Book 1: Chapter 19 - About the Town [Part 1]
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It is perseverance through the darkest of times that truly marks the souls of the greatest of men. As the tide rises, carrying with it every ship in the harbor, so too does a man's commitment to the realm elevate all those around him. In pursuit of a brighter dawn, one may offer a lifetime to the forging of a just and noble society.
And though the shadow of mortality may claim him before he beholds the fruits of his toil, his legacy left behind is a bettered world. In the face of the abyss, where hope might seem but a fleeting wisp, those who tether their hearts to just purpose shall, indeed, find a profound fulfillment.
- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C
She had lost the battle but not the war. Seraphina, well-versed in the art of corporate strategy, understood that sometimes surrender was the most cunning move to gain greater control. The meeting with her mother, though far from satisfactory, had at least confirmed that her mother was looking out for her best interests. Yet, the notion that her every action, no matter how indirect, was being monitored sent a chill down her spine.
However, though she would never admit it, in the few days since she had met Anaselena, she felt more genuine warmth and passion from this world's mother than she ever had from her own. It troubled her on many levels, stirring emotions she had not felt in years.
As she walked through the bustling town, the sights and sounds enveloped her. To a very distant casual observer, she was just another noblewoman out for a leisurely stroll.
But at a closer remove things were differentt. Clad in a casual brown and white dress—the kind a rich merchant's daughter might wear—she might have blended in if not for her entourage. Three men accompanied her, two of them towering brutes clad in heavy armor and wielding halberds, the third a dangerous looking sword at his hip and with a cruel streak to his features. Their presence alone dispelled any notion of normalcy. Also, the very cadence of her steps was more akin to that of a general inspecting a military camp than a lady enjoying a stroll about the town. There was a purpose in her stride, a determination that simply could not be masked. Even Miriam, the maid at her side, exuded a hint of martial readiness with a small club hanging at her side.
Seraphina was not in town just to blow off some steam and distance herself from her mother and the castle proper. She was also searching for someone—a certain someone who should be traveling about the town at this stage of the game.
"Frest, Giles, Crayton," Seraphina called out as they entered the central market square, her voice cutting through the clamor of merchants and townsfolk.
"Yes, milady," they replied in unison, albeit slightly out of sync.
"How many years does it take to become competent with a bow?" she inquired, her gaze scanning the throngs of people.
"For war or for hunting, milady?" Giles responded, brushing away stray hairs that escaped from under his open-faced kettle helm.
"Why..." She hesitated, searching for his name. "Why Cra... Giles," she corrected herself, noting the flicker in his eyes. "Why Giles," she repeated more firmly, "both."
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He shifted his weight, considering her question. "For hunting, milady, a lad with some talent might learn to hit a still target consistently within two months. But to take to the field of war... it takes a few good years," he answered with measured deference.
"Frest?" she prompted, turning her attention to the former bandit.
"I'd say about the same, milady. Best bet would be to learn how to use a crossbow. In a week or two, you could probably hit a man at fifty paces,” Sergeant Frest ventured, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he relived a memory.
With the brother’s assignment to Seraphina’s personal guard, Armsmaster Kellan had been forced to give the former bandit a promotion.
"But... why... why would you want to do that?" Miriam interjected, clutching the front of her dress, her eyes wide with concern.
"Interesting," Seraphina mused aloud, ignoring her maid's distress. Two months or possibly years were far too long. Between the bow and the crossbow, she preferred the latter for her inherent skill in it. "Because, Miriam, hunting can be a pastime for a lady," she finally replied, a sly smile playing on her lips.
They continued walking, her eyes ever vigilant. The person she sought should be here... or at least passing through.
"Tell me, what do our shepherds use?" she asked, breaking the silence.
Crayton spoke up, his voice a touch deeper than his brother's. "Lady Seraphina, they use bows or slings. Most prefer slings because they're easy to make—just a long bit of rawhide or twisted wool. Some of the lads make fancy braided ones. They're basically free compared to bows, and you don't need expensive arrows. Just bits of stone, and stones are everywhere."
Seraphina stopped abruptly, turning to face him. Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Why, Crayton, I could kiss you!" she exclaimed, her smile radiant. Crayton's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and his brother shot him a sharp, warning glance.
A sling would be perfect—small, easy to carry, with ammunition readily available everywhere. With her exceptional Strength, the power of the sling would be magnified significantly. She had the Strength; now she just needed to acquire the skill—or Skill, as it were.
"You will procure a sling for me, along with some ammunition. I wish to begin practicing tomorrow. You will teach me after our session with Kellan," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. The joy on Crayton's face was unmistakable as he basked in the glow of her charm, feeling the full force of her Charisma working on him.
Giles's expression darkened momentarily, jealousy flickering in his eyes at the honor bestowed upon his brother. Then realization dawned as he recalled she had mentioned "our" practice with Kellan.
"By 'our' practice, milady..." he began cautiously, hoping his fears were unfounded.
"Eloise and myself, of course," she confirmed, her gaze steady.
He exhaled softly, relief washing over him. The last thing he wanted was to endure another grueling session with Kellan. After their humiliating defeat at the hands of the two girls, the Armsmaster had been relentless in his criticism and instruction, pushing them to their limits.
Suddenly, Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "Get that boy!" she shouted, her voice slicing through the ambient noise as she pointed with a finger.
All eyes turned to see a long-haired, dirty street urchin snatching an apple from an unsuspecting merchant's stall. The boy was a mere shadow in the crowd, his sharp, gaunt face framed by unkempt hair matted with dirt. Hollow cheeks and a feral glare gave him the appearance of a cornered animal. But most striking were his red eyes—they glinted with a savage cunning, a stark contrast against his grimy, olive-dark skin.
Clad in tattered rags that hung loosely from his frail frame, he was the embodiment of desperation. His clothes, if they could be called that, were patched and worn from rough use and the elements.
Clutching his stolen prize, the boy darted away with astonishing agility, weaving through the throng on bare, calloused feet. The crowd parted around him like water, barely registering his passage.
For a split second, Seraphina's entourage exchanged glances. An unspoken agreement passed between them. Frest elected to stay by her side, while the two brothers sprang into action, the clatter of their armor and weapons echoing as they pursued the fleeing thief.