-Fifteen Years Later-
A pair of eyes stared back at Bianca Miles: one green and one gold. She took in her visage within the reflection of her blade before rising to her feet. The half-Elf observed one last look at the plethora of scars that adorned her torso, lingering on the row of teeth marks that scarred the left side of her stomach before pulling her tunic over her body. Then came the armor, leathers studded with rows of sharp metal along the shoulders and chest. She sheathed her blade, adorned her metal helmet, and stepped out of the medic's tent within the walls of Fort Seneca of Seneca Field in the country of Elvehn. Greeted by the sounds of clamoring soldiers and the sight of noblemen that walked the battlements, she made her way towards the commander of the Elvehn forces attempting to overtake the fortress.
"We've come so far," the commander said as he bit his thumb. He wore the standard attire of an Elvehn soldier; golden platemail and a long, white robe that draped over his left shoulder. His hair was long and golden, flowing over his pointed ears. His eyes were a piercing yellow, and his face looked like that of a man in his twenties despite likely being much older. The commander grunted as he turned towards Bianca. "Took you long enough, mongrel. I'm not paying you to loaf around in the medic's facilities."
Bianca tilted her head upwards, gazing down at the Elf. "What's the holdup? Or is the great Commander Octavius so lacking in military might that he cannot take a simple fortress?"
Octavius growled and turned towards her. "This is not like the small hamlets you butchered these past weeks, dog. This is Fort Seneca, the last stronghold before our capital of Aldhicus, and the home of the last remnants of the old Empire ruled by Morticius Osselus. Our victory here will establish Senator Batiatus as head of our capital, and make the slavers and warlords of our past just that: a thing of the past! It is not to be taken lightly."
"Lots of big names there, Elf. So why hire mercenaries?" Bianca asked. She wasn't the only sellsword hired by Commander Octavius. Humans and Dwarves alike fought within the fortress walls, each one paid the same rate as the half-Elf. That is to say, less than the usual offering to the average Elvehn soldier.
Octavius chuckled. "I'll not risk proper Elves when I can use dogs and lesser beings. That being said," the commander said, and pointed towards a large portcullis in the center of a massive stone wall that crumbled with age. A being stood in front of it, horns curling back like that of a Faerie, but skin rugged and sharp like obsidian. It stood completely naked, yet it possessed no means of telling its sex. Completely devoid of male or female anatomy, and crackling with energy.
A Battle Slave, a Faerie tortured and mutilated into something horrific meant only for war and bloodlust. Bianca had heard the tales of them all too well in her home with the Heartland Fae. One of two horrific fates that awaited the Faeries who were enslaved by the former Empire. The sight of it made her blood boil. She wanted nothing more than to kill it, and to put it out of its misery.
"That's the thing keeping us from taking the fortress?" Bianca cocked her head to the side.
"Yes, you damned mongrel. What else? No one can get anywhere close to it without those bastards up there hurling fireballs towards any fool who tries to charge it." Octavius pointed to the battlements. The white-robed, hooded noblemen atopwho walked along the walls weren't just there for show. Long, flowing white robes with hoods that obscured their faces; they were likely students of the Runewrit Academy, the most prestigious school of magecraft in all of Gaol. Each mageone held a book in one hand, and kept the other curled in the shape of a claw while gripping a small ball of flame in the other. Mages, ready prepared to strike down anything that got into the main courtyard.
Bianca recognized the way they held their hands. "Eldr '' was the original name of the spell in Elbafas, but she didn't quite know the name in Elvehn. A single-shot fire projectile that took several seconds to cast again. She looked for an opening to the left, then to the right. Two ways up to the battlements, one an open staircase to their left/right while the other was hidden within a tower that rose up the side of the eastern wall.
She began to hatch a plan. "Care to trust the word of a mercenary for a moment?"
Octavius burst into laughter. "Can you come up with a better strategy than us?"
"If it works, you take the fort. If it doesn't, you just lose a bunch of dogs without having to pay them. I'd say it plays out well for you." Bianca smirked as Octavius rubbed his chin. She obviously made him stop and listen, for he placed his hands on his waist and turned towards her. "Allow me to call for a duel. Then--"
"A what? A duel?'"
Bianca sighed. "Yes. To the death. Myself against the Battle Slave. Winner takes the fort."
Octavius shook his head. "Those mages will never allow it, you fool."
"One would be surprised. Elves often have a flair for the dramatic that borders on stupidity. You've already taken out most of the ground troops. Allow the mercenaries to traverse the stairways to the battlements. There, and there. Let's call a spade a spade, commander, they're going to strike me down if I win, or let their Battle Slave paint the ground with my innards if I lose. I'll serve as a distraction, if nothing else. What do you say?"
Octavius was silent as the grave for what seemed like an eternity. Then, in an instant, he reached towards the sky and produced a light that blanketed the fort. Golden wisps of energy came raining down, and before long the soldiers who weren't busy fighting others rushed to his location.
"By the ancestors, you are an uppity one." Octavius stroked his moustache and smirked. "So be it, sellsword. Show them what you can do. All the others of you, rally to me!" Octavius shouted, and Bianca began walking towards the courtyard. Her eyes drifted towards the battlements, the gaze of the Elven mages bearing down on her. The flames within their fingers crackled and grew brighter. Bianca may be able to parry one, or perhaps even two, but there were six magi in total atop the wall. She'd survive for a few moments, but then she would fall at their whim.
Of course, they could just as easily strike her down now, for as her feet touched the dirt and cobblestone ground of the courtyard, one of the mages stepped forward and drew his hand back. He prepared to release the fire when Bianca drew her blade and stabbed it into the ground.
"Magi of Elvehn! I call for a duel! Myself against the Battle Slave. The victor takes Fort Seneca. The loser leaves with their tail between their legs. What say you?!"
A lone Elf stepped out from behind the trio of mages on the Western wall. "Bold words, sellsword. For one so close to death, your words are filled with the breath of life. Pray tell, why should we not merely strike you down where you stand?"
Bianca threw her arms out to her sides and grinned. "Entertainment, my lord! You've been watching dogs and poorly trained soldiers throw themselves against each other all day. There's no risk, no stakes, and no excitement. Would you rather just watch a bunch of idiots slam shields together until one side gives up, or would you rather indulge in a proper show?"
"Ah, like the gladiatorial games of old in Atswala!" the Elf noble proclaimed.
"Exactly, my lord, exactly. This courtyard is your arena, the Battle Slave your champion, the magi behind you, the judges of the games, and myself the lone lamb to the slaughter. Will you oblige this poor sellsword a last wish to bathe in glory before the end?"
Play to the Elven sense of superiority. Make him think he's above you.
Bianca mused as she watched the magi smirk and nod to each other. Got them right where I want them, she thought before the noble turned his attention back to her.
"Very well, dog. Make this fight glorious, for it is your last. To arms, slave!" The noble tossed an orb into the courtyard, and the Battle Slave began to roar. The orb shattered, and a large, crystalline blade began to grow from the center of the makeshift arena. The colossal creature howled before charging forward, ripping the crystal from the ground and swinging it hard in front of Bianca.
Keep your distance. It may be slow, but one strike will kill you.
Bianca leapt backwards, grabbing her sword as she went. She came skidding to a halt, her eyes never leaving the behemoth as it prepared for another charge. Not seeking to become like the many battered and broken corpses around her, Bianca kept on the defensive and watched her enemy close like a hawk eyeing its prey. Every so often, for the briefest of moments, she would cast a fleeting glance towards one of the stairways to the battlements, waiting for the mercenaries to make their way to the magi above.
Not yet.
The crystalline weapon came hurtling towards her, barely missing her nose as she bent backwards to dodge the weapon just in the nick of time. She dove forward, thrusting the blade towards the behemoth's chest. The sword struck true, the tip burying itself just above where a mortal's heart would be. Yet only the tip could penetrate its thick hide. Bianca breathed deep and clenched her hands tight, white-hot energy surging through her biceps, then her forearms, and finally the palms of her hands.
Ignis.
She thought the word, and fire erupted from the blade and allowed her to bury it deeper. The Battle Slave howled as Bianca ripped the blade upwards and sliced into its shoulder. Her eyes darted towards the staircase, and the slightest hint of a shield moving behind the wall told of her plan slowly coming to fruition. Yet it was not enough. Not yet. She needed more time. She had to hold their attention just a few moments longer.
One moment of distraction was enough too late, for the Battle Slave to slamslammed its fist into the side of her helmet and sendt her toppling to the ground. The helm cracked and split on the side of her face. It must have somehow retrieved its weapon while she was down the instant she looked away, or maybe it had produced a new one. Yet her eyes studied the crystal and saw multiple chips and knicks in the edge of the sword. One more solid blow to something hard, and the crystal would shatter.
I could charge straight ahead. Take another blow. Go for the open wound I created on my last strike.
It was a gamble to end all gambles. If the sword didn't shatter on impact, it would tear Bianca's head from her shoulders. If she killed the Battle Slave too early, the magi could simply cut her down where she stood. All eyes were on her, still watching until a warcry came from above her. A Dwarf threw an axe into the trio of magi on the Western battlements, burying it in his chest and neck before he could release the fire. It was a slaughter, and it meant Bianca's work was nearly done. The only obstacle left stood before her, she thought as she gripped her sword tightly, and her life hung on the outcome of a single swing.
She took a fighting stance and a deep breath, then, breathed deep, and set her blade alight once more before charging. The behemoth followed suit, rushing towards her and swinging its blade madly for her face. The crystal ripped the rest of the metal helmet apart before shattering into shards and sliced Bianca's exposed skin. Painful, but nowhere near fatal. The opening made, Bianca swung upwards and sliced through the Battle Slave's shoulder, sending blood and black fluid pouring to the ground as it groaned in agony.
Without missing a breath, Bianca freed the sword from the behemoth's shoulder and brought the blade down hard on its skull, splitting it apart. Its eyes bulged and burst from its head as blood sprayed like a geyser. Then, with one last shuddering breath, the beast fell to the ground. Dead.
Bianca tore the remains of the helmet from her head, letting her raven hair spill down her back. She brushed the golden bangs out from in front of her mix-matched eyes and held her sword high for the rest of the mercenaries and soldiers to see. She was met with roars of cheering and thunderous applause. Bianca roared, pounding her chest as she stomped her foot on the ground beside her fallen enemy.
"Brothers! The day is ours!" She cried, and Commander Octavius' forces descended on what enemy soldiers dared to remain within Fort Seneca.
---
"A damn fine haul," Bianca said with a grin as she walked down the road from the collection office in the city of Aldhicus. Her contract with Commander Octavius had ended with her two weeks of service coming to a close and the taking of Fort Seneca. The good commander had even been so gracious as to include a rather hefty bonus for killing the Battle Slave, giving her a grand total of three hundred gold pieces. "Damn fine." She beamed, the weight and sound of an overstuffed coinpurse music to her ears.
The streets of Aldhicus were pristine and white, columns of stone holding up buildings in the ancient architecture of a lost civilization she had only read about in history books. Rome, or as some say Roma, a source of divine inspiration for the Elves of Elvehn. Bianca paid little attention to the Dead Worlds Theory, but it was worth at least garnering some knowledge of the subject.
Finally, Bianca approached a stable just beside the gate leading out of Aldhicus and towards the road to Elbafas. Roughly a day's journey to the border, she'd be in her home within the Heartland Fae and her adoptive sister Sha'ani in no time at all. Back to drinking ale and stew by the fire, practicing the bow with Segala and the other hunters, and of course the most important thing of all; the upcoming wedding.
Sha'ani would be married by this time in three days. Bianca had promised on her honor that she would return to herthe tribe before the wedding, and she intended to keep that promise. She handed the stablemaster, a young Elf about the same age as her, a few coins before walking with her towards the back of the stable where her trusty steed, a large black mare with a white mane, was waiting for her return.
"Any trouble?" Bianca asked, brushing the beautiful mare's coat and hugging her neck close.
The stablemaster shook her head. "Nope, a perfect customer. Hey, you wouldn't be willing to sell her, yeah? Purebred Fae Trotters are hard to come by these days."
"Nah, Beynon's not for sale." That and Galahan, the horsemaster of the Heartland Fae tribe, would have her head on a pike if she lost one of his prized mares. She was only permitted to borrow horses from the tribe under Verathorn's orders, though Galahan wasn't exactly thrilled to lend out his stock to anyone who wasn't a Faerie. "Ready for the trip back, Beynon?"
The mare gave a happy snort, and Bianca led the horse out of the stables before setting her saddle and weapons on her back. Her sword, a dagger, and her armor lay packed along with some food for the day's journey ahead. She'd be lighter with just her tunic and breeches, she thought as she hauled herself up onto the horse's back.
"Hold there, my lady!" A suave voice cut through the air as Bianca turned to see an Elven man dressed in a fine doublet and elegant robes standing among a group of what she believed to be servants or admirers. They could have been either from the way they stood close to him as though hanging on his every word.
Bianca arched an eyebrow. "Pardon me?"
"I had hoped to catch you before you left, Miss Miles." The Elf bowed. "Verunil Osselus, member of the Osselus family line, son of Praetor Verano Osselus, and one of ten Tribunes overseeing the fair city of Aldhicus."
Bianca's eyes widened. "Your name was on the contract! It's not everyday I meet one of my employers." It was a surprise. Most mercenaries were paid by bureaus dealing with assassinations, soldiers for hire, and monster slayers. The former being the most difficult to come by, while the latter two were the most commonly accepted jobs.
"The honor is mine, Bianca Miles. To meet the half-blood mercenary, the mongrel herself. It is a day to remember." Verunil clapped his hands together.
"Quite the move, Tribune Verunil. Using mercenaries to undermine the very empire your own family line built."
Verunil chuckled. "Not everyone in my family shares that line of thinking, my dear. Now, on to business--"
Bianca raised a hand to silence him. "Our contract has concluded, Tribune Verunil. Either post another bounty or leave my presence. My sword and spell desire naught but a cold drink, a warm bath, and an even warmer bed." She gripped the reins and began to turn her mare towards the gate when Verunil stepped in front of them.
"Ah, but it is not your sword nor spell I seek from you." Now Bianca was curious. Verunil smiled, but it wasn't one filled with kindness or any sort of friendly intentions. The way his eyes moved up and down her body made her grow uneasy, like a pit began to form in her stomach.
Bianca dropped down from Beynon and strode closer to the Elf. "What is it that you seek, then?"
"Well," Verunil said, clasping his hands together. "You are travelling to Elbafas, yes? Southern Elbafas, to the homeland of the Heartland Fae, if the legends regarding the famous mongrel are true. I happen to have business there, myself."
"So you seek an escort?" Bianca asked.
Verunil's grin grew ever wider. More sinister. "In a manner of speaking, yes. You see, my family owns an estate in the forests of Southern Elbafas. We're holding something of a gathering in three days time, and I'm unfortunately a bit short on… Female entertainment."
Female entertainment?
"Be plain with your words, Elf. You seek to lie with me, is that it?" Bianca was crude and to the point. The attendants around Verunil whispered, chuckled, and all of it made the tribune grow seemingly uncomfortable. He fidgeted with his hands, and his smile dropped from his face for a moment as he winced before recovering his demeanor.
"I seek nothing, my dear. I only wish to arrive at the gathering with a lovely woman on my arm. Bianca Miles, the dog that defies death, the mongrel who makes her home amongst Fae and the trees of Gaol. We'd simply drink, dance, and well, we would see where the night took us."
"And would I be paid for this little 'gathering' of yours?" Bianca asked, arching an eyebrow as she looked at one of the Elves behind him. He was holding a goblet, likely a cupbearer.
Verunil laughed and flung his arms out wide. "What else could you ask for? You'd be given a lavish dress, spend an evening within a luxurious manor, and even have the privilege to share a bed with the esteemed son of a Praetor. Surely worth your time, yes?"
Bianca hummed to herself as she reached for the cup, looking down into its contents. Full, nearly to the brim, of fine wine. "Just the son of a Praetor? Not an actual Praetor? My, these delusions of yours." She chuckled, swirling the wine in the cup before taking a long, exaggerated smell. "Hmm, Saturnus blend. Aged… fifty years? No, sixty. Not bad, but I've always preferred drinking indoors and not flaunting wine outside."
Verunil turned red as he stuttered and huffed while Bianca took a long sip of wine before spitting the contents back into the cup. "And why is that?" he asked, clearly annoyed.
Bianca smirked as she licked the remnants of wine from her lips. "Because this could happen." Without warning she tossed the wine in Verunil's face before kicking him directly in the chest, knocking him on his backside and toppling over three of the attendants behind him.
"Damn you! Guards!" Verunil cried. Gone was the overconfident, pompous tribune. Now, there was only a petty little child in his place.
Bianca reached for her sword, sheathed and tied to her saddle, and drew it before setting it alight and pointing it at the Elf's throat. The attendants were frozen in fear, the guards who had come running had come to a halt, and Verunil's face was one contorted into sheer horror. "A word of advice, Verunil. If you intend to bed a woman, any woman," she sighed and chuckled. "You may not want to call them things like mongrel or dog. Doesn't exactly put them in the mood. Well, unless they're into that sort of thing."
Verunil shook with fear, gripping the cobblestone street beneath him as Bianca swung her sword to the side, extinguishing it and sheathing it once again. She hauled herself onto her horse and gripped the reins.
"You will regret this! You hear me?! You will regret this day!" Verunil screamed as Bianca cracked the reins and rode out of the gate and towards her home of Elbafas.
***
The Dead Worlds Theory is a subject of academia that deals with the idea that all races originally came from other worlds. Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Faeries, and all other beings once lived on planes of existence beyond this one long before the common era. Most scholars can point to examples such as Orcs once being part of a demonic race called "Oni '' and Elvehn being heavily based on a civilization known as the Roman Empire. Most of it is pure speculation, however, and is subject to further study.
-From the office of Lambur Stonetooth of the College of Autumn's Gate