Chapter 17: Arc II Chapter 5

II

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Arc II Chapter 5

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Trusting his instincts, Lambert reacted. He drew his sword and took formation with the rest of his party. Rudolf readied his spear, Michael his blade, and Iris her staff. They were all ready, ready to fight the enemy head on. An enemy that never came.

 

...

...

...

 

Time passed and Lambert scanned his surroundings, looking left and right. The forest was ... completely ... peaceful. There was no danger in sight. No bandits, no monsters, no rampant spirits, no hungry dragons looking for a little snack, nothing. It was just them and a lot of trees.

 

Lambert blinked, mildly confused.

 

Lambert sheathed his sword. He turned to Arwing, angry because she made them all look like bloody fools. “What the fuck, what was that supposed to be?“

 

Arwing didn't answer. “Lambert, do you see that?“

 

“See what? Can't you be a bit more specific“ Lambert didn't even try to hide his annoyance.

 

“There is a girl lying on the ground.“

 

“What? A girl?“ Lambert furrowed his eyebrow. Since when were girls lying around on roads? The answer was, they didn't.

 

“Rudolf, Michael, you stay on guard and watch the area.“ Lambert commanded. Better safe than sorry, that was his unofficial motto together with, rich adventurers are happy adventurers.

 

“Understood.“ Rudolf obeyed, while Michael merely nodded.

 

“Iris, you come with me. We will take a look.“ Iris followed. Lambert took the lead, his armour rattling as he walked. His mail rubbed against each other in a soothing metallic rhythm he only knew too well.

 

Lambert marched forward and what he found was indeed a girl. She lied on the ground, her eyes closed. Her arms hugging a doll in frilly costume. The girl didn't move.

 

People commonly said he was a greedy asshole, and they were right, but he still had a heart and his ethics. A child in need was a child in need.

 

Lambert rushed to the girl and leaned down, checking her condition. Her appearance was ragged. She was covered in dirt, filth, and sweat.  

 

What caught his attention were the reddish, rusty stains.

 

Blood and it was everywhere. Little sprinkles, traces of crusted blood embellished her face, her hair, her tiny hands while her clothes remained remarkably unsullied.

 

They were spared by the taint of death, but Lambert had only eyes for the blood. Was she wounded? Was she injured?

 

“Iris!“ He wanted to help.

 

“Yes?“

 

“You know some healing magic, Iris, don't you?“

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Iris frowned. “Lambert, I have already told you not only once that I am not a FUCKING healer! How much do you need to get that into your fucking jellyfish brain, Lambert!?“

 

Iris struck Lambert with her staff, showing no remorse or mercy. She hit him again, and again, and again. “Iris, heal this! Iris, heal that! I am a mage, not a healer, you cretin! Big, big difference!“

 

Lambert took his punishment like a man. “I know. I know. Ouch. Can you please stop hitting me? Ouch. It hurts.“

 

Iris narrowed her eyes. “Yes, because it was supposed to hurt.“

 

Iris hit him one last time. Lambert licked his wounds.

 

“But you can heal, Iris, right?“ Lambert smiled. He knew Iris. He knew her violent nature. And he knew when he had won.

 

Iris mumbled. “Yes, a little bit. I told you I had to take a few classes healing. I hated them.“

 

“So you can help her, Iris? Can you help the girl?“

 

“Ah, so you just ... wanted ...“ Iris grew silent, realising that she might have overreacted.

 

Lambert smiled. “Yes, I just wanted you to check her out.“

 

“So can you help her?“

 

Iris blushed, deeply embarrassed by her actions. “Sure ...“

 

Iris started her work, pretended nothing had happened. “Her pulse is weak. Her breathing is slowed down. Her body functions are reduced to a minimum.“

 

“And that means?“ Lambert wondered.

 

“That means she is ...“

 

“That means she is sleeping, you idiot.“ Arwing gave them a blank face.

 

“Uuuuuuaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmm“, the girl yawned. She turned over, changing sides.

 

The girl hugged her doll and continued her peaceful slumber. She enjoyed her fluffy, puffy dreams, undisturbed by all the commotion. She didn't care. After all, she was just sleeping. She didn't listen. She didn't monitor them. She was a good girl, obviously.

 

The girl mumbled. “Strange humies loudie. Hear angry voicies. Can't sleep. Headsie ouchie. Don't want to wake up. Still sleepie. But no choice.“

 

The girl yawned and sat up, rubbing her heavy eyelids to banish her sleepiness.

 

She opened her purple eyes and stared at them with a mixture of confusion and ... fear. The girl was nervous, even scared. She kept her doll close to protect her.

 

The girl trembled. Her voice wavered. “Who are you? Are you here to hurt me?“

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