-Artor POV-
'Sothis, what do you mean Boudica is my future wife?!' I screamed in my head, the sheer absurdity of her words hitting me like a physical blow. How could Boudica possibly be my future wife? All I had requested was for Sothis to grant Boudica the ability to wield the Sword of Seiros, a powerful relic, yes, but hardly a proposal of marriage! Was there some obscure Fódlan tradition I was completely unaware of, some ancient custom that interpreted a blessing of martial prowess as a declaration of eternal union?
I could hear Sothis giggling in my head, a sound that sent shivers dancing up my spine. Her celestial voice, usually so serene, held a playful, almost mischievous, lilt as she continued, 'Artor, you asked me to give my daughter's blade upon Boudica, and then to grant her the very power of the Crest of Seiros. Artor, remember that this crest intrinsically links directly to my bloodline from me, not like a trifling crest such as the Gautier house's. I have seen your memories, Artor, and Boudica indeed appears to be a most suitable future wife for you. If you truly desire her to wield my daughter's sacred blade, then my only request, my sole condition, is that you have Boudica as your future wife.' Sothis's words, delivered with such earnestness and a touch of amusement, caused my face to flush a deep crimson. The more she spoke, the more the mortification mounted, until I could do nothing but drop the Sword of Seiros and bury my face in my hands, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of embarrassment.
"Lord Artor, are you okay? Your face is all red," Boudica asked, worried seeing my reaction to Sothis's words. I couldn't help but give Sothis a mental stink eye. I forced a smile onto my face as I turned to Boudica, where I noticed that her body gave off a subtle shine. When I locked eyes with Boudica, I noticed her eyes had become slightly slitted. Did Sothis's blessing give Boudica a slight dragon factor?
"Boudica, how do you feel?" I asked her, wanting to know if Sothis's blessing did anything to her. As I studied her to see if the Crest of Seiros gave her any other obvious signs.
"Hmmm.. I feel stronger, Lord Artor. I never felt this strong before?" Boudica said, confused, as she clenched her hands. Stronger, huh? From what I remember, the Crest of Seiros is supposed to make a wielder stronger. I took a glance at the Sword of Seiros that lay on the ground. Gently taking the blade, I handed it to Boudica.
"Boudica, please take this. I am trusting you to protect the Iceni in my absence," I said to her as I handed her the Sword of Seiros. If there was anyone I could trust, it was Boudica. While there were many words one could use to describe Boudica, the one I chose was *Loyal*. Boudica was possibly one of the most loyal people that I knew. Out of loyalty, she went to war against Rome. Was there vengeance in her quest? Of course. I couldn't blame her for her choices. Boudica and her daughters suffered sickening treatment, but loyalty to her home, land, and family initiated everything. Why wouldn't I trust someone like that?
"Lord Artor, I couldn't," Boudica's voice was firm, laced with a deep-seated conviction as she attempted to push the ornate blade away from me. "This blade," she gestured towards the gleaming steel, "belongs to a warrior who fights for the Iceni. I couldn't possibly take this."
Yet, my resolve was as unyielding as the iron in the sword itself. I pressed the hilt further into her hand, my gaze locked with hers. My thoughts were not on the present, but on Boudica's future, her other self's future. It was this prescience that fueled my insistence, this desire to equip her with a weapon that would serve as a bulwark against the trials to come.
The Sword of Seiros, I believed, was the perfect instrument for such a purpose. The Sword of Seiros's lineage tied it to the ancient and powerful Seiros. A wielder bearing its crest could unlock a potent ability known as Seiros's Favor. This gift, as best as my memory served me, was a regenerative enchantment, healing its bearer in proportion to the damage they inflicted upon their foes. When coupled with the augmentations provided by Divine Glow, an ability that all Sacred Weaponshad was a mystical energy that amplified the healing capabilities of the Sword of Seiros, I felt a measure of peace settle upon my heart. With this blade in her possession, the immediate worries for Boudica's safety receded, replaced by a quiet hope for her strength and survival.
"Boudica, I trust you. I have complete faith that you will bring about great things." My voice, though intended to be firm, trembled slightly as I forced the hilt of the ancestral Iceni blade into her grasp. My own hands, weathered and calloused from years of command, clasped over hers, a physical anchor preventing her from releasing the weighty symbol of leadership. I felt the subtle tension in her fingers, a hesitant, almost reluctant, attempt to relinquish the burden. It was then, in that moment of shared responsibility, that I couldn't help but notice the surprising softness of her hands, a stark contrast to the harsh realities we faced.
"Boudica," I continued, my gaze locking with hers, seeking to imprint my words upon her soul, "when I depart, there will inevitably come a time when the grasping hand of Rome will reach for us again, seeking to inflict their wounds upon the Iceni. This blade is now yours to wield. I implore your aid, your strength, your unwavering spirit in defending our home, for I am utterly certain that you will can protect our home." As I spoke, I poured every ounce of my conviction, my hope, and my sincerity into my words, a testament to the future I know she can secure in my absence.
Boudica looked at me with a complicated look that screamed confusion by my words, "Lord Artor, what makes you so confident I can protect our home?" Boudica asked. Her words made me smile because I didn't even have to think of an answer.
"Boudica, you may not see, but I believe with this blade you become a True Queen of Victory," I said with a smile that grew wider when I saw Boudica's face blush. Seeing her distracted, I let the sword go. Unbeknownst to Boudica, she unconsciously gripped the sword with a firmer hold. I watched as the Sword of Seiros glowed briefly, then died away as it recognized Boudica as a user of the Crest of Seiros.
"Q-Queen?" Boudica stammered, blushing deeply at my words. I smiled at her reaction, finding it cute. Seeing Boudica accept the blade without further hesitation, I stood up to leave my home in search of the local druids.
"Shall make our way to find the local druid Boudica?" I ask with a hand extended. Boudica looked at my hand then with a smile reached for my with a smile.
"Of course, Lord Artor. Let us make haste," Boudica said, reaching for my haversack and handing it to me with a smile. "Don't forget this, Lord Artor," she added with a teasing look. I took the haversack, embarrassed at having forgotten something so important, and the two of us left the roundhouse in search of the local druid.
In the era I found myself, the forest was our sanctuary, and it didn't take long to make our way there. The druids, revered figures in this time, held a position of immense influence; the very kings of the land sought their counsel. Despite my brief sojourn in this life, the frequency with which I had witnessed the druids grace our tribe was beyond measure, occurring more times than could be counted on two hands. Father had regularly sought their wisdom, engaging in earnest discussions with them. They offered him invaluable advice, not only on matters of state and governance but also on the very well-being of the land itself, a testament to their deep connection with the natural world.
In ancient Britain, a land teeming with a vibrant array of fae and spirits, the Druids bore the crucial responsibility of mediating between the mortal realm and the ethereal. The role of druids was paramount, ensuring that the actions of kings and their subjects did not incur the wrath of these powerful beings. I especially didn't want to find myself on the wrong side of a fae. I shudder at the thought of ending up like Doctor Heartless by having my heart stolen or Satsuki Kurogiri like who had his curse that erased his memories. Various people I had knowledge of experienced the fae's influence, and I could discuss them extensively. Ultimately, the significance of the Druids lay in their indispensable function of maintaining a delicate balance, fostering peace between the inhabitants of Britain and the very essence of nature that permeated their land.
As Boudica and I ventured deeper into the forest, the very air seemed to grow more vibrant and pure. I inhaled deeply, a rush of revitalizing energy coursing through me, a stark contrast to the polluted atmosphere of my previous existence. It was moments like these, experiencing the untamed beauty and palpable life force of this era, that I truly cherished my reincarnation. In the modern world, such pristine havens would be but a distant, faded memory, irrevocably lost to progress.
Yet, despite the invigorating embrace of nature, a subtle yet persistent disquiet crept in. My gaze met Boudica's, and the slight tightening of her grip on the Sword of Seiros confirmed my own burgeoning unease. A palpable sense of being observed permeated the hushed stillness of the woods. With every cautious step we took further into the verdant depths, it felt as though unseen eyes tracked our every movement, a silent, watchful presence lurking just beyond the periphery of our vision. The forest, so recently a source of solace, now held an undercurrent of watchful tension, a silent guardian that felt more like a sentinel.
This chill continued to unsettle Boudica and me. Suddenly, I froze as a hand landed on my shoulder. Without hesitation, Boudica and I jumped away. I quickly drew Falchion from my haversack, while Boudica positioned herself defensively with the Sword of Seiros.
"Young prince, what brings you here today?" The druid asked, not phased by Falchion and the Sword of Seiros. But I could see that the druid gave a curious look at the two blades. Slowly bringing Falchion down, I gaze a curious look at the druid, not recognizing the druid as one that I knew of.
"Who are you? I don't recognize you," I asked the druid bluntly. Out of all the druids I've seen entering the village, he wasn't one I knew. The druid before me seemed to be middle-aged, a far cry from the younger druids who seem to advise my father. This druid struck me as a lot more pleasant compared to the younger ones I've encountered. Most of the young druids who've entered the village seemed entitled, acting as if their druidic status granted them an inherent say in the matters of the tribe. While they never quite crossed the line into outright arrogance, their demeanor always seemed to teeter on the edge.
The rough parchment crackled slightly as Boudica, her movements surprisingly graceful despite the worn leather of her tunic, jabbed a finger into my side. "Lord Artor," she chided, her voice an inaudible murmur that carried a hint of steel, "be more polite." She then turned her attention to the ancient druid before us, offering a respectful bow. "I am sorry, Lord Druid," she continued, her tone softening, "Lord Artor and I come seeking your wisdom." A knowing chuckle rumbled from the druid, a sound like stones shifting deep within the earth, as he regarded us with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages.
"It is fine, children; these are trying times with the passing of Lord Prasutagus," the druid said, and my hand gripped Falchion tight, my knuckles whitening.
"Murder," I spat out, cutting the druid off. "Prasutagus was murdered. Do not make it sound like he passed in his sleep," I ordered the druid, my voice a low growl that brooked no argument. I disliked using my status to command anyone, but I would not tolerate any pretense that Prasutagus had died peacefully in his slumber. My brother was killed, and I would ensure everyone knew the brutal truth of how it happened.
"Peace, young prince, we of the land know the truth of Prince Prasutagus's death," the druid said as he raised his hand to calm me. I took a deep breath to calm my built-up rage. I felt my hand being squeezed by Boudica as her touch calmed my rage, and I gestured for the druid to speak.
"Young prince, I am Nohki, leader of the druids of Serenes Forest," Nohki stated, his voice resonating with the ancient wisdom of the woods. "What knowledge have you and Lady Boudica come to seek?" He observed us with keen, emerald eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of centuries. A faint hesitation flickered within me; the weight of our purpose felt immense, and the path ahead uncertain. However, the gentle squeeze of Lady Boudica's hand, her calming presence a silent reassurance, bolstered my resolve. With newfound courage, I met Nohki's gaze and prepared to voice the urgent questions that had brought us to this sacred grove.
"Nohki, is there a spell that you have knowledge of that can erase the presence from the minds of everyone in the tribe? Except for Boudica," I asked, and Nohki's eyes widened at my question, shocked by what I said.
"Young prince, I understand this is a difficult time, but why are you trying to run away from home? In times like these, we need to stay united," Nohki said, attempting to dissuade me. However, his words only strengthened my resolve.
"Nohki, this is because of the passing of their senator that I must undertake this dangerous mission. The Romans, in their unyielding pursuit of justice, will undoubtedly investigate the cause of the noble's death. When they discover I am the sole survivor of the dragon attack, they will inevitably turn their wrath upon me. They will not cease their torment of our people until I am brought to justice. My mother and father have granted me their blessing to train under the tutelage of the immortal witch, a path I must follow to gain the strength needed. However, with my absence, someone must remain to protect our home. I have chosen Boudica for this solemn duty. Her youth will serve as a shield; no one would ever suspect her involvement, rendering her an unlikely target in the Romans' search."
I explained my reasoning to Nohki, whose face contorted with resigned understanding. He knew my words held an unvarnished truth. If there was one thing that all of Britain understood with chilling clarity, it was the unforgiving and vengeful nature of the Romans.
"My lord prince, I agree with you. When a Roman noble dies, the Romans will retaliate. There's no question about it, especially since the current emperor is so easily swayed by his wife," Nohki said. I couldn't help but be confused. Emperor Claudius is controlled by his wife?
"Nohki, who is the current empress of Rome?" I asked, and the next words out of Nohki's mouth made my head throb with pain.
"Prince, the current empress is Lady Agrippina," Nohki said, and I couldn't help the groan that escaped me. Of all the people who could be empress, it had to be Agrippina. Suddenly, my understanding of why Rome would have a beast in the future made sense.
"I must say, that woman is quite dreadful," Sothis remarked, appearing beside me. I had to stifle a yelp at her sudden arrival. "From reviewing your memories, I've never encountered such a dreadful woman in all my time. I believed no one could surpass the disgusting nobles of Fódlan," she continued, her features contorting with rage, her eyes narrowing to slits. It was at this moment I caught a small glimpse of Sothis's true form as green scales appeared around her eyes before they disappeared.
Sothis locked eyes with me, and a primal shiver traced its way down my spine, a visceral reaction to the intensity of her gaze. I didn't need her to utter a single word; the unspoken demand was already etched into the very air between us. "Artor," her voice, devoid of any warmth or discernible emotion, cut through the silence, each syllable carrying a chilling weight that amplified my involuntary shudder. "I want that evil woman dead. I do not know how you achieve this, but her head must be separated from her body."
The starkness of her command resonated with terrifying authority. I recalled reading stories from my past life, of when divine beings issued pronouncements to mortals. Back then, it was mere academic curiosity, a fascinating anthropological footnote. Now, experiencing it firsthand, I understood the raw, unassailable power inherent in such words. There was no room for negotiation, no possibility of refusal. Sothis would not tolerate dissent, and the unyielding finality in her voice left no doubt that her will was to be done. The weight of her directive settled upon me, a burden both terrifying and absolute.
Not trusting my words, I nodded in agreement with Sothis's commands. Boudica and Nohki scanned the surrounding forest. Sothis's fury was so intense that they could momentarily feel its presence. Boudica appeared uneasy as she surveyed the area, while Nohki's gaze darted around with clear terror.
I cleared my throat, hoping to get Nohki's attention and have him focus on me, not Sothis. "Nohki, the spell, if you would?" I asked the druid. He gave one last look around before nodding his head, fear clear in his eyes.
"Of course, young prince, let us go to my home," Nohki said, his voice warm and welcoming as the three of us departed the forest clearing. The journey, though short, felt like stepping into another world. Nohki's abode was not a structure of stone or wood, but a marvel of organic architecture, intricately carved into the trunk of a colossal tree that pulsed with an almost palpable vitality. Sunlight dappled through the impossibly broad leaves overhead, casting shifting patterns on the mossy ground as we approached.
Honestly, the home was quite nice, exceeding my expectations for a dwelling so deeply integrated with nature. The entrance, a graceful archway woven from living branches, led into a surprisingly spacious interior. Smooth wood formed the walls, curving organically to create comfortable nooks and levels. Soft light emanated from luminescent fungi cultivated within small alcoves, casting a gentle, ethereal glow. I could easily imagine this place as a peaceful retirement home, a sanctuary far removed from the demands of the world. 'Maybe one day,' I mused to myself, the thought a quiet whisper against the backdrop of rustling leaves and distant birdsong, 'when I no longer have to deal with politics anymore.' The sheer tranquility of Nohki's dwelling was a powerful allure, a stark contrast to the gilded cages and endless negotiations of court life.
Nohki greeted Boudica and me with a warm smile as he ushered us into his home. The moment we crossed the threshold, the air within seemed to shimmer with an unseen energy, a palpable magic that sent a distinct chill down my spine. My gaze immediately sought Nohki, my eyes silently questioning the peculiar sensation.
He seemed to notice my reaction, and a faint crease appeared between his brows. "Ah, Prince," he began, his voice carrying a note of surprise, "that would be the bounded fields surrounding my home you sense. It seems you are quite sensitive to magic, indeed, if you could perceive them. I confess, I may need to review the enchantment," he added, a hint of frustration coloring his tone. The way his lips pursed suggested he was not entirely pleased that I could detect his wards, as if my sensitivity implied a flaw in his own magical prowess.
With a gesture, Nohki led Boudica and me to his library, a chamber that immediately overwhelmed the senses. Countless ancient and weathered tablets, etched with forgotten languages, lined the walls, interspersed with tightly rolled scrolls, their bindings fragile with age. As Nohki moved through the seemingly endless stacks, a palpable disorientation set in. It was as if the very architecture of the library was subtly shifting, the pathways between shelves elongating and contracting, the distances between objects appearing to warp. This illusory labyrinth seemed designed to confound any uninvited guest, its very essence resisting comprehension, ensuring that only Nohki, its master, could navigate its depths and access its hidden knowledge. The air itself felt thick with an almost tangible magic, a subtle hum that resonated with the untold stories held within the thousands of texts.
It seemed like an eternity until Nohki found the tablet he was looking for. "Prince Artor, are you sure this is the action you wish to take? Until I dispel this magic, everyone but Lady Boudica will believe you have died." Nohki said as he tried to persuade me to change my thoughts.
The weight of my decision pressed down on me, a suffocating blanket woven from potential consequences. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to consider the sheer magnitude of the act. Was feigning my death, a performance designed to shock and awaken, truly the wisest path? The grief I would inflict upon those I held dear, the void I would carve in their lives — these were not insignificant costs, and they offered no absolution for my calculated deception. As I found myself adrift in this sea of introspection, the gentle touch of a hand on my cheek pulled me back from the brink of despair.
It was Boudica. An understanding softened her gaze. "Lord Artor," she began, her voice a low, resonant murmur that vibrated with conviction, "while I may not fully condone your methods, I believe in your purpose. The Iceni, as they stand, are vulnerable. Your chosen course, though it will undoubtedly bring heartache in its wake, is a sacrifice for a future brighter than we can currently imagine. Go now, Lord Artor," she implored, her hands cupping my face, her touch sending a tremor of warmth through me I could not suppress. "Secure victory for our people." Her words, delivered with such unwavering faith, were the anchor I desperately needed, solidifying the resolve that had wavered. The path ahead was fraught with peril, but with Boudica's blessing, I knew I could not falter.
"Nohki cast the spell. Make it so that only you and Boudica remember my survival." I ordered Nohki, who gave me a single nod as he prepared the spell. "Boudica, thank you. I trust you to protect my family and home." I said to her, my tone filled with gratefulness from the courage she gave me. Held with a smile, she held my hand as we waited for Nohki to begin the spell.
Nohki coughed, interrupting us. "Young prince, are you ready?" he asked. I saw Boudica give him a dirty look. I laughed at her reaction, and she realized what she'd done, blushing with embarrassment.
"Nohki, what's the name of the spell and what does it do?" I asked the druid, who, with an uncomfortable cough, explained the spell.
"Young prince, the spell is simply called 'Forget'. It allows the caster to choose one event, place, person, or anything else the target knows about, and selectively erase parts of it, or all of it. The spell can range from removing specific details to completely wiping all reference to it from people's minds." Nohki explained, his words causing both Boudica's and my eyes to widen. I couldn't help but be amazed. I knew spells in this era were stronger than those in the modern day, but not to this extent.
"What is the drawback?" I asked, thinking how no spell could be this perfect. Nohki gave me a nod, proving my words that this spell must have some drawback.
"Prince, this spell is only effective until someone learns the truth," Nohki explained. "If anyone discovers you're alive, the spell will weaken until it breaks." I nodded in understanding. It made sense; no spell was perfect unless you possessed true magic.
"Nohki, cast the spell. Make everyone forget I'm alive, except for you and Boudica," I commanded again, my voice thick with urgency. Without a moment's hesitation, Nohki began the incantation. Boudica and I watched as his body glowed with potent magic, a vibrant green aura enveloping him as the ancient words wove their silencing effect. In that charged moment, Boudica and I locked eyes. I offered a single, reassuring nod, which she returned with a look of unwavering resolve. "I'm trusting you, Boudica," I said, a smile gracing my lips. She mirrored my nod, her expression now filled with a fierce determination that spoke volumes. I could only smile back, recognizing in that resolute gaze the very spark that would one day forge her legend as a warrior queen. With a flash of light, we watched as the spell expanded throughout the land, surrounding the entire tribe.
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-Boudica POV-
The biting wind whipped strands of hair across my face as I watched Lord Artor. His movements were precise, almost methodical, as he secured the worn leather straps of his haversack and smoothed the fabric of his tunic. Though our acquaintance had been brief, a mere handful of sunrises and sunsets, it felt as though our souls had been intertwined for an eternity. My breath hitched in my throat, a sudden, traitorous flutter in my chest, as our eyes met across the dusty courtyard. In that stolen moment, I unconsciously clenched the hilt of the blade he had entrusted to me, its familiar weight a stark contrast to the tremor in my hand.
The weight of Lord Artor's given blade settled into my palm, sending a tremor of anticipation through my veins. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a drumbeat heralding a new chapter. Without a doubt, it was the most exquisite weapon I had ever seen. The hilt, intricately carved and cool to the touch, appeared to be fashioned from a single piece of polished, milky marble, its surface swirling with subtle, pearlescent veins. The blade itself, impossibly slender and sharp, twisted and turned rather than being straight like a normal blade. It seemed ill-suited for combat, yet a primal knowing settled within me: this was no mere decoration. This blade would cleave through whatever stood in its path, a truth that was soon to be proven. Driven by insatiable curiosity, I took it to the edge of the training grounds, where a gnarled, ancient oak stood sentinel. With a single, fluid motion, the blade sang through the air. There was no resistance, no struggle, only a whisper as the ancient wood parted as cleanly as if severed by a breath. The two halves of the tree, moments before a single entity, now stood as silent testaments to the blade's uncanny, almost magical, capability.
The forest floor trembled as the ancient oak, a victim of my clumsy swing, crashed to the earth with a deafening roar. A wave of shame washed over me, a blush I could feel creeping up my neck. Lord Artor, ever the jester, erupted in boisterous laughter, his booming voice echoing through the suddenly silent woods. But Lord Nohki, his face a mask of consternation, could only stare in horrified disbelief at my errant strike. Never had my own actions so thoroughly mortified me.
Shaking off the lingering embarrassment, my gaze shifted to the object of my current fascination: my new blade. Its polished surface gleamed, catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the remaining canopy. I drew it from its scabbard, the smooth steel singing a low, resonant note. "The Sword of Seiros," I murmured, testing the weight and balance. Even the name itself seemed to hum with unspoken tales, a history I was yet to uncover. Lord Artor had mentioned its previous wielder, a woman said to be the daughter of a goddess, a detail that only deepened the mystique surrounding this exquisite weapon.
The very thought of wielding the blade of a demigod made me dizzy. I had attempted to return the blade to Lord Artor upon learning of its tumultuous history, but he insisted he had explicitly granted permission to give it to me. His words, however, only amplified my panic. The sheer notion of a goddess knowing that I, a mere mortal, possessed the sacred weapon of her child sent a shiver down my spine. The way Lord Artor had spoken to a goddess, with such unwavering resolve and dignity, was both astonishing and, I must admit, made me admire him all the more, even as it deepened my apprehension.
It is well known among the Iceni that Lord Artor's ancestor was Cú Chulainn. To learn that he had spoken to a goddess only made me admire him more. To think that he would trust me to protect our tribe and his parents made me puff my chest out with pride. I knew that once Lord Artor left, I would train until my very being was filled with power.
"Speaking of power?" I muttered, the words barely escaping my lips as a wave of confusion washed over me. It had been days since Lord Artor had given me the Sword of Seiros, and ever since that moment, my very being had been suffused with an unknown, exhilarating energy. A potent strength surged through my veins, a feeling so profound and unfamiliar that it was difficult to comprehend. I felt an almost primal power awakening within me, a stark contrast to the limitations I had always accepted. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined possessing such a capability, such an inherent force. The sword, a cool weight in my hand, seemed to hum with a latent energy that resonated deep within my soul. I knew with an unshakeable certainty that settled in the pit of my stomach that with this weapon, this newfound strength, I could finally, truly protect our people. The responsibility was immense, but for the first time, I felt capable of shouldering it.
"Boudica, are you ready?" Lord Artor asked, and his words made me jump. How embarrassing! I'd completely forgotten he was there. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I hadn't even noticed him.
"Yes, Lord Artor," I said, ignoring the smile on his face as my face grew warm.
"It's time for me to leave, Boudica. I trust you to protect everyone." Lord Artor said, and I puffed my chest out.
"You can count on Lord Artor to protect everyone," I said with determination, as I knew that with Lord Artor's trust I could protect our home. Lord Artor gave me a smile as he held my hand and brought to his head. I felt my face warm from his actions. We stood like that for what felt like forever before we parted.
"I'm off, Boudica. I will see you in five winters from now," Lord Artor declared, his voice carrying across the wind-swept plains. His words echoed the solemn promise he had made to me, a commitment that I had held close to my heart. As Lord Artor turned to embark on his arduous journey, my gaze followed him, a profound sadness washing over me as I watched him recede into the distance. The thought of his absence for such a long span weighed heavily on me.
However, the somber mood was abruptly shattered by Lord Artor's next utterance, a casual addendum that struck me with the force of a physical blow. "Boudica," he called back, his tone shifting from farewell to an almost apologetic afterthought, "I forgot to mention that the Goddess said that we must marry if I use her daughter's blade. Sorry, I forgot to say." The words hung in the air, a chilling pronouncement that rendered me immobile, frozen in disbelief. The revelation, delivered with such casualness, hinted at a consequence far more profound and binding than I could have ever imagined. His words ignited a flush of heat through me, my heart skipping a beat as I grappled with their implications.
I knelt down, the cool earth pressing against my knees, and let Lord Artor's words echo in my mind. My gaze followed his retreating figure as he disappeared over the distant horizon, a solitary silhouette against the fading light. "Lord Artor, you dummy," I muttered under my breath, a hint of exasperation mingling with the tremor in my voice. "If you're going to propose to me, at least say it properly next time." As the thought took hold, my heart skipped a beat, a sudden, exhilarating flutter that made me momentarily forget the confusion. I allowed myself to dwell on the possibilities, a dizzying swirl of "what ifs" as I contemplated the unexpected turn our future might now take.
Chapter 3: Night of Farewells End
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Sorry for the late chapter. Needed to get back into it again, I will post a chapter tomorrow for Key in Amphoreus. Nohki is a cameo from my favorite D&D video and the spell Forget is from D&D.