A Lady of Wealth and Cultivation: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Here's another chapter of ALOWAC! And I actually have a third written as well, but I'm not happy with the second half of it. It'll need some rewriting before I'll post it.

To recap chapter one: Our heroine, Emestri Sartarian, is the heiress to a crumbling county. When we last saw her, she and her friends were in the process of committing some light highway robbery when they were suddenly attacked by goblins.

-------------------------------------------------

Fucking goblins.

I do try to mind my language, but the various types of wretches that infest our lands truly deserve an expletive or three, and I carried scars from girlhood to justify my loathing. And though my mother's greatest triumph was to keep me from inheriting the worst verbal excesses of Father and his huntsmen, at least I could still curse the creatures in the privacy of my own mind.

They fell on us from the darkness — some literally, dropping from the trees — as silent as death until the moment they struck. Nasty, vicious creatures, no more than a meter and twenty tall, nude bodies like sacks of grain and with gray, mottled skin, batlike heads, and long, knobby limbs. They came at us with simple clubs and axes and spears, heedless of any danger, not caring if they died so long as they could harm at least one of us.

It was chaos and mayhem. We had not even considered the possibility of wretches in this wood. Not so close to Haven, where the sorcerers and the deans of the colleges prevented any tears through to Otherside from appearing. The little bastards must have wandered undetected from some other region, perhaps even dear old overrun Varian, avoiding farms, villages, and patrols to finally come upon us, distracted as we were.

To his credit, Malec was first to act, and he did so against the goblins, not his fellow humans. “Wretches! To arms! To arms!” he cried, and with a look that dared me to shoot, he drew his smallsword and lunged to run one of the charging creatures through. Then it was a melee. I fired my pistol at the nearest wretch, rammed it inside my jacket to draw the other, and slashed with my rapier at a goblin that flung itself at me from atop the carriage. Scarlet, never a fighter, took off as we’d agreed she would if things got violent. Her people let their prisoners up, and then brigands and honest folk were fighting side by side against creatures that we could all agree were without doubt the greater evil there.

The fight could not have gone long before Silver was shouting, “In the carriage! In the carriage, you pampered fucks! Get in the carriage and ride!” Then we, the bandits, were inexplicably fighting a warding action so that the men we’d just robbed could get in their fine conveyance. One of their escorts was badly wounded — having been stabbed and bitten — and was dragged inside under loud protest, the other defending the driver as he scrabbled into his seat and took the reins. My jacket was torn and bloodstained, both my pistols were empty, and my rapier was running red to the hilt, blood staining my glove. As the carriage rumbled off it was Silver, myself, and two more of Scarlet’s people in a small square around Alainne, the girl who’d been tending the horses. She should have run, and tried to, but had taken a thrown spear to the back of the thigh. Hopefully nothing a doctor couldn’t fix quickly, but stars only knew what was on those speartips.

I parried an axe and ran its wielder through the eye, kicking the goblin in the face with the sole of my boot to free my blade then laying its throat open with a slash for good measure, and then… then it was over. The howling little monsters had ground themselves to nothing against us, not one of them fleeing, their remains already beginning their slow sublimation back into Otherside; we were cut, bruised, and bleeding, but all of us were alive. Alainne was the only one seriously hurt, and Scarlet, I prayed, was safe with the loot and the horses.

“You alright, there, Emsy?” Silver asked, a murmur right by my ear. “Your eyes are a little wild.”

“Are they?” I replied. I’d dropped all pretence at masculinity at some point during the fight, and I could hear a shrill edge of hysteria in my voice. “Can’t imagine why.” It wasn’t like I’d never fought wretches before — I’d killed more than my share of goblins, and worse — but to be attacked so close to Haven, and while robbing two gentlemen… you’ll forgive me when I say that it was all a bit much!

“Come, girl, reload your guns,” Silver said, clapping my shoulder, and there was nothing patronizing about it. I might have had thirty-one years filled, but he had at least twenty more. He was not called ‘Silver’ for nothing. “Rein, Avir, help Aly up,” he said, turning me around. “Emsy, the two of us are on guard. We must get to Scarlet and the horses.”

Blessedly, Scarlet and the horses were unharmed, if restless. I’m sure she would have brought the animals to us if she could have, but Scarlet was not a large woman, and keeping six horses from bolting with the distant sounds of battle was at the limit of what she could manage. Alainne couldn’t ride on her own, with her wound and the bloodloss, but Scarlet’s palfrey could take them both for the few kilometers we had to travel.

I had quite a few concerns during that ride. The fact that we’d encountered goblins so close to Haven was only one, and one which would have to be reported — though Malec and Allard’s escorts would surely see to that. Then there was the prospect of getting back into the city. The countryside around Haven might have been peaceful for decades, but the walls around it, meant to keep out wretches, spirit beasts, and hostile armies alike, stood as tall and strong as ever. We’d have to pass through one of the gates to get in, and the men we’d just robbed would arrive long before us. That was besides the late hour and us being visibly injured, which would raise all kinds of questions.

I needn’t have worried on that account. Scarlet had arranged for it — of course she had — and we passed through the seaward gate without issue once she’d spoken to the guard there.

That left the obvious fact that I’d been hurt. Nothing severe. Nothing I’d call an injury; a few scratches, cuts, and bruises were all. I’d had worse. My parents had seen me with worse. But I’d always had a good, true, and most importantly, legal explanation for those. I’d have to be careful if I didn’t want to have to lie to Mother and Father — or worse, to my beloved sister, Prestielle. Not that Pretty didn’t appreciate my stories of fighting wretches or duelling scoundrels, but she much preferred when those stories ended without me taking so much as a scratch.

Scarlet, feeling very openly guilty about the state of me, took care of what she could. The discreet doctor to whom we brought Alainne washed my blessures with antiseptic and told me to keep them covered, and Scarlet promised to have my clothes cleaned and mended and ready for me the next time I came to visit — which would be in a few days. I had an appointment, and she was to vouch for me at the door.

In the morning, after I’d had a short night’s rest, Scarlet called out for a light breakfast. She then gave me a purse with my cut of both our stolen money and what she was getting paid for the job, and I was on my way home. In my feminine attire — long, rose skirt, a white silk blouse, and a powder-blue coat that fell to below my hips — and with my hair down, the only thing that might have let someone recognize me from the previous night’s criminality was the scabbard of my rapier, which hung almost to my ankles. Not that anyone would look too closely at that; if they questioned my right to bear it, they could inspect my signet ring.

I’d hoped to sneak in, but when I reached our estate I was caught at the gate. The thing had not been greased in far too long, and at its screech Marallie, the head maid, popped her head out the open front door. Our eyes met, and I knew that my parents would know of my arrival within the minute. I sighed, closed the gate behind me, and plastered on a serene smile to hide my embarrassment.

“Good morning, Mary!” I told her as I passed between the trimmed hedges.

“Good morning, my lady!” she replied from where she stood at relaxed attention on the top step of the portico stairs. There was a tone of slight disapproval in her voice, at odds with her relaxed posture, but there always was; I thought nothing of it. “The count and your mother and sister are having tea in the sunroom. Shall I have a service brought for you as well?”

“Only tea, please. I’ve eaten.”

“As you say, my lady.”

She then scurried off to have one of the younger maids do the serving while she continued with whatever it was my arrival had interrupted.

My return home was mercifully uncontroversial. My parents had long since grown used to me leaving in the evening and returning in the morning, or being gone for days at a time. They knew that I was bringing in money on the side; they knew how, or thought that they did, and were satisfied that it would not stain my reputation indelibly; and it wasn’t so much that they accepted my unladylike activities as they accepted their own unwillingness to do what it would have taken to stop me. I loved them dearly for it.

Of course, they wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on if they did complain. Mother may have tried to raise me to be a lady, but Father had raised me to be a border countess. I’d been riding astride since I could sit a horse, and fencing and shooting since I could hold a sword and a gun. And with poor Varian and our finances the way they were, the money I brought in was an undeniable boon, allowing myself and Pretty to keep up appearances in public no matter how Mother and Father had to scrimp and save behind the scenes. Normally I would have felt no embarrassment at all. It was just that, until the previous night, all my work had been strictly legal: fencing and riding lessons, guide work into Varian and other wretch-infested parts of our kingdom of Tarielle, and the occasional trip as an escort for wealthy young ladies travelling to other cities. Work that might sometimes be frowned upon for any member of my class, never mind a lady, but nothing illegal; nothing that would truly shame myself or my family. Not until the previous night.

I told them the cover story Scarlet and I had concocted — that I was escorting a lady around the city as she visited her beau, and that she had kindly allowed me to sleep in a guest room at her home afterward rather than wake my own household in the small hours. It neatly explained why I’d only returned in the morning, but was just scandalous enough for no one, not even Pretty, to press me too hard for details.

My family suspected nothing. The two gentlemen and their escort could not possibly identify me. And our entry to the city would have gone unreported. I was, I thought, in the clear.

***

Three days later, after an early supper, I again announced that I was going out that evening, and that I might or might not be back before morning.

Mother and Father looked at each other in a way different from their normal, silent communication. A way that made me sit back down from where I’d half-risen and wait in anxious silence.

“Prestielle, darling,” Mother said. “Your father and I would like to speak with your sister. Privately, please.”

Pretty, who’d been looking between the three of us with apprehension, immediately asked, “Why?”

“We will tell you later,” Father promised, “but for now it would be best if it were just the three of us.”

“Go on,” I said when she looked to me for reassurance. “Didn’t you ask Mary to set up your easel in the garden? There are only so many hours of sunlight left!”

“But—!” she protested, and I raised my eyebrows at her. Mother and Father never asked her to leave the room; if they did now, it must mean something. She then looked to each of our parents in turn, but found them unmoved. With a huffed, “Fine!” she rose and swept out of the dining room in the direction of the back porch, leaving us with the weight of her displeasure.

“Well?” I said once she was gone. I had quickly concluded that my crime had been discovered. My greed had caught up with me, and I was about to be condemned in some way, great or small. But on the miniscule chance that the evidence would not hold up, I refused to let slip any hint of guilt. I schooled my face, and allowed only the mild apprehension appropriate to being ambushed with a serious and private conversation with both my parents. “What is so important that it’s worth upsetting Pretty?” I asked.

Again, Mother and Father looked at each other.

“Emsy, dear,” Mother began carefully, “your father and I worry that you are perhaps not giving enough thought to the future. That—”

My certainty that my guilt has been established grew unassailable.

Father caught the nervous excitement in my eyes and cut Mother off. “Ria, my love, when has our daughter ever appreciated obliqueness? She’s as straight as a rapier, our girl, and equally sharp. Just tell her, please, or I will.”

“Very well,” Mother said, and by the way her apprehension matched my own, I knew that I was not going to like what she had to say. I braced myself for her gentle condemnation. And then she said, “Emestri, dear, we have found you a fiance. We would like you to meet him.”

That… that was not at all what I’d expected. But I was right. I did not like that one bit.