---[ POV: Gwenvar ]---

The black knight had guided Gwenvar through the mountain for the last 6 hours.

At first, she had some trouble keeping up because every single muscle in her body was sore and tired from running and fighting. However, after some time she had realized that the pain was slowly going away and that she was miraculously regaining some strength.

She had no doubt the potent magic of her savior was the main factor of this auspicious recovery.

Once she was in a good enough condition to follow the warrior without him having to slow his pace, she had caught up to him to walk by his side rather than trailing behind. She had cast a worried look at Princess Amaryllis, still carried by the black knight, but the condition of the girl seemed to have gotten a bit better.

Her clothes were still covered in blood but her respiration was less raspy and laborious than it had been before. This sight had ignited a glimmer of hope in her heart.

Maybe she will live. If it’s him, maybe he can save her after all.

It was late in the evening when they arrived at the top of what seemed like a deep and steep gorge that ran from the western heights and continued toward the Whispering Forest.

The ravine was at least 40 paces in width, sometimes a lot more than that. It was impossible to go further. Gwenvar looked left and right but saw no bridge nor any other way to get across.

Did the black knight guide us in the wrong direction by mistake? Is he lost?

It was frustrating to think she had walked all day with a parched throat and an empty stomach just to end up at a dead-end but knowing that even the black knight could make errors made him appear more human and endearing.

The woman was thinking about a way to convey that they should stop and set up a camp for the night when she heard the man talk. He had walked all the way up to the edge and was pointing to something below.

She approached, curious.

It took some time for her eyes to adapt to the shadows of the ravine in the dying light of the day but after some time she could discern some unusual things below.

There was a long structure built in strange and unfathomable shapes. The structure was entirely made of metal or some other lustered materials painted in the same black and gold as the armor of the knight. The golden sun appeared on it too, reinforcing Gwenvar idea that this symbol was probably religious in some way.

She wondered what that construction was, but then she saw some wooden stands with wargs pelts being stretched and dried. That man hunts wargs for fun? There was also a small, unlit, campfire as well as all kinds of unknown tools or contraptions laying around.

The woman deduced that was probably the camp of the warrior.

After showing her this, the man pointed toward a mechanical contraption that had escaped Gwenvar attention up until now. It was a wood and metal structure built on an easily accessible ledge of the cliff at a lower point than their current position.

A metallic platform was suspended from the structure by a set of ropes and chains and swung lightly above the abyss. It somewhat reminded Gwenvar of the treadmill cranes she had seen in some ports of the Realm, but build in a more elaborated and compact way.

As if to confirm her suspicion, the man walked down the narrow path that led to the edge and swiftly jumped on the platform. Contrary to what she had expected, the suspended platform did not start to swing under the man's weight and momentum.

Instead, it simply moved around a little bit but stayed perfectly horizontal.

The warrior spoke and made a sign with his hand to invite her to join him on the elevator.

Gwenvar was not sure the simple ropes holding this platform would be able to support the weight of three people but the man seemed confident and she had no way to communicate her doubts.

She approached the edge hesitantly, trying not to look down.

Common Gwen, you were ready to die facing a horde of goblins earlier; you can certainly get on that platform - swinging a hundred paces above the ground, mind you - without letting fear stop you? Sure, big girl, but you can fight against goblins, not gravity...

The warrior called once again so she jumped.

Her momentum, exhaustion, and the slightly unstable platform made Gwenvar lose her footing and she reflexively tried to grab one of the ropes to stabilize herself but realized too late that she had used her severed arm. The stump simply brushed past a rope without much effect at all and she saw the edge of the platform approaching at an alarming rate. Her heartbeat spiked up and she was about to scream but the black knight extended a hand from beneath Lady Annestrahd and grabbed one of her shoulders to stop her.

Gwenvar let out a nervous and timid sigh.

What a disgrace from a knight and the Princess’ Warden.

"Thank you," she said.

The man seemed to understand and responded with a nod and a short word of his own.

As soon as Gwenvar was steady on her feet, the complex machinery of the crane started to move on its own with a strange noise and the platform started to descend. The woman had not seen the warrior do anything particular to activate the elevator but she guessed he was probably using his magic for that too.

Gwenvar was stupefied at just how stable and smooth the descent was. In less than two minutes, they were at the bottom of the canyon and the warrior was guiding her toward the encampment.

Gwenvar could not spot any cabin, tent, or hut, and was left wondering where the knight lived, but as if he had read her mind, the man brought her toward the giant metal structure.

The woman was wracking her brain trying to guess what it was when a smooth panel she had thought to be part of the wall surface suddenly started to lower like a draw bridge with a faint buzzing sound, revealing the interior of the structure.

There were no visible doors nor windows on the structure and it was so different than everything she knew that it had never crossed Gwenvar’s mind this thing could actually be some sort of house or lair. She had just assumed it was a strange sculpture or an effigy to some long-forgotten god.

The interior was unlike anything she had seen in her life. It was made of metals or exotic unknown materials. There were glass panels everywhere behind which moved strange light or forms. The walls were lined with metal plates covered in small crystals and gems that shone from some kind of internal light. It almost seemed like the inside of a metal beast. Gwenvar could see some tools and equipment disposed along the walls on both sides of the main room but for the life of her, she could not guess the purpose of even one of them.

The warrior walked in and went directly to the back where a small ramp led to an elevated catwalk that ran around the main room, giving access to other rooms and facilities on the second floor. The man went on the right along the small and narrow passage and stopped in front of an empty wall section.

He slightly poked the wall and a rectangular portion where he had touched slid inward a bit, then split in two and slid apart to reveal a small alcove lined with some kind of padded material. The alcove was just large enough for someone to lay in it. The man gently placed Lady Annestrahd on the padded cushion, then turned toward Gwenvar to speak.

She could not understand what he said but it made her realize that she was still outside with her mouth wide open. The surprises had pilled up one after the others and the sheer incongruity of what she was witnessing had stopped her in his tracks without her even noticing.

She slowly went up the ramp and entered the black knight's wondrous lair.

She had no doubt that, at that very moment, she was surrounded by more magical equipment and artifacts than any court wizards had ever seen during the course of their entire life. If she had magical sight like some sorcerer and wizard claimed to have, she would probably go blind in an instant.

For a moment, she was left wondering if her savior was maybe not one of the fabled Kaldorian. Their civilization had fallen millennia ago but it was said in legends and some historical texts that they were the greatest nation of men ever to exist. They wielded magic that could extinguish the sun, freeze the sea, or bring entire nations to ruins. The warriors of their legions could vanquish and tame any foe.

The black knight came down from the second floor and pointed Gwenvar to a large rectangular bin. She looked at the bin, not knowing exactly what to do. She was about to try and open it when the man pointed another time and mimicked sitting on it.

Oh, so he is inviting me to sit down. True, there are not a lot of other real commodities around. Well, who need chairs and tables when living alone in the mountain?

She took place on the strange crate and the man brought a small stool from a corner to sit in front of her.

An owl of blue light - probably an elemental or spirit servant - flew in from the outside and perched itself on the warrior's shoulder, startling Gwenvar.

The man said something to the bird and the bird answered.

Gwenvar eyes shot wide open. Elemental or spirit companions were not supposed to be able to speak! The master and his servants shared an empathic bond but verbal communication was almost unheard of. Spiritual and magical entities capable of speech had too powerful an ego to be dominated or contracted as a familiar. That man was a bottomless bag of surprise. Gwenvar wondered just who - or what - that bird was. A magical creature able to speak and on friendly terms with humans was bound to be mentioned in at least one legend or song but the blue owl didn’t ring a bell.

Gwenvar realized the man was now speaking to her and she snapped out of her surprise. Embarrassed for having ignored him for a moment, she averted her gaze from him unconsciously and found herself examining the floor. She had never been good with people. Not that many of them wanted to interact with her anyway, so she was usually content to stay by the princess' side and let her handle anything remotely interactional.

The man made a sound as if he had just remembered something embarrassing and brought one of his fingers to the side of his neck.

A small sound came from his helmet and the red left eye suddenly stopped to shine. The helmet 'cracked', and the dislocated pieces started to move and retract behind the warrior's head or 'flow' down along his head.

Gwenvar was met with green, piercing eyes, and the face of a young man that could not be much more than 25 years old. He had smooth and regular features, even if she could spot some stubble on his chin and two small and eerily straight scars under his left eye.

A mess of long orange hair fell down on his shoulder.

The man scratched his head and smiled at her with an embarrassed and innocent smile that did not fit the character of the merciless goblin slayer she had seen earlier.

He was nothing like she had imagined.

Her heart started to beat faster for some reason.