by Dane Bagley
Mirinda brushed her luscious, long, gently-curled, black hair as she sat at her vanity and stared contemplatively into her mirror. Mirinda was beautiful—unlike any other; perfect skin—olive and blemish free, clear black eyes with naturally long dark lashes, dark ruby lips—colored and full on their own, but always adorned with gloss or lipstick, somewhat high cheek bones, and an extraordinary figure that balanced poetically both athleticism and charm. Her three friends, finishing touches already completed, patiently looked on with some jealousy and a high dose of admiration. Mirinda was good for each of them; she was, however, too perfect for her own good, so they thought. She was incomparable with no obvious flaw—keenly intelligent, eloquent social grace, more than comfortable in her financial security, confident without undue arrogance, and certainly not lazy; but, never frantic, always in control, always the center of attention, always pleasantly intimidating. When she was ready she’d be ready, in the meantime observing such beauty was impossible to tire of. With her short-sleeved top the tone of the muscles in her arms gently rippled from triceps to shoulder with each brush stroke.
Tira did not have the gift of a strong first impression. She was beautiful—quite beautiful, but with the kind of beauty that grows on the observer slowly. There was depth and mystery to her appearance. For those who knew her well, and for a long time, she was considered a top-class beauty—but she hardly garnered a gaze from strangers. Portraits were always mortifying for her. The artist could not capture on canvas the beauty that she possessed. Any portrait of her always looked like a first impression even to those who knew her well. Even when the artist showed their skill in other people’s portraits they were considered a failure when attempting Tira. Tira had no intention of sitting for another session. It would be an artist indeed that could capture her beauty on canvas. With medium length brown hair, pale blue eyes, and average height, Tira sat poised and patiently. Her personality, like her looks did not attract at first but over time the attraction grew—such was the depth of her thoughts and psychology.
Myrtle could not be a greater opposite than she was to Tira. With glorious blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a face so pretty that it at times approached, but never eclipsed, Mirinda’s, her beauty provided a pleasing contrast to the dark featured Mirinda. When observed as a group, Mirinda and Myrtle provided a one-two punch that left scores in their wake. A portrait of Myrtle, without exception, portrayed every ounce of her beauty. It was too easy for the artist. Everything she had was apparent upon first glance. There was, however, no depth nor mystery to uncover. She was how she was seen. Once the stunning effects of her first impression wore off there was nothing further to attract and engage the gazer. She had the rare beauty that grew tiresome. Those who hungered for something more starved and their interest withered. Those who were most acquainted with this flock of girls found Myrtle to be tiresome both in look and in personality. She, however, was too simple to ever notice, or so it seemed. The looks she garnered from her first impression left her without doubt of her own beauty. The waning interest of the guys she met never clued her further. Her initially adorable laugh always became an annoyance over time. It was so predictable and superfluous that it became background noise once the annoyance wore off. Still, Myrtle was always fun. She was impossible to dislike at first, but easy to disengage from later.
Finally, there was Myrtle’s best friend, Tasha. Tasha was rich, even compared to these other girls who were all very well off. Her cloths were impeccable. Her handbag, short stylish hair, footwear, etc., were the cutting edge and the best that money could buy. What she lacked in natural beauty was made up for with attention. She left no stone unturned and everything surrounding her showed her taste and wealth. She was impressive, but would have been much less so had she been less rich. She spoiled her friends and never left anything to chance. Myrtle was her perfect companion, for Myrtle had always brought them as much attention as could be had; Tasha was always near at hand when the attention for Myrtle faded. Tasha was wise, cunning, cleaver, and witty. She may not have carried with her the unfathomable depth that Tira possessed, but she had enough to gleam the left-over attention from Myrtle. Tasha was good to Myrtle and the value that each brought made the relationship symbiotic.
The degrees of perfection for which Mirinda was elevating through were not necessarily observable to anyone else, as she completed her hair and make-up. But Mirinda knew when she had achieved her desired objective. She stopped, smiled, turned gently ensuring perfection from every angle and then stood and faced her friends. They fawned appropriately and then the girls were off.
Gorgeously blossomed trees lined the streets of Cardsten. Everywhere it was clean and manicured. The warming weather brought out the young people on that beautiful late afternoon. The streets were packed and these girl’s arrival on the scene brought no less of the desired attention than expected. Besides their exquisite beauty, these girls came equipped with an additional attention grabber. They each wore shorter dresses than any of the other girls around, and with their tanned and shapely legs they were sure to be seen by all. It was only just warm enough to get away with dresses like those. For most of the others their legs had not seen the sun for the entirety of the winter and they would surely have not wanted to be seen with sickly pale skin. Tasha, as always, had the solution. A greenhouse type of sunroom, warmed as needed that allowed for winter sunbathing. Even the pool was warmed constantly by servants, allowing for winter swims. They exercised, swam, and sunbathed the winter away such that when spring had sprung, their external preparations were already piqued. Even Tira and Tasha were relative knock-outs, Tira in a white and Tasha in a black dress.
The only problem was the ever-present problem of finding those worthy of their attraction. Quantity was never a problem, quality always evaded them. Pretty boys were the worst—except to Myrtle. She liked the pretty boys. They were so simple, but Myrtle never noticed anything lacking. However, the pretty boys, who spent all of their time on their own looks, found Myrtle to be too much competition. Everyone, even the girls, would look first at Myrtle before noticing the pretty boy beside her. This got old fast, as did Myrtle.
The rich boys brought some class and could be mildly entertaining for a time. But they brought nothing substantive to offer. Money, and all that it would bring, was prepossessed by each of the girls. Once the initial charm wore off there never seemed to be anything else to offer.
The athletes brought with them some appeal—especially to Mirinda. She appreciated a tall, strong young man with great capability. Still, even these relationships left her wanting. Like the pretty boys, they were always stuck on themselves. Often, their intellectual acumen was deficient and they didn’t seem to enjoy their girls giving them a run for their money in sports and games. They liked being king of their own hill which didn’t have room for a queen.
Then there were the smart boys. Tira liked them, at least some of them. They were not so beautiful, rich, or athletic as the others but they were also not such easy prey. They were smart enough to know that they stood no chance with such exquisite beauties. They admired the girls distantly and did not let on to their attraction so readily. Of course, the girls were not desperate, so there was no need to throw themselves at the smart boys. They, however, were smart too. They knew how to put themselves in position such that the smart boys were smart enough to know that they shouldn’t let a chance like that pass them by. These relationships could have lasted a little longer, but these guys really weren’t very handsome, particularly rich, athletic at all, or even really as smart as they needed to be to make up for all of their deficiencies. In short time, it was time to move on.
All that was left were the artists and the laborers. Laborers were sometimes worth a short flirt. They weren’t pretty, but occasionally they were ruggedly handsome. They were never rich but some of them were good with what money they had. They often had athletic builds, but they were more often brutes than athletes. They were certainly not educated, but some of them carried a go
od deal of common sense. Occasionally, flirtatious fun was had with the laborers, but Tasha was always aghast and so she ensured that additional time with the girls would be more expensive than the laborers could afford.
“Let’s go eat at, ‘Sydney’s.’”
The Laborers would disappear and Myrtle would giggle. She enjoyed turning around while still giggling and catching them look with longing gazes at the perfect girls that they would never talk to again.
The artists did appeal to Tasha, but were dreaded by Tira. Tira would just leave and the artists weren’t worth breaking up the group. Still, Tasha would commission them for a painting or poetry at some other time. Even this got old after a while.
With all the trouble that they’d had in finding suitable companionship, the girls were undaunted. There were many fish in the sea and that night they might meet someone better. It couldn’t be much worse. There was an emerging new class of young men that they wanted to test out. These were the military guys. Those fools from Agedon were going to be taught a lesson soon, so the military was being ramped up. They looked good in their fancy uniforms. They were fit, with crisp short hair, and dressed in red or black from head to foot. Training took place out of the city wall near the main gate. It was as much for show as for anything else. Agedon had their spies and they would see that Cardsten was serious. About this time the exercises would end and the military boys would come in proudly donning their uniforms.
Mirinda, as always, was in the lead and made a beeline for the gate. None of the girls objected. Mirinda liked seeing the boys with some sweat beaded on their foreheads and with flush cheeks. She liked that the military guys tended to be taller and more muscular, like some athletes, yet not so stupid. There was some hope, she thought, as they circled around eventually garnering all of their attentions.
Myrtle struck first. One guy, more handsome than most, was caught gawking at her. She timed her twist perfectly with the drop of his gaze allowing the skirt of her blue dress to float up several inches and ensuring an unforgettable view of her legs. He was mesmerized and at her side momentarily. Myrtle could flirt and she saw no need to hold back. James, as he was called, had not had the chance to even notice Mirinda, so caught up was he with Myrtle. Mirinda smiled. He was cuter than most and perhaps the best catch of all among the military boys, at least from what she’d seen. It was never a problem to wean a guy off Myrtle and onto her if she so desired. Let her have her fun. If he’s worth anything, he’ll be mine in no time. Mirinda liked Myrtle and certainly didn’t covet her beauty. She just knew that it was only a matter of time. James would notice her and she could decide if it was time for her to move on, or her turn with James.
James’ buddies were not on par with him and there were only two of them, both short, pudgy, not cute, and rather obnoxious. James clearly didn’t like competition. At this point, James’ friends had both noticed Mirinda—and couldn’t keep their eyes off of her from the time they’d seen her. But they didn’t have the courage—nor would it have done them any good if they did. Tasha and Tira were less picky, or perhaps they thought it was worth it having James around. Tasha figured if Mirinda wasn’t interested she may have a shot. They struck up conversation with Tad and Blake.
“We’ll teach them a lesson—they’re fools; you know they are. They can hardly afford the weaponry, and we’re fully equipped. I’ve seen how they dress up, but they aren’t even real uniforms. We’ll beat ‘em down hard and quick. We’ll whip the foolishness out of ‘em before they really get into trouble—just stupid, they are.” Tad was enjoying Tasha’s company, but kept glancing over at Mirinda and talked tough to see if he could get her attention.
“Can’t we reason with them?” Tasha asked. By reason, she meant using Cardsten’s superior financial means to get them to back down. In her mind money was the most powerful force on earth.
Blake jumped in, “tried, but they…I don’t know. They’re different. They’ve got weird ideas. Think they can march into the dark forest and climb up the mountain and kill Dromreign. I don’t think they could even make it through the dark forest alive to the mountain. But the worst they could do is get the dragon all riled up and angry. He’s getting bigger and more powerful; bolder too. I don’t think he could take down Agedon in a night, but maybe in two or three he could. They’re fools; stupid, stupid fools.”
“It does sound foolish,” began Tira, “but they are not simply fools. Agedon is no Cardsten, but they have their own wisdom. Have we tried listening to them?”
Myrtle laughed in perfect timing to the end of Tira’s question. Tira couldn’t tell is she was being mocked or if Myrtle was giggling at something that James said.
“I’m sure we have,” James cut in. “Our leaders are no fools. They are doing what they can. I don’t think this will come to blows. I’m sure they’ll back down once they get wind of our operations. They can’t beat the dragon, that’s for sure. They won’t get past us, either. They’ll back down.”
Mirinda was bored. Such serious conversation for a flirtatious spring afternoon. She was feeling disgusted with being looked up and down by Tad and Blake. Women hate being objectified. She turned a little and began looking around.
Another cute one, she thought. She waited until he looked over. Oh, yes, he noticed. She smiled and shifted a little, providing an enhanced view of her figure for the onlooker. No question, but that he was drinking in the view. It felt so nice for her to be appreciated and noticed. He started to make his way over but was accosted by a group of buddies. His momentary protest went unheeded and he soon was off and out of sight. Men; how could he be so blind? Lost his chance.
Reluctantly she turned her attention back to her friends and their admirers. James was staring straight at her. That didn’t take long. You can’t be bored with Myrtle already; it’s only been ten minutes. She looked him in the eyes. Not as handsome as the other guy. I think I’ll pass. But he kept looking at Mirinda and Myrtle noticed. What a jerk, Mirinda thought. A fisherman may cast a wide net, but anything caught that was not intended is but a menace and a nuisance. Such is how Mirinda felt about James and his friends.
At this point, all three guys were checking out Mirinda without being coy at all. This was an utter and total turnoff to Mirinda as well as to every other girl. Mirinda was turning to leave knowing that the others would be behind her shortly, when something caught her eye. A young man wearing some sort of animal skin shorts and no shirt walked through the gate. He was the most gorgeous thing she had ever laid eyes upon. His chest was muscular and perfectly proportioned. He had long dark, beautifully unkempt hair. His skin was dark and glistened with a gentle perspiration. There was a scar on his left shoulder but in every other way he was flawless. She had never viewed beauty such as this except when looking into the mirror at herself. Her eyes could not drop from the scene. He was followed by three companions that she hardly noticed. The young men, getting through the gate, looked around. They were not from Cardsten, that was clear. They did not appear to be from Agedon either. If they had been, they would not have appeared as such. Anyone coming from Agedon these days were spies and tried to look as though they were of Cardsten.
Mirinda moved slowly so as to be in full view. It wasn’t long and the stranger’s eyes met her own. She had captured his view entirely. He looked at her without blinking or turning his attention. They both appeared to drink in a beauty they had never before seen in another human being. Neither could, nor would, turn away. Never before had a man dared to hold her stare as he did. The other young men had found the object of their friend’s attention and were turned her way. Never had Mirinda felt so beautiful or angelic as she did in this man’s gaze. Never before had she gazed upon beauty that rivaled her own.
Chapter 11