The Chronicles of Phoenix Bloodheart I: Turning Red

Chapter XVIII: War

Seven and Phoenix carefully make their way back through the streets of Silvermoon to the relative safety of the small garden where they were dropped off earlier.

Hace is sitting on the earthy ground, his back to the wagon, asleep. His snoring is loud and buzzes through the air like a saw, his straw hat on the floor beside him.

Phoenix, no longer bothered about offending the stubborn man and in no mood for wasting time, leans over him and slaps him around the face a little harder than necessary. She smells the stench of beer on his course face, rough with stubble, as it grimaces and groans.

"Enjoy your drinking and whoring did you? Well, time to get us out of here now," she commands with a quiet yet forceful voice, feeling more confident and in control following the fight. Seven dumps the sack of mana crystals into the wagon and looks on apprehensively. The thought of taking goods, fighting off assailants and being a wanted woman in the city makes Phoenix feel a little giddy with delight. And she doesn't want this driver to ruin things.

Hace, moving like a sloth and slurring like he's drunk a tavern full of ale, has other ideas. He turns his head towards Phoenix's face but fails to focus on her eyes, instead looking up at the clouds.

"Oh there you are Marina, my beautiful Marina..." Hace sings.

He's stone drunk.

"Now listen here," Phoenix says, suddenly grabbing his collar and pulling him tightly towards her, "I'm not your Marina, and I don't care if you're too sozzled to look straight. You could have a damn plague and I wouldn't care, there's no way I'm staying here all day. You're going to sober up and drive us out of the city. You hear me?"

Hace thinks about this for a moment, a contorted smirk spreading wide across his face. He begins to titter in a silly, high-pitched noise.

Phoenix stamps the heel of her leather boot at the point between the bottom of Hace's left shin and his foot. He reacts faster than a sloth this time, crying out and leaning towards the ground.

Seven intervenes, moving between the pair of them and gently guiding Phoenix away from the elf. He glances down at the sorry sight of this drunken fool, who is beginning to laugh again, and looks at Phoenix with uncertainty, in search of answers.

"We could get him a remedy to sober him up?" Seven suggests unconvincingly.

Phoenix begins unfastening her red tunic.

"Get in the wagon, Seven," she states. "I'm not mucking about wasting time with this idiot any further."

Seven sighs. There is no room for negotiation. He clambers into the wagon and sits up, watching Phoenix with curiosity.

With her back facing the orc, Phoenix removes her tunic and throws it towards Seven, revealing her still-developing teenage body, smooth peach-coloured skin and bra underneath. He looks away, shyly.

Phoenix removes her gloves next, kicks off her boots and begins to forcefully pull off Hace's shirt.

"Oh! Marina," he enthuses, leaning up towards Phoenix. She pushes her tight-laden foot into his shoulder, forcing him back to the ground as she wraps his alcohol-soaked shirt around her body, turning her nose up. Next, she pulls Hace's trousers off and places her own legs into the brown, baggy garments, tightening her belt around them. She removes the sceptre and throws it onto the back of the wagon.

"You're not..." Seven starts.

"I am," Phoenix cuts him off, pulling her red face mask off and throwing it at him. "We're finishing the job. You can be a good little beauty and hold Hace's hand."