Lieutenant Oullas was a fool.

Rallyn had long held doubts about his commanding officer, but the events of the day led him to become certain of that much. He watched as the patrol leader laughed and caroused without a care in the world, clearly ignoring what had happened and the brand-new sword at his hip that was the result. With the bonus that they were paid for every new girl, the revelry was expected, but he could see nothing worth celebrating.

“You seem troubled, you gloomy recreant!” Kolliu, one of his squad mates said, sitting down beside Rallyn with a stein of some dark brew. His friend had always been fond of fine drink and fancied himself a man of discerning taste, but the stink of the soldiery at their ease had mixed too thickly to identify his friend’s choice, and he found himself little inclined to idle curiosity that evening.

“You know my trouble,” he replied, ill-disposed to speak on the matter.

“The women again? I do not understand you Ral, we have done this for long years already,” he said with a shrug.

“And for long years I have misliked it!” He had seen far more than any man should be asked to stomach, and had become near impotent from it all as a result. The terrified and dead-eyed girls, the meaningless carnality and perverse cruelties, it was all too much. He wanted something of substance, something of value. He wanted someone to love and be loved by, someone pleased to see him when he returned home. He wanted a wife and the blessing of children.

Not that the Captain would ever allow that.

“They are miscreants, vagrants, and the ill-born. What do their ilk matter? Aside which,” he continued, gesturing at where the twins writhed against their binds and each other. He looked, knowing what he would see. All too willingly, he looked. The sheer eroticism of the pair was enticing, even as it made him sick.

“You have savored their fruits, just as we all have,” Kolliu continued, wearing the sly smile of dark deeds shared. “Whence this sudden pang of ill humor?”

Whence came the complaints, the man meant. There had been a time for them, once, but that time had long passed. Perhaps he could have said no when the Captain had tendered invitation, but the whispers of rewards, glory, renown had brought him in. Had earned him acceptance, confidence, and a spot amongst an inner circle. Perhaps he could have said his no when the price to join the venerable town guard had been made plain — but he had paid it. In spite of reservations and shame he had willingly paid it, and in so doing he sealed his fate. Every one of his fellows there in that room shared that story. Participants and conspirators all.

So then, whence came his gall to complain when so much had passed already. When the fresh and livid guilt had already ebbed, when day by day and year by year the regrets had grown bearable and even trivial. Fear was the answer Rallyn could not say, now that all the anxieties and guilt and regrets had come roaring back. Fear of the consequences of the things they had done, of all that the fool lord and his overbearing love for the Captain had allowed.

“The pair today,” he said at length.

“Seemed feisty, that I’ll grant, but the captain will sort them out soon.” The sheer ignorant confidence of the man grated sharply against Rallyn’s nerves.

“I watched the silver one snap Las’ sword like driest kindling!” The scene replayed in his mind, the glowing eyes and the pinging crack of metal. “Forgive me if I do not share your certainty.” Forcing adventurers to serve as entertainment for the captain’s friends and the soldiery had never struck Rallyn as a wise idea, but he was in too deep to walk away. Now, though, he considered it. Considered abandoning everything and running until he could find a place that those eyes could not reach.

“So I heard, but now she is at the bottom of that pit. Relax, Ral.” He could give no voice to his dread with such an argument put before him, though it did nothing to quell his unrest either. Still, he had always been one prone to negativity. As he looked towards the others, lost in their revelry, he wondered if they might not have the right of things.

Right or not, he found himself in no mood to enjoy the twins with the rest of the barracks, and his stomach had immediately soured at the prospect of dinner. It was those eyes. He simply could not get them out of his mind, could not escape the way she had stared down at Rallyn. Never before had he been subject to such undisguised scorn, the sheer naked malevolence of it undermined his confidence. He felt certain nothing awaited him but nightmares should he attempt to take his rest.

Yet the captain would not take fear of a captive woman as answer for laxity, and morning shift came early. Rallyn excused himself from Kolliu and retreated to the bunk room while the others continued to carouse. Despite his early start, however, the tension weighed no less as the bells passed. He lay awake a long time, long enough to hear the merrymaking wind down and the shift change. Long enough for the other bunks to fill, and long enough for him to feel thoroughly worn out from the circles his thoughts insisted on going in.

He was disturbed from his contemplations on cowardice and prudence by a faint tremor creeping up from his pillow and directly down his spine. It was nothing. Could be nothing. But he remembered the impossible solidity of that woman, when he had failed to push her. He remembered the way the cavern had fairly trembled when she jumped into the pit. His own paranoia, fed by the dark of a sleepless night abed, had seized him fully. Unthinkable questions wrought of terror plagued him. The noble soldiery were supreme and inviolable. They were, they had always been. That was absolute.

And yet.

And yet he was certain he stood no chance against a single vagabond demielven woman. He was certain the lieutenant was equally as helpless before her. He even questioned if the captain would prove her equal, so badly was he shaken. A figure then loomed suddenly in the dark, but it proved to be only Kolliu, cursing as he yet again misjudged the height of the bunk. The man’s shin would no doubt bear a permanent mark should he continue such folly, but Rallyn found himself grateful. The sheer normalcy of the distraction stole the unreasoning panic from him as he remembered his friend’s words. The woman was in the pit and, even if she could win free of that inescapable place, he was surrounded by the finest of fellows.

Just as he was at last drifting off he heard the door to the tunnels slam open, crashing off the wall with a wavering groan, and wondered after the time. Had he truly remained awake for so long, stewing in senseless dread, that the shift was changing again? But who was so reckless as to slam the door this late? The captain would have the man responsible mucking the latrine for a week!

“What’re you—?!” Barked a voice too slurred to identify from out in the common room.

“Mea, the guards!” Said an unfamiliar voice. A woman’s voice. Ice filled his veins even as the bunkroom door was flung open and one of his fellows poked his head in.

“They’re escaping, to arms!” The silhouette vanished from the doorway followed by the tunnel door slamming shut with that distinctive clang. Immediately the men came alive from all around, grabbing weapons and donning what armor they could snatch in the frenzied rush to the common room. Years of training kicked in and had Rallyn armed and following, but the terror and sleeplessness slowed him and left him the last out. It was just as well, for the moment he saw that silver hair and the golden eyes he froze in place.

She was alone in front of the closed tunnel door, but even as his comrades surrounded her, she seemed to look past them. Through them. Searching for something. He didn’t miss that she was utterly dry, an almost pointless bit of minutia except that it should have been entirely impossible.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Did they leave you behind to die while they escape, little girl?” Lieutenant Oullas said, taunting her. Her gaze flicked to him momentarily and her brows knit.

“Little? Seriously? Whatever. Where did you idiots put my estoc? It’s in here somewhere.” She blinked and her eyes actually glowed for a moment as she swiveled to face the door to the captain’s chamber. “Ah, in there. Guess I’ll have to do this without it.” The men were put off by her complete disregard for them, but only for a moment.

“Give yourself up and don’t struggle, you’ll only make it worse.” The lieutenant said as he stepped forward to grab her. She immediately seized his raised arm at the wrist and twisted it with a crunch, sending Las to his knees. Rallyn’s gasp of surprise overlapped with that of the rest of the men, none of whom managed to move before the woman bent forward, drew the sword Oullas’ had just replaced, and beheaded him in a single stroke.

In the next instant the stolen blade seemed to catch fire as she ran a finger down its length. Immediately she stepped forward to bury it in a man’s chest, which broke the shock that had held the men. The next few moments were a blur of movement as every one of the brave soldiery surged forward, the ring of steel and the cries of battle echoed in the small room as they all linked together into formation. The woman acquitted herself well, terrifyingly well, swaying away from the blows and deflecting strikes, all while Rallyn himself remained frozen. Years of training forgotten in that moment as he cowered behind the doorframe. Unwillingly he was made witness to the woman as she casually defended herself and attacked in turn, ignoring shields, armor, Skills and all, while swiftly butchering any who fell into her reach.

As well fight stone for all the men could do against the intruder. As realization of that fact dawned upon them, crushing their spirits, it was the captain who burst forth from her quarters. Covered head to toe in the highest quality armor, wrought with the boar motifs of her noble house, the captain put heart back into the men who had become scattered and disheveled even after so short a melee. Her arrival heralded a brief pause in the combat as the men withdrew to her side.

Rallyn counted five unquestionably dead, and perhaps one who might be due to the glowingly molten handprint on his breastplate. But at least he wasn’t dismembered, burnt through, or smashed like an egg as the others were. The woman seemed to come to the same conclusion, and without an ounce of hesitation took a step and crushed his head under her heel, helm and all. The resulting mess was horrifying enough that Rallyn was forced to spit his sick into the corner.

“Butcher!” He heard Kolliu clear and enraged voice call out. Ral found the accusation apt, for out of the twenty who made up the Venbuelli township’s noble soldiery, a full quarter had already been brutally killed. Slaughtered by a single girl who had not a mark on her and seemed far stronger than she had any right to be. The sword she had taken from the lieutenant had begun to melt however, sagging and soon useless, yet Rallyn could not count that in their favor, not truly. But the captain had come, so at least they had a chance.

“You have killed my men, and for that I will make certain that you suffer greatly.” The captain said, strong and inspiring voice somewhat muffled by the helm. Hidden behind the bunkroom door Rallyn watched as the woman advanced toward his fellows while saying nothing. From the side he could see her eyes roving over the soldiery with the same bored contempt he’d witnessed before, an expression that held not the faintest trace of fear.

“Surrender now,” the captain continued, drawing her heirloom sword. Its etched and ornate length practically trembled with power as she pointed it at the intruder. The soldiery edged away from her at that, for they had all seen the captain’s bladecasting at work before and wanted no part in it. “Else your punishments will be shared by the rest—” The monster’s eyes took on a reddish glow.

“Captain, watch out!” Rallyn couldn’t help but yell. That was the same thing the woman had done before snapping the lieutenant’s blade and it boded nothing good. Immediately the butcher threw the sword’s molten remains at the captain and broke into an earth shaking sprint of such incredible speed that the long silver of her hair seemed caught in a gale, streaming out like a pennant behind her.

“[Flame Lance],” the captain called, and from her unwavering blade leapt an imitation of her sword made of fire and thrust straight at the intruder. The Spell pierced through the airborne glob of melted metal, stopping its momentum, and carried on straight into the intruder’s arm where she’d thrown it up at the last moment. The flash and clap of explosion rendered everyone briefly insensate, but once they recovered the woman stood there still, unscathed but for a small charred patch on her forearm.

“Hm. Didn’t hurt as much as I thought it might,” she commented, voice listless and empty as she turned her arm one way and the other while the burn visibly faded away.

“Monster,” came a mutter from one of the men.

“[Heated Charge],” the captain cast her Skill immediately, clearly not willing to cede the initiative. Her glorious flame-wreathed form blurred forward, sword held ready for a killing strike and shield tucked close. The woman didn’t move. Didn’t twitch, didn’t blink, just watched with half-lidded red eyes that seemed to look on with nothing but scorn in them. Until the last moment.

Rallyn saw it all, the scene etched into him forever. She took a half step to the side and with casual grace reached up to grip the captain’s boar helm by the tusks while also stamping on the captain’s foot with her own. Unable to stop herself, the captain pitched forward, the butcher’s monstrous claw-like grip on the helm forcing her head around with a resounding snap as she fell. The body thudded heavily onto the floor, sliding slightly from the leftover momentum of the charge. The captain’s flames guttered out.

“Strange. Hey. Any of you know if pain is linked to the amount of damage?” The woman said, voice still lifeless and cold, while glancing up from her slightly singed hand. “That really should have hurt more.” No one dared answer. Not after that. She then shrugged, took up the captain’s sword, and walked towards the stunned soldiery, but the heart of the noble guard was gone. Extinguished.

They defended themselves, though poorly. The well-trained regiment of comrades he had long known had become a rabble of men swinging sharpened metal with desperate force and no thought or coordination. Rallyn felt certain that not one of them hoped for anything better than to fall in battle now, for certainly he did not. Helplessly he watched as she began to cut down his comrades even as she began moving to take hits rather than avoid them. He watched as his friend Kolliu landed a heavy two-handed blow with a mace that didn’t faze the woman in the slightest. He watched as she turned and blew him off his feet, the force of it all out of sense with the negligent looking tap she gave to his chest. Rallyn saw his friend slowly turn blue, shivering, before collapsing entirely and becoming still.

Rallyn swallowed the urge to vomit again and crept away to hide from the rest of the terrible noises in the dark of the bunkroom. An eternity later, once everything had grown still, there came a sound like meat being chopped at staggered intervals. Rallyn’s fevered terror conjured images of butcher devouring the flesh of his comrades. So terrible was the thought that he tuned out all sound as best he could until the tunnel door creaked as it opened yet again, and a faint girlish voice called out to the monstrous woman.

“Oh, hey Ghoumi,” he heard from near the bunkroom door. “Told you I’d deal with them!” The woman’s voice was bright and cheerful, so mismatched to the things he had seen that it only increased his terror. Rallyn held his breath and tried to still his shaking, but she would find him. She would find him soon. She would find him and kill him and eat him, like all the others.

“You can always count on me, Ghoumi! But hey, while you’re here, would you help me look for my stuff? These idiots took it and I really need to wipe all this gunk off me, it’s seriously gross. I’m pretty sure it’s all in that other room over there.” There was a murmured response that Rallyn couldn’t make out.

“Oh, them? Yeah, don’t touch those two yet. There’s some kind of magic going on I don’t understand so I’m leaving it for now. Oh hey, watch your step. It’s a bit slick.” The small voice came again, obviously coming closer now.

“...ore guards?” He recognized that voice. It was the small dwarf girl that the captain and her friends liked to play with.

“Yeah, there’s one more hiding in here that I need to ask a few questions, but it should be safe now.” She knew! She knew he was there! He started crying like he hadn’t done since he had broken his leg falling out of a tree as a child. Then he felt it. A presence standing over him in the dark.

“Why are you hiding here anyway?” He tucked himself into a ball and cowered. “Ah, it’s the useless butt scoot guy.” He wanted to scream, to beg, to run. Anything. But all he could manage was to suck air. “Well, that’s perfect isn’t it?” He broke into fresh sobs. Perfect? What was she going to do?

“You were trying to call things off early on when that garbage guy was getting really annoying, I remember. It’s so great that you’re the one I ended up leaving for questioning! Definitely karmic justice.” Some unbroken part of his mind wondered what justice there was in such slaughter of the town’s soldiery.

That thought bolstered him enough to at least look upon the face of his murderer. To meet the golden eyes peering down at him in the dark. She had the face of a normal young girl, if a little unusual and exotic, and even with that enormous grin and covered in blood she was truly beautiful. At that moment a drop of that blood fell from her and landed on his cheek. Then another. An unsteady patter of the remains of his coworkers, his friends, his whole life, drip-dripping all around him, while he was paralyzed by those softly glowing eyes.

They blinked, and he finally managed to scream before immediately passing out.