Carolien moved first.
She stepped to the left side, walking like a crab, trying to get the horseman at an angle. But he circled with her in response, putting his side to the carriages and keeping Carolien at his front. Whatever his attitude might have been before the spar, he at least seemed to be treating it seriously. Maybe he simply wanted to avoid being embarrassed.
Carolien stepped a little closer, and the horseman responded by lunging at her. Perhaps he was thinking he did not want to let her be the aggressor. When men fought women, Rosslyn had observed in the past, their primary disadvantage was that they treated the women differently than they might treat men. With an unknown opponent, caution should usually be the order of the day. Once the fighter is confident in a read of the other person’s moves, only then should they be willing to take risks.
Carolien sidestepped the lunge and tapped the horseman on the shoulder with her sword. It was gentle, an almost mocking gesture, but the clash of metal on metal was still loud enough to be heard from the wall, Rosslyn guessed.
The horseman threw himself into another lunge. This forced Carolien backward, off balance, but she pivoted on her left foot to get out of the way.
As Carolien pivoted, the horseman chased her. Throwing slashes and chops at her torso that she seemed to only barely parry each time, he drove her back.
She struck him in the chest with her sword, more forcefully this time. Then he smashed his sword against her helmet. Rosslyn could hear the ringing from the carriage, and she winced at the sound.
It would be disorienting, she knew. Rosslyn had experienced that sort of impact before. If her own past head injuries were at all representative, this would have disturbed Carolien’s inner ear, and she would have trouble keeping her balance after such a blow.
I would have said she was winning until this moment, if we were scoring this match. Yet Rosslyn thought the bout might be nearing its end. The horseman would take advantage of any weakness Carolien showed. It probably will not be a problem, in any case. She has shown that she can move capably. He can have no doubt that she is a bodyguard based on this performance. She does not need to actually defeat him…
But Carolien kept moving, pulled by some force Rosslyn was not certain of.
If anything, she became quicker and more violent—restraining herself less rather than losing control—and the horseman began to cede ground.
He seemed far from giving up, and he continued to land cuts and thrusts on her armor, but the momentum was clearly all on one side. Carolien was landing more strikes than the rider, and she was landing most of them in areas that would have been lethal if not for the armor both combatants wore.
Finally, he blocked a blow aimed at his head, and the ringing from the clash of steel was so loud that Lord Baranack pressed his hands to his ears beside Rosslyn.
“That is enough,” the horseman said loudly in Claustrian. “I believe you are a bodyguard.” He chuckled. “The ambassador should have no problems under your care. Good luck to you in navigating the city. If I may, I will give you some directions before you leave.” He removed his helmet. Carolien was already putting her sword back in its sheath.
“Thank you for an honorable contest, sir,” she said, carefully removing her own helmet, courtly manners back in place instantly.
She has kept up with her training, Rosslyn thought admiringly. All nobles and royals were given some instruction in the art of combat, but in these times of peace, so many allowed their skills to grow dull—which was what Rosslyn would have expected of Carolien. She was almost guaranteed a life free from violence as a king’s consort. My opinion of her continues to rise.
“It was my pleasure to cross blades with you,” the horseman said. Rosslyn noticed for the first time that his Claustrian was a little stilted.
She visually appraised the duelists as they continued talking. Both combatants were slightly sweatier than they had been at the start, Rosslyn noted. She assessed that Carolien was a little less exhausted than the man, but then, he had been sweaty when they started. He was undoubtedly in the middle of a long shift at the wall—probably the reason why he picked a fight, rather than some genuine concern that they might be spies or otherwise different from who they said they were. Neither combatant had used meaningful amounts of Mana, though Carolien would, like Rosslyn, enhance her body with Mana whenever she fought, by reflex.
The knight is probably good, Rosslyn decided. Then she refocused on the conversation.
“May I ask your name, ma’am?” the rider was asking.
“Lady Claudia of Margray,” Carolien said. Rosslyn dimly recognized the territory named as a province of Carolien’s own homeland. A good false identity. She was unlikely to accidentally contradict it. “And your name, sir?”
“Oh, I am called Hauk,” the horseman said. He sounded deflated for some reason. “Just, um, Hauk.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hauk,” Carolien said. She extended her hand, and they shook.
“I would ask how such a beautiful—and noble—lady ends up falling into this line of work, but I believe I promised to tell you how to find your way around the city.” He began describing the layout of the city to Carolien in detail, with gate locations and explanations of the sorts of people who lived in the different strata. Rosslyn noted that he looked and sounded melancholy as he spoke.
But it was the way he gazed at Carolien that told Rosslyn where his mind was. Ah, he was attracted to Carolien and realized when she introduced herself that she was out of his league. Noble women do not often marry those of low birth.
Rosslyn looked at her stepmother with fresh eyes. She was still young and beautiful. In the unlikely event that something were to happen to Rosslyn’s father, it was conceivable that she might remarry.
Rosslyn had to keep her face from twisting into a sour expression at the thought.
Hopefully if something happened to her father in the next few years, she would not have to see what the world would look like without him.
The procession moved through the city briskly once they were allowed through the great gate. Some of the local peasantry looked in at the carriages curiously, but most kept their heads down, eyes to the ground.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The reception was very different from what Rosslyn would expect in her own country. In Claustria, if visiting dignitaries passed through a town, she would expect peasants to crowd around, offering their goods and services, begging for alms, or if the visitor was clergy or royalty, seeking a blessing. When Rosslyn toured the Kingdom as a younger girl, she remembered mobs of people fighting their way forward to kiss the hems of her clothing.
She assessed the different reaction here as a symptom of the heavier hand of the Emperor as compared with the less irksome rule of her father and his allies. The King, and many of those in the other Holy Kingdoms, believed in taxing only so much as was needed to fill the treasury; in enforcing royal and aristocratic rights and privileges as mildly as they could; and in conferring new aristocratic titles only rarely. In prosperous times, even the executioners saw little work, since few people were ready to go to the noose just to acquire a little more for themselves or their families.
In practice, this meant that for the last several decades most people’s encounters with the Royal Family or the aristocracy in Claustria had been relatively benign.
There was little fear in the population of their rulers—or rather, there was only just the correct amount of fear to keep the people in their proper place, and the aristocracy in their seats.
But here things were different.
In the Demon Empire, the flower that sticks out is either plucked to decorate the Emperor’s table or cut down if it offends his eye. Either way, standing out here means death. She resolved to be as inconspicuous as possible when she acted to fulfill her mission. The date of the meeting is in two days, though. We have some time to kill. How should I act until then?
The question was answered for her after their party made it all the way into the innermost circle where the embassy was.
“How would you feel about doing some sightseeing?” Carolien asked as soon as they were in their quarters. “I believe the lord is adequately protected and would not object to our taking the afternoon off. Perhaps tomorrow as well.”
“That sounds like as good a use of our time as any,” Rosslyn said, careful not to show the familial level of familiarity with her stepmother that she would normally display. This was an embassy located in the Demon Empire, so the assumption that they were both acting under was that their conversations were being monitored at all times.
The two women changed into simple dresses intended to visually indicate a middle class merchant background, though if anyone asked, they both understood they were to introduce themselves as bodyguards for the ambassador. Stalenton was known to be a city of spies.
Then they requested leave to see the city from Lord Baranack, who seemed amused to give it to them.
“Yes, I think your services will be unnecessary over the next day or so,” he said, fanning himself with a long peacock feather fan that had come with his chamber. “Feel free to consider yourselves at leisure. I may need your protection in transiting the city a few days from now, but until then, I will try to make myself at home in the quarters our hosts have been so good as to maintain for us.”
Rosslyn almost laughed at his slightly haughty phrasing and body language. She suspected Lord Baranack could get used to being treated with this degree of deference.
If he wanted that, I do not know why he decided to build a career in court life, though. It would be easy enough to enjoy deference from the peasantry if he simply ruled over a small country estate.
But it was probably the asymmetric situation they were currently in that tickled him.
Rosslyn and Carolien spent the day walking through the city. They haggled in the famous Grand Bazaar of Stalenton, a local institution dating back to well before the conquest of the city. They took a pleasant boat ride down the river until they arrived at the Stalenton’s greatest temple to the Goddess, though they found that building had sadly been repurposed to the worship of the Demon God.
The two women briefly entered the building and walked around, but it was unpleasant to look and see the religious statues and other artwork that had been twisted into the worship of the demons’ evil deity. The Goddess was dressed in drag or presented with facial hair in mockery of her feminine beauty, or in some cases she was given a furry lower half with cloven hooves, reflective of one of the images the Demon God was often depicted in. In other images, she was simply presented as her normal self, but with an eerie red background or a knife in her hand, to make her look sinister.
Rosslyn and Carolien left with a bad taste in their mouths.
“They do not mention the perversion of sacred places in our lessons as children,” Carolien said quietly as they stood beside the river. With the river at its high mark, the sound of the running water was just enough to cover the sound of her voice for any listeners who might be lurking just out of sight. She sounded shaken and profoundly sad.
“The most disturbing thing is that it could so easily happen to us, too,” Rosslyn said, similarly keeping her voice. “They have every incentive to take our fertile lands. Enslave our industrious people. It takes so little strength for them to hold what they conquer once they have taken it. And then the gains are theirs to reap forever… Have you looked around at what sorts of people we were sharing the streets with?”
Carolien met Rosslyn’s eyes, then shook her head with a quizzical expression on her face.
“Something like one in four were demons or those with noticeable demon blood,” Rosslyn said. “Assuming that one in four of those with demon blood does not show it, it would still mean that less than one third of the people we have seen in this circle are of demonic heritage. And the succeeding circles, as Hauk said, are each of lower social status and therefore have smaller demon populations successively.”
“You are thinking that the demons maintain control with a small minority of the population?” Carolien asked.
Rosslyn nodded.
“Did you also count all those wearing a slave collar?” Carolien asked. “And those in military and mercenary uniforms?”
Rosslyn frowned. “All of those people would fight for the Empire, that is true… The slaves make up around ten percent of the population, and the warriors for the Empire are a much smaller group. Larger than our share of the population in Claustria who are in active service, but still not large enough to hold control of the city if it should rebel. Well over half of the city is still human.”
“If you factor in the superior power and strength of the demons on an individual level, does that change the calculation?” Carolien replied.
“Yes,” Rosslyn admitted. “For a successful revolt, you would need people coming in from the countryside. That region, I believe, is overwhelmingly human-dominated.”
“Then I suppose we will leave the Empire in place for now after all,” Carolien said. The words were almost humorous, but her voice had a note of melancholy in it as she looked out over the never slowing waters before them.
“I just wish I could find some way to free them,” Rosslyn said.
Her stepmother took her hand, and they walked along the river bank for a time in silence.
The only distraction from the tranquil beauty of the flowing waters was the circulation of people on the streets. The same subdued attitude that Rosslyn had noticed on the way in was present even here. Except for demons, almost no one walked with their heads held high. This was what a society with a tyrannical ruling class looked like.
Everyone who was not among them or their close collaborators wore a harried expression. Fearful, like rabbits.
Many of the fearful wore symbols of the Goddess—statues or other representations—though a minority carried symbols of the Demon God or of less familiar faiths. This was required by law in the Demon Empire.
“Your father achieved what he wanted to by sending me here,” Carolien whispered at long last.
Rosslyn looked at her in surprise.
“Did you suppose we had no discussion of the purpose of this trip?” Carolien asked.
“No,” Rosslyn said. “Not exactly.”
“Well, now I hate the Demon Empire, well and truly,” she said very quietly but almost angrily. “When you and your father make war on the ones who did this, I will support you however I can.”
There was nothing Rosslyn could think to say to Carolien that would not sound cruel in some way at that moment. She just squeezed her stepmother’s hand.
After a little while, they hailed a riverman, and they paid the fare to return to the embassy. Enough sightseeing for one day.