Maxwell

  “The first leg of our journey went off not with a bang, but with a whimper. We left Hilfen at first light, to little fanfare and much consternation. For what is there to celebrate about a group of doomed men headed for the end of the world?

  My dearest Sarah never came around to understanding the importance of my quest. That is regrettable, for I carry the fate of us all. So long as the Corrupted One yet draws sepulchral breath, there is no future for man. He must die, so that we can live - of this, I am certain. And yet…

  There is a part of me that wavers. A part that tells me I shall never see my wife and child again. And to think I left things in such a sorry state between me and Sarah… Truly, there seems to be no end to my folly.” - Writings of the Sword-Saint, 2155 Post Separation (PS).

  It was the night of the banquet, and the city of Fogveil lay in silence. The towering trees that defined its foundation stood sentinel above sleeping streets, their thick canopies weaving together to block out the night sky. High within their branches, the Forum awaited, its grand chamber nestled close to the heart of Fogveil's oldest tree.

  Tonight, the most powerful would gather for an evening of grandeur, where deals would be made and alliances forged. Somewhere deep within that opulence, I would be standing beside Amelie, an outsider dressed in borrowed finery, trying not to feel like an intruder in a world that was not my own.

  My reflection in the mirror looked like someone else entirely. The tailor had insisted on a charcoal suit with emerald accents, fitted to perfection, and I had not the nerve to argue. My hair had been slicked back, the stubble on my chin removed, and my posture - strange as it felt - seemed impossibly proper.

  Tapping my foot against the midnight-blue carpet, I waited for my date to appear, my nerves running wild as the seconds ticked by. The flicker of torchlight played against the walls, casting a warm, golden hue that failed to soothe my restlessness.

  For all my preparation, I could not help but wonder if I was making a mistake. I was not meant to be at such a gathering. I was not meant to stand beside someone like her, to navigate the sea of nobles and scheming dignitaries. I was not meant to play this role. But Amelie had asked me to accompany her, and so here I was.

  A part of me dreaded the night to come. I was hardly familiar with Alwaarian customs, after all, and this would be my first introduction to polite society beyond Amelie and Rachel. In addition, there was the small matter of me carrying a sigil on my back that constituted a monumental secret of tremendous consequence, which could get me into all kinds of trouble should it happen to be discovered.

  And yet, for all the trepidation that came with such uncertainties, there was still a part of me that reveled in the opportunity presented. After all, what man would not take at least some pleasure in the thought of attending a function with a literal princess as his date?

  The sound of Amelie’s voice ripped me from my churning thoughts, as she called out to me from the top of the stairway. My eyes lifted to meet hers, only to widen in shock.

  The person in front of me did not look much like Amelie at all. They had done something to her hair; it was no longer flowing and curly, but sleek and lustrous, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Her shapely form was draped in robes of the finest silk - low-cut, and colored a deep emerald - and she was holding herself differently. There was a regality and boldness to her posture that I had seldom seen her assume, an air of composed aplomb cultivated through years of experience with courts and the nobility.

  It was Amelie as I had never beheld her before, wearing her birthright not with indifference, but with pride.

  She descended the stairs with an effortless grace that seemed to defy the weight of all we had been through. Each step was measured, deliberate, as if she was not just approaching, but stepping into a role she had long neglected. The light of the torches caught the deep green of her robe, casting the lines of her cheekbones into sharp focus.

  "Maxwell," she greeted with a nod. "I hope I have not kept you waiting long.”

  “Not to worry,” I said, fighting the urge to gawk at her openly. “The tailor kept me busy.”

  She reached the bottom of the stairs, and paused just a step away from me. Her scent, a mixture of the rosemary and lavender from the bath the day prior, mingled with something headier, and more intoxicating. She tilted her head, studying me with a gaze that was far too discerning for comfort.

  "You look beautiful," I said, my tone softer, more earnest. Such mundane flattery felt wholly inadequate to capture the sight of her, but it was all I had.

  “Thank you,” she said, her lips twitching into a small, almost wistful smile. “It has been some time since last I had to play the part of the noblewoman. It feels… unfamiliar.”

  “W-Well, I’d say you’re pulling it off quite well,” I coughed, before offering her my arm. “Shall we?”

  “After you,” she said, interlocking her elbow with mine.

  Together, we set out for the banquet hall, which lay beyond the set of double doors marking the entrance to the tailor’s boutique and across the lantern-lit bridge that ran between the trees. The planks gave no sway as we crossed; the ancient wood easily supporting our weight despite its weathered appearance.

  I stole a glance at Amelie as we walked. The transformation that had rendered me speechless before had not diminished in the slightest. If anything, the moonlight only worked to accentuate the elegance she now exuded, casting a silver glow across her dark hair and illuminating the emerald fabric of her robes. Set against the vivid backdrop of a city in the trees, she looked otherworldly.

  Walking beside her in my tailored yet modest attire, I could not help but feel like an impostor.

  “Maxwell,” she said, catching my eyes in the act. “You are quiet tonight. Why is that?”

  “Oh, you know,” I said, looking away. “Just thinking. This whole thing, this banquet… It’s so far beyond anything I’m accustomed to. It’s like… I keep waiting for someone to figure out I don’t belong here.”

  “You do belong,” she said. “Your place is with me. Where I go, you go.”

  “And that's all well and good, but you can't deny that our relationship is one borne mostly of circumstance,” I argued, without truly knowing why. “I mean, it could’ve just as easily been someone else I’d met in Galwen that night. It just so happened to be you.”

  Amelie slowed her pace, pausing upon the bridge to regard me with silent deliberation. I promptly came to a halt as well, and turned to face her.

  “Maybe so,” she said, lips pressed into a thin line, “but I am not in the business of entertaining every individual that just so happens to cross paths with me. You say our relationship is one of circumstance, and that may have been true… in the beginning. Now, it is something else entirely, and you know that just as well as I.”

  Her words struck me with a clarity I could not ignore. There was a conviction in her tone, an unspoken depth that made my doubts feel petty and foolish. I swallowed hard, glancing away as the weight of her gaze pressed down upon me.

  She was right, of course. Circumstance may have brought us together, but was it not so with every relationship? Two people united by fortuity, in a time and place of no particular importance, facilitating the development of a bond and connection? I never would have ended up in a relationship with Petra, for instance, if fate had not seen fit to put us both in the same country, town and school at the same time. Did that somehow invalidate our friendship?

  Of course not.

  “You’re right,” I said, shaking my head. “It was a stupid thought. I apologize.”

  Amelie's expression softened, her eyes reflecting a warmth I had not expected. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Do not apologize. It is natural to question, especially that which feels grand and unfamiliar.” Her fingers lingered for a moment before she withdrew them, her gaze searching mine for something unspoken. “But you are here because you earned your place, not because of chance.”

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  I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died on my lips. Earned my place? Beside her? How ridiculous. I was no noble, no warrior nor scholar of great renown. I was simply Maxwell, an unremarkable kid from an unremarkable place. And yet… here I was, accompanying a princess to a banquet in a different world.

  How unbelievable a truth.

  Amelie’s presence was grounding, however. And the look in her eyes forced me to set aside my doubts, at least for now. With a slight nod, I straightened my back, and tried to gather some semblance of courage.

  “Well,” I said, offering her a half-smile. “If you say so, then I’ll try to believe it.”

  She chuckled, the sound easing the tension.

  “I do say so,” she smiled back. “And I do mean it.”

  We resumed our walk in companionable silence, beneath the lucent moon filtering in through the branches. The wind, fragrant with the scent of pine and earth, carried distant sounds from the Forum hall above; light chatter, the clink of glasses, the lilting trill of music.

  Ahead of us on the bridge, a finely dressed couple walked hand-in-hand, their voices soft, blending in with the sounds of the night. The woman, a tall redhead in an amethyst dress, towered above her date, who looked slim of build and meek of nature. The uncertain gait of his walk, the slump of his shoulders and the ever-so slight fretfulness with which he seemed to regard the world all spoke to a man who did not feel at all comfortable in his own skin.

  As much as I resented it, I could not help but see a bit of myself in him. That same feeling of unbelonging reflected back at me, the wavering companion to someone far more powerful and self-assured.

  I did my best not to linger on the comparison.

  On the other side of the bridge, two guards in padded gambesons and boiled leather stood watch by the entrance. The tall, carved doors to the banquet hall lay open behind them, revealing a grand staircase ascending further up the tree. As we approached, they cast a single look at Amelie, who nodded to them with a reserved dignity.

  “Up the staircase and through the doors,” one of them said as we passed, not bothering to address us properly. “Cause any trouble and we’ll know.”

  “Rest assured we will behave ourselves,” Amelie said. “Have a pleasant evening.”

  And then, we were inside, taking the steps at a leisurely pace as we climbed further still up the tree. All around us, carved wooden panels adorned the walls, shaped with patterns made to resemble strange creatures and foreign places. Overhead, crystal lanterns hung from branches like glowing motes, bathing the steps in amber light.

  I could all but feel the tension in my shoulders, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Amelie, on the other hand, looked unfazed. Each step she took radiated composure, as though attending an event of this magnitude was commonplace to her. Mayhaps it was.

  As we neared the top, the low hum of chatter and music grew louder. The double doors to the banquet hall opened to a sweeping view of the chamber, which promptly stole the very breath from my lungs.

  An enormous chandelier made of crystal glass descended from a ceiling of leaves, connected to a vast network of branching arteries that constituted the veins of the tree itself. Colossal paintings decorated the walls, framed in golden wood that gave an odd shimmer to the surface. All about the open space, guests of all shapes and sizes milled about between tables lined with lavish displays of food. At the far end of the room, an immense window overlooked the forest, offering a breathtaking view of the landscape beyond, which lay nestled beneath a blanket of rainbow stars.

  At the center of it all stood a raised platform, where the more prominent guests had gathered. Nobles and dignitaries from distant lands, adorned in finery that made my modest attire feel woefully inadequate. Their mere presence exuded an air of frigid inaccessibility, a “look-but-don’t-approach” effect that was highly effective against my already-frayed nerves.

  Alas, Amelie was our helmsman this evening, and she had her eyes set firmly upon that most eminent of tables. She led us deeper into the hall, nodding to a few familiar faces as we passed, but not stopping to engage. Her target was the center; the very place I least wanted to intrude upon.

  “Amelie,” a voice called out, smooth like honey. A woman in a silver gown approached, her chestnut curls pinned up with delicate jewels that sparkled under the light. She smiled warmly, though her silver-grey eyes held a calculating gleam. “It’s been far too long.”

  “Lady Elena,” Amelie said, her tone respectful yet distant. “A pleasure to see you again.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to find you here, of all places,” Lady Elena continued, raising a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Last I heard, you were out in the Darkenlands on one of those… expeditions of yours.”

  “Yes, well…” Amelie said. “Our Delve ended early. Unforeseen complications and the like.”

  “Ahh, I see,” Lady Elena nodded. “That makes sense. Though I must say, it seems a dangerous endeavor, does it not? To venture forth beyond the safety of The Long Divide, to chart a course through that most infested of hellscapes?”

  “It is not for the faint of heart, no,” Amelie said, her eyes flitting over to the table in the center. “Alas, we cannot allow ourselves to grow complacent in the face of evil. Sometimes, it must be faced directly.”

  Lady Elena’s eyes glittered with something almost predatory, though her smile remained polite. “Such noble convictions. You’ve always had a way with ambition, Amelie. But one does wonder, of course…” She cast a subtle glance in my direction, brows furrowing. “And who might this be? I can’t say I recognize him.”

  I stiffened beneath the weight of her scrutiny, but before I could fumble for words, Amelie’s grip on my arm tightened, drawing my attention back to her.

  “This is Maxwell,” she said, as if the name alone was ample explanation. “We met on my last Delve. It is a long and tedious story, but suffice it to say that… I would not be here today if not for him.”

  The sincerity in her tone took me by surprise, but seemed to have a different effect on Lady Elena. Her expression did not falter, but the calculating gleam in her eyes grew sharper, and more pronounced. An indulgent smile played upon her lips, as if Amelie’s words somehow amused her.

  “Really?” she began, regarding me with newfound interest. “This one, you say? Hmm… Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I suppose he’s as good as anyone else… Pleasing enough on the eyes, in a mundane sort of way… Say, boy, have you fucked her yet?”

  A shocked silence descended upon our gathering. For a moment, I simply stared at Lady Elena, unable to comprehend the question. Then, when its scandalous nature became too loud to ignore, I opened my mouth to respond, and… nothing. I said nothing. The words promptly lost themselves in the paralyzing mix of disbelief and confusion coursing through my mind.

  All the while, Lady Elena watched me, her eyes alight with the spirit of a predator toying with its prey. The amusement writ plain on her features made it clear she was waiting for my reaction, waiting to see how I would handle such a curveball.

  Before I could rise to the challenge, however, Amelie moved to respond. I felt her shift beside me, akin to a silent storm brewing upon the horizon. Every part of her being radiated with poorly-restrained anger, yet restrained it was, and restrained it would remain.

  “Lady Elena,” she started, her voice tempered with an edge that would not be ignored. “You forget yourself.”

  “Oh, come now,” Lady Elena pouted, shaking her head. “It was simple jest. We’re all friends here. There’s no need for such hostility.”

  Without preamble, a powerful anger suddenly gripped me, and I felt a sneer overcome my features.

  “What I have or haven’t done with Miss Harthway is none of your concern, lady,” I said, unable to contain my irritation. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have other business to attend to. Good day.”

  Lady Elena blinked, caught off guard by my sudden retort. Her playful, almost predatory smirk faltered, to be replaced by a look of surprise. Before she could conjure up a fitting response, however, we were off, with me leading Amelie by the hand deeper into the crowd.

  As we walked, I could feel Amelie’s eyes on me, burning with an intensity that matched the heat yet simmering in my chest. I did not know what had come over me just then, but one thing was certain: I was not about to apologize for it.

  “Maxwell,” Amelie said, her voice low but steady as we slipped away from the other guests and towards one of the enormous paintings. “You surprised me just now.”

  I glanced back at her, wary of her reaction. “Surprised you?” I said. “Surprised you how?”

  She stopped, forcing me to face her fully. The golden glow of the chandelier danced in her eyes, reflecting a mixture of amazement and, perhaps, admiration back at me. “You handled that far better than I expected you to.”

  I blinked. “Really? I just… did what felt right, in the moment. It probably wasn’t a very smart thing to say.”

  “And yet, in so doing, you defended my honor,” she said, a warm smile upon her lips. “That is not something I take for granted.”

  “W-Well, you’re welcome,” I said, attempting to deflect some of the weight from her words. “Though Stonefather knows you don’t need me to defend you. You’re plenty capable of doing that on your own.”

  “Perhaps,” she smiled. “But that is not the point I am trying to make. Honestly… You can be such an airhead sometimes.”

  I made to defend myself from these most venomous of accusations, but before I could utter a single word, Amelie surprised me by stepping closer. Much closer. Her eyes softened, the faintest trace of mischief in them. For a brief moment, I thought she might reprimand me for my outburst again. But instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, and leaned in. And before I could truly register what was happening, I felt the warmth of her lips brush against my cheek.

  It was just a quick kiss, a fleeting press of the lips, but it lingered in the air between us long after she had pulled away. My heart lurched in my chest, and the world around us seemed to blur, fading into obscurity save for the lingering warmth on my cheek, where she had kissed me.

  I blinked in stunned silence, my mouth opening and closing in a perpetual loop. A part of me was certain I had imagined it. Amelie, however, looked as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. A faint blush dusted her cheeks, but she stood tall, regal as ever, her eyes locked onto mine with that same playful glint in them.

  “That was for defending me,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion. “Even when I did not ask for it.”

  My hand reached up to the spot where her lips had touched my skin, as though I could somehow preserve the feeling. “Y-You’re welcome,” I stammered, for lack of a better response.

  Her smile widened as she took a step back, releasing me from the tension of the moment. “Come now. We still have a banquet to attend, do we not?”

  It took me a moment to find my footing again, but I managed a nod, as if her kiss had not just unraveled every part of my heart and soul. “Right. The banquet. Of course.”

  “Let us be about it then,” she said, offering me her arm once more. “Rest assured this evening promises more excitement.”

  And so, with a maelstrom of emotions yet stirring within me, I locked arms with the woman I adored, allowing her presence to steady the frantic beating of my heart. Together, we would face whatever this night had in store for us, no matter how grand or perilous. And that was a comforting thought to a man hopelessly lost in a world not his own.

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