Chapter Text
The train rumbles forward.
Its steady, familiar rhythm has come to soothe her over the years.
She has a personal cabin but those who are brave and saw her board knock to declare their admiration. She thanks them and they move on.
These interruptions used to annoy her, and some days they still do. Is it her age or her meditations that have softened her? Neither possibility particularly offends her.
♞
She reaches the Kazimierz outskirts.
She may have entered into a temporary contract with Rhodes Island but had been gracious enough to think they would not send her back here so soon. Kazimierz has started to seep back into her life again, just when she thought she was leaving it behind. She cannot say Kazimierz deserves her loathing but she has yet to let go of her contempt.
A Rhodes Island operator meets her at one of the nearby field offices where she picks up the instructions for the the operation. “Want me to escort you there?” He asks as she reads the details over. He recognizes her but does not comment. “The terrain can get rough.”
Kazimierz’s terrain is more than manageable if you travel by foot. She looks up from the letter. “What is your name?”
“Michael.”
She had expected something over-the-top and nonsensical. It appears not all Rhodes Island employees need to take on ridiculous code names. “I’ll find my way, Michael.”
♞
Dzwonik, Dewville, Dabrowa. There are many small towns and forgotten villages outside of Kazimierz. Some are lucky enough to get by in their obscurity. Others live their lives free of Kazimierz’s chains before raiders arrive to clasp them tightly around their necks.
It is what Rhodes Island suspects and so they have sent her to investigate.
Degenbrecher makes the long journey remembering when she left here, free of the shackles she wore for so long, only to be shackled again by another. Or so she thought. Kazimierz hates those who refuse to bend the knee so they tried to kill her. It was manageable but a nuisance. Enciodes saved her from having to deal with it and the life she would have spent being hunted for her defiance.
She hopes that Enciodes and Gnosis are staying out of trouble in her absence. They know she will be there if they need her. Her life in Kjerag is not one she ever imagined for herself but it is home. She is used to meeting the locals, to running small errands. She didn’t think she would miss it but she finds now that she does.
The journey sees her through lonely roads and steep mountains. She encounters no one. On the third day, she sees smoke pluming in the distance. She picks up her weapons and walks towards it.
♞
She smells the blood before she sees the bodies. She would guess they’ve been dead only a few hours. Whoever slayed them killed indiscriminately. There are men, young and old, among the dead, as well as bodies so small she first confused them for ragdolls. She stoops and checks them to be sure. When she was younger she made the mistake of not confirming her kills and paid dearly for it. The same could be said for her enemies.
These people are not fighters. They are farmers and traders. She checks them one by one. They’re cold to the touch. The children she checks last. Still warm. But gone. She stands, her jaw clenched.
The village burns. A windmill spins lazily. There’s laughter, loud and drunkenly, as well as screams. The clashing of swords. Laughter cut away before there’s a different kind of shouting.
She hurries further into the village. There are more bodies, but these don’t belong to the villagers. They are mercenaries or bandits.
She rounds a corner, past a shrunken cow to see a brawl. There’s a Kuranta girl with a sword and shield. Red hair, red armor, red sword. A family is huddled tightly together behind her, faces pale and wet with tears, terrified.
“Get back!” the girl shouts at the bandits surrounding her. Despite being covered in blood and being surrounded her voice doesn’t shake. “Just walk away!”
There’s one bandit the others look to. Degenbrecher is certain he’s the leader. “You killed my men.”
“After they killed those villagers. After they wouldn’t walk away.”
“I don’t know, man,” one of the bandits says. “She looks an awful lot like—”
The leader scoffs. “Who cares? One of her, five of us. She’s not the one who matters anyway.” He draws his sword and spits to the side. “Her kind never did anything for us. Why should you have a home while we rot, huh!? We don’t choose who we’re born to!” He turns back to the girl. “This village is ours now and you’re trespassing. Step aside. We finish the job, you get to walk away. Now that’s what I call a bargain, especially for an aristocrat like you. You won’t beat us so best save your skin. Dying for strangers isn’t worth it. Go back to your life of luxury.”
The family behind her screams in terror, no doubt believing they’re about to be abandoned. Degenbrecher would believe it too if not for the girl planting her feet into the ground, if not for how her grip tightens on the hilt of her sword, her shield coming up. “I will not give in to you cowards.”
“Fuck this,” one of the bandits says, “if she wants to get herself killed she can go right ahead. Been a while since I’ve had a woman. Got me curious. What do you look like under all that armor and blood?”
“Come closer and find out,” she says through gritted teeth.
Degenbrecher chuckles. The men turn around. Their reverence and fear are clear. She doesn’t care. She unhooks her sword breakers. “You were foolish not to walk away. I am not so naive as that girl. I know what you will do if you leave here.” She looks to the family looking on, confusion and hope touching their tear-streaked faces. “Hide your children’s eyes. They should not see this.”
“Just who—” The leader starts.
Degenbrecher swings and he falls over like a sack of potatoes, a dust cloud rising with his collapse. What comes next happens quickly. Having preyed on the innocent and weak for so long they overestimate themselves. They rush her and she beats them down. The last bandit is crazed, manic, and spiteful. He lunges at the family, swinging a scythe, desperate to do something.
The girl who is fending off the other bandits who rushed out of a nearby building, at the commotion, cuts them down before she steps between the maniac and the family. He’s close. Too close. She’ll get herself and that family killed — but no— she sidesteps and lifts her shield slamming it into his back, sending him careening forward. He slams facedown into the dirt. She walks over to him, sword in hand as he attempts to drag himself to safety.
Degenbrecher watches, curious to see what she’ll do. She didn’t tremble before but now the sword she carries is unsteady.
Papa, she saved us!
The girl looks back to the family and Degenbrecher steps to where she is, past her to the man. She grabs the collar of his jacket and jerks him to his feet, unsure if his legs are working. “Is the rest of the village clear?” she asks the girl.
The girl looks at her and blinks. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“That’s all of them,” the woman from the group calls out. Degenbrecher looks to her. She and what she presumes is her husband look to be in their thirties. There are two children with them. “They were all at the tavern. I counted them—”
“All right,” Degenbrecher says to the girl. “Go help them. I’ll take care of this.”
Her lips part. “What will you do?”
“Some information gathering to start.” The girl doesn’t move; she looks around, only then seeming to take in the blood that has soaked the ground. The missing limbs. The work that was done before Degenbrecher’s arrival. “You can bury the innocent if you want to help balance the scales.” Degenbrecher doesn’t wait for a response. She moves off. The man is beginning to struggle. A small warning and he goes quiet again.
Hey lady! Hey lady!
Degenbrecher looks back. One of the children runs to the girl. She stoops to meet his approach. Despite the blood and the mess, she has a regal bearing. Are you a knight?
A knight? The wind carries her voice to Degenbrecher. It sounds young and bright, measured. When she speaks again her voice is melancholy. Long ago, I—
Degenbrecher doesn’t hear the rest.
♞
The sun is setting when Degenbrecher returns hours later. The bodies near the entrance of the village have been removed and the buildings that had been ablaze only smolder now.
She moves deeper into the village. Even the bandits’ corpses have been moved, but the bloodied ground tells their end. She hears the familiar sound of a shovel hitting dirt and moves toward it. The bloodied girl knight is there, her weapons, as well as the shield and chest piece to her armor, have been set aside. Sweat runs down her face, carving clean lines in the blood that still cakes her face.
“I didn’t mean for you to actually dig graves.”
Digging a grave for one body is difficult. There are exponentially more here. The girl glances at her, but she does not take her words as permission to stop. She continues digging the hole, and Degenbrecher sees a small mountain of dirt off to the side. “Someone has to do it.”
“Not you.”
The girl tosses her another look and Degenbrecher knows she has fallen in her estimation. She resumes her digging. The shovel is poor, the collar on it weak and the blade warped. Degenbrecher looks at the armor that has been set aside. It’s familiar to her but not immediately identifiable. There used to be identifying decorative ribbons on it like the knights in the Major wear but they have been cut away.
“What of the family?” she asks.
“The children are inside. Their parents are washing the bodies of those who were lost.”
“I see.” She walks away to find a wagon loaded with the bandits’ bodies. She sees the rocks piercing through their skin where their clothes have been disheveled. She sighs inwardly. All of them, then. “They need to be moved far from here. They’re infected.”
The girl’s eyes are foggy before she nods grimly. “All right.”
“There’s no time to waste.” The girl wipes her face with her arm, smearing dirt into her already bloody face. She starts to pull herself out of the grave she’s half-buried in. Degenbrecher shakes her head. “Remain here. I’ll handle it.”
“I can do it.”
“Maybe. But not quickly enough.” There’s a flash of frustration on the girl’s face followed by something like sorrow before her face is blank altogether. “I’m Degenbrecher. What should I call you?”
The girl hesitates, looking at her again. “Maria.”
“I’ll leave things here to you, Maria.” Degenbrecher starts to walk away when Maria calls out to her. “He won’t return,” she answers when Maria asks about the bandit.
“What will you do with the…”
“Bodies? I do not have the tools to properly dispose of them.” Normally Rhodes Island handles these kinds of things. Some towns and cities have their ways of taking care of the remains. She does not currently have access to any of those means. “I will have to find somewhere to seal them away where others will not come into contact with them.”
Maria nods slowly. “There’s an abandoned cave ten kilometers east or so. I spent some time there before making my way here. The structural integrity was poor. I didn’t stay because I worried it’d collapse at any moment. It isn’t on any maps.” She gives her landmarks instead.
Degenbrecher considers. Barring any contamination of water supplies it could work. A helpful push to usher the collapse of the cave might do it then. “Thank you for the suggestion.”
She looks at the wagon and its wheels. They’re in questionable condition but it should be enough to make the trip. No point in asking for permission from the remaining villagers. Other wagons remain should they have the need. She foregoes the horses. Those at the stable look worse for wear and she isn’t sure they could make the short journey or pull the wagon. She picks up the handles and lifts taking a few steps. The wagon rolls behind her. Very well then. She’ll do it this way. It’s tedious work but it’s better than sitting around twiddling her thumbs.
She’s at the entrance of the village when Maria catches up with her. Degenbrecher sets the cart down. Maria’s brought oil and a torch. “It’ll be dark soon,” she explains. Oh. That’s what it’s for. Degenbrecher mounts the torch to the cart, tucking the other items to her belt. The last Maria gives her is a small square package, wrapped in cloth. “Some food for the road. They weren’t sure when you’d be back and I don’t want to disturb them right now.”
Degenbrecher takes the sandwich, noticing the streaks of blood and dirt on the cloth. “They provided this for you.”
“I’m not very hungry. I can eat later.”
She looks ragged and worn. She should eat now. “And if I don’t return?”
“Then you don’t return.”
Degenbrecher feels the painful knot in her stomach. “I appreciate it.” She picks up the handles to the wagon and begins her trek. She’ll have to return to detail the events that unfolded for her report to Rhodes Island. And if for nothing else, to ensure that the girl has eaten.
♞
The way back is treacherous. This is unmapped, remote territory and in the darkness, it’s difficult to tell what direction she’s moving in. She moves in the impenetrable black, the torch that was provided to her enough to stop her from tripping off deep embankments but not enough to tell her where she is.
When the rain starts the torch loses its utility completely. She resigns herself to being lost, until she sees light flickering in the distance like a firefly. Degenbrecher follows it like a sailor following a lighthouse to a safe harbor.
♞
Degenbrecher hears a persistent clanging like that of a train traveling on rails along its set path. A flash of light and then gone, another flash and then gone. She finds Maria standing over a heated forge and anvil, bringing down mean strikes on the metal she’s working on. There is an assortment of items off to the side. Horseshoes, wagon wheels, shovels.
The rain has washed the blood away. The armor Degenbrecher thought to be red is white, the auburn hair is blonde. Maria faces her, hammer in hand, and there is no mistaking now what family this woman hails from. “You’re back,” she sounds surprised beneath her fatigue. “I was hoping you’d escaped the rain.”
She chuckles. “This was the closest I could find to escape.” She takes the towel that Maria hands her and wipes the rain from her face, shedding her jacket and setting it aside after wringing the water from it. “So that’s what you look like beneath all that grime.” Maria smiles tiredly at her. “A wiser woman would have taken to rest, not blacksmithing.” She sits on a bale of hay.
“I was waiting for the rain to stop.” She goes to the barn door and looks out. The rain continues falling heavily. “I hadn’t seen an anvil or a forge in a little while so I thought I might as well get some work done.”
“One works best when one is rested.” It isn’t always a possibility but it is now.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Was that your first time killing?”
“No. I hear that it gets easier but I don’t want it to.”
“It does regardless of what you want.”
Maria sighs softly.
“If you’re going to be stubborn and not go inside, then sleep now. I’ll help you with the graves in the morning. It’ll be done much faster if we both work on it.”
Maria returns to the forge picking up the blade and collar of the shovel and starting work on them. Degenbrecher lies back, folding her arms behind her head. Clank, clank, clank. The noise is calming and Degenbrecher soaks herself in the comfort before it comes to an end, the silence jarring her to alertness.
Maria takes a seat on a nearby hay bale and lies back. Her stomach grumbles for an embarrassingly long time.
“Did you eat?” Degenbrecher asks.
“Not yet.”
She thought as much. She gives her the remaining half of the sandwich Maria passed on earlier. The bread is too dry, the cheese too hard but the meat was satisfying, and given her hours without food it tasted much better than it had any right to. Maria takes the sandwich, too tired to argue. As expected, the fool girl had not gone in to get food. Maria has a few bites of the sandwich and satisfied Degenbrecher turns on her side, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep. She feels her gaze on her.
“You’re the Black Knight, aren’t you?”
“Some call me by that title. Is that a problem?” The circles that the Nearls dwell in have never cared for her lot.
“No.”
She waits for more questions but they don’t come. She’s just falling asleep when she speaks again.
“I’ll take watch in case anyone comes.”
The bandits will not be back, nor does she think the woman will be able to keep her eyes open much longer. “Suit yourself.”
Degenbrecher sleeps.
♞
Degenbrecher wakes and finds Maria working on the grave again. She looks ready to keel over. One of the graves is finished and she has started work on another. “I’ll take over now,” she tells her. “You get some sleep.”
Maria nods, passing the shovel over to her wordlessly before disappearing into the barn. The shovel is the one she was working on the night before. It’s sharp. Degenbrecher has made it through two graves when the family exits the home. They look somewhat refreshed but more devastated than before. The children want to find Maria and as soon as Degenbrecher tells them where she is they race off to find her. So much for her rest.
She learns the names and ages of those who were slain. Most were killed before Maria’s arrival. The children she found were the niece and nephew of the family. The night prior was spent explaining to their children how their cousins would never return. They asked why the bandits did what they did. How can you explain something so senseless to children?
Degenbrecher understands well why the bandits did what they did, but illuminating them of their reasons would not be productive so she lets it go. The village has been visited by the bandits before all of this. They went to the tavern and made a nuisance of themselves. We thought we could avoid trouble if we were polite. If we let them do what they want. That only works for a small window of time.
“Was that girl here when they began their attack?”
The woman shakes her head. “We thought she was going to get herself killed when she came charging into the tavern. “And I thought— better her. Better her than me or my children.”
Degenbrecher sees and hears her shame. “It is natural to want to survive,” Degenbrecher says. “There are far greater things to be ashamed about.”
Maria comes out of the barn with the children. She has dark circles under her eyes and a smile on her face. Once again she kneels when she talks to them. The children’s faces are cheerful enough. Children do not quite understand death in the same way that adults do. Perhaps they are lucky that way.
Degenbrecher turns her attention from Maria. “Were any of the villagers infected? They won’t be able to be buried here if they were.”
“No,” the parents tell her emphatically, the disgust in their voices on display.
If it were up to her she would just leave but Maria has already given her word. “Let’s get to work,” she calls out to her. Maria nods, ruffling the children’s hair and joining her.
They spend the rest of the day working fast and hard. Maria does not have her stamina but she has more than most and better yet, a stubborn streak that seeks to defy those who tell her she’s at her limit. No, she won’t rest, yes, she can keep going and somehow she does.
They bury the bodies that evening and the survivors stumble through their prayers, the children hugging their parents’ legs awkwardly, trying to offer them some comfort.
Later they eat dinner with the family in their humble accommodations before parting ways for the night to investigate the village. They arrive at the tavern last. It still smells of blood but Degenbrecher is used to that smell, sometimes it even makes her feel nostalgic.
Maria finds a towel and begins cleaning up the blood that has sprayed on the walls and tables.
“Why are you doing that?” Degenbrecher asks.
She’s agitated. “Nobody wants to see their loved ones’ blood spilled everywhere.”
She doesn’t know why this girl is needlessly exerting herself. “You continue to dote on those villagers. Will you sing them a lullaby until they drift off to sleep, then?” What is it that Maria’s trying to prove exactly?
“No, I won’t do that,” but her tone suggests she had sheepishly considered it. “Anyway— I created part of the mess.”
Ah. Degenbrecher sorts through the barrels of alcohol. All empty, no doubt raided by the bandits. She continues her search and finds a bottle of wine, a few years old, and opens it, pouring them both glasses. “Once you’re done there feel free to enjoy that.” She has a sip and finds that she’s been spoiled by Enciodes and the time she’s spent in Kjerag.
Maria stubbornly cleans. It’s funny to see an aristocrat on her hands and knees, scrubbing up blood. Usually, her kind gets the help to clean up their messes. “I’m tired just watching you,” she tells her.
“I didn’t think the Black Knight could get tired. But that was long ago, wasn’t it?”
Is she needling her? Degenbrecher laughs softly. Yes, all things considered, that was a lifetime ago.
♞
In the end, Degenbrecher helps her clean up the blood. There’s nothing she loathes more than sitting idle and there’s nothing to do for recreation for miles.
When they finish they return to the barn, finding piles of hay to lie down on. She shifts, feeling restless. All in all, it was a boring day. Digging graves, funerals, wiping up blood, none of it is new for her. She should have brought the bottle of wine with them. She turns a few times before settling onto her back.
“Can’t sleep?” Maria asks.
“Not yet.” A pile of hay is far better than the worst she’s slept in and better than many have. She looks at her. Maria isn’t as young as Degenbrecher first thought but she’s likely lived twice as long as she has. Her face looks as if it’s carved from marble, but the busts she’s seen have never looked so conflicted. “That blood you were covered in yesterday. Was any of it yours?”
“No. But they thought it was so I let them think it.”
Degenbrecher smiles. “Clever.” She’s not one for chit-chat but she’s become accustomed to talking to Kjerans. If she can’t sleep she might as well make conversation. “Do you usually ride into town to charge at bandits?”
She smiles wryly. “Nothing like that. I saw the fire and heard the screaming.”
“And you just happened to be in the area.” Degenbrecher continues when Maria doesn’t respond. “You’re a long way from home.”
“Not so far as you.”
“I’m here on a mission. Rhodes Island heard tales of villages going dark. I’ve entered into a contract with them and so they’ve sent me to investigate.” A beat. “How does a Nearl find herself wandering in the middle of nowhere?”
“I’m not the first Nearl to wander.”
She thinks she hears a kernel of anger in her voice. She dwells on it a little longer. Yes. It was anger. At her sister? At the machine that exiled her? “No. Everyone knows that legend.” Maria’s jaw clenches. “Does Rhodes Island also have you on this operation?” She read over the operators’ files when she was onboarded. This woman is also on their roster.
“No. I’m here on my own.”
“To what end?” She asks. Maria frowns. “Is that an insensitive question?”
Her frown remains. “No.”
“For how long have you been wandering?”
“Hm. A few months.”
“Does your family know where you are?” Maria doesn’t answer. “What will they do if you get yourself killed in the middle of nowhere?”
“They’ll carry on.”
“Mh.” Is her family so distant or do they prize reputation and appearances above all?
“I’m not planning to get myself killed in the middle of nowhere. I was holding my own before you arrived.”
Yes, she had, messy as she was, but Degenbrecher has made bigger messes in her day. “What is it that you plan to do?”
She gets no answer. When she looks at her she expects to find her asleep but she isn’t. Is the question so difficult? Is it only that she’s lost? She’s ready to let it go when Maria speaks. “You only know me as Margaret’s sister, don’t you?” Degenbrecher considers the question. Yes. She only knows her as that. She wouldn’t even know that if they didn’t look so alike. Maria’s jaw isn’t as hard, but her eyes may be harder. She didn’t realize Nearl had a sister until she browsed the files on Rhodes Island. “That’s all people know about me. People tell me I won’t get far on borrowed dreams alone. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Everything I thought I wanted, everything I thought I knew about knights and Kazimierz was a lie. And the only thing I’ve learned since starting this journey is that I don’t always know how to fix things outside of a workshop. Margaret would have found a way to resolve what happened here. I couldn’t. I just…”
Degenbrecher waits. When she doesn’t speak Degenbrecher does. “You did resolve things here. Not as neatly as others might have but you used what you had in the moment. You survived and you made sure that they survived. That family is alive thanks to you. Do you regret saving them?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then what is it that you’re fixated on? Appearances? Would you rather have left here with your honor intact and their blood on your hands?”
“No,” she says more fiercely. “I once cared about my family’s reputation. I would never want to ruin it, or besmirch their accomplishments, but counting on rigged competitions by corrupt men doesn’t seem the right way to gain it, either. I was so angry at my uncle when he ridiculed me for wanting to join the Kazimierz Major and keep our honor, but he was right about that.
The truth is that I didn’t want to listen to anyone who told me that I couldn’t do it. I figured if I dedicated myself to it, I would. It was my responsibility. If I had to find an unconventional way, if I had to break their armor— or bend the rules— it didn’t matter so long as I prevailed. If it’s for a good reason it should be fine. Honor doesn’t matter when it comes to doing what’s right. If people want to say I’m doing it wrong or I lack honor— that I’m not a proper Nearl, let them. I don’t want to live off my family’s legacy. I can’t think of anything that would make me more miserable— reaping glory for something I didn’t accomplish.
I want to help people in any way I can. I have to stand on my own two feet. I can’t leave everything to Margaret. She’s given so much. People keep using me to get to her. It’s not fair to her. I won’t be a burden. I won’t sit by and allow it just hoping for it to get better. But sacrificing needlessly, just to say that I have— I won’t do that either. Kazimierz is rotten from the very top. I want to stop it but I don’t know enough. I’m not strong enough. I haven’t been tested. I have to get stronger.”
Degenbrecher studies her. So she can talk. “Then you are a knight-errant wandering the lands to challenge herself.”
Maria laughs, folding an arm behind her back. “To hear the Black Knight say it. I must sound so childish.”
She considers. “And if I said you did? Would that stop you?”
“Not on your life.”
Degenbrecher lies back again, closing her eyes. “You remind me of a youth I once knew.”
“If you were anyone else I’d say you were talking about yourself,” she says lightly. Degenbrecher stiffens. “If I were anyone else, maybe,” she adds. “My friends back home really like saying things like that. ‘You remind me of so and so’ and it’s usually always them. Maybe that’s just how older people are. Not that you’re old. Not as old as them anyway. Not that we’re friends.”
“Be quiet now.”
“Okay.”
Degenbrecher smiles at her quick agreement. She nestles into the hay. It’s easier to get comfortable here than in conventional beds. Furniture is rarely designed with her horns in mind. She thinks of a younger Enciodes, a younger her, questioned at so many points in their journey, both defying the odds stacked against them. Will this young Nearl be the same? Or will she retreat to her life of comfort as so many lofty nobles do? A knight-errant in this day and age, and no chivalric love to attend to like the countless others who use it as an excuse to pursue their whoring.
Not that she hasn’t indulged in her own debauchery. There isn’t anything she hasn’t done but it’s another thing that grew dull after a while. She’s falling asleep, her thoughts drifting away when Maria’s voice jolts her awake. Degenbrecher thinks to Maria lifting the glass of red wine Degenbrecher left for her. She tilted her head back, drinking voraciously, downing it in one go. The wine stained her lips for precious moments, her tongue flicking over her lips to catch the last drop. Does the wine not affect her? Why can’t she drowse off the way Gnosis does?
“I once heard that when Kazimierz warred against Ursus we would allow our own to be captured by them. The Infected.”
Degenbrecher sighs. “What of it? Kazimierz treats everyone poorly.” Only a spoiled girl would be surprised by this.
“Not those with money. Not those with status. You know what they do to the Infected in Ursus, don’t you?”
“More than you, girl. Ursus is far from the only country to abuse the Infected. Most just hide it better.” Kjerag is the lone exception. She feels a small surge of pride for the place.
“It’s not right.”
“Next you mean to tell me that you’ll save the Infected, too.”
“That’s a nice goal but I’m not foolish enough to believe I can save everyone. Not on my own. I’m not sure I even want to.” She sighs. “Anyway, Rhodes Island prioritizes that kind of thing.”
Sure they do, so long as they can continue to build an army and forge relationships all across Terra. Not that it matters. She’ll do as she’s told. “Go to sleep.”
“All right.” Degenbrecher glares at a spider’s web a few feet off, waiting. “The thing is—” Maria continues. Degenbrecher regrets not having a pillow to put over her head or to suffocate Maria with, “that what those Infected bandits wanted was something that most people take for granted. They went about it in all the wrong ways, true, but what choice did they have? The Infected in Kawalerielki are treated horribly— and that’s now after years and years of improvement. Before then— we weren’t even allowed to know they existed. Sorry, I guess I’m talking a lot but I’ve been on my own for a few months and haven’t had anyone to talk to.”
Degenbrecher turns back to her, narrowing her eyes. If she’s truly sorry she’ll shut up.
“Is it wrong for them to fight for a home?” Maria continues. “Is it their fault they became so desperate? That victory over the bandits was no victory.” Maria rubs her eyes. “They were weak and I— I’m used to fighting mightier foes. I can’t haul wagons full of— full of people like you can—” Degenbrecher smirks, “but maybe I don’t know my strength.”
Degenbrecher saw Maria’s arms the day before, slick with rain and sweat. Surely the girl must have some idea. She’s agitated, feeling warmer than she was moments ago. She resigns herself to not sleeping for the moment. “We’ve discussed this already. You speak of not wanting to needlessly sacrifice and yet now you sanctimoniously flog yourself for finishing off child murderers. Killing a child is wrong. It isn’t even a challenge.”
“That’s not the primary reason why it’s wrong,” Maria mutters.
“Their story may be unusual to you but it is not unusual to many in Terra. Those who use their sob stories to justify their cruelty disgust me. At least be honest about it.”
Maria’s quiet and Degenbrecher hopes that she has been stunned into silence.
“But Rhodes Island employs many operators with checkered pasts,” she says.
Kjeragandr give her strength. “Including the monster of the Kazimierz arena. Once they go rogue Rhodes Island will simply cut ties with them and pretend the relationship never existed to begin with.”
She feels her eyes on her back. “Have you done terrible things?”
“Haven’t you heard the stories about me?” Not any of it shames her, even if some would feel shame about that absence of it. Degenbrecher has waited for it but it has never arrived.
“I’ve heard stories about me,” Maria says. “Not all stories are true.”
The hay beneath Degenbrecher shifts and she swears under her breath, trying to pile it back into place for a makeshift pillow. “The stories about me are tame compared to my exploits.” There’s another bout of quiet but Degenbrecher knows better than to think she’ll keep her mouth shut.
“I think you’re trying to scare me.”
“Have I?”
Another long beat. “A little.”
“Then run away. It’s late and I want to sleep. I won’t give chase.”
She waits for her to leave but she doesn’t. Nor does she speak. Degenbrecher can’t get comfortable. She knows the girl is bound to speak once more and pry sleep from her yet again.
“Um. Miss Black Knight, Ma’am...?”
And now she has been reduced to a school marm. She ignores her, hoping it’ll be enough to prompt her to shut up and sleep. Minutes pass and she thinks she’s succeeded.
“I know you’re awake,” Maria says. “Your tail has been moving for the last few minutes. I know I’ve vexed you. You don’t have to answer now but I was thinking that I’d like for you to train me. I know we’ve only just met but I’m an excellent student and if you take me on I promise to do exactly as you ask. I know it’s bold to ask. You could take your pick of any number of prized students and who’s to say you’re willing to teach anyone on a private basis at all? But it would be foolish for me to pass up the opportunity. If I want to be the best I must be trained by one of the best. So I am kindly requesting your tutelage. Ma’am.”
Degenbrecher keeps her eyes open, not immediately realizing there’s a piece of hay poking into one of them. She plucks it away, irritated. “Maria.”
She responds fast, her voice high and excitable. “Yes, Miss Black Knight, Degenbrecher, Ma’am…?”
“If you say one more word tonight I will snap your neck. One. More. Word.” She lifts her hand to warn her before she speaks. “Tell me you understand.” She smiles, waiting for her to fall into her trap. Maria says nothing. Instead, Degenbrecher feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns to look at her. Maria smiles and gives her two thumbs up.
Degenbrecher tries to reconcile the grinning fool before her with the bloodied and unyielding woman she first encountered. What a contradiction. She glares and runs a thumb across her own neck. Maria receives her message and returns to her pile of hay some feet away.
It’s almost a pity. She waits for her to say something else but she doesn’t. It would be easy to scare her. She imagines her hand on Maria’s neck, tightening for a second before the pressure eases and her fingertips drift down the slope of her neck. She lingers on the visual before dismissing the thought, but not as quickly as she’d like. Perhaps being away from Kjerag and those people who have adopted some part of her she’s never known, is making it easier to return to her old ways.
She’s mulling it over when her thoughts drift away, sleep taking her.
♞
Maria’s gone when she wakes.
Degenbrecher has only a small bag containing her notebook and book of scriptures. She takes it along with her weapons and exits the barn. The sun is only now peeking over the horizon. She will not bid the family goodbye. It’s early yet and while she usually only tolerates the pointless exercise of social rituals, she sees little purpose in waking a grieving family. She half-expects to see Maria digging another grave but she’s nowhere to be seen. Has she run off then, terrified that she’ll have her neck snapped for prattling the way she does?
Degenbrecher makes her way out of the village, moving past the empty homes. The rain washed away a good deal of the blood but there are places where the damp ground has a rusty hue. What will these people do? Will they stay and hope bandits don’t return or will they move on to another village? There’s no guarantee they would survive that journey. Even if they stay, some catastrophe could arrive. Much of Terra is indifferently dangerous.
She’ll send a report to Rhodes Island and they can decide what help, if any, they want to extend. She’s at the gate when she spots Maria off in the distance. She’s holding the reins of an emaciated white horse.
Degenbrecher goes to her, unsure whether she’s relieved or not that she has stayed behind. “What’s that?” She nods at the horse. “A snack for the road?”
It seems she’s disrupted whatever it was Maria was rearing to say. There’s a hint of irritation on her face before she recovers. “You don’t eat a horse.”
“I do.”
“But why?”
“Have you ever known true hunger?”
“No.”
“You’ll be surprised at what you won’t eat when you’re starving.”
Maria’s stoic, guarding whatever thoughts Degenbrecher’s comment prompted. “In any case, this horse isn’t for eating. The family has gifted it to us along with a few supplies and provisions for our travels.”
It appears the family was awake after all. “‘Our’ travels?” The gall. “I don’t remember agreeing to travel with you.” She looks the horse over, who looks back at her with derision. She doesn’t like the animals. “That horse is more trouble than he’s worth. At best he will make a good meal.”
The horse snorts, stomping restlessly.
“We’re not eating him,” Maria strokes his face before looking back at her. “How else will you train me if we go our separate ways?”
“I never agreed to train you, either.”
“You never refused.”
Cheeky girl. “I refuse.” Degenbrecher starts walking. Maria walks alongside her. “Go away.”
“I know that you train the Tschäggättä,” Maria says not going away. How does she know that? Has she studied her? The horse plods along beside them. “So I know you have the skill to teach me.”
Degenbrecher scoffs. “Is that your attempt to flatter me?”
“It wasn’t but I can try if that’d get you to change your mind.”
Degenbrecher stops and looks at her. “You are too bold, girl.” Maria hardens her jaw, meeting her eyes. This woman represents much of what is rotten about Kazimierz, the kind of person who is prized above anyone else. So much vanity, so much adherence to tradition at the expense of anyone else who isn’t like them. “If you want so desperately to train, why not go to your family?”
“They worry too much. They don’t want me on this path. And—”
Degenbrecher waits.
“I want someone who won’t treat me with kids gloves.”
Degenbrecher snickers. Stupid girl. “All right. I’ll train you on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You survive against me for thirty seconds.” An impossible feat.
Maria draws a slow breath. Degenbrecher waits for excuses or bravado. “All right.”
“You’re an arrogant woman,” Degenbrecher says. “You may come from a family who has produced the greatest knights Kazimierz has known, but you are not them. You are no Radiant Knight. You’re not even the Whislash Knight.” She sees the anger spark in her eyes. “’ Blemishine’. No one knows that name. No one will remember it.”
“You seem to know it.”
How defiant. She chuckles. “Do you think I’m trying to scare you? Or that I’ll hold back?” Maria doesn’t answer. “I have never lost a battle in my life. You must know that you cannot beat me.”
“I don’t have to beat you. I just have to survive the thirty seconds. I’ve survived worse.”
Degenbrecher smiles. “I know what you survived in the Major. The Withered Knight and the Corrupted Knight. Not to mention all those who came before. The difference now? Your sister will not be coming to save you.”
“You haven’t talked this much since we met. It sounds like you’re trying to stall for time.” She lets go of the horse’s reins, giving him a small pat to move off. The horse trots away to the distance before waiting.
Degenbrecher unhooks the sword breakers, taking them into her hands. “I will beat that arrogance out of you.” It had been her mantra in Kazimierz as she rose up the ranks in the championships.
Maria doesn’t answer. She unsheathes her sword, readying her shield.
Degenbrecher starts her count. “Ready?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. She rushes forward, bringing the first sword breaker down hard on her shield. Maria defends against the blow. Degenbrecher waits for a crack to appear in the shield but the shield holds. She swings the second sword breaker, expecting that Maria will try to deflect the blow with her sword, ending this pointless charade, but she sidesteps it instead, creating distance between them.
“Running away?” Degenbrecher twirls the weapon in her hand. “No. I won’t let you escape.” She dashes to her, swinging both weapons at once. They crash into Maria’s shield and the force of it sends her stumbling back. Maria nearly loses her footing before regaining her balance, her face flushed. “Ready to give up?”
“No,” she menaces.
“Do you know why your family won’t train you?” She asks moving forward. She swings over and over again, Maria blocking her every attempt. She’s more impressed with the workmanship of the shield at this point than the girl. She breathes evenly. There is nothing here that will cause her to break a sweat. “They see what I see. A girl too stupid to admit defeat when she can’t win.” She slams the sword breakers down on her shield again and again Maria stops the attack with a pained cry.
The effort of confronting her attacks is taking its toll on Maria. Not many can survive her swings and not many for this long. Truthfully she has not met a shield that could survive her strikes and yet Maria continues to hold to it. Now it trembles. Has Maria lost feeling in her arms already? Does she know how tired she is? Sweat runs down Maria’s face, golden wisps of hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks.
“You want to be a knight but all you do is cower behind that shield. You won’t even raise your weapon to fight.”
Maria grips the hilt of the sword tighter, breathing hard.
“Give up now, Maria, and save yourself the humiliation.”
“No! I won’t!”
“You will never be your sister.”
The taunt doesn’t work and Maria remains, moving as Degenbrecher does, refusing to have her back to her.
“Thirty seconds is all I asked. And yet in less than that you have managed to bore me. Enough of this.” She stalks over to Maria, unleashing a volley of attacks. The sword breakers pound like a drum over her shield. Maria holds on to it even when Degenbrecher hammers down on her as if she were a nail. She pummels her, ignoring Maria’s grunts and pained cries, until she’s on her knees on the ground, holding the shield up to stop her violence.
Degenbrecher reaches down, taking hold of it and yanking it from her, throwing it to the side. It skips over the ground, skidding to a small cloud of dust before coming to a stop. “Now what will you do?” Degenbrecher stops, suddenly feeling very tired. Something hot runs down her leg. She looks down. A bloom of red is spreading over her thigh where Maria has buried the tip of her sword. Degenbrecher looks to Maria who fights for breath, a fist gone white curled on the ground, the other clinging tightly to the hilt of her sword.
“You were right about one thing,” Maria says. “I will never be my sister.” She gets to her feet, using the sword in Degenbrecher’s leg as leverage before flinging a fistful of dirt into her eyes. Degenbrecher swears under her breath, trying to blink the dirt out as Maria yanks the sword out, taking off at a breakneck speed to her shield.
Degenbrecher follows after, moving at a slower pace than she’d like. What has that girl done to her? She thought it was only the Leithaniens who meddled with these sinister Arts. It’s her fault for letting her guard down. To be fair, this is not how a Nearl is meant to behave. Time is running out. Maria has reached her shield but she won’t have the time to strap it to her arm. She does not wish to spend her time training one of them. Degenbrecher hurls the swordbreaker at her. It likely won’t kill her but it’ll be enough to knock her out and allow Degenbrecher to move on her way.
It’s inches from her face when Maria lifts the shield by its sides. It’s just enough to stop the swordbreaker from caving her face in. The force sends her rolling back several feet, the shield knocked loose from her hands in the process. Maria lies on her back, disoriented, fighting for the strength to get up. Degenbrecher weaves over to her trying to shake the wave of sleepiness that has hit her. She stands over her, using the tip of her swordbreaker to lift Maria’s chin and look at her. Maria looks back. Not sad or lost. Defiant.
Degenbrecher swallows, blinking the dirt from her eyes. “You fight dirty. But you survived.”
Maria heaps gulps of air into her lungs. “I made it?”
Degenbrecher sits next to her. “Unfortunately.”
“You’ll train me?”
“I’ll train you.”
“I’m so happy.” Maria laughs, relief washing over her face. “I can’t feel my arms.”
“Enjoy that while you can.” The pain to come will not be pleasant once the adrenaline has worn off. She sees that the horse is starting to make its way back over to them. She hoped it would run away and return to the village. “What did you do to me?”
“I stabbed you. Does it hurt?”
“No,” she answers honestly. “What magic was that?” Maria’s expression tells her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She waves it away. Is she just old?
The horse settles down next to Maria and Maria fumbles with a saddlebag at the horse’s side, pulling out some bandaging. She sits up, fighting back the pain in her expression. “I’ll bandage you up.”
Degenbrecher snatches the items from her. “I can do that myself.” She looks at the wound. It’s deeper than she expected. Pain does not work for her like it does for others. Whatever warning it’s meant to give her never goes off. She wraps it tightly. “I’m still on an operation for Rhodes Island. If you want to be trained you’ll have to accompany me while I accomplish my tasks.”
“I can do that,” she sounds bright and happy, the girl who stabbed her in the leg while her attention was diverted, and threw dirt in her eyes.
“We’ll make the horse into jerky if it comes down to it.”
The horse snorts in response.
“No,” Maria says, struggling to her feet. She nods to the animal. “Get on the horse.”
The horse looks like it’d struggle to carry a child. “Are you trying to kill it?”
“If you won’t let me use my Arts to help you then we have no other choice. I want a teacher who I won’t have to wheel around to train me.”
“You are impudent.” She gets on the horse who resentfully gets to its feet. Perhaps riding it to collapse will convince the girl they can have it as an emergency ration supply. Maria wipes the blood from her blade, sheathing the sword, and slinging the shield over her back before taking the reins.
Degenbrecher looks the instrument over. It doesn’t look as if it has ever seen a day of battle. “That’s a worthy shield.”
“Thanks. It’s a family shield. I made some modifications.”
“If you have such a talent, why not stick to blacksmithing?” Maria doesn’t answer the question and Degenbrecher presumes it isn’t the first time the question has been asked. “Does it surprise you that it survived my blows?”
“Not as much as it surprised you, I think.” She smiles and Degenbrecher scowls, looking off.“Where are we headed?”
She doesn’t know. The map she received was unhelpful and many of the villages she’s meant to investigate aren’t on them. “Why does that concern you? A knight-errant goes where the wind leads her.”
“Are you a knight-errant as well, Lady Degenbrecher? I’m following your lead for the moment.”
‘Lady Degenbrecher’. Ridiculous. “If you’re to be my student, the first rule is that you not ask so many questions.”
“How am I to learn if my teacher won’t satisfy my curiosity?”
“Be quiet.”
“Okay.”
They journey, Maria holding the reins of the horse, perhaps worried that Degenbrecher will attempt to lead it off a cliff otherwise. Her bout of sleepiness is finally wearing off. Degenbrecher studies the young woman. When she isn’t in conversation with her and others her expression is solemn. Could that other face she wears be a mask?
There is no point in thinking about it. Maria will undergo her training and become frustrated by it and leave. Yet, Degenbrecher suspects she is deceiving herself. The woman has already proven to be stubborn to the extreme. Young nobles tend to make life difficult for her and still, she continues to get mixed up with them. Maria steals a look at her, quickly looking away when she sees Degenbrecher looking back at her.
The same sober expression on her face, this time accompanied by a rosy flush to her cheeks.
Interesting.