A chilling wind atop the wall whipped through Arlette’s hair and made her eyes water. Blinking repeatedly to clear her vision, she sidestepped the swing of an incoming warhammer and rushed forward. The massive weapon continued on its arc towards Kima Escarain, who bent backwards to the point that her body looked like an arch as the hammer’s head sailed over her. Twisting about unnaturally, the small spearwoman thrust up at her opponent from below at an equally awkward, unexpected angle, forcing the hammer-wielder to quickly hop back.
Arlette slipped past the pair. Kima could handle this on her own, Arlette was sure. The small woman wasn’t much on power, but she made up for it by being nearly impossible to hit. It seemed her Feeler ability allowed her to contort herself in ways that no person should be capable of as if her entire body was double-jointed, avoiding hits in ways others couldn’t and striking from strange, unusual directions. Against a slower melee opponent, Arlette didn’t have to worry about her. Kima would handle it just fine. Meanwhile, Arlette would focus on something she herself was good at and take out the Observer in the back.
The Observer, a man of average height and build with short green hair and a scar over one of his eyes, spotted her as she approached, her real body ducking to the right while her illusory clone mirrored her to the left. The man froze for a split second before sending a small blast of flame towards the fake Arlette. The real Arlette smiled. They fell for it so often.
The gout of flame blasted through the fake Arlette’s space as real Arlette flashed forward, a deadly thrust aiming for the Observer’s side, but unexpectedly, she did not feel the telltale resistance of blade on flesh. Instead, the man swayed back, avoiding the incoming sword, and in one smooth motion grabbed her outreached arm on the wrist and pulled her forward. A foot caught her leg and she tumbled to the ground as the sword was wrenched from her hands. The next thing she knew, the man was on top of her as he drew a dagger from beneath his tunic.
What.
Arlette didn’t have time to pull out a knife of her own. She could only reach out with her hand and grab the man’s wrist as best she could, trying with all her strength to stave off a quick and sudden death. Unfortunately, the man was stronger than her and had gravity and leverage on his side. Try as she might, the blade slowly descended towards her chest. Realizing that she couldn’t stop the blade, she quickly shifted tactics and tried to redirect it, desperately she twisted her shoulders while pushing the knife to the side.
Given the sudden lack of resistance, the man drove the dagger deep into Arlette’s left shoulder, sending waves of pain roaring through her body. A furious pained growl escaped her lips as she continued to wrestle with the Observer, using her good right arm to keep the knife buried in her shoulder instead of somewhere much worse. The man snarled and a ball of flame flashed into existence just above her. Muttering several choice expletives, Arlette released her grip on the man’s wrist to backhand him across the face as hard as she could. His head rocked back and the flame disappeared just before it could plummet down and roast her face into cinders.
Arlette hadn’t even been sure that her panicked tactic would even work. Observers needed focus and concentration to manifest their abilities. Break their concentration, be it through pain or some other method, and any phenomenon they’d created that wasn’t fully manifested would disappear. However, a few talented and highly trained Observers were able to maintain their focus through all sorts of situations. Given this man’s reactions to her attack and the scar across his face, she’d thought it possible that he was one of these formidable veterans of battle. It seemed, however, that he was not.
Unfortunately for her, by releasing his hands to strike his head, Arlette had also forfeited her ability to hold off his knife. Another wave of pain washed over her as the knife was pulled from her wound, and the man brought the dagger up for another strike towards her heart. She was out of ideas.
Right as the grimacing Observer was about to send the knife downward once more and plunge it deep into her chest, the blade of a sword erupted from his neck. Blood spurted out onto her face and shoulders and the suddenly dead Observer flopped limply on top of her. She blinked, becoming aware of her surroundings beyond her opponent again. Sergeant Vero Muga stood over her and the body, his face grim. He offered her a hand to pull her up. She took it.
“You over-extended yourself again,” he chided with a scowl as he helped her to her feet.
“Sorry, I- behind you!” she cried, frantically pulling out a throwing knife with her good arm. Three Ubrans had managed to take advantage of Sergeant Muga’s distraction to attack his exposed back. Arlette whipped her knife past her commander as he brought his shield around. Her knife struck true, slicing into the throat of the Ubran on the right, while Sergeant Muga’s large shield blocked the spear of the one in the center. That still left the one coming in from the left side, however. Arlette cursed the fact that her left arm had just been injured.
An icicle embedded itself in the remaining Ubran’s side. She glanced in the icicle’s direction, though she knew who she would find before she even looked: Danel Ipizu, the squad’s ice Observer. He didn’t even return her glance, his gaze already sweeping the area for more threats to the squad as Lezo Zambudio and his axe kept him safe.
Like most armies, the Eterians divided their soldiers up into a series of progressively smaller units, with the smallest being a five-person squad. That was because when it came to battles like this where large-scale strategy quickly fell apart and became a chaotic scrum of death, the best method for success was to stick with your squad and utilize teamwork and mismatches to survive and fight towards victory. Usually following the direction of the squad captain, the squad was supposed to balance two somewhat conflicting goals: to work as a cohesive whole, covering each other’s weaknesses and preventing the enemy from isolating and picking off any one member of the squad, while also setting up individual squad members against opponents who they could handle with ease. Finding a balance between the two was not easy, and only squads that could manage it would last.
Arlette was still getting the hang of fighting in a squad like this. She was used to shouldering more of a burden and taking initiative whenever possible. Even now, after so many days of fighting, she still sometimes tried to do too much, which would often lead to her getting separated from the others. She still thought and fought like a mercenary.
The ability of the defenders to fight as organized squads was one of the reasons that they had been able to hold the wall for so long. The Ubrans surely had squads and other organization as well, but they couldn’t maintain such order when trying to summit the wall. Instead, it was just an endless tide of soldiers cresting the walls while the Eterians tried to hold them back, be it by knocking over the ladders, shooting them with projectiles, or dropping nasty surprises on top of the climbing Ubran warriors.
A pair of low, rumbling roars made Arlette’s hair stand on end and she quickly retreated towards the wall’s inner edge to join up with her squad and the other defenders. Together, the Eterians did their best to set up a wall of blades and shields along the inner half of the wall’s walkway as the Ubrans frantically tried to be anywhere but where they were. There was one other large reason that Crirada still held, and that reason was fast approaching.
A jaglioth was a massive bundle of muscle, claws, teeth, and fur that weighed more than twenty men. It wanted to rend your flesh from your bones with claws as long as swords, tear your head off with a single chomp of his massive mouth lined with dagger-like teeth, and then swallow the rest of you with just a few large bites... and that was when it was having a good day. Arlette shuddered reflexively as she remembered the raw fury of that jaglioth mother they’d accidentally angered when escaping Kutrad. If that ravine hadn’t been there, she’d be dead already. That monster of rage incarnate had wanted nothing less than to reduce each and every one of them into bloody smears on the forest floor.
Two of these murder machines were barreling along the outer edge of the wall, doing what they did best. Even after so many days of seeing the Jaglioth Cavalry in action, Arlette couldn’t fathom how the Kutradians had managed to tame them. She kept waiting for one of the jaglioths to buck its riders and chow down on them, but it never happened. Perhaps they were simply content with the wide selection of Ubrans with which to eat and vent their frustrations.
The situation presented the Ubrans on the wall with four options, none of them good. Some of the Ubrans tried to punch a gap into the wall of Eterian soldiers and create a pocket of safety out of the way of the jaglioths’ path. Some ran away from the charging behemoths, while others tried to climb back up atop the outer edge of the wall or even onto ladders still filled with more Ubrans making their way up. The final few, the bold, the brave, the suicidal, tried to fight the beasts head-on.
No matter their choice, things did not go well for the poor trapped Ubrans. Those that threw themselves upon the wall of shields and blades were largely beaten back, while the few with the power and numbers to hollow out a space out of the jaglioth’s way were now surrounded by enemies instead. Those that ran were simply trampled to death, the jaglioths’ long, powerful strides letting them overtake all but the swiftest Feelers. Those that summited the outer edge to avoid the beasts instead had to deal with their riders. Each jaglioth carried between two and three people armed with bows and spears, and they put their weaponry to good use knocking as many Ubrans as they could from the wall as they passed by. Still, some of the Ubrans who took these three options survived. Not many, but a few. The same could not be said for those who chose to stand their ground.
With a panicked scream, an Ubran woman unleashed a fireball twice the size of her head at the oncoming creature’s armored muzzle. Such a blast would have been more than enough to kill a normal soldier, but as the flames exploded against the beast’s metal-clad head, all that she got for her efforts was an enraged bellow. The jaglioth emerged from the blast even madder than before as the flames heated the armor to the point that it was burning through its fur and skin—nothing permanently damaging for an animal that size, but definitely painful enough to piss it off even more. In just a few strides the jaglioth was upon her, picking her up in its mouth by her head and shoulders and whipping her around like a rag doll as it continued its way down the wall, before finally biting through the poor woman’s body and flinging the lower half over the wall.
All in all, it was an effective defensive system. Arlette could not help but be impressed by the tactical brilliance of Supreme General Astalaria’s mind. He and his staff seemed able to get the most out of their limited resources. Unfortunately, brilliance or no, those resources were starting to run a little thin. In the short pause in the fighting as the pair of jaglioths swept by, Arlette glanced around and frowned. There were noticeably fewer defenders around than there had been during the first attack forty-three days ago. Meanwhile, the Ubrans seemed to attack with as many, if not more, people every time. The Eterians could hold out for now, but how much longer would they be able to resist the weight of the enemy bearing down on them?
Arlette’s thoughts went to the wound on her shoulder. Blood was dripping out of it at a steady rate and she couldn’t use her left arm without a spike in pain, but she didn’t have time to properly take care of it. Already more faces were cresting the wall’s outer lip. The defenders surged forward with a battle cry, and Arlette went with them holding her sword just in her right hand.
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“You actually got hit, huh?” remarked Lezo with a sarcastic smirk as the squad descended down the stairs leading to the city. “This is what, just your second wound so far or something?”
“Not everybody is dumb enough to get stabbed every day like you, Lezo,” Kima responded before Arlette could. She twisted back to stare the axe-wielder in the eye. “We do this thing called ‘dodging’.”
“Is that what you call it? Because I thought it was called ‘being scared and weak’.” He casually flexed a scar-covered bicep, causing Arlette to groan and roll her eyes. Men.
“It’s been a while since our last duel,” Kima replied with disdainful amusement. “You seem to have forgotten how much I whipped your ass the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that too.”
“That was then, this is now,” he shot back. “I’ll beat you this time, no problem.”
“Bring it, meathead.”
“Both of you knock it off,” Sergeant Muga called from up ahead. “I’m too tired for your shit today.”
“Yes, sir,” they both replied, giving each another a glare.
Arlette tried her best not to giggle at the bickering pair. It was plain to see that the two didn’t get along one bit and that their dislike for each other was real. And yet, Arlette was absolutely certain that the two of them fucked. Often. She didn’t have actual proof, but everything she saw pointed to the idea that these two mismatched soldiers were in some sort of physical relationship.
While on one hand she found the idea highly amusing, on the other she couldn’t really understand it. Was it possible to be attracted to somebody you hated? Was it possible to love someone while simultaneously despising them? Arlette had never really had the time to explore the complicated world of romance. She’d been too busy leading a mercenary band through this harsh reality, and before that she’d never been popular. Everybody in town knew that even though her second father and mother had bestowed their family name upon her, she wasn’t really a Demirt. No, she was the weird girl, the one who’d showed up out of nowhere, jumped at sudden noises, and rarely talked to anybody but her second father and mother. Even as she grew up and became a woman, few people had shown interest in her. And then she’d gone off into the world and never looked back.
Arlette shifted herself to the side as she approached the end of the seemingly-endless flights of stairs, making room for the group of Sweepers heading up towards the top of the wall, the sound of their breath echoing inside their animal masks. She didn’t envy their task one bit. There was a lot of blood, gore, and corpses up there. Still, somebody had to clean it up. She was simply glad it wasn’t her.
As the squad reached solid ground once more, Arlette turned to head home, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Going somewhere so soon?” Kima asked.
“Yeah, I was going to head home.”
The smaller woman shook her head. “Not until we’ve wrapped your wound.”
“I can do it myself,” Arlette protested.
“With one hand? I don’t think so. Come on, let’s not fall behind.”
Arlette frowned as small woman dragged her towards an abandoned tavern a little ways away from the wall. The squad, along with several other units, had taken to unwinding there after battles. Arlette tried to avoid joining them. While she had nothing against most of her squadmates, she didn’t want to get too attached to any of them. Nothing good would come of that. Then, of course, there was Danel. The man had stayed true to his word thus far and told nobody about her true identity. Still, she didn’t trust him one bit. Even if he was just a “normal” man who’d figured out who she was all on his own, nobody that smart should be easily trusted.
Kima sat Arlette down on a bench inside the tavern and pulled out some bandages they’d stored there. Meanwhile, the others plopped down elsewhere in the large room and began chatting with another squad that was already present.
“So I heard that illusions take lots of focus to get right,” Kima said as she began wrapping a layer of bandages around Arlette’s arm. “My ma said that’s why Manys are the way they are, because they’re busy focusing on the illusion. So how come you can do the stuff you do, running around with a fake copy and stuff while fighting? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“It’s not that special,” Arlette answered. She shrugged nonchalantly, a mistake which sent a stab of pain through her shoulder.
“Sure it is. Illusion Observers are very rare, and they almost never see an actual battlefield. But you’re dancing through the chaos like it’s as easy as breathing. What makes you so different?”
Arlette didn’t respond. She hated thinking about that time in her life.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” Kima prodded. “I’m curious. We all are.”
“Luck. Luck and training. Lots, and lots, and lots of training.”
“That’s all? Just training and good luck, huh?”
“No, not good luck. The opposite. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. There’s... not a lot of happy memories.”
“Alright, alright. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry and all. It’s just that I think it’s really neat, what you do. Even Lezo was impressed, though he only says so when you’re not around.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Kima finished wrapping up the wound and Arlette stood up. “I think I’m going to head home now. Thanks for the help.”
“You sure you don’t want to stick around a bit, get to know everybody a little better?”
“Sorry, I have... things to do.” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. It was obvious that Kima wanted her to bond with everybody a bit, but as awkward as what she’d just said sounded, it was actually true. She needed to get home and eat before it got too late, because her night was going to be very, very busy.
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The first thing Arlette heard when she entered her home was a horrified gasp, followed by an “OHMYGODAREYOUALRIGHT?!” as Sofie rushed over to her side. The Earthling hovered around her wound, staring at it with grave concern but afraid to touch it.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Arlette grumpily said as she pushed her way into the house and made her way towards the hearth. Vegetable stew, along with a bit of rock-hard bread. Again. Not that she was shocked; the city was practically out of meat now, to the point where getting some for themselves was impossible.
“What happened?”
“I underestimated an opponent. I’m lucky, really. I should have died.”
“He must have been strong to stab right through your armor like that.”
“What? Didn’t you know my armor was destroyed on the first day? You haven’t seen me wear it since.”
“Oh, I thought you were just keeping it somewhere by the wall because it was easier or something. I guess that sounds dumb when I say it out loud,” Sofie admitted sheepishly. "Why not scavenge a replacement from somebody else who... isn't... alive anymore?"
"I've tried a bit, just haven't found anything worth taking that also fit me. I haven't had the time to really look harder with all the searching I've been doing at night."
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Ugh... I get so anxious whenever you’re fighting. I get so worried that one of these days you’re not going to come back, and now that I know you don’t have your armor that makes it even worse.”
“That’s life,” Arlette said. “Get used to it.”
Sofie grumbled but didn’t say anything more for a little while.
“Where’s Pari?” Arlette asked after a bit.
“She was getting grumpy so I had her take a nap. She’s been feeling really confined recently and it’s coming out in bad ways.”
Arlette chuckled. “Are you sure that’s not just her growing up? I mean she has to be what, ten years old by now? Or at least nine, right? She’s starting to grow.”
“I know, and it bothers me that she isn’t eating enough. It’s going to stunt her growth.”
“Well at least that means we don’t need to find her new clothes very soon,” Arlette said with a wry grin.
Sofie shot her a glare before looking away with a resigned look on her face. “I guess you’re right.”
“Speaking of which, does that arm sleeve she won’t ever take off still fit? It was pretty tight when we first found her. You’d think that by now it would be too constricting for her.”
The arm sleeve in question was a thin sheath that covered the beastgirl’s left forearm. Made of some sort of red organic material with a single dark stone in the center, the band had always been just one more mystery concerning the precocious child.
“Yeah, it’s weird,” Sofie agreed. “It seems to stretch so that it always fits her arm snugly but not too tight. It would be nice if all clothes were like that.”
“Did you ever get her to tell you where she got that thing? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Sofie rolled her eyes. “Guess.”
“Good ol’ granddad?”
“Yyyyyup.”
“Of course. I don’t know what I expected.”
“Mmm!” Sofie hummed, straightening up suddenly. “That reminds me! When Pari and I went to get food this morning, Pari ran off into an alley again and we stumbled on these people who were acting all fishy, like they didn’t want us seeing what they were up to.”
“Were they building something?”
“Yeah! They chased us off before we could see what, though. I checked back later and I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. How’d you know?”
Arlette’s mouth widened into a fierce, predatory grin. “Because I’ve been spying on them the last few nights. It’s him. I’m sure of it.”
“Woah, woah, hold up. You think they’re part of Sebastian’s group?”
“Yes. Be sure to stay away from them.”
Sofie leaned back, arms crossed and a skeptical look in her eyes. “You said the same thing last time. And the time before that.”
“No, no, I said that I thought it was them before. This time I’m sure of it. It’s Sebastian. It has to be.” She leaned forward, Sofie’s unconvinced look pushing her onward. “Listen. There have been several groups of mercenaries building hidden compartments all across the working quarter. I’ve been looking into them since I found them a few days ago. Now you have to admit that what they’re doing is suspicious no matter how you look at it.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you that. Doesn’t mean that it’s him, though.”
“But what about this? The mercenaries belong to a band called the Band of the Silent Tower. They’ve only existed for three years, but even in so little time they’ve built up a reputation of stunning victories and brilliant schemes. Not only that, the man leading them, Haci Guven, is the same height and build as Sebastian. But most of all, he never takes off his armor or helmet.”
Sofie arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“Oh come on! A group that comes out of nowhere to sudden unnatural success, committing suspicious clandestine acts! A leader with Sebastian’s body who never shows his face! It’s him! It has to be!”
“Alright, let’s say you’re actually on to something here and it’s him. What are you going to do about it?”
“It’s simple. I’m going to kill him.”
“Th-that’s it? You’re not going to report him to the Eterians or something?”
“Why would they believe me? I’m a nobody. And even more, they might tip him off. No, the best, most sure way to stop him is just to kill him. I can explain it all to the authorities afterwards.”
“It still seems like a bit much. Why not find something a little more definite? All you have right now is circumstantial evidence.”
“I don’t want to risk the chance that he’ll act before I can find absolute proof. If he can execute his plan, there will be no hope for this city. I have to strike now.”
“Even with a hurt arm? Can you even win against him like that?”
Arlette held up her left arm and flexed it a bit, trying to keep the pain that shot through her shoulder from reaching her face. Though the wound would be all better within just a few days, it still had just begun to heal. “It’s already a bit better, see? I’ll be striking from the shadows so it will be fine.”
“You’re making a mistake. You don’t even know that he’s here.”
“Yes, I do!” Arlette stood up in a huff. “You saw him! That rat bastard is alive and there’s nowhere else he’d be but here! I’m not going to sit around and let him do to this place what he did to my home! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if it doesn’t meet your lofty standards! Why should I listen to you, anyway?! You, who’s never fought for anything in your blasted life! You going to try and stop me?”
A painful silence settled over the two of them as Arlette realized what she’d just said. Sofie slowly stood up and turned towards the stairs. “I’m going to go check on Pari,” she said softly.
“Sofie, look, I’m-”
“You’re going to do whatever it is you do, and you’re right. I can’t stop you. I just hope you’re not about to do something you can’t take back.” She ascended the stairs, leaving Arlette alone to stew in her anger and regret.
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Arlette crouched outside the repurposed inn that served as the Band of the Silent Tower’s headquarters, making herself as small as possible to keep her body within the confines of the illusory barrel she’d created a few paces from their front door. Getting close to where they were staying hadn’t been much of a challenge, which she’d found odd at first. Sebastian was always meticulous and always made sure to cover all the details, so she’d been expecting a tight perimeter around the place. But on second thought, if he and his minions were posing as a normal mercenary group then they’d be acting the part as well, which meant no real guards and lots of drunken noise from within. This was, after all, friendly territory. Now all she had to do was wait.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Arlette couldn’t deny that Sofie had a point. Arlette had only seen the leader of the mercenary band from afar. So she’d decided to gather a little bit more information by getting near and inspecting him up close before making any rash decisions. It wouldn’t cost her anything, and as soon as she was sure, she would strike. Straining her hearing, she tried to make out some of the conversations inside.
“-tell ya, she’s into me. I could see how she was-”
“-saying that I’m getting tired of it. I want meat! I can’t wait until we’re back in-”
“-the preparations are nearly done. They’re never going to see it coming. It’ll be perfect, I assure you.”
Arlette’s blood ran cold as the significance of that last conversation hit her. She’d been right! There was something going on! He had to be in that building!
Just as she was about to creep closer, a group of ten or so mercenaries exited the inn. Arlette froze, her eyes locked on to one specific man. He stood tall, with broad shoulders and a full, strong body, all of which was covered in armor, including his head. His helmet was the same one that she’d seen from afar, complete with a face mask that looked like it could be rotated upwards to reveal the face if needed. Now that she could see him up close, she knew it was him. This wasn’t like those other two mercenaries. The way he walked, the way he stood, it was just like she remembered. She grinned. Even under all that metal, Sebastian couldn’t hide from her. Now she just had to wait for the right time to act.
The group walked towards her as several members talked about something involving somebody she didn’t know, laughing as if drunk. Arlette wasn’t going to be fooled. Not this time. Then they stopped right beside her. She could hardly believe her luck. The man who embodied all her hatred, her fear, and her pain stood just a pace away from her. Slowly and silently she drew out a dagger and started looking about his armor for the best place to strike. Now crouching on the balls of her feet, her body ready to pounce, she readied herself to avenge her home, her family, her country, her everything.
Then, without warning, Sebastian leaned against the barrel... and fell right through.
Arlette was nearly as caught off guard as Sebastian was. Quickly she sprang up as the man fell on top of her, barely managing to avoid being pinned underneath him. Instead, all she managed to do was catch him wrapping her free left arm around his neck, ignoring the screaming agony coming from her shoulder as she leveraged it to keep him off balance but still upright. A moment ago she’d been planning on stabbing him in the armpit where there was a seam in his armor, but with their new positions that was no longer possible, so she went for Plan B: stab him in the face. A lot.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance!” she hissed as she flipped up the face mask. The sight beneath made her pause. Burn scars—lots of them, all over the man’s face—and a lock of curly pink hair.
Sebastian didn’t have pink hair.
Arlette’s mind slowed to a crawl when presented this new information, her dagger hovering just a finger’s width from the man’s face. She’d been so sure this time, so certain in her conclusions, but she’d been wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. What if she was wrong about all of it? What if Sebastian wasn’t even here? What if she’d been-
A metal elbow struck her in the side of her head, and everything went dark.
----------------------------------------
Cold water smacked her in the face, dragging her from the darkness with a gasp. Reflexively she tried to move and found that she could not. Her shoulder hurt, and her head hurt even more. What was going on?
Just as she asked herself that question, the memory of her last waking moments came back to her and she groaned. She’d been a fool. A complete and total fool. And now she was about to pay the price.
She sat in a solid wooden chair, her hands bound by tucrenyx manacles to the back of the chair while more shackles locked her legs and ankles to the chair’s legs. The light of day lit room, the sun’s morning rays flooding in through a nearby window. She must have been out all night. She could see the wall far off in the distance, meaning that she was almost definitely somewhere in the citadel, the heart of the city.
Some part of her in the back of her mind remarked that she’d missed the start of her shift.
“Finally back with us, Demirt?” A voice drew Arlette’s attention back to the room, and to the people in it. Arlette looked up and saw that there were multiple other people there, including two that she recognized. One was the man she’d almost killed, his visor back down over his face. The other was the speaker, Supreme General Erizio Astalaria himself.
Arlette groaned inside her head when she realized he was there. Erizio Astalaria was the last person in Crirada she'd wanted to meet—brilliant and powerful, but as past experience had made clear to her, also a total asshole. The general stepped forward and stood directly in front of her, looking down at her with his trademark scowl and what seemed to be... triumph? “I must admit, it feels good to be proven right, even all these years later.”
“I’m still not an Ubran, dipshit,” Arlette spat back. “Twenty years and you still won’t admit you were wrong.”
With one swift, fluid motion, Erizio Astalaria brought his hand around from behind his back and smacked her hard across the face. “That’s Supreme General Dipshit to you.”
“Do you two know each other or something?” the masked mercenary leader asked. Arlette winced at his voice. It was low, even lower than Sebastian’s and lacked his smoothness. If he’d only spoken in front of her last night, she would never have made such a mistake. But he hadn’t, and now here she was.
“Arlette and I have a small bit of history together, you might say,” the general replied, his voice taking on an almost professorial quality as he began to recite. “Years ago, during the Ubran’s conquest of Ofrax, I was serving as a commander at Redwater Castle. Needless to say, the news of the Ubran invasion had the entire fortress on maximum alert. Then, just a few days later, a single solitary girl appeared, climbing the mountain path to the fortress while wearing a gown, of all things. Hardly the proper attire in which to climb through the snow that surrounds the fortress. I happened to be in command of the wall at that time. Though the outfit was filthy and tattered, I recognized it as the colors of Ofrax’s royal family.”
“Your men shot arrows at me,” Arlette interjected, sourly.
“The child had long blond hair, and a delicate face,” Erizio continued, ignoring Arlette’s comment. “To anybody familiar with the Kingdom of Ofrax, such as I, it was obvious from first glance that this was their nation’s princess, the most well-loved and admired member of the entire royal family. Somehow, I surmised, she must have escaped the invasion and made her way here. The lack of attendants and the state of her clothes said much about the hardships of her flight. Of course, I immediately ordered that the princess be let in. But before my men could exit the gates and escort her the last few paces, she collapsed. It was then that I saw a very curious thing. The color of her hair, the shade of her skin, the shape of her face, all of it changed. That was when I realized that this was no princess. This was an Ubran trick.”
Arlette sighed. “Here we go again,” she mumbled.
“As you surely know by now, the Ubrans are a duplicitous bunch. During the time I was stationed at the fortress, they tried to sneak agents by us on many occasions, usually posing as merchants from Ofrax or the Droajan Confederation. They wanted nothing more than to worm their way into Nocend and undermine our great nations. This time, it was plain as day that they had spotted an opportunity to sneak in a false princess. As perhaps the last living member of the Ofrax royal line, this fake would have access to far more influence and power than a mere merchant. Of course, things had obviously not gone entirely to plan. Likely the Ubrans had underestimated the toll climbing the path to Redwater Castle takes on everybody, and so their initial plot failed.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“When the girl woke up, she barely spoke and acted terrified of everybody. All anybody could manage to get out of her was a claim that she was being chased by somebody. She refused to say why she was wearing the princess’s clothes or how she had acquired them. This was obviously a ploy to save herself. By playing the weak, frightened little child, she could engender sympathy and acceptance.”
“I was eight!”
“I recommended that the girl be executed as an Ubran spy, but my superiors lacked my insight. They did not have it in them to kill a child. Instead, a soldier offered to take the girl in. He and his wife had been trying to have a child for over a decade with no success and he was desperate.”
“You told him not to adopt me.”
“The others mocked me, said I was paranoid. But time, as always, has shown me to be correct. My suspicions were confirmed the moment you destroyed Zrukhora and-”
“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Arlette hollered, finally cutting off the insufferable man’s gloating. “You’ve been clinging to this shit for years! I’m not an Ubran! I didn’t destroy Zrukhora! I’m on your side, jackass! Get it through your fucking head!”
The general struck her across the face a second time. Her mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. “It seems you haven’t realized your situation. You do not get to make demands, only answer my questions. If I am satisfied, you may even keep your life.”
Arlette spat the blood in her mouth onto the floor and glared furiously at the man in front of her. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She had no leverage here. Even if she were to lie, it would likely not accomplish anything other than shortening what little remained of her life. Not that she expected the man to change his mind, but at least she wouldn’t die a liar and a fraud. “Ask then,” she said reluctantly.
“What the are Ubrans’ plans to sabotage us?”
“I don’t know, I’m not an Ubran.”
A third strike across the mouth. Arlette felt one of her canines become loose and grimaced.
“Lies. If you are not Ubran, then why are you even here? You have no obligation towards us, and yet you were posing as a guard by a different name even before the Ubran invasion began.”
“I’m here to kill somebody. His name is Sebastian Cunningham.”
Erizio chuckled derisively. “Sebastian? The same man you claimed was chasing you as a child?”
“Yes! He’s the one you should be concerned about. He is everything that you believe me to be. I need to kill him no matter what.”
“And what makes you so sure that he’s here?”
“Because as much as you’re wrong about me, you’re right about the Ubrans. They’re schemers. They always have a backup plan. They’ve had so much time to plan for this, after all. Let me ask you this: what happened to the ‘monster’ that so easily conquered all of Gustil?”
“My best two generals sacrificed their lives to slay her so that we might stand a chance here,” Erizio said with a frown. “It seems that they succeeded.”
“So that person was their first plan, but the Ubrans are not stupid. They would never put all of their hopes on a single person. So they would obviously have a backup plan. That plan is Sebastian. He’s the man who brought down all of Ofrax in a single day, and he’ll do it again if you don’t stop him. I was there. I saw it firsthand.”
“As the princess?” came the mocking jab.
“Yes.”
The general paused for a second, her answer putting him off balance. “So you now claim to be the princess after all? Surely you can’t expect me to believe that you are of royal blood. You don’t have the right features to even pretend to be their child.”
“I am not saying that I am the daughter of the King and Queen of Ofrax. What I am saying is that I was the princess of Ofrax. There is a difference.” Seeing the utter incomprehension on his face, she sighed. It looked like she’d have to explain everything from the beginning. “Sit down. What I am about to tell you I have never told anybody before, and it’s going to take a little while.”
Arlette leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she thought back to a period of her life that she’d always tried to forget, the part of her life she always tried to pretend had never happened.
“What I’m about to tell you was the greatest secret of Ofrax’s royal family—no, the greatest secret in the entire nation..."