Vengeance Through Passion

Note: This chapter may contain the use of harsh language. Reader discretion is advised.

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Unagi Water Clan.

The inside of the Unagis' walls was as forbidding as the rumors had suggested. Aricia had imagined the imposing fortress to be teeming with soldiers from all over Athame, but the reality was far harsher than she’d ever anticipated. The air was thick with the acrid stench of sweat and blood, clinging to her senses like an unwelcome guest.

Everywhere she looked, men clad in mismatched armor were engaged in brutal combat, their weapons clanging relentlessly, the metallic sound echoing against the high, impenetrable stone walls. The training grounds were no place for the weak, and the constant yelling of commanders only reinforced that notion.

The soldiers moved with a rough efficiency, their movements sharp and aggressive. These were not polished knights in gleaming armor, but battle-hardened warriors, forged by conflict, their skills honed in the heat of war. Their faces were smeared with dirt and blood, their eyes cold and focused. This was the Field of Arms, a place where Athame's most capable warriors came to train, to prove themselves, and perhaps, to die. The thought sent a shiver down Aricia’s spine, yet she pressed forward, her determination outweighing the unease gnawing at her.

A commotion drew her attention. Near the center of the grounds, a group of soldiers had gathered, their jeers audible even from a distance. Aricia quickened her pace, though she made an effort to remain unobtrusive. As she approached, she saw the scene unfold—a man, hunched over on the ground, cowering as another soldier towered above him, sword in hand.

"On your feet, maggot!" one of the knights bellowed, his voice thick with contempt. The knight was clad in reinforced armor, its metal gleaming under the dull sunlight that filtered through the clouds above. His sword was poised to strike again, its blade slick with the man’s blood.

"I yield! I yield!" the man on the ground pleaded, his voice trembling with a fear that was almost palpable. He was no soldier, that much was clear. His armor was ill-fitting, the breastplate too loose, the helm dented and crooked. His hands were raised in a desperate attempt to shield himself, though it was obvious he was no match for his assailant.

The knight sneered. "You think you can defend your clan? Pathetic," he spat, his sword slashing down one final time. The blade clanged against the man’s armor, the impact sending him sprawling, his body limping on the ground. The knight stepped back, his disdain evident as he turned away.

"Worthless sons of whores!" another soldier shouted from the sidelines, his voice carrying over the din of the training grounds. "You expect to fight for Athame with such disgraceful cowardice? What for do the Imperials take us, eh? A bunch of cowering fools and weaklings? You’ll never make warriors out of this lot! Until fish flies and bitches rule, these monkeys won’t be able to fight if their lives depended!"

Aricia winced at the crudeness of the language, but she kept her head high. She had grown accustomed to such talk over the years, though it never ceased to sting. As she drew nearer, the group of men turned to face her, their eyes narrowing with recognition.

"Oi, look who it is, the crippled lady knight," one of the soldiers called out, his voice laced with mockery. The men around him chuckled, their laughter harsh and unkind. Aricia felt her heart sink, but she forced a smile onto her face, the expression stiff and awkward as she tried to ignore the rising discomfort. The smell of sweat, blood, and metal was almost overwhelming now, thick and suffocating as it mingled with the coarse laughter.

"Impertinent little imps," the soldier continued, his voice rising with every word. "All you lot do is fuck bitches and drink wine, and it shows! No wonder you can’t wield a sword properly. I’m surprised the Imperials haven’t sent us packing already."

"Oof, language, Ser Thanorin," another knight interjected, stepping forward with a smirk playing at his lips. His armor was more polished than the others', his movements measured and deliberate, as if he found the entire situation amusing. His dark hair was tied back, and a thin scar ran across his cheek, adding a dangerous edge to his otherwise composed demeanor. "We don’t want to scare off our little friend now, do we?"

The knight’s gaze flicked toward Aricia, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he took her in. His presence was intimidating, though not in the way the others were. His calm, almost casual cruelty made her skin crawl.

He crouched down beside the man still crumpled on the ground, lifting the defeated soldier’s head with a casual flick of his wrist. The man barely moved, his eyes glazed over in exhaustion and pain. The knight slapped him gently across the face, the sound sharp in the stillness that had settled over the group.

"Useless," the knight muttered under his breath before spitting on the man’s face. With a sneer, he pulled a piece of cloth from his belt and wiped his hand clean, his movements slow and deliberate as if to ensure everyone was watching. When he was done, he tossed the cloth carelessly onto the soldier’s chest. "Get this bloody urchin out of the walls," he ordered, not even bothering to look up as he gave the command.

"Yes, Ser Hadrion!" one of the nearby soldiers barked, immediately rushing forward to grab the man by the arm and drag him away, his body limp and unresisting.

Ser Hadrion stood and turned his attention fully to Aricia now, his lips curling into a smirk as he approached her. His eyes roamed over her figure, lingering a little too long for her comfort. Aricia straightened her back, willing herself not to flinch under his gaze.

"And what brings you to our humble abode, dear lad?" Hadrion asked, his voice dripping with false courtesy.

"It’s lady," Aricia corrected, her voice firm despite the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

"Oh, but ladies aren’t meant to be within these walls, you see." Hadrion’s smirk widened as he walked around her, his eyes still fixed on her as though she were some strange curiosity. The other men were watching too, their expressions a mixture of amusement and disdain. She could feel their eyes on her, judging, mocking. "And yet here you are."

Aricia felt her cheeks burn, but she refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on. "I came with a letter from the Academy," she replied, holding out the folded parchment in her hand.

"Academy?" Hadrion scoffed, not even bothering to take the letter. He waved a hand dismissively, his expression turning sour. "Darling, this is called the Field of Arms, but yours don’t seem capable enough to wield a sword. What do you hope to achieve here, hmm?"

His words hit harder than she cared to admit, and she could hear the snickers from the men behind her, their laughter like nails scraping against her pride. But Aricia held her ground, her fingers tightening around the letter.

***

Aricia’s grip tighten around the hilt of her sword as she glared at Ser Hadrion. His dismissive smirk ignited a fire in her chest, the insult still fresh on her mind. She had trained for this, and she wasn't about to let him belittle her so easily. Without another word, she drew her blade from its sheath with a sharp hiss, the steel gleaming in the midday light.

Hadrion’s eyes flashed with amusement as he watched her, his stance relaxed, almost bored. "So, you wish to dance?" he said, mocking her with an exaggerated bow. "Very well, Lady Knight. Let us see if your Academy has taught you anything useful."

Aricia didn’t waste any time. She lunged at him, her blade slicing through the air with precision. She aimed for his midsection, hoping to catch him off guard, but Hadrion was faster than she expected. He sidestepped her strike with effortless grace, the smirk never leaving his face. Before she could recover, he retaliated with a quick flick of his wrist, his sword meeting hers with a resounding;

Clang.

Their swords locked for a brief moment, the force of his blow pushing her back a step. Aricia gritted her teeth, trying to hold her ground, but Hadrion was stronger. His sword twisted, breaking the lock, and he spun around her, his blade whistling through the air. Aricia barely managed to parry the next strike, the force of it reverberating up her arm.

"Too slow," Hadrion taunted, his voice cold and mocking. He moved like a predator, his steps calculated and deliberate, while Aricia struggled to keep up. She tried to find an opening, but Hadrion gave her none. Each strike of his sword was precise, pushing her further and further back.

Aricia swung again, aiming for his shoulder this time, but Hadrion deflected the blow with ease. He countered with a sharp jab toward her ribs. She twisted to avoid the worst of it, but his blade still grazed her side, the sting of it sharp against her skin. She stumbled, pain flaring as she fought to regain her footing.

"Your legs hurt no?" Hadrion teased, circling her like a wolf toying with its prey.

Aricia’s breath came in ragged gasps, her arm growing heavy with the weight of her sword. But she wasn’t ready to give up. She raised her blade again and charged forward, hoping to surprise him with a feint. She slashed high, then quickly shifted her grip to thrust low.

But Hadrion saw through the move. His sword came up swiftly, blocking her strike before slamming into her guard. The impact sent her sword flying from her grasp, clattering onto the stone floor with a dull echo. Aricia’s heart sank as Hadrion’s blade found its way to her throat, the cold metal pressing lightly against her skin.

He stood over her, victorious, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Lest I say, Lady Knight, it's the Field of Arms not not of Harlots." He pulled his sword away, the smirk on his face deeper now. "Away with you."

She blinked disoriented as she found her footing once more.

She had failed yet again, but this time, disappointment did not weigh her down. Her failure was insignificant in the grander scheme of things. She had come to this filthy place for two reasons. The first was to join the Academy, an aspiration she would not abandon. The second, and far more important, was to rescue her mother.

She’d be damned if she left these walls without her mother.