A man just can’t get his rest can he...
Harley sat up on the bed, seeing thin pieces of cloth wrapped around his body like a bandage. Moving his shoulder, he could still feel bite of the pain from the stab wound.
The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the small, tent inside the underground camp. Now that Harley was looking at it, he recognized the colour. Inside, the air carried the faint scent of dried herbs and old parchnt.
’The seer’s tent.’
Just to confirm his thoughts, standing right in front of him was Vernox and a strange woman.
She looked almost impossibly delicate, like a porcelain doll soone had forgotten in the woods. Her fra was small and slender, wrapped in flowing white robes that seed too large for her, the fabric pooling gently around her crossed legs. Pale silver hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing a heart-shaped face that radiated an innocent, almost childlike cuteness—high cheekbones, a small nose, and lips curved in a gentle, perpetual softness. A wide band of black silk was tied snugly around her eyes, hiding whatever lay beneath, yet it only added to her ethereal charm rather than diminishing it.
Despite her fragile appearance, there was a strong essence radiating off her body.
The seer tilted her head slightly toward him, the movent graceful and unhurried.
Her voice, when she spoke, was calm and mature—smooth like aged honey, carrying the quiet weight of soone far older than her delicate features suggested.
"Harley," she said softly, "how are you feeling?"
Harley’s eyes went to Vernox, who only nodded at him and left the tent to leave only the both of them inside.
Harley opened his mouth to speak, but then he halted. He had co all this way just to et this so called seer and see if she’ll be able to help him.
"Please don’t mind my tone. But I ca all this way to see you." Harley spoke, standing up to give her respect.
The woman turned around ever so gently, closing the curtains of the tent. Then, she sat down on the bed, turning to Harley and giving him a warm, inviting smile.
"Co, tell what your problems are." The woman spoke, guiding Harley until he sat down on the bed.
Then he told her what exactly he is looking for, and then also told her the riddle that the Oracle gave to him as a hint. Even if he could discern a bit from the riddle, he still needed to be sure that his thoughts were accurate.
After listening to Harley all through, the seer smiled at him, standing up.
"The godsworn you’re looking for is right here in the kingdom. In fact, we are planning to kill it in two days." The seer spoke, turning her back to him.
"Vernox would tell you about the plan, for now, get so rest. The war eting will hold tomorrow." The woman said, leaving the tent gently.
Harley only sat there with a stern stare.
"What was that about?" He mumbled.
After he explained the riddle to her, her entire deanor changed, from welcoming, to sowhat detached. As if she got scared of sothing... Or she was hiding sothing.
He would have to ask Vernox about it later.
...
Harley couldn’t sleep, soon after his conversation with the seer he was brought a new set of clothes from the seer herself.
The woman who brought in the clothes was none other than the one who he threatened with his intent. She seed pretty nervous as she entered and she scurried off imdiately she dropped it.
Harley now wore a simple yet sturdy pair of black garnts provided by the seer. The shirt was made of fine, dark linen with a loose dieval cut—long sleeves that gathered slightly at the wrists with subtle ties, a modest V-shaped collar that laced partially down the chest, and a hem that fell just past his hips. The fabric was thick enough to offer so protection from the underground chill but still allowed freedom of movent.
Paired with the shirt were matching black trousers of heavier wool, cut in a traditional dieval style: straight-legged with a slight taper toward the ankles, reinforced at the seams for durability, and secured at the waist with a simple leather cord belt. The trousers hugged his fra comfortably without being restrictive, allowing him to move easily despite it’s baggy fra.
Glancing at the corner, Harley could see the hilt of the silver sword he has been using and he imdiately went to grab it. The rest of the blade was in a white leather sheath that had black engravings on it.
The words were a foreign language that he could not understand. However, a brown paper floated in front of Harley’s eyes.
[Against the darkness]
"Huh?" He raised a brow, soon choosing to ignore the words and finally stepping out of the tent.
The underground base of the resistance was a huge catacombs with dozens of corners, however, from where the tent stood, Harley could clearly see the warriors sparring ring where he found Vernox the first ti.
The crystals above the catacombs that lit it were beautifully gold, seeming like small fires burning above them. It was his first ti paying attention to them.
Harley turned his attention back at the training grounds and as he suspected, Vernox was there, but not there. He was standing at the entrance, gazing at the grounds.
’Damn, did it affect him that much?’ Harley wondered.
Ever since he broke out of the ice illusion casted by the black winter, Vernox had been acting strange. Talking less, and now he was still lost in thought.
It’s like the courageous man faced defeat.
’I don’t know about his past, probably due to his mories.’ Harley concluded, tapping Vernox on the shoulder.
"Hey, first of all you didn’t tell that we are joining a war. And second of all, what exactly is the godsworn?"
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