I have something important to say, it will be there at the bottom. Now on to the story!

A Passerby

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The clouds scudded across the deep azure sky as the cold zephyr gripped on its last sting of life and made its presence known. She yawned and raised her hand.

Sitting outside a small inn located at the travelling path, she was dead tired. Seeing her raised hand, a young boy off twelve came and refilled her beer. Despite the drinks not having any effect on her immortal body, they gave her a sense of humanity. That she too could be normal.

The golden shade reminded her of her days she spent under the sun. Her generous black skin and her cerulean eyes. How she missed them! Switching her body, which had better adapted to the winter, the silvery skin was something she had to get used to seeing after seeing her body glow gold for more than two thousand years.

The beer had no effect on her as she knew, yet she continued drinking. Many men saw her with various emotions visible in their vile eyes, but she dismissed it. It was her night and she deserved it.

One man sat next to her, closer than she would have allowed any living creature next to her. His bulky, fat body was pressed against her side. As though he was doing it without his knowledge, he stretched and tried to put his hand over her shoulders, obviously trying to take advantage of her drunken state.

Before it could touch her, Ar'kela held his hand and touched a nerve. The nerve that would deprive him to use his hand any further. Without looking at him, she threw his lax hand at him.

The man winced but he did not howl or scream in pain. He had just thought something had happened to him. He would know its consequences only the next day.

She touched her forehead to the rim of her beer glass and allowed her hair to shield her.

Many people left and some checked inside to sleep. The movements and noise dropped drastically. Would that woman ever come?

"I came," a feathery voice came. "Who are you and why did you call me?"

"Do not bother me." Ar'kela lifted her head to see the woman wearing a hood. "You need my help, and you will get it."

"I don't need your help, kid," the woman said and sat next to her. "I came here because you said something about the heir."

Five men lurked in the shadows, probably to keep an eye on Ar'kela. Their loyalty towards the woman sitting in front of her stunned the Guardian. Deciding she was in no position to comment, she let that slide.

"Hmm. Interesting," she yawned again. "I asked you to come here at the beginning off the first hour of the night and now you come."

"Unlike you, I have a lot of work," the woman growled lowly. Somehow hearing the anger in that soft voice sounded wrong.

"I left behind so many things to meet you and here you are complaining." She rose her brow.

"Stop stalling," the woman said. "I need to be somewhere now."

Why could the people just not thank her move on? The woman's voice held no gratitude towards the person who just saved her.

"Thank me later," Ar'kela commented dryly. "When half the residents from Mosati were massacred yesterday, I pulled you from there to talk to you, didn't I? It was my mistake, Zhiryn. To trust you. And to save you, I dare say."

The woman froze and her breath became laboured. Apart from all this, Ar'kela had never seen any general who loved the people of her country as much as the rulers did. General Zhiryn passed that test with flying colours.

A muffled cry escaped her barely parting lips. A sound of failure. Her hood fell back and she could see woman's features that the faint moon glow sharpened.

Her brown hair with grey root tips and her blue eyes, like the depths of a frozen lake. Her face showed Ar'kela a maturity she did not quite see in many people. One glance and she could not tell that the woman next to her was running in her late fifties. She was more or less in her early thirties.

"These are war times. We cannot be sure who will survive and who will die," Ar'kela said.

"These people were mine to protect," she protested.

"And the Spirits had to protect us," she said. "But I don't see any believer complaining."

"Because they are believers, child!" General Zhiryn snapped. "They believe that the Spirits won't let them hurt. They believe that the Spirits know what they are doing. They have complete faith in them."

"What's the difference between the Spirits and you now?" Ar'kela cocked her head. "Both sound the same to these boring ears of mine."

Her red eyes shone in astonishment. "But, but -"

The lack of speech was enough for her to know that she had won.

The second phase of the night went towards the third. By the time the fourth came, it would be early morning. But with the winter season, the days were much shorter than the nights.

"What but?" Ar'kela asked. "You don't need to explain to the people who have complete faith in you Zhiryn. They will understand the meaning behind your unspoken words. The strength behind those unshed tears and see their leader beneath the mask."

"Who are you?"

"Just another passer-by," she said, chugging down the last mouth of beer.

Zhiryn waited for her to answer. Confusion written evidently on her practised masked face.

"As I said do not worry about me," she said. "And it is true that I do have some valuable information about the heir."

That caught the attention of the general. "What is it?"

Ar'kela studied her face. Hope was plastered on her face. But it was for an heir who was far beyond help.

"Do not search for the heir," Ar'kela said after a short pause. "It is no use. He will -"

"What are you blabbering kid?" General Zhiryn roared. Her voice was neither too loud nor wavering. It was strong enough to stop the crickets from singing their heart out for a moment.

"- not accept what you are going to say or anything." She continued without heeding the woman's words. "Wait and the heir himself will return."

"So you are asking me to do nothing about this?" Zhiryn's brows met.

"No, carry your duty towards the people as you have been doing," she advised. "But let fate take its own course when it comes to the heir."

"How can you be so insensitive?" she asked, her voice breathy as though something caught her in her throat.

Was she being insensitive? If there were one person who was affected by the murder of the Ralaera's, then that would be her. After all, she had made a promise to her friend and she could not keep it. But there was a chance, after everything. Only she had to be patient for it to work out.

"I am not being insensitive, Zhiryn," Ar'kela shrugged. "I am merely stating the truth."

She was rewarded with silence.

"I know things you don't know," Ar'kela said. "I prefer it this way. Mortals, when entrusted to guard the secrets of the Spirits, tend to lose their mind. I want a stable general for Acracia."

General Valencia Zhiryn gasped and moved a little away from her. "You are an Immortal."

"That is why I said, my identity is not a concern to you." Ar'kela rose her brows again.

"My regrets for not coming instantly when you called," Valencia bowed her head. "I am sorry."

"So you apologise only when you learn the truth about the person." She linked her fingers. "How amusing!"

Valencia blushed, the colour instantly spreading on her face. "I did not know who I was talking to."

She hummed. "The Past is past, general. I called you for another thing."

The fast pacing clouds seemed to have a meeting elsewhere. Seeing the general pull her cloak around herself, Ar'kela shook her head.

She seemed to have the general's undivided attention. "What is it?"

"How strong is the Acracian army?" Knowing the exact answer, she wanted to hear it from the general herself.

"It was the strongest in the olden days," General Valencia said, regret seeping into her words. "Not so now."

The tall trees allowed the winds to claim them. The short plants danced to the tune of the winter night. The insects fell silent and the distant fireflies went back to their home. The sudden flashing of light blinded their vision shortly. The lightning had begun.

"I believe I asked you a direct question," Ar'kela said gritting her teeth. "Don't make me regret anything."

The time Valencia stole was too much for her. She had so many things she to do.

"It is not at its strongest," General Valencia admitted. "I try my best."

"Would they listen to you or to King Taimore?" Ar'kela questioned.

"Most will side with me," she said with confidence. "Some might not. May I ask you why you are asking this to me?"

"Aren't you not the general?" Ar'kela clicked her tongue. "Did you know about the siege in Yerinah?"

"Who does not know about that?" Valencia retorted.

Despite the impending storm, Ar'kela admired the general's guts for staying behind and hearing her words. The five men who had hidden came out and stood somewhere near six horses, which were in the stable.

"There are people who do not care about this," The Guardian said. "And do you know the victory or the failure of Yerinah will decide the fate of Ruthen?"

"I did not know that," general Zhiryn whispered. "So what must I do now?"

"I want you to send the Acracian army to help Yerinah. If Taimore takes Acracia's army, then there is no greater betrayal to Azaziah's blood." She remembered saying to Kacela that they should not meddle with Yerinah's affairs, but she was not interfering, she was merely trying her best to help. Helping through someone was completely different from helping directly. Or so she said to console herself.

"What do you propose?"

Thunder clapped somewhere far and its laughter was heard till here. The occasionally stirring winds suddenly opened its eyes and started running behind each other. The spray of the distant snow on her face was quite refreshing.

"Acracia must support Yerinah. Make sure of that."

Hope glistened in her blue eyes. "I will."

Another thunder followed.

I hope you guys respect my decision. (No, I am NOT going to discontinue this book)

As promised, I said, I will update once a week, and it had been working greatly for me. But... (There's always a but there isn't it?) The next chapter contains a poem, and I have not even started working on it! That's the worst part of all! 

And I cannot write any poem next week because, in my school, there are a lot of assignments and records to be submitted. So I need to concentrate on that first. (Sorry guys)

But if you are hooked into Ruthen, and thirst for more, you can check out 'The Ballad of Winter' a novella. It is the story of Azaziah. Feel free to check it out. Fear not, I intend to update that story every day. It is short, contains about 15 chapters. 

It is up on my profile. Meet you all there! 

(Why did I sound like I was about to put this book on hold?) 

*sighs. I will try to update by 24th, if not by May. I know, but give me time to work on the poem!

~Quill