Chapter 350: The Mysterious Troupe
In the dark hours of the night, the leaves of Glimmer Grove glowed a fluorescent array of blues, purples, and greens. Though there was no fire, the canopy illuminated the Singing Willow Troupe’s camp. The camp had been arranged in a set of three rings, with the outer ring being composed of their wagons, which formed a loose circle and a sort of barrier from whatever animals might lurk in the woods.
Several bright colorful tents composed the middle ring, most of the troupe was already asleep within them. They were all exhausted from the day’s battle in the outskirts of Undergrowth and the subsequent escape into the forest.
The few that were still awake and not standing guard tended to the injured who lay on cots at the center of the camp. Loh lay on a cot, staring up at the fluorescent canopy. One of the troupe’s white mages, a dancer with bright blue eyeshadow, had tended to her wounds with healing magic.
Though most of Loh’s wounds had been healed, the process had left her body drained to the point she could barely turn her neck. While chromatic healing magic was strong, it paled in comparison to elemental life magic and it was far more limited. Her bandaged leg was a clear reminder of that. Even the slightest movement of her leg caused her shattered femur incredible pain.
Usually, Loh would have complained about her injuries and cursed Lord Loch for causing them. But her wounds seemed insignificant whenever she glanced at the simple green tent that stood alone at the very center of the camp. The most skilled white mages of the troupe were inside the tent, tending to the most grievously injured. Vayu had been taken in first, and though several other wounded had been carried in and out, Vayu was still inside.
“Cousin,” Unalla whispered hesitantly. “Our chief healer is a high-master. She knows what she’s doing. Your friend will be alright.”
Loh turned her neck and looked at the drow girl sitting a few cots away. Unalla wasn’t injured, but she had decided to stay with the wounded through the night. She posed an odd sight, a young petite drow sitting next to an orichalcum sword twice her size. One might think it was funny, ridiculous even, but Loh had seen the destruction that young girl had wrought with her sword.
“Cousin…?” Loh muttered in confusion.
“Oh, right. You don’t know,” the young girl muttered. “I thought the Ebon Aspirant or Lady Ismene might have told you, but I guess not. I am Unalla, daughter of Una of the Great House of Noir.”