The Undead Princess

Perhaps we'll meet again?

The man with a nasty scar running across his face has an irritated look in his eye. I would say eyes, but unfortunately for him, his ragged scar also runs across the left eye on his face. Leaving the orb a murky, foggy offset white that slightly contrasts his sclera. There is absolutely no color left to his iris at all and with it no trace of any kind of human emotion beneath that eye as well.

That should have been a tell-telling sign for me.

"I am explaining to ye again, girl. Tis the highest quality of lemongrass tea. Even thee bloody royals of Helstoria would want these tea leaves of mine! I am doing ye a favor by sellin it to youse for ten gold pieces." he grins.

As he is spitting his lies to me, he ensures that his nasty eye is getting into my personal space.... specifically my face. He is so near to me that I can make out every disgusting pore on his skin and see his nostril hairs sticking out of his nose. I try to contain my cold sweat as he reveals a mostly toothless grin that encases his mouth. He licks what appears to be his single front tooth, never letting his single eye stray away.

I do not back down and continue glaring at his confident sneer with a smirk. His intimidation tactic may work on others, but I refuse to show him a single ounce of discomfort. Does this man take me for a fool?

"Sir, I have bought tea from actual stores closer to Helstoria's capital for cheaper. I know when lemongrass leaves are at a reasonable price. Do you take my age as an indicator to overcharge me?"

Immediately his expression morphs from one of irritation to one of anger. I can see the smoke coming out of every orifice on his face as his sunburnt skin becomes a complexion of a tomato. His lips are furled upwards, making his bushy eyebrows connect into one. I mentally prepare myself for the scene of the eon.

"Why youse-" his shrill voice begins as he raises his hand in what I can only assume is with the intention to strike my face.

However, before he can continue his sentence and attack, his yelling gets cut short by a woman's deep voice behind me.

"I would lower that puny fist of yours if I were you."

Her voice sounds cold and authoritative -- yet so rich like dark chocolate. If I were in any situation, I would make this woman with her strangely nice voice read poetry to me all day long. I hear a stifled snicker behind me that brings me out of my daze. Did I say that out loud? My ears are now starting to feel hot.

The man in front of me still wears his face twisted with anger.

"Now, I don't know why ye women keep botherin my business when youse should be in the kitchen pleasin yer husbands -- but strange lady, mind ye business. Under whose authority are youse to make such bold request?"

The woman stays deadly quiet. Her silence gives me the goosebumps. I can feel her energy behind me just radiate power and honestly, I am starting to feel afraid for the foolish man in front of me.

Even he must have noticed this shift in energy by now because his face reflects slight discomfort, perhaps even fear.

The woman takes a couple of steps toward the merchant. Her feet thud loudly against the cobblestone street, as she passes me to get closer to the slightly shaking man. Her scent lingers in the air after she walks past me, reminding me of lavender and citrus details. It is then that I notice just how tall she is. She seems to pass my height by over a foot, and the dark grey cloak she is wearing is covering her hair and clothes. I can only make out her shiny black boots, which do not stop their pace until she is closer to his face — much more closer than what he was to mine. Except she has to bend her knees so she's face to face with him.