Chapter 12 - Eighteen (Patreon)

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The next two years of my life became a parade of political events. 

At first, my parents dragged me along wherever they went. Then they started sending me alone. Then they stopped sending me alone because I kept causing problems.

I threw a boy out a window for trying to kiss me. 

I drank an entire event’s alcohol supply by myself just to get a five-minute buzz. 

I challenged idiots to duels and destroyed them in front of their friends and family.

Needless to say, I’d developed a certain reputation, entirely on purpose. No one in the region really looked at me reverently as a Chosen Child. At best, I was a spoiled, violent brat with an ego. That’s what people were saying behind my back, at least. 

It should have made my family rethink using me for politics.

The problem was they didn’t care.

I was their only child, and they had no other option but to keep putting me in front of people on their behalf. If they couldn’t accompany me themselves, they sent Sonya and a flock of guards. Either way, they kept sending me.

They were used to my antics. When people complained, my parents shrugged, apologized just enough to look civilized, and moved on.

I never went too far. I was only embarrassing enough that no one took me seriously, and, given the reputation and the leery looks people gave me, it worked.

My parents were persistent. I was persistent. We all knew one of us would have to give up someday.

On my eighteenth birthday, my parents threw me a party and invited people from across the country, all the way down to officials in Camden.

So I escalated.

I made Remi blackmail a bunch of mercenaries with bad reputations and large debts into fighting me in front of everyone for my birthday.

And my parents?

They made a show out of it and rolled with the punches.

•

There I was, in light armor, brandishing two swords in the middle of the baron’s throne room with guests all around me, ready to fight.

My tongue slid atop my upper lip as I glared at my opponents with a weakened smile.

Do I let them stab me, or do I beat the shit out of them? Which one will freak people out the most? Hmmm.

“It would be a disservice to my daughter simply to introduce her with words alone,” said Lord Embers. “Scarlet hardly needs an introduction. You all know her, far and wide. She’s a Chosen Child. She’s a Dyad with Light and Dark gifts. There are very few people more impressive than her, and I say that as a baron, not just her loving father.”

Everyone in the room laughed, save for me. His ability to bullshit on the spot was as impressive as it was frustrating.

The recently revamped throne room was filled with people. Politicians, merchants, and high-ranking military officers decorated the halls. Large tables splayed around the middle of the auditorium.

But it was darker than it should have been. A single light source highlighted my general vicinity within the darkened room. My six mercenaries surrounded me. Beyond them, the guests watched me from a distance while the baron continued speaking.

“Under the tutelage of Master Talbert, grandmaster swordsman of the Kingdom of Zalevet and decorated soldier in the Bastion Rebellion, my daughter Scarlet trained from the age of five until now with the sword,” continued the baron.

The crowd murmured.

“She trained under Talbert?”

“I’ve heard the legends. He’s brutal but effective.”

“She must be impressive.”

Annoyed, I glanced around the room.

You left out the part where you forbade anyone from training or helping me once I got my gifts because you’re overprotective and irrational. But hey, whatever works for you. Talk, talk, talk.

“For her birthday, my daughter wished to demonstrate her exceptional prowess to the world. Many of you have heard of what she can do, but seeing is believing.” He gestured to the crowd. “Most of you have traveled from throughout the kingdom to be here today. We are grateful to you. Let’s put any rumors to rest, shall we?” He pointed at me. “Scarlet?”

“It is my honor, sir.” I bowed.

“The castle healer will be on standby if there are any mortal wounds, as he has the gift to mend flesh and bone to what they once were. Everyone should feel free to try hard, but no deaths, please. I’d appreciate it.” The baron paused for dramatic effect. “Begin!”

Guards lit torches surrounding the area. The dark room brightened, and the partygoers were suddenly illuminated. There were probably a hundred people in the room, maybe more. I heard them walk in while I was dramatically hidden away, but actually seeing them was an entirely different thing. The remarkable hearing I developed as a baby from staring at the ceiling and listening to footsteps actually paid off.

Light leather greaves covered my legs up to the knees, leaving my thighs bare for movement. A chainmail skirt sat at my waist beneath black fabric, and flexible leather hugged my torso beneath a dark-plated breastplate. My shoulders were guarded, but from the biceps down, my arms were free.

The armor was more of a costume than a necessity. I had my light abilities, but if I used them too well, the baron would start asking questions. Talbert and my friends had spent the last two years secretly helping me train against his orders. I could not expose them just to show off.

He had forbidden people from training me, not from letting me “self-study.” Since he already knew I was an impulsive genius, it was surprisingly easy to convince him I had figured out a few things on my own. But there was a line, and I knew how to dance atop it.

Shall we, then?

The mercenaries swirled around me. They were all different sizes, wearing varying levels of armor and carrying diverse arrays of weapons.

One held a spear.

Three had swords and shields.

One used two hammers.

Finally, the last guy used dual swords.

They spoke to me in voices only I could hear.

“We beat you, and all the debts you bought from us are cleared,” said the man carrying the spear. “For good.”

“It’s what the baron promised. He’s a good man. Isn’t trying to blackmail us. Did it, then asked for our help,” said the man with two swords. He wore a helmet. While speaking, he pointed the sword in his left hand at me. “Said as long as we don’t chop off your head or stab you in the heart, your healer can save you. They’ll intervene if you’re about to die, but you’re an Eater. We’ve heard the rumors. We’re not holding back.”

All of them nodded in agreement. 

I rolled my eyes and looked at my “father.”

Funny how he isn’t worried about me now, but he had a panic attack when I got my gifts. Guess I’ve worn him down a little, at least. The him of three years ago would never act like this. Guess he is getting a little tired.

But he was also keenly aware of my massive barfight six months prior, where I beat up over ten armed men with my bare hands, all of which was validated by his guards. It earned me a “cool down” in the castle cells, but the baron knew what I was capable of. And the mercenaries were right; I had gifts, so even the worst wound, save for a decapitation or a stab through a major artery, wouldn’t kill me instantly.

The baron was trying to call my bluff. He knew I’d fight them, beat them easily, and he’d turn things around to show everyone how amazing I was. And in the worst case, if I were about to die, he’d stop things. It would be a lick to my ego I may never recover from, and he’d use that, too. 

My attempt at disrupting “my party” was being used against me, and it annoyed the shit out of me.

Yeah, I’m not letting them stab me. I’ve gotta be a psycho, or this’ll be my loss. 

My tongue rubbed the top of my lip. “Come at me then.”

The six men tightened the distance between them and me. Those three carrying shields bashed their swords against them in a rhythmic pattern. 

The crowd cheered. The baron and his wife watched me from their thrones.

Steps sounded at my rear.

I stepped to the right, ducking as I did.

The flat of a blade swung over my head.

I shifted my foot.

The weight of a body toppled over it. The person attacking yelped as he crashed to the floor. It was one of the shieldmen.

I smirked.

With the tip of my blade, I carefully severed the strap to his shield.

The front of my right foot tipped forward, hooking the shield. I flipped it into the air.

Before it could get too high, I rotated my body and swiftly brought my left foot down. The heel caught right above the shield, and it shot downward.

The metal landed hard on the back of the man’s skull. Even though he was wearing a helmet, the force was enough to put him down for a few moments.

The crowd was stunned into silence.

“Oh, hell yeah!” a voice shouted. It was Alexander. I couldn’t see him, but it was nice to know my friends were watching me.

“Close in on her! Don’t let her pick us off one at a time!” the man with two swords bellowed. He pointed with his weapons as his attitude grew increasingly serious. “This is our chance to start over! All we’ve got to do is beat this little girl!”

The crowd ramped up their rowdiness once more.

“Attacking me from behind first? Really?” I chided my opponents. “Too afraid to face me head-on in a fair fight?”

“Tell ’em, girl!”

I rolled my eyes at Alexander’s additional outburst.

A spear lunged toward my head out of the side of my vision.

I narrowly ducked. My hair remained in place. The spear parted the strands. The tip’s sharpness even severed a few.

I brought up my swords into an X-shape. The spear caught between them.

Leaning forward, I moved the blade toward the man’s hand. It shredded the wood. Splinters frayed off. They rained to the ground like earthly hail.

Faster than the man could react, my blades caught his fingers. The tips on his left hand were severed. Blood dripped. He dropped the spear in agony.

Clyde can put them back on. He’ll be fine. Now I don’t have to worry about him.

The two other shield bearers rushed toward me. I didn’t have time to react.

Instead, I followed my momentum ahead.

My back lifted over the spear user’s shoulder and glided down his own until I was directly behind him, away from harm.

I flicked out a sharp kick backward.

The contact sent the spearman forward. He stumbled as a trail of blood sprayed the floor from his mangled fingertips.

The shieldmen moved around him. They tripped, and their paces faltered.

The core of my inner muscle tightened. What felt like strings from my arms and legs pulled together as a warm energy surged through my body.

Black tendrils snaked out of my back. The crowd shouted at that development.

The shieldmen froze in place.

A poor choice of action.

My tendrils lashed out quickly. They pierced through both shields, ripping them from their owners’ hands.

They shot past them.

Then I pressed the momentum back suddenly.

The edges of the shields surged, hitting the backs of their former holders’ skulls.

The two men fell forward. Neither moved.

Spearman attempted to stand.

I sprinted forward quickly. The weight of my swords lightened as I enhanced my body with my light gift.

Gripping both blades together, I kept them on the flat sides so their strike would be non-lethal.

The swords struck his helmet, and a dent formed on the side.

The spearman lifted off the ground, traveling some distance until he slammed into a nearby wall.

The crowd was barely able to part in time.

Quickly, I turned around, bearing my swords.

Clang!

I deflected the man’s dual blades.

Behind him, the mercenary with two hammers came up the side. His weapons rose like uppercuts.

I dodged back.

The dual swordsman went to stab me.

Tendrils I’d let linger in the ground lurched forth through the floor.

The black strands wrapped around the dual swordsman’s body. He grunted at the motion, restrained.

My final opponent was the hammer man. Purposely, I saved the dual swordsman for last.

I braced the sword in my right hand over my head. My left hand pointed forward. I smiled. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t chip my swords.”

The hammer man glared.

I plunged forward with an overhead cut.

A hammer went to intercept it.

At the last moment, because I had deliberately made the cut weak, I diverted it.

With my free hand, I brought the edge of my other sword forward.

It connected with the back of the hammer man’s hand.

Sliding it across, I lacerated his palm deep between his pinky finger and wrist.

The hammers dropped. “You bi—”

Using the momentum of the slice, I swirled around, bracing my swords in the air. The flats hit his temples hard on both sides, cutting off his words.

The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He went slack, and his body plummeted to the floor.

Quick and efficient. And flashy. Remember me, onlookers. Remember and fear me!

Enormous cheers attacked my eardrums, much to my annoyance.

That doesn’t sound like fear at all…

“Finish him!”

“She’s amazing!”

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Ewww! Blood!”

“She didn’t kill any of them.”

“Wonderful!”

“Finish him!” the crowd shouted, unified. “Fiiiiiniiiiiish hiiiiiim!”

Okay, I need to kick this up a notch. Time to go full psycho. Fuck you all for making me do this.

I walked before the final man. My tendrils dissipated. He stumbled forward, his breathing staggered.

“How long have you been using two swords?” I spun both of mine in my hands in an intricate pattern.

“Longer than you’ve been alive, pup.”

His swords swung at me.

I deflected none of them. Instead, I merely watched them sail by as I evaded them with ease.

I then intercepted his non-dominant hand with my blade.

Shunk!

My stroke cleanly removed his left hand at the wrist with accuracy honed from nearly a decade of obsessive practice.

Blood squirted into the air with pressure, much like water suddenly gushing from a pipe. The man’s reaction was delayed, but he dropped to his knees nonetheless. A fraction of a second ticked by. Pain passed through his eyes. He screamed.

“My haaaaand!!!” The man stared at the stump. “Gaaaaaaah!”

The cheers around me stopped the second I lopped it off. Everyone was focused on his agony. I could feel the baron behind me, about ready to speak, calling off the fight.

Nope! Not yet. Didn’t go full psycho yet.

I grabbed his hand off the floor and threw it at him. “Here you go!”

The man looked up. He saw the shape coming at him and tried to catch it—with his missing hand.

His hand sailed past him and hit the floor right beside him.

I giggled.

The man stared in horror.

There was silence in the entire crowd.

The mercenary was sweating. Pain wrecked his face, but he didn’t scream. His eyes were on his missing hand, staring at it like it was some sort of cursed object.

“Sleep tight.”

I roundhouse-kicked his head, sending him flying and knocking him out.

My swords dropped out of my hands, and I yawned, stretching my arms out wide. I then snapped my fingers and pointed at Clyde. “They need some help over here, yeah?”

Still silence in the whole room, but Clyde came running.

I stepped toward the baron and baroness. Blood caked my body. “I think I’ll change now.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned away.

Still quiet.

For a bit.

“I think it is safe to say—” The baron began, his voice ringing steadily throughout the room. “—my daughter is in a league of her own.”

Murmurs of agreement fluttered about as I headed toward the exit. Guards helped Clyde pull bodies away from the floor. Servants with mops cleaned up the blood while another dropped the severed fingers from the spearman into the same water bucket.

“Though my daughter is ferocious, she has a soft side. Now that she’s introduced herself as a warrior, let her do it one more time as a woman. We shall clear the room and prepare the food. Then we shall see her again, but for now, feel free to drink.”

At his words, waiters came bursting from multiple entrances. Servants lit numerous little candles. The room brightened up more than before.

He was trying to restore the atmosphere.

And for the most part, he succeeded. At least tonally.

But based on the eyes watching me as I left the room with my maids in tow, there was something in many of the people I’d wanted for years now.

Fear.

•

“Get her cleaned up! Come, come!” called Sonya. “We must get her out of this sticky armor and into something more suitable! Quickly, girls!”

Armor fell to the floor. The noise split through the chatter as the women stripped me bare.

“An impressive display, Lady Scarlet,” said one of the maids.

“I was terrified when you cut off his hand,” mentioned another.

“You went overboard and came off like a criminal.” Sonya moved in front of me. She took a rag and dotted blood off my face. “You may have ruined your party.”

“Do you promise?”

Sonya frowned. “Think of the lord and lady.”

“I was! Why do you think I did that?”

Two maids released my chest piece.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” I breathed out.

Sonya’s face contorted. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I put a hand to my chest. “The gear was pushing my tits into my lungs.”

The maids behind me giggled.

“Don’t be vulgar, dear.” Sonya pointed behind her at a tub. “Get her in the bath. Clean the gore off quickly. Time’s wasting!”

They all forced me into a steaming hot bath. My limbs were scrubbed quickly while my hair was dampened, brushed, and styled. Any fragments inside, be they unwanted matter or fluids, were removed.

“Quickly! Dry her off! Get her changed! The guests are waiting!”

I was pulled from the tub as quickly as I was placed inside. Towels immediately hit my body. They scrubbed at me so hard, it felt like they were rubbing off a layer of skin.

“Lift your legs,” a maid ordered me.

“Lift your arms,” another asked.

“Move over,” said a third.

“Get between the legs. You never know how the night will go,” joked the first.

“Not a hair to be seen. An easy job!”

The maids laughed in unison.

Embarrassment flooded through me.

“Enough chit-chat. Work quickly, ladies,” urged Sonya.

I complied with all their requests. After maybe ten minutes, I was fully clothed in a brilliant red dress.

Looking in the mirror, it was hard to believe this was my body. Even after all this time, Scarlet’s skin still felt borrowed.

Red hair framed my face. The dress hugged every curve I’d spent years shaping through training, diet, and the unfair advantages of being an Eater. Fit, fierce, and objectively beautiful.

Gods, I’m so hot. Felix would have approved. Too bad it’s me, dammit.

“Let me look at you.” Sonya stood before me. She blocked my view of the mirror. “Beautiful!” She smiled. Her arms gestured me back toward the door from which I came in. “Come! Guide her out! Back to the ball. Let’s go, let’s go!”

•

The fun part of the event was over.

I now had to metaphorically whore myself out to people, pretend to care about what they said, and smile through a party thrown for me that wasn’t really meant for me in the slightest.

Well, it was in a sense.

People generally married after they turned sixteen, but I was such a pariah that any marriage talks were killed off by my actions or rumors.

My parents, fearing I’d die an old hag and miss out on my prime baby-making years—which for them meant before I was twenty—basically used my eighteenth birthday as an excuse to get every noble son around the country in one place to try and pry my legs *ahem* heart open.

So gross…

Annoyed at that reality, I emerged back into the guest-filled ballroom.

The tables had been moved away from the walls toward the center. Arrays of food and drink sat upon them. Servants moved about, serving the guests delicacies from the lands. A band was performing. Their stringed instruments mixed with brass and drums to create a delightfully folksy tune one could easily dance along with.

“My daughter returns!” the baron alerted the room upon seeing me, breaking off a conversation with a local official.

The crowd was caught up in the commotion, and their attention gravitated toward me. I expected fear in many of their eyes. When they last saw me, I was brandishing swords and covered in blood.

But now…

“She looks different without her armor.”

“What a gorgeous woman.”

“A treat for the eyes.”

“Wouldn’t mind plowing her somewhere private.”

“That dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, eh?”

“Oh, her eyes are gorgeous in that dress! And her hair!”

“Stunning.”

“What a chest...”

“Lovely.”

“A beautiful warrior. The full package. Yes, she will be my bride.”

“I must have her.”

“Where’s the booze?”

“I think I stepped in blood.”

“Quiet down!”

Well, there goes all my hard work from, like, thirty minutes ago. Son of a bitch!

But a part of me was… embarrassed and glad to hear all the compliments, even the objectifying ones.

Honestly, this is the best part about being a beautiful woman. The admiration. The sheer respect from simply being pretty and existing. The sheer attention and borderline reverence is intoxicating.

“Now that our purpose for the ball has returned, we must bring out the more expensive liquor!” The baron clapped his hands. “And to my hired band, an upbeat tune suited for dancing, if you will.”

Wow, he’s in rare form tonight! I’ve never seen him act like this. He’s a natural-born salesman.

Music blared.

Delighted people pushed past and moved to the dance floor. Suddenly, there was a crowd of semi-drunk people, fresh off watching a hack-and-slash fight, dancing where blood had once spilled.

People in this world are so weird.

I watched them all, fascinated, as I tried to step away and hide in the crowd.

Suddenly, my hand was taken from me, and I was abruptly dragged forward to the dance floor against my will.

My eyes widened in surprise. I reached for my sword, but tensed up. I didn’t have one. I was in a dress. And this wasn’t a threat; it was a boy.

“You were brilliant tonight,” expressed the culpret. “Terrific swordsmanship. And dare I say, you look lovely.”

My current captor was a young man with sandy brown hair slicked back atop his head. His face was clean-shaven. Murky brown eyes peered out at me. His square-shaped head gave his jaw texture. He was big, but not in a fat way. More of a college-linebacker style. His voice was gruff, but there was a poetic nature to it. And clearly, he was an extroverted guy by the way he snatched me up before anyone else could talk to me. And after he’d watched me chop a bunch of people up. He was brave, at least.

My head dipped slightly as I was swayed against my will to the rhythm of the band. “I appreciate the compliment.”

He gripped my left hand in his, and his other was on the small of my back. Though his face was confident, I could feel his palms shaking. They betrayed his nervousness.

“My name is Wes Caterwault,” the stranger, well, Wes, told me. “My family breeds horses and builds wagons. We’re the largest distributor of both in the country. We’re from Port Prosper, mind you.”

“Impressive,” I remarked, trying my best not to insult him since he was clearly holding in a lot just to dance. “You must be very proud of them. Do you plan to take over the business?”

He droned on about his future plans and whatevers. I hardly listened. He barely looked me in the eye. All his confidence was spent dragging me onto the dance floor. Didn’t have an ounce left in him afterward.

The song stopped.

We parted. I bowed, as did he.

“Would you like to continue this—” Wes began before he was cut off.

“Good evening, my lady.” My new kidnapper stepped in front of him before Wes could finish. He grabbed my hands and pushed me forward into a dance right as the new song started, startling me. He flashed me a smile. “Lewis Macklemore.”

I forced a smile back. “Charmed.”

This type of offense went on and on from person to person for a while, until a hand unlike the others pulled me away.

A woman? Ah! Much better! Where are we going? Who are you?

The female hand dragged me from the dance floor. I watched a bundle of blonde hair in a dress lead me toward a table where many other women sat. I was placed in a chair, shockingly, as I examined my new reality.

Oh Gods, a table full of girls. Oh, wait, that’s me, too. Shit. And I know these girls. Dammit. That’s Rebecca.

“That dress looks absolutely lovely on you,” said Rebecca Lumel, the daughter of a fabric merchant in the city. Her family had a monopoly, so they were very wealthy.

She was probably my “closest friend” in the high-society world. As in, we found ourselves spending a lot of time together at events; she liked me, and I tolerated her because she wasn’t totally annoying.

All her friends were, though. Except one.

“Oh.” I looked down at myself. “Thank you.”

“The Gods chose to make all your fat go to your chest, it seems,” said Lacey Bondon, another one of my “friends.” She was built like a stick with dark hair but had the prettiest face I’d admittedly ever seen. “Your body is made to draw in the men.”

“And yours was made to eat food off of,” I said back.

“And has been.” Lacey drank from a glass of wine. Her eyes were half-closed like she was on the verge of sleep. “One could say I’m quite the treat.”

I snorted while Rebecca’s face turned red. She reprimanded Lacey, who ignored her and kept drinking.

Lacey’s family was in charge of shipbuilding in the Hopeful Lake area. We were a massive territory with twelve distinct cities. They were all large, with Water’s Bastion being the largest. Needless to say, boats were king, and her family was wealthy. But Lacey, like me, was a bit of a loner. And we had a similar sense of humor, so we got along fine. We weren’t great friends who sought each other out, but she was easy to be around. And she got the best reactions out of Rebecca.

“Neither of you are going to be wives if you act like this!” hissed Rebecca.

“Good,” Lacey and I said in unison.

Rebecca pouted. “You’re going to die old and alone.”

“Promise?” we said again.

Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “I’m already engaged. It’s a good thing. For our families.”

Lacey looked up. “Oh, Alexander’s coming this way.”

Rebecca perked up. She started playing with her hair. “H-He is?”

Lacey grinned.

Rebecca turned bright red. “You’re mean!”

“Tell that to your fiancé.”

I stood up. “I’m going to get some air, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s why I made her save you. So you could.” Lacey lazily pointed at the dance floor. “You looked like you were going to stab someone. And the men were too blinded by your beauty to remember that you easily could and would.”

“Yeah.” Rebecca stared ahead for a second, then gave me a thumbs-up. “Good job, by the way! Very scary.”

“Thank you!” I replied with a smile.

They both waved me off, and I took their “gift” and ran with it.

Are we better friends than I thought?

At each corner of the ballroom, the building rounded into small sections with lit chandeliers overhead. Two doors were set at the corners leading to balconies on both sides of the room.

I headed toward a particularly deserted one.

Outside, I leaned my arms over the side as the crisp, moist air dampened my skin.

“Only a few more hours to go,” I said to myself. “Then it’s over. Just another day.”

And I was so, so wrong to think that.

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