by Ervin Agayan
She tried to set herself free in every possible way, kicking back at Zens with her legs and head, while the latter held her with great effort.
“Arsy, you’d better get away from here while I’m holding her,” screamed Zens. “Hurry up, I won’t be able to hold this savage for long.”
“Where would I go? This problem should be settled peacefully,” said Arsy. He then addressed the girl. “We are not your enemies. Do you understand?”
But Nihena wasn’t listening to him. She was busy trying to hit Zens with her head. She even succeeded once, but his death grip didn’t loosen.
“There’s no point talking to her, Arsy,” Zens cried out. “She’s absolutely frantic!”
“That’s it, Zens; I’ll get you for the word frantic!” Nihena retorted through her teeth, and her ice-cold intonation made Zens swallow nervously.
“You know what, Nihena, or whatever the hell your name is, behave yourself, or I’ll forget you’re a girl and will give you a good beating!” threatened Zens.
“You know what, Zens, or whatever the hell your name is,” she answered caustically, “you can forget I’m a girl and fight me like you’d fight a man, until I’ve taken vengeance for my brother’s death.”
“For all saints, Arsy, let’s leave here,” snapped Zens, feeling his arms weaken by the second. He would never think there was so much power in that elegant and fragile female body.
“We won’t leave! You can go if you are scared of her threats, but I’ve come here with a mission, and I won’t leave until I complete it.”
“Then you should explain to her that you had nothing to do with her brother’s murder. And you’d better do it quickly!” Zens knew he wouldn’t be able to hold her for much longer.
“Listen, keep holding her. I’ll go see if there’s anyone saner than her in the house,” said Arsy.
“What’s going on here?” someone shouted unexpectedly. It was Lord Mesdrin, who came because of his daughter’s screaming. Mesdrin was infuriated and held a sword in his hands. His menacing look usually instilled fear in everyone and now even more so.
“Oh, Lord Mesdrin, it’s so good you came out!” exclaimed Arsy with relief.
“I’m asking you again; what’s going on here and why has this guy, who is obviously bored with his life, seized my daughter?” The lord was furious.
“Let her go, Zens!” ordered Arsy. “Lord Mesdrin, there’s been a misunderstanding. We are not your enemies, and we’ve come here with a lucrative offer, but your daughter attacked me for no reason.”
Zens listened to Arsy and let go of Nihena. The guys hoped she’d be calmer in her father’s presence, but they were way off the mark! Nihena sprang at Arsy again and started pounding him. Arsy managed to evade the few first blows but was unable to repel the subsequent quick and dexterous strikes.
Zens was watching dazedly as the savage girl set about crippling his friend again. After a few powerful blows, Arsy fell to the ground, knocked out.
Arsy, who refused to live in poverty since childhood, was paving his way upward with every tool he knew, be it robbery, intrigues, lies, deceit, quick wit, and even betrayal. He was ready to do anything only to get what he wanted. Arsy could be anyone; he played masterfully in any kind of role, so well that pretense had become his second skin.
Nevertheless, most of the time, he preferred to be himself—a crafty thief, who was used to living in a great way. Therefore, even in his own style, Arsy opted for the golden mean between pomposity and practicality. His suits were always of the best quality; the best silk for shirts, the most expensive leather for tunics and boots, exquisite fabrics for trousers, eye-catching elements like golden buttons and zippers. At that, there was always some space for secrets in his image. Secret pockets, extra compartments in the sleeves, many-pocketed belts, unnoticeable bags for picklocks.
However, from the moment the feeling called love inhabited his heart, he slowly started changing and committing acts that the old Arsy was simply incapable of. We’ll have to find out who he is now—the love-stricken Arsy.
Meanwhile, he lay on the ground like some sort of beggar, in dusty clothes, with jumbled hair and a bloody face.
After a few deep breaths, Nihena turned back and looked at Zens with sparkling eyes. “So, you said frantic, didn’t you?” A spiteful smile touched her face, and she stalked toward her new prey slowly.
Hardships
Lord Mesdrin was held in awe by the fighters and by the common population, and the reason was not only his status, but also his impressive appearance. Although forty-five years old, he was still a handsome and stately man, with long hair and a neatly groomed beard and moustache that gave a special kind of attractiveness to his face. However, his eyes were his most distinctive feature. They almost always had a forbidding expression, which struck one to the core, as though scanning one for weaknesses and possible cowardice. Lord Mesdrin seemed to have the soothsaying ability to pinpoint the human inclination to betrayal and had no mercy for traitors.
A life of constant tension and various problems didn’t pass by unheeded by the lord, but they left their trace in the form of wrinkles on his manly face. It should be said that he was one of the few people whose appearance didn’t suffer from wrinkles, but quite the contrary; they gave him a formidable and wise look.
Even though Lord Mesdrin was a military man to the marrow of his bones, he always dressed impeccably; judging by his attire, even a stranger would understand he occupied a much higher social position than his subjects. Nevertheless, comfort was his main priority when it came to his choice of clothing. His quilted field jacket was sewn of the most expensive leather and in the latest fashion. Lord Mesdrin preferred wearing metallic wrist-to-elbow armlets for extra protection, while comfortable leather boots with metallic grips were his favorite footwear.
The blue satin cloak hanging from his shoulders to the floor was perhaps the most uncomfortable element of his attire, but couldn’t be eliminated due to his status; the cloak was an indispensable “attribute” of a lord in service. The same could be said about the round velvet collar with white lace, which Lord Mesdrin was obliged to wear as a symbol of affiliation with the supreme authorities of Mozakon. Nevertheless, neither the cloak nor the collar was the main symbol of the mercenaries’ commander-in-chief. That function was performed by the ample golden chain with the family crest, which adorned his leather bib.
In this very attire, Lord Mesdrin appeared before Arsy and Zens when he went out to meet the uninvited guests.
“Tell me what happened, Nihena!” Lord Mesdrin looked as menacing as ever, with a sword aimed at Zens. “What have they done? I’ll personally send them to the kingdom come!”
Nihena kept watching Zens as a ravenous wolf would look at his prey. Arsy was still lying between them, unconscious, while his friend was torn between the desire to get close and bring him to his senses and the fear of approaching the unpredictable girl who could knock him down in a single movement.
“Arsy has allegedly argued with Erathos, and now they are enemies,” sneered Nihena. “Sure enough he’s come here for a scouting mission. When I approached them, they were speaking about some games.” The girl made a threatening step toward Zens, who automatically crawled backward. “After I deal with Zens, I’ll move on to questioning Arsy good and proper. Then we shall quickly see what games they were intending to play with us. I wonder how stupid one should be to come personally to the lair of predators and fall into a trap.”
Lord Mesdrin cast a look at Arsy, who was lying on the ground, then shifted his gaze to his obviously scared friend and said: “I don’t want to disappoint you, my darling, but I’m afraid Arsy wasn’t lying to you. Erathos and he are indeed enemies now. Perhaps you don’t know it, but quite recently, Erathos wanted to kill him.”
“That is absolutely true!” exclaimed Zens, clinging to the chance of knocking at least a bit of sense into this young feisty’s head. Finally, he dared to approach Arsy, apprehensively keeping his eyes f
ixed on Nihena, who was still standing in a combat stance. He leaned over him and tried to bring him to his senses. “We’ve come to you to ask for help and make you an offer,” Zens continued with an almost offended intonation. “We wanted to suggest you join our forces to fight your son’s murderer, whereas you take us for enemies.”
“Dad, I’m telling you. Their fictitious enmity is nothing but a part of the game,” Nihena addressed her father, keeping her scowl on the uninvited guests. “I’ll properly question Arsy right now, and he will tell me everything. I am sure we will also get to know Erathos’s location in the course of the interrogation.”
“Nihena, I’ll repeat it for you: they are indeed enemies. That is credible information.” Though the Lord’s voice was quite convincing, Nihena held to her opinion.
“Listen to your father,” Arsy pronounced finally, coming around after such a smashing blow. “I narrowly escaped death, but Erathos will kill me for sure next time. I’ve come here to ask you to teach me cathastu style.”
“That is impossible,” Mesdrin snapped without a moment of hesitation, shaking his head. “You’ve spent your time in vain. We don’t teach cathastu to outsiders, especially criminals such as yourselves.” He stayed silent for a significant time and then added in a calm and ice-cold tone, “Get out of here.”
Arsy painfully stood up. His blue eyes reflected deep disappointment, mixed with a sense of resentment and indignation. With a single laconic phrase, Lord Mesdrin had deprived him of all hope for salvation. Arsy was baffled; he didn’t expect a refusal, though Elmunia warned him multiple times that it was a fool’s errand, since mercenaries didn’t teach outsiders. However, Arsy was not the kind of man who gave way easily. He didn’t make such a long trek only to face a refusal.
“We are not talking about the secrets of combating techniques,” he started suavely. “We are talking about a common enemy. Erathos took away what was the most precious to you—your son. Aren’t you eager to avenge him, Lord Mesdrin?” Noticing flashes of hatred in the eyes of the ruler, Arsy continued, “Only cathastu can save my life. There’s no other way I can prevail over Erathos; I’m no match for him in open battle, at least not now.”
“He is lying, Dad! He needs cathastu to realize his sinister plans!” exclaimed Nihena.
“I will pay you a good price,” said Arsy.
“We don’t need your filthy money,” retorted the lord through his teeth. He pointed at the city exit. “You’ll find the way back yourselves.”
“What’s going on in this world? You taught Erathos this style, which he used to kill your son, but you flat out refuse to teach me—a person who’s ready to avenge his death. Where’s the logic?”
“We didn’t teach Erathos!” Lord Mesdrin’s angry voice roared through the yard. His eyes were burning so fiercely that Arsy felt awkward. However, the next second Lord Mesdrin calmed down and added in a milder tone, “I would personally like to know who taught him our martial style.”
Noticing suspicion in the lord’s eyes, Arsy decided to work on his sympathy.
“You don’t know who he actually is and what he’s capable of. I know him better than anyone else, and only I can stop him. I am aware of all his weak points. Making use of them, I was able to bring him to his knees, take all his property, and disarm his people. He’s been left absolutely alone in this world; there’s no one to give him a supporting hand in his hour of need. Why do you suppose he wants to kill me, instead of, say, inflict vengeance upon you? Because I made his life hell. We have a common enemy, and now I’m asking you to help me vanquish him.”
“Is he telling the truth, Dad?” Arsy’s speech was so convincing that Nihena finally believed him.
“Yes, my girl,” the lord nodded in response.
“If he’s indeed telling the truth, we can help each other.” She was still addressing her father but kept her eyes on Arsy.
“Thank God!” exclaimed Arsy with hope. “Prudence finally prevails.”
However, Lord Mesdrin was still in doubt. His hardened gaze beneath his thick eyebrows had become milder following Arsy’s arguments, but it was still full of suspicion and mistrust.
“Let’s see what Sensei Farin says in this regard,” he pronounced after a pause. “Let’s go; we shall talk to him right now.”
“Okay,” said Arsy, adding with a mysterious smile, “By the way, does Nihena have a fiancé? If she doesn’t, I would love to marry her!”
“When did that occur to you? While you were lying unconscious on the ground?” quipped Lord Mesdrin, laughing at his own joke.
“That’s fine with me!” the blue-eyed girl said without much reflection. “You should also give your consent, Daddy! But I have a condition…”
“And what is it?” asked Arsy with interest.
“I will only marry a man who prevails over me in battle,” answered Nihena, casting a sly glance at Arsy.
“Don’t speak nonsense!” said Lord Mesdrin angrily.
“I’m absolutely serious. If I ever resign myself to anyone, that someone must deserve it,” said Nihena playfully.
“Arsy, accept my friendly advice. Find yourself another girlfriend! She intentionally puts forward such stupid conditions to avoid getting married. I have long ago lost all hope of having grandchildren,” said the leader of mercenaries in a sad voice. “Well, let’s go.”
Nihena and Mesdrin went ahead, while Arsy and Zens followed them.
“Are you okay, Arsy? How are you feeling?” asked Zens in a small voice. “You’re kind of pale.”
“I’m perfectly fine, if you are asking about my physical well-being.” Arsy brushed himself off and added, disheartened: “As for humiliation and a sense of shame caused by the defeat in the battle with some chit of a girl, it will persist for quite a long time.”
“Forget it! She used the privilege of her gender; you simply couldn’t raise a hand to a girl. Were she a guy, you would have prevailed.” Zens was trying to cheer up his friend.
“I don’t think so! She moves extremely fast…” said Arsy wonderingly, recalling their battle.
“Right, I wasn’t even able to follow her movements,” agreed Zens, adding, “and she’s impressively strong for her slender figure! I didn’t think I would be able to hold her. She managed to hit me with her legs a few times while I was holding her, so my feet hurt badly,” said Zens despondently.
“Thank you for managing her,” noted Arsy, “otherwise, I’d be dead now. It’s obviously not our lucky day! I will never forget this day.”
“You really want to marry her?” inquired Zens.
“Only for revenge. I’d use her and then… Revenge was the only thing on my mind at that moment!”
“I don’t know what she was going to do with those hair sticks, but I’m sure if you did the wrong thing to her, she’d put your eyes out.”
“I didn’t think about it,” responded his friend. “Happily for me, she didn’t agree; otherwise, I’d be in trouble. It remains to be seen who will be the one to get revenge.”
Zens looked at Nihena walking ahead of them, mooring his glance on her skin-tight trousers. “Hell, she’s pretty!” he said with a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pretty girl in my life.”
Nihena had inherited her mother’s thick wavy hair, which she dyed in various shades of purple, as well as the “noble” nose, distinct cheekbones, and beautiful, sharply defined lips. Her father favored her with а nice stature and fit body, which she ultimately strengthened through multiple workouts, as well as expressive blue eyes that sparkled resolutely. These very eyes had caused arguments and subsequent fights between men. Under their straight and assertive stare even the most steadfast mercenaries could lose their temper and composure.
Oh, I’m sorry! I just noticed that the lord’s eyes are actually brown… In a word, it’s hard to say who she inherited the color of her eyes from; that’s not important, anyway!
But the most important thing she inherited from her father was her rigidity.
Following their arguments, Lady Morena often joked, saying they made a perfect pair of two mountain goats. Then she added, “But it seems like the daughter outran her dad!”
A great many men in the city had attempted to make an impression on Nihena, mostly by trying to protect her or showing their “manpower.” As became obvious quite quickly, Nihena didn’t need any protection. Enrolling in the mercenary school, despite her parents’ entreaties, Nihena turned the idea of a female mercenary upside down. Flexible, dexterous, and quick, she perfectly mastered all the combat techniques, putting an end to the sarcastic grins in her address once and for all.
“Yeah, she looks cute from behind as well,” agreed Arsy.
“Anyways, I don’t envy her future husband.” Zens shook his head. “One should be either a complete idiot or a desperate daredevil to marry this shrewish wildcat.”
“You know, if I weren’t in love with Parelia, I might take a shot at her.”
“And which one are you? The idiot or the daredevil?” sneered Zens, then answering his own question, “I guess the second, after all. You are an interesting person, I should say. Just a few minutes ago, you were swallowing the dust into which she threw you, and now, you are speaking about marriage.”
“Why do you absolutely need to remind me about my humiliating defeat?” joked Arsy, adding seriously, “I’ve come here to ask for help. And if it takes a good beating in order for them to agree to teach me, I am fine with it. Let’s forget this minor incident; I badly need their help. I have to learn that style of martial arts by all means.”
“I wonder if Nihena was combating you in that very style,” wondered Zens thoughtfully. Without waiting for his friend’s reply, he added, “She has a cunning glance, like that of a cat. She seems to be up to something.”
At that moment, Nihena turned back abruptly, which made the ribbons in her hair fly in different directions, and she cast a cheeky look at them, sneering.