Roland was as drunk as a bard in a mead hall after seven rounds and one tragic ballad. When the servants brought him into the bedroom, he was sloshed, staggering and singing to Jesting about beautiful his whitish hair looked.
Jesting was mortified.
He and the servants could not hand over the crown prince soon enough to the crown princess and they could not escape fast enough after their duty was finished.
Sigrid pinched her nose when he belched and a storm’s worth of booze breath came from his mouth. She cleaned him with magic and changed his clothes. When she finally got into bed, he curled up to her like a cat seeking warmth.
"Smells good." he muttered.
Sigrid sighed. "Sleep." she patted his back gently and put him to sleep. The tiresome three days were over, it was time to rest again.
She decided to put off the plan to take on Emmah or any of the other mages that were in the empire, sniffing around for the lucky halo. Closing her eyes, she slept off.
****
For Emmah Fairfax, now known as Ciara Fox, there was no sleep that night. How could she, when training to become a female knight under Dame Amelia was a life threatening experience. All wannabe knights were entitled to only six hours of rest a day. The rest of the time was dedicated to training with little breaks to eat and catch one’s breath.
The moon was a pale witness to Ciara Fox’s determination. Where others were sleeping, she was facing off against five well trained female mages on a field in Suncrest, near the edge of a forest.
She gripped her sword with sweat-slick fingers and gritted her teeth. Paying no mind to the crushing of her bones, she readied herself for another attack. In her mind, she reminded herself of why she had to do this. It was because she was a criminal in hiding, being hunted by different forces.
Rather than hide and live like a mouse, she wanted to forge her identity in glory, living with respect. Instead of being afraid of others, they would be afraid of her. Like the old farmer that had sold her the identity of his dead daughter that had passed in the western plague. He had been very afraid when she turned around and slit his throat with a blade after the deal was done.
She had set his house on fire too, leaving no traces of what had transpired there.
"Again." barked Sir Skylar barked, her braided lavender hair glowing ethereally in the moonlight. She was one of the women that took up the sword by Dame Amelia’s side and challenged the law against women being knighted. She was stern and tolerated no nonsense of illusions. "We don’t have time for you to learn how to control your breath Fox. You parry too early, you back away easily like you are afraid to die and you breathe like you’re hoping for mercy."
Ciara nodded. She didn’t speak. When she came to Medoris, she chose silence as an armor. The less she talked, the less people tried to talk to her and the more anonymous she remained.
The five knights sprung into action, coming at her one at a time, their blades like judgement. Each time she saw a flash of silver, her heart clenched as she pictured a sword bearing down on her neck after she was arrested for murder.
Sir May kicked her. "Mind on the sword at all times Fox." she warned while bringing her sword down.
Ciara blocked it and rolled away. Her ribs were sore where she had been kicked but she did not show the pain on her face. Just as she was standing, the hit of a sword hit her in the stomach and stole her breath.
"Dead." Sir May said coldly, stepping back.
Ciara slowly got to her feet, coughed and steadied herself.
The next challenger Sir Muni came at her, running faster than a tiger going after prey. She was fond of twirling her sword like it was stitched to her wrist naturally. It was said that in battle, with every twirl, she took a life.
She disarmed Ciara in one move and pushed her sword to her neck like she was about to push it in.
"Too slow Fox." Sir Muni smirked.
Ciara grit her death. As Emmah, she had been suppressed by noble women at every turn in Eldoria when she tried to stand out. As Ciara, in Medoris she was still being suppressed by these barbaric women. She hated them all---so much.
She grit her teeth as Sir Lucy approached slowly, sword behind her back. Sir Lucy was as broad as a bear twice as tall and equal in strength to it. With one hand, she could crush an opponent to death.
She did not even use her sword, she used her bare hand to attack Ciara. The swing very blunt and final. It sent Ciara off her feet and she fell to the ground. Her arm, where she had been hit, was screaming. It was like all the bones had been crushed.
"Dead." Sir Lucy declared flatly, turned and walked away.
Breathing heavily, Ciara bit back her tears and slowly staggered to her feet. Her hand was shaking as she picked up her sword and faced the next challenger, Sir Aiko.
She was small and short, equal to Ciara in height and size. They appeared to be well matched physically. Sir Aiko always had a polite smile on her face and she outdid Ciara when it came to silence. Some people called her the mute knight for she was rarely heard talking.
On the battlefield, she could disarm her opponent in three moves. The first cut was meant to test defense, the second was a distraction and the third---it was her famous spiral death cut.
Ciara experienced it all and she ended up on her back. There was no pain at least. Sir Aiko was not one for theatrics and needless violence. She turned and walked away like a silent hero in a billowing black cape.
The night drew on and Ciara was beaten black and blue. She literally died twenty five times but, she started to adapt. Her desperation was her strength for she lacked the training and yet she wanted results quickly.
Between rounds, the knights sat around Sir Skylar, drunk wine, stretched and laughed. Ciara did not try to join them. She was not their friend and she was not looking to be one. She just wanted to be their equal someday.