by Kell Inkston
At that, groups of villagers turn about to their homes, bringing out their savings and relinquishing them to counters in the raiding group— along with family heirlooms, weapons, tools, and anything else they can use to pay off the town’s decennial 'protection fee'. Colette’s gaze intensifies. “That’s right—the collection. These guys really do belong to the overlord.” Grancis is quiet as Colette closes her eyes and rubs her temples in thought. “The sword!” she exclaims, looking over to town hall.
“Wh-what?” Grancis asks.
“I’m going to kill these bastards—find their mothers and kill them too,” Colette says, a blazing inferno of fury bottled inside of her, as if there were a second spirit within her, writing to get out.
Grancis draws back. “Colette, no! That’s a profoundly bad idea! Your ankle’s broken for heaven’s sake!”
“But my hands are fine. I got this,” Colette says, letting go of Grancis and leaning on a single foot.
Grancis shakes her head. “No, Colette. I’m not even sure you’re grasping just how hard it would be for an eighteen year old girl with a broken ankle to kill twelve armed adult men. Like, you’ll almost hit one, then they’ll smash you to a pulp. Tie you up, take you with them, then gods know what. Don’t do that.”
Colette squints in thought as she strokes her chin. “Okay, can we go to your house, then?”
Grancis sighs in relief and nods. “Yes, we absolutely can.”
“Good, so let’s go.” The suddenly turned-around Colette and Grancis sneak to the East edge of the village and enter the house.
Inside, a tall, glasses-wearing man is lurched over a desk. His dark bleak expression brightens instantly as he sees the two come in. “Well, hello there, Colette! Not very often that I see you these days.”
Colette nods. “Hey, doc. You know what’s going on outside?”
He nods. “They’re taking taxes. We’re all paid up, so I don’t need to be there… Not sure how well everyone together will do this time, though. Lots of new, poor families, and the tax increases one thousand per house. I don’t expect anything too upsetting, but people will definitely lose a lot.”
“Doc,” Colette interrupts.
Doctor Vereyrty adjusts his glasses in a way Colette finds quite handsome. “Colette?”
“The fuckers burnt down my house.”
The doctor’s expression is frozen a moment in his casual smile and then he calmly gets up from his chair, steps over to the window, and opens it. He sticks his head out, looks across to the south and spots the tower of smoke. “…I… I see… These men said they were from the overlord?”
“Pretty sure, yeah,” she says as she hops over to the wooden operating table.
The doctor draws back. “You’re hurt?”
She nods. “Yeah, got stuck by a beam when looking for my mom.”
He stares at her a moment in perfect blankness, then he abruptly comes to a nod as he looks down at the injury. His breath is short as he inspects her ankle. “Is your… mom okay?” He says this with a certain slyness that Colette isn’t quite privy to.
“No. The bastards ki-”
“We have no idea what happened to her. We couldn’t find her in the house,” Grancis cuts in, instantly winning a glare from Colette. There was a very distinct tone in her voice that only her father picks up on, and he comes to a nod.
He sighs. “I see… What you two did was dangerous.”
Colette scoffs. “Damn right! I’m about to be even more dangerous with these raider bastar-ow!” She flinches as the doctor sets her ankle back into place and applies a splint.
“You’ll do no such thing, young lady. She’ll pop up. I’m sure of it. Once the raiders leave I’ll arrange a search personally. You two should just stay here. These guys aren’t above taking anything they please. If anything happened to you two I wouldn’t forgive myself.” He finishes his treatment with shocking speed. “How does that feel?”
With a wince, Colette moves her ankle about slowly. “Wow, yeah. A little sensitive but it doesn’t really hurt.” She attempts to stand and does so successfully. “Oh yeah. You nailed it, doc. I should come by more often.”
The doctor squints an eye. “Do you get hurt often, Colette?”
Colette almost smirks. “All the ti-” She stops herself just as Grancis hums in suspicion. “Uh, all the time when I was a kid, but not much anymore. Got a hook in me once, remember that one, Gran?”
Grancis, her gaze slant and suspicious, slowly gives a nod. “I do.”
“Yeah… So like, do you have any food, Doc? We haven’t eaten all day.”
The doctor, handing Colette a crutch to use, smirks. “I do. Now use this crutch to keep the weight off the injury. We don’t want you to break it again. You just relax, Colette. This isn’t the first time someone’s lost their house, and we’ll find… eh, Celine by the time the night is over. I’ll cook something up and we’ll have a nice dinner together. How’s that sound?” He says this as his back is already turned to the hallway.
Colette nods and smiles. “Yeah, that’s great,” she says, grabbing a book and taking a chair at the table. Grancis’ features become even tighter in suspicion, but her father looks relieved.
“Excellent! How does fish and rice sound?”
“Great,” Colette says, peering down into the pages of one of the doctor’s books on psychology.
“Very good, very good!” He steps off into the kitchen. “I think you’ll like the direction my cooking’s gone. You haven’t tasted it since when you were just a little thing,” he calls from two rooms away as he looks for a sauce pan, “You were easily the cutest little girl in the vi- uh, well, you and Grancis were tied for cuteness of course; you know how it is. Don’t feel bad, you win some you lose some. I remember that day so well. It was the yearly festival and… well, Grancis’ mother wasn’t feeling very well, so I-” he goes on, and like most teenagers, Grancis and Colette lose interest and tune out.
Grancis crosses her arms and stares at Colette with the sort of coldness that one would see in the concerned look of a mother. “Enjoying the book?”
“Yup,” Colette says, leaning back and holding balance with her unhurt leg as she peers into the book.
“Didn’t know you could read upside down.”
Colette pauses a moment, silently turns the book the right side up, and continues 'reading'. “Yeah, well I like to practice from time to time, you know.”
“… Yeah.” Grancis starts over to take a seat opposite to Colette, but suddenly a voice rings out from the kitchen.
“-Oh, and Grancis. Mind helping me out with the rice? I need to make sure the seasoning’s spread evenly,” her father calls out.
Grancis sighs. “Coming!” She starts for the door, gets to the edge of the room, and turns back to Colette. “If you move an inch.”
Colette shrugs, her smile relaxed and light. “Sure,” she says with no small amount of sarcasm at all as she wriggles her injury about clear as day.
Grancis squints with the tightness of a sealed door before turning to the kitchen.
Colette listens with a smile, hearing Grancis move to the kitchen and talk to her dad. She silently replaces her chair’s legs upon the floor, puts down the book, takes up her crutch and, after a minute of waiting for the perfect blanket of noise from the kitchen, takes a stand and starts for the front door.
Two minutes later, Grancis invents the excuse of having to go to the restroom— but by that time, Colette’s long gone.
Colette Succeeds in Some Form of the Definition
Having snuck into the town hall via the same window she once so often used in her childhood games of 'assassin', Colette creeps out of sight and down to the end of the long table. Held over the great mantle is an ornate blade of considerable thickness and size; its colors of gold and silver shine brightly from the shaded daylight rays.
“Hi there~,” she mutters to herself, admiring the gleam as she gently lifts the blade from its place. With some difficulty,
she equips the blade in the one hand opposite to her crutch arm. Balancing the sword and crutch in tandem, she then squirms out again the same way, this time with a considerably rockier landing; she scarcely avoids re-injuring her ankle. Leaning up and looking forward, she sees none other than Grancis, staring right at her.
Colette grins. “Hey, Gran!”
“Colette,” Grancis responds sternly with that classic Grancis squint on her face that Colette’s getting more and more used to.
Colette’s smile dies out as the two stare at one another in silence. “I have to. You know that, right?”
“No, you don’t.” Grancis takes in a deep breath. “You’ll ruin your life. There’s still time, you can put that sword back and come with me. My dad’s waiting for us.”
“Thanks, but this is bigger than my life. They killed my mom, and you know better than anyone that whoever’d dare to do that would find themselves with a one way ticket to hell.”
Grancis sputters as Colette flips the sword over her shoulder and starts pathetically towards the village square. Grancis tries to think of anything that might stop her. “B-but Colette! I saw your mom just this morning leaving the house to go get something!”
Colette glances back blankly. “And if you knew my mom, you’d know she’d never leave her house unless it would save her life. She’s dead. I’m sure she’s dead.”
Grancis steps forward to follow her. “Colette, please, that doesn’t make sense!”
“Maybe not to you, but I know her. I’m her daughter, after all.” Colette moves on, rounding the corner before the crowd.
Grancis takes a deep breath, a nasty glint appearing in her eyes. “H-how do you know your mom’s dead if you can’t even see her?!”
Colette drops the sword and turns to look at Grancis. “What’d you say?”
Grancis pulls in a trembling breath as Colette approaches her, gazes connected the entire time. “Your mom… wasn’t alive today, or yesterday, or last year, Colette! You’re the only person that lives in that house! As if I even needed to humor your stupid delusions!”
Colette stares at Grancis a moment more, then punches her to the best of her ability for the second time today. Grancis draws back, avoiding the majority of the force and getting away with a slightly bruised cheek. “Fuck you, Gran,” Colette says. “You just never met her. She’s… She was cooped up all day because of her sickness, for your information.”
Grancis leans forward again. “Yes, six years ago. She’s been dead this whole time since! Don’t throw yourself away for someone who’s already go-”
This time Colette doesn’t miss. Grancis jolts back and lands on her behind, both hands covering her face. “Bye,” Colette says, looking down on her friend for what she assumes is the last time. Colette turns to leave and goes toward the crowd. Trotting forward with a focused gaze, she weaves in.
“I have something to give you,” she says to the figure in the center of the group. Just as things were cooling down, the collectors turn and see Colette brandishing the sword. The townspeople gasp in horror.
“Baldrine’s Blade!” A wide-eyed youth exclaims in disbelief.
Already at the center of the crowd, Colette presents the blade to the foremost man, the chief of the raiding party. Amidst the angry, horrified responses in the crowd, Colette holds still, and watches the chief smile at the glimmer of the blade. “Well, damn! This is a fine blade here!”
“Thank you,” Colette says over the frantic fury from everyone she knows around her, “it’s an heirloom. Should be worth a fair amount.”
The chief nods, his grin widening with every intricate detail his eye finds. “This would… Yeah. This would be worth somethin’ for sure. Hand it over.”
“I’ll hand it to you, sure,” Colette comes forward to the outstretched hands of the chief raider.
Something runs through Colette; a feeling. The very same feeling she gets when she feels a tug on the other end of the line or dodges an opponent’s punch—a visceral 'click' sort of feeling that seems as natural as closing one’s eyes in the evening after an exhausting day. Colette runs through the raider chief with perfect poise, goes through the chest and just to the right of the spine. She really did enjoy Grancis’ lectures about human anatomy while fishing.
The raider chief jolts back, pulling a hand’s length of blade from his ribs just long enough for him to fall on his knees and plop into the dirt. Flush, spewing blood paints the blade in the half second this happened, as the villagers draw back in horror and the other raiders leap forward. Grancis only starts to push through the crowd as it quickly splits and widens at the center. Wiping the last stream of blood from her face, she spots Colette, stomped into the ground, the sword tossed aside, and five different crossbows pointed at her face and neck.
The second in command among the raiders spits on Colette, driving his boot into her back, and looks up to the crowd. “Any objections to us taking one life for another?” he asks with a straight, emotionless tone.
A few hushed voices among the crowd toss about thoughts of consideration, but just as the town elder steps forward, the raiders raise their crossbows to the crowd. “ ‘Yes’ is the only answer we’ll take here,” the second in command states with a slight smirk. “No objections?” Everyone steps back. “Nobody?” Another step back. “Alright then!” The new leader flicks out a knife from his waistcoat and crouches on top of Colette. “Such a shame, looks like no one cares enough to die for you— they’re lucky they’re so smart. Now, how about your eyes first?” he turns the knife’s point against the downed girl’s eyelid. Jeers and laughter resound in the raiders around Colette, but farther, she can hear the cries and pleas of the townspeople around her. She takes a deep breath and straightens her gaze to the dirt, refusing to give them the satisfaction of an honorless mark. Just as Colette feels the blade peel around her eyelid, she hears the voice of her best friend— the very same that she punched in the face just a minute ago.
“Wait! Please!” Grancis exclaims, bursting out from the wall of the crowd.
The new leader raises his knife from Colette’s iris. “What?”
“She’s out of her mind! S-she’s crazy! She thought you killed her mother!”
Colette growls as the leader hums. “That so? Too bad. She definitely killed my superior.”
“E-even so! She didn’t know better! Forgive her! She’s not… she’s not well in her head!”
The new raider chief squints an eye in the thought, looks down at Colette, then looks back to Grancis, scanning her over carefully. “Oh? Do you care that much about her?”
Grancis clenches her fists and releases a resounding “Of course I do!”
The man laughs, exchanges a few looks between his fellow men, and gestures her to come forward. Grancis obliges, and he leans in and tickles her ear with a few whispered words. It’s too quiet for Colette to hear, but she does notice Grancis begins trembling. The men surrounding her don’t need to hear it either, but they, along with the horrified townspeople, can all take a fair guess as to what’s being exchanged. Grancis takes a couple long breaths and then nods in acceptance. She whispers back to the man, and immediately he swings around to the crowd with a grin. “Well! Today’s your lucky day. We’ve decided that with this sword and everything else offered, we’ll consider it fair and be on our way.”
There’s no cheering in the crowd, and anything almost resembling relief on their features transfigure instantly to shame when they see Grancis step off with the men. The raiders pack up in only a minute’s time and they leave without another word, Grancis held close by the new chief. From the spring of blood running over her face, Colette barely makes out Grancis, disappearing over the horizon.
Every fiber of the downed lass is begging for revenge, but none respond to her plea. Her face is a pale white from the blood loss and multitude of bruises; she can barely see five feet in front of herself. Slowly, she feels darkness close in around her, and a pair of adult hands pick her up and carry her aw
ay to one of the buildings. Everything else is a blur.
The Quest and The Deal
Some time later she feels the sting of consciousness move through her mind once more. She opens her eyes and sees herself lying on Grancis’ bed. At first she’s confused, but she only needs to look out the window into the pitch darkness to remind her what happened. Colette leans up from the bed, alerting the middle-aged man slumped over on a desk at the other side of the room.
“You’re up,” Grancis’ father says.
Colette squints into the dark to see his previously resting figure bending up. “H-…Hi.” She goes pale again, this time not from blood loss.
“She…” He takes a breath. “You’ve been out for a few hours. They brought you to me and I patched you up… Are you alright? Feeling any pain?”
She stares through the dark to the slight glint of his glasses. “Doc… I’m uh… I’m sorry.”
The Doctor takes another deep breath. “Thank you… Thank you, Colette… she told me she was just going to get you… is all.”
“So then they really did take-” Colette stops, seeing The Doctor’s silhouette arch over in agony.
“Yes… She’s gone.”
Colette looks over The Doctor for a moment, and her eyes spark with determination. “Doc, don’t worry. I promise I’ll get her ba-”
“No, no you won’t,” he interrupts, hand pressed to his face.
Colette flinches. “Yes, I wi-”
“And if you try to kill the overlord, what then? He’ll just come and kill everybody! I knew—” he takes another breath, “I knew that as the village orphan you would get some funny ideas, but I thought I knew you better than this. I couldn’t believe what the others told me when they came to tell me that Grancis… my little girl, just sold herself for you.” He takes a stand abruptly and turns for the door.