Dappled sunlight fell across Venusia’s face and shoulders as she walked among the trees.  Twittering birds sang their songs amidst the leaves high above, the powerful branches on which they berthed waving gently in the evening breeze.  The winds came from the south, the wood elf noticed.  Most unusual for this time of year, but at least it granted the Enchanted Lands one final lease on autumn before the onset of winter.  Wisps of red hair blew across her face, forcing the woman to hook them behind her pointed ear with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Are you comfortable, mistress?” her escort asked.

“Quite so, thank you,” Venusia replied with a kind smile.

The man was openly courteous, as were most of the sisters’ hired protectors.  His armored gait was typical for a human, but his bearing reminded her starkly of that of a noble paladin.  A rather onerous task to be escorting a courtesan, she thought, for a gallant knight-to-be.  Though service to the Order of the Lily was hardly a blemish on the record of any protector, paladins normally steered clear of the chateau, for reasons that were obvious.

Which was why this human crusader intrigued Venusia so.  Courtesans learned to recognize subtle tells of character in their training—a skill invaluable when it came to evaluating a client’s prospectus.  Her evaluation of this particular man raised a myriad of questions, mainly revolving around what exactly brought him into her service.

Looking ahead, the wood elf pulled her elegant shawl closely about her shoulders as she struck up conversation with the human.

“Your fiancée must miss you terribly,” she said simply.

Somewhat taken aback, the crusader turned to regard Venusia with mild astonishment.

“Yes…” he answered curiously.  “How did you know I’m to be wed?”

“Your hands haven’t stopped flexing since we left Qeynos,” the wood elf answered quietly, not looking at the man.  “For a courtesan, such anxiety either signals a man of honor who’s spoken for, or a coward about to embrace certain death.  Since the Order doesn’t enlist the work of cowards, I must assume the former.”

“That’s reasonable, I guess,” the human conceded.  “How did you know I wasn’t already wed?”

Still not looking to the man, and without missing a step in her pace, Venusia reached over to gently take the his left hand in hers.  Raising it, she tapped his ring finger knuckle lightly.

“Married men of honor always wear their wedding bands,” she said, releasing him.  “Especially around courtesans.”

The human cleared his throat uncomfortably at the wood elf’s insight, and at the incidental compliment on his behalf.

“Yes, well…I must admit the time apart wears on us both.”

Now Venusia turned to look at her human escort, her eyes shining with mirth.

“When is the joyous event, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Lastleaf,” the man said, his mustache spreading in a winsome grin.  “The final day before Firstchill.”

“That is but a month away,” the wood elf observed, overtly impressed.  “Your lady fair must be eager for your return.”

“Indeed.  As am I,” he confided.  “Your Order pays well, and the money I’ve earned this season as escort will pay for the ceremony, as well as give us an ample start on buying a small house in the south avenues of Qeynos.”

“I see,” Venusia nodded.  “And she doesn’t object to the company you keep as you garner your nest egg?”

The man’s seasoned face wrinkled as he smiled.  Turning, he looked the shorter wood elf next to him straight in the face, his eyes shining brightly.

“She trusts me,” he stated with a single nod.

Her thin smile crooked at the human’s confidence, Venusia nodded in return.

“And well she should,” she replied, hoping to put the man’s nerves at ease.  “I must say, I feel most secure in your company.  You are a credit to your sword, your fidelity, and to your service to the Order.”

“Very high praise coming from someone like you.”

Her brow suddenly furrowed, Venusia’s eyes darted quickly to the man’s face, suspicious of any flippancy or sarcasm his words might have held.  Finding his expression sincere, she dismissed her fears and returned her gaze to the path ahead.

“If I may ask something, mistress…?” the man hedged.

“Of course,” she replied glibly.

“What brought you to this…this…vocation?” he asked hesitantly.

The obvious concern in the man’s voice made the wood elf smile.  It never failed—the nobler the man, the greater his chivalrous air as he broached this particular subject.  It was all right, though.  As often as she was asked the inevitable question, in all its myriad forms, she never tired of answering.

“A dear friend introduced me to it,” Venusia replied, her mind filled with fond reminiscence of her youthful, mischievous days at the chateau.  “Though her methods left much to be desired, I cannot deny that Kess was my salvation in so many ways.”

“Your salvation?” the man asked quizzically.  “You mean to say you chose this lifestyle?”

“Entirely,” the wood elf assured him.  “Though hardly appropriate for my young age at the time, from the moment I saw the true reality of the Order of the Lily, I knew what my calling was in life.”

“Forgive me for saying so, my lady…erm, mistress,” the perplexed man fumbled for the appropriate title, “but what calling could possibly be served by degrading yourself in such a fashion?”

“Is my service truly so?” Venusia countered, her manner flawlessly kind and non-combative.  “Is it degrading to give comfort to those who desperately seek it?  Is it degrading to offer love and beauty to those without?  Tell me, how degraded might you feel when you shine the pure light of hope into someone’s otherwise black and despondent universe?”

“A fleeting moment of pleasure for your clients is hardly-”

“I wasn’t speaking of my clients,” she interrupted in an even tone.

Her escort’s open mouth lingered several moments as he pondered the courtesan’s words.  Not wishing to contest a ranking representative of his current employer, the man politely abandoned his argument with a cordial nod.

“Not to fret, I beg you,” Venusia spoke charitably.  “Believe me when I say that I’ve chanced to regard each contention and every debate about what I do.  Its perils can be ponderous, but as the oldest profession, it has preserved and sustained the welfare of countless numbers through the ages.  Countless, good sir, through strife and famine.”

Clearing his throat, the man idly adjusted his breastplate.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, not looking at her.

It was a reaction Venusia was well used to, and frankly a kinder one than many she’d received in her years as courtesan.  It was true she held a high station at the chateau—one of respect, secluded among her sisters and their small community.  Even so, there were those in the outside world who simply did not understand what it meant to be courtesan, nor did they care to.  Discretion was valued among the Order, mainly because of the consequences fame brought with it.  Still, those who knew what to look for recognized her on occasion, and spat her direction as though she were a common street whore.  In their eyes, she was.

They didn’t understand.

Which was the very purpose behind her escort.  Courtesans were few these days, and much rested on their shoulders.  Indeed, the entire Order of the Lily and the precious young lives it fostered depended on the contracts they fulfilled, as did hope for the future.  The subtle thrust of a jealous lover’s blade, and the Order would suddenly be diminished with a tragic loss of life.  Such incidents were not unknown to the sisterhood.  Though rare, when they did happen, their effects were felt profoundly throughout the Order.

The scent of smoke reached Venusia’s nose.  Curiously, the wood elf lifted her face to the evening air, taking in the peculiar smell.  A campfire, she guessed.  It wasn’t unheard of for the occasional traveler to seek sanctuary in the Enchanted Lands, though such has been increasingly sporadic in recent months.  The goblins of Runnyeye had been growing in strength since the Shattering—something that’s caused considerable concern among the local halflings, not to mention the Order.  Lately the horde of uncouth creatures had grown bolder in their raids, and more frequent.  The once idyll environs offered by the Misty Thicket were slowly dwindling to the goblin advance.

Oddly, though, Venusia couldn’t seem to detect the ever-present fragrance of food cooking along with the smoke.  In fact, the air carried with it a strange cloying aspect she couldn’t identify.  The longer they walked in silence, the stronger it became until finally she could feel her escort’s hand touch her arm.

“Mistress…” the man muttered.

Looking over at him, Venusia discovered his face had turned grim.  Without a word, the man pointed to the sunset along the horizon ahead, its glow reaching far into the darkening azure sky.  She couldn’t fathom what vexed him so.  It was a lovely sunset, rich with reds and oranges reflecting off the clouds.

Then she realized those couldn’t be clouds.  They moved fast and hung too low.  Looking around, Venusia tried to regain her bearings to discover that wasn’t even the western sky she looked at—they were still traveling northward. 

Seeing this, the grim reality set in.  The sunset before her wasn’t a sunset at all.  Beyond the hill, the landscape was ablaze.  The clouds, smoke.  The cloying smell…

“Dear gods, the chateau!” Venusia breathed, breaking into a run toward the glowing horizon.

“Mistress Venusia!” her escort called out before chasing after her.

For a courtesan whose life was relatively free of adventure, the wood elf was surprisingly fast.  Weighed down by his iron plate armor, the man was hard-pressed to keep up as the heedless woman darted through the surrounding flora.  Occasionally she would duck low beneath trees that proved bothersome for the significantly taller man.  Torn remnants of her elegant clothing were left behind as a testament to her passing, their light fabric having been snagged by the occasional bramble or twig in her reckless frenzy to reach the chateau.  Before long, the hired escort lost sight of his charge, the brush and shadows working against his grueling efforts to catch up.

Arms crossed before him to protect his face, the man burst through one particularly dense thicket into what felt like a furnace.  His senses turned awash in a sweltering mix of heat and light as he skidded to a precarious halt in the clearing.  Before him towered the chateau, its windows spewing flame as though from a dragon’s maw.

The fevered thought that perhaps the distraught courtesan had rushed headlong into the inferno crossed his mind before he made out her dark form resting several yards ahead.  As he approached, he discovered Venusia collapsed to her knees in despair at seeing her home ablaze, her head staring up despondently at the tremendous flames as they rose high above her tiny form into the night sky.  Her once fine dress hung limply from one shoulder.  Now torn and tattered, the ruined garment bordered on the point of indecency.

As the man approached, he could make out the sound of her sobbing out loud, her shoulders aquiver.

“Kess, Kess!” she repeated between desperate breaths.

“Mistress…” the man’s gauntleted hand touched her shoulder.

“No!” she shouted as she violently began to pull away.

“Mistress, we must leave this place at once,” her escort explained, gripping the wood elf’s arm firmly to keep her from fleeing a second time.  “You’re in great danger!  I fear for your safety…”

“Damn my safety!” the woman screamed, pulling frantically at the man’s unyielding hand.

“Mistress Venusia!” the man shouted, seizing both shoulders to gain her focus.  “Whatever happened here, you cannot undo!  By staying, you risk my life as well as yours!”

Nothing short of slapping her across the face could have brought her out of her insensate panic as effectively.  Blinking, Venusia looked up at her protector’s stern features, finding them calm and stalwart in the midst of the chaos her world had suddenly become.  Hysteria was replaced by reason as she gazed up into his face, her own struggles to free herself stopping as clarity of thought returned to her.

Swallowing the smoke-filled bile in her throat, the courtesan nodded her assent.  This was his job, she reasoned.  It was why the Order had hired him.  To deny a paladin his duty was to deny him his purpose.  Without further resistance, Venusia yielded to the man’s better judgment.

Seeing his charge’s newfound submission, the crusader wasted no time in leading her away from the blazing chateau.  Urgently he pulled at her arm, his stride swift in an attempt to keep her from looking back at her shattered home, lest she fall back into hysterics.

His footsteps were stopped short, however, as numerous shadows emerged from the surrounding trees ahead.  The vile laughter of goblins could be heard all about, their twisted, grinning faces aglow from the blazing inferno.

“Arrgha!  Look and see!” one of them said with a sneer.  “Another straggler to feast upon for us and our posterity!”

“But see you now, your eyes to inspect her,” another goblin answered, its eyes narrowing at the human.  “With her lingers a champion protector!”

“Worthy of us, by our mighty breath?” the first replied, licking its blade.  “Nay brings he the wrath of death!  Though yonder she-elf cowers past human steel in fright, me thinks the spoils go to Runnyeye raiders this fateful night!”

Cruel laughter sounded all around, as the goblin raiders made their advance on the two would-be victims.  Weapons gleamed in the firelight, framed by the wicked grins of the odious creatures who had obviously razed the chateau and murdered any sisters who might have escaped.

Standing tall, undaunted by the forbidding odds he faced, the human drew his shining blade from its scabbard, and held it forth in his right hand.  With his left, he silently urged Venusia to keep well behind him as he searched for any opening in their numbers she could use as an escape route.  But the wall of goblin raiders closed ranks even as they approached, their mob mentality proving effective as always.

Very well then, the human mused grimly.  If no opening presented itself, it was time to make one.

“Marr and Queen Antonia!” the boisterous man roared, leaping into action.

The crusader fought with skill and deadly grace as raider after raider fell to the pinpoint accuracy of his blade.  Many a goblin made their rush on Venusia, but the human’s tactics made it quickly obvious that they would have to take him down as a unit first before any of them could enjoy the spoils.  Before long, the armored man was literally covered in the short, green bodies of his enemies, all bent on ripping the crusader limb from limb.  It soon became obvious the man was fighting a losing battle.

Unsure what to do, Venusia picked up a hefty stone off the ground and hurled it at the writhing mass of goblins with all the strength she could muster.  The missile struck home, effectively crushing the creature’s skull with a sodden thump. 

One down—at least twenty left to go.

“Run!” the human’s voice called from within the scuffle.  “Escape while you can!”

The paladin’s nobility shown through even in the heat of battle, though Venusia knew it was for naught.  If she abandoned her protector now, he would surely fall, and the surviving raiders would waste no time in running her to ground.  Goblins were expert hunters, and sooner or later they’d track her down and flush her out, sealing her fate.

No, if death was to be her end, it would be at this human’s side.

With a strength borne of fury, the wood elf leapt into the scuffle—bare hands her only weapons.  Venusia had never harmed anything larger than a fly before in her life, and yet the pain of sorrow over what the goblin horde had perpetrated sent the normally pacifistic courtesan into a rage the likes of which was unprecedented in her history.  With righteous ardor, she turned primal as she brought her wrath down on the creatures—gouging eyes and ripping flesh with her nails in a conflagration of such ferocity that it mirrored the blazing chateau behind her.

Between her blind fury and the man’s honed skill, both courtesan and crusader managed to divest themselves of the goblin raiders sufficient to make a break for it.  Taking her by the wrist, the human dragged his charge behind him as they both raced in the general direction of the small seaport of Bobick from which they came—its walls he knew were garrisoned by halfling Leatherfoots.  It was a respectable distance away, and their chances of outrunning the mob were slim, but it was their only hope of surviving this goblin onslaught.

Venusia glanced behind even as she fought to keep pace with her protector.  The courtesan’s burning home fell away into the distance with every hurried step—her very life falling away with it.  Even as the chateau fell to shambles, Venusia raced into the unknown future, led by the steel hand of her noble protector.

She realized at that moment nothing would ever be the same again.  After centuries of solitude and serenity, service and comfort, the Order of the Lily had fallen at last to ruin.

To Be Continued

Back to Stories