I caved in and gave up on walking by foot. It turns out that the way from Gaskoff to Gestalt is three days long. On a beast. Even with a carriage. I had resigned and decided to make do with whatever sources available.
Something told me that the druid was a liar.
He had brewed me something with the stench of a boiled bitter guard, mixed with a paste of spoilt groundnuts.
"Are you sure it's supposed to be a restoring potion?" I asked.
"Of course, Your Highness. It would restore your body's wounds and give you great energy to go about your day," his face instantly glowed up.
"Are you sure-"
Before I could say more, he held it to my lips.
"Go-" the dreaded liquid ended up in my mouth. Signs of impending nausea. And puke. I wanted to throw up badly.
"No, Your Highness. You must drink all of it!" He clubbed my jaw with his hand, as the liquid made it down my throat.
Blergh.
"If this doesn't work, I am going to kill you-" I said. More in my annoyance.
The old man fell to my feet and started begging.
'Shit. I was still not used to being a Dukeorsomething.'
"I won't kill you, old man! Please, do not wail at my feet!" I scoffed...
Something told me that I will always be a broody little thing, stuck in this body. A duke. A dragon. A man. A whole package that can be unanimously called a dick.
"Your Highness, I am grateful for your mercy. Please give the potion some time! It's sure to show its effects. It's very potent!" The druid added.
It dawned on me that I hadn't asked him his name yet.
"What's your name?" I asked, and the druid's eyes grew wide. He looked shocked for a minute. His fingers dig deeper into his hair.
"Oh God.... Perhaps, the thing that I dreaded has happened," he wailed.
Are all druids this dramatic? Do they all hide a penchant for drama under their long flowy beard.
"A druid's one true achievement is to be recognised for his many skills. Almost a hundred years of my life has passed.
Not once did a King ask me for my name.
To be recognised, is an honour," his eyes glowed.
Maybe with the beard gone, one could tell he was smiling. His wrinkly forehead seemed to have formed soft lines.
"I, am Jambine, the Druid. My father was a wood dwarf, who served the Former King Without a name, in his numerous conquests," he added.
"I did not share his interests. Fairly enough, I thought I was more apt with a needle then with a sword.
My mother was a human. She brewed herbs to form medicines. I learnt my talents from her," he beamed.
I sighed. How do Dukes normally respond to conversations like these? It seemed far too important and intimate to be brushed off. Or looked over.
Just then, my eyes fall to the carriage's door, where Joel sat with her head by the window.
"Well then, Jambine The Druid, I ask you to brew something for the girl.
Look to it, that by the time we are at the Capital, her health is restored," I added.
"Rest assured, Your Highness. I take pride in your confidence in me.
But..."
Good Lord. Any more talking and I would surely lose my head. Needless to say that the road was growing thorny and my will to continue this journey was thinning.
"What is it now? Please, tell me..." I groaned.
"My apologies, Your Highness. It's just that, the little girl is a prisoner. She is getting more than what's her due," Jambine tells me.
"But she's just a girl.
I do not have a soft spot for crimes.
But she is not proven guilty yet. Isn't it easy to be humane to her if we can help it, before and if, we have to punish her?" I added solemnly.
"Indeed. But she is also a witch. An abused witch none the less. Her abilities are compromised. She can turn out to be dangerous," Jambine adds, worriedly.
"What do you mean, Jambine?"
"Well, Your Highness... Druids can tell by the make, and flow of mana whether the creature possesses threat to themselves or others.
As for the little girl, she harbours enough anger in her. It's going to intervene with her ability to control mana.
Angry witches tend to be more dangerous. Their anger consumes their goodwill. It makes them evil. Sometimes, the wickedness becomes irrepressible," he adds, a little amused.
"And what do you suggest we do with her to prevent that from happening?" I asked.
"Killing her is what most leaders would do, but not you, Your Highness... because I know you are not you..." He said.
I gulped the lump in my throat. Had he found out already? That inside this idiot Duke's body, I was just a girl? Had my kindness given it away? Is it because I hadn't peed in ten hours or so, because I don't know how to do that in front of men?
Good Lord. It would be record time before I get discovered, arsoned or hanged.
"Wh- What do you mean?"
"What I mean by that is..." Jambine looked into my eyes.
"You are a regal half dragon. I can sense the mana in your veins. It's of the purest form. And hence you cannot help but save those around you," he nods his hand, as his beard flows and creates waves along it.
Creepy, if you ask me.
"So?"
"So, I suggest Your Highness, that I make her fantastic potion that numbs her pain and makes her calm down," he adds.
'This dramatic bitch.
Is he fucking serious? Isn't that what I proposed?'
These men couldn't even handle a man's opinion. It had to be about them. All the damn time!
"Also..." Jambine interrupts my line of thought, scratching his beard.
"It would be nice if someone asks her what happened. It's known to help people calm down!" The Druid tells me.
'You bet your Dwarf ass it is! Genius. Pure genius. Why didn't I think of that before?'
"Well then, why don't you go and talk to her as you brew the potion for her?" I proposed.
"Y- Your Highness, M-m-me? J-jambine, the druid cannot talk with a girl!" His eyes sunk into his face. His wrinkly skin turned red.
'A Virgin wood dwarf was the least of my concerns. Maybe, I will do it myself.'
"Good gracious. Is anyone around here a real man?" I blanched.
Guess, they didn't get it all wrong afterall. Behind every successful man, there was a woman standing. Frowning. Possibly angry. Throwing instructions at his face.
"I will go talk to the little girl," I announced. The sooner I get it out of the way, the better. I don't want more problems to worry about.