"Help!" someone shouted.
Kalienne Omaro glanced towards the source of the disturbance. It was rude of someone, interrupting her evening walk like that.
The problem, as it happened, was a boy. A few years younger than Kalienne, perhaps fifteen, he was surrounded by three men she thought to be in their thirties. One of them had a knife pressed against his throat.
A second pointing his own knife at Kalienne in what he meant to be a menacing fashion. "You or her," he snarled to the boy.
Kalienne's hand drifted to the longsword on her belt.
"Me," the boy said.
Kalienne blinked slowly. An interesting turn of events, she thought.
"Fine," she said. "I'll bite."
She drew her sword and within seconds all three men were lying on the floor, motionless.
The boy stared at her, clearly having difficulty registering what he had just seen. "Thanks," he said slowly.
"Why'd you do it?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Offer to sacrifice yourself for me. Have you no survival instincts?"
"I'm no one," the boy said. "But you look like you have potential."
Kalienne gave a dry laugh. "Right," she said sarcastically. "Seventeen year old alcoholic serial liar. I can feel the potential rolling off of me in waves."
"You have money," he said, eyeing her clothing. "I have nothing."
"Money isn't potential, kid."
"No. But money lets you use your potential."
"For what?"
The boy shrugged. "I dunno. Go save the world or some shit."
"Nah," Kalienne said. Then she tossed him a small pouch. "You go save the world. I'm gonna go drink to much, hook up with strangers, and act like a stupid teenager."
"Why?"
"Cause it's fun."
The boy looked up at her pleadinging. "I'm begging you Ma'am. Don't waste your life."
The noble men stood around, talking politics and pointless alliances. The noble women stood in gaggles, whispering and giggling with plastic smiles.
Kalienne was not smiling. Kalienne never smiled. She wore instead an expressionless expression, or, more accurately, a lack thereof. Her face was colored by nothing but slight disdain, less like the blankness of someone who lacked thought or feeling and more like she simply found expressions to be so far below her that she would not grace them with a position on her face.
As she walked through the grand entrance and into the Midsummer Ball, heads turned and eyes shifted subtly to look at her. Kalienne, with her hair that was mint green now but a different color every time you saw her. Kalienne, with her dress that looked like it was woven from the northern lights. Kalienne, with her name they had never heard and fortune with no clear source. Kalienne, with her casual contempt and air of superiority.
Others went to the Duchess of Elmen's parties to play matchmaker or form needless alliances. Kalienne went to them for the free liquor.
This was not because she could not afford her own liquor. Kalienne had a small fortune solely in her possession. But why, she figured, pay for something you could get for free?
The whispers about Kalienne were some of the most fascinating. No one knew who she was. No one knew where she had come from. She had simply appeared out of the blue one day, a passenger on a small ship from nowhere with enough money to be a well-established noble. If you asked her where she came from, she would reply, "Nowhere of consequence." If you asked her who her family was, she would reply, "People of little import, with names you wouldn't know." If you asked her where she got her money, she would reply, "Found it," with such finality that you had no choice but to accept it.
Early on when she had showed up in the city of Karnith, people tried questioning her after she'd been drinking. Trouble was, Kalienne behaved much the same drunk as sober. She would walk a little more slowly, and her expression would grow a little more blank, but her personality was entirely indistinguishable. She would provide the same nonchalant and obviously pre-prepared responses to every question.
And so the rumors circulated. The most common rumor was that Kalienne was a nobody who had gone massively into debt for her fortune. This was not true, but Kalienne didn't care. She liked the rumors. And so she let them continue.
She was obviously not of noble birth, from the long scar across her cheek to her penchant for taunting rich men who would have made good allies. She had an accent that no one could place. She had a tattoo on her right arm of art she swore was language. She could keep a secret like her life depended on it, but she gossiped with the noble women like someone would die if she didn't.
People whispered about her behind her back as she walked to the bar and started to down shots like they were her lifeblood. She ignored them. She had sworn an oath as she disembarked her ship at the docks. For the first time in her eighteen years, Kalienne Omaro had a purpose. She was going to save the world.