Joan wanted to scream. It had been a few days since she had found the weapons and Hardwin STILL hadn’t returned. She held hope that he would today, but she doubted it.

Every moment was another moment closer to the end. She’d already lost so many years, years that the Demon Lord was likely using to prepare to awaken the Inferno God. Time that should have been spent finding each of the chosen before it was too late. Their world had a time limit and every day wasted was another day gone forever.

Stacks of old tomes and scrolls were resting on the desk besides her, a gift from the queen. Information on the noble houses and legends of the heroes in the past. Unfortunately, they didn’t distract her for long. The end was dangling overhead like a guillotine and she couldn’t focus knowing it could come down if she idled for too long. So many terrible monsters were coming and she was the only one who knew how to stop them, yet she couldn’t do anything about them without the chosen. Even worse, the stories of past heroes didn’t answer any questions either.

The hero came, defeated some great monster and then there was peace. Often the hero died in the final battle and, when they didn’t, they would usually continue to change the world. Most even found their own kingdoms or took control of the human empire. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t much information on the smaller details, too much had been lost to time.

There was plenty of information about how he had fought throughout the night to draw the Devourer of the Deep onto land and finally slay it, but there was little to no information about how he and his companions operated. There was information about the seven chosen standing up to face down the Cloud of Death and its summoner, but no information on if they had an eighth with them. With so many vague details it was impossible to tell if there could have been someone like her, a hero who failed, or if the hero just hadn’t played a pivotal role. Perhaps the hero hadn’t even been there. Was it possible for there to be chosen without a hero?

Joan was mentally exhausted. With every step forward it felt as if ten more questions sprang up. A part of her already wished she could go back to how things had been. Blindly charging forward, certain that she only had to defeat whatever monster waited around the corner. Research, study, understanding the history and politics of her world didn’t matter.

She picked up an old, slightly burned book. It didn’t help that the demon’s territory had seemed to ever expand with every hero, taking more and more territory once the hero finally died. Perhaps that was what the queen feared. The hero failing and the demons charging in to rummage through the pieces. It wasn’t their fault, though. The hero only appeared when a massive disaster struck, it was only natural that the world would be more vulnerable afterwards. And considering what happened when she failed, a bit of lost territory wasn’t so bad.

Joan dropped the tome onto the desk and sighed. She couldn’t read anymore. She needed to do something to get her blood pumping. Her eyes were drawn to the window of the room and she slowly slid out from the bed before walking to it and peering through the glass. She stared out over the grounds, giving a soft sigh. Where was he?

“Hardwin, of all the times to keep me waiting,” she whispered before her eyes were drawn to a small fenced off section of the grounds. A few figures were standing in it, fighting with what she could only presume were training weapons.

“That, on the other hand, looks like a good way to clear my head.” She held out her hand and attempted to summon her sword to her grip.

Nothing happened. “Seriously? Am I too weak to even use those… oh,” Joan said a moment later before shaking her head. Even if her sword hadn’t been destroyed when she fought the troll, she found it incredibly unlikely that any kind of summoning spell would work so close to the queen’s chambers. “Idiot,” she whispered. “No. It doesn’t matter. We can just go down there ourselves. We don’t need an edged blade, anyway.”

Joan almost ran to the wardrobe, pulling it open. A few dresses were resting inside it, though they weren’t what she was looking for so she quickly shoved them aside and began searching through the drawers. She’d almost given up hope when she pulled open the bottom drawer and, inside, her own clothing was resting. Cloak, tunic, breeches. Well worn but at least clean, they’d even had some of their holes patched, far better than she ever could.

That gave her pause for a moment after she pulled them out to examine. Now that she actually thought about it, sewing was one of the very few things she’d never been incredibly good at. Even as the hero she often just used a simple repairing spell which, frankly, wasn’t quite as good as doing it with thread and needle. She tossed the clothes onto the bed and quickly changed. Folding the dress up, she left it on the bed and moved to the door, pulling it open.

Quickly slamming it shut when she saw the woman standing outside. “Lady Joan?”

Joan gulped, quickly trying to steady her nerves. A guard was waiting outside the room. She wondered if she was she trapped here. Perhaps a captive? She supposed there was really only one way to find out. She slowly pulled the door open again and poked her head out. “Err, hello. Who are you?”

“Queen Emeline asked me to ensure if you desired to leave, you wouldn’t be alone. My name--”

“You’re my escort?” Joan asked, trying to keep her voice even and calm.

“Of course, if you desire it. Did you wish to go out? I could--”

“No,” Joan said quickly, cutting the woman off again. “I merely… uhhh...” She glanced around the room for a moment before her eyes fell on the empty tray with a dirty mug and bowl. While breakfast had been, once more, with the queen they had brought her lunch to eat in her room. “I’d finished my meal and was hoping to grab one of the servants to have it taken to the kitchen.”

“Oh, of course. If you need to call for a servant, all you need to do is ring the bell. Do you know how?” the woman asked.

“Oh, right. Yes. The bell. It completely slipped my mind, my apologies,” Joan said. “I think I’m going to go take a nap, okay? Could you ensure I’m not disturbed?”

“If you wish. Though I--”

Joan pushed the door shut and leaned against it, giving a soft sigh. She felt trapped like an animal. Her heart was pounding and panic was quickly beginning to set in, though she tried desperately to force it down.

She walked back to the bed and sat on it with a sigh, her frustration slowly taking hold once the panic began to die down. The queen was being so overly protective of her, as if she was afraid she’d over exert herself. She used to fight for days at a time without rest, the last thing she needed was days of rest over a few minor injuries. She felt fine and none of her bones were broken now.

Joan glanced to the window one more time. Hours were slipping away. Hardwin should have been back by now, but he wasn’t. She couldn’t keep waiting, the world didn’t have that kind of time.

“But what if I went to him?” she said softly, her eyes widening slightly. She could only think of a handful of places he could be, either his home or, more likely, the front lines. Or perhaps one of the threats that she’d dealt with as the hero. It wouldn’t take her more than a week or so to get to where ever he was once she figured it out. More importantly, if he came back before then they’d meet on the road. She wouldn’t even have to wait then, they could just go to find the other chosen.

Joan then sighed and laid back on the bed, letting that idea die. “It’s a stupid, idiotic plan,” she said to herself. “You don’t even know where he is and even if you do know which threat he’d be dealing with right now, it’s all mixed up in your head. You’re liable to make everything worse, not better. Stop being dumb,” she told herself, trying to help force herself to listen by verbalizing the words. She couldn’t just sit here and wait, though. She felt like she was slowly going mad. “Enough,” she finally said before getting to her feet and taking a few steps towards the door again. She then paused and quickly changed her mind, instead moving to the servant’s door against the wall.

It blended in almost seamlessly with the wall, with a single small latch which could be locked on this side. She’d been keeping it locked primarily because she really disliked the idea of anyone sneaking up on her, making them knock when they delivered things to her. Even though she’d been assured only specific servants and herself could come through without triggering the spells defending it, she still hated the idea of anyone being able to come into her room while she was asleep. The door pulled open with ease and she stuck her head into the inner hallway. “Hello?” she called out.

She received no response. Stepping inside, she pulled the door closed behind her, giving a light click when the lock went into place. Unfortunately, she quickly realized she’d made a small mistake. Only a few tiny lines of light from small cracks in the stone made their way into the passageway. She fumbled against the wall, trying to find a candle or way to trigger some lights, but if there was something she couldn’t feel it. She pushed back against where she thought the door to her room had been, but there was nothing.

Joan gave another soft sigh before shaking her head. “Always rushing in, aren’t we, hero?” she asked herself before slowly making her way down the passageway.

After a few steps her nerves began to relax. Even if she couldn’t see, the walls were smooth and obviously cleaned well. All she had to do was walk for a while until she came to an empty room with an unlocked passage. Then she could make her way down to where everyone was practicing. More importantly, she wasn’t a prisoner here. If she was they wouldn’t have left such an obvious escape route unlocked. Knowing she wasn’t a true captive was another small weight off her mind.

She felt nervous excitement filling her and began walking a little faster. Without an escort to try and keep her from over exerting herself, maybe she could finally work off some of this stress. Anything was better than sitting around and waiting for the world to end while she--

That thought was shattered when she took a step and found, to her horror, that she hit nothing but air. Joan let out a shriek and tried to reach out to grab the walls, but they were smooth with nothing to grab onto. She fell into the darkness, bracing herself and covering her face in preparation for whatever and wherever she landed.

With a loud thump she landed face first on the ground. The drop had only been a couple of inches, leaving her with deep feelings of embarrassment at her panic. To her relief, at least nobody saw.

A clatter made her look up right before she was blinded by a door of the passageway opening. She quickly covered her face again, trying to clear her vision before glancing up at the blurry sight.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” an angry voice asked. She felt something hard poking her arm, but all she could make out in the blinding light was a shadowy figure.

“Joan,” she said softly before trying to push the thing away from her arm. It cut into the sleeve of her cloak and down her hand, making her go still. She knew all too well what that feeling was. The cold metal of a blade.

“Joan? I don’t know any Joan. You’re not one of the servants, either,” the voice said firmly. The sword pushed in a little more, making her pull back. “Bit small for an assassin, aren’t you?”

Something about the voice was oddly familiar, though. However the word ‘assassin’ sent a small spike of panic through her. “Wait, no! I am a guest of the queen, under Lord Hardwin Dusklam.”

Her eyes finally adjusted enough to let her see the figure. He was wearing fine garments dyed a dark green, she suspected a nobleman of some sort. Judging by the wrinkles and thick beard on his face, he was older even than Hardwin. Rank and age were the least of her concerns, though. Her biggest worry for the moment was that sword that he held to her arm. She felt a rush of adrenaline when she saw his arm tense.

Instincts took over as they had a thousand times before. The sword plunged at her and she was already moving. Magic surged through her body, enhancing her strength and speed, allowing her to pull back just enough so the blade missed her. She then kicked hard, trying to hit his hand.

Unfortunately for her, he didn’t over extend with this thrust. Instead he pulled back, turning the edge of the blade towards her foot. She pulled it back, the edge of her boot just barely glancing the blade.

He was better than she would have expected. She pulled back and he went in for another thrust. Fortunately, with the light from the room she could now see in the passageway. She pulled her knees in and rolled, coming to her feet. The blade missed her by inches, but she couldn’t help but grin.

He was trying to kill her. But he wasn’t an impossibly powerful troll, a demon or a god. He was just another human like her. He would have likely been faster than her if she wasn’t enhancing her body with her magic, but as long as she could maintain the spell the only advantage he had was that sword of his.

Though, when he thrust it at her again she couldn’t deny it was quite a difficult advantage to overcome. She had to take another step back, narrowly avoiding the blade. It gave him enough space to step in after her, taking another swing.

But many millenia of combat experience let her see the flaw in his movements before he did. The passageway was too small, when he stepped in and tried to swing, his blade caught against the wall, leaving him vulnerable for a second.

She moved in that moment of weakness. Her left hand reached up and struck him just beneath the wrist, her right hand shooting out and up, driving into his solar plexus. The shot made him stumble back down the passage. Unfortunately for her, he neither dropped the sword nor fell. He lifted the sword once more and she dove through the door, entering his room.

Joan really missed her powers now. She hit the man with everything she had, how was he still standing? Then again, she supposed she should just be thankful her hand hadn’t been shattered like it had with Hardwin.

She readied herself but, despite stepping in after her, he didn’t attack again. He took a defensive stance before, to her surprise, his guard lowered slightly. “You’re just a child,” he said.

“I said that,” she said quickly, quickly scanning the room for anything she could use as a weapon. The blankets on the bed, maybe. The chair by the desk looked light enough. She saw some bags as well, though she doubted she could get to them and go through them fast enough to try and find a weapon before he could stab her.

“No you didn’t,” he said coldly. “Why were you… wait. You’re THAT child, aren’t you?” he asked. “The one her majesty has been fawning over!”

“I did say that!” she said quickly. “Are you going to keep trying to kill me?”

“What? No! Of course not,” he said, the blade slowly lowering. “And I was NOT attempting to kill you. If I were, child, you wouldn’t have survived. I merely believed you an assassin of sorts, stalking in the walls like that.”

Joan felt annoyance rising in her. WASN’T trying to kill her? She knew when someone was trying and there was nothing but murderous intent in his movements. “Sure felt like you were.”

“To the untrained eye, perhaps,” the man said before sheathing his blade. “If I had wanted you dead, I never would have allowed you to come in so close. I must admit, your speed did startle me. That strike of yours almost hurt. Perhaps in a few years you could try your luck again on the sparring range.”

Joan felt red hot fury rising inside her. She felt her blows hit and saw him stumbling back. Even now she could see the bruise forming on his wrist and the fact he was breathing fast. “You only say that because you’re bitter about being beaten by a child.”

That made him pause and he puffed out his chest slightly, which then made him give a light cough. She couldn’t help feeling a little smug at that. “Beaten by a child? Never. Perhaps you don’t recognize me, as I am Sir Ywain Remesy, first blade of Lord Palkin.”

“First blade of who?” Joan asked. There it was again, that feeling of familiarity. She would have sworn they’d met before. Perhaps in some of her past lives?

Ywain’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Palkin, protector of Tomefall. He-- wait. I know you now. You’re that child. That prodigy. What are you doing here, sneaking through the walls?”

Joan’s eyes widened and she once more mentally cursed herself. No wonder he looked familiar. If he served Tomefall then she had likely at least met him a few times while in the academy. “I was brought here as a guest by the chosen.” She wondered if it would be considered rude to punch him a second time. She was pretty sure she could get in close and stop him from drawing his sword if she wanted to. She quickly shoved those thoughts away, mentally kicking herself for them, she was likely in enough trouble without getting in a fist fight over being treated like a child.

“I see,” Ywain said, crossing his arms. “I never would have suspected the child her highness was so enamored with to be you. Though, again, that doesn’t explain why you were skulking through the walls.”

“Because I… I was…” Joan struggled to come up with some excuse that would make sense. But, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t come up with any lie that seemed at all satisfactory. “I was feeling cooped up and wanted to go outside without being watched constantly. Her highness has been incredibly protective of me, so I thought sneaking out would be the only way to be able to get some proper practice in without her trying to shield me.”

To her surprise, his scowl actually softened and, for the first time since she’d arrived, the tension faded from his form. “Ah, yes. Of course,” he said, his tone far softer now. “Her highness is quite keen to get her way at all times, isn’t she? I can’t say I particularly blame you for wanting to be free.”

Joan felt a small glimmer of hope and quickly nodded. “So I don’t suppose you could pretend this never happened?”

He gave a soft sigh and shook his head. “I cannot. I’m afraid to let this pass would bring shame not just to me, but to my lord as well.”

“But--”

“I am not without my kindnesses, though,” he said firmly, holding a palm up to silence her. “I see no reason to tell the exact reasons for your departure. Nobody should have to be a chained hound, after all. If you’d like, you could even say that you heard a sound in the tunnels and went to investigate. So long as you swear to not attempt to leave in such a manner again, I see no reason to give the exact reason for your departure.”

Joan slowly nodded, though she couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She took solace in the fact he at least wouldn’t tell on her completely. “Thank you. I swear I won’t try that again,” she said softly.

“Good,” he said before motioning towards the door. “I hope you understand that I will have to escort you back to your room.”

She gave another small nod, sighing softly. “Of course.”

The walk back through the halls of the castle filled her with nothing but shame. She got a few confused looks which only made it worse. He glanced down after a few moments. “May I make one more suggestion?”

“Yes?”

“Next time you decide to go through some dark passageways such as that, ensure you are properly armed to defend yourself. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally hurt the queen’s guest when they thought they were being attacked, now would it?”

That made her cheeks go bright red and she quickly looked away from him. “My sword was recently shattered in a terrible battle. I have yet to have replaced it.”

“Truly? Such a shame. I remember a few of your matches at the academy, to not have a blade to call your own must be quite difficult.”

Joan gave a small nod. “You have no idea.”

While her room wasn’t very far from his the guards were stationed on either side of the stairs leading up to it. They quickly took possession of her and, true to his word, he let her explain what had happened.

Of course, when she returned to her room the guard stationed outside was borderline frantic, all but pushing her into bed and making her swear to call her if she heard any other sounds.

Still Joan couldn’t help feeling a little better. Though the fight had been short, it had been exhilarating. More importantly, she had WON. Even if he denied it, she knew she could have taken him.

It felt like it had been lifetimes since she had last had a victory under her belt. Even if it was against ‘first sword’ or whatever he called himself. She didn’t have to just sit here and wait. Tomorrow, one way or another, she would force her escort to take her down to the sparring grounds.

She glanced out the window and sighed. While the guard insisted she rest after that ‘ordeal’, she doubted she’d do it for long. It wasn’t even dusk yet. Even though she felt a little tired, she would just rest for a little bit and then go right back to studying those books.

MelodyAvant

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