What do you guys think of the new cover? Fancy, eh? Credits to MissBookNut for this one. The fabulous musicalkey had made the former one. Thank you guys so much!!

Not putting up Xael here because I hate her design, but if you're desperate, go look for her in my artbook, "Literal Sketches."

Sorry for not updating sooner! Been busy af. Second part of this chapter is coming soon iA.

Today was the fourth day of the eleventh month. At least, that's what the moss covered sign outside the noisy tavern door said.

First off, I could not fathom why a tavern was amidst this forest. After crossing a few more miles of cold forest ground-- which Hamilton still claimed was actually warmer than I imagined-- we happened upon a cleared path that greatly resembled where we had been before the fire storm.

"What the hell?" my voice was a mere whisper from the disbelief that cloaked it. The tavern stood in the center of the clearing, a large brass bell at the top, swinging lightly in the dancing wind but providing not even the faintest of sounds. The grey brick was powdery and crumbling, with yellowed plaster peeled around the doorway-- probably didn't go through health inspections anytime soon.

"Were we in the forest for that long?" I ask in a daze.

The sandy haired knight next to me scoffed. "More likely that that sign hasn't been changed since last winter."

Ah, that made more sense. I didn't know how to react if I had found out that we had lost three months in that illusion.

What didn't make sense was the pitch black void, swirling with a stream of magic as if it were a witch's cauldron.

Yep, no door.

A sign, hanging by one nail read, "Ridgewood Inn." The R and the final N were weathered away from the carving, but I had no doubt this was where Ham wanted us to go.

"Uh...do we go in?" I asked, hiding a bit behind Hamilton. "I don't think we should go. It'll be bad if we went, right? So let's not."

Hamilton scoffed. "I would let anything happen to you, milady. The only enemies to harm you would have to get through me." He was a proud knight, alright, but if the witch took our best swordsman-- despite his foolishness, Amancio did get chosen by Sir Raphael d'Morte to train under him, so he's pretty good-- then I couldn't imagine what would happen to Hamilton. He was the quickwitted one though.

The shrubbery around it was neatly cut, not overgrown like the vines around the rest of the property. Instead of a healthy green, however, the leaves had some metallic luster around them. Bending down to pick at a silver leaf, it bit me.

"OH MOTHER OF THE GODS!"

Hamilton looked over his shoulder, now standing at the threshold. "That's a unique plant, known as nimubious frocetrera. It settles it's roots in magic deposits."

I screamed, slapping away a thorny stem that flailed as if alive, coming to tear more of my skin. "Well it's also eating my entire arm!"

Unamused, Hamilton pulled me out of it's toothy grasp. "We need your blood anyway, so hold on."

"What happened to not letting anything happen to me?!" I wailed, shaking from my sudden encounter.

A whisp of a smile graced his lips, before he looked at me expressionless once again. "The door only appears when bluest of bloods are present. Prince Eliot, Princess Freya, and you are applicable." I hissed at the pressure he put on the bitten finger, crimson liquid flowing out in a fast stream. "Wait for it..."

A fat cerise drop fell on the rough threshold, the blood running over the curved edge. The blood was suddenly sucked into the rock's unseen pores, veins of red forming under the calloused exterior.

When I blinked, a door appeared.

For a second I wondered if I consumed some of the magic mushrooms Gavin had found. He became delusional, and while everyone had kept away from him, even the king chewed on a few.

It was not good.

"Where did you learn this?" I asked in a daze, admiring the gold carvings of dragons and pixies on the glowing ebony door. A faint hum was heard, vibrating off the door. It didn't look like wood but it didn't resemble iron either. What was it?

Ham grinned with pride. "I read Princess Xael's transcripts of The Seven Worlds. The witches of Winova are known to have pathways to their realms that can only be accessed by the pure royals."

I mentally facepalmed. "And where did you get Xael's transcripts?" She hadn't released that yet.

"Sir Henderson."

"Ah."

And so, with a prayer sent to the gods, I turned the emerald encrusted knob, opening the passage to the witch's realm.

👑👑👑

The Head Witch of Irisdor was a pesky character.

She was flamboyant but demure at times, and almost always had an annoying little smile on her face, regardless of the situation.

I didn't know her that well, but she was a welcome face during my childhood.

When Xael was still going through princess training instead of queen training, Harmonia was her tutor. And as a four year old, I remember Xael running out of the Red Study screaming, her beautiful lavender silk gown bloody and torn-- but it wasn't her blood.

A recurring theme with Xael was her getting covered in someone else's blood in possibly all occasions.

Rebekah said the witch was mad, but had good fashion sense and that's why she bothered to talk to her at all. According to my mother, she was a "vile, tasteless vixen" who she firmly believed "raised her petticoats for all men." I didn't have the heart to tell her about her rakish stepson and promiscuous princess. Freya had no concerns-- she never cared about anyone else, to be honest-- but Gavin and Eliot had the worst experiences.

But the witch was a dear friend of my father's, and was a close confidant for the late queen.

With all this, you'd think she would claim a beautiful hotel with seductive hostesses as her home, right?

"She certainly has taste," Hamilton said in a low voice, eyes sweeping over the tables heaving with ale, chairs heaving with happy drunks consuming the ale.

The outside of the joint was much like the inside.

The plaster on the walls peeled into curls, mustard coloured paint covering them. Dim lights kept the anonymity of the guests, but the laughter and bellowing did not. Each seat was filled with large men with bloodshot eyes, arms flaying around with mirth as some danced on round table tops.

The song they sang did not seem to fit the melody, though.

"I got broads in Grie-ah,
Twistin' knights, swords, and the damned
Hooligans and the hammered
Hittin' off whores in the brothels
Black X6, Phantom
White X6 looks like a panda"
Goin' out like I'm the Emperor,*" they carolled in the tune of an old sailor song.

Yeah, something was wrong with that song. The words seemed off, as if mere replacements for the original tune.

I cringed as Hamilton walked me towards a table in the corner, that for some reason was empty of any unclean bodies. The place was literally bursting to the seams with the type of men my mother faint upon hearing them speak, but this shady little corner was absent of anyone.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Hamilton asks, eyes laughing at my disgusted expression toward a man who's nose was running brandy.

I threw a bewildered look in his direction but decided to humour him. "Perhaps some frostberry wine." I thought about the decanter sitting on Gavin's desk, having to refilled every week because of the late night drinks he shared with Xael.

Hamilton rolled his eyes in reply. "I'll see if I can get you a beverage only the most distinguished have access to, in this seedy little pub, milady."

I hesitantly eyed the roguish men around me, slightly concerned that Ham was leaving me here. They seemed like the dangerous type, with all the tattoos crawling up their arms, the bulging muscles glistening in sweat, the dirty sailors' mouths.

Ham didn't mind.

I warily drummed my fingers on the worn table, the thud of my nails on the wooden surface inaudible in a room of... How would you define these men?

Rogues.

Pretty much.

I huffed, slightly annoyed with the only living knight for roping me into coming to such an unholy place. Had I known this is what getting back that wretched pervert of a knight entailed, I would have left his sorry ass where it was--

Yeah, have fun explaining that one to the king.

It always goes back to my reputation as the lesser known princess of Glamaia.

"Ai, lassie," a gruff voice harbouring a northern accent grunted. I jumped up, startled at the new arrival. My eyes trailed up to meet light hazel eyes, peeking out beneath bushy grey eyebrows.

"Don't talk to strangers," Mother's voice suddenly filled my ears.

"Okay," I reply, aloud.

A bushy eyebrow rose in confusion. "I haven't asked ye of anythin', miss. Are ye okay? Are ye sure?"

My cheeks heated, and I looked down at the table. How stupid.

"Martin!" a newcomer scolded. "Are ye flirtin with the lass? The broad's a bit too young for ye, if ye ask me!"

I screamed. Or at least I did so internally. Mortified, I looked at the other man, this one devoid of bushy grey eyebrows.

The first guy-- Martin-- huffed in reply. "Yer too crass, Devett. T'is a shame yer nearly blind as well, 'cause the lass her seems too young to be in parts like this."

A weathered face featuring a long beaked nose with a curly moustache suddenly invaded my space. I squeaked, slightly shivering, before the man leaned back out.

"Wh-who are you?" I stammered out, terrified. Oh gods of Veena, hear your daughter plea. Please bring back all my stupid knights asap. Please.

"I ain't blind, Martin. But yer right she looks a bit young. What's yer name, lass?" The man curled his moustache.

I blinked. "Uh...I-I'm," I drew a blank. "Dem-Demily!"

Grey brows frowned. "Demily? Like Emily with a D?"

Moustache Guy burst out laughing. "Ye-ye said Emily with the--"

I sighed, muscles relaxing. These two seemed harmless. They reminded me of my knights, actually. Moustache guy could have been a mix Amancio and Hero , while the older man was a cross between Daniel and Hamilton.

Martin glared at his companion. "Yer too crass. Think of the young ears."

Within seconds, Moustache Man-- Devett-- calmed down. He picked up my hand and bowed towards me. "Hullo, Miss Demily. I am Captain Frank Devett of the Bloody Mayar. Welcome to the Ridgewood Pub."

"It said 'inn,'" was all I could answer in my bewilderment.

"That fine vessel belongs to me," Grey Brows slapped Devett away. "I built her with my own two hands." The older man tipped back his cap. "I am the true Captain of the Bloody Mayar, Jeb Martin. Nice ta meet ye, Miss Demily."

"Okay." This time I wasn't answering to the voices in my head. "Nice to meet you too."

Jeb Martin had the old face of a man of the sea, the lines in his dark skin telling a tale of the sea. He would have been as old as the Knight Commander, Osiris le Brün, one of Father's knights. Unlike the armour wearing senior knight, however, he wore a grey overcoat with a forest green shirt underneath with tan trousers. His accent was slightly Grien, but enough to tell me he was a native.

Frank Devitt's dark skin contrasted with bright blue eyes. Unlike Martin's, his face was smooth, which made him look younger than he already was. His hands were calloused, and he was dressed in an red open neck tunic tucked into leather breeches. They looked different than the other patrons of the pub, but perhaps their playful and friendly nature forced me to see them without as much judgement as the others.

"Ain't from these parts, Miss Demily?" Martin asked, after bickering with his companion.

I shook my head furiously, only stopped when I nearly hit a drunk elder man stumbling over a hole on the floor.

"Obviously not, idiot. She is here with someone. And from out of town too," Devett propped his elbows on the table. "So, doll, what did ye have to barter for to be saved by the Lady?"

I blinked. "Barter?"

Part two, guys. There's a part two.
Btw yes that is Panda. That being said, Desiigner owns Panda, not me. I know all the words though.

Why was that added in? Because a) No matter how old or mainstream that song will always be relevant and b)--
* This song actually will make sense as we go on in the story

I'm thinking of NaNoWriMoning this now. Like the rest of the story. Hmm.
Maybe.