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“Here, miss, your stew!”
Yassia broke from her reverie and directed a thankful smile at the bartender who had sauntered over to deliver her evening meal. The wandering princess could feel her stomach ache at the thought of finally eating, even if a year before such a simple food might have been well considered below her. But this would be the first decent meal in two days as she had to keep house with the little money that was left. Camelot might not be that far away, but Yassia had been lost before, straying for days until some kind sould had pointed her towards the right direction again.

She was about to take up the wooden spoon and dig into the stew when she heard the man standing behind her clear his throat. As she looked up questioningly he said a little awkwardly. “Would you mind paying in advance? Also for your room? No offense, but…”
“None taken, Sir!” Yassia interrupted and felt on her belt for her purse. She had had similar situations before, times were that bad people actually stooped to bilking on regular basis and the landlords had to sit it through, it was their loss. Her hand moved over her hip absentmindly and – felt nothing! Where was her purse?! Panic struck her stomach like an iron fist and she frantically felt again, darting her eyes downwards to check – nothing!

“I’m sorry, I…” her voice quivered as she searched the dim lit room for a sign of the dark brown bag that had hold her last few coins. This could only be a nightmare! There was no way she could have lost her purse just like that! Unless… now she suddenly remembered a scene right as she had entered the tavern, some man bumping into her, making an odd show of checking if she was alright. She had only thought he had wanted the body contact, but now she realised: He had snatched her purse right this very moment!
“Now what’s it to be? Will you pay or not?” The voice of the landlord had lost all friendliness, now he was all the businessman guarding his gain.

“Someone stole my purse!” Yassia insisted but realised herself how lame those words sounded. His reaction was one she had dreaded but it was only consisted. With an eyeroll he took the wonderfully smelling bowl away, saying: “Well, then I am sorry, Miss, but there is no exception. No money, no food!”
“But I swear it’s true!” The Princess’ voice now sounded desperate. “And it’s already late, where shall I sleep? Sir, please!”
Other men in the tavern had taken notice of the little drama and were slowly surrounding the table where Yassia was sitting like a culprit. “Hey, sweetheart, what about you sleep in my bed tonight and if you’re nice enough I might get you some breakfast in the morning!” one of them who clearly had too much to drink suggested with a sleazy grin, and the fellow customers broke out in roaring laughter and suggesting whistles.

No one seemed to take offense in that outragious behaviour, clearly, even the landlord was more concerned about getting his money than anything else. Like she had recalled earlier, the times where that bad. Whether she found some ‘other’ ways to pay or she slept under the brushes – it was not his problem to think of.
Now the main speaker even came so close she could smell his foul breath and he took her chin between two fingers, examining her face. "Now, let's look at you a little closer, beauty. What do you have to offer, eh?" Yassia felt a wave of revulsion wash over her and she jerked her head, but could not free herself. Oh dear God what was happening? Could it really be she, Yassia Dyfrène, princess and designated queen of Ailantha had sunk so low? Would no one help her out of this?

Yassia’s heart broke for Merlin as she was witnessing him in so much pain, knowing she was the one causing it. How could anyone stay cold blooded around THAT? How could someone not hear these pitiful cries and wanting to end the pain?! But she couldn’t, it needed be done. It was all for his own good, she kept telling herself. Better be in pain now than dying from it or suffering all his life.
“I’m sorry, Merlin, I’m sorry!” Her bloody hand searched his and squeezed it tight for a moment before resuming her work. “Stay strong, I know you can! Not long now!”
She wasn’t even paying attention to the words she was mumbling, all she wanted was to say something to ease his pain and her own. She never had thought this being so difficult! She had been afraid of not being able to do it because she lacked the knowledge, now she realised the danger came from a completely unexpected side: Yassia needed the guts and the steel intent of a physician: actually hurting someone on purpose because it would make it better in the end.

The mentioning of bandits did not exactly work to call the princess’ nerves. Just her luck! Just like she had predicted! Calm… calm… to hell with calm!! How was she supposed to do a surgery like this with bandits about to break into the tavern? This was not only an emergency, it suddenly turned into extreme sport. "How much longer do you need?" - - extreme sport racing against the clock apparently. Yassia was highly tempted to snap back something along the line of ‘as long as it takes’, but she realised it wouldn’t do any good. It was not Arthur’s fault the bandits had shown up. And there was no time for electing a scapegoat anyway. That would all happen later – ever assumed they all survived, which wasn’t a given this very moment.
“I’ll hurry!” she said instead and did so. Sending a silent apology to Merlin as she had to hurt him even more, she quickly freed the arrow and pulled it out of the wound, stanching the blood with the still glowing knife. But unlike some other physician she now didn’t press the full blade on the fresh wound to cauterize it. That would leave a nasty scar and the method was brutal. Instead she fumbled for the needle she had prepared with blood-sticky hands and worked on stitching the fractures together - - hastily as she heard the splintering of wood.

“And killing is not an option, Merlin” she added with a bit of black humor. “Don’t you jinx it, hear me?”
Working with flying hands she now prepared the bandage. White moss soaked with a mixture of comfrey and calendula leaves and a white cloth to keep it in place.
“These bandits better have the courtesy of waiting some ten more seconds!” she growled as her slick fingers fought with the knot she was trying to do.

The man, though young he was, seemed to know what she was talking about and it made Yassia wonder for a moment who he was. He was not dressed all too costly, but he had that certain air about him that made her think if he wasn’t already he was born to be a leader. Maybe they were mercenaries? But however much of a fighter the man looked and acted on, his friend – Merlin apparently – wasn’t a chip off the same block.
However, she wasn’t here for social studies, time was wasting! Hardly did she notice everyone else had left the room, her vision narrowed down to the makeshift operating table and to the fire where her dagger was slowly turning from grey to red, to orange and finally to a very bright yellow, almost time!

“I wish I could”, she replied regretfully, showing him a little flask. “This contains Baneberry and it would surely not make him feel any pain, but his current state won’t allow me to use it. I have the fear he would slip away – permanently!”
Another thing Yassia had learned from her mother was that it was best to involve the imminently affected, be it relatives or friends into the process and tell them as much as you could without sending them into shock. People who felt involved were less likely to wreak havoc in any way, as they didn’t feel as useless.
The man – Yassia wondered if his name was indeed Arthur as Merlin kept on repeating this name in his otherwise mindless mumblings – even was expert enough to give his friend something to bite and immediately took a good position to hold him down. Nodding commendatorily, Yassia bent over Merlin again.

“Merlin… I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need to cut open your shoulder. It will hurt so prepare for the worst if you can. We will both be here to see you through and I can promise it will be over soon.”
She was almost sure he would not be able to understand half of the words she was directing at him, but this was as much to calm herself as it was to calm him. Step by step, one thing after the other, get it off your list. Yassia even imagined her mother standing at her side, guarding her every movement with watchful eyes. This was the ultimate test and she better passed it. Yassia the princess had been replaced by Yassia the healer for the time being, a transistion she hadn’t even noticed.

Taking one last deep breath she retrieved the now almost white-hot blade from the fire and nodded at her assistant. “Let’s get this over with. On my call: One… two… THREE!”
Sending a quick and breathless prayer to heaven, Yassia sliced into human flesh, a bit tapered to where the actual arrow point was, sending it sizzling and letting off an almost sickening stench. Stay strong, breathe through the mouth only, it’ll be over soon!

Rain and cold… yes, those were the least likeable things about a journey. And of course it was her luck both had gotten her on the same they while she had been still far from any form of shelter. Now she was drenched and shivering, even though she had been sitting in this tavern for quite some time now, her cloak close to the fire were it started to let off that distinctive smell of half wet – half dried wooll. Not very pleasant on the nose. Wringing out her long hair Yassia took a casual look around the dim room, where both innkeeper and his wife were busy serving the very little guests. The rain might have drawn a few in, but business seemed to be low. Hopefully it wouldn’t be reflected in the prices… Who would have thought a woman like her, born to be queen would be thinking of nothing else but money all the time? But fate had chosen to slap right into the face more than once and it always seemed to leave her with less and less money.

Brooding and still shivering she took a sip from the tankard of meade she had ordered a while ago, hoping with all her might something interesting might happen to cheer her up. But that would most likely not be the case, here, in the middle of nowhere. Only listening with half an ear, she heard the landlord and –lady discussing the issue of bandits roaming the forest and valleys of this place. Oh just great! Wouldn’t it be just her luck if she ran into a bandit-set trap tomorrow? And maybe lose a bit more than the few coins she possessed? Really, such news made her wish to finally reach Camelot and be done with it all!

Suddenly, her silent wish seemed to be answered more quickly than she ever would have imagined. The door was opened with such force it crashed against the wall, sending everyone jumping in their seats. Was this the trouble Yassia had just foreseen? Would the bandits dare to attack a tavern?
But when she looked to the door, she saw something a little less threatening if still dramatic. A man was half carrying, half pushing another through the door, both drenched with rain and staggering. His desperate cry for help was left unanswered for the time being as all were too shocked to move. The man sat his friend on a chair and went to lock the door which sent the innkeeper growling. Yassia was inclined to agree, who did this man think he was? And what was so dangerous from outside he needed to shut out the world? His friend was probably already smashed, so why did they seek out another tavern? It was more than –

Then she saw the broken shaft of an arrow protruding from his back and in an instant everything else was forgotten: Rain, cold, annoyance, all that remained were her healer instincts that now kicked in with full force.
Whoever these men were one of them needed help and she was able to give it!
Without further ado she moved to her feet, grabbing for her precious bag that contained her remedies as she was already walking and approached the two men.
“Goodness gracious, what happened? Someone shot him?” it was more of a declaration than a question. Blood was seeping through the makeshift dress which consisted – after all Yassia could tell by a quick glance – of the other’s shirt. Surely not the cleanest means…

“He needs to lie flat, move those two tables together and put him on there!” she ordered, using her authoritative princess voice out of habit. But for the moment this was no matter of status, she simply knew what she was doing and this other man was not.

Carmelide... the name sounded familiar, but Yassia couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and she also didn’t get a clear picture in her mind. Had she actually passed through this land or had she just heard someone talk about it? Was it on the continent or somewhere more south to Albion? Well, she would find out eventually, of that she was pretty sure.“If I’ve been there I can’t remember, sorry!” she apoligized with a smile. “It’s been too many names and places in the last few months. My kingdom” – oh yes, the emphasize might be audible, it was a habit Yassia just couldn’t seem to erase – “is on the continent, far down south, and it’s called…” she dropped her voice so no one but Romily would overhear. She trusted the barmaid better now, but one never knew who might eavesdrop, “Ailantha. Very small, you probably never heard of it.”

Nodding earnestly every once in a while, Yassia listened to Romily’s story. Many of the things the girl told the princess could relate to. Friends had been scarce in her life as well, though she never really had missed it. And there had always been Mircea - - NO! Hadn’t she sworn to herself not to think of him again tonight? Why could she never let him go, not even for a minute?
“A tragic tale!” she commiserated, sighing. “Well, was there even something about the whole issue? I mean, were you and Frederick in… love? Or was your father blind and ignorant?”
How different life stories could be and still come to the same conclusion. Though Yassia still realised she had it better and that she needed to be thankful for that. She had somewhere to go and when she returned to Ailantha it would be in glorious triumph. For Romily on the other hand there was no turning back, and if so in shame.

“Are you in the mood for a story full of wars of succession, treachery and other complicated issues? Stop me when you have enough!” Yassia suggested, then took a deep gulp out of the new tankard, while making a mental note to not drink too hasty. Mead could make your head swim all too soon.
“Well, maybe I should start in saying that I am supposed to become Ailantha’s next queen”, she began, again lowering her voice. “My brother, the heir apparent, had died a few years earlier, but our laws only allow me to take up the crown if I marry. So apparently my uncle Guifré believed his only way to get to power himself was by forcing me to marry his son. Which I didn’t want to but the council of nobles was inclined to agree.”
Yassia was glad she had found out Romily to be a noble, as someone growing up amongst her own kind was better in working through all those confusion details of sucession and inheritance. “That’s why I set out for Camelot”, she continued, taking another sip. “I have a relative there which might be able to help me. But please… keep this to yourself at all costs, Romily, I take a great risk telling you this!”
Then a smile crossed her face. "That's alright, I am low on money that's no secret. But I cannot accept this kind offer, I need to keep going."

Yassia nodded and gave a little chuckle. Romily was quite right there, whoever would want to end up a drunkard? You might forget your sorrows for a while, but they always returned the next morning and even dragging a painful hangover along with them. That couldn’t be worth it! And anyway, on her long way here Yassia had learned on more than one occasion that she was by no means in the worst condition imaginable, there were others who also had it tough, she needn’t forget that. Take Romily, who knew what she had been born to, she didn’t have the demeanour of a low born either, and yet she was working here.
“A loner?” That aroused Yassia’s interest. “But you DO remember where you come from, right?” Realising this might be a very testy subject for the barmaid, she hastily added: “But you don’t have to tell me, you know. I can be too nosy at times.”

Romily’s question stirred up concerns long though forgotten, and for a second Yassia could feel an all too familiar paranoia creeping up on her.
“If they knew where I was I wouldn’t be herefor much longer”, she mused with a nervous little laugh to overplay the unease.
She debated on saying anything else, and in the end she chose to trust Romily. A few steps had already been taken towards honesty and Yassia had realised how good it felt to finally get certain things off her chest. “Truth be told, I ran away from a future that wasn’t mine. The only caring part of my family is dead, and the vultures remained, driving their claws into anything I held dear. So I fled, in hope to find help elsewhere…”

Taking a deep gulp from her tankard, Yassia tried to calm down, while a wave of emotion churned up her inside. Hatred and anger were the most prominent of these raw emotions and hadn’t she feared to start a riot or just come across plainly ridiculous she would have liked to cast the tankard against the wall, imagining to hit Uncle Guifré’s head with it.
“But lately I have lost all hope of every arriving at my destination and I doubt that I could make things any better. So far it hasn’t brought me but pain and hardship.”

It was only natural for a mother-to-be to be anxious about her child’s health, and so Yassia didn’t take the woman’s unease as any form of personal insult. It was not as if her abilities were questioned here, and even if so Yassia was in no position to argue. Dealing with herbs had been a hobby for nearly all her life, something she had learned by the by, never imagining that one day her life may depend on it. And it wouldn’t for much longer anyway, this was just a period in time, rather unpleasant but surely one wgere she had learned a great deal about life.
“Already doing so”, she reassured the pregnant woman and started to add the dried raspberry leaves, grinding the content of the morsar into a fine powder. Of course she could have left the leaves like they were but it was easier dose the amount needed in the grinded state.

That sounded like a really interesting story. Whoever would care about a lone wolf puppy enough to give it to some sort of foster mother? Usually people would rejoice in the fact of one wolf less roaming the earth and Yassia could quite sympathize with this notion, but even she had to admit that this wolf at the woman’s side didn’t pose any threat whatsoever. He would prove a reasonable guard in any way, far better than the best guard dog she could imagine. Odd, the idea of seeing a wolf any different than a beast of prey hadn’t occurred to Yassia before, but it surely was an intriguing one.
“Well, one never knows!” she returned the laugh, finding the woman very amiable all of a sudden. Her candid nature was quite refreshing. “This is a strange country for me after all. For a moment you even reminded me of a story I heard when I was a kid. About a couple that has been cursed in such way that he is a man at day and a wolf at night, and she is a falcon at day and human at night. The only time they can meet is the short period of dawn and twilight.”

Oh yes, beneath all the hardened layers Yassia was still a hopelessly romantic girl, blue eyed even and in some aspects totally innocent.
She was apt enough though to realise something odd an intriguing about the woman’s name. Ambersariyah… that sounded by no means common! In Ailantha only those of higher birth would dare to name their child in such a regal way.
“A name fit for a queen!” she exclaimed thus and maybe a bit too exuberant. “And, not to be overly curious, but it doesn’t sound familiar for this country either. Or am I profoundly mistaken and you are born here?”

Angle, what ‘sort of angle’?! Could anyone be more cryptic about something than Mircea was right now? Yassia felt the all-too-familiar annoyance and impatience creeping up on her, her biggest flaw apart from her temper. The sad thing was that both flaws seemed to account for each other most of the time.
Holding one piece of flint in one hand and the other in ‘some sort of angle’ – feeling like an utter fool already – she tried to work with the instructions Mircea had given her, placing the tinder on the ground like she had seen him doing countless times. This should be easy… right? A walk in the figurative park.

Of course it was not. Whatever angle Mircea had aspired, it seemed not to be one Yassia could figure out. At first the flintstones didn’t even produce sparks like they were supposed to, and when she finally created one, it surely didn’t do her the favor of placing itself directly on the tinder where it belonged. Just great!
With every failure Yassia’s movements grew more choppy and angry, even though she knew that might not help her cause. “Come on, come ON!” she growled at the flint as if this was all not her own inability but sheer malignance of those two grey stones in her hands, taking it upon themselves to give her the hardest time imaginable.

Finally, with a typical furious motion Yassia threw them to the ground, calling after Mircea who hadn’t even walked more than two steps: “Please… show me again or make me SEE it somehow.” Her voice changed from angry to almost piteous. “I’m such a failure! I can’t even do the easiest of things!”
Really, with her being such a total imbecile, how would she ever been able to pull her on weight? She might not need to be able to light a fire to be a queen, but this was borderline dangerous public safety! Looking up at Mircea she braced herself for the scorn her stepbrother would surely let rain down on her now. Oh, he would have a good laugh for sure! Hadn’t it been her in this position she would have surely laughed as well!

Up so close this wolf – Yassia was by now sure it HAD to be a wolf – was even more intimidating, even though it made no attempt to even notice her in any way. But Yassia hadn’t lived at a royal household all her previous life for nothing. The main focus was on never showing fear, because fear was considered the easiest weakness to pick on. Therefore Yassia was able to keep her facial expression under perfect control, even if her eyes every now and again darted towards the huge animal, never really wanting to let it out of her sight.

But as soon as she took a closer look on the woman as well, she realised she must be troubled by something. Oh yes, she smiled and tried to be friendly, but there was just something behind that mask, only showing in her eyes. Was it pain, was it anger, or was it just plain annoyance? Well, to each one of those sentiments Yassia could relate to in this very moment, and so instead of being offended by the woman’s not overly nice tone – and normally being addressed in such a way was a red rag for Yassia – but she was rather feeling sympathy towards her. It was always refreshing to see you were not the only one having it tough.

Yassia’s face lit up when the woman explained her situation. That of course did explain a great deal – and at the same time so did not! If she was pregnant and having typical morning sickness symptoms, why was she so troubled then? A woman expecting should be walking around gleaming from the inside, radiating her joy to her surroundings. But she was not… so there had to be something wrong. But it was not her position to barge into other people’s problems. She should focus on the things she COULD help her with!
“Ah, morning sickness it is then!” she replied with a smile, already busying herself with finding the correct ingredients from the booth and some things she still had hidden inside her bag. “You’re lucky, I don’t have a remedy all done, as I never needed it until now, but I know how it’s done and I have all the necessary ingredients.” She looked up. “So, if you can wait a little longer, I will just put some sort of tea together for you. Ginger and raspberry leaves mostly, if you care to know.”

Having always been a curious person, Yassia immediately wondered what was this woman’s story. So many different fates she had come across in her long journey. Had she ever felt inclined to be a word smith, she might have considered writing a book about them all. Life apparently created the most intriguing and dramatic stories, how own just being another example.