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Dances.Ch05

Dances.Ch05

The Sergeant uniform is hidden in a bush nearby, but I can’t use it to get out if I’m being followed. The wall is only three meters high, I could jump up to it if I overcharge a lion’s step. I hesitate and decide to assemble a lightning construct.

My four pursuers arrive from different directions, three of them are wearing servant’s outfits and carrying swords in their hands but no scabbards. Two women and a man. The last one is a dozen meters behind, a soldier wearing black clothing and holding a long-sword.

Fuck. I was naive, I hadn’t thought that some would want to take me out regardless of the truce. I activate the first portion of the construct to charge the air along the path between me and them, feeling my hair start floating.

Celyz didn’t do it like this, she controlled the segments individually instead of letting her construct do it, the expertise necessary to do that is staggering.

“Traitor, prepare to face the consequence of your actions.” One of the servants speaks up.

I ignore him, injecting more flow into the construct. The soldier dressed in black is looking at the top of my hair, taking a different route to close in on me. I target the three servants despite feeling that the man in black is the larger threat. I can’t fight four at once.

“One more step and I’ll fry you where you stand, this is a Rykz fire construct.” I threaten while making the lightning construct float over my right hand.

All four of them stop, hesitating but not for long. I can tell that they’re assembling constructs by how their eyes are fixated on me while their left hands make odd writhing movements.

I squint my eyes and activate the lightning construct, unwilling to give them time to prepare. A large bolt of white light flashes forward, branching in three and leaving an odd acrid odor behind itself.

One of the servants manages to let go of his sword just before it hits his sword but the bolt jumps from the weapon to his close by hand, shocking him along with the other two. They start convulsing but I don’t have time to check whether they’re incapacitated or not as the soldier charges me.

I hurriedly step backward, buying time to focus myself on the skin hardening construct. He is faster than I am and has a long reach but his first strike still swipes the air in front of me.

“Don’t you care about the truce?” I ask, surveying his footwork.

“I have my orders, Lady Vil.” The man replies quietly, throwing a quick slash towards my mask.

I leap to the side and avoid it, assembling a lion’s step over my left leg. I hear the muffled sound of two bodies hitting the ground. I move towards the edge of the garden and the wall.

The soldier follows me, his sword is starting to glow golden, spreading from the runes on the pommel. What is this? I have no time to carefully consider my options as the man rushes me, trying to stab me with it.

Shit, I can’t dodge. I activate the skin hardening construct and slap it away with my left hand, deactivating it immediately. I grit my teeth because I expect the glowing blade to have an effect, surprised when it doesn’t.

I can’t get hit by this, if it doesn’t activate on simple contact then it likely will if it penetrates flesh. I keep moving towards the low-wall, assembling another lion’s step construct for my other leg. The soldier is taking a lion strike slashing stance, it gives me time to breathe.

“I wonder what your blood will look like on my glove.” I utter in a dark tone of voice.

The man wearing black flinches, unable to help himself from gazing at my left limb. I use the opening, activating both lion’s step constructs to rush forward, he throws his lion strike. He reacts too late to land it but his elbow hits my left shoulder, dead on the fracture, the pain is so intense that it makes me flinch and I crash into the soldier instead of tackling him.

I push through the agony and use my left hand to seize his right wrist, rendering him incapable of using the glowing sword. We struggle for a little while, his other hand fending the punches I throw with my right.

“Fucking…” I bring my head back and smash it in his face. “…didn‘t want to taint this mask!” I utter as his nose cracks.

I headbutt him a few more times for good measure, stopping when his jaw just drops and stays open, hanging. I steal his glowing sword, glancing around.

The servant that let go of his sword is trying to wake the other two, apparently unwilling to face me alone. I approach the wall and bring my arm back to stab the wall. Shrrr. The blade’s point shears into the stone, penetrating the rock almost as easily as it would loose soil, baffling me.

I try to pull it out but it seems stuck and it isn’t glowing anymore. Fuck, that would have been dangerous if I tried to block it head-on with my left limb. I back-step to take some distance and prepare myself to jump.

I keep my hearing sharp in case the servant decides to mess with me. Reassured, I quickly assemble four lion’s step constructs, I then fine-tune the segment ratios to reinforce my bones and ligaments enough that the strengthened muscles won’t damage them.

I focus myself, launching forward as I activate the first two lion’s steps in succession to both pick up speed and jump, using the sword as a stepping platform. I immediately activate the last two constructs and project my body straight upward.

The momentum is enough to almost reach the top of the three-meter tall low-wall, I use my left limb to grip the edge. My chest hits the stone, cutting my breath short. I lift myself up on the wall without wasting time recovering.

Down in the street, there are three dozen soldiers patrolling. That’s way too many. I crouch, hiding behind the battlement. I can’t stay here too long, these servants could alert these soldiers at any moment.

I advance along the wall, keeping to my low profile as I look for a window between patrols. I check my flow reserves, about half left. That should be enough. I assemble lion’s steps, preparing to jump down.

A minute later, I find an opening as two groups pass by each other while a third is still turning the corner. I hop over the wall, activating two constructs to absorb the landing, not even pausing to handle the shock of hitting the ground before I pounce forward into a full sprint towards a side street.

“Hey, you! Stop!” A soldier yells at me from behind.

I hear a sound similar to one that an arrow would make, except louder. My left limb suddenly moves by itself, making a quick and wide swipe behind my back. I feel something impact its skin, not a blade but a blunt shock.

Thuck. I stumble to the side a little, losing my balance because of the sudden movement and the collision. There is a spear embed into the wooden front of a building in front of me, my limb deviated the projectile’s course by itself.

I engage into the alley, quickly burning through my flow reserves as I pick up speed. Focused on my movements. There are soldiers pursuing me but I’m leaving them behind. I make many turns along the alleys, using the darkness of night to my advantage, slowing down after a while to make less noise.

Once I stop hearing steps behind me, I stop using constructs and head east towards the docks until I find the main street that I took earlier. Retracing the route I took to find the Tavern.

Its front door is closed and I find out that it is also locked when I try to push it open. I make my way around the building until I find my window and use the wooden beams emerging out of the wall to climb up to it.

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I pull the flaps open and slip into my room. I crash on top of my mattress, feeling the small bumps of my equipment under it, I take my mask off and wiggle until I find a comfortable position. That was dangerous and reckless.

My Lady’s blushing face as we swirled through the roses…

“Totally worth the dance.” I smile, closing my eyes.

— — —

I wake up to the midmorning’s bright sun, feeling a familiar pit of hunger in my stomach. I get dressed up in long brown simple clothes that I find in the chest and make my way downstairs. There aren’t many people in the main room, the buzz of their conversations is comforting to my ears after several days alone on the road.

Alana is standing behind the counter, her large frame is even more impressive in the morning’s light. She turns to me, signaling to follow her with a hand. I frown, a little worried as she guides me towards the back door.

Outside, there is a small courtyard surrounded by the rest of the block’s buildings, with a stone shed in the very middle and a barrel of water standing next to its door.

“You can clean up here but don’t use too much water.” She tells me.

“Thanks.” I nod.

“A patrol of soldiers showed up at my door early this morning.” Alana says in a neutral tone of voice.

“Oh? What did they want?” I ask, trying to sound curious rather than alarmed.

“They were searching for a woman with a hammer just like yours.” She replies flatly.

“I’m surprised, I got into trouble with a Noble but the lieutenant said he would handle it.” I lie.

“You should have told me that.” The aging woman shakes her head with a sigh, making her graying hair flutter around. “Get to the red district and find a brothel named ‘Cecil’s’, the Madame there might be able to help you deflect attention.”

“I, thank you.” I blink a few times, surprised that she isn’t kicking me out of her tavern.

“Least I can do when I see a warrior like you get in trouble because the Nobles don’t have their priorities straight. There is a rumor floating around that Nobility caused the war, provoking these creatures from afar, gambling that they couldn’t touch Caeviel.” Alana sighs again. “You should be careful, there may be turmoil in the streets if this gains traction.”

“I’ll take care.” I give her a smile. “I apologize for the soldiers showing up, thank you for letting me stay.”

“Don’t make trouble, no one around here is about to rat someone out to the guards but I will if you mess with my business.” She threatens me with her index. “I’ll have a plate ready for you when you’re done.” Alana turns around to walk back into her tavern.

“Make it a triple portion! I’ll pay extra!” I call out to her back.

She shrugs and closes the door behind herself. I open the stone shed’s door, picking up the bucket inside using the barrel’s water to fill the copper basin inside. I wash up, cleaning away the traveling dust that accumulated on the road.

I blush a little at the thought of going to a brothel to meet this woman Alana just told me about. It sounds like the Madame is either well-connected or has information that can help me find a starting point, an angle to attack Nobility with.

I dress back up and head inside the tavern, sitting at the counter in front of the steaming large plate of gruel stew that Alana left there. I deposit a silver on the counter and get started on devouring the food.

There is a majority of peasants in the room, they are dressed too shabbily to be able to afford living here all year and they seem destitute, without anywhere else to go. The truce saved lives but I fear that it may last longer than the common person’s resources can withstand.

If the war lasts all the way through winter, people will run out of money and they’ll start starving. With the general climate, it may cause riots and a bloody response from Nobility. There just isn’t enough to do in Meria for all the refugees to make a living, the army won’t lack volunteers if the situation drags on.

Makes it even stupider to forcefully conscript now that I think about it, peasants will have no other choice but to join whether they like it or not after a while.

There may be other reasons, like training those they forcefully enroll early, but I would be surprised if that were the case. The battle showed me how little training peasants are given as they were barely able to even form ranks.

I push my plate away, content and rubbing my slightly swollen belly. Alana walks back behind the counter and picks up the silver coin I left for her.

“Where can I find the red district?” I ask, blushing.

“South-west, in the shadier part of town, as far away from the Duke Meria’s castle and the Order’s Temple as possible.” She replies, smirking.

I get up and make my way outside, making sure that my purse is hanging inside my pants and not outside within reach of wandering hands. I meld into the crowd, following the directions Alana gave me.

The street that I’m following narrows and the crowd thins until I am progressing through an empty alley, the structures on either side of it are in need of maintenance. There are holes in the walls, missing planks, and broken floor.

I keep going forward, feeling somewhat nervous as I spot several pairs of eyes following me. They look shady, not their clothes who are innocuous enough, but their suspicious expressions, how they stand or sit without moving, some even take hold of their dagger’s handle as I walk past them.

The red district itself is recognizable at first sight because of the red colored establishments. The paint on the facade of the brother named ‘Cecil’s’ is eroding in small flakes.

It’s quiet, there is almost no one in the area. Not surprising in the morning. I make my way inside, there are men and women in frivolous clothing cleaning up the remnants of a party in the main room, picking up shredded clothes and various pieces of underwear from the ground.

I pause for a long moment, blushing. I hurriedly walk up to the most clothed person in the room, a young blond man wearing a long black shirt and tight leather pants.

“I was told that the Madame could help me.” I speak up, deciding to breach the subject immediately so I can get going.

“All the way up the stairs.” The man tells me while stuffing a shirt drenched by water inside a bag.

I nod in thanks and make my way upstairs, skipping steps until I reach the second floor. I slow down a little, my embarrassment fading away now that I don’t have to avoid looking at their bodies because of how much the clothes revealed.

I reach the top floor, finding a door with a plate named ‘Madame Cecil’ nailed on it. I take a deep breath and knock softly on the wood. I hear someone get up from a chair inside, their light steps approaching.

The door open, a mature woman of about twice my age and a head taller is standing there, her face’s traits are elegant, she has eyes and hair of a deep black color. I stand quietly, lost as to how to break the ice.

“Hello.” She speaks up in a deep voice. “I’m Madame Cecil.” She adds, as I fail to react.

“Sorry. I’m Jes, zebel.” I reply, remembering to change my name mid-way through it.

“What can I do for you, Jezebel?” Madame Cecil asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I was sent by Alana, she told me that you could help. I have some… problems with a Noble.” I reply, thinking up a story to give her.

“Alana… Ah, Alana, she owns a tavern. Come on in.” She smiles, moving aside to let me enter.

I step inside, the room takes the entire floor, it is a picture of debauchery. There are three unmade beds and a dozen shelves filled with various items. Some I recognize as whips, but oddly shaped and too short to be used in husbandry, others are polished metal rods which I cannot figure the use of and silk ropes.

What does she do with all that? I shake my mind off the question and focus on figuring out what lie I’ll use. I make my way to the desk at the back of the room and sit in the guest chair. Madame Cecil steps around and sits in her armchair, gazing at me curiously. I notice as her eyes wander towards my left arm, more specifically towards the end of the sleeve dissimulating my bloody glove.

“I ran into some issues with Lord Patrick, son of a Count but I don’t know which.” I speak up without delay to distract her from asking about what I’m hiding.

“Lord Patrick, son of Count Thrin? An insufferable little twerp who thinks he was born with a destiny to rule others, thinks his farts smell of roses?” Madame Cecil asks with iron in her voice, without hiding her contempt.

“That’s him.” I nod with an amused smile. “He has something of a grudge against a friend of mine and I am somewhat caught in the middle.”

“What kind of help do you think I can give you?” She asks, with curiosity.

“I’m not sure but my hope was that you could send a messenger to her father and tell him to leave the Izla. The problem is that he’s in the western part of the Izla, under Rykz control.” I explain.

“I might be able to find someone who would be willing to, there have been many who crossed into Rykz held land and came back. But it will cost you.” Madame Cecil says tapping her desk thoughtfully. “Although I might make a small exception on the price just because I dislike the twerp.”

“How much are we talking about?” I ask nervously.

“Twenty-five silvers.” She replies regretfully. “It is the best I can do.” She adds, apparently thinking that I would negotiate or be unable to pay.

“I’ll agree to that price.” I’ll have almost no money left, just enough to last a week or so. “Do you have a pen and paper?” I ask.

“I do.” Madame Cecil takes a quill and a piece of old parchment out.

I take the twenty-five silvers out of my pouch and leave them on her desk before giving her the directions to our village and the location of our house on the outskirts. I dictate a message to be given to my father, saying that his daughter is currently healthy and doing well, that he should depart for Tyrian and lodge with his son.

“She isn’t really doing well, is she?” Madame Cecil asks once she finishes writing the letter, a dark and worried expression on her face.

“I don’t know what crossed your mind, Madame Cecil, but she isn’t doing too badly at the moment.” I reply honestly.

“That’s reassuring, I’ve seen many lives ruined by Nobility so sometimes I jump to conclusions and assume the worst.” She makes a thin smile, folding the letter and laying it to the side. Her eyes look up and find mine, her expression turns from agreeable to steely within seconds. “Now tell me, Elizabeth Vil, what are you really here for?”