LostLibrarian

This is the guaranteed chapter for 15/02-22/02.
I'll try and slowly catch back up over the next weeks.

“Uhm… Nice to meet you?” I pressed those words through my tense lips, but the face in front of me stayed emotionless. No answer, not even a moving eyebrow. Just two eyes, darting around, observing my every move. Only the sound of deep and measures breaths cut through the painful silence.

“So… let’s get along?” I started another try, moving my hand toward the nostrils. But an abrupt turn of the head startled me, forcing me a few steps back.

A clear laughter rang out behind me.

“What are you even doing? He won’t bite you.” Rhoslyn questioned, leading another horse toward me.

“But he’s intimidating,” I answered Rhoslyn’s question truthfully. “And it’s my first time riding a horse.”

Truth to be told, there was that one time back on earth when I rode a pony during a birthday party, but the current situation was different. The figure in front of me was a mountain of muscles, its size doubled the friendly pony’s one with ease, and its black coat was adorned with a mix of leather and metal armor.

“That’s why you will ride Attila. He’s a calm one,” she responded with a grin plastered on her face. “He belongs to me and I trained him ever since the both of us were little.”

She bridged the gap between the black horse and me, gave it a pat on the side, and tickled its nose. In return Attila snuggled Rhoslyn, behaving less like a mass of muscles in armor and more like a small kitten.

“My father gifted him to me the day after he caught me training with a sword,” Rhoslyn explained, still caressing the horse. “I would train behind the old barn, all on my own, because I feared my father’s wrath. ‘Nobody will marry a coarse woman’ was my mother’s favorite objection. But he never uttered those words. Instead, he taught me how to care for the horses.”

A shadow clouded her smile for a moment, but was gone before I was able to make any sense of it. Hence I followed her instructions, learned how to mount a horse, and the different ways to hold the reins or press my legs against it. It took tedious hours before I managed to follow Rhoslyn into the nearby woods.

It had been her idea to teach me how to ride a horse. I, as the new leader of the recruits, needed to know these things in order to garner the mercenaries’ respect and enable a peaceful cooperation. Or something along that line. Still half asleep, I had only listened to some of her words before she dragged me away.

But riding through the tranquil forest, watching Rhoslyn on her white horse in front of me, and removing the last few frantic days from my mind had its own benefits.

In the game, travel by horse was skipped via the fast travel function. And the few missions on horseback had been simple rail-shooter segments with no love put into them. So this entire excursion was a novel experience for me. One that forced a smile onto my face as I took another step toward an independent future.

Not to mention that Rhoslyn actually cared for me. It might only be her wish for a successful cooperation that drove her actions, but it still made me happy. She spent time with me on her own accord, and that was enough for now.

Therefore I followed her through thicket and meadows, learned to wade through rivers or direct a horse with only my legs, and gazed at the long silver hair flowing in the wind.

My thoughts wandered around, showing me scenes from the cutscenes. That same silver hair, drenched in blood. A maiden kneeling in defeat, throwing her last breaths against the advancing flood of enemies. Nothing left but a statue. That beautiful flowing hair frozen in stone. The future that might wait for her.

No, I couldn’t let that happen. I had to. Wait. Where was that flowing silver hair? Why was the blue sky in front of me? An impact on my back, neighing, and all the air left my lungs.

“You okay down there?” A worried voice cut through the fog in my brain. “Anything hurt?”

“No. Everything seems fine,” I answered after moving my limbs. Thank god for my resilient body. Or rather, thank my level. “What happened?”

“You slipped and fell down like an idiot.” She sighed. “You even startled Attila.”

“Sorry.” I responded in a hushed voice, ashamed by my misstep. “My thoughts distracted me.”

“A beginner trying to display the grace of a master?” She rolled her eyes, tied her horse to a nearby tree, and made her way to Attila, muttering soothing words with every step.

The game had displayed the sword maiden in her most glorious moments. Proud posture, stubborn gaze, flowing hair. But ever since I had met her in this world, I discovered those other sides of her.

The childish joy during our duel, not unlike a little tomboy playing with sticks. The mischievous smile she displayed during her confrontation with Freiherr Houdin, devoid of any righteousness. Or the longing gaze she displayed whenever she spoke of her father and his teachings.

And the display in front of me displayed yet another new side.

The unyielding warrior had vanished, replaced by a lovely girl caring for a horse. A gaze full of warmth and love, gentle movements, and a soothing voice. Nothing like what I had imagined her to be. Completely different from that maiden in the game, but even more fascinating.

Back then I had wondered whether she had smiled during her death. But it was only now that I realized I hadn’t even known what her smile would have looked like. Not a remorseful or lonely one. But an actual display of delight or peace.

“You can’t treat your horse like this,” Rhoslyn chided me as she came back with Attila. “A warrior’s horse protects its master, hence a master also has to take care of his horse. Horseback riding is communication between you and your horse, a way to forge a bond between the two of you. There isn’t something like ‘a ride where I can let my thoughts wander’. So show more respect toward Attila and me.”

There was nothing to retort, so I stood up, approached the black horse, and reached out my hand once more. Forcing myself not to flinch, I caressed Attila’s nose and apologized, just like Rhoslyn had done before.

“That will do,” Rhoslyn commented with a nod, before tying Attila to the same tree. “Then let’s take a brief break. There was something I wanted to ask you, anyway.”

“Ask me?”

“Yes. You see.” She took a dagger out of her linen bag and moved it over her left hand. “Could you tell me what this is?”

“What this is?” I inspected her hand and saw a tiny cut on her left forefinger, a single red drop sitting on its tip. “That’s just blood, isn’t it?”

“Oh!” A raised eyebrow. “So you know what blood looks like?”

“Of course. Everyone knows what blood looks like. So wha-”

A punch struck my lower abdomen, sending my thoughts into a spiral. A second hit pulled the feet from under me, forcing me into a kneeling position. Cold metal pressed against my throat and stopped any exclamation. A hand grabbed my hair and yanked my head around, forcing my gaze upwards only to meet two ice-cold eyes.

“Then why don’t you tell me once more, how… What was the wording? Ah, yeah. How would a weak recruit be able to throw himself into a horde of enemies and survive?”

What? This again? Didn’t I answer that question already? She was in the room when I told my story, wasn’t she?

“I already told you,” I answered with as little movement as possible. “I used hare fur to-”

“Not that,” Rhoslyn interrupted my answer. “Why do you think I asked you what blood looks like? Because I have fun cutting myself? Those away from the battlefields might not notice, but I know what dried blood on leather looks like. And the holes in your armor were full of it.”

“Did you really think a rushed wash would be enough to remove all traces?” She sighed. “You can clean the front as much as you want, but the edges of each hole displayed the stains behind the polished front. You must have bled like a slaughtered pig. So… how did you survive that?”

I kept quiet. What else could I do? I couldn’t tell her the truth about the system and my skills, and she wouldn’t believe any lie I would make up on the spot. Hence I had to endure her piercing gaze and pretend to be calm.

The seconds went by as a taunting thought in my head rejoiced at yet another new side I had discovered. The actual sword maiden. Not that I could be happy about that.

The steel pressed harder against my throat, only a millimeter away from cutting my flesh. A silent countdown. A last chance to speak.

Given the cooldown of my fortress skill, this cut might even take my life. But I had no way to struggle free without cutting myself, no weapon at hand to counterattack, and no answer I could give. I was at her mercy.

Therefore, I watched her face in front of me in silence. The beautiful face that might end up as the last thing I’ll see in my life. Killed by the person I wanted to protect. How ironic that would be. Even so, it was the same face I had admired in the game. Only so much more expressive.

Like the smile that bloomed on her face.

“That’s good.” She released me and stored the dagger in her bag. “You passed.”

“Passed?” This time my confusion wasn’t played. What did I pass?

“I don’t care about your secret,” she admitted. “Every outstanding warrior has secrets he needs to protect. You, I, my father, everyone. The problems only arise when you talk to others about them. Those who know your secret will use it against you. And you would become a liability.”

She stretched and rotated her shoulders as if she had just done some annoying workout.

“You are interesting,” Rhoslyn continued. “A single recruit can fight against a mob. That story would be enough to join us. But my troops are like family to me. And I will allow no liability near them. If you talk to me, you’ll also talk to others. People like Bernier or that Houdin. People who will turn you into a liability for my men.”

“So if I had talked…”

“I would need to look for a replacement. Glad I won’t have to waste time on that. Praise be to Maeon.” She laughed. Another one of those mischievous laughters. “Well, that’s enough for a break. Let’s keep going.”

“Wait!”

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you…” I tried to find the right words. “Aren’t you afraid that a recruit who can defeat a mob will harm your men?”

“Well, not really. They are stronger than you think.” She answered, her back turned to me. “And if anything happens to them, I’ll kill you.”

Left behind, I watched Rhoslyn’s back as she made her way toward the horses and wondered about the different sides of the sword maiden. The righteousness from the game, the ice-cold warrior, the playful tomboy, the mischievous girl, or the thoughtful woman.

Which side of the sword maiden was her true self?

LostLibrarian

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