Interlude - Fighter
Cecilia Gullwing wiped her sword clean with a rag that was increasingly more and more red. By the time she was done, the sword shone as brilliant as a freshly produced mirror, but the rag no longer retained any of its former white color. She loved to look at the blade. Simple, yet elegant. It wasn't curved, like a Qinatan sword, nor broad like those from the Scagisles. The blade was thin, but still had a distinct weight to it. Few could carry it one-handed, and fewer still could actually fight with it.
She slid the sword back into its sheath and stood straight. She clipped the sheath to the holder on the back of her armor and stood at attention as Captain Bertrand walked into the room alongside his entourage, the Dragonslayer Guild. She had never seen him so disgusted, so ready to fight. His face held a grim determination, a look that said he wouldn't stop until the job was done.
Flanking him were but two members of the Dragonslayer Guild. The Guild was made up of those who Bertrand had personally trained in the years since he joined the Imperial Guard. There were seventeen members of the Guild, all accomplished dragon slayers before they were brought in and taught Bertrand’s methods. Rumor had it no member of the Dragonslayer Guild was truly a member of the Imperial Army, but answerable only to the Emperor himself. Even the Emperor’s Guard was considered a part of the Army.
Cecilia couldn't even guess what they were doing in Kepton when there was a dragon on the loose in human form. Word was the Guild was being sent to Endawa to kill it.
The rest of her fellow soldiers were lined up beside her, all of them obviously nervous. Cecilia felt nothing of that sort, but she was very anxious. One of the Dragonslayers escorting Bertand was Rawley, her ex. She hadn't seen him in months, ever since he was appointed to the Guild. He glanced at her, and suppressed a grin almost immediately. She didn't return it. What spark he thought they'd had was dead and gone, and Cecilia felt no desire to try and revive it.
"You are the finest the Empire has to offer," Bertrand started, "men and women both who've risked life and limb. You know battle, you know all that is necessary is killing the enemy. Your resolve is stronger than any of your opponents, and you know this because you have survived. You have proven yourselves the greatest throughout this world.
“It is because you are the greatest -- the finest -- that I am here now. You all know what the Guild is. You all know what it means to be invited into it.” He stopped and looked directly at Cecilia, for some reason. She felt a bead of sweat on her forehead. “Entry to the Guild is a great honor among the Imperial Army, and it is not given lightly. The Guild is the elite unit in the Imperial Army, and to be allowed this opportunity is once in a lifetime.
“Therefore, we will only be choosing one of you.”
Cecilia looked at her compatriots and saw them looking at one another as well. There were nothing but confused faces and looks of concern on all of them. She felt it herself, and most likely looked it, which wasn’t a common occurrence all on its own. Cecilia Gullwing prided herself on never allowing herself to feel confused, let alone look it. All the members of her unit were capable, were worthy of entrance to the Dragonslayer Guild.
But she wanted it, strongly.
No doubt the others did, as well. They had all heard stories of what the Dragonslayer Guild was allowed, what they were required to do, and it was nothing more than the fairy tales of old brought forward to modern times. Knights killing great beasts that attack the innocent, saving the Empire from utter ruination. It wasn’t something one believed possible much anymore, but the Guild did it on a regular basis.
Cecilia felt a great deal of excitement well up inside her, something she hadn’t felt since she was a girl. Those days, when she wanted so greatly to be a knight like her father and mother, to uphold the legacy of the Gullwing name. She gave her all -- fighting, training, seeking out an ‘enemy’ to take out and prove her worth -- and only through her dedication did she manage to succeed.
Her parents hadn’t wanted it, however. They felt that they had fought enough, that their daughter should be a poet or anything other than a soldier, but she saw only shame and dishonor in the paths they wanted for her. She didn’t just want to uphold their reputation, she needed to. And she felt that need in every endeavour. From joining the Imperial Army to even her relationship with Rawley.
But this was different. She had already upheld her family name, now she wanted to carve something for her own name. So that her future daughter could strive to live up to the achievements of Cecilia Gullwing. She couldn’t imagine anything better.
“Kepton, as you know, is full of thieves and scoundrels,” Bertrand continued. “A simple task, but the first step to deciding which of you will be given the honor of becoming the next member of the Guild.” He motioned to his two flanking companions. “Lieutenants Rawley and Berkshire, as well as my other lieutenants, will accompany you on missions I have prepared for you.”
Cecilia understood the need to have a watcher, but she had a sinking feeling that Rawley would end up as hers. She didn’t need that as she tried her damnedest to join the Guild. But she told herself that it wouldn’t be a concern. She would overcome that obstacle just as she had all the others in her life.
Cecilia Gullwing decided right then and there that she would become a member of the Dragonslayer Guild.
Naturally, Cecilia’s first task was a simple, very annoying task: Surviving a conversation with Rawley.
“How’ve you been?” he asked as he leaned against the balcony railing. They were standing watch over the northeastern part of Kepton, supposedly the greatest hive for criminal activity. Cecilia had never been to Kepton before, but she’d read the reports. The crime syndicates in this part of the world were notorious for keeping out of trouble and still accomplishing their goals. “Well?”
“Hmm?” She had genuinely forgotten about him for a moment as she watched the streets. They weren’t wearing their armor, so anyone who looked up at the balcony would simply see a man and a woman sitting at a table on a balcony, nothing strange or out of place about anything. She still couldn’t get over the feeling that the criminals knew who and what they were, however.
“I asked how you’ve been. You haven’t really said anything since we got here. I was kinda hoping for a peaceful lunch with a beautiful woman, honestly.” He finished the line with a cheeky smirk.
She let slip a grin of her own. “That’s not why we’re here, Rawley.”
He gestured to her. “And yet you’re wearing that delightful dress.”
A dress she felt very uncomfortable in. Cecilia had never been one to dress up. Not that she couldn’t. In fact, despite her discomfort in attire such as the simple black minidress and heels, she had the look of a woman who wore this sort of outfit on a daily basis. Her hair was let loose from the ponytail she generally wore it in and her make-up was perfect. Her mother had always driven her to dress and act like a proper lady of the court, though she always had to fight against her daughter’s desire to get out and fight the bradts that commonly plagued their village.
Still, even she had to admit, she couldn’t ignore that the compliment had made her feel somewhat proud. “You know exactly why I’m wearing this dress,” she replied. “And you know why we’re here.”
He sighed. “I do. I really do.”
“How is it you’re taking this so casually?”
He took a drink of wine. “You know that’s just who and what I am. I don’t take anything too seriously.”
She cut a piece of her steak and swallowed it almost whole. “Yes, I know that. I just don’t understand how. You’re a member of the Dragonslayer Guild, the elite of the elite of the Imperial Army, and yet you treat a stakeout like a casual meal between friends.”
He shrugged. “Is there any reason it can’t be both? We’re still friends, despite not being romantically involved anymore.”
She almost choked on her steak as she laughed. “That’s… debatable.”
He smiled again. “Hey, it’s how I see it.”
She had to admit, it was a nice way of looking at it. “Still. We have a mission here, a responsibility, and you act like it’s nothing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Of course I do. But not just because that’s how I feel anyway.” He took another drink. “It’s also how we need to act.” He leaned forward and pointed at a pair of men standing in the doorway to a small house. “See them over there? They’re lookouts. They know what to look for when it comes to undercover knights. They don’t even need to see our faces, they can tell by our body language or by our subtle movements.” He sat back again. “Act like a commoner, and they know you’re not. Act like somebody who doesn’t give a shit, they can’t tell the difference.” He gestured to her. “You’re sitting there squared shoulders, you look like you’re begging to fight, not like a woman in a daring black minidress having lunch with a handsome man.”
She laughed again. “What makes you think you’re handsome?”
He popped a grape in his mouth and said, “Please,” as he chewed. He swallowed and continued, “The point is that how you act is just as important as what you look like when you’re observing criminals. There’s no way they won’t find you out when you act like you do.”
She wasn’t quite sure she truly understood what he was getting at. She couldn’t really act like anything other than the soldier she was. Rawley, on the other hand, had always been this way. He’d never acted like a soldier. Even in battle, he acted more like he was playing a game of fencing with friends rather than slaughtering his enemies. Cecilia knew she was taking lives and acted accordingly, shutting her emotions off and letting everything feed her resolve afterward.
And yet, Rawley had been welcomed into the Guild while she was merely the best the Imperial Army had to offer. Maybe there was something to his approach after all.
Not that she felt she could do exactly what he was saying. She didn’t know how to not look like a soldier, for instance. Perhaps she needed to get herself more accustomed to outfits like her dress, to formal gatherings rather than formal engagements with the enemy. Maybe being a member of the Guild was less a warrior’s calling than she thought.
She’d work on it.
For now, she merely watched the two men Rawley had pointed out. She didn’t look at them directly, but kept watch out of the corner of her eye. They were smoking cigarettes, talking and occasionally laughing. They seemed more capable of being casual than she felt she was, much to her chagrin.
And then they moved out of the way of another pair, a man and a woman. The man appeared in his fifties, and though his eyes were open wide, he obviously couldn’t see. He didn’t use a cane, however, and seemed to know exactly where he was going. The woman looked a great deal younger, possibly in her early twenties, and she obviously wasn’t his date. No, Cecilia could tell this woman was a warrior, like her.
“Nobody knows his name,” Rawley said, obviously having taken notice of what was happening. “His subordinates call him the boss, but that’s nothing, really.”
“He’s blind?” she asked.
Rawley nodded. “Blind, but the man is amazingly capable of getting around. He’s based somewhere around here, but we don’t know much about his operation beside that. The most we know is that it reaches across the Empire."
"And the woman?"
"Mercenary. Yelena Something-Or-Another, I can't remember. Former Imperial, she left the Army about ten years ago."
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Ten years ago?" She looked back out at the couple. "She doesn't look any more than twenty-three at the oldest."
Rawley nodded. "You're right, she's actually twenty-one. She was conscripted at the age of seven, served for four years and then deserted."
That didn't sound right at all. "We don't conscript children! That's…"
"Amoral, illegal, against the Articles of Recognized Warfare? You're right. As is taking people from other nations and selling them as slaves, but it's still a common practice. The Empire is always trying to do the thing that will ensure our own survival, and that's not always pretty." He gestured to Yelena. "She was seven years old when the Plains Tribe slaughtered her entire village. She managed to kill thirty of them on her own, to the point they were begging our soldiers from protection."
Cecilia almost didn't want to believe him, but it sounded too far-fetched to be false. A seven year old soldier, killing men twice her height and three or four times her weight. The circumstances behind her entry to military service would be enough of a reason to keep her a secret, so it was no surprise Cecilia didn't know about her.
But how had Rawley found out?
"How do you know so much?" she asked.
He plopped another grape in his mouth. "Captain Bertrand tried to recruit her to the Guild. They had a history, it seems, though I don't know shit about that. She's the reason for at least one of those scars on his face."
Cecilia shuddered. Captain Bertrand was a capable fighter, almost a dancer on the field of battle, and the idea of a woman -- no, a girl -- injuring him was downright absurd. She could think of nothing more outlandish, but, once again, Rawley’s story was too crazy to be a pile of lies.
She had to admit, the woman interested her more than “the boss”.
“Are we going to…” she cut herself off when she saw Rawley throwing off his dinner jacket and jumping from the balcony. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d been carrying his twin daggers on his back, hidden beneath the jacket. He drew them as he landed on the ground in front of “the boss” and the woman.
I’ll admit, that’s somewhat impressive, Cecilia thought. Still, a warning would have been nice! Cecilia jumped from her own chair, briefly considered jumping from the balcony, but decided against it. The last thing she needed was to break her legs by trying to land in high heels. Nothing would ruin her chances of entering the Guild faster than destroying her limbs on her first mission.
By the time she reached the ground, Rawley and Yelena were both standing at the ready, weapons drawn. He appeared to have taken a cut to the cheek, while she didn’t seem to have taken any damage whatsoever. “The boss” had disappeared entirely, most likely somewhere his two lookouts had taken him. Cecilia drew her own sword, then ditched her heels. They would be a hindrance in a fight, and she needed any advantage she could take if Yelena was actually as capable a fighter as Rawley described.
Yelena stood a good fifteen feet away, holding a collapsable lance in one hand. She didn’t look like the talking sort, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Cecilia herself didn’t speak during an engagement. Yelena looked at Cecilia, then at Rawley. The woman seemed to be examining them, taking in everything about them with nothing but a quick glance. If that was truly how she managed to succeed, then Cecilia had to give her some credit.
That thought was pushed aside as Yelena jumped forward, thrusting forward with the lance. She lunged first at Rawley, clipping his sleeve with the tip of the lance. He merely ducked into a roll and tried to hit her with his daggers, but managed nothing more than swiping at air. Cecilia swung her sword and realized just too late that she was about to hit absolutely nothing. Yelena Something-Or-Another was fast.
Rawley was quickly back on his feet, swinging and slashing, doing his best to land even a glancing blow, but Yelena twirled the lance and managed to block each and every strike. Then she leapt upward, pointed the tip of the lance down and was ready to send it directly into Rawley’s head until Cecilia pulled him out of the way.
“Thanks, love,” he said with a wink.
Cecilia didn’t return it, however. She was focused on Yelena, studying her as closely as possible. The woman was light on her feet, just plain light in general. She had the body type of a twelve year old, stood only about five foot two and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. She knew just when to shift her weight to strike harder or faster when she needed it, and was faster than most runners.
There was now no doubt in Cecilia’s mind that this woman truly was the soldier that Rawley had described her as. The look in her eyes explained she cared for nothing but the mission. Whatever “the boss” was paying her was insignificant because the fight she was engaged in was what she was there for. This woman had never had a childhood friend, had never had a first love, had never even given a second thought to anything.
This woman was an obstacle, and Cecilia had to remove her.
Cecilia steeled herself. She grabbed one of Rawley’s daggers and twirled it in her fingers. It was less a tactical move and more a taunt. Hopefully, that surprised Yelena enough to give her a slight edge. She ran toward the woman, her bare feet almost gliding over every loose rock in the courtyard. Unfortunately, just as she was about to swing, Yelena moved, jumping upward. Cecilia brought her sword up just in time to block the lance before it slid into her skull. She thrust the dagger outward, toward the woman, but only managed to hit the air.
Yelena dropped to a couch and tried to uproot Cecilia by sweeping her legs with the lance, but instead she jumped out of the way and swung her sword, just managing to cut the space her head had been just after she moved. The woman jumped backward, toward a tree. She grabbed onto it, mouthed some words, then kicked away from the tree with both legs. Like an arrow, she shot straight forward, pointing the lance out. Cecilia cursed as she dodged the attack, because the woman had managed to knick her on the arm. Blood coursed down her arm, almost ruining her grip on the dagger.
She realized what Yelena had done. The woman had used some sort of spell to enhance her speed. Either the woman was a magic user, or else she’d been told one of the easy spells that even those untrained in the ways of magic were still capable of. Cecilia had never found a use for spells, felt they took away any sort of challenge. She much preferred the simple pleasures of physical combat. That she saw that same fire in Yelena’s eyes meant the woman felt exactly the same, but used simple spells to make her physically more capable than she was.
But no sound had come from Yelena’s mouth. She was either mute or quiet. Either way, Cecilia knew her plan of attack.
She dragged the tip of her blade on the stone beneath her feet, creating a small amount of sparks. Yelena did the same with her lance, almost as if she wanted to mirror Cecilia. That indicated a sense of pride that must have cropped up somewhere in the middle of the fight. That gave her another way into fighting this woman, a way to defeat a soldier who had proven herself even stronger than Captain Bertrand.
Pride goeth before the fall, after all.
Cecilia leapt forward, swinging her sword. Yelena brought the lance up to block it, but she wasn’t ready for Cecilia’s second attack. Cecilia had planned the swing to fail, planned for the block, and brought the dagger down into Yelena’s right hand, her dominant hand. No doubt the woman was ambidextrous, like any proficient soldier, but the loss of the dominant hand would still be a major handicap.
Naturally, Yelena shifted the lance to her other hand after pulling the dagger out and throwing it to the ground. Her eyes almost glowed, and Cecilia could see the fire behind them was renewed with a hatred for her and her alone. Cecilia had wounded her, hurt her in a way that she had probably never before experienced. This unique mercenary soldier was now just like any other.
The lance lunged forward, forcing Cecilia to jump backwards, landing on her knee just beside Rawley, who hadn’t really felt like standing up, apparently. He’s probably enjoying me twirling around in a dress, she thought, cynically. She pushed the thought away and grabbed his remaining dagger.
She got to her feet just in time to block the lance from embedding itself in her chest. She shifted her legs to take the weight of the other woman pushing against her, trying her damnedest to drive that lance into her now mortal enemy. Cecilia used the woman’s newfound anger to her advantage and brought the dagger down into Yelena’s left arm, causing her fingers to twitch and the lance to fall out of her hand.
Yelena dropped to her knees in defeat. Cecilia almost felt sorry for the woman, who did nothing but stare at her fallen lance. “I was told you were the greatest fighter in the Imperial Army,” Cecilia said to the woman. “You proved that today.”
Yelena looked up at the one who bested her. No words escaped her mouth, no sounds of any kind. The fire was still there, however. The fire of a fighter.
And then she picked up the lance and thrust it into Cecilia’s stomach.
The breath left her, almost sucked straight out of her lungs. Apparently Yelena hadn’t been as defeated as Cecilia had thought. All the while she thought she was leading the woman to sacrifice her life for her pride, Yelena had actually been enacting that very same strategy on her.
But it had still brought her directly to her downfall. Yelena was too close, her hands full holding the lance and pushing it into Cecilia’s stomach. Cecilia still had her sword in her hand, and all she needed to do was swing. So very simple. So very easy. She didn’t even need to put that much strength into the swing.
Rawley pulled the lance out of her stomach just a second later. Finally, the lazy bastard had decided to move. She felt a warmth in his arms that she hadn’t felt in quite a long time as he helped her to the ground where she could lie down. The blood was pooling around her, and she jokingly thought, This is ruining my dress. Perhaps a bit of Rawley was rubbing off on her, after all.
She turned to her right and saw Yelena’s face beside her. The woman’s eyes still held that fire, that pure disgust for Cecilia. They would forever hold that look, that feeling. Cecilia’s face had been the last thing she had ever seen before Cecilia’s sword separated her head from her neck.
“The boss” may have gotten away, but Yelena Something-Or-Another was dead.
“Cecilia Gullwing,” a voice said. She heard it, most certainly, but she still hadn’t opened her eyes. When she finally did, she saw Captain Bertrand standing there, in full armor and carrying sheets of paper in his hand. “By order of the Emperor for your efforts and success, you are hereby inducted into the Dragonslayer Guild.”
She tried to sit up, to salute her new captain, but she managed only to lift herself onto one elbow. “Thank you, my lord,” she said through a hoarse voice that sounded like she’d just eaten a gallon of paint.
He smiled. “Lieutenant Rawley told me everything, specifically of your fight against Yelena Beseria. To defeat such an enemy of the Empire is no small feat, and far more worthy of entry to the Guild than most others.” He turned to someone she couldn’t see. “Such as Lieutenant Rawley.”
She turned and saw Rawley leaning against the doorway, looking as casual as ever in a leather jacket, white shirt and blue trousers. “Oh, no need to single me out, Captain,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Bertrand ignored him. “In fact, it has allowed you special privilege. You, Cecilia Gullwing, are no simple lieutenant in the Guild. You are now my right hand, Lady Cecilia Gullwing.”
Cecilia nearly choked on her own tongue. Lady Cecilia Gullwing? So very few in the Imperial Army were given the title of Lady or Lord, and of the Dragonslayer Guild, Bertrand was the only one.
Until now, it seemed.
“My lord, I don’t…”
He held up a hand to shush her. “Mere words are unimportant. You have done a great service to the Empire and the Emperor has rewarded you.” He drew his sword. “Lady Cecilia Gullwing, I now formally claim you a member of the Dragonslayer Guild.” He bowed, as did Rawley, and then returned the sword to its scabbard. “The doctors inform me that you will be completely healed in under a day. Afterward, I will have a special assignment for you and Lieutenant Rawley.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Still paired up with him? “Of course, my lord,” she said, hiding that annoyance.
“Good.” He lowered his head. “Rest well, Lady Cecilia.”
Once he left the room, Rawley shut the door. “So… Lady Cecilia.”
She reached for anything on the table beside her to throw at him, but found nothing. “Stop that!”
He smirked. “Hey, I can’t help it, you’re my superior now.”
“How?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I put in a good word. Captain Bertrand took the death of one of his greatest failures as a great personal favor, and argued with the Emperor in your favor." He reached into his jacket pocket. "Also, entry to the Guild is usually marked by a souvenir from the mission. I didn't think you'd want Yelena's head, so I grabbed this instead." With a single click, the lance extended outward. "The weapon that pierced the midsection of Lady Cecilia Gullwing."
Cecilia took the lance and held it for a long while, completely silent. Then, finally, she said, "Thank you, Rawley."
He put his hand on her shoulder. "You really do deserve the title, Captain Gullwing."
She laughed. "Captain?"
"Promotions, babe. Nobody with the title is below captain. So, Lady Cecilia, get well soon. We've got something special ahead of us."
Cecilia finished adjusting her armor and picked up her weapons. Her sword had been cleaned before she left the healing house, but she still took a cloth to it anyway. She did the same with her new lance, after having her armor modified to carry it. She had no intentions of storing it collapsed. It was a trophy, one she would wear proudly.
Rawley walked into the room and clapped, for whatever reason. "Alright, Captain, what are we here for?"
She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I thought you already knew."
He shook his head. "All Captain Betrand told me was important. No details."
As if on cue, Captain Bertrand walked into the room with Lieutenants Farron and Grimbolt behind him. "Captain Cecilia," he said as he entered.
She slightly bowed. "Captain Bertrand."
"The airship Tribute is ready for you. There is cargo you're to retrieve near Peresten, a group of Plains Tribe slaves that the Emperor has requested personally. Also, there is an interesting prisoner aboard, awaiting transfer to Myzacile."
"A prisoner?" Cecilia asked.
"Endawa was not a complete failure, we succeeded in driving the dragon from its home, and managed to capture its conduit."
Cecilia blinked. The dragon was a mage? Was that even possible? “Is it cooperating with us?” she asked.
Bertrand nodded. “For now. We still have it restrained, for your safety. The Emperor’s Guard will take it from you when you arrive in the capital.” He took something from a side pouch on his belt. “A simple assignment, Lady Cecilia. Though I still expect something to happen. The dragon is out there, somewhere, most certainly looking for its conduit.” He handed her the item. “May good fortune find you, Cecilia Gullwing.”
She looked down at what he’d handed her. A necklace, with a red jewel. Inside the jewel was a rune, much like those on Captain Bertrand’s sword. It looked beautiful, but not exactly a combat accessory. Still, if it was a gift, it was a nice one. She tried to remember how to respond to the saying he’d just begun. “And may it travel with you, Captain Bertrand.” He nodded, then patted her on the shoulder.
After he had left the room, Rawley whistled. “Weeeeell. What’cha got there?” he asked.
She held the chain and let the jewel hang. “It’s pretty, but why would he give it to me?”
He smirked. “Maybe he’s got the hots for you.”
She glared at him. “Don’t. It’s bad enough I have to deal with you.”
He turned to walk out the door. “Just you pretend you’re not staring at my ass when I leave.”
She shook her head. Sure, Rawley was too much to handle, but even his bullshit couldn’t take away her good mood.
She had a mission, and she was going to succeed.
