It is a dark and dangerous time in the normally peaceful land of Larion. A war between two brothers, vying for the throne, has erupted. The kingdom spirals into a civil war as the people choose sides. The fighting and chaos has caused death, destruction, and misery as the conflict spreads. Towns have been destroyed, peoples have been displaced, and lives have been ruined. Refugees fleeing the carnage head for the edges of the kingdom, trying to escape the conflict.
However, these troubles are far from my mind as my boots crunch on the freshly fallen snow, the cobblestone path back to Rosewood Manor, my home, covered in a thin layer of white powder. Reaching down, I scratch the neck of my dog, a large Bernese hound named Willow, through her thick, soft fur. She pants heavily in the cold air, her hot breath leaving little clouds that float away.
"I'm sure you are glad the cold weather is finally here." Willow only cocks her head at my comment, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. I smile, continuing down the path. "You get so warm running around the gardens, I'm sure the winter is a nice change for you." Willow just continues to walk, oblivious to the meaning of my words, but enjoying the sound of my voice.
Rosewood Manor, my home, has a very beautiful, tranquil, and safe feel. It is located on the outskirts of a small village, right on the edge of Larion's border with a neighboring country. Thanks to my proximity to the border, the warring factions keep their distance, not wanting to drag a third party into the conflict and potentially change the balance of power. But as Willow growls at a misshapen bundle of tattered blankets in a pile against the wall of the estate, I wonder if some small part of the conflict has found its way here.
Curious, I approach the bundle, only to see it move and shift. Drawing my sword, the metal clears the scabbard with a satisfying sound that makes Willow bark and plant herself between me and the bundle, ready to defend. Reaching down, I rest a gloved hand on the dogs' shoulder, causing her to quiet. Cautiously, I poke the tip of the blade into the center of the bundle, causing it to squeal and jump. Satisfied it is no threat, I sheath my weapon, and kneel down next to the whimpering pile.
"Hello? Are you alright?" There is no response, so I reach forward and grasp a corner of the blankets. Yanking, the cloth comes free, revealing a fair faced elven woman underneath. Her complexion is marred by dirt, her golden hair matted and tangled, and her deep blue eyes are wide with fright, darting between Willow and myself. Reaching out, I offer the elf my gloved hand. "Here, let me help you up."
She quickly speaks, "S-sorry, my lord. We were just so cold and tired, w-we wanted to rest."
"We?" She moves the blanket further away from her, and I spot a young child, an elf that looks just like her mother. "Is that your daughter?" The woman nods her head, her gaze shifting to the ground. "Come out dear, don't be afraid."
The little girl slowly and cautiously steps forward, her bare feet covered in mud and frost. Concerned, I ask, "Why are you out here, and without shoes? It's the middle of winter, you will freeze."
"O-our town was burned by soldiers, b-but we were able to flee. We have been walking for days, my lord."
"And where is your daughter's father?" The elven woman's eyes drop, tears welling up.
"He died, defending Larion's King."
"I am sorry to hear that. Come, let's get you inside. You will catch your death out here." As I help the elven woman to her feet, she stumbles slightly, and wraps her arms around herself, trying to retain some warmth. "I am Lord Anon, why don't we discuss your situation in the warmth." The elf nods her head, picking up her daughter and following me inside Rosewood Manor.
After settling the elves in front of the fireplace, ordering the servants to bring food and drink, Willow laying at my feet, and removing my heavy winter cloak, I take a seat across from them. Sipping a glass of wine, I break the silence, "So, please tell me more about yourselves."
"My name is Cerillia, m-my lord. And this is my daughter Eirina." The little elf waves, and Willow lifts her head at the movement.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet both of you." A few bowls of warm beef stew are brought out by a servant, steam wafting off the hearty, nourishing meal. Placing one in front of Cerillia, and Eirina, I gesture, "Please, eat." Willow's head perks up, hoping that some scraps will come her way. "Willow, behave." The dog lays her head back down, letting out a loud sigh, and the elves dig into their meal, eating hungrily.
"So, Miss Cerillia. What are you doing in the outskirts? I know you said you fled, but where were you heading?"
Between bites, Cerillia explains, "We were heading west, towards the coast. My husband had family there, and I was hoping they could take us in."
"Ah, I see. That is quite a journey, and a lot of travel for someone so young, and a child."
Cerillia sets her spoon down, looking up, "It's not safe anywhere my lord. Anywhere is better than staying near the fighting." Willow shifts her position, laying her large head on my foot.
"Indeed. Well, how long were you planning on resting before continuing your journey?"
Cerillia's gaze drops, her voice starting to quiver, "M-my lord, I was h-hoping..." She pauses, collecting herself, and wiping a tear away, "W-we were hoping you would allow us to stay, j-just until the snow melts."
I lean back in my chair, stroking Willow's neck, "Hmmm, and what is it you expect to provide me, to earn such a reward?" Cerillia blushes, her hands wringing together nervously.
"I-I can cook and clean, m-my lord."
Inturrepting her, I motion to the small girl, "Eirina, why don't you take Willow and go warm up by the fireplace." I'd rather not have the young girl in earshot of this conversation, even if she is too small to understand what I'm about to imply. Willow rolls over, exposing her belly to Eirina. After some gentle coaxing, Cerillia convinces her daughter to play with the dog, while I turn my attention back to her. Leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees, "Miss Cerillia, cooking and cleaning are tasks my staff can already perform."