Season of Valen(Season of Morality)

  Whiest, Kingdom of Vicris 

I didn’t call to Death but Death called to me. Death took a little girl and graced her with his presence to make her into something else. 

It’s been about two cycles through our seasons since my parents decided a fourteen year old was too much work, I’m at least sixteen now. 

I was a lousy pickpocket during the first brutal seasons but since then I learned how to gamble and play cards. I also have become much more talented as a thief. Hand-to-hand combat has become an obsession. I am able to use a blade much like an extension of my arm. I fancy any kind of sharp weapon and right now the one I have is old and dull. So I go out to do what I do best, steal. I am now out searching for people with the best daggers attached to their hips. 

I see a noble boy, he looks about 17, only a year older than me. He has the most beautiful 

dagger sheathed at his side. He has no guards, it is nighttime, and he is wearing all black with his hood up. For a moment I doubt if he is a noble or if he was really just a rat who had stolen it, then I notice the stiffness in his posture and the way his head is slightly tilted upwards. No one on these streets keeps their head upwards, head and shoulders constantly slumped. Not just to avoid attention but from the pressure from the world on their shoulders. 

So now I know he is a noble, probably a young lord but I am so blinded by the stunning blade that I don’t care. I walk past making sure my strides are wide. The more confident I seem the more confident I will feel. I snake my arm out and unsheathe his dagger from his side. I hide it in my old and tattered coat, all in one perfect swift motion. I was nearing an alley I could slip into and be cloaked in shadows. 

I turn my head back; my only mistake and a dangerous one. An easy tell for anyone with a brain. He had just noticed his missing blade. He was scanning the street for the culprit. His piercing blue eyes were the only thing I could make out under his hood. His eyes stopped me in my tracks, I don’t why but those eyes feel like they saw the darkest parts of me. 

At that moment I knew that he knew. He takes off after me. Few people are loitering on the precarious night streets so it is easy to weave between them. I take off down to the alley. My hood fell off in the process. My hair whips everywhere, obscuring my vision. I turn into the alley and see a fence. I let out a string of curses, I picked this alley to hide in, not to be chased through. I sigh and scale the fence as quickly as I can. But the boy is faster, he is on my tail. My short stature stunts my speed over the fence. But the boy is lanky so he is able to fly over the fence. He is now right behind me. I spin around and land a push kick to his gut in a way so graceful I surprise myself. He gasps for air and stumbles backward. I think about running but I know I would not be able to outrun him. My only hope is to fight him. 

I dug my feet into the ground. Most nobles couldn’t fight in a real street fight anyway. The stuff they are taught is for shows. He recovers quickly. I pull his dagger from my coat. I twirl it between my fingers to get the feel for the different hilt, size, and heaviness from my old one. 

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“For a lady, you handle a blade well” the young lord observes. I took his distraction as an opportunity to gain the upper hand. I jab the dagger toward his chest cavity. It’s a sloppy move but very powerful, fatal even. He avoids the blow effortlessly. I am now in a low stance and extended from the attempted hit and he takes advantage of that. He throws a well-placed knee at my jaw. My vision grew warped. I stumble and fall to my back. The gravel digs into my shoulder blades. I shake my head as if to clear away the distortion. 

I recover and throw a kick at his kneecap. It was a dirty move but I didn’t care, I was past playing fair. The main thing I care about is that it is effective. He grunts in pain. I knew his kneecap was now displaced. However he doesn’t fall. I hop nimbly to my feet and throw a punch aiming for what I hope is his nose.

 It is like I am trying to fight a shadow because his face is shrouded by shadows. His hood had fallen at some point but I still couldn’t make out any of his features besides those damned haunting eyes that glow like blue lanterns. I could only hope the blackness was causing him the same troubles as it was me. He dodges my punch and counters with his own. It skims my cheekbone and the ring he is wearing cuts me. I hiss softly, already feeling the hot blood running down my cheek. 

It continued like this for what felt like hours. Some of my punches and kicks landed, and some he dodged. He fared the same. I could feel swelling and bruises forming just about everywhere. My muscles ached, unfamiliar with this much combat. I had refrained from using the weapon but now I finally spin the dagger in my hand and hit him in the temple with the butt of the hilt. 

Since the weapon was court standard it was made from only the finest materials. I wouldn’t expect a young lord to have one this nice, it looked more like something a prince or king would have, but I suppose the court had changed since I “was sent off for more schooling”. 

The materials it was made from made the weapon, especially the hilt, very heavy. That made the hilt just as useful as the blade as long as the person using it was skilled enough to not cut themselves in the process. It was tricky and I had an excessive amount of small scars on my right hand from it, but after practicing for a while I had it mastered. 

The young lord fell to his knees. I have a mere second to ponder my options. I couldn’t exactly let him run around yelling out my description. Even though I don’t think he recognized me or he would’ve said something. On the other hand, I can’t kill him without being hunted. He obviously had secrets otherwise he wouldn’t have been out here in the first place. I sigh and squat in front of him. I press the tip of the dagger against the underside of his chin hard enough to draw blood. I watch it drip down the blade. I was delighted at how sharp it was. 

“You’ve caused me a bit of a dilemma, sir. So I’ll make you a bargain that way we both get what we want. I won’t kill you and I won’t tell your little court friends that one of their own is slinking around in shadows and alleyways at midnight, with no guards. I get to keep the dagger and you won’t tell anyone about me. I think that is more than fair, yes? We both keep our secrets and our lives, understood?” I speak low and dark. He mumbles a quiet agreement, not wanting to move the blade any deeper. I toss my old dagger at his knees and put the new one into my sheath. I started to walk away but stopped. 

“And as for your earlier comment. I’m not a lady. Not anymore” I almost whisper the last two words. I hoped he didn’t hear it. When I step onto the street a man emerges from seemingly thin air. He claps. Slow and deliberate. 

“One hell of a fight darling,” he says with a soft smirk playing on his lips.