A Knight's Secret

Act I.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.” -William Shakespeare

Vela stood at the top of a mountain. A very tall and imposing mountain, and she gulped as she looked down, down, down, past strands of dry gold grass and dark rocks that crumbled beneath her pooves and fell from where she stood, bouncing from stone to stone, all the way to the bottom to where a small mining town lay.

“So this is Obrille.” She thought to herself, recalling St. Florentines words.

When she woke up in her comfy cottage in Goldfair, she never suspected that by the end of the day, thanks to a determined and dreamy Saint, she would be standing at the summit of a mountain miles from home in the Ebony Wreath. She sighed, and recalled the words of St. Florentine.

“In the structured town of Obrille lives a pouflon, brave and valiant, training for a life even more so brave and valiant. A young knight who on their many patrols of the border had a chance encounter. I got a quick glance of their auras and I think they are simply fit to be together, no matter what. It would be an awful lot of help if you could go collect Romulon and help them to abscond from Obrille!”

Vela barely had time to register the sight of St. Florentine, a real life Deity oh my Pouf oh no are they here to deliver a parent letter?? But we are not at that stage- before their words sunk in and with a wink and a nudge, a soft gentle breeze had whisked her to Obrille.

Or, at least, to the top of this tall and scary mountain that overlooked Obrille. The town was almost pretty, in a steady, autumn-esque way. Not beautiful like her beloved Goldfair, of course, with its gentle flowers in an array of iridescent hues and soft green trees but maybe there was beauty in the sheer determination of the poufs that lived here, making it work in the harsh climate.

She took a deep breath, and opened her wings, gliding down to the village below, where she walked to the border and waited for the pouf she knew would soon be making their away down the well-trodden path on her patrol.

Surely enough, Vela soon saw them. A pouflon dressed in the training armour of a knight, with curling horns (a sure sign of royal heritage), golden colours, and rich brown hair. They were the very picture of strength and sureness, but their carefully maintained persona was betrayed by the lovesick expression on their face. And Vela knew she had to unite them, gosh darn it she was invested. She sighed, and grinned, and walked over to Romulon.

“You, my friend, are so in love it hurts me to watch, and I am going to get you out of here”. Vela said confidently.

Romulon stared at her. “Ok. First of all who are you and second of all how do you know about Vespilet and third I can’t leave!”.

“Ah.” Vela laughed. “Yeah, I guess I should explain. Florrie visited me,” (Romulon’s eyes widened at this), “and I’m here I guess, on their behalf?”

Romulon sighed, a faint blush colouring their cheeks, and in that moment looked so sad and small that Vela’s heart melted for the poor lovesick pouflon, forgetting just a second ago she had been almost intimidated by the imposing figure the knight-in-training cut.

“I guess Florrie does have a reputation for meddling like this, and I so wish I could leave with you, but it’s not that simple. Vespilet is a Vespire. We can’t be together. It’s forbidden. My family, my training-”

“It’s okay!! It’s alright Romulon, don’t panic. I’ll admit this does make things a little more complex, but I’m going to get you too together if it’s the last thing I do.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” Vela flashed her a sunny smile that she hoped didn’t betray the knot of anxiety in her stomach because oh butterbeans Vespilet being a Vespire did make things harder.

“Do you trust me?” Vela asked, looking into the knight’s wide blue eyes.

“I only just met you”

“I can get us out of here. You’re on patrol, alone, it’s the perfect moment. C’mon, it’ll be fine I swear-”

Romulet inhaled, and looked down at Obrille for what she knew instinctively would be the last time. She followed Vela into the sky, the bright pouf nodding encouragingly at her.

And St. Florentine watched over them and smiled.