Arcanum [WATTYS 2016]

PART TWO; 2

Miriabella had spent two nights in a holding cell in the Nyremian village's prison, fed once a day and given hay to sleep on. It was an upgrade from Oceakaria, but as she was forced to her feet and dragged to the king's palace, she realized that there was still more to come. She learned the name of one guard, a sarcastic and arrogant one, who was constantly making digs at her and her position. His name was Deghusk, and he was awfully rough when pulling her along. She was weak, and slow, but he was practically dragging her along the path. The other guard would constantly tell him to stop and slow down, but to no avail.

Past the doors of the palace, everything was beautiful, and especially shiny. The lights gleamed off of everything. She wondered how much money had gone into affording the king's pleasures as such.

Inside the throne room, the king was preparing everyone else for what they had to do. "Lady Carlita, I have a job for you!" The king's voice was booming in his own throne room, radiating back and forth across the walls.

A woman stepped forward, one with curly, ginger hair that was pulled back into such a tight bun that it pulled the skin of her face back. Her bright red dress was so small on her large body that she threatened to spill out of it like water. She walked from the corner of the throne room to stand in front of the king, awaiting whatever orders might seek her out.

"We're welcoming the assassin from Oceakaria tonight, and I need you to bring them to their room to clean up before the return banquet. Ayridge's troops retreated just last night and our men are already almost home. Valerie, Ludwig, and Vance went out with them for observation so they need a nice feast for their return," the king said, lolling his head back slightly into the cushion of the oversized chair.

"You want me to handle the Ocearcic Assassin? Forgive me, sir, but I am in no shape to be handling him," Carlita answered quickly, clearly worried as she fidgeted in front of him.

"Not a he. It's a woman. A very young woman. Bring her it!" He bellowed loudly, leading the soldiers to throw the huge doors open. They dragged Miriabella in by chains shackled to her wrists, connected to poles for "security measures". The two soldiers bowed to their king but she refused to move until the one to her right, who she remembered as Lord Deghusk, swung his sheathed sword into the back of her legs, bringing her down to her knees with a yelp. She stayed there, not getting up, chewing the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth shut. Her knees were pained against the cold, hard floor, bruises aching all over her body.

"Miss Miriabella," the king spoke, his voice infuriating her with every word, "I am aware of your... abilities. The traits which you have received from almost all races across the Ingulian Empire. I could list them-"

"I don't think you could," Miriabella retorted, sarcastically. She could see the surprise on the king's face at the strength of her voice.

"Perhaps you do not know what my kingdom has done for you. We paid your million-gold bounty, earlier this morning. You were headed for the block!" King Harold answered, eyes blazing with anger. "Don't you dare disrespect me."

"I didn't ask for your help. If I wanted out, I could have escaped a long while ago. You think I'm scared of you or your guards? I've got power in me that you've never even heard of." She snapped, rising to her feet. Everyone prepared themselves to attack, but that was the farthest she moved before adding, "If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it by now, and I'm a trained assassin, so clearly there's something extreme that you need from me. So please, your highness, why don't you tell me what you think I can do."

"You have the fangs of the Vampiric, but not the bloodlust, the feline reflexes and eyesight of the Chatic, the physical endurance, but not pain tolerance, of the Braught, the magical understanding and alchemy work similar to that of the Elven, the general abilities of the Elder Assassins, and finally, a Draconian tongue," King Harold spoke in an even tone, rising from his seat at his throne. He stepped toward her, down the steps, until he stood just barely out of her reach.

"And now, you work for me." He had a smirk that Miriabella wanted nothing more than to slice off with a knife. It'd been a long time since she'd felt the adrenaline that she got before a kill, and at the moment, that was all that she wanted, especially when he added, "two years in Oceakaria, and you still don't know how to respect those above you?"

"I speak for every race when I tell you that you will never be above any of us. How could they look at someone so weak for guidance?"

King Harold slapped her across her face, making certain to hit her head wound. "I am your king, and you will not speak to me in that manner, do you understand?"

Miriabella flinched backwards, as far back as she possibly could while being restrained.

"Kylo," the king said to the other guard, "I'm instructing you to help Lady Carlita escort Miss Miriabella to her room to get cleaned up for tonight. You may leave when everything is secured." The guard, Kylo, nodded to the king and bowed his head once more, unhooking the poles from the chains and allowing Miriabella a little more freedom to move her hands as he motioned for her to follow him and the woman in the red, assumed by Miriabella to be named Carlita at that point.

She was brought to a fancy room, more like a small apartment than a guest bedroom, complete with a kitchen and bathroom, as well as a piano in the corner of the room and a balcony that overlooked the castle's gardens from the second floor.

Kylo took out a set of keys and unlocked her shackles, watching for a moment as the small girl rubbed at her raw wrists. He hadn't known how tight they were. For a few seconds, it was amazing to him that someone like her could have killed people for as long as the Ocearcic Assassin was believed to be. She was famous for her skill, and he remembered the day that it was reported she had finally been caught. They never disclosed any details, but everyone assumed that the she had always been a much older, much taller "he". Miriabella couldn't be taller than 5'3".

"Go ahead and shower up. The wardrobe is filled with clothes of different kinds, and there's an innumerable amount of various soaps in the shower. Guards will be outside the room door and down by the gardens to watch the balcony, no funny business. Make this easier on everyone, please," he said, stepping away from her. She couldn't see his face through his helmet, but Miriabella knew that she was making eye contact with him. She blinked, twice, before simply looking away and walking into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She wouldn't try to escape. They'd throw her back in Oceakaria, and despite her harsh words towards the king, she could never go back there. Death would be much better than those consequences.

Miriabella decided on a cold shower, stripping the muddy rags and bloody bandages off of her body. At that point, it was all just promoting infection.

She stepped into the bath, sitting down on the slick floor as she let the cold water run over her. Miriabella grabbed the nearest bottle of soap and began scrubbing the pale blue liquid into her skin, relishing in the scent of eucalyptus. It had been so long since she had more of a bath than rain, and it cooled the burning of some of her scrapes. Caked blood and dirt ran off her body, mixing in the water before flowing down the drain.

She understood what the king wanted her for. She would be used as a war tactic against all different races. If she could train the Nyremian troops with what she knew about each race, defending kingdoms wouldn't stand a chance. But, there was no way she could train an entire mass of people the things she was born with. Given the fact that the king had mentioned it, she realized that they'd probably find some way to incorporate her assassination skills with it. She had morals, though. She only ever killed someone who truly deserved it, or was in a threatening and higher position than she was.

Miriabella sat silently in the shower, rubbing shampoo and conditioner into her short hair, watching as the dirty color slowly turned into its natural, platinum blonde color. She let out a sigh. It was either Oceakaria, or throwing her morals away.