Tonight was the Carmine Festival, five hours before my recruitment trial. I stand amongst the crowd, analyzing every space in the several courtyards and main squares in my village. The General's house is in another city, but the main festivities of Carmine are in my city. No matter how small we may be, we celebrate it more than any other city in the entire Red Kingdom. Therefore the General and his soldiers will be roaming the streets of Poor Man's Grove in t minus 2 hours.
I take inventory of my weapons when I enter my room. It is now one hour until festivities start, which meant I had to leave now. Kat hasn't spoken to me since that night, she's barely been home herself in the last three days. I know she came into my room last night, however. She sat next to my bed as she usually does, whispering her day's events. She says it's better to talk to a sleeping person, especially if it is me. Her burdens and guilt can dissipate into the night air, yet the comfort of having someone nearby who understands is better than keeping it bottled up. Last night was different. I pretended to be asleep this time, since I couldn't sleep regardless. She cried, and apologized more times than I could count.
I realise that even if I had this life forced upon me, Kat herself wanted neither of us to live this kind of life. She is nearing her forties, and even at this age she is still a hopeless romantic. I see the way she glances at the older men, the way they smile at her, kissing the back of her calloused hands. But those hands were calloused for a reason, a terrifying, depressing reminder of what she couldn't have.
Night is near, and Kat still isn't home. I take the liberty to have my last bath in the comfort of my own home. My last meal is by my lonesome, but never in isolation. I imagine her being here, as well as my parents, as well as Alec. I change, sheath my daggers in the holders around my thigh, one in my knee high boots, another in my arm straps. I leave a note for Kat, shorter than most but concise enough that she understands every thought I'm meant to convey. I start out into the night, hood over my head and a cool, collected calmness I've trained into my system.
The trees of the northern forest look before me, the only thing separating me from Shern City, the city of the Second Red Guard General. Festivities are now two hours in, which means the guard will be busy until sunrise.
The smell of green sap and damp grass from the night's dew swirl around me like an old friend, I welcome the familiar comfort of nature that I have sought solace in since I was a girl.
The roots of the oak trees are unruly and wild, which just means if given chase, I will be able to outrun my pursuers if I memorize these paths. But I am thinking too far ahead. I will not be pursued through these trees. I will succeed, and I will escape without a second thought. I will join the Reaper and his fellow Creepers. I will live with Kat until death comes knocking at my door. That is all I want.
I breech the edge of the forest with ease, scanning the area for the seventh time. The streets of this quiet village at the southern border of Shern city are empty. Most likely from the festivities in mine. Shern people are very suspicious of outsiders. It's like they can tell with one glance that you do not belong here. I have to be careful not to draw any attention or I'm finished before I've even started.
I ghost through the outermost part of the village, through dark streets like a shadow in the night. A few faces can be seen loitering around, talking and laughing and spending their nights at twenty-four hour pubs.
The General's house sits atop a grassy knoll several yards away, his fences are high with intricate designs and black coloring but it's not enough to draw attention away from the barbed wire knotted through. I count four guards on the northern front, that means at least dozens more on the inside. So how do I get in?
Women in the four Kingdoms are respected in the Guard, no matter the age or reputation. The Red Kingdom however, follows the tradition of honour a little less than the others. Particularly enjoying the physical aspects they can provide. Will I be able to seduce them into the mansion if I use my strengths wisely? Then again, my feminine strengths were never considered strong to begin with. I've never flowed with grace like the courtesans of the higher paid class. Not even like Linda at the bakery when she flashes that beautiful smile to attract wandering customers. Kat allowed me to grow as I wished, and that usually involved playing among the trees, notching an arrow and swimming in the river with the younger boys in my neighborhood.
I have to try nonetheless. I drape the half assed basket that I stole from a shopkeeper in front of my dark purple cloak, the hood thrown back to allow unruly ringlets of brown to tumble over my shoulders. My cheeks were already flushed from trudging through thick moss and high roots for the past few hours.
Walking with a forged petite grace I learned from Madame Bovary, who visited Kat for lunch every fortnite, I approach the guards with caution.
"Speak your business woman." The one with a red, grueling scar plastering his neck speaks. "This area is off limits."
"I-I have gifts for the general." I mutter, hoping the submissive act with more likely get them to take me inside. Gahr and Xom, the kingdoms of Blue and Green respectively, admired strength and boldness in women. For the Red Kingdom, because of the economic stability, our women were either housewives or third class workers. They were gentle and submissive. The few that made it into the Red Guard were chosen by the Queen herself; emboldened and strong. Even if I did try to become like them, they'd recognize my face instantly and send me off for impersonation of royal guard affairs.
"On whose orders?" The second one beams. I slump a little behind my basket, although I really want to stand straighter against them, I cannot risk it.
"Nobody's, sir. The festivities of Carmine have stretched far enough into Shern city. My aunt has requested me a trip to see the general as an offer of thanks. He saved her life. It is simply goodwill."
The men stare at me in consideration and I do not miss the glance they give each other behind the veil of their masks. "Even though it is an honorable gesture, miss, we cannot accept. The General has not returned from the Grove and will not until first light. He has fired his poison tester just last week, we cannot inspect the food ourselves." The man with the ponytail eyes the one speaking warily. He has revealed too much. "I hope you understand."
"I do. Thank you anyways sir. Have a good night." They stare at me with an emotion that does not enter the placid kindness of their smiles and as I turn, I catch a glimpse of someone in the eastern treeline. A woman. My plan B.
°•°•°•°•
An hour into trudging down the path and swerving to once again greet the treeline out of sight from the guards, I drop the basket into a hollow of a tree. I pursue the position of the woman on silent, swift feet. She is still there when I approach. She hums absentmindedly, picking bright yellow flowers that are splattered with hues of black and green. Yellowstone Glass Lilies. Why does the General have a rare sleeping flower in the middle of his land? And why is his servant picking them as if they are a common sight to be seen in Lyth? Sleeping lilies we're widely known as a weapon in past wars. It's potency could collapse a village in a minute with the right amount. It was dangerous to be used for anything else, but with it's rarity, a lot of people weren't aware of it's capabilities. There are rumours that it can cure insomnia, but only for a little time before the ingredients intoxicate you permanently.
I slowly approach her, my hand twitching anxiously to get this over with. I pick a Yellowstone lily from behind her, immediately draining it of its pollen. I step on a branch purposely, she spins around and I litter the pollen through the air, my hand already covering any entryways into my body. She collapses almost immediately and I strip her of her clothing. I am not as ruthless to leave her half naked in the woods, so I drape my cloak over her form. She'll be awake by sunrise.
The servants entry is not hard to find once I enter the open side gate. The guards pay no attention to me, most likely thinking I'm the woman from before, coupled with being obscured in darkness. It is the only brown door that rests in the dead center of the darkened purple walls of the mansion. There is no other door in sight. The curtains for the windows are all drawn, no shaded light to be seen spanning this side of the house. I walk in with the handpicked lillies, warily studying the kitchen and connecting hallways. There is no one in sight. That was the first strange thing I see. The second is that a child sits in the middle of the floor, scarfing down fresh baked bread like it's her last meal.
"Hello." I say softly, as if not to scare the mouse of a child. I am but a lion's roar in her ears, she scampers off, leaving crumbs trailing behind her. Strange. It is not what I expect of the House of the General. Maybe this will be easier than I think.
I drop the lilies and wander around the house, sticking to the shadows of alcoves and hallways. There are only a few other servants in sight, most likely maids of housekeeping. I skid on my heels when I turn, immediately gripping the nearest railing incase I fall. There is a woman staring straight at me, nonchalant and silent. After what seems to be eternity, she smiles, a tired smile that stretches across taut features. "Is that you Daina?" She asks. "You reek of those awful lillies again. Take a bath before the night is up, will you?"
Her smile does not fade. I wave my hand in front of her face, and immediately retract it when she does not move. My heart drops. The woman only knows who I am by scent and hearing. "Will do." I say softly, adding tired sighs through my voice to make it harder for her to distinguish. She scrunches her eyebrows for a brief second before humming and leaving me to stunned silence. This isn't a General's home, it's a station for oddities. Blind old women? Starving children? No guards that loiter the corridors or main halls. Sleeping lilies.
I make my way to the room at the end of a long hall, and I know instantly it is the General's room from the sheer size of the gold entwined double doors resting against a black outline. Again, no guards. Maybe because the general is on duty, no soul can assassinate him in his own home. Such a pity I'm here then.
I turn the handle, and it opens. The room is sullen and heavy with remnant emotions. I can feel it drifting inbetween the dark red sheets that have not been touched in a while. The pulled curtains that protect the room from the full moonlight that pronounces the ongoing festivities. Papers on a desk that have been piled so high, you could've sworn there was no General living here. I tiptoe to the wooden, symbol encrusted dresser, the only thing that tells me this room belongs to the General. His clothes are all Red, as expected, and the others are merely loose fitting shirts and trousers made for wearing to a family gathering. The drawers are all locked and there are no pictures or items that can tell me who this man is.
I take out my thigh dagger, my favorite blade, and thrust it into the keyhole with easy grace. I fiddle and turn until the lock clicks and the drawer slides open. There is nothing inside. Why have a locked drawer with nothing of value?
Since I have no information on this man's identity, I have no choice but to wait. As soon as I've made my mind up, there are voices from outside and I freeze, a cold invisible hand glides torturous fingers down the length of my spine. I do not think. I throw myself to the floor and roll under the bed before the knob turns and footsteps echo along the metal bed frame.
"--for the night. I've had matters to attend to for a while. Vice Captain Creval will respond to any grievances for the next couple days." A heavy, husky voice calls from the room. The only response is a 'Yes General' from the other side.
General.
He is here.