In the frigid, inky blackness of night, he followed the familiar call of his wife. "Leon," the voice, both near and far, filled his mind. "Protect her... Leon... protect the girl with the red eyes..." He reached out, desperate to pull his wife back. "Leon?"

  Leon jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his calloused hand gripping Vivian's arm. "Nightmare?" she asked, oblivious to his tight grasp, her fingers gently touching his forehead. A slight fever, perhaps the wound was infected. Leon's gaze was distant; he released her arm and sat up. They had traveled for a full day, setting up camp here yesterday.

  Now, with dawn breaking, Vivian had clearly been awake for some time. A pot of water was already boiling, and embers still glowed from the fire. She poured him a cup of water, thankful they'd found some useful items in the small house earlier."Your wound needs cleaning," Vivian stated, her hands grinding the wild mint she'd found with a stone.

  "And you say you're not a healer," Leon quipped, unwrapping the blood-soaked bandage and pouring the water over his gash. Vivian offered no comment, instead spreading the crushed mint paste onto his wound.

  "Where I'm from, you'd definitely be called one," Leon added, wincing slightly as the cool, thick poultice settled onto his skin.

  "As a knight, I've encountered quite a few healers, and your way of treating wounds is no less effective than theirs," Leon continued. "We're short-handed. If you agreed to be our healer, it would help us immensely."

  Vivian remained silent for a moment before responding, "I'll try to help if I can." After two days together, Leon had a general understanding of Vivian's reserved and quiet nature, so he hadn't expected an immediate acceptance.

  "We should go. If we leave now, we can reach Valor's Hold by nightfall." Leon put his bloodstained tunic back on and helped Vivian with her peculiar bag.

  Valor's Hold was an abandoned fortress belonging to the Osher family. When the war between the Wickhamians and the Xylos broke out, the crown had seized it and transformed it into a stronghold. With Leon's garrison defeated, Valor's Hold would undoubtedly be the Xylos's next target.

  The two arrived just as darkness enveloped the landscape. From a distance, Valor's Hold stood starkly against the night. Its formidable stone walls, weathered by centuries of wind and siege, loomed like jagged teeth against the faint glimmer of distant stars. Torches, strategically placed along the battlements, cast flickering, dancing shadows that stretched and contorted the familiar stonework into eerie shapes. The air was cool and carried the scent of damp stone and perhaps a hint of woodsmoke from dying embers in the hearths within. The silence was profound.

  "Who goes there?" two guards at the gate called out loudly as they approached.

  "Please inform Lord Fabrício that Knight Wendelin is here," Leon said, handing them a necklace with three intertwined circles.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  Within five minutes, the gate creaked open, and a bald man clad in chainmail stepped out. A thick black beard framed his broad grin as he strode forward and pulled Leon into a rough embrace.

  “You bastard, I thought you’d gone to meet the Almighty!” he bellowed, clapping Leon hard on the back.

  Leon winced from the blow. “Thanks to this healer, I’m still alive to see you, old friend,” he said, nodding toward Vivian.

  The man looked past him—and froze.

  His gaze locked on Vivian’s eyes, wide with astonishment. The firelight caught the red irises, making them shimmer like polished garnets. Vivian, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, instinctively looked away.

  “How rude of me,” the man said, snapping out of his trance. He scratched his head, then gave a short bow. “I am Lord Fabrício. Thank you for saving this young man’s life.”

  He turned to Leon. “And this lady is…?”

  Leon opened his mouth—then paused, realizing he didn’t know her last name.

  “Phan,” Vivian answered calmly. “Vivian Phan.”

  “My Lady Phan,” Fabrício said with another, deeper bow. “Please, come inside. It’s getting cold, though it’s not truly winter yet.”

  He slung an arm over Leon’s shoulder and led them in.

  They passed through a wide stone-paved courtyard where small groups of people stood conversing. As Fabrício approached, they quickly bowed. Some eyed Vivian with open curiosity, others with guarded expressions. A few cast her outright hostile looks.

  “Don’t mind them, Lady Phan,” Fabrício said, his voice low. “Hatred still clouds many minds, even though Hybrids fought alongside us in this war.”

  He led them into a long corridor of gray stone, then up a staircase and through a door on the right into a chamber with a long wooden table. A few individuals sat inside, their conversation pausing as the group entered.

  Fabrício clapped his hands. “Nye! Please attend to Lady Phan.”

  A young woman with brown hair braided around her head stepped forward and gave a graceful curtsy.

  Vivian glanced at Leon. He offered her a reassuring nod.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Without a word, she turned and followed Nye out of the room."Can that girl be trusted?" Fabrício asked, pressing Leon to sit down.

  "Perhaps. She's neither from Batha nor Xylos."

  "Fascinating." The lord poured wine into a goblet, offering it to Leon.

  "What happened with Teodor's reinforcements?" Leon asked, taking a sip of the wine.

  "Don't even ask. That bastard was ambushed on his way to you. He immediately led his troops back to Atheria. The cowardly fool!" Fabrício swore. "I sent a letter requesting more reinforcements, but there's been no response yet. That fat old emperor is probably still lounging around while we fight the war he started!" Fabrício grabbed a goblet of wine for himself, cursing.

  "Can Valor's Hold be defended?" Leon asked, frowning.

  "No worries. That incompetent Teodor has quite a few good knights. There's Isac—that bastard from House Guntram. He's an excellent archer. During the ambush, he actually shot and wounded the leader, Vikentije. I don't think the Xylos will be in a hurry to attack right away.""That will be for the best," Leon sighed. Their conversation slowly faded into the night.

  Across the fortress, Vivian sat before a table where a silver plate held two slices of bread and a piece of roasted venison. Nye was busy preparing clothes and bathwater for her. Vivian broke off a piece of bread and put it in her mouth, her tongue smarting as she chewed. She then moved to the roasted meat, carefully cutting it into small pieces before eating it. It wasn't overly fancy, seasoned simply with a bit of salt and pepper. Vivian, not wanting to waste food, slowly finished her meal. Nye stood by, serving, her eyes seemingly drawn to the unusual grace and strange beauty of the lady before her.

  "Nye?" The maid startled, responding with a blush, "Yes, Lady Phan."

  "You may leave. I'll bathe myself." Vivian handed the empty plate to Nye. Once the girl had left, Vivian exhaled a long breath—a breath she felt she'd been holding since arriving in this strange world.

  Vivian removed her clothes. Her white shirt, its sleeves torn off to bandage Leon, now looked comically like a tank top. She stepped into the wooden tub, the warm water immediately enveloping her chilled body, seemingly soothing every taut nerve. Vivian leaned back against the wood. She had dissociated herself from being thrown into another world since her arrival, but now all her defenses crumbled. Vivian sighed. How was she going to face this situation? The question lingered in her mind: Should she continue to survive? The answer was a single word: "maybe."

  It was still dark, but the servants were already awake, gathered in the kitchen, filling their bellies before serving their masters. "Nye, is it true that lady has red eyes?" a scullery boy asked loudly, biting into his bread.

  The maid nodded.

  "Is she really a lady, though? I heard she's a Batha," another chimed in.

  "Lord Fabrício said she's a Lady, so of course she's a Lady. Don't go spreading nonsense," the head cook said, ladling creamy soup into wooden bowls and passing them around.

  "Lady Phan is so beautiful; I've never seen anyone so lovely," Nye recalled dreamily. "Her manners certainly suggest she's from a high-born family," the maid asserted confidently.

  "High-born or not, she's a hybrid; she can only be a bastard. No noble house would ever accept a non-human creature," the serving boy sneered.

  "Perhaps they do things differently in Batha, who knows?" another servant offered.

  "We're at war with those freaks, and yet Lord Fabrício accepts a hybrid—it's truly unsettling."

  "Stev, have you forgotten that Madam Patya healed you? She's a pure-blood dwarf, you know," the head cook said, dipping her bread into the soup and eating, not forgetting to remind the young man. Stev was silenced, turning away sullenly.

  "Lady Phan?" Nye exclaimed in surprise, causing everyone to look toward the kitchen door. There stood a young woman with long, flowing dark hair, dressed in a gown made of dark green velvet fabric, with graceful, floor-length sleeves that widened dramatically at the bottom, and gold embroidered trim decorating the edges of the sleeves and hemline. She was as beautiful as a goddess.

  All the servants immediately stood and bowed. "Please, everyone, sit. I was just wandering around a bit," Vivian said, a touch of embarrassment in her voice.

  Nye quickly followed Vivian out into the hallway. "Lady Phan, do you need anything?"

  "Could you lead me to the infirmary?" Vivian asked, feeling the need to keep her hands busy to prevent her mind from wandering.

  "Of course, Lady Phan. Lord Fabrício instructed me yesterday; I should have attended to you sooner," Nye chastised herself.

  "It's my fault, actually, for disturbing your breakfast," Vivian replied with a self-deprecating smile. "You just need to show me the way there; I can go the rest of the way alone."

  "Please, let me. I've finished my breakfast anyway," Nye offered, eager to lead the way.

  The infirmary was in the east wing, not far from the kitchen. Vivian could smell a mix of herbs from outside the door. Inside, there were two small beds, several tables piled high with books, and in the center, three tables pushed together, laden with medicinal herbs. A small stove was boiling medicines.

  "Madam Patya?" Nye called out loudly.

  From the back, there was a low rumble and the sound of quick footsteps. "What now? Another morning injury? Do you all think your bodies are invincible?" A dwarf hurried over, her silver hair pulled up into a high bun, a few curly strands falling over her forehead. Madam Patya looked Vivian over. "Why are you standing there like a dolt? Speak up, where's the injury?"

  "It's not that, Madam Patya. This is Lady Phan. Lord Fabrício sent her to assist you," Nye introduced. Vivian curtsied slightly to the dwarf.

  "Assist? I just hope you people don't cause me more trouble. As if your girl doesn't turn this place into a mess every day already." Madam Patya scoffed, making Nye blush. She turned to the medicine table, picking up several herbs.

  "What's this?"

  "Elderflower," Vivian quickly replied.

  "And this?"

  "Valerian." She held up a series of plants: Nettle, Hawthorn, Birch, Chaga, Reishi.

  "This girl's quite good," she said with a hint of approval. "Do you know how to stitch wounds?"

  Vivian quickly nodded.

  "Too good to be true, what's the catch?" Madam Patya asked, her suspicion evident.

  Vivian picked up a book; the script within was Latin, but not English. "I don't know this script," she admitted.

  Madam Patya nodded. "I knew it. That Fabrício would never give me anything good. I won't be teaching you to read."

  "I'll try to learn on my own," Vivian quickly stated.

  "Alright, fine. I'm short on Druid salve. Melt beeswax over low heat. Add yarrow, calendula, comfrey, and lavender. Stir well for about 15–20 minutes. Add honey when the mixture is still warm, and stir thoroughly. Strain out the herbs and let it cool. Understand?" Madam Patya paused, looking at Vivian expectantly. Vivian immediately nodded. "Make me about 30 jars. Nye, help her with it. This is the tenth time I've asked you, don't mess it up again." Madam Patya snorted, then disappeared back behind the stacks of books.

  Vivian rolled up her sleeves, already moving toward the shelves of labeled jars and dried herbs. Nye, still slightly red-faced, followed her with a nervous smile and grabbed a clean pot.

  The two worked in quiet rhythm, the bubbling of the small stove filling the room with a gentle hum. The warm scent of lavender and beeswax mingled with the sharpness of dried comfrey and yarrow. Though the task was simple, Vivian found a strange comfort in it—her thoughts finally beginning to slow.

  From behind the stacks of books, Madam Patya muttered something inaudible, the sound of pages turning the only sign she was still there.

  For the first time since arriving, Vivian felt a sliver of belonging—not much, but enough to keep going.

  She glanced at Nye and whispered with a small smile, "Let’s not mess it up."

  Nye grinned. “Not this time, Lady Phan.”

  And as the first jar of golden salve cooled on the table, the morning light broke through the infirmary window, soft and full of promise.