Harridan Residence, Town of Lysislus, Region of Alustria, Obsidius

13th of the Soleil Moon, 1141 A.R (After Revolution) 

 "Yawn... If I have to carry one more goddamned sack of grain, my back will snap and you'll be to blame, Cousin..."

Yamra Harridan -- thirteen, with tousled and curly brown hair, and unique silver-grey eyes -- snarled his complaints after just tossing the last of the sacks down on the already-growing pile. His worn white shirt and muddy brown slacks hung off his slight form, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to make his agitation burn fiercer. The smell of horse dung and sawdust weighed heavily in the tight interior of the stables. Three compartments for horses lined the back wall -- each filled with haybales and a buckets with drinking water. There was an opening that lead out into the baking heat of the day on each of the other three walls.

"Hahaha! Sorry, little cousin, but you're a boy, so that's you job; hefting those heavy sacks from the harvested grain into this here stable." 

Those words came from Yamra's older cousin, Rebekah -- seventeen, with long auburn locks, glittering blue eyes, and a well-endowed chest that drew ogling gazes from farm boys passing by. She was always the talk of the farm, naturally. Whenever Yamra eavesdropped on some of the older boys who were working on the farm over the summer season, all he'd hear was their lustful and gluttonous remarks about his cousin. She did get on his nerves, but hearing those morons speak on her like she was a cheap whore made Yamra bubble with rage. It was often his uncle, Noel, who'd be the one to calm him down from clobbering the older boys.

At Rebekah's snappy response, Yamra rolled his eyes skyward, his cheeks dusted with soot from his earlier work cleaning the chimney. "Yeah? Well, these fucking sacks are too damn heavy."

Rebekah's gaze sharpened suddenly. "Yamra! You know Noel doesn't like that language being spoken from your little-boy lips."

"L-little boy lips...? Alright, screw that! You're saying Uncle doesn't like me cussing, but he's apparently OK with you smoking pipes with those older guys you're always hanging around after dark?"

Yamra's audible mention of her not-so-allowed nighttime activities made Rebekah blanch for a solid ten seconds. Then, her colorful face flushing further with an angry blush, she stalked over and slapped Yamra on the shoulder. Her lady-like hands didn't even jostle his arm, as it had been toned from nearly six years of hard labor on the farm. Rebekah only seemed to get more enraged at that. "You are literally the worst! First off, I don't 'smoke pipes with older guys'. They're the only ones smoking, and we're all the same age! Well, I mean... Revol is turning twenty-one this winter, so..."

She shook her head. "Despite that, you can't be yelling those... baseless accusations out loud."

Yamra felt a spark of playfulness shoot up his spine, and he couldn't suppress his sneaky smirk. He fished in his deep pockets of his brown slacks, looking for a certain item he had found in Rebekah's room two days prior. "Oh? It was only them smoking, you say? Baseless, was it? Well..."

Yamra was practically grinning as he produced a well-used pipe from his pocket, the top singed with the gratuitous use of an avid smoker. What he held in his hands at that very moment was quite a bit of damning evidence. And sure enough, Rebekah paled like a ghost at that damning evidence. Her glittering eyes glancing left and right as she leaned forward and violently snatched the pipe from Yamra, tucking it securely in the pouch at her waist. She fixed her little cousin with a look that was both venomous and anxious. "Name your price. Whatever I can do that's in my power to keep this... item between us two only."

Yamra made a show of stroking his non-existent beard. "Anything? Do you have five ore coins for me to head to the red-light district?"

"Ew. Don't be fucking gross, Yamra, and name your damn price."

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"Ooh, that's Noel-disapproved language, Cousin." When he saw Rebekah's expression as she began to lose patience, he sighed with content. "Alright, Princess. I have the perfect thing..."

"What?" For once, Rebekah was looking desperate. "If I can do it, I'll do it." 

Yamra looked at her with a deadpan glare, then pointed outside the stable, towards the steadily-expanding line of grain sacks to be carried inside. "Get ten of them in here, without help from your admirers, and we'll call it even."

Rebekah bristled. It looked like her auburn locks were about to stand up on-end. She clenched her pouch at her side in white-knuckled grip. "F...fine..." Then, wordlessly, she walked past him and bumping his shoulder with hers, as she headed outside to complete the job that was apparently only a 'job for boys'.

When she was out of sight, Yamra let himself wince and rub his aching shoulder, the same one Rebekah had hit with her own. While her lady-like hands were too dainty and delicate to injure a man, most of the rest of her was like a sharpened knife. Yamra wasn't sure if it was a natural part of her, or if she had been trained by the assassin Extinguishers of the Alustria region. He had asked his uncle Noel in the past, but he hadn't gotten a concise answer. He was certain the forty-something year old was just as clueless as to the origins of Rebekah's naturally-fortified body. If there was one thing Yamra was grateful for that he wouldn't speak a word off to another living soul, it'd be that Rebekah only ever hit him with her hands.

Hm. Maybe she was aware of her own strength, and was just giving him the low-end of the possible punishment she could dish out?

No, Yamra doubted that. Why would she do that when it was so obvious she disliked him?

Just like he realized everyone else disliked him as well. And why wouldn't they? He was an asshole, through and through...   

Rebekah grumbled to herself as she dragged the grain sack across the dirt ground with slender, shuddering arms. As she has guessed, she had been asked by all of her so-called 'admirers', asking for them to aid her. With a bitter remark, she shot down each and every one of them. She knew their type; guys who thought the only way to a lady's heart was through acting chivalrous and putting all the strain on themselves. 

Rebekah hated it.

Her type of man was strong and helpful, yes. But he was also someone who'd let her be her independent self and wouldn't try barging in to help with every little damned thing she tried doing. So, when Gordon and Lee and Samson -- probably her three biggest admirers -- had asked her to lend their assistance, she rejected them with the respective replies:

"Go back to twiddling your thumbs and giving me creepy glances from halfway across the field, jackass. I won't let you get your trousers wet over sneaking lusty touches on me!"

"I'd rather sell myself to a brothel and let a fat nobleman have his way with me. So, kindly, piss off and go back to trying to hook up with any girl who even looks at you!"

"Fuck you. And fuck your ugly hat too."

Luckily, that seemed to have deterred them for the time being, but those three in particular were some proper fools. They wouldn't let even her nastiest mocks knock them down. Rebekah would've found their unwavering determination charming, if it wasn't those three with that trait.

So, with a agonized moan, she bend over again to grab at the sack again. She suddenly heard a smacking sound, simultaneous with a jarring flash of pain on her backside. Has someone had just slapped her ass?

She stood up with flooding rage, saw one of her more-shameless admirers, Gary, with a gleeful look on his face as he stared at the hand that just smacked her from behind. He looked at her with a look that said, "Wow, now that's what a call ass--"

Rebekah interrupted her own thoughts, not letting them spill over into imagining the truly depraved things swimming around in that boys head. Instead, she kicked out with her right leg, then struck with her left elbow.

The kick jammed her instep up between his legs, making him let out a shrill squeak. Then the elbow hit him in his nose, and he flopped to the ground like a fish, blood running down his face from his burst nose. It seemed he was one of the many people who had no clue about her reinforced body, a natural and totally-unladylike condition she was born with. Before her parents passed and she was adopted by Noel, she had always felt so empty, so disconnected from all the other girls her age. She wasn't empowered enough to join one of the many Mage Schools across the region, but also too empowered to be properly brought up as a proper lady. When Noel took her in, he had not struck down her natural enhancements, but instead encouraged her to master them. So, she had.

And six years later, she was now probably the strongest girl in the whole town. After all, every part of her was trained to peak performance, every bit flowing with natural power. Apart, of course, from her still-ladylike hands. They were the only part of her not freakish.

And that why she hit Yamra with them only.

She didn't want to actually harm him. Why would she strike him painfully, when she loved her little cousin so much?