As the white liquid entered my mouth, I paused before swallowing to take in the taste, my palms sweating with anxiety. If the poison absorbed through the membrane of my mouth and asophagus, I was risking death. But from what I knew of Iridian society from Farsa, these matters tended to be all or nothing. Either extreme. If you swallowed, you were the only one to blame for your death. Survival of the fittest in its most ruthless form.
The liquid had a taste which seemed off. First it was something akin to cane sugar, but. Then, it happened. ‘Cotton?’ I thought to myself, then it clicked. This was the one. While this meant I could not identify the wine in question, I knew it was not normal. I spit it out into the glass and gave my findings based on what I was taught. So I smiled first. “a fine white for certain, but something is off. Cotton? That is not normally a flavor you find in white wines. Cotton Candy perhaps, but not cotton as is used for casual wear.” Farsa smiles at my conclusions, I continue “that said, the after-taste being the culprit flavor is a devious touch.”
Farsa smiled with the pride of a mother seeing her daughter take the first steps of her life. “You are absolutely correct, that Wilson vintage was spiked with a nerotoxin which upon ingestion, would have killed you even in a small amount. You have passed the first trial.”
I relaxed again, but I did not let my guard down. I had more ahead of me. We walked to the next trial. My boots clicking on the stone tile floors as we went to the start of the next trial. “Your next trial is a trial of combat. You must be ready to defend yourself from opponents who use dirty tricks to dispatch their opponents. I know you are a skilled fighter, but you are used to head-on confrontations.”
With those last words, she smiled. Something was off. And I turned around just in time to spot a dagger in the hands of one of Farsa’s most skilled assassins - my teacher for some of the martial techniques segments of my training. I grabbed the woman’s wrist with the dagger in it, and used the top of my boot hooked behind her ankle as leverage, as I pushed, my foot pulled. My assailant ended up crashing down onto the stone tile on her back.
I kept a hold of her wrist, and tightened my grip. I know I am stronger than any Iridian is because i am a chimera. Until this moment, I had held back full contact for fear of killing anyone. But now, there was no holding back. She struggled, putting a hand onto my face to try and block my line of sight, but it was too late, with a jerk of her wrist, and the crackle of her bones - the dagger loosened from her grip, I threw her hand towards my off-hand and my off-hand took hold of the blade.
Farsa applauded quietly as the sharp edge of the dagger was now against my opponents throat, and their hands raised above her head. “Well done.” she said and smiled at me from under the hood. It was Aersil. One of Farsa’s assassins and a member of the Red Sisters - headed by the matron of house Vanrea, who maintained close ties with house Reghyn, Farsa’s people. She held out a hand as I got off of her after the yield. “Help me up?” I took her hand and helped her to her feet “you are quite strong for a human. Ouch!” she rubbed her wrist a bit. “It was a pleasure to train with you, I also learned a lot.” she smiled, then turned to walk away “I will vouch for you if you ever wish to visit house Vanrea, miss Kara” with that she turned the corner and disappeared.
Farsa was smirking at me “very good, next trial.” we walked through the gardens for a ways, coming to a stop near a building. “Your next trial, navigate a dinner-party.” I nod and enter, while i am not in formal attire, everyone around me is. I know they are actors, but I resolve to treat it as a real dinner function for an Iridian noble house. I sit in a seat at the end of the table, and smile when offered the wine of the evening.
A bit further into the function, Farsa enters and sits on the far end from myself, I stand with everyone else to welcome her as the hostess before re-seating myself with everyone else. I converse with the other partygoers at the table about topics such as galactic events, foreign politics (like that with Humanity, primary the Commonwealth) which proves useful to get me caught up on what I missed in the 13 months I had been in cryostasis, floating in the vacuum of space on a derelict shuttle. As well as recent politics in Iridian society.
“It is surely a mess back in the high-matron’s residence, you see how she conducts her affairs in the court of nobles!” a partygoer says. I smile at her and nod, wordlessly. She continues, her husband seated next to her, a Human male. Good looking, well-mannered, but I spot something off about him.
He holds his fork in his left hand while eating and I spot callouses on his hands. Indicating he holds a blade or some other form of weapon often… practice? Bladed weapons were obsolete in combat by the end of the 19th century in human history, but Iridian society uses bladed weapons as weapons of assassination. The Red Sisterhood is a prime example of this societal custom and norm.
I sip my glass of wine slowly, then set the stemmed glass down on the table. Listening to the woman babble on about how the High-matron is unfit for the position. I half-lid my eyes, and think to myself, tuning her out slightly. So far this has been easy. Has Farsa’s teachings really made navigating social events this much easier? I may never know for certain, but it seems listening to this woman has certainly paid off, as she would be a potential ally in my plot to assassinate the high matron, as Farsa wants me to do in return for all she has given me.
“Are you listening to me?” the woman shoots a look at me, and I open my eyes with a smile “Of course, please, continue. You mentioned her excellency’s tendency to not walk the capital’s streets?” I listen to her ramble further before I finish my wine and stand up, excusing myself “excuse me, I should go freshen up.” I head to the restrooms, and I note one person who stands as well. That same human from before. I smirk to myself ‘it seems I have a tail.’
“Kara Nakamura, keep your hands where I can see them.” he declares to me as we reach a secluded dressing room after the hallways. I smile and turn “I see they have come for me after all this time.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Hands up, no sudden moves.” they are pointing a gun at me, standard issue Mk26 Commonwealth service sidearm, caliber: 10x33 millimeter, weight: 945 grams. Hammer-fired, delay-blowback tilt-barrel/locking-breach handgun. He had the suppressor on the end. “No chance for dialog?” I smile disarmingly “let’s talk.”
He replies “I am afraid we are past that point.” I nod and retort “I see. Good evening?” his head gives a slight nod “I am afraid so.” with that, he puts his hand on the trigger and starts to squeeze the trigger…
Without another word to say, I quickly grab the man’s wrist and push it upwards. My other hand thrusting a palm at his nose, which makes a sickening, crunching noise as his head recoils backward. “ARGH!” his nose drips blood and I tighten my grip on his arm, locking the tendons that allow his fingers to move. His grip loosens and I flick his arm to the side, tossing his gun away out of his hand. It fires once as the trigger is nicked by his trigger finger as it departs his hand. After which I turn and fully extend his arm over a shoulder and lift with a strained grunt "HRGH!". The crunch of his bone and a shrill scream of pain ensue "AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!". Signaling that I hyperextended his elbow, probably stretched out a few ligaments, and tore some muscle.
"HrrrHRRRGH! YOU BITCH!" He punches me in my kidney as hard as he can with a guttural yell "RRRAAH!" and I yelp, hunching forward as he kicks me away into the wall. I impact with a crunch of bone onto the hard stone wall, bounce, and fall to the stone tile floor. As he approaches, I notice a sharp pain in my lower ribs. I clutch at my flank with a hand as the pain throbs.
But upon seeing his foot near my face, I forget the pain and grab the foot. With a sweeping gesture, I bring him to the floor and straddle his chest, punching him in the face repeatedly. he puts a hand to my face to block my vision, and I press my thumbs into his eyeballs, a shriek of pain follows "ARGH!" and I grab his foot after standing, dragging him across the tile and after a twist of his foot, he feebly resists by an attempt to kick at my flank before I throw him across the room and through the wall into the men’s restroom next door with a yell "RRAGH!". I follow him through the hole in the wall.
My opponent stands and picks up a shard of glass in his hand like a knife. His calloused hands prevented the sharp and jagged piece from cutting into his hands. The man is stronger than I anticipated, likely a Chimera as well. “You know you could have just left it be, right?” I ask him.
His reply is to charge me with the shard of glass in hand, ready to run me through with it. I side-step him and with a foot in front of his stride. curling my toes in that foot, I hear a sharp metallic sound as a sharp blade protrudes from the soul of my heeled boot. It cuts into his ankle, forcing him to think about something else as I grab his throat and take him off of his feet and roll with the momentum my opponent carried with him through the charge, aiming to take them to the floor with another yell of effort. "RRRAAAGH!"
After lifting my opponent high, I pile-drive him by his back into the floor amongst the sharp shards of glass with my hand clasped around his throat. I use the reprieve of him recovering and standing to examine the blade protruding out front of my toes from my boot sole. It is sharp, likely self-sharpening with every retraction. Iridians are very fond of turning everyday clothing items into weapons. As demonstrated here and with the hairpieces Farsa gave me. It is them I remember I had chosen to wear two of them, and I retrieved one from my hair, which had been keeping it in a ponytail behind my back. I take the hairpiece and press the sapphire stone in the Sapphire stone inset on the blunt end, and the piece reveals its true colors. A very sinister concealed blade. In plain sight.
I turn my attention back to more pressing matters just as my assailant attempts to reverse my advantage and lifts me up, pinning my back against the wall with a leg under his arm. I run the blade into his stomach, while the glass shard in his hand sinks into my right shoulder. Missing a vital artery by a mere 2 centimeters. "HNGGH, BASTARD!" I grunt in pain through gritted teeth and twist the blade in his gut, pulling it out. His grip on the shard of glass loosens.
I reverse the blade in my hand, rolling it over my fingers and I grab his left arm. Pioretting around and under his arm while at the same time twisting his wrist and then that whole arm to hyperextend his arm behind his hulking back. I sink the blade in my hand into his left armpit and twist it forward to force him to bend over with the pain. A groaned grunt of pain leaves him "WEGH!". Then after pulling out the blade, I stab him in the back of his neck. Running through his neck and with a sudden twist of the sharp metal, His C3 vertebrae separates from his C2 vertebrae which cuts his brain off from his vitals.
His body goes limp, and I pull the blade out, wiping it on his clothing until there is no blood on it, then after I press the blue crystal again, the blade edges cover with the false slats. I slide the weaponized hairpiece back into my ponytail and clean myself up a bit with a spare wash towel. Red blood pooling on the floor as I exit the washrooms.
I hear applause as I exit the washrooms, and it is Farsa! She had been here the whole time?! “Well done, Kara. you just defeated one of your enemies without my assistance or that of others. You also picked up on his intentions and acted accordingly. Very good. That is all I have to teach you. You may even surpass me at this rate” She chuckles at this thought, and with a proud smile she continues “Feel free to stay with me, my home is just as much yours as it is mine. My mother’s old room is yours now. This concludes your training.” I quirk an eyebrow “So you fed me one of my enemies from one year ago for my training?”
Farsa smiles at me self-deprecatingly. ‘She intended for this to happen, did she?’ I sigh “You could have made that less dangerous.” Farsa giggled “Where is the fun in that? You won, I never doubted your abilities in combat. But your training from the past few months has made you more aware of who your enemies are and who your foes are.”
I opened my mouth wordlessly and then shut it, she was right. No use saying more. Farsa sighs “That said, I meant it. This is as much your house as it is mine. Feel free to come and go as you please.”