"All hail the General!"
The loud cheers of several drunken elves forced Bethran's eyes wide open.
"Can't a knight get a few hours of peace and quiet?" he hissed, scowling as he turned toward the source of the commotion.
And there she was.
Walking confidently past the oak tables stood an elf whose beauty could only be rivaled by Queen Flowyria and Princess Emelda. Her golden eyes gleamed with boldness, her long blonde hair tied in a sharp ponytail that swung with every step.
"Who is that?" Bethran frowned, struggling to place the face. There was something vaguely familiar about her. That haughty stride, those commanding eyes... he was sure he'd seen her before.
"How you doing?" the woman said suddenly, stopping at his table and taking a seat with casual boldness.
Bethran blinked. "Should've at least asked for permission," he muttered. "But what was I expecting from a general?"
He straightened slightly. "Quite fine," he said with a small bow. "And who might you be?"
His eyes briefly flicked to the two hulking elves who flanked her—clearly bodyguards, and not the friendly kind.
The woman smirked. "I like this one."
She placed one gloved hand on the table and declared, "I am General Hyacinth of the Winter Guard."
Bethran returned her mock bow with an arched brow. "You might not have heard of me," she continued, "but I've heard plenty about you."
A single long, calloused finger pointed directly at him.
"Hope you liked what you heard," Bethran replied smoothly, flashing a smile that showed off sharp, white canines.
"Not really." Hyacinth leaned back and muttered something in Elvish to her guards. With twin grunts and glares that oozed contempt, the brutes stepped away and took a seat at a nearby table.
Bethran relaxed slightly.
"Now, where was I?" Hyacinth tapped her chin in mock thought.
Bethran didn't answer.
"Ah yes. The stories claimed you were at least seven feet tall, with deep green eyes. Some even swore they saw you transform into a wolf."
Bethran chuckled. "In the Night, only Fanghyr has the ability to shapeshift."
"And why would I need to turn into a wolf," he added, tossing back his silver hair with a grin, "when I'm already dashing and ferocious?"
Hyacinth rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."
"Drink?" Bethran offered, motioning to a barmaid.
"I didn't come here for that," Hyacinth replied with a dismissive wave.
"Then what brings the general here?" Bethran asked, eyeing his empty mug mournfully.
"I need your help," she said, leaning in, her voice suddenly serious.
"I'm afraid that wouldn't be possible," Bethran replied, rocking his chair. "Unless we're talking about some other form of help."
"Wouldn't you at least like to hear the task first?"
"Sure," Bethran said, shrugging and glancing out at the brightening sky.
"There's been a problem in the north," Hyacinth began in a low voice, "and it's the kind that only someone from the Night can handle—not the Winter Guard, and certainly not the elven royal forces."
"Then why not inform your queen and let her contact the Midnights?" Bethran asked, motioning again for a refill.
"I was getting to that," Hyacinth replied with a sigh, ignoring the three frothy mugs now delivered to their table.
"Help yourself," Bethran said, pointing at the drinks.
"You reek of alcohol," she sniffed. "This must be your seventh."
"Nope," he replied, clinking his mug against the table. "Lost count at twelve."
Hyacinth murmured something under her breath about wolves.
"Anyway," she continued, "the queen doesn't believe in the threat. She thinks the disappearances are the work of vampires. But I know better."
"Any proof?"
"Yes." She pointed to herself. "Me."
Bethran stifled a laugh. If not for the seriousness in her eyes, he would have.
"I'm the only one who managed to escape from it. White, nearly invisible against the snow. Glowing red eyes… and silence—dead silence, except for the sound of its breath behind you." Her voice trembled, her pale features betraying lingering fear.
Bethran almost reached out, but she regained herself.
"It's been picking off my soldiers one by one. And every time I speak of it, people look at me like I've gone mad. The queen even suggested I retire. Me. A general at my age!"
Bethran nodded slowly. Honestly, Fanghyr would've been better for this job.
"So?" she asked abruptly, slamming her hands on the table. "Are you in or out?"
"I don't have anything better to do," Bethran muttered.
"Great. We leave at dawn."
"Why dawn?" Bethran raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you came all the way here just to find me?"
"That's exactly what I did," she said with a smile. "Tomorrow, the Winter Guard and royal army head north to investigate supposed vampire sightings. While they're busy, you'll slip away to deal with the real threat."
Bethran sighed. "And my payment?"
Hyacinth leaned forward, dangerously close. Bethran struggled to keep his eyes where they belonged.
"I'll help you," she said.
"Help me?"
"With your… urges."
Bethran smirked. "There's only one urge I'm feeling right now, and even you helping to control it wouldn't be enough payment."
Hyacinth grimaced. "The last thing I'd ever do is sleep with you."
"Just making sure," he said with a sheepish grin.
"I meant your other urges," she continued. "Haven't you ever wondered what'll happen to you on the next full moon?"
Bethran's grin disappeared. "You just put a target on your back," he said quietly.
"I'm not blackmailing you," she replied. "Just bargaining. I help you—you help me."
He sighed. "Who else knows?"
"No one. I swear."
Bethran narrowed his eyes. "Alicia told you, didn't she?"
"Who's Alicia?" she blinked, genuinely confused—or a great liar.
"I just know," she added cryptically.
"Wonderful," Bethran muttered. "A sh*tty answer."
"Remember—dawn," Hyacinth said, standing. "And in case you're thinking of backing out…"
Clink!
She dropped her mug. "Goodbye, Sir Bethran. It was a pleasure."
"The pleasure was mine," Bethran said with a small bow.
She nodded and left, flanked by her guards. One paused at the door and gave him a long, threatening glare.
Bethran winked.
When they were gone, he picked up her mug and found a tiny, folded note beneath it.
A moment later, Bethran was out of the tavern—faster than anyone expected.