as well as her strength, leaving Kaevri a weak and white specter of her former self. Undoubtedly her doctors would have had some theory, if they were present.
Kaevri sat on a rock as close as she could get to the campfire without lighting herself ablaze, and served herself a small portion of the stew. The broth was bland, but wonderfully warm and she blessed it for that fact.

As the fallen King and Queen ate their humble meal around the campfire, there was the rustling of footsteps nearby. But before they could panic, a voice called out quietly to them. "It's me, I'm coming in." Slowly, a man stepped into the makeshift camp far enough to be illuminated by the fire. He was a man in his prime, late-twenties and strongly built. He had a broad, powerful build, almost rippling with muscles from the years of warfare he'd experienced. He had a number of scars on his body, hidden by his clothes, though one pale line was visible going up the left side of his neck and jaw to his cloven-in-half ear. He had dusty brown hair and a short, scraggly beard, with his face as travelstained as his companion's. With unusually striking blue eyes, he kept watch over his charges to keep them safe. He was dressed in light armor made of boiled leather, though his chest was protected by a dull, scuffed steel breastplate, and a few other parts of his body guarded with other scraps from his platesuit that had been far too large, heavy, and impractical to travel with all together. He had chosen the pieces for the most critical protection and ease of donning, but at the pace they were making, he was considering ditching the breastplate, too. A strong longsword, the best he could get his hands on before the flight from the capital city, was in a sheath buckled to his hip.

Morthain sighed as he regarded the King and Queen, the people for whom it was his sworn duty to keep alive at any and all cost. He knew they weren't going to like this. "I've scouted the perimeter as best as I can, but...this is a less-safe location to camp in than we have been. There are too many avenues of approach and I can't cover them all." He paused for a moment, staving off the bad news for just a second. "We can't stay here. You should finish eating as soon as you can, then try to get a few hours of shut-eye. I'll keep watch for a few hours shift, but then I'm going to need to wake you during the night to get the carriage and horses moving again, while get what sleep I can in the carriage until morning."

He looked over to Lady Kaevri, seeing that she was still pale, not that he had expected any improvement. He hated pushing her like this, he knew how much hell it had to be on her, but...from what reports he could gather from the towns they passed and what his own tracking skills told him, the Llarrl forward scouts had passed them already, and the army wasn't far behind. If they didn't keep moving, they'd be caught for sure.

The knight and and former brigade commander took a seat near the campfire as well, and served up some stew for himself to eat a little quicker than normal. After getting half of it down, he looked up over the fire to see the beaten faces of his lord and lady, and tried to offer them some hope. "The fifth and eighth brigades should have managed to get a retreat organized from the city, they know the contingency is to head to the Eastern Province, and regroup with the seventh and tenth brigades. Once we get to the Eastern Province, this flight will be over, you can take command of the local courts and I can lead the armies to organize a defence. We just have to make it across the border." He knew it was a dangerous thing, offering hope to people in a doomed situation, but they weren't soldiers. They couldn't be expected to have the hardened soul of one, they needed to be handled differently to keep their morale up. While Morthain wasn't sure they were going to make it, he knew they definitely wouldn't if they didn't have anything to look forward to and gave in to hopelessness.

The knight looked back and forth between Kaevri and Kenaiwan. He had a suspicion that his lord had sent him on his fifth tour of duty in the Northern Province and the Llarrl defense campaign out of spite, because the knight had made friends with the lady to whom the king was wed when he returned to the city to do so. Incidentally, if anything, it might actually prove to be their salvation; Morthain was one of the most experienced veterans in the Empire, and had seen almost every trick of the wolf-men-beasts. Still, Morthan couldn't resent Kenaiwan. The King was his master in every regard, just as much as the Queen was. He looked back to her frail form, again frowning inside at her illness and how the harsh travel had done nothing except maybe make it worse. He cared about her. All those months he got to know her when he was part of her honor guard, he found her to be an amazingly spirited woman. The shadows of...impure thoughts had occasionally crossed his mind back then, but he always forced them out and focused on his duty and loyalty. And now, his duty was to get them out of reach of the advancing Llarrl forces. Even if he didn't think as highly of Kenaiwan as he did of Kaevri, Morthain was prepared to fight to his dying breath to save them.

Kenaiwan snorted derisively and picked at his food. Morthain was right that he didn't like the situation, but at least the King had the good sense not to argue. The soldier was the only reason that they had survived the escape, and they all knew it. Not even Kenaiwan's pride could change that fact.

"East." The once-handsome king sniffed in disdain. "Those goat-farmers barely know what end of a sword to hold. Building an army from that lot will be more difficult than routing these dogs in the first place."

"The eastern provinces are a standard rally-point, I believe." Kaevri spoke quietly, bottle-green eyes flicking up from her bowl to examine Morthain's scarred face. Something was wrong. Well, alright, more wrong than it had been an hour before. Not much had been going right for her, over the last few months. Still, there was a tightness around her former guard's eyes, as though they wanted to wrinkle in worry but didn't dare. She knew the expression remarkably well. How many times had he made that face when she forced him on an 'adventure'? That first time she got them lost in the woods... Well, the memory made her smile now, but at the time he had made a very similar face.

Those had been good days. Kaevri had always struggled with this phantom illness, but she had been well for years by the time Morthain had been assigned to her. Morthain had been the first guard she had that was anywhere near her own age, and with so many of her other companions settling down to have children or marry, he was a natural replacement. In the beginning she had deliberately tested him. She pushed the limits of her privilege just to see how far he would let her go before dragging her back to the palace. When he never forced her into behaving, he earned himself a permanent role as her companion. The princess herself was not immune to 'impure thoughts' and Kaevri had never bothered to push them back. It was such a sweet fantasy, running away to live with him in the woods or someday finding out that Morthain was her mysterious betrothed in disguise. These daydreams had sustained her through so many boring banquets. How childishly silly they seemed to her now!

"That's right, but only because the border is closer to the capitol than the southern coast." Kenaiwan's voice ripped her attention back to the issue at hand. Perhaps she had not grown past her daydreaming habit after all. "I suppose there's no choice in the matter. If that is were my armies are, that is simply where they are. Bah! Even goat would be better than this."

The king dumped the remainder of his dinner into the brush and stomped off, presumably to get his few hours of sleep. Kaevri watched her husband go and only started eating again when he was safely bedded down. She ate meticulously, silently, until Kenaiwan's breathing was regular enough to indicate sleep.

"Please don't lie to me." She whispered, resting a hand on Morthain's knee. "I know we can't be outrunning them. He is too lost without his reports and charts to see it, but... would it be safer to loose the horses and hide the carriage?"

Morthain didn't interrupt as the King made his own comments on the situation. It wasn't exacly ideal to be escorting a man with an ego on a high-stakes cross-country escape, but said man was the King, and so it was Morthain's solemn duty to make the best of the situation he could, and in this case, that involved not provoking or antagonizing the man. He watched the king-in-exile leave the campfire in a huff and go off to sleep on his own. Morthain sighed.

As the knight returned to his own meal, he noticed Kaevri scooting to sit by his side. He didn't make any motions when she placed her hand on his knee. Wistfully, he thought about how he longed to place his hand on hers, for comfort, but he couldn't. He never had. To do so would be a serious breach of protocol. He looked up into Kaevri's face as she spoke to him, managing to divine in her queenly mysterious ways how he had been hiding something. When she suggested leaving the horses and carriage, Morthain's face twisted into a pained wince.

"My Lady...under other circumstances, I might have done that already, it does stand somewhat of a chance. Or it would have..." Morthain said slowly. "...but, you're far too ill to cover on foot the distances we have to at the speeds we must. We'll never make it like that. Keeping with the carriage, for now, is the next-best chance." Morthain then turned his head to look into the fire. There was still something he hadn't said, but after a moment of thought, he picked up a different tack. "Maybe...just maybe, we could leave the carriage, but stay with the horses. We have two of them. You could ride with me or our Lord, but...we'd all be riding bareback over a significant distance anyway. I'm not sure that's enough of an improvement over walking for you." The knight finished, as he looked down into his mostly-empty bowl, not up to eating the last bites at the moment. He didn't want to tell her in how much danger they really were. There was a chance--slim, but there--that he could get them through this as they were going, but if they knew just how close it would be...he feared that nerve might fail them in a crucial moment. He had to protect them in any and every way he could...even from their own fears, if necessary.

Kaevri pursed her lips in disappointment. She had expected his answer, she would have to be stupid not to, but she had hoped that he would have been more daring. She was slowing them down and it might just kill them all. Oddly, as little as the queen wanted to die, she found the thought much less horrifying than some of the alternatives. Certainly, Kenaiwan's only claim to the throne was through her, but he was a more qualified leader. And Morthain... well, she felt nauseous just thinking about the possibility.
"It isn't so bad as it seems. The outdoors has always been my preferred treatment, you know that. In fact, I felt very much improved after the first night out." She smiled up at him as bravely as she could muster. It wasn't a lie, she was not nearly so ill as she should be, given the circumstances. Of course, she wasn't about to go sprinting down the road either. "Don't be afraid to push harder. I can handle much more than it would seem."
Her voice dropped even lower, until she had to lean towards her guardsman just to make sure she was heard. Kenaiwan was a deep sleeper, but she did not want to risk his wrath by waking him. And she didn't want to share such an intimate conversation with her husband.
"I don't think I could forgive myself if you were... hurt because you were too busy coddling me." Kaevri met his eyes very briefly before staring back at the fire. Her hand still rested on his knee.

Morthain turned his head to look back at Kaevri as she insisted she wasn't as bad off as he thought. He had to admit, after twenty days zigzagging around the countryside with inadequate supplies to avoid Llarrl forces, he didn't expect that Kaevri would still be able to stand on her own unassisted by now, but she did still seem capable of most normal functions, if not particularly quick or deft with her actions. He began to reconsider things in his head after her words, before she leaned in closer to him, closer than was appropriate, to whisper to him what her own fear was.

Morthain's eyes widened slightly, but then he closed them with a sigh. "M'lady...it is my sworn duty to ensure the safety of you and your husband to the best of my ability, at any and all cost..." He whispered back quitely, while opening his eyes to look back at Kaevri with a sombre expression. "...and if that cost happens to include my life at any time, so be it. I don't resent this, I am grateful for my purpose in life. But please, M'lady, do not...do not say that it..." he trailed off, trying and failing to formulate how to say what he wanted to say in a way that would not hurt her. Instead, he turned his head to look back into the fire with her, and returned to considering the situation.

After several moments of silence, with the only sound being the crackle of the embers dying down, Morthain spoke again while still looking into the dimming fire. "We will leave the carriage, and take the horses directly." He said, arriving at a new resolution. "It will be hard for us all, especially you as you'll no longer have something soft and level to rest on, but...the better speed and mobility we'd have without the carriage would be a good improvement. We'll have to find saddles, or at least some thick blankets as soon as possible, however." He could still feel Kaevri's hand, so comforting and gentle, resting on his knee. He almost wished they could just stay like this, it was almost pleasant even in the face of danger how they could just be close to each other. But she needed her rest, as much of as possible if she was going to be riding a horse...and possibly leading his own, as Morthain would have to try and sleep on horseback.

"You should...really get some rest now, M'lady. I'll keep a watch out and get things ready to go, and I'll wake you and your husband when we have to leave." Morthain said as he looked away from the fire back to Kaevri.

"I suppose we must compromise, if neither of us are willing to concede the issue." She patted his knee playfully and her lips twisted in a half-smothered, mischievious smirk. "We will just have to make it to safety without either of us being hurt. There is no other way."

Despite her lighthearted declaration, the queen fidgetted on her rock. Her green eyes flitted to the carriage occasionally and she seemed reluctant to go rest. In truth, Kaevri was simply unwilling to move away from the fire's warmth. Though the hay was deep and her husband slept nearby, nights could be horribly chilly. If she slept closer to Kenaiwan, their shared body heat would make the cold much less harsh. However...

"I don't suppose you have anything that I could help with?" Wistful, she wondered how different this flight would be without her husband. Oddly enough, she thought that it would be much more pleasant. Perhaps it would even be a little fun! Like all the times she had gotten them 'lost' in the woods south of the city. Someday she would have to confess that most of those adventures had been deliberate plots to get him to let her stay outside the palace gates longer. Well, if he hadn't made the connection between diplomatic banquets and the disappearance of his maps.

Kenaiwan stirred, rustling the hay and forcing Kaevri's attention back to the cart. Morthain was correct, of course. The trip was about to be much less pleasant; she would be wise to sleep while she had the chance.

"Wake me early. Or Lord Kenaiwan. One of us can take a few hours' watch once everything is prepared." She sighed in resignation and set her bowl down on the ground. It was Kenaiwan's turn to wash the dishes, but he had (naturally) gone to sleep before anyone else had eaten. Tonight she would leave them for him, not even a king should shirk his chores. "You need your rest just as badly as I do. If you collapse and fall off your horse, who will protect me?"
With a wink and a tender smile, Kaevri returned to the carriage to bed down. She made a small nest-like indentation for herself, as far from her husband as she could manage.

Morthain just shrugged at Kaevri's jokes about conceding and 'having' to get out unharmed. Really, he had just re-evaluated the odds, and the pros and cons with new information to come to a new conclusion. It certainly wasn't an exact science, but Morthain was just going by whatever he felt had the best chance of getting them out alive without losing any one of them along the way. He was somewhat glad she did seem lighthearted, or at least put on an act of it, because that meant she still had her morale and hopes up. As he thought before, though dangerous, that was important.

The knight shook his head in response to the question if Kaevri could help with anything. There wasn't going to be much to do, and he'd be better off handling it all himself. Besides, despite how much the exile had humbled them already, it still wasn't the place of royalty expend effort over any simple, meanial tasks if it could be avoided. As for her last request, he just said "Don't worry, I've already been through worse on my five tours in the Northern defense." Not much worse, but still... "I can take care of myself enough to spare for you and your husband."

He watched her go and get into the carriage to sleep, after which he waited until he could hear her drifting off before he got up to start cleaning up what few things they had for their 'camp'. There wouldn't be enough time for someone to take a shift after him anyway. Knowing that the advance scouts had already passed, Morthain knew the Llarrl main army was less than half a day's march behind them, maybe only a few hours. Morthain put out the embers from the fire, and then spent those few hours packing up their most essential supplies in a few bags. Even though he couldn't adequately patrol the area, he did so anyway to the best of his ability, while making sure to use various tricks he knew to mask the evidence they had been there and hide their scents, or redirect the scents elsewhere.

After an all-too-short time of about four hours, Morthain started knocking lightly on the wood of the carriage while sticking his head in to wake up its occupants. "M'lord, M'lady, it's time. We have to go, now." He said as he waited for them to come to their senses. Once he was sure they were reasonably coherant, Morthain looked at Kenaiwan. "M'lord, there's been a necessary change of plans. The Llarrl are catching up to us, we're not making enough progress. We have to abandon the carriage, and ride on our two horses directly. We can go faster and take more narrow shortcuts off the main roads that way." The knight calmly explained, providing justification for the yet more bad news he had to deliver to the king. "It's going to be difficult for us all, especially your wife, I know, but it must be done. She is also going to have to ride on the horse I do...as I am low on rest myself and will have to get some shut-eye on horseback while we ride. I can do that, I've done that before, but without a proper saddle to keep me strapped in, I need someone to guide my horse and let me hang onto them in my rest so I don't fall. We'll need to keep an eye out for any place we pass that we might be able to get decent saddles from."

Morthain had already separated the horses from the carriage and had them ready to go as best as they should be, with the bags of absolutely necessary supplies on the ground beside them, all ready for them to just take what they need and leave the rest behind. As the royalty disembarked the carriage, Morthain reached in to grab the second sword-in-a-sheath he had managed to acquire, and he presented it to Kenaiwan. "And you should keep this buckled to your hips at all times from now on. Just in case." The knight knew that the king was no fighter, but basic swordplay was a high-class court skill that most nobles had at least basic training in. If worst came to worst, Kenaiwan swinging his sword around a couple times should hopefully give Morthain whatever precious few seconds he needs to assist and intervene. In a battle, every second counts.

Kenaiwan took the weapon and strapped it to his belt with ease before blinking at the darkness. Kaevri knew that he was at least a passable swordsman (at least as far as courtly show duels went), so she wasn't horribly concerned. She was, however, very dismayed to see the greying sky to the east.
"You didn't wake me." She fixed her knight with the best scowl she could manage. The effect was ruined when the queen was forced to cover a yawn. Kenaiwan seemed no less exhausted. His eyes wandered blearily over the horses and the packed supplies.
"I will grant you lands and title up to half of my kingdom in exchange for four more hours of uninterrupted sleep." The king grumbled while eyeing the cart horses. Never had the royal rump sat on such a humble animal. "You may name your price in the morning."

Kaevri watched as her husband turned and tried to climb back into the carriage. It would be easy enough to leave him, she thought. The idea was monstrous and quickly discarded, though her sleep-starved imagination fed her lovely images of proud Lord Kenaiwan attempting to build a fire for himself. Morthain would never abandon his lord, she knew, but Kaevri couldn't help but wish that he would. Maybe just for a little while...

"My love, it would be unwise to waste time." Amazingly, she didn't choke on her words. "If sir Morthain believes that this is the best course, I think we should trust him. Our knight has not steered us wrongly yet."
With Kenaiwan's back to them, the petite noblewoman was able to smile up at Morthain with all the gratitude that she could not express. In a sane world, he would at least be named a duke. She made a mental note to have him titled as soon as she was able.

"Bah. The dogs are far behind. We have been moving constantly for weeks, certainly our mounted retreat would have long outstripped the Llarl hordes." He snorted derisively while Kaevri walked over to the nearest horse. She looked up at the broad-backed creature and paused before using a stone to help herself up. She sat astride the animal with a straight back. The wool trousers she wore might not have been ladylike, but they were proving to be the smartest choice. Her husband obviously disagreed. "You ride like a scullion whore."

"Yes, but a live one." She retorted quietly. His disgust bothered her, though less than she would have thought. While The lord grumbled and complained as he mounted, Kaevri glanced to Morthain for approval. "Would you prefer to ride in front or behind, sir knight?"

Morthain only winced slightly and gave Kaevri an apologetic expression when she fixed him with her accusation of not having her take a turn at watch. When the King tried to bargain for more sleep, Morthain remained neutral, but when Kenaiwan turned and tried to get back in the carriage, that's when Morthain started to get worried. But to his great relief, he didn't need to try and cajole the King into following, for Kaevri stepped up to do that for him. The somewhat beleagured knight returned to the Queen an equally grateful expression for her help in managing her husband. But then, when the King made his comment about thinking that they had left the Llarrl far behind already, Morthain really was worried. Kaevri could see a highly concerned, troubled expression cross the knight's face briefly but immediately after the King's comments about the wolf-men-beasts, as if he was grappling with a very hard decision. The knight was honestly considering the motivational merit of admitting to the King and Queen, right then and there, that in terms of travel the Llarrl were effectively right behind them. While panic born of seeming hopelessness would doom them, apathy would be their downfall just as surely. But again to his relief, he didn't need to make that decision, as the King finally acquieced and moved to mount up on one of the horses himself.

Stressed as he was, Morthain couldn't manage to supress a sigh then, but he kept it quiet enough that Kenaiwan shouldn't hear it if he wasn't looking. Instead, the Knight picked up two of the supply-bags he had set up, and slung them over his back while walking towards Kaevri's horse. It was then, through the grogginess of inadequate sleep, that Kaevri might have realized that the former military leader was no longer wearing even his breastplate, or in fact, none of the other cherry-picked pieces of his old armor suit except for his forearm-guarding vambraces and thick, metal-plated gloves. None of said missing pieces of armor were anywhere to be seen, yet he was carrying on as if things were normal. The only reason Morthain would abandon those last pieces of his armor was if he decided he needed to trade protection for lightweight speed, and the only reason he would do that, this late into their escape, was if things were very, very bad.

But he had regained his composure by now, and with calm, stoic confidence, he braced himself on the side of Kaevri's horse, preparing to climb up. "I would ride behind, if it pleases you, m'lady." He said as he moved to mount the horse. After he checked to make sure that the King was hauling the third and last supply-bag with his horse, Morthain clicked his tongue, and the horses started off in a trot. "Lead for now, m'lady," He said to Kaevri, who had the reins of their horse. "I'm going to guide us for some distance, to ensure we are on the right path. When I'm sure and I start to nod off, you can lead things from there, M'lord." Morthain said, turning to the King for a moment, before he turned back to look forward in the darkness of the path through the woods. From how he had been reacting earlier, Kaevri could certainly tell, knowing Morthain as well as she did, that there was still something very wrong. But the knight still hadn't admitted what it was yet.

Drowsy as she was, Kaevri only made passing note of Morthain's gear. Even noticing his lack of armor, she had more pressing matters to attend to. Kenaiwan complained under his breath constantly, and she worried that he might simply refuse to cooperate at any moment. Or he might give them away. The Llarl had demonstrated a keen sense of hearing in the past, so it was a very real danger. After they had traveled a quarter mile or so, the king's grumbles stopped as he realized that they were not listening. Kaevri was thankful for the quiet and leaned gently back until her back rested on Morthain's chest. The horse's pace seemed to make a near-musical rhythm with the beating of her heart.

She gave in to the hypnotic swaying of their mount and began to relax in small degrees. She could feel the knight's heart against her back. Her own heart seemed to change pace to match his and she was idly amused by the inappropriate sweetness. Something about the whole situation was bothering her, but after weeks of constant terror she was beginning to grow numb. Still, the warning in her instincts continued.
'At least Sir Morthain is keeping my back fairly warm,' She thought dimly as the horse balked and broke the rhythmic spell. Her thoughts cleared a bit, and her heart seemed to stop for several beats. 'I can feel his heart because he isn't wearing armor.'

A few nudges and the horse continued down the dark road, but it seemed to pick up on it's rider's sudden fear. She glanced back to see if her knight could give her some less-terrifying explanation. In the dark, it was difficult to make out any details but she noticed that Kenaiwan was having trouble with a skittish horse as well. She couldn't hear anything unusual, but farmhorses weren't known for bravery. IT was entirely likely that they were simply unwilling to be ridden.
"Morthain," She whispered, forgoing the usual title. "Why did you... I think we should try moving faster."

Morthain guided Kaveri, pointing out which directions she should steer the horse at what times. He took them off the road several times, cutting through the trees and following hunting trails rather than the main roads. They crossed a bridge over a small river at one point. As they went on, Morthain got more and more lethargic in his directions, until he indicated to Kenaiwan that he could take the lead now; they were on the best path Morthain could get them on, all Kenaiwan had to do was keep heading in an eastward direction.

And so, Morthain nodded off into an unsteady, but still restful sleep, for a soldier at least. His arms held onto Kaevri's waist, as firmly as he dared and in the least inappropriate way he could manage. But even after travelling for awhile, he was still able to respond to his name when it was said. "Mph. What? Huh?" He said, his eyes blinking open tiredly as he looks around and at Kaevri, taking only a moment to process what she said. "Uhh..." He shook his head to clear it and try and get his bearing as he started absorbing details from his surroundings. The thing that immediately sent alarm bells off in his head was how the horses were starting to nicker and act jittery.

"Wait. Stop. Whoa, whoa, easy there." He said quietly, while trying to get Kenaiwan's attention just in front of them while getting both horses stopped. Once they had come to a halt, Morthain instructed in a hushed voice for everything to be quiet for a moment. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the woods around them, noting which sounds were there...and which ones weren't. Suddenly, Morthain turned his torso almost all the way around to look behind them. He squinted into the darkness, then turned his head to look in another direction, then another, then he turned to look on the other side...and then he looked ahead. In the light of the half-moon, with his face just inches from hers, Kaevri could see how he focused his eyes off into the distance...and how his eyes suddenly snapped wide open and completely alert in stark alarm, as he said the two worst words that could be said in the situation.

"Oh, no."

Immediately, Morthain reached forward around Kaevri and grabbed the reins out of her hands, and shouted out loud, shattering the silence of the night. "GO! HYAH, HYAH, HYAH, RUN!" He furiously kicked into the flanks of the horse they rode to make it bolt forward, as just after Morthain started shouting... dozens of shrill, wolf-like howls pierced the air like razors, from all directions in the woods. "THIS WAY, M'LORD, FOLLOW ME!" He shouted to Kenaiwan as he brought his and Kaevri's horse abreast with the king's, while he held the queen steady against his chest between his arms as he lashed the reins of the horse. As the two horses began to gallop through the woods...the king and queen could see flashes of grey and black, flitting through the trees around them, trying to keep up. Morthain's head snapped back and forth in all directions, looking everywhere in a split second to spot where the enemies were, and what avenues of escape existed. Adrenaline flooded the knight, bringing him back to almost-full awareness despite his lack of sleep...and he recognized the pattern of the chasing Llarrl. They were trying to box the fleeing horses in, like they were guiding them...or hearding them.

"Ambush ahead! M'lord, we have to break through our pursuers together! Hard left, on my mark!" He shouted to Kenaiwan on their side, while he counted the passing trees and the sightings of the grey blurs, without waiting for an acknowledgement. In a combat situation, orders were reflexively assumed to be obeyed. "Three...two...one...MARK!" Morthain then tilted his body and jerked hard on the reins, barely keeping both himself and Kaevri on the horse's back as it suddenly darted to the side. Morthain was counting on the king and his horse doing the same; the two had a decent chance of breaking through the more-fragile-than-it-seemed Llarrl box, but a single horse had much less of a chance...

Just a few hours earlier Kaevri had thought that she simply could no longer feel fear anymore. Weeks of terror had numbed her, she had thought. Now it seemed that she had been very wrong. The queen had never actually seen a Lllarl in person and the sketches accompanying her history lessons had been... Lacking. The flashes she caught between trees were infinitely worse than the paintings, and so much larger! The beasts seemed nearly the size of their mounts, but without light or a clear view she had no way of knowing if it was true. The uncertainty was worse than knowing, she decided bleakly.

And the noise... The howls touched a deep and primitive part of her, shivering all rational thought to tiny little shards. All of her willpower was needed just to keep the small woman from whimpering out loud. Morthain's arms around her were a great comfort, and his voice lent her some of his resolve. She was able, barely, to understand the plan and the calculating, queenly part of her mind immediately saw a fatal flaw.
While Kenaiwan was keeping pace beside them, it did not seem to be because he heard and understood Morthain's instructions. The king was riding beside them out of utter and unreasoning terror. Even in the dark Kaevri could see the whites of her husband's eyes in a perfect ring around the iris. The howls...

Before she could warn Morthain, the knight had jerked them off the road and into the trees. She yelped in alarm but it was smothered by the howling. She saw a flash of shining eyes nearly level with her own, then a blurring of shaggy fur. Kenaiwan crashed along in the underbrush a few yards away; evidently he had heard the order. His mount pulled ahead in increments and eventually veered in front of them as both horses found a narrow game-trail. Branches whipped across Kaevri's face and arms as they fled. She ducked down as best she could and peeked out from under Sir Morthain's arm.
The Llarl was massive. It loped along with the grace of an enormous cat and the speed of a greyhound. A lolling tongue spilled out from a snout lined with horrendously sharp teeth. She thought instinctively of a wolf, but this creature was as large as a northern bear and clad in leather armor with bits of jangling mail that reflected the scant moonlight.

Kenaiwan noticed the monstrous pursuer bare seconds after Kaevri did. The king shouted something that might have been words just as easily as it might have been a cry of horror, then darted away from the llarl. The wolf creature leaped at the king with dirt-caked talons extended and missed, tumbling along the path directly in front of Morthain's galloping horse.

With no time for a reaction, they trampled over the llarl. Kaevri pulled her feet up in a cringe but those awful talons did not rake at her. The horse, however, screamed and stumbled abruptly as it's belly was ripped open.

Mothain saw the Llarrl crashing right in front of them, but by the time he did, it was too late. No... The next thing he knew, the horse was trampling over the wolf-man-beast...and was shrieking from having the creature's claws slice through its skin. No no no no no... The horse kept galloping as Morthain fought to keep it on course, while squeezing Kaevri harshly between his arms to keep her from falling off the wobbly, stumbling beast of burden, but he knew that it was already over. The horse nickered and whinnied as it slowed down, with blood pouring to the ground from its wound as it slowed from an unstable gallop to a rickety trot. Morthain looked ahead to Kenaiwan's retreating horse, and called out as loudly as he could. "M'Lord! Come back, pick your wife up, get her out of here!"

When the horse started going down to its knees, Morthian knew it was done for. With a snarl of frustration, Morthain wrapped his left arm around Kaveri's torso and held her roughly against his chest as, without warning, he pitched both of them over the side of the horse to the ground. The knight made sure to twist as he went down so he landed on his back, with Kaevri on top of him. It was certainly not pleasant, and drove the wind from his lungs, but Morthain had been in far more painful situations in combat before. Quickly, he regained his bearings and rolled slightly to let go of Kaevri while he scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword as he did so. "Prepare yourself, m'Lady! I'll hold them off, get ready to leap onto your husband's steed!" Morthain said as he watched the hulking grey forms of Llarrl begin to close in. Morthain was already resolved to give his life to give the King and Queen a chance to escape...but the King had to pick up his wife. Morthain glanced over his shoulder, checking how far away Kenaiwan was...

... And the king was nearly out of sight. Kenaiwan hadn't even slowed his pace, but Kaevri knew her husband had heard. When Morthain had yelled, Kenaiwan had turned and met her gaze. Even in the dim pre-dawn, she had seen his face. This was not a moment of cowardice, though fear was certainly a factor; no, Kenaiwan was deliberately leaving her to die. This fact did not bother the queen as much as she might have expected. Truthfully, she was more annoyed that Morthain expected her to abandon him to some idiotic act of heroism.

"Sir Knight, I think your plan is flawed." She shivered uncontrollably while sitting on the ground, but Kaevri felt more bemused than terrified. Funny, but after years of physicians saying that she was at death's door, she was going to be killed by a monster in the woods. Kaevri found sudden death surprisingly more appealing than the slow, bedridden wasting that she had expected. "It seems that my Lord husband would like a divorce."
Her back ached from the fall but Kaevri found herself giggling as the llarl circled them and eyed the dying horse. One of the beasts was absolutely drenched in blood and it licked at it's fur as it limped up to join the rest. The Queen and her protector were surrounded, exhausted, and essentially helpless but the llarl did not attack. They kept just out of range of Morthain's blade, wary but confident.

"Morthain... I think we're being captured, not eaten."

When Kenaiwan continued to retreat despite certainly hearing Morthain's shout to him...that is when the knight felt a great pit open up in his stomach, a terrifying sensation of losing his own will to fight. He felt, for the first time in a long time, true fear. Then, the object of his fear made a smarmy comment about her husband. Morthain just sighed in exasperation, though he was now already fighting down the paralyzing fear. Trust Kaevri to always, no matter how dire the situation, keep up her good and inappropriate humor that had Morthain in consternation many, many times before.

With his sword still raised, Morthain stepped in slow circles around Kaveri's collapsed form on the ground. The Llarrl were closing in, forming a perimeter, cutting off all avenues of escape. Morthain could not see any way out. This was really it. Though he did notice that the Llarrl did not attack, and he knew it wasn't because they feared the sting of his blade. They didn't want to kill Kaveri and him. Yet. But the queen saying it hammered it home in Morthain's soul, and she saw a frightening transformation in her protector.

He wasn't an unbowed knight anymore. His frame was drooping, his sword was lowering to the ground, and his shoulders slumped. Defeated. He was giving up. He turned his head slightly to Kaveri, and even in the twilight she could notice that his eyes were shinier and glassier than normal. "I...I'm sorry, Kaevri. I'm so sorry. I did my best. I'm sorry..." He spoke in a slightly cracking, very quiet voice, and he used the former queen's real name, something he almost never did. He slumped closer to her, while still looking all around him at thewarily advancing Llarrl. There was no way they could get out of this.

But then, Morthain had an idea, a last-ditch and desperate idea. Finding some scrap of his courage, he suddenly stood tall again and lifted his sword back up, and the Llarrl halted their advance. He looked around, glaring at them...and then, to Kaevri, started making a stuttering series of strange coughs and growls. Occasionally, the Northern defense that Morthain had led had captured a live Llarrl or two, and Morthain took it upon himself to study them as best as he could, to know his enemy better...including their language. Somewhat, at least. "Leave-her-alone. I-no-fight. Take-me-leave-her-alone." Then he turned his sword down and planted the tip into the dirt, though his hand remained resting on the hilt.

Kaevri watched the whole scene with growing apprehension. If it had been over quickly, that would be terrifying enough, but watching Morthain wilt like this was another matter entirely. She pulled herself up to stand beside him, though without any sort of queenly grace. Muddy and bruised with tangled hair and dark circles under her eyes, Kaevri looked nothing like royalty and felt it. The llarl captors started making a strange coughing sound in response to... Whatever it was that Morthain said. She could guess that he was trying to bargain for her safety, but the snarling noises he made could barely be called a language at all.

The wolf-beasts fur rippled as the noise continued. The simple motion gave more indication of muscle than any flexing she had seen so far. A tiny rational bit of her brain was very thankful for her exhaustion; had she any strength in her legs, she would be screaming and running through the forest. They were just so close! Kaevri, no longer an empress but a terrified woman, gripped Morthain's arm in silent plea for information.

"We will take you, klagshrrgh," The tallest of the llarl said. The coughing growl continued through the group. Another of the monsters unwound a thick rope from a pouch and began tying it into a noose-like knot. "We take you both."
One quick movement and the Llarl rope was around Kaevri's neck. She had barely seen the toss, but it landed well. Her fingers scraped at the thin skin at her throat, trying to loosen the knot without luck. She stumbled away from Morthain and towards the captors in an effort to relieve pressure. The loop tightened only until her breathing was affected, then the llarl abruptly stopped pulling. She was within easy reach of the creature, and it snapped some sort of bone clasp over the knot before gesturing to Morthain to approach.

"Give me hands." It snarled in barely-understandable common. "Give me hands or me kill bitch." Kaevri gasped and scrambled to get her fingers under the rope, but the llarl only made that horrible coughing noise. The first and largest llarl spoke up in it's own language, speaking very slowly so as not to be misunderstood.
"This knot grows tighter, not looser." He gestured to the knights hands, then to the llarl holding the end of Kaevri's noose. "Resist, she dies. you will be bound with the end of her knot. You pull, she dies. One chance."

Green eyes panicked and wide, Kaevri managed to calm herself enough to draw a shaky breath. She had no idea what was being said, but it was clear that she could breathe but not remove the noose. Her hands felt at the bone clasp and found it featureless, smooth, and unmoving. At least until she wiggled it a little and the collar grew tighter. She tried to move the clasp back, but it wouldn't budge! She dropped her hands to her sides.
"Um... well... ehem. Yes. I can't seem to get this off." She wondered if he would hate her for this as much as she hated herself for it. "Perhaps you should do as they say?"
The llarl with her 'leash' held out a massive paw-hand to Morthain, clearly expecting him to comply.

Morthain carefully watched the advancing Llarrl, waiting for their answer but ready to pull his sword from the ground and take as many of them down with him as possible if they didn't acquiece. At the first series of cough-growl-snarls that one of the wolf-men-beasts replied to Morthain with, the knight visibly began to relax in acceptance and resignation. But then at the second series of savage noise, his eyes widened as his face contorted into an expression of horror and rage. He whirled around, pulling the sword from the ground, starting to shout "No! I said--" but he was too late to stop the lasso from looping around Kaveri's neck to pull her away from him.

Immediately, Morthain went berserk, and raised his sword high while charging at the Llarrl, shouting as he went. "NO! LEAVE HER! LEAVE HER, I SAID!" Morthain quickly got within range of the Llarrl controlling Kaevri's makeshift 'leash', ready to behead the wolfbeast and free Kaevri, when he heard the words of the creature. Morthain froze immediately, with his sword held out and mere inches from the monster. The sword shook in the knight's hands, and his teeth were clenched as his face twitched. Behind himself, another of the Llarrl spoke loudly in their own tongue, and there were yet more visible reactions in Morthain as he heard the snarl-cough sounds. His shoulders hitched slightly, as if he had been struck, he readjusted his grip on his sword, and his face turned even deeper towards hopelessness and anger.

Morthain didn't want this. He hated the wolf-barbarians, now more than he ever had before in all his campaigns against them. His rage boiled within him, driving him to abandon reason and begin indescriminate slaughter of the monsters, to kill as many as he possibly could before they overwhelmed him. But his years of training, and his loyalty to Kaevri, kept him in check. He heard perfectly well their ultimatum. They had outfoxed him. They destroyed his bargaining position, and left him with nothing. There was nothing more he could use or do to keep Kaveri out of their hands, and he knew it. Still, it was the hardest thing in his life, to begin lowering his sword again. Trembling, the sharpened steel moved away from the Llarrl holding Kaveri until it was pointed at the ground. It was the hardest thing in his life to do, because as he snarled with wordless frustration and finally tossed the blade aside in defeat, there was one thing he began to hate even more than the Llarrl, something he hated so much it felt like his hate was going to consume his very soul over it: Himself.

The knight then thrust his arms out in compliance, hands balled in fists and his wrists against each other. Momentarily forgetting or ignoring the fact that Kaevri was watching, he then showed her a side of himself she should never have seen. He glared at the Llarrl behind her, with contained anger so dark, it looked like his face was going to be swallowed up in shadows. The glare promised horrible things. Murder, torture, pain, blood. The most agonizing revenge he could take from them. Kaveri's noble knight, her friend that she had known for more than a year, was momentarily gone. Morthain's glare was so toxic, it made him look almost monstrous himself. But even so, his anger did little more than make the Llarrl hesitate for only a moment, before several stepped forward and began lashing Morthain's wrists together with more rope, then connected him to Kaevri's leash. The beasts then got in very close to Morthain to check him over for any additional weapons, and they found five daggers and knives of varying sizes concealed around his clothing. Kaevri only knew about two of them. Once completely disarmed and bound to the satisfaction of the wolfbeasts, Morthain and Kaveri were then marched through the woods, back in the direction they had come, with the Llarrl surrounding them and prowling around like the predators they were, waiting for any slip-up from Kaevri or Morthain.

Though they had been friends for over a year, Kaevri had never seen her companion so angry. The venom in his glare left her more shaken and breathless than the noose around her neck. At that moment, she would have given her life to undo that one look. She struggled to keep up with the pace that the llarl captors set, but falling behind seemed unwise. Tied to Morthain's hands, she had no choice but to keep up; any missed step would send her tumbling and she dreaded what a fall would mean without slack in the rope. Oddly, the llarl never snapped at her or tried to beat her. Only a few noblemen had ever been captured, but they had all died soon after. The llarl were not kind to their enemies as a whole, however nobles seemed to warrant a special level of cruelty. Of course filthy as she was, Kaevri did not look like any sort of noblewoman. It was highly likely that she hadn't been recognized.

The thought gave her meager comfort for the long hike. Soon after dawn was stippling the path with sickly light, they passed the carriage. More llarl were prowling around it, sniffing at the dirty bedding and poking through the hay. Morthain's armor, the cooking supplies, and a short sword Kaevri didn't remember bringing were all piled up to the side of the road and discarded. She stared longingly at the blade while the scavengers argued over something in their strange and snarling tongue. She half-wished that she could understand the noises that the monsters made as the groups (apparently) exchanged greetings and gossip. The break was very brief and the queen and her knight were marched back into the woods, following a north-western path.

"Morthain," She whispered as her curiosity overpowered her fear. "How did you learn to speak their language? Do... Do they want a ransom? I doubt that Kenaiwan will pay it, if they do."

As the Llarrl started to get their two captive humans to move, Morthain was jostled enough to see the fearful expression that Kaevri was regarding him with. Some pang of remorse went through him, but his anger still flared. It took some time and effort, but Morthain did his best to focus on the monotonous marching, letting the repetative action calm his mind and get his anger under control. Anger wasn't going to do him any good here. Eventually, Morthain wrestled down his emotions and was able to focus on priorities again. His mission hadn't changed, Kaevri still needed his protection. Even though they were captured, Morthain would make every effort to shield her from their captors, and he could only do that with a clear head.

When they passed by their abandoned carriage later, Morthain glanced at his armor and weapons, but quickly looked away. Unfortunately, there was no possible way he could get to his equipment, and dwelling on it wouldn't do any good either. He noted that they were there, and moved on. After the Llarrl parties conversed with each other and set Morthain and Kaevri off marching again, the knight blinked and looked over to Kaevri when she asked her question, then sighed. "No, they don't want a ransom...they said something about 'labor', 'camp', and 'work pits'..." Morthain replied, answering the easier and less pleasant question first. "As for how I learned...well. During my third tour, when I was promoted to my first real officer position, I carried on a practice that some of my predecessors did: whenever a golden low-risk opportunity arose--which wasn't often--we would take a Llarrl or two prisoner, for study and interrogation. In any kind of war, it is universally true that the better you understand your enemy, the better off you are. Understanding what your enemy is saying is a valuable and potent tool when applied correctly. We used the captured Llarrl to learn how they spoke to each other, then taught what we learned to our most elite scouting rangers, who could then eavesdrop on Llarrl encampments and learn their plans. It wasn't always successful...was actually unsuccessful most of the time...but the few times we did manage to learn of the creature's plans in advance made crucial differences in a few battles. It's been awhile though, so I'm...a bit rusty at it, and I never learned it that comprehensively myself in the first place. I'm only picking up on every other word or so of what they're saying." Morthain explained, as a story that could keep him talking for a bit to slightly distract both their minds, and take the edge off the situation they were in.

"I wonder what they mean by that? Though I suppose we should be happy not knowing." She mused quietly. Talking had a noticable effect on Morthain, so she was happy to keep him talking. Even if he was talking about the Hills. They marched in silence for a few more minutes while she thought unhappily about her peoples' bloodiest battlefield. Fighting at the Hills had been constant for all of recorded history, though there were legends about what had come before...
"I once asked my father to create a truce with the Llarl." She murmured half to herself. "I thought that if both sides just tried hard enough, the fighting would stop and everyone could get along. I begged him and made a terrible scene when he kept refusing. It seems so... naive now."
She fingered the rope around her neck and smiled bitterly off into the trees as she remembered. Her mother had made a special trip to Kaevri's chambers just to explain why a peace treaty couldn't succeed. Empress Drennalla was very ill at that point; it was the last time Kaevri saw her mother out of bed, in fact. The Empress had lectured on "divine right" and the will of the gods, but all Kaevri had heard was 'it has never been done'. At the time it seemed like pig-headed idiocy, but now she saw why.

"I'm sorry, you know. That you had to go to that horrible place. The Hills are not a place I would willingly send any person, but particularly not..." she trailed off and sidled closer to him while the llarl guards watched closely. They made no move to stop her as she touched his arm tentatively. Kaevri let her hand fall again and considered taking hishand as they walked. By now they had slowed considerably, but the llarl were not prodding them to move faster. "I didn't know that Kenaiwan was going to send you away. Please believe that I had nothing to do with sending you back."

Morthain listened to Kaevri, so innocent, as she told him about how once she thought a truce would be possible with the Llarrl, even though she admitted to being naive about it in light of what she had seen now. Morthain's heart weighed heavy, regretful that he could not shield her from this horror. "There are many men who have lost something important to them to the Llarrl, and are mad with grief and would fight until their deaths...but many more who are just...tired. This war has been going on for so long. Before we were overrun, the people up north were being ground down in spirit, losing their will...if the Llarrl were to offer a truce, or if they were willing to accept one we give them, most of us would agree in a heartbeat. We just want the fighting to stop...but the Llarrl attacks are unrelenting and without mercy. They want this war..." The knight then sighed. He tried to hide his weariness, but if anyone could see through him, it was Kaevri.

He then shook his head at Kaevri when she said she would not want to order anyone to the North. "What must be done must be done to defend ourselves, milady...I have sent men to their deaths myself. More than once. It was necessary, the best option from a pool of worse options to hold the line to keep the fortifications up one more day..." Morthain sighed again, and looked around at the Llarrl hearding him and Kaevri. "And in the end, it was all for naught." He paused when Kaevri then begged him to believe that she wasn't the one to send him back. Again, he shook his head, this time with a wistful smile. "Of course, Kaevri...I knew you weren't involved in that. But even if you were, even if you had ordered me back in person...I would have gone, and I would have done so without regret or resent. It is my duty. My purpose. The oath that I have sworn as an honor-bound knight. I embrace it, even if it would require my life."

On and on, the Llarrl walked them, well into the morning, long past where Kaevri's legs would have ached terribly from not being used to such activity, at which point Morthain would help support her and keep her on her feet. As for himself, Morthain could march from dawn to dusk, and beyond...but, eventually, there was a change in the demeanor of the Llarrl, and Morthain caught a few of the snarls between them. "We're almost to...wherever we're going..." He whispered to Kaevri.

"Don't you ever..." She paused while her sleep-deprived brain scrambled for the best words. Morthain's death terrified her in ways she couldn't begin to explain. When her mother had died it had been sad but not crippling, her father's death was frightening in that it placed the whole empire across her shoulders and condemned her to a marriage she wasn't certain that she wanted. The fear had been only a fleeting thing, though, something unpleasant that required her to grit her teeth and move onward. But Morthain... She owed him everything, even her future. Kaevri simply did not have the strength or knowledge to continue without him. Her fear went beyond survival, however. Imagining her life at the palace, with the war over and everyone safe but without her Knight, filled her with nauseous dread beyond anything the Llarl could do. Kaevri saw his weakening resolve in the way he walked, the weary resignation in his shoulders, and she would have sold her kingdom a hundred times to comfort him.
"You have fulfilled your oath, Sir Knight, more times than any Queen has a right to demand. I would be dead, or worse, if not for you. Your only duty now is to survive, no matter the cost." A grim smile curled her lips as she considered his assessment of the war that had ruined so many men. "My father employed historians and scholars simply to give him insight into the Llarl. One man insisted that because the llarl bear such a resemblance to wolves or great cats, they must have similar behaviors. He thought that giving the Hills to the beasts would placate them for long enough to build a wall; sacrificing the northern territories completely." She looked around at the temperate forest and the llarl rope around her own neck. "It would seem that he was wrong. I agree with you, this is a meaningless war that they seem intent on continuing. I pity them. How horrible must their lives be to throw them away on something so pointless?"


The silence dragged on as they marched until Kaevri could hear nothing but the pounding of her own footsteps. The ache had started about an hour after they passed the cart and it grew steadily worse as time went on. Within another few hours, she was simply numb. If not for Morthain's steadying arm, she would have collapsed several times over.
"Well good. I have had enough marching for today." She offered him the best smile she could manage and stifled another yawn. Perhaps it was undignified, but Kaevri was having serious thoughts about sleeping on the forest floor. Morthain would carry her, without a doubt, but the queen was concerned for his strength as well.
She was on the verge of making another snarky joke when the llarl led them onto a well maintained road. Her joke was forgotten as her eyes scanned the woods and road for identifying features. If they knew where they were, escape would be more likely to be successful.
The area looked familiar, but she wouldn't have known where they were on a map... at least not until they passed through the gate and she saw the pastures.
"I think... oh dear. This is the Veylian ranch. They bred very fine horses here." Continuing down the road, the pastures were abruptly replaced with fields being tended by ragged slaves. The human workers looked up at the group with despairing eyes. "... labor camp, you said?"

Morthain took a few steadying breaths as Kaevri told him that she considered his duties already fulfilled, and that she just wanted him to live. He was always amazed at how she had such concern for him, he who was merely one of her many servants. All the same, though he knew he wasn't supposed to put either of the royals above the other, Kaevri's care for him continually earned deeper devotion and loyalty. When she continued on about how her father handled the war and what she thought about it, Morthain couldn't keep an exhausted, but happy smile from his face. He usually tried not to think about it because of it being inappropriate, but that was why he liked her so much. Morthain knew, better than most, that there was hardly anyone who didn't have something dark weighing on their hearts. Even his fellow knights had their imperfections, and gods knew, Morthain had done things in the past he wasn't proud of. But Kaevri...she was different from all that. Kaevri was about the only person Morthain had ever met who he could call truly good. She always had concern for others around her, always saw people Morthain would have disregarded as criminals or just rotten instead as misguided people to be pitied, just like she was thinking of the Llarrl now, despite everything that had happened already. She had an innocence, a pure goodness about her that Morthain constantly felt needed to be protected and nurtured, as one of the few things in the world truly worth defending.

But when they started walking into the borders of a ranch hours later, Morthain was almost as ready to drop as Kaevri was, and was only surviving on rote action even as he helped keep her supported. But as they saw everything and everyone around them, Morthain managed to dreg up another miniscule burst of energy to put an arm around Kaveri's shoulder and protectively hold her closer. He looked about with his mouth grimly flattened into a thin line. "...Yes." He answered her. "It would seem the Llarrl are...using captive humans as slave labor." Morthain already had resigned himself to the knowledge that there wasn't likely any way he could keep Kaevri out of it, so all he could do was keep an eye out for opportunities where he could relieve any burden she is given. Their fellow humans just watched the former queen and knight, already knowing that the pair were going to be made to join everyone else in service of the wolf-men-beasts. But as they walked more and more into the ranch, Morthain then saw a particular man off in the distance, one who was standing tall and seemed unbound, looking as if he was speaking to a group of Llarrl. When the man noticed the approaching group, he turned and began to walk in Morthain and Kaevri's direction...

Kaevri's heart jumped when she saw the human figure walking towards them. She hoped that it meant that an alliance had been made, but even her optimism couldn't convince her. If nothing else, it indicated that the Llarl were willing to give humans some degree of freedom. Perhaps even some kindness? As the figure drew closer, her hope withered.

Dressed in a discordant mix of rough leather and fine cloth, the man didn't walk to them so much as prowl. He had a feral look to him, hair all a wild grey tangle and a massive scar that twisted the right side of his face into an eternal snarl. As the man approached, Kaevri was struck by the fact that the man had no weapons on him besides a thick wooden baton that he carried in his left hand. She assumed initially that he must be left handed, but once he stopped a few yards away, she saw the truth. His right hand was badly mangled. The thumb, pinkie, and first finger had all been removed while a lump of scar tissue forced his remaining two fingers into a clawed position. The queen forced herself to resist cringing as a pair of grey eyes raked over her.

The man made a series of guttural noises and snarls that she assumed were the llarl tongue and one of her captors ripped her unceremoniously from Morthain's protective arm. The llarl fiddled with her leash until the noose loosened and was pulled off. While she gasped in grateful relief, the man stalked forward and several other llarl moved closer to Morthain to interrupt any trouble he might think to cause.

"Turn around. In circle." The man ordered, motioning to her with his mangled hand. Kaevri complied, haltingly. The man, now obviously some sort of taskmaster, grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave it a rough shake. He seemed satisfied by the way it stayed attached, and proceeded to paw at her breasts and stomach. Poor Kaevri couldn't help but cringe from that.
"How many whelp?" He demanded, poking at her hips. When she did not respond immediately, the man turned to Morthain. "This is your bitch? How many whelp you make?"