I stood across Dama Fiametta in the practice yard of the royal guards. There was a company of guards drilling out in the yard with us, but we had a section to ourselves. I rolled my shoulders and my neck trying to alleviate some mild anxiety. The clouds caught my eye.
“You know, I didn’t think much about it last night, but it’s always overcast down here right?”
Fiametta looked up, then back to me. “Yes, I’ve never seen the sun.”
“That… I’m sorry, that was an insensitive thing for me to bring up.”
Fiametta chuckled, then said, “Not at all, Jack. I would be weakened by the sun. I am a dhampir. The vampires would be slowly killed by it, depending on their cultivation level. But the magical cloud cover is what allows us to walk around during the ‘day’ even though such a concept is largely meaningless for most of us.”
“Oh. That’s another thing. Why do you track night and day? And why—”
Fiametta held up a hand and cut me off, “Jack, these are not questions I have the answer to. It is just how it is. Why do you keep track of night and day? No, no, don't answer that. You’ll tell me something like ‘We needed light to see.’”
“Well, yes, that was my answer.”
“Enough,” she said, waving her hand. “Now, from your form when we fought together, it seems you have some education on fencing with the longsword, but I could not tell how much.”
“Oh, I, uh, was an orphaned pretty young. I couldn’t afford a proper tutor or anything, but the city’s library had copies of manuals, so I read those and practiced.”
With her helmet on, I couldn’t read her face and wasn’t sure why she took a few extra seconds to respond, but I could guess. Everyone reacted to the orphan thing. “And how long have you been practicing?”
“Well, I started swinging a sword around about 10 years ago, but it wasn’t until—” I clenched my jaw, cutting off the sob that was about to choke out. “It was after I met Stephanie. She suggested I check the library to learn how to wield my sword ‘like a real adventurer’.” I snorted self deprecatingly. “So, I did. That would be a little over four years ago now.”
“Your instincts are good, and you fight well for it being four years and nothing but a manual. Did you have no one to spar against?”
“Rarely I could get another red, sorry, C-note adventurer to spar with me, but the odds of them also knowing how to properly fight at the level of cultivation.” I shrugged. “It was just rare to find good opponents.”
“Alright, then we’ll cover some basics. In your manuals, you learned what being strong and weak is, yes?
“With the sword? Yes.”
“Okay, this is a training game called Frequens Motus. We will enter a bind, and you can only move when you are strong. You must stop moving when you are weak. Your goal is to push me back from the center, to the edge. We’ll try that first.”
She stood across from me, and we both brought our swords up. I pushed hers out of the way to take the inside, gaining a strong position, and then stepped forward. She stepped back, matching me, then she quickly weakened even more, to slide her sword under mine to retake the inside and the strong position. I stuttered and stopped moving. We clashed again, but she was quicker to weaken away from the bind. I realized now the purpose of this drill.
She was teaching me to feel her sword while also practicing when I could move and when I couldn’t—how to manage distance. It’s one thing to know all of these on paper, but it’s entirely different to feel the see-sawing back and forth like this as we struggled over the strong position. Eventually, I pushed her to the edge, and she said, “Alright, your turn. I will only advance when strong. You cannot advance and can only retreat when I push you.” And on we went.
It was grueling. Thanks to my cultivation, I wasn’t sure how much time passed between this drill and another one she showed me—one focused on training my sensitivity, but I could tell I was going to need a break soon.. The nonstop back and forth, muscles primed, then relaxed, then primed again.
“Capitana!” came a familiar voice.
Oh thank the gods. A break.
Orsa, Chiara, and two women I didn’t recognize walked up. They weren’t in their armor. They wore lightweight tunics in Ippolita’s colors of red, and black, with gold trim. Fiametta lowered her sword and took off her helmet. I followed her lead and dismissed mine to my storage ring.
“Oh, and who is this playing at being a cavaliera?” asked one of the new women.
I didn’t know what the word meant, but I didn’t need to know it to know I was being made fun of. Unfortunately, she was going to be stronger than me. And really, wasn’t I just learning basic drills anyways? I gave a mental shrug and catalogued the person as someone not worth knowing. Just because I was still learning didn’t mean what she said was acceptable.
“I’m Jack Wright. Her majesty’s guest.” I extended my hand in greeting as some of the humor slid off the girl’s face.
“Oh, you’ve stuck your foot in it, now, Simona,” said the second woman while laughing.
“Merda. I’m sorry, Signore Wright. We saw the end of your drills, and it looked like the Capitana had taken a new apprentice, and then you took your helmet off.”
Orsa burst out laughing. “Oh gods, Capitana, she’s right. If we didn’t know better, we’d think you were taking Signor Wright out on the worst date of his life.” Fiametta turned a few shades darker as the rest of them laughed. She looked at me, then quickly averted her gaze back to her subordinates.
“Yes, well, as you can see, I was helping Jack learn some of the basic drills we use to—”
“Oh, it’s Jack is it? Maybe it is a date?” Orsa teased.
Chiara elbowed Orsa in the gut. “He just lost his fiancee, cazzo d’idiota!”
“It’s alright,” I said, trying to stop whatever this was from getting further out of control. “As Dama Fiametta said, she was showing me some drills. I am self taught from manuals in my old city’s library. This was a valuable lesson.”
“So, did you four need something, or did you come to haze someone you thought was new?”
“No, capitana! It’s time for lunch! We were going to invite you and your sparring partner to lunch with us.”
“Oh, is it lunch time already?”
Lunch time? We’ve been at this for literal hours? No wonder I’m exhausted.
“Ah, actually, I’d like some time alone,” I said. “Thank you, Fiametta. Today was educational. If you have time tomorrow, I could obviously use more practice.”
“I do, but, it would probably be better to introduce you to the rest of the royal guard this week. You’ll have no shortage of sparring partners, and you won’t get accustomed to one person’s fighting style. It would also benefit you to know how we all fight. You might find yourself beside one of us in combat sooner rather than later.”
I clenched my fists. That’s right. Even if the principessa could pulp them if they crossed the walls. I wanted the satisfaction of freeing Stephanie’s body myself. And maybe killing the woman that defiled her corpse, but that was a long road of cultivation ahead of me. Perhaps being on an expedition team that sought her out was a more realistic goal.
“That sounds like a great idea, Fiametta. Thank you. Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I reek, and need a bath.” I turned and walked back towards the palace. I could hear one of them start to say something only to be silenced by Chiara’s elbow again. Probably Orsa. She reminded me a bit of Claudia. Not in physique, but maybe in demeanor. Or maybe I was just homesick. I didn’t know how Bill felt before. Not really. I empathized, certainly, and even had nightmares of being in his position. Now, I was. It still felt like it hadn’t set in—that I’d never be with Stephanie again, never hold her again, never feel her warmth. I would never hear her melody ever again.
“Signor Wright,” an insistent voice said as an arm grabbed my shoulder. I turned abruptly revving my core and letting my mana sing.
I shouldn’t be attacked, not here. Was my safety a lie?
Facing the woman touching me, I recognized her now and realized I had never actually heard her speak. Or if I had, it wasn’t many words. “Fillipa, right?” I asked.
“Yes, Signore. I’m sorry for abruptly grabbing you,” she said while releasing my arm, “But you’ve walked past the guest house, and are heading towards the East Gate.”
“Oh! Thank you, Filippa. I was—I am lost. I was just lost in thought and kept walking. Would it be too much trouble for you to escort me?”
She gave me the kind of smile you might give a child who was taking themselves very seriously. “Of course, Signor Wright. Where were you trying to go?”
“Ah, well, I need a bath pretty badly. So I guess wherever I can go to bathe?”
“The guest house has a small private bath house connected to it. Will that suffice?”
“Yes, that would be perfect. I don’t know if I can handle crowds at the moment.”
“Of course, Signore. Please follow me.”
I followed after her; she led me back to the guest house, through the main doors, down the hallway, and then we passed my room. After another 20 feet or so, she opened a door on the opposite side of the hall as my room’s door, and held it for me to enter.
“Inside, you’ll find soaps, perfumes, rags, sponges, and towels. I’ll fetch you clothes from your room and lay them here in the antechamber.”
“Oh, no that’s okay. I have a spare set in my storage ring. Wait, what do you mean clothes in my room?”
“Oh, did her majesty not inform you? We had some clothes tailored for you while you slept through the night. They are in a variety of colors and shades, but of course we have some in her colors for you as well, if you prefer.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Of course, Signor Wright. If that will be all?”
“Sorry, yes. Thank you, Fillipa.”
She bowed and left me alone in the antechamber. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Alone. I sent my armor to my storage ring and took my clothes off, placing them in the bin. I opened the other door and stepped into the next room. The room was about as big as my bedroom, which seemed excessive. The polished stone floor was cold under my feet. I could see a drain cut into the stone underneath a metal fixture that hummed with enchantments. In the center of the room was a raised tile pool—calling it a bath doesn’t do it enough of justice. It was spacious enough for 12 people to sit in it comfortably.
I approached the bath first and stuck a hand in the water. It wasn’t scalding, but it was hot in a very soothing and comforting way. The bottom of the tub had a tile mosaic. It featured 10 women circling around a table which disguised the drain for the tub. Each woman had blood flowing from their left wrist, as their right hand stretched towards the sky. Spread out above them were the same clouds that covered the skies of the surface, but with one distinction: 12 rays of light shown down on the women. Interesting art, gorgeous too. Along the walls of the bath I could feel the same hum of enchantments.
I stepped away from the bath and approached the metal fixture that hung from the ceiling. There were knobs on the wall underneath it. I could feel the enchantment for water and heat coming from the one on the left, so I turned it to the left. Immediately, water sprayed from the fixture down onto me. The water startled me. It was hot—the same temperature as the bath water. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to feel the water on my face, tears mixing with it. I lowered my head and wiped my face, then threw a punch as hard as I could without magic at the wall. I hit the wall again, and again, and again. I dropped to my knees and beat on the stone floor with my fists, letting out all the pain I’d been holding back throughout the day in wracking sobs. I clenched my jaw and punched the stone again.
Come on Jack. She wouldn’t want you like this. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. No more tears. Life moves forward whether I move with it or not, so I need to move, too.
I took a breath, held it, and then let it out. I stood up and walked over to a small table by the door and grabbed a bar of soap and a bottle marked “For Hair”, and walked back to the water coming from the fixture.
I’ll have to ask what this is called, it’s a very handy invention. It’s like standing under a heavy rain shower.
I set the bottle down, then held the soap under the water to get it wet and began the process of scrubbing myself with it. It felt like I was scrubbing off more than dirt. I was still hurting. I would be hurting for a long time, but part of me felt like I was scrubbing off the entire day, the weakness, the wallowing, the enervation, all of it swirled towards the drain beneath me. I could feel my eyes stinging, but it was just a threat. A reminder of what I was feeling—what I would continue to feel. When I finished with the soap, I walked back to the table and set it down, then went back to the fixture. I picked up the bottle labeled “For Hair”, dumped a little of the liquid out onto my hand and set it down, then started working it into my hair. It slowly built into a lather similar to soap. Must be hair soap. I worked it through my hair, then dunked my head under the water and washed all the suds out.
I looked over at the tub. Another time perhaps. I picked up the hair soap bottle, and brought it back to the table. I opened the door and stepped back into the antechamber. On the shelf were several towels. I grabbed one and thoroughly dried myself. I summoned my clothes from my storage ring onto the table. I also summoned the engagement dagger onto the table and picked it up. I ran my fingers over the engravings gingerly, then pulled it slightly from its sheath and looked at my reflection in the blade. With a resolute sigh, I shoved it back in and returned it to my ring. I picked up my clothes, got dressed, and walked out of the door.