Thanatyr
Member
Docendo Discimus
3210 words
3210 words
The flat of the training blade struck padding on Fiora’s stomach, still the blow had enough force to drive the breath from her lungs. She had been on the offensive, a strategic mistake when using a rapier against a skilled opponent with a sword and shield. Gritting her teeth, the spurii took a step back, almost tripping over a scrap metal bin that sat against the alley wall, and took her stance once more.
Although spring was upon them with warmer weather, the brisk northern wind cooled both women despite the heavy padding of their practice gear. Weathered leather was scuffed from previous use but well-tended and sturdy. Each set was embroidered with the shield of the conexus on the right shoulder pad. Borrowed gear from the precinct, Fiora had been told. The evening sun gave enough light for their sparring, a pair of lanterns on the ground would be suitable replacements in an hour or two.
They had tried to use the apartment, but the noise combined with the plumes of falling dust from their combat disrupted the patrons below. A smashed potted plant was the final straw that led Lorenzo to kicking them to the back alley. Even so, their practices were sometimes interrupted by Lorenzo, offering roses, water and even the odd backrub to Diana. He would relent for the day if she ignored him, only to persistently attempt again.
“You really need to be more careful,” Diana cautioned while adjusting her leather dueling helmet, waiting for Fiora to catch her breath. She slapped her shield with her sword indicating she was ready for another bout, “otherwise it will take us even more time to clean up your poor form!”
“I’ve learned a few things already,” Fiora twirled her blunted rapier in hand. “Like how you prefer to block on your left!” She sprang forward without warning, blindly striking at Diana’s right side.
Diana shifted her footing with equal speed. Letting go of her shield she grabbed Fiora’s forearm, yanking her off balance. With the same motion she planted her shoulder into Fiora’s chest, and pivoted her weight, throwing the spurii head over heels across the cobblestones.
Stunned, Fiora lay motionless blinking up at the sky, dazed by the turn of events. Sweat trickled down her temple, her muscles burned from exertion. After a momentary pause she screamed her frustration and pounded her free hand on the ground. She pushed off her helmet, scrubbing sweat out of her eyes with the back of her hand.
“If you keep pushing yourself like this, you’re going to get hurt,” Diana softly cautioned the young woman as she lowered herself to sit on the roughhewn stone next to Fiora. She removed her helmet, craned her neck until it gave a satisfying pop and sighed.
Allowing a few minutes of silence for Fiora to unwind, she spoke up once more, “I’ve seen training injuries like this before. Usually from a Demvir testing their limits, or some of the officers trying to impress someone, and stupidly trying to lift more than they’re capable. What you’re doing now I’ve also seen, and it’s not healthy. Things are going to go badly if you keep pushing yourself at this pace. Are you sure you just want to focus on your swordplay? There’s a few tricks I could show you down at the gun range...”
Fiora inhaled, her nose suddenly and vividly filled with the stench of gunpowder mingled with blood. Her empty left hand weighed down by the cold steel of the smoking revolver. A single thunderous crack sounded, her ears echoed with a high pitched ring. She violently shook her head to remove the memory from her mind, then jolted upright and cried out.
“No!” She clenched her hand to quell the tremble. Diana’s questioning hum of concern caused Fiora to shake her head again, although only to turn down the inquiry. She took few a deep breaths to steady the twisting of her stomach and bile that had risen in her throat.
“Rather, no thank you,” she continued as Diana’s expression remained unchanged. “I’m fine with what we’re doing. Just need to work on my technique is all,” she insisted, ignoring the way her heart thundered in her chest over the idea.
She breathed slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth, her right hand clenching and releasing the grip of her rapier in time with her meditative technique. Soon enough, her heart rate returned mostly to normal, though the nausea did not abate. A minor attack, thankfully. This one had been nowhere near as bad as the one she had had a few days previous when a vehicle had backfired out on the street. That night the stress from the experience kept her awake until dawn.
“You know if you want to talk, I’m here,” Diana slung her arm over Fiora’s shoulders, a comforting gesture that she leaned into. “That’s part of why I keep coming to practice with you in my off duty time, I’ve been where you are. Remember?”
“The enlil that pulled a gun on you, and shot your partner. Yeah, I remember.” Fiora nodded in understanding. Diana had confided the story of the first time she had to shoot someone to Fiora just a few days after the alley incident. Having someone who had been in a similar situation and could relate was a blessing.
“Yeah, my Captain understood what I was going through and helped me, like his captain had done for him, once upon a time. Got me helping out as the precinct combat instructor in my off time. I figured a whole bunch of seasoned officers didn’t take kindly to a rookie trying to show them the ropes, and I was terrified. With the grace of the Vis, and some supportive officers, I was able to pull it off. It’s been a difficult road, one I’m still not entirely at ease with. I mean how many conexus officers can say they had a fiancé as their partner, who died in the line of duty because they fucked up?” Diana choked on the last word and went silent, obviously fighting back tears. The sounds of grinding metal and gears drifted through the open workshop window above them. Footsteps echoed and a door slammed shut somewhere in the building behind them before Diana spoke again.
“Every officer that survived thanks to the training I gave them has come to thank me. Without them, I might as well have resigned my commission and become even more of a hermit. Did you know your brother was the first person I’ve dated since then? And I only said yes because you appeared to be in need of a friend.”
Brushing her hair back from her face, Diana continued, “my own father didn’t understand, he figured it was just like firing at someone in a battlefield, and losing a soldier. Because I got angry at him, my mother rarely spoke about it. Being in the military runs in the family, so talking back to the colonel made this nasty rift. To him, killing someone was a duty that anyone should be able to do. He was wrong, about so many things. But don’t think I’m saying that taking any life is ever easy. Sometimes there’s no other choice.”
“There’s always another choice,” Fiora whispered, curling tighter into herself. She knew that to be a lie, but it was a lie she forced herself to swallow. There had to have been some other way than to commit such a violent act. There had to have been some option that would not have led to Ennius being stabbed. There had to be something, she told herself, otherwise all of the grief roiling in her gut day after day was futile to resist.
“Well, you’re troubled by what happened, that tells me you’re a good person, “Diana picked up her helmet, propping it on her fist like a puppet, “So, one more round?”
“No, I think I’ll go look into that bounty you’re not talking about instead...” Fiora sighed, snatched up her helmet, and clambered back to her feet.
“You know there’s nothing else on the bounty scrip,” Diana spun her helmet, pondering her next few words. She threw the helm upwards with a flourish, catching it upright on her shield. “But I suppose I could tell you one thing. If, and only if, you beat me in this next round. However, when I win, you have to drop the subject for an entire month.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Fiora’s face tightened with determination. She straightened her helmet, took two steps down the alley, and fell into her ready position. When Diana had her helmet on and nodded to start, a thought crossed the spurii’s mind. She stayed in place, a first in all their matches.
A handful of breaths passed, faintly discernable over the sound of traffic outside the alley. Diana shuffled, cautiously eyeing Fiora’s posture. Still Fiora held, no matter how much her mind screamed to attack, her muscles trembled desperate to leap into action.
Diana shot forward, a blur of action. The dull leather of the training sword stabbed forward past her shield.
Fiora’s parry was an obvious move, one Diana likely anticipated. Her right arm glanced wide from the strike, her shield readied to push Fiora back.
What Diana had not expected was the blunted end of a rapier jabbing sharply against her shoulder, a clean hit signaling the end of the bout, and her loss. The first in all their sparring over the past weeks. Fiora grinned widely in triumph, hardly believing the tactic had worked.
“You used the gap created by your parry,” Diana laughed, rubbing the spot where she was hit. She tried to hide a wince with another laugh, surely she would be sporting a bruise, “I knew you were learning! Certainly took you long enough.”
Fiora was smugly smiling, swishing her training rapier in the air, mimicking the strike that brought her victory, “Well, if I can win against you, then...”
“Then you’re liable to get hurt because you’re overconfident. You tried something new, now practice it,” Diana rolled her shoulder to stretch it, and fell into a ready position. “I mean, just because you won doesn’t mean you’re ready to take on a Vis cursed monster!”
“Before you try and make me forget, talk,” Fiora planted her rapier point on the ground. “That was the agreement, wasn’t it?”
“Talk and fence, if you would,” Diana launched a new attack, much more guarded than before.
Fiora side stepped closer to the door, and dropped her rapier. Her lips were drawn thin, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“No, that wasn’t the deal. What do you know about the bounty, Diana?” Fiora snapped, biting off each word. Diana scowled and charged with her shield. The metal caught the padding around Fiora’s stomach, she was pushed against the workshop door and lifted just barely off the ground.
“I know that no one has taken it,” Diana dropped her sword, and braced her shield so that the blunted edge was not digging into Fiora’s ribs quite so painfully.
“Either because they’re afraid they’ll be killed by a mythical monster, or they don’t believe it exists. Why do you keep pushing for this bounty? You aren’t ready for this! The creature is a Vis damned Vistra. Kill the host, it will jump to you. Then what’s your plan?”
The wood behind Fiora groaned in protest, she struggled to get free. A sharp metal click sounded, and both women fell through the door into the workshop, landing in an ungraceful tangle. Lorenzo turned from his workbench at their entrance, a sloppy smile on his face and an empty bottle on the ground beside his feet.
He spoke up, his words slurred, “I’ve been curious about that myself, sis, what is your grand plan? Beyond reading that story book, have you done any research?”
Diana rolled away from Fiora and to her feet, dusting herself off. Fiora sighed noisily through her nose, stole a glance at Diana, then inhaled to curse him out. She glared at her brother and froze, eyes widened in shock. His arm was covered in bloody linen, tied together with a haphazard knot. From behind the door, metal clinked and a fist sized object launched towards Lorenzo. The polished steel caused the light to scatter around it.
“So letting us in wasn’t just because you were eavesdropping. You went and created what appears to be a drone, but couldn’t be bothered to act like an adult and just ask for help implanting your control node?” Diana asked in disbelief.
Fiora shook her head at her brother’s idiocy, worry still creased her brow. Standing, she thought to lend a hand by hauling him upstairs to sleep off his drunkenness. The finely crafted plates of metal, created to mimic feathers, on the object caught her eye as the construct preened itself now perched on Lorenzo’s shoulder. The drone vaguely reminded her of songbirds back home in Prenditus.
As Diana approached Lorenzo, she scrunched up her nose at the overwhelming odour of whiskey emanating from his person. She lightly placed her hand over the bandaging to assess his injury, “and you’ve been drinking. You really are an idiot, you could have bled out if this didn’t clot up. You know the core of your little bird only needed a drop of your blood, not all of this, right? Hold still. Oh wondrous light...”
“Well it was gonna hurt, putting the thingy in!” Lorenzo talked so loud the remaining words of Diana’s prayer of healing were drowned out, he cried out in pain when his flailing about was stilled by Diana grabbing his arm forcibly. He heavily pet the metal bird which perched on his shoulder. Subdued, his eyes drifted away from what Diana was doing to a random spot on the wall, which he stared at for some length of time, before seeming to snap to his senses.
His face lit up, his free hand gesturing at his temple as if he was pulling a memory free of his alcohol addled mind manually, “oh right! You probably want to know why I was making this mechanical magic and drinking by my lonesome. Parently grandpa is gonna be here in a couple month for an inspection, and he expects a store with his name on it to be in tip-top shape. That’s not so much the problem for us, the guy that came to tell me was. Bald bastard gave me the heeby jeebies!” Lorenzo shuddered dramatically, an action that earned him an annoyed swat from Diana.
“But he had the, um...” Lorenzo trailed off once more, staring ahead. Fiora swallowed down the lump in her throat. The news that her grandfather was coming across the ocean just to pay Lorenzo a visit was worrying enough. Yet she had seen the type of people her racist grandfather knew in the city. She sat on Lorenzo’s workbench, clenching the edge with both hands.
Lorenzo jolted forward his hand waving near his neck, the motion so sudden it nearly startled Fiora off of her perch. “Drawing thing. Ink, tattoo! That’s the word! He had the star of Castus, right where the guy from the night of the opera had it. The guy with the knife! Gave me the creeps. I didn’t want to make the customers all nervous by getting you two, so I decided to crack a bottle of wine after he left to calm my nerves.”
“Then it seemed like a good idea to drink more,” he glanced down, kicking the empty whiskey bottle. The motion caused his metallic creation to lose its grip on his jacket, Lorenzo reached up and nudged it back upright, “Oh, and test this prototype! He’s gonna help me fight, since I can’t. Gonna have a nice gun it and everything! Still needs a name. ‘Sir Steelwing’ is corny, even for me.”
Fiora thought for a moment and took a deep breath, ready to speak up. Many questions she wanted to ask her brother swirled rapidly in her mind. What this man looked like, what he wore, what direction he travelled when he left the shop. Instead Lorenzo launched freely into his next thought, interrupting her.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” Lorenzo looked up to Diana, face a mixture of sorrow and regret. She was busy unwinding the blood stained rags he had wound around his arm, revealing only a faint but fresh scar, the wound healed by her spell.
“I feel like ass, and that’s not just the booze. I’m gonna stop, leave you be when you’re here, promise. Well, remind me when I’m sober, or hit me, then remind me. I didn’t know you lost someone close to you, was...”
Diana held a finger up to his lips, quieting the man utterly with a faint smile. He slumped in relief at her obvious acceptance of his apology. He turned to look at his sister, still deep in her own thoughts, and he squinted at her as if she was a puzzle he could not solve, then his eyes lit up.
“But you, you didn’t answer my question!” Lorenzo pointed towards Fiora, nearly falling off his chair until Diana caught him.
He smiled briefly at her then asked his sister, “what’s your plan for the vistra? So you don’t get all puppeted by the explody thing?”
“I don’t know,” Fiora admitted, she slid off the workbench to curl up on the ground, with her knees against her chest. She began considering it, beyond the usual urges to pack up and hunt the creature down. She thought of the storybook Lorenzo drunkenly mocked her for just moments before. Surely if one book for children had some information, there had to be more.
“The Arcanum should have loads of information on, well... everything. Historic vistra encounters since the cataclysm, maybe there’s something on the Fæstrines, there has to be something I can find in their records.”
She stood, determination flooding her with sudden energy, and instantly regretted it. Her muscles screamed for less motion, and she all but hobbled her way back to the alley. There she scooped up the training swords, and made her way back inside.
“Do you really think the public libraries will have enough information?” Diana questioned, twisting Lorenzo’s arm to inspect the scar.
“Well, I suppose I need to make a trip of it, I intend to find out,” Fiora admitted.
Swatting the back of Lorenzo’s head Diana scolded him, “you shouldn’t have been moving around,at scar will be with you for a while now. Typically I’ve been able to heal cuts without that, just look at your sister’s leg!”
Fiora gingerly started to undo the training armor, wincing when she came across her own fair share of bruises. “Now, onto the bigger news. When is the old bigot going to be here, how can he have contacts with a Castus be-damned laicar supremacist group?”
She set the training supplies on the ground, stretching as much as her aching muscles would allow, “More importantly, how are we going to hide the velen architecture of the pool from him?”