Honor, Mercy, and Faith

Part 1

James instinctively hit the ground as shadowy figures emerged from behind scattered shrubs and jagged rocky outcrops. Clad in weathered tunics and fragmented, rusted armor, the bandit group numbered at least fifteen. Their gaunt faces and hardened eyes spoke of relentless hardship. They brandished swords, spears, and bows, but their stances lacked the disciplined precision of trained soldiers.

"Stay behind me," Bisera commanded, stepping forward with unwavering authority. Her presence was formidable, her tall figure cutting an imposing silhouette against the afternoon light, even taller than James, whose stature was impressive in its own right.

The bandits approached cautiously, their gazes darting between the duo and the peculiar metal contraption beside them—the SUV. From a distance, it had appeared as a simple wagon, but up close, its unfamiliar structure sparked confusion and intrigue.

"What in the world is that?" muttered one bandit, a lanky man with a scruffy beard.

"Never seen a wagon like that before," another whispered. "No horses, no wheels... Must be valuable."

Their leader, a burly man with a jagged scar across his cheek, dismissed the distraction with a grunt. "Doesn't matter. We take what we can."

He stared at James James, who stood very tall with a muscular build, every bit the seasoned warrior. "You there!" the leader bellowed. "Hand over your goods, and no one gets hurt."

Another bandit chuckled, gesturing toward Bisera. "And what's this? A tall lass playing dress-up in armor? Shame to see such beauty wrapped up in all that metal."

Laughter rippled through the group. "She's taller than him!" jeered a wiry bandit missing a few teeth. "What a waste for such a pretty face to be on such a manly body."

Bisera's eyes narrowed, but her demeanor remained composed. Her armor concealed a fresh wound beneath—a secret known only to James.

One of the bandits stepped forward, his eyes lingering on the ornate engravings of Bisera's armor. "That suit looks expensive. Give it here, and we'll let you both go. We don't wish to spill blood needlessly."

James felt irritation bubble up. "We don't want any trouble," he stated firmly. "Just let us pass." He wore fine clothing that marked him as likely a foreign nobleman, attracting the bandits' intent to rob him.

The bandits exchanged puzzled glances. "What's with his appearance?" one murmured. "He doesn't look like he's from around here."

"Maybe he's a merchant from distant lands," another suggested. "All the more reason to relieve him of his wealth."

More laughter ensued. Bisera took a step forward, her posture unyielding. "Leave now, and you can keep your lives," she declared in Gillyrian, her accent unmistakably Vakerian.

At the sound of her voice, the bandits stiffened. The atmosphere shifted palpably.

"Did you hear that?" the leader snarled. "She's Vakerian!"

A murmur spread among them. "Vakerian scum," spat the lanky bandit. "Invaders who've brought ruin to our homes!"

Their eyes blazed with anger. The initial intent to rob without violence morphed into a deeper, more menacing hostility.

"You've got a lot of nerve, wandering our lands," the leader growled. "We'll make you pay for what your kind has done!"

Bisera's grip tightened on her sword, her fingers deft and sure. James sensed the escalation and whispered, "Bisera, maybe we can reason with them."

She shook her head subtly. "Their hearts are hardened by war."

Without warning, two bandits lunged forward, weapons drawn. Time seemed to slow as Bisera reacted with lightning speed. Her movements were a blur of grace and lethal precision. She sidestepped the first attacker effortlessly, her sword flashing in the dying light. With sheer strength, she knocked his weapon aside and delivered a powerful blow with the hilt of her sword to the back of his head, rendering him unconscious. The second attacker hesitated, momentarily stunned by her speed, but Bisera was relentless. She parried his clumsy swing with ease, then struck him with the hilt of her sword, knocking him out cold. At another moment, she used the elbow of her armor to strike the back of a bandit's head, sending him sprawling unconscious.

The remaining bandits gaped in disbelief, their bravado evaporating in an instant.

"Did you see that?" one whispered harshly. "She's a demon!"

"Impossible!" the leader shouted. "She's just a woman!"

They regrouped, anger fueling their movements. "For our homes! For our families!" they cried, charging as one.

Bisera met them head-on, her every movement a blend of elegance and deadly efficiency. Her tall, statuesque form moved with unparalleled speed, each strike calculated to incapacitate rather than kill. She dodged their attacks with minimal effort, her blade a swift, unerring force that left them sprawling on the ground, groaning but alive.

James watched in awe, his heart pounding. He was both amazed and unsettled by her prowess. The bandits, once a significant threat, were now mostly subdued without a single fatality.

One of the few remaining bandits stumbled back, fear replacing his fury. "She's not human!" he cried, backing away.

"Forget this!" shouted another, clutching his injured arm. "I'm not dying here!"

They turned to flee. As they did, Bisera called out firmly, "Wait!"

They halted, wary and hesitant.

"Take your comrades with you," she said, gesturing to the unconscious men. "I won't harm you while you do."

The leader hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "Why spare us?" he asked bitterly.

"Because you showed honor by not attacking us when we were... vulnerable earlier," Bisera replied, her gaze steady and unwavering. "So I must repay the honor."

The bandits exchanged uncertain glances but moved quickly to gather their fallen companions. As they retreated, one looked back at James and Bisera, confusion evident in his eyes. "Perhaps not all Vakerians are monsters," he muttered before disappearing into the shadows.

Silence settled over the plains. Bisera sheathed her sword with practiced ease, her expression inscrutable.

James approached her cautiously. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She nodded. "Yes. Just the side hurting a little bit, but I have been through worse."

He glanced in the direction the bandits had fled. "They thought I was the fighter," he said wryly. "Guess they were wrong."

A hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Appearances can be deceiving."

James felt a surge of admiration. "You were incredible," he admitted. "I've never seen anyone move like that."

Her gaze softened slightly. "I guess you haven't seemed many battles."

As they walked back toward the SUV, he couldn't help but reflect on the encounter. The bandits had been driven by hatred and greed, yet Bisera had shown them mercy, embodying the honor she held so dear.

As the climbed into the SUV, James looked over at Bisera.

He felt a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. "I should be the one protecting you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Can you wield a sword?"

"Not exactly," he admitted sheepishly.

"Then until you can," she said lightly, "I will protect you."

He laughed softly. "I suppose I have a lot to learn."

"I could teach you," she offered. "If you're willing."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

James felt a newfound respect and admiration for Bisera. Despite the bandits' anger and insults, she had shown grace and strength, unmoved by their attempts to provoke her.

"By the way," he said after a while, "in my homeland, your height is a highly admired quality in women. In fact, we have a laudatory term for ladies like you. We call them models, which effectively mean ideal women"

She glanced at him, surprise flickering across her face. "You can't be serious?"

"Absolutely," he affirmed. "I'm completely serious."

She looked ahead, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Your world is truly different. In this world, my height is an admirable quality for a warrior but a blemish for a lady."

"Well, I think it's one of the many things that make you extraordinary," he said earnestly.

She turned to him, her eyes reflecting the warm hues of the setting sun. "You are truly unique."

Just as James was about to start the engine, Seraphina's familiar voice echoed softly in his mind:

"Would you like to purchase a toothbrush and toothpaste? Combined price: $15."

He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips. Bisera noticed his expression and glanced over. "Did Seraphina speak to you again?" she asked respectfully. Having witnessed items appear out of thin air whenever James communicated with Seraphina, Bisera had come to expect it whenever James seemed to be reacting to the air.

"Yes," James replied. "She suggests providing us with something to clean our teeth."

Bisera raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes reflecting curiosity. "Clean our teeth? Do you mean with toothpicks?"

"In a way," James said, nodding. "But this method is more effective. Let me show you later. First, let's get somewhere safe."

He started the engine, guiding the vehicle away from the site of their earlier encounter. After a short drive, they stopped near a secluded grove. James took a deep breath and thought, "Yes, Seraphina, I'll purchase them."

Instantly, two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste appeared in his hands as if conjured from thin air. Bisera watched with a mix of awe and reverence. She had grown accustomed to these miraculous provisions, viewing them as divine gifts from the archangel Seraphina.

They both stepped out of the vehicle. Bisera instinctively scanned the surroundings, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.

"All clear," she whispered after a moment, her gaze sweeping over the quiet landscape.

James nodded. "Alright."

James handed Bisera one of the toothbrushes, noting her cautious grip on the unfamiliar object. "This is called a toothbrush," he explained. "And this is toothpaste." He squeezed a small amount onto the bristles of his own brush. "You apply it like this."

Bisera examined the brush closely. "Is this a chew stick? It resembles a broom," she remarked thoughtfully.

James laughed softly. "That's a good way to look at it. It cleans your teeth more thoroughly than cloth or twigs."

She nodded slowly. "Very well. Show me how it's used."

Taking a bottle of water from the back of the car, James began his demonstration by pouring some water onto the toothbrush with the toothpaste and started brushing his teeth in small circles. Foam began to form around his mouth. Bisera watched intently with her curious blue eyes.

Bisera hesitated, then mimicked his movements, only to pull the brush from her mouth after a moment, her blue eyes wide with surprise. "It burns!" she exclaimed, her lips slightly parted.

James tried not to laugh but failed. "That's the mint. It's supposed to make your mouth feel fresh."

Bisera frowned slightly but continued brushing, her eyes narrowing as she got used to the sensation. "Strange..." she muttered through the foam.

To be cautious, they brushed while standing back-to-back so they could keep an eye out for any possible attacks.

Once they finished, they used water from the bottle to rinse, and Bisera turned to James with a mischievous smile.

"Your breath," she said, stepping closer, her blue eyes locking onto his. "It smells... different now."

James blinked, caught off guard by how close she had gotten. "Uh... thanks?"

Bisera tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I hope my breath smells good now too." She paused, stepping even closer, the scent of mint mixing with the crisp night air. "I would not want to repel my only ally with unpleasant smells."

James flushed slightly, his breath catching as the space between them closed. "You've never smelled bad, Bisera. Really."

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she raised an eyebrow. "Never, hmm?" she echoed, amusement creeping into her voice. "That's not what you said when you rolled down the... what did you call it? The 'window' earlier?"

James's face turned red as he remembered subtly cracking the window earlier to let in some fresh air. "Uh... well, that was different."

Bisera shook her head, her smile widening. "Lying is not good for your soul, James," she said, her voice teasing but laced with mock seriousness. "Especially when Seraphina is watching."

James let out a soft laugh, his embarrassment fading under the warmth of her playful gaze. "Alright, you got me. But I swear, it wasn't that bad."

Bisera chuckled softly, stepping even closer. "Good. I wouldn't want to lose a good ally over something as trivial as my scent. But I promise you, I will bathe as soon as we get to Nviom."

They laughed softly, the tension between them melting away as something warmer, more personal, began to settle in its place.

Part 2

As the SUV sped closer to Nviom, Bisera's thoughts were a tempest of conflicting emotions. The rhythmic hum of the enchanted vessel was a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. She had anticipated this journey would take at least a day or two—time to plan, to steel herself, and to prepare for the inevitable confrontations awaiting her in Nviom. She had expected to arrive after the emperor, to face the nobility's scorn, to explain the disaster at Sparklestar River, and to bear the weight of their accusations. Along the way, she had rehearsed her report, each word a shield against the blame she knew would be cast upon her.

But now, they had arrived before the emperor, and everything had changed. Her carefully laid plans were upended by the sheer speed of their journey, thanks to the mysterious man beside her. The familiar landmarks of Nviom were already in sight, far sooner than she had ever imagined.

"James," she called softly, breaking the companionable silence that had settled between them. She turned her gaze to him, her blue eyes reflecting both awe and confusion. "How did we arrive so soon? How did we not see the emperor and his troops? They should have been on this path!"

He glanced at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "We must've taken a different route," he replied. "This vehicle doesn't need the smoothest path like a horse does. So I took the most direct route—crossed terrain that cavalry couldn't."

She studied him for a moment, marveling at his calm demeanor. There was so much about him that was enigmatic—his strange attire, his unflappable composure, the way he seemed both out of place and yet perfectly at ease. Her gaze lingered on the strong lines of his face, the way his dark hair fell just so over his brow.

Bisera nodded slowly, her mind racing. "So we passed them without even knowing," she murmured, half in awe of the divine contraption that had brought them here. The realization that they had arrived in such a short time left her both impressed and unsettled. There was an undeniable connection between them, forged in the crucible of survival.

As they drew nearer, James's eyes widened at the sight before them. Nviom rose majestically against the horizon, its formidable walls bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Towers pierced the sky, banners emblazoned with the imperial crest fluttering in the breeze. The city was a living tapestry of stone and spirit, a testament to centuries of history and resilience.

"Is that Nviom?" he asked, wonder evident in his voice.

"Yes," Bisera replied, her gaze softening as she looked upon her city. "Home."

He took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale the essence of the place. "It's incredible."

She couldn't help but smile at his reaction. "You should see it from the east, at sunrise. The light makes the stones glow like gold."

He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers. "I'd like to see that with you."

A flutter stirred in her chest, unexpected and unsettling. She quickly averted her gaze, focusing on the road ahead. "Perhaps one day," she said, her tone more guarded.

They approached the city's towering fortress, but their arrival was anything but serene. From atop the battlements, soldiers spotted the strange, roaring beast of metal, and alarm spread like wildfire.

"Enemies approaching!" the lookout shouted, his voice cutting through the evening air. Archers scrambled into position, the tension palpable.

James eased the SUV to a halt, concern etched on his features. "They think we're attacking."

Bisera's eyes flashed with determination. "Stay here," she instructed, her hand briefly brushing his arm—a touch that sent an unexpected warmth coursing through him. "I'll handle this."

She stepped out, her armored boots striking the ground with authority. Standing before the imposing gates, she removed her helmet, allowing her golden hair to cascade over her shoulders. The soft breeze carried a hint of jasmine from the nearby gardens, mingling with the scent of leather and steel.

"Stand down!" she commanded, her voice resonating with the confidence of a seasoned leader.

The soldiers hesitated, their weapons wavering as more of them started to recognized her. Whispers rippled through the ranks. "It's General Bisera!"

Relief and confusion mingled on their faces as the gates slowly creaked open. Bisera strode forward, the setting sun casting a halo of light around her. Behind her, the SUV rumbled softly, its presence both alien and awe-inspiring.

James watched from the driver's seat, his heart pounding—not from fear, but from the sight of her. She was a vision of strength and grace, her armor accentuating the elegance of her form. There was a fierceness in her eyes, a fire that drew him in despite the chasm of time and culture between them.

As she entered the courtyard, soldiers gathered around her. Questions poured forth—about the battle and the strange contraception beside her.

"Where's the rest of the army?" one asked, concern shadowing his features.

Bisera took a deep breath, steeling herself. "We suffered a great loss at Sparklestar River," she began, her voice steady despite the sorrow that laced her words. "The Gillyrians overwhelmed us with thirty thousand troops. Our men fought bravely, but we were outnumbered."

A hush fell over the crowd. Faces paled, and murmurs of disbelief spread like ripples in a pond.

"How did you managed to survive, General?" the officer inquired gently.

She glanced back at the SUV, her gaze softening. "I was saved by James, a great mage from a distant land. He brought me here in his enchanted vessel—a journey that should have taken days, we made in mere hours."

All eyes turned to the direction Bisera was pointing as James stepped out of the SUV. He stood tall, his bearing confident yet humble. The fading light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the enigmatic allure that seemed to surround him.

"A mage?" someone whispered.

"But he wears no robes," another pointed out.

Doubt flickered in their eyes, and Bisera sensed the unease. "I know it is hard to believe," she said firmly. "But consider this—have you ever seen a wagon move without horses? Have you ever heard of anyone crossing such distance in a single day?"

The soldiers exchanged glances, the truth of her words sinking in.

"His powers are a gift from Seraphina, the Archangel of Hope," Bisera continued, her voice carrying conviction. "In our darkest hour, she sent him to aid us in answer to my prayer. His presence here is a sign that the Universal Spirit watches over us."

Some nodded, their skepticism giving way to reverence. Others still harbored doubts, but the respect they held for Bisera tempered their disbelief.

The officer approached James, his expression cautious but respectful. "If what the general says is true, then we are in your debt, mage."

James inclined his head. "I am here to help," he replied simply.

Bisera felt a surge of gratitude—and something more. She realized how much she had come to rely on his steady presence, his unwavering support. In a world turned upside down, he was the new anchor.

"Prepare the defenses," she ordered, turning back to her men. "We have little time before the emperor arrives."

As the soldiers dispersed, Bisera found herself alone with James amidst the bustle of the courtyard.

"Thank you," she said softly, meeting his gaze.

He smiled gently. "For what?"

"For standing by me. For everything."

He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "I should be thanking you. You've taken me in, trusted me when you had every reason not to."

A hint of a smile curved her lips. "Perhaps we're both a little too trusting."

"Or perhaps fate has a hand in this," he suggested.

Their eyes met again, and for a moment, the world around them faded. There was an unspoken understanding, a connection that defied logic.

Bisera cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "You should secure your... enchanted wagon. The men will show you where."

He nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes. "Of course."

As he turned to follow the soldiers, she watched him go, a mix of emotions swirling within her. There was so much she didn't understand about him, yet she couldn't deny the growing bond between them.

Later, as twilight draped the city in shades of indigo and silver, Bisera stood atop the battlements. The stars emerged, one by one, like distant lanterns guiding the way. The cool night air whispered against her skin, carrying with it the distant sounds of preparations below.

"Beautiful night," James's voice came softly beside her.

She hadn't heard him approach, but she wasn't startled. Somehow, his presence felt natural, as if he'd always been there.

"Yes," she agreed, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

He leaned against the stone wall, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. "Do you often come up here?"

"Whenever I need to think," she admitted. "It helps me see the bigger picture."

"And what do you see tonight?"

She sighed softly. "Uncertainty. Danger. But also... hope."

"Because of Seraphina?"

She turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, but also because of you."

He held her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. "I'm glad I could help," he said quietly.

They stood in companionable silence, the weight of unexpressed feelings hanging in the air.

"I just realized I still haven't fulfilled my promise to you," Bisera said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what promise is that?"

She laughed softly, a light, melodic sound that warmed him. "A proper bath for you and me."

James blinked in surprise. "Together?" he asked, his mind racing. That didn't align with what he knew about modesty in medieval societies.

Bisera's heart skipped a beat, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she quickly shook her head. "No! Of course not together!" she exclaimed, her face turning even redder. "Do men and women bathe together in your homeland? That's a Gillyrian custom from when they were still pagan."

She stared at him, overthinking the implications. Could his homeland still hold such pagan practices? Then, as images of groups of men and women bathing together in large public bathhouses—herself and James among them—flashed across her mind, Bisera's face turned completely crimson.

James chuckled lightly, trying to cover his own embarrassment. "No, men and women don't bathe together where I'm from either," he assured her. "But I've read about societies in history that did, so I thought it might be your custom."

Bisera's indignation flared, her eyes narrowing. "First you thought we didn't cleanse ourselves after... relieving ourselves, and now you believe we engage in mixed public bathing! You certainly hold a form of prejudice against my people, don't you?"