Cassandra Bright, Royal Princess of the Empire, and in her opinion. The smartest person for miles around. She wouldn’t say she was the smartest in the world, just very close to. The farmer in front of her on the other hand…

“Yes m’lady.” the mangy, smelly, sunburnt peasant bowed his head happily, “wes be happy to shelta yous.”

“You are very kind Mr?”

“Tha name’s Brown m’lady, Jim Brown.” he stuck his dirt and muck-covered hand out. Crinkling her nose, she shook it.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brown, you have my word that you shall be properly compensated for your troubles.”

He scratched the back of his head, “Yous funny words befuddle me. Wes a simple folk, wes use the simple talk.”

She sighed and rummaged through her bag, looking for her wallet, “in that case I believe I once heard Noah say, ‘money talks.’” she said and tossed four silver coins to him. His eyes widened in shock.

“M’lady, this is too much!”

She scoffed, “nonsense, a fair day's wage for most places.” In reality, it was nowhere near a day's pay for anyone except landed knights, mages, and incredibly high skilled workers. The average farmer in the middle and northern fiefs made less than a silver a week. Those in the south made far more but paid much higher taxes to compensate as they owned the land they worked.

The grimmy peasant dropped to his knees, “thank you, m'lady, yous to kind.”

“You are welcome.” she turned around, “now if you would help us with our bags, it seems our guardian has passed out.” she sighed, “again.”

As she walked back to the carriage that they had rented, Arya waved to her, “we got a place to stay?”

She nodded, “I got us a place to stay the night, you stayed in the carriage playing cards.”

Arya grinned, “at least I’m still awake,” she turned to her left where Val lay slumped over the other seat snoring softly, her book over her face.

“Do you ever wonder what she’s reading?” Cassie asked curiously, “Her and that book of hers, I’ve never seen it out of reach since she bought it.”

“Eh, beats me. I tried reading the title but that definitely isn’t in standard. I couldn’t make sense of a single letter.”

“So no different from any other book?” she asked with a slight smile. Arya snorted and lifted a finger.

“Tch, you and your mouth.” she grunted, “whatever, let's get this thing moving. Where are Illia and the old man?”

“Illia’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Cassie demanded, “gone where?”

She shrugged, “How would I know?”

“Because you were in the carriage with her when I left!” she gritted her teeth, pupils turning red. Arya’s expression quickly went from carefree to slightly panicked.

“Hey now, you know just as well as I do that she just disappears sometimes. The only one of us here that might be able to follow her is asleep right now so don’t be getting mad at me. Honestly, I don’t see what you’re so mad about in the first place.”

“Excuse me if I’m mildly infuriated right now!” she snapped, “I’ve not had the easiest of weeks.”

Arya waved a hand, “C’mon, it hasn’t been that bad.”

“It hasn’t been that bad for you.” she retorted, “that’s because I’ve done all the work!”

“That’s not-” she started weakly, but Cassie’s rant was just starting.

“NO, you are going to sit and listen. It’s the least you can do after all I’ve done for this team.” she glowered at the white-haired girl who remained silent. “Good.”

“I’m sick and tired of having to deal with all of this by myself. Our first mission, we’re stuck with Patch. Port Patch! Who names their child that? One of our teammates is practically in a coma. Another disappears at random to who knows where. I’m tired, my knees hurt from all this walking, I haven’t slept on a real bed in weeks. We have to deal with Patch’s insistent asinine storytelling for days on end, and there is no one to have decent conversation with.”

Arya snapped her fingers, “ah so this is what this is about.”

“What?” Cassie snapped.

She grinned, “you miss your boy toy.”

“Ryze is not my ‘boy toy’ as you so crudely put it.”

Her grin widened to shit-eating proportions, “I don’t remember ever saying anything about Varus now did I?”

Cassie’s eyes shifted to a greyish purple hue as she huffed, “whatever, get Val up and help me move our luggage out of the back.” and walked off.

Arya sighed and leaned over to slap the magician over the face. As her hand went into the air Val opened one eye and said, “Arya, touch me and I’ll have you flying through the air in the nude.”

The hand slowly lowered to the seat and she asked, “so does that mean you heard Cassie?”

“Yep.” she said and turned to face the other direction, “doesn’t mean I’ve got to listen to her. I’m going back to sleep.”

“C’mon, you’ll make it so much easier.”

“How? I am literally the smallest person on our team. If anything, you should be the one working.”

“You’re a magician dumbass! You could do all the work in an instant!” Arya shouted in frustration.

“That’s not how magic works!” Val shouted back, “it would be like I did all the work manually, just in an instant.”

“Can’t you just use the energy you had stored up in those gems?”

She shook her head, “no way, that is saved for an emergency.”

“An angry Cassie is an emergency!” she hissed, “you remember that time two years ago?”

Val paused for a few moments, considering her options before letting out an explosive sigh. She sat up and opened her book. Taking in a deep breath, she literally breathed in some of the considerable energy stored inside. Normally it would be impossible to place so much energy into something as impure as a book. This was why imbuing gemstones with it was standard as they could store much larger amounts. However, Val’s trait allowed her to store as much energy as she wanted into whatever she wanted. The misty power rose from the paper like a glowing white fog.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

The carriage began to rise as all five suitcases full of luggage floated through the air and into the small house. At the sight of it, all four of the house's residences dropped to their knees and began praying.

“What is going on out here?” Cassie demanded, walking out of the front door. She eyed the peasants prostrated on the ground in front of her, “What are you doing on the ground, get up you mongrels!”

“Wes in the presence of God!” they declared, bowing and scraping to the floating suitcases.

Cassie rubbed the bridge of her nose, “you understand what presence means but can’t comprehend what compensate means?”

With all their equipment and spare clothes stored safely in one of the relatively cleaner rooms, they sat around what one could consider a porch. It was closer to a fireplace with a couple of logs around it than a porch. But it was raised several feet off the ground so that, as the ancient-looking grandma had put it, “The giant spiders don’t bite your toes off.”

Cassie watched as several dozen laborers worked the fields. Mostly men of twenty or so years worked shirtless. Their skins the color of beat copper under the blazing sun.

“Enjoying the sight?” Arya grinned as she plopped down next to her, a cup firmly in her grasp. She caught a whiff of it and cocked an eyebrow.

“Vodka? So early in the day?”

Arya shrugged, “It’s all they had, and don’t change the subject.”

She opened her mouth to respond when Illia appeared next to them with a pop. Arya flinched with a full mouth of the strong-smelling spirit. She started coughing violently as Illia began talking animatedly.

“-so much space! I’ve never seen fields this big before. There’s so much you’d almost think that the world is flat.” she was cut off as Val appeared next to her wearing a slightly annoyed, slightly amused expression.

“But the world is not flat, and you need to calm down.”

“Delightful!” Cassie exclaimed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “our honored guest has decided to grace us with her attention. It is truly a wonderful day indeed!”

Illia turned towards her, head tilted to the side. “I hear a hint of something odd in your voice.”

“Really?” she asked, “I wonder what it could be.”

“Are you sick?” the elf asked, a voice full of concern.

“Sick?” Cassie laughed, the same laugh she used when making polite conversation with the fat old men who tried to have her betrothed to their grandchildren. “Well, not in the traditional sense, no. But sick of a four-foot-nothing child randomly deciding to disappear for no good reason! Yes, I am, how could you tell?”

Illia looked confused, “I could not tell. That is why I asked, I was merely concerned for your well-being.”

The otter two girls stifled a laugh as Cassie looked about ready to explode. Her eyes turned a molten red and the air around them seemed to chill by several degrees.

“Ah.” Illia nodded to herself, “it seems you were being sarcastic.”

Val sighed, “you don’t say?”

Dinner was incredibly depressing and unsatisfactory in Cassandra’s highly informed opinion. Stale bread and moldy cheese washed down with a thin soup made from potatoes, carrots, and minuscule amounts of what she hoped were beef. By the time they had finished eating, the laborers had left and the sun had set on the grassy plain.

The four girls sat around a surprisingly well-crafted table sipping tea with the Brown family. Prof. Patch had long since passed out in the barn where he was staying.

“So Jim was it?” Arya asked, the man nodded, “how do you like living in the midlands?”

He looked around nervously at the young nobles, “Is a good ‘ife, is hard but good. Sometime ain’t ‘nuff ta eat, ba tha ain’t no one fault ba wes. Long as O taxes paid, tha lord don’ cause wes no trouble.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed; years of experience in the royal courts of Byrum had given her an acute sense of lie detecting.

“Oh?” she asked, “And who is the one who owns these lands?”

Mrs. Brown spoke up, “Lord Winchester, m’lady, James Winchester.”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, of tall stature, and light complexion?” Cassie asked, the blank stares she received from the farmers told her all she needed to know. She sighed, “Big and white?”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“I heard he’s got a nasty temper.” Arya said flippantly, “lazy as all hell too.”

The four commoners remained silent. Speaking out against one’s lord was a capital offense. Losing tongues or testicles were not uncommon in most of the empire. With the only exception being in Varus. But the fact that they did not speak up in the defence of their lord spoke volumes.

“Tell me honestly,” she stared into the dirty man’s eyes, “what do you think of your lord?”

He glanced away, hesitating before he opened his mouth, “I’ll have you know, it’s a crime to lie to royalty. So speak the truth.”

“M’lady, wes ain’ ‘posed ta talk bad ‘bout wes lord.” he protested.

“If he was a good lord, then there would be too bad to talk about.” Cassandra said irritably, “so out with it. I grow tired of waiting.”

The poor man looked around nervously, “Well, somethings been killin’ ma cattle.”

Val cocked an eyebrow, “Ok, and?”

A lot of things could kill livestock, demons, bandits, parasites, and even wolves could take them down with relative ease.

“And lord ain’ doin shit ‘bout it. Three bulls’ve died in past two moons. If it keeps happening, wes not gonna have cattle no more.”

Cassie looked skeptical. Even to a lord, cattle were expensive. Not many in the countryside were rich enough to just sit back and allow them to die, “have you asked Lord Winchester for help?”

“Yes M’lady, we begged for him to spare a guard to watch over our fields. But the man never arrived. We dare not ask again.”

“Why not?” Val asked.

“It would be disrespectful of us to accuse the lord of negligence.” The intonation in her voice stated that she meant, “unwise” rather than disrespectful.

“If that is the case, then perhaps it would be better if we asked in your stead,” Cassandra said looking at her teammates. They nodded in agreement, Patch would agree with their decision once they told him in the morning. That they were sure of.

/-/

After dinner, I sparred with Kevin. He wasn’t great, definitely not anything to write home about. But he probably would have been able to hold his own against most people. But being the incredibly kind person that I was, I decided to help him out a little.

I rapped his knuckles with the blunt training sword, “Tch, eyes on the sword in front of you bud. There’s no point in staring anywhere else but at the person, you're fighting.”

“That’s not what the swordmaster said.'' he rubbed his bruised knuckles, “he told me to keep an eye out on my surroundings and to watch for other attackers.”

I shook my head, “another attacker won’t matter if I cleave your head open before they even reach you.” he paused to ponder that. I sighed and recalled a lesson my uncle had given me some years ago. “Look, you’re a noble right?” he nodded, “that means you’ve got guards.”

“I do.”

“It’s their job to keep anyone else away from your flanks. You just need to worry about taking out the person in front of you. Hell, the most combat you’ll probably ever see will be the rare bandit attack or duel.” he nodded in what I hoped was understanding.

“Right, again,” I said and raised the training sword. He mirrored my action, placing both hands on his sword held slightly before him. My eyes went to his feet which were painfully straight. Shaking my head, I decided to make a point.

I dashed at him, swinging far more wildly and forcefully than I otherwise would have. He backed up in a panic as I kept on driving forwards, throwing him out of position and off-balance. Within a few heartbeats, I was right up in his face. Dropping a shoulder I slammed into him, sending him flying.

He hit the ground with a wheeze, sword clattering out of his hand and out of reach. I sighed for the second time, “What did I say about locking your legs?”

“Not to,” he grunted.

“And what did you do?”

He glared at me, “locked my legs.”

“Correct, now grab your sword,” I said. He looked around for his sword and tried to get up. I placed a boot on his chest and kept him on the ground, “no, I never said you could stand.”

“Well then how am I going to grab my sword?” he asked.

I shrugged, “beats me, I just wouldn’t have dropped it in the first place. Now grab your sword.”

He tried to push himself off the ground but I leaned into my foot, pinning him firmly to it, “next time, don’t let go of your weapon, will you?”

“Fuck you.” he spat and I took my foot off.

“Nah, I’ll leave that to your sister.”