The walls were pristine, which had taken nearly three washes, the dust was gone, as was the dirt in the corners, even under the bed and wardrobe, and she’d ensured that the carpet and bedding were perfectly clean. She’d also polished the wardrobe, table, and bedposts until they practically glowed in the light through the window, along with the floor and door itself.
It’d taken hours of exhausting work, but after being cooped up in a cell for days, Kitania had welcomed the work. It was something to concentrate on and do, which had helped exhaust her for the first time since coming to the palace. So she reached out to take the tray, speaking calmly. “Thank you for the meal. I’ll return the tray and dishes shortly.”
“Um, alright…” the maid replied, tearing her gaze from the sparkling glass in the window. “How did you get your room to look like this?”
“It took several hours of work, and a few centuries of practice,” Kitania replied dryly, setting the tray on the table and noting the food it held looked rather good, which caused her stomach to rumble impatiently. “I’m used to keeping my living space quite clean, as I’m a healer. I don’t want someone’s wounds getting infected due to a lack of cleanliness.”
“I… see,” the maid replied, nodding slowly. “Well, I suppose… enjoy your breakfast?”
“I will. Thank you very much,” Kitania said, closing her door once the woman had stepped back, then moved over to the tray and smiled.
Maybe the residents of the mortal world wouldn’t be too impressed with the meal, but she wasn’t them. Blueberries, oatmeal, and a small portion of what looked like cooked ham were all that made up the meal, along with a mug of water, but all of them were rare treats in the hells. Considering that, she quickly began to eat, savoring the blueberries, though she dropped some of them in the oatmeal to add some flavor to it.
The previous night hadn’t been that bad either, aside from all the work. It’d taken Kitania enough time to clean that she’d been given a few more outfits, these ones even in colors that weren’t brown. Green might not be her favorite color, but she could handle it. One of the pairs of trousers had been adjusted so it wouldn’t try to go over her tail, while the skirts would simply have to bump it. Most of the tops were normal tunics, which also pleased her.
Kitania had taken a bath in a small bathing stall with a large basin she barely fit in, but which she could fill from the boiler. It’d been amusing when one of the maids had accidentally drawn aside her curtain, as Kitania was fairly certain that the woman hadn’t turned so red purely from the heat and steam, but otherwise the bath was uneventful. Then she was able to put on clothing that fit reasonably well for the first time in what felt like ages.
Once she finished her meal, Kitania put on a close-fitting shirt and the trousers, then the pair of shoes she’d been given. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than the clothing she’d had in the cell, and it would be far more pleasant to exercise in.
Gathering the dishes, Kitania opened the door and glanced over at the two guards, tilting her head as she spoke. “I’m going to deliver this back to the kitchen, then I wanted to exercise. Is there an exercise yard or something that I can access? I was told that the collar grants me access to most of the areas of the palace that aren’t exclusive to the royal family.”
It was a different pair of guards today, but they were still female. That puzzled Kitania a little, since the guard obviously had male guards, and she’d seen a fair number on her way here. It was possible that they thought female guards might be more resistant to any persuasion, though, which felt like a reasonable explanation to Kitania. Regardless, she waited patiently as they looked at each other for a moment, a little amused at the thought. She preferred women, after all
“What sort of exercise are you meaning?” one of the women asked, sounding a little dubious.
“Primarily jogging and running, but I’m also likely to do some acrobatics. I haven’t been in this particular shape in a long, long time, almost a millennium, and I’d like to get used to my body again,” Kitania replied, bouncing up on her toes as she stretched, ignoring how a servant down the hall stumbled at the sight. “I did what I could in the cell, but it was rather limited. I wouldn’t mind sparring, either, but I’m not sure the collar would even allow that.”
“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be out of the question to take you down to the exercise yard,” the other guard said, a slight smile of amusement playing across her lips. “I’m not sure if the sergeant would be willing to let you onto the sparring ground, but watching someone else work up a sweat wouldn’t bother me. It’s better than being indoors.”
“Plus, it gives you a better idea of what I’m capable of. I’m sure that your commander would be far happier knowing that,” Kitania said, smiling and starting down the hall, then pausing at their blank expressions, blinking as she asked, slightly incredulously, “What, was I not supposed to realize that?”
“Uh…” the first woman began, looking hesitant, and a bit chagrined.
“Look, I’m older than either of you, I know that much. Unless anyone in the palace is the recipient of life extension, I’m likely older than anyone short of your goddess herself, and I’m not sure how old she is. I’m not asking, either,” Kitania said, and she saw a couple of servants a short distance down the hall slow, looking like they were listening. She kept her tone as patient as possible as she continued, fighting down her frustration. “I fought in the War of Decimation, and I didn’t start as a common soldier. I know how suspicious people will be of me. I’m expecting you to report on everything I do since I’m a prisoner in the palace. I just don’t really care about it. I want to get back in shape, figure out how to use my body properly, and hopefully get released in the future. That’s it.”
“You were in the War of Decimation?” the first woman asked, sounding shocked. “What was it like?”
“Bloody, brutal, and it led to the deaths of all but two people who’d been in my unit,” Kitania said flatly. “Those two weren’t present at Rosken when the final battle commenced. I remember seeing Alserah kill one of the demon lords, and then, just as a god was about to die, he used all his power to compete with an archangel… and everything went black. Everyone in the fortress died except me, and it took me weeks to regenerate. I suspect it just took what was left of me that long to make its way to the edge of the pit. I’ve pretty much lost my taste for war.”
Neither replied, and Kitania started down the hallway toward the kitchen again. She figured her story would spread through the palace quickly, but she didn’t much care. She wanted to deliver her tray and get outside.
“If you’ve lost your taste for war, why do you want to spar?” the second guard asked at last, sounding honestly curious.
“Just because I don’t want to fight doesn’t mean that other people will leave me alone. There’s also the likelihood of something deciding it wants to eat me or a friend… the hells are a dangerous place,” Kitania told her, stepping around a manservant with a basket of laundry. It was so strange being in a place where all the people looked similar to one another. She was used to the incredible variety of the hells. “If things haven’t changed here, I suspect that in most kingdoms of the mortal world, you can go days without being attacked when traveling.”
“Well… yes? You’re saying you can’t in the hells?” the same guard asked, sounding even more puzzled.
“Let’s see… on my last trip, I think we averaged being attacked by wildlife about twice a day, and ran into bandits three times during the three-week trip,” Kitania replied, a little amused by the choking sound the guard made. “Some of them were really desperate, since I was in full armor at the time, and wasn’t quite as short or delicate-looking.”
“That’s insane!” the first guard exclaimed, and Kitania just laughed softly.
“Another day in the hells. You defend yourself or you die. Mind you, settling down in one place is usually safer, as is traveling in a larger group. It was just me and Isalla at the
time,” Kitania said, then her smile faded as her worry spiked again, along with a little depression. “I really hope she’s alright. She should be… Mother left guards nearby, so they should’ve arrived in time to help. Her and Rose both.”
That didn’t get a response, and Kitania shrugged internally as she spotted the door to the kitchens. She’d found out where dishes went the previous night, so at least she wasn’t floundering around this time. Soon she’d be able to go to the training yard, and that would be better. She wouldn’t have time to answer questions. She didn’t want to answer questions, either, especially not about Isalla and Rose.
“Is that the demon you were guarding?” Amden asked, and Maura rolled her eyes, sighing at his question.
“Is there another demon in the palace?” she asked, glancing over at the taller man in annoyance.
Maura grew even more annoyed as she saw his expression. Demons were reviled for the most part throughout the kingdom, but some people still found them interesting, especially succubi. While Kitania might not be a succubus, she was close enough for most people, and the demoness stood out.
Kitania was near the edge of the training ground, her purple hair tied back as she did multiple handsprings in a row, revealing a sense of balance and flexibility that Maura could only envy. The demoness had messed up several times earlier, prompting some laughter from the others around the training yard, but instead of getting disgusted, the demoness had calmly brushed herself off, reset the dislocated shoulder in one case, and tried again. That had silenced most of the laughter, since most of the other soldiers would have been visiting a healer instead of continuing. Her pink skin was almost like that of a pale rose or other flower, which made the demon stand out even more than her activities or tail would have to begin with.
“Of course not, but… I had to ask,” Amden replied, giving Maura an annoyed look himself. “Do you know anyone else who can do flips like that? In the guard, I mean.”
“Nope. Performing troupes might be able to, or maybe some members of the infiltration squads, but I haven’t seen anyone that flexible before. Or strong,” Maura added, watching in disbelief as Kitania paused in a handstand, then did a one-handed push-up before springing to her feet.
“There we go… I think I’m back to old form. Finally. It only took, what… two hours of tripping over myself?” the demoness said, glancing at the sun and wiping her forehead. Her voice was barely audible due to distance, and Maura shook her head again.
The demon’s guards looked even more perplexed, which amused Maura for some reason. She wasn’t sure when she’d be on guard duty for Kitania again, but it made sense to rotate through the guard. Kitania was rather good at putting others at ease, Maura had noticed, and that meant giving her less time to work on any one person was probably wise.
Sergeant Marigold was also near Kitania, and had been watching her for some time, Maura noticed. The man almost looked impressed, though at the moment he was scowling. A moment later, he started approaching Kitania, and Maura’s smile faded.
“Uh, oh… that look doesn’t bode well,” Maura murmured, and she saw Amden looking more apprehensive as well.
“Yeah… that’s the look he has when he’s about to put someone through training hell, isn’t it?” Amden asked hesitantly, dread in his voice. When Maura nodded, he continued. “The sergeant isn’t going to put a demon through his training… is he?”
“I have no idea,” Maura said, but she continued to watch from what she thought was a safe distance. She hoped it was, at least.
“Pardon my intrusion, Your Grace,” Hanrith said, stepping into her office and bowing.
“Captain,” Alserah murmured, looking up from the book that discussed Estalia. It was out of date by nearly four centuries, but fortunately the demon queen hadn’t changed significantly in that time, based on what she’d heard lately. That made it a more reliable source than it might have been otherwise. On the other hand, it also concerned her, since none of the information mentioned that Estalia had a daughter. After a moment, she asked, “What is it this time?”
“Ah, one of the sergeants in the guard sent a request to me. It appears that the demon is exercising in the training yard, and as he’s aware she fought in the War of Decimation, he wishes to use her to train his soldiers,” Hanrith explained, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’m told she discussed sparring with them, but I believe the restraint collar will prevent her from doing so. What would you have me do?”
“Is that so?” Alserah asked, her eyebrows arching in curiosity. She suppressed the emotion as much as she could, but smiled despite the slight pain that rippled through her mind. She had a decent line of sight to the training yard from the balcony, and her sight was better than that of any normal elf. Considering that, she pulled out an orb and laid a hand on it, channeling mana into the control sphere carefully. She adjusted the restrictions on Kitania’s restraint collar with a mere thought, then put the orb away again.
“There. I’ve adjusted the restrictions, and Kitania is now able to wield weapons in the training yard without difficulty,” Alserah said, her chair scraping across the floor as she stood. “Understanding her capabilities will be good for all of us. The sergeant’s request is to be granted, so long as he does not force her into participating.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Hanrith replied, a faint look of surprise on his face. He bowed, then quickly left the room.
Once he was gone, Alserah opened the door to the balcony. She wanted to watch the display. It might even be amusing.
“You want me to spar with a couple of the guards?” Kitania asked, her eyebrows rising a little. The sergeant looked entirely serious, so she shrugged and replied. “I was rather hoping to be able to spar, but… I don’t know if I can. It’s entirely possible that this collar will keep me from so much as picking up a practice blade.”
“I asked my superiors, and they’ve informed me that your restrictions will only keep you from using a weapon outside of the training grounds,” the sergeant said, and glanced over at the numerous soldiers who were watching them. “I believe it would be good to give my soldiers some practical experience of what it’s like to face demons.”
“I see. Well, I do need to get back into shape, so I can’t say that the offer is unwelcome,” Kitania replied, glancing over at the few people who she could see sparring. There were less outside than she’d seen before, but almost all of them were using a sword of some kind, and about half were using shields. That was normal for elves, from what she knew, so she looked at the sergeant and asked curiously, just a hint of anticipation building inside her, “Using a sword, I assume? It’s what I’ve used most recently.”
“That depends. Is that what you want to use?” the man asked, glancing at her guards as what almost passed for a smile crossed his face. “I want to give them experience, not coddle them.”
“In that case… do you have a long-bladed glaive? A practice one, I mean?” Kitania asked, slightly smiling at the response. She hadn’t been expecting to have a choice of weapons. “I used to use one, and it’d need to be balanced so it can be used like a staff as well.”
“A glaive? Well, that’s a touch more unusual, but we have a few practice glaives around,” the sergeant said, and glanced over at one of the nearby soldiers before barking, “Private! Go get three practice glaives and bring them out here. Good ones.”
“Right away, Sarge!” the woman replied, and quickly trotted off toward one of the buildings.
The sergeant grunted, then looked back at Kitania, sizing her up before asking, “You want padding? I wouldn’t want you to end up with something broken. I’d be a bit more concerned if I hadn’t seen them scrape you off the courtyard, but that tells me you can heal well enough.”
“Thank you, but no. If I had my old armor, maybe, but anything else is liable to slow me down,” Kitania replied, shaking her head gently. “Besides, my bones are tougher than normal to begin with. If something does break, unless it’s pulve
rized entirely, I’ll be fine in a half hour or so.”
“Hm. Being able to recover like that seems awfully convenient,” the man replied, his smile fading slightly. For her part, Kitania laughed softly.
“Convenient? If you don’t mind the pain, I suppose,” Kitania replied quietly, folding her arms and looking away, thinking back on some of her injuries. “I feel pain as much as anyone else. The only difference is that it doesn’t tend to last, and I can’t die. That isn’t always a gift.”
“Perhaps so,” he replied, not looking terribly impressed by her claim. Kitania didn’t bother replying, since she knew he’d made up his mind. It simply wasn’t worth arguing with him about it.
The soldier returned, and Kitania blinked as she saw the three practice glaives. All were made of wood, which didn’t surprise her, but their design wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting. The type of glaive she knew had a longer blade, almost like a sword, and the cloudpiercers she was more skilled with had even longer blades than most of those. These glaives were a little more like an axe blade on the end, though they were reasonably long. Even so, it should suffice for practicing with.
“Here they are, Sarge,” the woman said, panting.
“Good work. Now, see if any of them suffice. If they don’t, we’ll have to go with a quarterstaff or some such,” the sergeant said, looking at Kitania again, his arms crossed. She could almost see him biting back orders. That was fortunate, since she wasn’t willing to let him order her around. She was cooperating, not obeying her captors utterly.
“Indeed. Definitely not the style I used when learning, but I didn’t expect that,” Kitania replied, taking one of the glaives and testing its balance. The first one was… poor, to put it mildly.
Mortal Gods (Mantles of Power Book 2) Page 7