The clock struck 2:00 a.m., the stillness of the early morning humming quietly in the air. Veer had just concluded a tense meeting with the notorious leader of a bandit group—a meeting that had been riddled with uncertainty and fear.
He had received confirmation of their agreement, a deal that could expand his humble shop's reach, and with that weight now lifted off his shoulders, he resolved not to linger any longer in the cloak of night. It was time to return home and plot the future of his burgeoning business.
But as he made his way back, the tranquil night suddenly shattered. Just two hours into his journey, a rustle in the nearby bushes startled him to the core. Heart racing, he turned instinctively toward the sound, and what he saw sent chills down his spine—a woman's body, sprawled out and covered in tattered black garments.
Now-- i am getting the feeling of being in 1300s, a mysterious woman is a trouble and if that woman is in fully black clothes and covered in wounds that means she is the total package of adventure, thought Veer judging the woman.
The signs of a recent struggle were evident; her clothes were tattered, her body marked with the remnants of a fierce battle. She was alive, barely, her shallow breaths a testament to her dire condition.
Before he could react fully, ominous sounds echoed through the darkness—the steady thud of boots and the low murmur of voices belonged to three or four men, their mouths covered and weapons clutched tightly in their hands.
Palace soldiers, he realized in a flash, their flames flickering ominously as they scanned the area with hawk-like vigilance, clearly in search of the wounded woman.
Don't tell me that they are here for her thought Veer.
Without any other thought, Veer scooped her fragile form into his arms, the urgency of the moment propelling him to shove himself and her behind the nearest tree and thick brush. 'Look there.' 'Find her no matter what'. The soldiers prowled nearby, their torches illuminating the surroundings in an eerie dance of light and shadow, but thankfully, their search proved fruitless. As they moved away, Veer let out a sigh of relief that seemed to echo in the quiet night. Who was this mysterious woman, and what had she done?
His thoughts twisted like a serpent. "Judging by her dark attire, she must be an assassin,and if the palace soldiers were looking for then she must have came to assasinate someone in the palace" he mused, grappling with the implications of his actions. "But if that's true, what have I done? By saving her, I may have just committed treason against my princess, my beloved." Panic surged through him as he tugged at his hair in frustration. What would he tell her? How could he face her knowing he had aided a potential threat? Torn between his loyalty to his princess and his compassion for the wounded stranger, he felt an internal battle raging.
But if the enemy can strike once then he can strike twice and in order to find out the conspiracy behind it, this woman in black must be kept safe and hidden resolved Veer.
Despite his own exhaustion after a long day and the weight of his conscience bearing down on him, he knew he couldn't leave her here, vulnerable and alone. With a heavy heart, he resolved to take her home, resolutely stripping away some of her more incriminating clothing to mask her appearance. He carefully lifted her, her slight form feeling so delicate against him, and set off toward the town.
The path was more eiry than it was during the evening, as the illumination from the Moon was the only thing as of light source. He kept going away from the forest in the utterly silence that in itself was frightening.
On his way, he hailed a horse-drawn cart, the driver weary but willing, allowing him to climb aboard with the unconscious woman. The journey stretched on, filled with an air of tension and uncertainty as they rattled through the dimly lit streets. At last, they arrived back at his home. It was during this time when his servants would getting the shop ready for the business. He called one of them and asked him to lift the woman as he was totally exhausted by travelling more than 10 miles by lifting her.
Gently, he laid her down and dispatched one of his servants to fetch a doctor, the hour now being 6:30 a.m., when the town would be stirring.
Minutes felt like hours until the doctor finally arrived, inspecting her wounds with a practiced eye. He worked swiftly, applying a soothing paste made from medicinal herbs to her injuries, the markings of violence. "She'll need time, but she will recover," he assured Veer, offering a comforting smile before taking his leave. Veer, relieved but still deeply troubled, bowed to the physician and sent his servant to escort him back, while instructing another to open the shop. Fatigue hung over him like a heavy cloak, and he was desperate for sleep.
As he approached the woman once more, sunlight began to filter through the windows, illuminating her features. Now that he could see her face clearly, it was more compelling than he had expected. She was not regal in any sense—nor was she ragged. Instead, her appearance was a defined blend of practicality and stealth, crafted for silent movement rather than elegance, stitched together for survival. The sleeves of her garment bore cuts, and dried blood stained her left shoulder, yet even in her battered state, she exuded an air of untouchable strength.
Her skin, a warm shade of sun-kissed bronze, contrasted starkly with the harsh lines of experience etched across it—taut and scarred, it told a story of its own. Notably, a long, healed gash crossed her right forearm, a reminder of battles fought in the shadows and won at great cost. Her hands were anything but delicate; they were rough around the edges, showing the veins and strength of someone accustomed to wielding a blade.