Legacies || Hermitcraft

Chapter II - The Mercenary

Timeline: April 2012

Word Count ~ 1.9k

Chapter Warnings: Sexism, attempted assault, blood, minor violence

A lot of emotions could be released through a sword.

Seething anger, harrowing fear and overwhelming sadness could be easily whittled away by the repetitive slashing of the same, worn out training dummy. False wouldn't stop until it was torn to pieces, leaving the ground strewn with hay and scraps of cloth, and only then would she be satisfied enough to go back to the many frustrations that life in Cogsmeade induced.

Today was yet another one of those bad days, and following a rude comment about her reluctance to wear dresses like the 'proper' young ladies her age, False had a feeling that she was going to be on the training grounds for quite a while this time. Or maybe not, judging by the footsteps she could hear behind her.

A rough hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around rather carelessly, considering she was still holding a sword. False dropped the weapon, scowling as she was met with the familiar face of one of the city's bachelors. She'd been shoved in his direction a couple times at parties or social gatherings, but never took much interest in his arrogant and snarky nature.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" He questioned, making absolutely no attempt to hide his creepy smile and with his hand still on her shoulder. He glanced down at her hand, his smirk only growing as he did so. "And with no ring on you yet? Just my luck."

He advanced uncomfortably closer, and False jerked her shoulder out of his grip before pushing him backwards. "Go get a life." She spat bitterly, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure there's plenty of other girls out there who'd be happy to stroke your fat ego."

"You've got nerve, speaking to me like that." The man growled. "You should know your place here. You know what they do with girls like you, you should be thanking me for offering you a ticket out of the miserable life you're dragging yourself into."

"What's miserable is that you think your dick is big enough to compensate for your lack of personality." False replied, holding back a snicker as the man's face twisted into a bizarre expression of shock, rage and pure disgust. She loved it when men made that face.

"What the- You're going to pay for that, you little-" The man snapped, raising his hand high above her head. Almost nonchalantly, False dodged his slap, shoved her knee between his legs and cut him off mid sentence, and then for good measure, she punched him in the nose.

"Yeah, good luck with that." She shrugged, turning around and leaving the training grounds.

"False Symmetry, this is the 4th instance of aggravated assault, the 37th instance of you entering the knights' training grounds unpermitted, and the 62nd instance of you dressing inappropriately in the last 8 weeks alone."

False raised her eyebrows. Of course, the idiot who's nose she'd broken a few hours ago had decided to snitch, landing her in a town meeting regarding her 'pattern of unacceptable behaviour'. "That's highly disputable." She pointed out. "All 4 cases of violence were in self-defense, the training grounds are technically public property, and I don't see anything inappropriate about the way I'm dressed."

The first two could be argued against, but she definitely had a point with the clothes. A button up shirt, brown trousers, suspenders and her safety goggles were hardly 'inappropriate'. In fact, sans the goggles, it was what most men in the town were wearing at that very moment. The mayor sighed, glancing over at the man she'd beaten up earlier, who'd been giving her a filthy glare this entire time.