A strange woman with an otherworldly aura

Vrasha swam and dove, enjoying the cool feeling of the water against her skin, her powerful strokes easily able to keep her in place despite the current. The day wore on, hours passed, she enjoyed herself in the river. it had been far too long since she had had time to do something like this. She had been on campaign for several months, waging several pitched battles during the long war against the Royal Kingdom of Silyir, and besting their armies on three separate occasions. The fourth and fifth had been a defeat and a stalemate respectively, however, she was content with her record. No one could win all the time, and though the defeat had stung when she had taken it, she had evaluated her tactics afterwards, and gone on to stalemate the same general during their next encounter, buying critical time for her father's army to move on the enemy capital.

That being the final battle of the war, of course. The one during which her father had won his great victory, and then paid the ultimate price.

Suddenly, her good mood soured as she remembered the fact that her father was dead. She felt...odd about the whole thing. Not sad as such,; her father had been a bastard, a cruel, capricious lord who lived to fight and win, seeking out glory at the expense of his kingdom. The two of them had never had good relations, but nor had they had bad ones. It had been largely neutral, which was the way Vrasha would have wanted it to stay. On one hand, the **** of her father was not a bad thing. It allowed new blood to the throne, and meant that they probably would not be plunged into yet another war in the next few years. Vrasha was a career soldier, and she knew things that her father had refused to see. The army was spent. It was tired, it had campaigned for decades now, with only short breaks in between. They were the elite, a company of stoic warriors who could do things that no other army could. But they were tired, they'd bled, and lost friends, family to the wars. They were grumbling now, but it could easily become something more if they were **** into yet another encounter. Vrasha knew it. She'd seen it in their eyes, the haunted, grim resolve to survive no matter what. That damning question when the peace was announced. Unspoken, but loud and clear nonetheless.

''How long will it last for this time?''

No, in that respect, it was better that her father was dead. The army could rest now. The country could recover. It would take years, but they would rebuild, be stronger than ever.

On the other hand, her father had just died...

How were you supposed to feel about that? So many of her siblings didn't seem to care at all. Even the ones that had been close to him. They just saw themselves as one step closer to the throne. Vrasha though, she'd never wanted the throne. But she also knew that the country could not afford another war. It simply could not happen. So she had been resolved. She would visit the one family member who was most likely to take the throne, and she would speak to him, find out his intentions. If Kanor really didn't intend for another war, then she could leave happy.

If he did...

What are you going to do if he does, girl? Kill your own brother?

She sighed, telling herself that there was no need to think of such things yet. It was a fine day, the sun was out, though fading now into blackness. It was warm, and she had just enjoyed a swim. What was the point of worrying about such things before she had to? Kanor was intelligent. He would see the same things she had. If he hadn't, she would tell him. Then, the two of them could begin to repair the damage their father had done to the empire.

And if not...

She shook her head.

Better not think of that just yet.

Slowly, Vrasha turned back towards the shore, intending to return to camp, make a fire, and dry out her body. Before she could do this, however, she sighted a figure on the edge of the shore, outlined by a fire which already burned clearly. She felt a surge of shock as she realised someone had been watching her swim! Anger followed, and she struggled not to charge from the river and demand they explain themselves. Instead, she focused her eyes, peering at the figure, trying to place them.

They were female, of slender build, their body more delicate than her own. Their arms and legs were lithe, but slim. Her face was somewhat cultured looking, with brown hair which fell down her back almost to the ground. Her eyes were also brown, the hue of the bark of a tree.

Another thing struck Vrasha almost as soon as she saw the figure. The woman was clad in a long, brown cloak. She had it drawn up about her body, slumped over her shoulders. There was something about her which set off Vrasha's sense of danger. She was a soldier, and a good one too. She'd been in danger plenty of times, and this time felt no different. As she slowly approached the shore, she began to feel that the figure who stood on the side of the river was not exactly just another woman come to bathe in the same location.