CHARLOTTE - MEADORA KINGDOM - 195
Cooking should come naturally to any scientist, the core of the practice is based on detailed instructions and precise measurements. That's why, even though the entire meeting with Dinn caught me off guard, the request for a meal was never any trouble, my cooking abilities were sufficient, or so I thought. To say my stew was elementary, in comparison to the dish Gerald just served us with my same ingredients and spices, would be an insult to elementary grade students.
“Gerald, where did you learn your culinary skills?” I ask in the flattest of tones.
“I taught myself out of necessity.” Gerald answers.
“Gerald Appleguard, preeminent Quinnbia Assassin, blessed with the talents of a royal court chef.” Dinn spits out mockingly.
“Madam, I have been blessed with many talents–”
Dinn interrupts. “Charlotte, do not compare yourself to the hired help. I prefer your stew, but I can’t see you work every evening.”
“But the difference in outcome is so vast… Gerald, could you teach me?”
“Could I teach you a few combat maneuvers instead?”
“Could you teach me both?”
Gerald gains an apprentice.
—
DINN - MEADORA KINGDOM - 195
My nervous fingers twinge and dance, palms slick with moist anticipation, target lock, I seize my opportunity, pouncing from behind. Charlotte slaps away my attempt to hold her hand. The contact made me happy enough. “It looks like the closest Adventurers’ Guild happens to be in Sinotan, so we’re already headed the right direction.”
“If you mean to form a legitimate adventuring party, how do I fit into the picture? What role did you recruit me for?” Charlotte asks.
“I will register under the tank role, you may select damage dealer or healer.”
“No, I mean with you two in the party, what do you need me for?”
“Gerald is not in my party.”
…
Silence.
“Why did you, a powerful warrior, ask me, a nobody farmer, to join your adventuring team. What do you expect me to do in battle?” Charlotte asks again, putting meaning into her words, expressing her expectation for a serious answer.
“I want to be an adventurer, I wish to lead the party, for me to lead, I need party members to follow.” I slow our walking pace, looking into Charlotte's eyes. “Follow me, I want you.” I twirl to land in front of Charlotte, urging her to take my out stretched hand. I can see red rising to the top of her ears, and there she goes, storming off ahead.
Catching up after a few merry skips.“Before we met I was so alone, if you are searching for value, I value you. If you are searching for purpose, then you fit in this party just fine, as I search for the same.”
Charlotte makes eye contact with the unaffected Gerald, a solemn companion that hasn't left Dinn’s side for more than a day in five years.
“A future revered scientist, renown throughout the kingdoms, I wouldn’t mind being leader to such a prestigious member.” I brush a stray black hair to hook behind her still radiating ear.
“I don’t know the first thing about being a scientist.” Charlotte deflates as she answers.
“I don’t know the first thing about being an adventurer.” I inflate as I respond.
“No, it's different, you are strong.”
Jackpot! I finally caught her hand in mine. “Charlotte, we, are strong.”
We walk up to a boy, half dead, laying in the middle of the road. I nudge the corpse with my foot, and Charlotte races to kneel beside after recognizing the resident from her town.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Kyle! What happened, why are you out here alone?” Charlotte begins to attach nodes and stickers with wires stemming from her bag frantically to the mangled body. “This may sting.” She flips a switch that jolts the dead deceased child back into the land of the living so hard he opened his eyes in a seated position.
“AHHHHHWAHH” The living child shouts. “Bandits! I was part of a traders' caravan transporting my father's wares, precious swords from the local blacksmith.”
I look to Charlotte. “That blacksmith’s kid?”
Charlotte nods as she provides first aid for the myriad of wounds covering the still adolescent body.
His panic soothes with each inhale. “They left me here for dead, but we were a large group, they must have been taken.”
“Kyle, could you point the direction these bandits might have gone? I happen to be looking for some decent weapons.”
Dribbling tears and snot, Kyle lifts a broken arm, raising a weak, trembling finger to point.
“Stay here.”
Wreckage and debris of an exploding door launch into the dingy tree-house style complex. After dusting the splinters off, I found myself surrounded by twelve bandits. The lead goes for his sword… and is disabled by a knee whipping into a brittle jaw. I borrow his sword and skewer two men on my left. Charge forward, kick, duck right, catch throwing knife, plunge into a nearby eye - seven left. Fingers hook onto a dropped sheath by the leather strap, drawing the blade, CLASH, slicing open arteries, unhitching tendons free from bone, and fading to shadows. I struggle with a larger man, oh, he has a dagger in his boot, in his throat, in his heart, stab, rip, and melt into darkness - four left. Hearing a distant footstep, ten paces ahead, seven, four, two, SLAM, foot meets jaw, jaw meets wall. Emerging in between a pair, trip one, direct jab to the other’s neck. Bent to grip the belt dagger’s hilt from the fallen, plunging the blade to sever two lower spine vertebrae, only to spring violently upwards, harpooning the same dagger into the still standing bandit’s skull - one left.
Günter sits in a dimly lit room as he takes liberal swigs of stolen ale and play fights with his new shiny weapons, only to drop them, startled by a click open from his door. He slowly turns his booze addled head towards the sound, stunned to see a most beautiful woman. Gently placing my hand on Günter’s chest, lightly pushing him down into his chair. One smooth crescent brush stroke of a palmed dagger, deep gashes appear starting from the cubital fossa length ways down both wrists.
“By the way, are any of the hostages alive?”
Watching the reaper picking up the new swords, unable to remain conscious any longer, Günter bleeds out. I explore the base, spinning and admiring how well-balanced the blades are, coming to a stop in front of a cage of what must be the hostages. I suck my teeth in annoyance after a closer look.
“Tsk, it’s all men.”
I return to the party… surrounded by a ring of carnage and the smell of recent battle. Panic fills as I pinpoint Charlotte and dash over. “Are you alright? What happened?” I asked while surveying the scene, understanding dawns as I take account of the unacceptable risk exposed to my precious party. Eight bandits, likely from the same group, lay dead. My inexperience and arrogance allowed for this. Finally releasing a sigh in relief, knowing that I got off easy this time. Charlotte, unable yet to speak, gawking at Gerald with wide eyes. I followed her gaze to look upon my butler, covered in blood and at least one visible cut to his left shoulder. With one more lingering, concerned gaze at Charlotte, I stood up to walk toward Gerald.
“Good job, Gerald, you protected my friend.” Patting him on the unhurt shoulder.
“By your grace, my liege.”
—
CHARLOTTE - MEADORA KINGDOM - 195
Gerald cooks up a feast and the re-stolen ale flows freely around the rowdy campfire. Kyle and the rescued traders rejoice over drinks, for their lives were not forfeit, celebrating with genuine cheer. Alcohol adds to my already difficult task of stitching up the deepest wound I’ve ever seen, on the largest man I’ve ever touched, whom I witnessed single-handedly kill eight bandits not hours ago. I haven’t even had time to process what rampage Dinn likely went off on to retrieve those swords and this merry group of men. And, did Gerald refer to Dinn as my liege?
“Hey, my dad made those swords. It's quality stuff, ain't it!” Kyle proclaims proudly, loudly.
“They work.” Dinn complimented.
“Thanks for saving our lives, but I’d kick myself if I didn’t at least ask, will you be returning those swords to us?” Kyle smiles, Gerald winces, and the rest of the group watches on in silent awe at the stupid lad.
“You couldn’t take these swords back from that bandit, and I assure you, it will be harder still to take them now from me.”
Kyle swallows spit he found in his mouth and bows. “Please consider them a gift, we are forever in your debt.”
I sit down by Gerard, seemingly recovered from his intoxication, dutifully standing guard outside of Dinn’s tent, scanning the serene plains under a tranquil moonlit night.
“Sorry, I didn’t heed your advice and ended up joining Dinn.” I said, looking down at the grass by her feet.
“Dinn is attractive. Don’t blame yourself.”
That was surprising, maybe he’s still a little tipsy. “Gerald, what is Dinn to you? Why do you follow her?”
“I swore an oath to an organization, Quinnbia, the Assassin’s Guild, to fulfill its founding purpose and to answer the prophecy.”
“Wait, the children’ tales of that Assassins’ Guild are real?”
“The guild was real, power and influence, secrets, espionage, high practitioners of the dark arts, even monarchs were mere pawns in our plans. The founding of the clan predates even that of the two kingdoms.”
“And Dinn is your boss?”
“Dinn killed my boss.”
“So… you are her prisoner?”
“I swore an OATH, Charlotte. My life is bound in service of the efforts and objectives of Quinnbia. As the guild stands today, Dinn effectively is the entirety of Quinnbia.”
“What is the objective of the guild?”
“To fulfill the prophecy.”
“What is the prophecy?”
“You’d sleep better not knowing.”
—