She assumed they were guards, at least. Judging by their crimson armor coats covered with steel scales and shining helmets, they were probably even imperial guards — part of the Emperor's military. Their boots were large and spiked, like the ones Friedrick always wore. The type that shook the earth with each step.
Abrial's eyes flashed like molten lava. Her vision flickered hot and red at the thought of Friedrick, and how similar these guards seemed to him.
The enormous guard standing in front of the beaten young magician was playing with something between his hands. Abrial tasted furious acid in her throat when she saw what it was: a thin, long, woven whip with what looked like small spikes on it. He was flicking it in circles as though it were a tassel or a toy.
"You little demon! I will repeat, as has been imperially decreed for hundreds of years, you and all those like you are barbarous and not fit to exist in our society. Admit it! You're scum, you magician!" The guard spat on the young magician, who lay limply on the ground, their chest rising weakly.
They raised their head the slightest bit, then lowered it again, saying nothing.
The whip flashed through the air. It cracked against the young magician's skin with the sound of thunder, and the magician swore hoarsely in pain. A guard close by raised a foot and kicked them, sending them sprawling in the other direction. The spikes on his boot left cuts bleeding scarlet down the magician's shoulder, the sleeve of their robe hanging in shambles.
Abrial's fists began to shake. Her teeth ground at each other like a pestle and mortar. Something was bubbling up within her, fiery and violent, like scarlet molten rock, threatening to burst out of every orifice of her body.
"This weak little bastard, heh." The guard with the whip laughed. He spat again at the magician, his spit landing in their relatively short, dark hair. "You dared to attack a guard with your unclean demon's magic — you lunatic scum! Who knows who you would have attacked next? Magicians like you live to inflict pain, to curse others, to bring hardship. Now, will you say it or not? Admit that you're filthy, vile waste! Then, I might spare your puny, disgusting little life today. I'm in a good mood, heh."
The young magician attempted to move further away from the guard, but they were moving slowly as a crippled person. Their left arm didn't seem to be working.
"That…stupid guard…was fucking…stealing from…me…" they mumbled hoarsely.
The guard smirked, lip curling leeringly.
"Be careful with that dirty mouth, accusing the Emperor's guards of theft when you've cursed everyone in this village with your presence. If you won't admit you're scum yet, I'm happy to give you another ten rounds!"
The whip flew through the air in a twisted arc. The young magician curled up as best as they could to shield themself, scrunching their swollen eyes shut.
Whoosh.
A dagger slashed through the air, slicing the whip in two. Half of it fell to the ground with a flump at the guard's feet.
Abrial stood between the guard and the magician, the dagger gripped tightly in her hand. Around her, her black and scarlet robes fluttered like blood and stone. Her obsidian eyes smoked with a dangerously dark, burnt rage.
The guard blinked, thrown off for a moment. Then his face split into a wide, square-toothed grin. He began to splutter with laughter, pointing a thick finger at Abrial as he wheezed.
"You're defending this bastard? Are you its lover? Come to save its worthless bum?"
Abrial gnashed her teeth, eyes flashing. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking worthless scum!"
Suddenly, the guard's howls faded away. His lip twitched, along with one of his dark, wide eyes. Slowly, very slowly, he bent down to Abrial's height, twirling the half-whip near her face.
"Little lady," he growled, his voice unplayful. "Unless you're this scum's lover or sister, it would seem to me that you have no intelligent reason to be acting like this right now — unless you're either stupid…or you're also a demonic magician who needs to be dealt with in accordance with imperial law."
The crowd gasped.
"I knew it!" one person called. "She was wearing black, and she looked so livid! A demonic magician, for sure!"
Abrial hardly heard them.
"So what if I was a magician?" she spat. "Who the fuck cares? Tell me what's wrong with magic?! And tell me what crime this person committed for you to beat them almost to death! RIGHT NOW! Or get the fuck out of here!"
The guard's lip curled back at her. His eye continued to twitch with rage.
He lowered the whip slowly, tracing it along the side of her bare neck, down to her pale collarbone like a scratching finger. It left a thin, pink mark where it touched her skin.
"So I've got a little bitch on my hands, have I? Listen here — magic itself is a sin. Hasn't anyone told you? For that, both of you ought to be tortured to death as an example, and to cleanse this innocent village of curses. But wouldn't it be a shame if this pretty little neck of yours was scarred with whip marks for the rest of your life?"
Nausea roiled in Abrial's stomach. Her vision went red.
Silver flashed through the air. Something dropped to the dirt with a quiet flump.
It was the other half of the whip —
along with the guard's index finger.
The crowd gasped in horror.
Abrial's dagger gleamed crimson in her fist, dripping thick drops of blood. Her eyes smoldered with revulsion and satisfaction.
A drop of blood dripped from the guard's hand to the ground. It splattered the half-whip, sliding down its side into the dirt.
"You little bitch."
The guard's voice was trembling. His lips curled into a snarl. He raised his now four-fingered hand, quivering with rage, to point at Abrial — or, just to gesture vaguely at her, since he didn't exactly have an index finger to point with anymore, heh.
"You little whore!"
Abrial's eyes glittered with dark fire, black as onyx. With every one of his words, her lips curled into a more enraged scowl.
The guard continued, his voice shaking and swelling in volume to a troll's beastly bellow.
"You think you can get away with cutting off the finger of one of the highest-ranking generals in the Emperor's military? Do you even know who I am?! You little bitch, you whore, you think, just because you're fast with a knife and have a rebel streak, you can get away with anything? You think you can raise a finger against me, His Divine and Immortal Majesty the Emperor's Imperial General Magnus, and live?"
Abrial snorted, squinting at this buff man in disdain.
"Raise a finger against you? An imperial general, or whatever? If you're the standard for imperial generals, the Emperor's military has gotta be really laughable. All I see is a big, stupid oaf who works for a silly, stupid Emperor. Heh…imperial general my ass…"
The crowd gasped around her, with even more horror than before, if that was possible. Everyone broke into a shocked muttering.
"Did you hear that?"
"She called His Divine Majesty silly!"
"Stupid, too! What a deadly sin…What a demon she is!"
The guard's mouth curled into a sick smile. He wiped his hand on the cloth of his pants, letting the blood soak into it in a growing stain.
"You show the utmost disrespect for His Majesty, I see. You're giving me more reasons to tear you apart limb from limb every moment." He grinned, showing a mouth of squared, half-yellowed teeth. His dark eyes gleamed like greedy prisms, inspecting her up and down. "I'm going to torture you until you can't remember how to use that cheeky mouth to speak even one more word, you little demoness. And then…I'll kill you. Because I can! Heh."
With that, he lunged forward like an enormous, ferocious bear.