image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/e7ad7127758106e9f52e3ab6df843487/69ee73cff7c8c104-c2/s1280x1920/d43d11b95f16682ad990b3310501ed35756311cf.pnj]
He was leaner than I thought he'd be, my Blade.
Walked around my cabin in close-fitting dark blue leather that made him look more like an assassin, than a bodyguard.
So of course, I asked.
"Why do you have a sword, if you're wearing leather armor?" was my question.
He'd paused from where he'd been using Wax to draw designs in a dish. I didn't know why he was doing it, but I'd given him the candle to amuse himself with when he asked... out of curiosity.
"Because my method of fighting is fluid," he replied. "Humans only fight fast and fluid enough with daggers and other small weapons. Elves don't have that sort of restriction. And the Vireld are faster and stronger still."
My mother used to tell my cousins and I the story of the Vireld- but she'd tell it differently than my aunts and uncles. She didn't hide the 'ugly' parts.
The Vireld died younger than other Elves, as a trade-off for their power and speed. Around eighty years of age, made them longer lived than a lot of humans, but not all of them.
Most nobles lived to seventy or so, and a lot made it to eighty.
It was unheard of for an Elf not to live to two-hundred at least. Two-ten was the absolute limit for them, usually. That's what comes of being connected to the natural world on such a deep level.
"It's just a very long sword," I said. "But not that long. It seems like you'd have to get up close to use it, but it's also unwieldy to take around if you're not a warrior."
He hummed. "I assure you, I can wield it just fine."
"What about your armor?" I asked.
His lips curled at one end and he looked directly at me. "What about it, Sceptarch?" He seemed to be trying to be respectful, despite the fact that he thought my question was somehow stupid.
"The color, cut and symbols sewn and engraved into it are foreign to me," I said. "I didn't think they made that shade of blue leather."
He bared his teeth slightly but it was less a smile and more a performance. "They don't. This color is the natural hide of a Vriska. A beast we raise specifically to fight in the arena. Anyone with this armor has proven themselves against the Vriska and so had their hide made into the finest armor."
Finest, I took note of that word. That meant it wasn't something just anyone could do.
I had no idea what a Vriska was. Nobody had ever told me about it. He could've just made it up and I'd never know. I wondered why.
Everyone whispered about the Diadem of Exchange like a ghost story they couldn't put down, but wouldn't talk about a fearsome beast that almost no Vireld could defeat?
"As for the designs," he said, breaking my reverie. "They'll make sense to you if you ever learn the dialect of Elvish we read and write with."
So it's Elvish words, I thought. It was an umbrella term we used to refer to the overculture. But really the languages were divided into three major and about twenty or so minor language dialects. And that's without the Vireld versions added in.
"Which dialect is it based on?" I asked.
"Inkini," he replied dryly. "The original."
Damn. Inkini was the language Elves were using when they had just sprung from the Eldertree. The birth of their entire species. Each race within the species was birthed differently, too. Or so they say. Some from a branch, some from a root. Etcetera.
"Going to be hard to learn, then," I replied. "I am only familiar with Oesha and Ilam." Elvish didn't have as many hard 'k' sounds nowadays, so that was one big difference I could already see. "I only know a few phrases of either, so I'm no expert with them."
"I'm surprised you'd know any at all," he replied. "Isn't it usually peasants who become Sceptarch?"
It is.
"I was born one," I replied. "Grew as one. I just... became very luckily obsessed with reading and writing. I'm a scribe- was. I was a scribe."
"Hmmm," he thought that over. "I suppose it doesn't matter. You'd only be killed if you were Vireld or Elf or some other species. As long as you're human, it doesn't matter what else you are. Just an... interesting detail."
"You speak very good Trade," I said. "I expected us to have some troubles. Vireld would only be required to learn if they had contact with humans, wouldn't they?"
He scoffed with a wry-looking smile. "Humans do things that way. Our people learned every language every Sceptarch has ever spoken. Trade has been the most prominent, most of our people know it. Or at least some of it."
"Oh," I said. "Humans only do what they have to."
"I suppose it's because we can still recall being Elves," he said. "In a sense. They have nearly all the time in the world for every little thing, don't they?"
"You came here alone?" I asked then. "I thought you'd have to bring at least one servant or doctor with you. Considering I might've been targeted for having the marks."
Didn't happen, usually. But those who wanted to weaken the Vireld would keep killing every Sceptarch as soon as they made themselves known and then...
"Very unlikely," he replied. "But no, I didn't. I brought the Edges with me. I had to leave them behind when you called for me and use the shadow walk." His lips twisted up like he didn't like the taste of the words in his mouth.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"What are Edges?" I asked. Wondering if it was just some weird name for a servant.
"They're a secret force of enforcers and bodyguards that are raised from birth to serve the Sceptarch and Blade," he replied. "When I die, so too will they and they will be replaced as I am."
It sent a chill down my spine the way he said it. It was of no consequence to him.
But it had to be. He wasn't raised to be the Blade. No one is. It happens to them, like it happens to the Sceptarch.
His expression is pleasantly smiling that businessman way again. But it took me near-thirty years to learn anything about human facial expressions... and it was likely just that I knew nothing about Vireld expressions yet.
There was a knock at the door and I froze up. I was still lying in bed, as he hadn't let me get up for the past day and a half. He'd fed me all kinds of calming sleepy teas, gotten me to sleep from midday to mid-morning and then brought me all my meals...
So I haven't been moving and I'm entirely defenseless as he took my stiletto from me and hooked it on his own belt.
I didn't know if that was a pride thing, but damn it, I wanted my stiletto.
He stalked over to the door and pulled the hood up on his armor to hide his face. It had some kind of magic on it, because I kind of couldn't tell what his face looked like when he did. Intellectually, I could catch on details. Green skin, nasal cavity-
But my mind would slide over those things like they weren't there, when his hood was up.
When he opened the door, there was a yelp, but then a babbling began. "Ah! Oh, oh uh... oh, you must be from the town guard. I'm sorry to interrupt. I just came to see... uh... is the lady of the house present?"
Town Guard? I wondered if he looked like that to her because of whatever magic was on his hood.
"I wonder," he replied.
"Let her in," I muttered. I was curious and... distrustful. I didn't know if anyone even knew Brint was dead yet... but...
"The Lady says you may enter," he stepped back and did some parody of a bow.
She merely smiled and stepped across the threshold. I'd recognized her voice, so it wasn't a surprise to see Mish standing there. It was just... why is she here?
Something connected in the back of my mind, but I didn't know why.
"Uh, Celia!" she said with a faux brightness that was quite obvious. "I had heard you were under the weather and came to check on you."
If it were true, she deserved some courtesy. But if it were guilt or gloating, either way it would merit an altogether different response.
"I see..." I said and watched as her eyes slipped over the Cabin with a tiny wrinkle appearing between her brows. "Looking for something?"
Her eyes snapped back to me and she hemmed and hawed before finally stating, "I just... Brint never went home last night. People are beginning to talk and he said he was coming to see you..."
Things began to click into place.
There were laws about men taking advantage of women. If the woman was dead, they had to pay money to their family and then go to prison, possibly be executed. If they weren't... they had to marry them and provide for them for the rest of their lives.
And yes, it was utterly stupid. But the assumption on the part of the men in parliament was that they were 'punishing' the man by forcing him to take responsibility and 'caring' for the woman who might never get married because of the attack and possible pregnancy- by forcing him to do so.
They didn't appear to really think about the horror of the event and how it would effect the woman's mind. I wouldn't have blamed those women if their husbands all had spontaneous 'heart attacks' on the wedding night. Not at all.
But they couldn't, because their husbands were to provide for them. 'Sullied' women don't often get jobs from reputable establishments. And even though they COULD choose not to marry them, they often had to, to survive.
Sad. Cruel.
And that's what Brint had planned for me.
He told people he was coming, so that one of the gossips would show up at an early hour and find him obviously having stayed overnight. He'd likely have untied me but left me passed out somewhere and would have roused me to talk to them.
Whether I'd pretended it was consensual or not, eventually the result would be the same.
To his mind. I'm sure.
No one bothered to learn more of the law than they needed, so he likely didn't know that if I'd pretended it was consensual, I could've just simply... refused to marry him. Especially if I wasn't pregnant. And there are plenty of concoctions to ensure I wouldn't be.
It was the forceful taking that was considered to render a woman 'sullied', not consensual dalliances. As long as I was just easy, then that was a choice. A woman Sullied is thought to be some kind of disabled. She's been 'harmed' in a way that many people don't understand and no one wants to employ one because they think it's 'better' if the woman allows the man who hurt her, to work for her comfort for the rest of his life.
They don't often ask her opinion.
Even if he managed to convince people it was against my will, I could still say no, but I'd likely have to fake my own death, get a new name and move to an entirely different region.
So either he knew that and planned to kill me- which telling other people did NOT suggest... or he didn't know and he was an idiot to the end.
"Hmmm," I said and stared at her.
She didn't seem to notice the markings on my forehead, or the very obvious gemstone.
At least not until she searched my face with a frown, because I wasn't responding in the way she'd intended.
When she finally registered it, her face went white and she stumbled backward.
But the Blade was there and she jolted forward away from him, turning as he lowered his hood.
"Ah!" it was a short shriek, but entirely unnecessary.
"Mish," I said. "It's funny... I would've expected him to tell someone else. You're not exactly a gossip, now are you? It'd be pointless to tell you when he probably knows about your feelings. He'd just assume you wouldn't tell anyone and ruin his plans..."
Another click. A piece that fell into place.
"...unless you were in on it for some incredibly stupid reason?" I asked.
She tried to rush out the door, but she had to go past the Blade for that.
He grabbed her by the back of her outfit and lifted her slightly so she was no longer on her feet. She was shrieking, screaming for help and he just slowly turned until she was facing me.
"Can you just smack her silent a little?" I asked as she continued screaming.
So he did. Not very hard, but enough to shock her into stilling. Her eyes welled up with tears and I had...
No sympathy.
Odd. Despite my lack of understanding, I always felt some sort of... reaction. To people's pain and suffering. As though I felt it myself. It's the main reason I didn't simply kill people who annoyed me, honestly. Because I could see them as people.
But in that moment, I didn't see Mish as a person. She was an enemy. And therefore became something else.
I didn't really like that. No matter how evil, you must be aware they are a person. To do anything else is to delude oneself. I'd never had that reaction before...
I will have to reassess myself.
"Mish... why would you do such a stupid- oh for god's sake," I closed my eyes and had a realization. "He promised to make you his second wife. Which would never happen, Mish. Was he going to let you make me infertile? Have me as his wife for two or three years, while people made humiliating jokes about his manhood until he could FINALLY marry you and have children to prove it wasn't his fault?"
Her lips were quivering and her tears were falling. "You don't know anything. He loved me. He just wanted the best chance at life for our children. You're a Scribe. It's a job you could do even after you got married. We'd have had three incomes. Two of which were really good. Our children would've wanted for nothing."
Sounds like a perfect fairytale... for the people who agreed to it, I thought in a dull inner tone. I don't even know if it's actual words, or just concepts.
"What do I do with her, Sceptarch?" My Blade asked me.
"Tie her to something until we can take her home. It'd be best if she didn't run off shrieking about anything," I replied. "And killing her would just make people angry."
I looked up and caught her eye just as she began to feel relieved.
"We've already killed one, after all. But they'll likely let that go as self defense once it's explained,"
Mish's eyes went wide and she looked to where the Blade gestured- to an urn on my kitchen table.
image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/5b5d52786e9a56a7af81aba5e606840f/6dbcfb518ea06000-45/s540x810/cd5d248167f385b37c47cc5f5b50853951e7dab2.pnj]
"Speaking of. I cleaned the ashes for you, in case you wanted to do something with them. I heard the last Sceptarch used the ashes of the dead to fertilize his garden," he said in a low, dry tone, watching Mish.
Her mouth opened and she screamed.