"You must duck the sword down and then point it under the cleavage," the general commander instructed me, his eyes fierce with intensity.
"Commander, do you remember the great General Yachee?" I asked him while wiping the pearls of sweat from my forehead.
I decided to do some practice hand to hand combat before leaving. My trusted commander had taught me everything after Leo's father.
"Who? The legendary Yachee?" commander lifted his gaze to confirm
"Yes. He taught me this technique... the technique of obtentus. It's about showing something different from the actual situation, the art of disgu...." My mind raced, blood pooled in my veins, realizing how I could infiltrate Berserk. The path was clear now, and I just needed a bit of help from Maansa. She would probably kill me for the weird ideas I was brewing lately.
The consequences of this all would be greater than any discomfort that ever came upon me and my people, but to bring myself peace I had to do this.
"Thank you, Commander. You are a genius!" I shook his hand firmly and dashed inside. Leaving his confused gaze, I called to my handmaiden to get me best armor of a male warrior.
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The grand hallways of the castle echoed with my hurried footsteps. Each stride felt like a heartbeat, steady and relentless. I burst into my chambers, where Maansa awaited, a bundle of disguises and armor laid out on the bed.
"How do men wear this? It's so heavy," I groaned, adjusting the armor that felt like an iron cage around my chest and shoulders.
"You need to cover that chest of yours, no matter what. That can only give you away," Maansa replied, her eyes sharp with determination. She inspected the armor, ensuring every piece was perfectly fitted.
"Nobody can even notice its outline beneath so many layers of this metal armor... but it kinda looks good on me, doesn't it?" I smirked at her, trying to lighten the oppressive mood.
"Listen, dear!" Maansa's fingers deftly worked through my hair, scooping the long, silky strands into her hands. She combed them meticulously before twisting them into a tight bun at the back of my head. "You need to be careful and always keep them in a bun. Men there keep their long hair in a bun, and nobody will doubt you."
"Maansa, everything is settled, but what about my voice? It still sounds feminine," I voiced my concern, feeling a pang of anxiety.
"Uh... Silva!" Maansa called out, her voice echoing through the corridor. "Bring the berula from the garden."
"What for?" I asked, my curiosity piqued but my tone edged with apprehension.
Maansa widened her eyes, signaling me to hush. "Go now, hurry up." Silva, our loyal servant, stood there, startled to see me in armor, my transformation evident.
I was no longer a princess adorned in delicate silks and jewels. I was a warrior, a phantom from afar, ready to serve the new majesty. I was Zamanth now—strong, powerful, and deadly.
Silva returned with the berula, a potent herb, something that grew all over the zephyr floor, poisonous and deadly if consumed in large amounts. Thus we used it to kill rodents . "Here, chew this for a few minutes and then spit it out," Maansa instructed, handing me the herb with a stern look.
"No, you are kidding me right?" My eyes widened in disbelief
As soon as I placed the herb in my mouth, the sour and bitter juice burned my tongue. The internal walls of my cheeks radiated heat, and I was on the verge of throwing up. Maansa, ever vigilant, clamped her hand over my mouth.
"You are doing this for your mother... darker times are ahead, chew it properly. Take it in slowly" she whispered, her voice a mix of comfort and urgency.
She was right. I was more than this moment. I had to be. This is nothing if I was going on war, then this was nothing. I continued to chew, despite the agony of the burn and the nausea. My resolve hardened with each painful bite.
"Okay, now spit it out." Maansa held a bronze bowl, and I expelled the greenish, chewed herb that now smelled faintly of roses.
"What was this for?" As soon as I spoke, I understood. My voice was coarse, masculine. I stood up, my eyes fixed on the sword that killed my mother. It had a line of silver in it too—the blood of Lykos, the vile creature. I wanted more of it. I wanted him here, in this palace, lifeless at my feet. I wanted my castle to have my sword laced in silver hanging on the walls that my mother touched.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear the congestion of nerves that settled in my chest.
"Silva will be with you in Bersek. She'll stay with her relatives. Write to her when you need help, and don't forget to write to me. And one more thing... always wear your necklace. You might find Leo. When he is close, you'll feel the moon pendant warming, and you'll know. Speak only when necessary, and remember, a wound lasts longer when the nails are driven slowly and deeply."
"I am ready, Maansa." I hugged her tightly, feeling her tears dampen my shoulder.
As she held me, legends and kindness of my mother flooded my mind. Her grace, her strength, her unwavering love for her people. The day she was taken away from me, the blood, the screams, the cold silence that followed in our home was my right to avenge.
I had vowed revenge then, and now, standing on the precipice of destiny, I felt the weight of that vow like a mantle of iron.
Maansa pulled back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You have your mother's spirit, Princess. She would be so proud of you."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I will bring justice to her wounds, Maansa. I promise."
With a final, resolute breath, I stepped back, my heart set on revenge, my soul prepared for the battles to come. I adjusted the armor one last time, feeling its weight, both literal and symbolic. I was ready to face whatever awaited me in Berserk.
The warrior standing in front of Maansa was no longer the graceful princess Zareena, she was now the strongest and fastest man. The blood thirsty warrior ZAMAANTH.