Chapter 6 - Swords & Nobles (Patreon)

< Previous | Table of Contents | Next >

Days later, I lay in bed, annoyed. It was pitch-black, though the light from the nearby city surrounding us cast a faint glow. It was nothing compared to New York, regardless, and my mind was too far elsewhere to care.

It had been nearly six years since I entered the world.

There were things I knew. That I accepted. I was in another world, for one. That I had a second chance to live my life and do things differently. 

But what did I want?

“What do I desire?” I mumbled. “I’ve learned so much about this world, its people, the threats, the powers. What does that all mean for me?”

In my last life, I lived for others to my detriment. Since returning, I’d focused on observing this world like an outsider. Now, it was time to live in it.

“My life matters more than everyone else’s. It has to this time,” I affirmed within myself. “I will not be a good or a bad person. I will do what I like, what I want, and whatever I desire. That’s my only goal: to put myself first. For once.”

It was my starting answer for my new life. I wanted to be completely selfish. I’d lived life the opposite for over 30 years, put myself second, and got nothing. I died. All I wanted was for me to win. Me. Me, me, me. That was all that mattered. Screw everybody else!

My mind drifted into silence as I stared at the ceiling.

A sudden, ironic conversation tickled the back of my mind. It surged forth like a wave, filling my brain with memories.

Scott was my only friend at the public defender’s office. Unlike me, he had a family, children, and friends. I envied him. Even when bad things happened, he always smiled. Unlike me, who worked every day to get people to like me and failed, only serving to be taken advantage of in the process, Scott was someone people loved.

Why he befriended me, I’d never know. Perhaps that’s why he was so likable.

One day, I asked him what made him happy and how he stayed that way. He came up with some initial slogans I brushed off. When I pressed him further, he became quiet and stared at me before uttering something I had forgotten about until now.

“You can’t wait for everything to be okay to live your life. Good or bad, you’re still breathing. All you can do is keep going. If you do that, you’ll eventually find something worth living for,” I quoted, reflecting on the conversation.

A pang of sadness flushed through me as the realization that I’d never see him again settled within my heart, but I brushed it away like I’ve done many times before. He wasn’t the first person I’d known and left behind. Doubtless, he’d be the last. That’s what relationships were in the end. Temporary, good or bad. They were always meant to end. 

“He was right then, and he is right now. Nothing will change if I don’t try,” I muttered as I got up and started pacing my room. “I know what I want.”

Freedom…

That’s it. That’s the word. What I want more than anything else in the world. To do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want. Good or bad, as long as I desire it and it benefits me, then its good. 

“And what I want is to become an Eater,” I affirmed. “I won’t get a Divine Treat just because. I have to earn it. Beyond being a Chosen Child and a baron’s daughter. I need something more.”

Several thoughts danced in my head before I settled on a tactic. 

•

The next morning, I found myself in front of the baron’s office. 

A large door stared down at me. A singular soldier stood by it. He glanced at me, surprised, when I appeared.

“I’d like to see my father,” I communicated to the fellow rather loudly.

The man hesitated.

“Let her in,” said the baron beyond the door. 

Relieved of the stress of having to make that decision, the soldier opened the door. I moved past him inside.

A large desk sat in the middle of the room. The baron rested in a broad, wooden chair. Books surrounded him. A large window backlit the entire room. Mounds of papers filled his desk. 

It all gave me flashes back to my old life.

“Yes, Scarlet?” He called to me, expectant. He likely knew what I wanted. He could see it in my eyes. Even day earlier, he could tell I wouldn’t give up.

But I had a plan.

Asking for the treat itself? Failure. Doomed. But— 

I straightened my back, then spoke. “I wish to learn how to use a sword.”

Lord Embers flinched. “Hmm?”

“I-I wish to learn to fight. To use a sword, Father.”

“Is that so?” the baron leaned forward. “After our conversation yesterday, why is that?”

He’s not saying no.

“Every day, I learn of war and its history in our kingdom. Even now, war threatens us because a Voiced will not emerge in these lands.”

The baron frowned. “That damned professor.”

“I’ve learned a lot from him.” I raised a finger. “One must be able to defend oneself in these uncertain times. I can try to live a life of peace and love, but the world is not kind. It’s cruel. Peace can end in the blink of an eye.”

The baron sighed. He leaned back in his chair. “You are a noblelady, Scarlet. Education is one thing. A life of hardship earned in battle isn’t in your future. There’s no reason to risk your body in such pursuits. And it will not earn you a Divine Treat.”

I ignored him. “Can you use a sword, Father?”

“I can, but it was required of me. Your mother cannot use a sword.” He leaned forward. “Men are born to die for the women they love. That is life. It’s how we’re wired. You were born to be protected. Women give men purpose. That is how things are.”

“We employ female soldiers at this castle, Father,” I disputed. “One became an Admix just yesterday, right before our very eyes. It is not unprecedented for a woman to use a sword.”

“It is not,” the baron agreed, “but it is for women with status.”

I bit my lip. “I am weak. I do not wish to be. We hire people to die for us, but I cannot in good conscience watch them, should they ever have to in my stead. I’d rather be able to defend myself, beyond power. Beyond greed.” I touched my heart. “It is my duty to myself and the person I intend to be. Hopefully, a great person. But at the very least, a great daughter.” My eyes softened. “Please.” 

At that, the baron’s face morphed. The rigidness he’d settled on melted into surprise as he took in what I said. 

We both went silent for a while. I could watch my father mulling over everything I said. Eventually, he sighed, slamming his hand on his desk and popping up from his seat.

I flinched, not expecting that reaction.

“More of me in you than I thought, though you’re a spitting image of your mother,” he muttered. There was a pause. He stared at me. “Are you sure you want this?”

Without hesitation, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“We shall see. Guard!” he eventually called. “Fetch Talbert.”

I heard the man at the door receded quickly. 

A few moments later, the door to the study opened. In walked Talbert, just as tired-looking as he was the day before. 

“You called?” expressed the man in a groggy voice.

“My daughter wishes to learn the sword,” said the baron.

“Oh?” Master Talbert expressed the noise, but there wasn’t much surprise on his face. It was like he sensed my ambitions the day before. He leaned down before me. “Are you sure?” His voice darkened coldly. I nearly quivered at the words.

“…yes, sir.”

Master Talbert stared at me. Eventually, his lips played around with a slight smile. “Ah, what fine resolve.” He stood up, looking at my father. “I’ll either make her quit or beat her into shape. You have my word.”

The baron nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “Good.”

Huh? What was that?

“Come.” Master Talbert began walking out of the room. “No time like the present, child.”

Child? Not even Lady Scarlet?

Ah.

He’s going to be…difficult…isn’t he?

•

Months later, I awoke in pain, as I did nearly every day once training became part of my life.

“Owowowowow,” I cursed with a bleary wince.

The moment I opened my eyes, the sting running through my body made me want to shut them again. I rolled out of bed anyway. My limbs felt heavy. A pounding ache lived in every muscle. Standing took effort, but I managed.

My bedroom was relatively void of character. I never asked for much. Since infancy, the only real changes I’d made were getting rid of the crib, adding books, putting in a desk, and replacing my wardrobe.

I walked over to the mirror on the wall and looked myself over.

I was in a long, thin shirt, and nothing else. It was boiling hot in a world with no air conditioning. It took everything I had in my power not to sleep naked, which I totally would if not for the hordes of employees that constantly broke into my room on a daily basis to get me ready for shit.

Red hair flowed past my shoulders. Square bangs flittered just above my eyeline. I’d lived with long hair in my past life, too, but it was double what I was used to. I had tried trimming it myself once, but Sonya walked in on me holding a knife in one hand and a fistful of hair in the other, ready to chop. She screamed at me for that one.

Because of that, I generally kept it tied back in a ponytail with an adorable red ribbon. It was slightly redder than my hair, which apparently mattered enough for me to notice now.

I sighed and slapped my temples. “Stop these stupid thoughts.”

That was the part that bothered me. I used to be a tall male lawyer with a beard who knew martial arts. Now, I cared about what color ribbon looked best in my hair. The change was subtle, but subtle was exactly what made it frightening.

Dappled purple bruises covered my arms, legs, and torso. There were none on my face, but beyond that, there wasn’t a single unmarred patch of skin on me.

“Another lesson this morning,” I groaned. “Haven’t made much progress in seven months, but it’s getting easier to swing the sword at least.” A broken chuckle escaped me. “All it takes is practice.”

I let myself wallow for a few more minutes. Once the worst of it passed, I got dressed: a skirt and a fitted, long-sleeved shirt. I still wasn’t allowed to pick out my own clothes, but at least a skirt gave me some range of movement. Slacks and a baggy shirt would’ve been better. I made do.

I tucked in the shirt, belted the skirt, shoved on some boots, strapped my practice sword to my side, and rushed out.

First, though, I stopped by the kitchen for food. Knowing my body needed protein, I’d convinced the castle cook, Chef Rumsley, to make a version of peanut butter. So that morning, I asked for mashed fruit, milk, oats, and a scoop of the stuff.

Essentially, a smoothie bowl.

“It’s very healthy based on the balance of everything in it,” I told Chef Rumsley while scarfing it down with a spoon.

“Is it? Yes, I suppose it would be,” the chef mused. “You’ve been very conscious of your diet lately. Training going well?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I want to make sure my body grows strong, so I’m purposely eating food that’ll help with muscle growth after a strenuous workout.”

The chef blinked at me. “When you speak, it’s hard to see you as the child you are.”

I blinked back. “I get that a lot.”

Chef Rumsley sighed. “Go on. Get to your lesson before Master Talbert gets angry at me.” He feigned a shiver. Then his eyes drifted to the bruises on my legs. “Wouldn’t want that.”

“What are you talking about? He’ll get angry at me. You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, do take care of yourself, Lady Scarlet,” the chef called as I left the kitchen, having finished my meal.

“No promises!”

Moments later, I opened the doors to an expansive, mostly empty room.

Master Talbert’s domain.

Talbert was a skilled swordsman kept in-house by the baron. They’d fought together in the Bastion Rebellion and in smaller campaigns before that. When the baron was promoted to keeper of Water’s Bastion, he brought Talbert along as an advisor. They owed each other a lot.

In the grand scheme of things, Talbert was exactly the kind of man I needed to learn from, violent methods aside. It wasn’t as if physical punishment itself was foreign to me. I’d rolled with people in martial arts for decades. This was just worse, mostly because my new body was underdeveloped, weak, and annoyingly limited.

Talbert lived in what looked like an old, small ballroom the size of a basketball court. There was a shoddy bed, a busy-looking desk, and a single table with two chairs over by a massive window overlooking the city. That table had an expensive-looking bottle of whiskey and two upside-down glasses waiting patiently to be used.  

Other than that, the place was plain and packed with practice swords, dummies, and armor. It looked like the room of some twenty-year-old fool who was way too into knights and had never learned how to clean. But no, it belonged to a man so obsessed with fighting that everything else in life had faded into irrelevance.

I was sure he could have had better accommodations if he wanted them. But he didn’t, and that told me everything I needed to know about his dedication to the sword.

It was in that room that I underwent, for lack of a better phrase, fleshly torment.

“Good morning, Scarlet. I hope you didn’t eat breakfast,” remarked Master Talbert.

He lay atop his bed with a book in one hand, staring at the page like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Oh no.

I gulped. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, try not to puke.” Talbert closed the book and stood. “Let’s warm up, shall we? We’ll start with a hundred downward swings, then a hundred practice thrusts, a hundred sweeps, then a hundred alternating diagonal slashes on each side.” He walked over, picked up a weighted practice sword from nearby, and handed it to me. “With this.”

“Yes, sir.”

Finally. I got to go up in weight.

“Remember to focus on returning to proper form and keeping your arms smooth. That matters more than speed. If you rush and mess up the form, you—”

“—have to start over from one in the set of one hundred. Yes, sir.”

“Well, get going then, since you know it all,” Talbert scoffed.

He went back to his bed, grabbed his book, and resumed reading. Even like that, he caught me every time I slacked off. I knew from experience.

The warm-up alone took a while with my undeveloped body. In the beginning, it had been all I could do. I’d repeat the same downward swing for hours, getting reset to zero until my form stopped falling apart.

The rest came later. It took nearly five months for me to get through the full routine without burning the whole morning. My body was still that of a child, and I’d never used a sword before in either life. And I made a lot of errors. A lot. Talbert never seemed bothered by my pace, though. I was. I’d honed my old body into a weapon out of pure stress in my past life, and all that progress was gone. Annoying, yes, but it also meant I got to start over with enough knowledge to build myself better this time.

I understood why Talbert had me train that way. I was still growing. I needed endurance. And he wanted me to build a proper foundation before moving on to anything more advanced.

My mornings belonged to him until around lunch. Afterward, I went to lessons with Professor Lorik. By five in the evening, my day was done. I ate and relaxed as best I could.

With how sword practice went, “relaxed” mostly meant falling asleep right after dinner and waking up to do it all over again.

Still, I’d improved. I moved better than when I’d started. My recovery time was better. The bruises didn’t hurt as badly.

Seven months of careful training would eventually yield results.

Speaking of which...

I finished the warm-up drill in record time.

As my reward, a wooden blade smashed into the back of my knee.

“Anticipate, Scarlet!” Talbert barked.

I yelped, buckled forward, and crashed to the ground.

“Ready to give up?! Go back to wearing pretty dresses, reading books, and waiting to get married off like some prized calf! Pop out a few little babes and die a footnote in history!”

And there began the daily insults. Always so encouraging. I had little time to dwell on their content before the next volley began.

I winced and forced myself back up. “No, s-s-sir.”

My flesh felt like it was on fire. It wouldn’t have surprised me if splinters had buried themselves under my skin.

“Then dodge!” Talbert bellowed, swinging downward again.

Around an hour later, I was sprawled on the floor. Pain had gone dull. Sweat pooled around my body. My breathing came ragged and raw. Little bits of dried blood clung to cuts along my arms, legs, and torso.

Master Talbert sat beside me on the ground. “What has it been, seven months since we started training?”

“Yes...”

“Didn’t add a sir that time?”

“Sorry... sir,” I huffed weakly.

Talbert snorted. “There’s no need. I was joking with you.”

“That so?”

“You have a strong spirit. I expected you to quit within the first week, but here we are,” Talbert said. “And you haven’t cried. Even your father teared up when I laid into him during practice years back.”

“Did he now?”

“It got to the point where he’d go out of his way to avoid sparring with me.” A distant, reflective look crossed Talbert’s face. “He got used to it.”

“And if I’d avoided you? Would you have come and gotten me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It was your father’s duty to use a sword. It was his life’s blood. You have no such burden. I would not have forced you if you’d given up.”

“No duty?” I snorted.

My mind flashed back to standing on the ledge of my old apartment building.

“Everyone has a duty not to stay weak.”

Master Talbert stared at me, unblinking. “Well said, child.”

With great effort, I stood. My fingers shook as they wrapped around the practice sword lying beside me.

“Shall we go again?” I asked.

Master Talbert smiled.

“Wonderful.”

•

By the time I was ten, I wasn’t having the same problems. 

I still got brutalized on principle, but by then my balance had sharpened, my recovery came faster, and Talbert had stopped treating me like a child who might break if pushed too hard.

“Fuck, you call that a handstand!?” Talbert spat. He threw a practice sword near my head, trying to get me to flinch. “You weigh no more than a sack of food for a beggar family, and you’re struggling after ten minutes!? KEEP GOING!”

Sweat poured down my face as I crossed the room upside down. My goal was ten laps from one end to the other, and every time I reached the center, I had to stop and do ten handstand push-ups without dropping.

I was on my third lap.

“You fucking do it then, you old bag of shit!” I shot back. Sweat dripped off my face. My skin probably matched the color of my hair. “Eat a dick and die!”

“Then you’d have no one to train you, brat!” he yelled. “You think anyone wants to take time out of their precious day to pity some brat!?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be in here jerking off to swords all day!”

I reached the far wall and collapsed.

“Shit, you can’t even do five laps. What’s wrong with you?” Talbert huffed, genuinely disappointed.

“I am ten!”

“Shut up. Excuses. You’ve got more talent in you than most adults.”

“How does this help me do anything?” I complained from the floor, not bothering to fix my posture. I just lay there in a collapsed heap, huffing and groaning between words.

“Controlling your body weight is all you’ve got. You’re a girl. You’ll never be stronger than me. But if you can move anywhere, flee quickly, and slip through openings other people can’t, then you’ve got a chance to escape and stab someone from the shadows.” Talbert grabbed a cup of water he’d prepared nearby and held it out. “Now get up. It’s time to stab each other.”

“Godsdammit,” I muttered, forcing myself to stand as I snatched the cup. “All right.”

“Besides,” Talbert added, grabbing two practice swords, “you need the strength if you actually want to use two swords someday.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I shook out my limbs and stretched my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

•

Time moved on.

Before I knew it, I was thirteen.

Around when I was nine or ten, the baroness became extremely concerned that I wasn’t making any “friends my age.” I spent all my time training and studying. I avoided any invitations to tea parties. 

Naturally, it made the baroness worry I’d die alone and unloved, should they happen to perish in a tragic accident.

Even though the baron could see how hard I’d devoted myself to the sword, he agreed with his wife. So I started attending tea parties. I’d act polite, smile at the right times, and listen to everyone chatter.

It was agonizing.

I couldn’t have cared less what girls my age were doing because, in my head, I wasn’t a fucking teenage girl.

Still, every month or so, I made the rounds just to keep my parents off my back.

At one such event, I found myself holding back a sigh as I raised a teacup to my lips.

We were in a boutique tea shop in Water’s Bastion. The back courtyard had been rented out by a local merchant’s wife and filled with the wealthy daughters of the district.

And out of everyone there, I was technically the only noble.

So everyone sucked up to me.

It made me want to drown myself.

“Lady Scarlet, um, are you enjoying yourself?” the daughter of the host, Rebecca Lumel, asked me. She was a nervous blonde girl I’d met more than a few times by then.

“Oh, I am,” I said, stabbing a piece of cake with a bland expression. “The treats are delectable, the tea is hot, and the decorations are lovely.”

“Oh! Good!” She tapped her fingers together. “It’s just… your face doesn’t really show that.”

There were around ten girls at the table. Our personal guards waited nearby while we sat in a gated courtyard behind the shop, pretending this was all terribly elegant.

Most of them acted concerned about me, but none of them truly cared. I was simply an avenue for influence. A useful connection. None of us were close.

Or rather, I saw no reason to become close.

I hadn’t shut the door completely. I might need them someday, and I knew that. So I kept up the pretense. But I had nothing in common with them. I was a thirty-year-old man trapped in a girl’s body, and they were actual teenage girls. We had nothing in common, and it was agonizingly boring to be around them.

“Mother says a girl can recover from an ugly face if her dowry is large enough,” one of them said with a giggle.

Another sighed into her tea. “I’d rather marry for a title. Money can be earned. Rank can’t.”

A third smoothed a hand over her sleeve. “My aunt says the easiest way to secure a good match is to stay agreeable and never make a man feel small.”

Being around them felt like torture.

In my spare time, I hit people with swords, read, and relaxed in hard-to-find places. That was it. Shopping didn’t interest me. As long as my hair was clean and straight, I was good. And any form of dating barely crossed my mind. I was already willing to die alone in my past life. Given the bodily changes, that reality was probably a certainty for me now.

Unfortunately, marriage talk was becoming harder to avoid.

My parents had started bringing it up more often. So had these girls. It was an unavoidable part of a noblewoman’s life, even as young as we were. And it was worse in the noble circles than with the commoners, from what I’ve seen. 

Annoyed, I stabbed another bite of cake into my mouth and forced a smile. Still, Rebecca watched me even though I had nicely settled the situation.

“Lady Scarlet—” Rebecca began.

I cut her off with my escape plan. “It’s that time of the month,” I said curtly. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

“Oh! Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I was being rude asking.” Rebecca’s whole face changed at once. She nodded in sudden, earnest understanding. Every girl at the table did. The wave of support I got from nothing but their expressions felt bizarre.

But they believed me. And, well, it wasn’t a lie, either. I was in cramps hell.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to maintain my composure for much longer, I’m afraid,” I said, layering on a little extra personal anguish. “I think I should take my leave for today, if you don’t mind. This was absolutely lovely. Thank you for inviting me. We must do this again sometime.”

“Of course!”

We exchanged all the usual polite nonsense before I departed with my guard, someone I’d become moderately familiar with.

“It’s too good a day to spend my time cooped up in there,” I said as we stepped out onto the street. I stretched my arms and looked over at him. “Thoughts, young Nigel?”

Nigel was the Eater who’d awakened to an explosion-based Admix gift. He was about three years older than me, and looked roughly the same as he did when we were younger. His face had filled out, and he looked sharper and more mature, but the same person I’d seen explode was basically still there. Just in a professional uniform. 

Nigel deadpanned. “Young Nigel?”

“Random nickname,” I said. “I’m sure you didn’t want to be in there any longer either.”

“It’s my duty to serve the Ember family,” Nigel replied. “I consider it an honor.”

“Oh, sure you do.” I walked toward our carriage while the driver climbed down to open the door. “Menstruation, boys, and tea. The time of your life.”

The carriage driver made a face at my words, but Nigel remained as stone-faced as ever. I could never break him, no matter how hard I tried.

Granted, he’d only been assigned to me a few times. Usually, someone else from the castle handled it. But apparently, Nigel had shown enough promise that Van Gallan had begun putting him on “high profile assignments.” Guarding me was apparently that, unfortunately for him.

I climbed into the carriage and immediately lay down in the backseat in the least ladylike manner possible. Nigel got in after me and shut the door.

The carriage started back toward Castle Grey.

“You know what this is like, dude?” I said, pointing at my lower half. “My stomach hurts. I’ve got a headache. I feel lightheaded. It would take very little for me to cry or scream. Maybe both! Like if you said exactly the wrong thing, I might try to bite your throat.” I smiled. “Every. Single. Month. For a year now.” I barked out a laugh. “Fuck.”

Nigel promptly ignored me and looked out the window.

Well, fair. I’d do the same thing.

We sat in silence as the carriage rolled back toward the castle.

I thought about the party. How little I’d connected to anyone in this world. I thought of Scott for a brief moment. Even Miya crossed my mind.

A sudden purge of loneliness trounced my stomach.

“It would be nice to have someone to talk to,” I muttered. 

My gaze darted to Nigel, but he ignored me. His attention was outside. He observed each person we passed with immense care on the minute chance they’d attack us. 

He’d be nice to chat with, if I could get him to open up. We both like swords, and he seems smart. 

But I pushed that idea aside, sighed, and looked out the carriage windows. 

Who’d want to hang out with a brat like me? I’m basically his boss.

I put that idea aside, and resigned myself the loneliness I’d long-since been accustomed to. 

< Previous | Table of Contents | Next >