Project Empress 017

 [Chapter 4 finished]

Cara helped Walter and Natalie to move the two men, who were slowly coming back to their senses, out of the bar. They were able to walk again by now, both had a certain spark in their eyes that made Natalie bare her teeth in anticipation. The alleged smile soon turned into something more disappointed when the two men just sat down around the still unconscious blond man, glowering fiercely but not moving. 

“Oh come on, two big men, strong like you, are you really just going to sit there and just wait for the church militia to arrive?”

“Yeah,” one of them said. “Then they will see that your old friend over there assaulted us when we were here on official academy business”, he tried a smile, not to much of one. Natalie looked twitchy like a sprinter milliseconds before the race was started.

Cara was slowly moving herself into a position that she could intervene from if her master decided to attack. It would look really bad if the church forces arrived and they gave them double beaten bullies. More than anything else, it was morally wrong to attack an enemy that was already beaten. Goading them into another match they had already lost was just mean. 

“Official academy business?”, Walter asked, leaning against the door frame of the bar’s entrance. “You damaged my front door and then assaulted me with some flimsy excuse of some academy.”

“We have the paperwork. We were just talking. And then you attacked us”, the guy said, now allowing himself a bloodied grin.

“I warned you thrice and I invoked the principle of sanctum sanctorum.”

“Yeah, that’s what you say grandpa, but that would be you word against ours.”

“Heh”, Walter snorted. “Show me that paper again…”

Both thugs looked around them, the paper had fallen from the hand of the blond man’s hands when he had been struck down. 

“Oops…”, Walter said, his expression was perfectly neutral but his aura was smiling thinly. “And you just told me this incredible lie to my face, with witnesses. Also you are here on academy business? Funny as none of you are part of the academy.”

“We…? We were hired as body guards by…”, he turned to the blond man.

“Who also isn’t in the academy”, Walter said. “My friend here is from the illustrious  High Academy of Historical Fencing Arts Monasteria”, he turned to Cara. “When was the last training you attended?”

“Two days ago”, Cara said.

“And have you seen any of these people there?”

“No.”

Walter lifted an eyebrow. The thugs, eyes wide, fell silent. 

Only moments later an armoured transporter in the white and gold of the church militia came silently rolling down the street, bathed in the blue pulsing halo produced by its light strips, showing that it was there on official peace keeping duty.

The transporter stopped in front of Bacchus’ Barrel. Two armoured officers got out of the wagon. A lithe wirey woman and a large bull like man, both looked tried.

“Hey Walter”, the woman said. 

“Hello Christine. Hey Frank”, the large officer grunted a greeting to Walter. “Long night?”

“Yeah long and full of bullshit. I swear to the Lord, whose mercy shines on us all, that if I get another bunch of drunk arseholes tonight, that he may bestow upon me the patience of all the saints, for I feel the wicked temptation of the mortal sin of wrath.”

The two thugs on the floor somehow manged to shift into an even more colourless white.

“No drunks”, Walter said. “Just a group of criminals, damaging my property,” Walter motioned towards his door. Frank clicked his tongue in disapproval, slowly shaking his head. “Who pretended to be on official business of the High Academy of Historical Fencing.”

“Did they say that indeed?”, Christine said, looking the three over.

“Yes, they said I was hiding, on a day my bar is obviously closed”, he gestured towards the dark bar, “that I was hiding a Proditor Perfidissimus.”

“Huh?”, Frank asked.

“You three”, Christine said, “knocked on this man’s door and asked him to look through his rooms looking for a Proditor Perfidissimus?”

“Yes ma’am”, said the other guy who up until now hadn’t said anything.

“You accused the war hero, high instructor and grand master Walter Balogh Rayne of harbouring a Proditor Perfidissimus inside the walls of his house? And you did so in the name of the High Academy of Historical Fencing”, Christine clasped her hands together as she mouthed a short prayer. “May the saints of mercy and the Virgin Mary move the heart of the  judicial vicar I am going to wake up the moment I have brought you to your holding cell. Pray, my stray brothers, for you tonight you will only find salvation in the Lord”, she nodded at Frank, who one by one lifted the men from the pavement and threw them into the back of the transporter.

Christine turned back to Walter. “I am so sorry this happened and to you of all people…”

“It’s OK”, Walter said. “I had everything under control.”

“Still, that things like this happen in our beautiful city”, she crossed herself. “We live in the strangest of times.”

“At least it wasn’t drunks.”, Walter said smiling. 

“That at the very least is true and we are delivered of a night of boring duty.”

“Glad to be of service”, Walter said.

Christine snorted. 

“And say hi to Monica for me.”

“Will do, good night, Walter., Madams”, she nodded to Cara and Natalie. Frank nodded goodbye to them. Moments later, the wagon had disappeared as silently as it had arrived.

Walter turned to Cara and Natalie. “This will buy you a bit of time. A few hours at worst. Nat, did you secure passage on a ship?”

“Yep. The ship will leave in about two hours when it’s done loading. They want to enter the wild lands during daylight and reach the territory of the Confederated Cities before it gets dark.”

“Perfect.”, Walter said. “That gives you enough time to get Cara’s things and go to the harbour without raising any suspicion.”

“I’ll escort Cara. Will you prepare the last rites?”, Natalie said.

“Sure will do”, Walter nodded.

“Let’s go Cara, the clock is ticking.”

As they walked back to her home Cara asked, “What are the ‘last rites’?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“They sound scary”, Cara mumbled.

“They are more of awe inspiring and ridiculous.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“You’ll see.”

Back in Cara’s home she had already prepared all her things. She had the large transport backpack with her sword and equipment. She had packed two suitcases with her clothes, a few books and a few other things she thought she would need on her voyage. 

“Mind if I have a look around your flat and the things you packed?”, Natalie said.

“Er… no? Go ahead.”

Natalie went directly to her equipment bag and got rid of most of her protective gear. “This is just bulk and we won’t need it at first. We’ll get you knew and better gear when it’s time for it and when we aren’t running away from the church’s army… and your academy.”

Natalie looked up at Cara. “What did you even do? I thought you had told your master about our arrangement?”

“I did!”, Cara said, tears now pooling in her eyes. “He didn’t mind. He just waved me away. I asked. I really did.”

“Oh… on no, Cara”, Natalie rushed to Cara, giving her a big hug and holding her. “It’s OK, Cara. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s probably just a misunderstanding. Walter will look into it. We still have the support of the Lord-bishop.” Cara sobbed silently, her hand gripping Natalie’s coat tightly. 

“No matter what happens”, Natalie said, “I will take care of you, OK? We will clear your name. We will win that tournament. When we come back here to Monasteria in a few months, will come back as heroes, you hear me?”

Cara, still crying, nodded. They stood like that for quite a while. Natalie never let go of Cara, very gently turning around with her so she could have a look at a clock. Natalie would worry about the time so Cara didn’t.

Five minutes later Cara let go of Natalie, she sniffled wiping away the last tears from her face. “It’s all a bit much”, Cara said.

“It certainly is”, Natalie agreed.

Cara looked at the pile of protective gear on the floor. “At least that solves one of my problems.”

“Which one?”, Natalie asked.

Cara walked to a pile of shreds of fabric that stood looked quite out of place in Cara’s flat. She started to stuff them into her equipment bag. 

“What exactly is that?”, Natalie asked. She chose her words very carefully.

“That is Miss Snuggles.”

“?”, Natalie said.

“Miss Snuggles is my special blanket. She has been with me for as long as I remember. The blond shithead cut her to ribbons when he attacked me.”

 She then went to her bed and took a small very old bunny plushy.

“And who is that?”, Natalie asked.

“That is Fiore the bunny”, Cara said.

“We need all the help we can get.”

“Are you making fun of me?”, Cara looked at Natalie with red eyes.

“No”, Natalie smiled a surprisingly warm and open smile. “I have Miri-chan.”

“Who is that?”, Cara asked.

“My plushy, its a little cat.”

Cara laughed. Natalie joined her. Moments later the atmosphere in the room was much lighter again. 

“I’m going to have a look in the kitchen. Gone make sure that you won’t have to fight what ever was in your fridge when we return. And look if there isn’t something that we can take with us. Either as rations or to barter.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Nah, you my friend need to take care of your make-up.”, Natalie said.

Less then half an hour later, Cara and Natalie were back on the street again.

“One last thing and we can leave this city behind us.”, Natalie said, she was carrying both of Cara’s suitcases, moving at a impressive clip. It took Cara some effort to keep up with her.

“The last rites?”, Cara asked.

“The last rites”, Natalie said.

They returned to Bacchus’ Barrel. Cara was extremely nervous because here they were back at the scene of the crime. Even if it hadn’t been her crime. But instead of church militia there was just silence and darkness.

This time Natalie rang the bell. Walter’s joy was measurable.

“We don’t have much time”, he said. “Leave your stuff here in the bar. I will call you a coach, I know someone we can trust. You go up to the garden.”

Upstairs, in the middle of the green, stood a large roughly humanoid figure mode from cardboard boxes. 

“What’s that?” Cara said.

“Walk around it and you’ll see”, Natalie said.

Cara did, the cardboard scarecrow had something written in big black letters on it’s chest. “CARA GIBSON MÜLLER” it said.

“Is that me?”, Cara asked.

“In a way”, Walter said, he had just arrived at the entrance. He walked over to them, a large round wine bottle in one hand. He opened it and poured a clear liquid over the cardboard Cara, it smelled of concentrated alcohol. 

“Nat”, he said.

Natalie took a lighter out of her pocket and lit the effigy on fire.

“Hey!”, Cara shouted. “Why are you setting me on fire?”

Walter looked at Natalie.

“This isn’t you”, Natalie said.

“It has my name on it…”, Cara pouted.

“This is your fear. This is your panic, These are all the things inside you that hold you back, that weigh you down.” 

“Uh-huh…”, Cara said still not sure what to think of all of this. The fire had now engulfed all of the cardboard figure. Natalie stepped towards her, carefully unsheathing her sharp sword, presenting it grip first to Cara.

“Take the sword. Confront your own weakness, all the things that live within you only to get in your way. This is your first real enemy, take the sword and destroy it.”

Cara took the sword from Natalie’s hand, a beautiful weapon, with a point of balance that gravitated towards the enemy, a weapon that wanted to smite who ever stood against it. She weighed it for a short moment, getting a feel for the weapon, then stabbed the burning Cara-thing in front of her. It was just an empty shell, weak, timid, afraid. Someone who when confronted with her dreams would shy away from them, their light so bright as to startle her away. 

Cara lifted her sword, this thing before her wasn’t her. With a clean step forward and a slash down she destroyed this weak thing, leaving behind only Cara, blade shining in the trails of fire her attack had left.

Project Empress 016

(Chapter 4 continued) 

After they had finished their meal, Cara started to explore the functions of her new book. Slow and deliberate at first, she was in awe of the artefact. So it was all slow movements and pointy fingers. Walter laughed when he saw that while he was cleaning the table.

“That one is made to be taken into the field, go ahead, have a proper look”, he said. 

Cara tried to smile. The smile died a hero’s death. She kept exploring the new device though and as she did, her professional curiosity started to take over. The e-ink display was one of the best she had ever seen, almost the size of a regular magazine. It was actually four displays joined together on one side, allowing the writer to turn over the pages while reading or writing. The next page was always updated to the next or to a new page. When writing, it sent the information into the internal storage. The colour display in the book cover was touch sensitive. There was a wide variety of connectors hidden under well isolated covers. It even had several cables that integrated into the body of the book, that she could pull out to get power or transfer date. They automatically reeled themselves back in. She might have squealed out loud when she discovered that. 

Somehow a glass of read-wine had appeared next to her and Walter was sitting at the table again, reading the paper. 

“Sorry, I’m being silly”, Cara said.

Walter looked up from his paper, “Silly?”

“I just love technology”, she said.

“I did notice”, Walter said, “It´s actually nice to see a gift have such an effect.”

“But having someone get this exited over technology…”

Walter just looked at her, blinked and said, “If you are trying to go somewhere with that train of thought, I’m not sure I can follow you…”

“Well you are old…”

“Hey!”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you!”, Cara said, flushing red again and waving her hands in front of her. “I mean, like, you remember the golden age.”

“The golden age?”, Walter was more confused now.

“Yes the time before, the time of the Union.”

“Ah…”, Walter said leaning back in his chair again, exhaling slowly. “The ‘Union’… Well I don’t remember that much of it. I was still a kid when it still existed and what I remember was all manner of things, many of them unpleasant. And if there ever was a golden age, it was certainly not back then.”

“It wasn’t? But it was the time of the great European Union. The one world power that had come together united by their ideals of a peaceful world, built on the principles of cooperation and mutual benefit…” Cara wanted to say more but Walter interrupted her.

“It failed, Cara.” As he said this, a deep tiredness washed over him. “The Union failed.”

“Do you know why?”, Cara asked.

Walter shrugged. “Not really. My parents told me that it had always been a bumpy road, where the members couldn’t stop themselves from putting every stone imaginable in their own path of progress. But back then I really didn’t care about all that. By the time I was old enough to do so, the world was already burning and most member states were slowly destroyed from the inside by people who thought that they’d be stronger alone. That we had to fear the foreign. That everyone who wasn’t ‘us’ would destroy us… I never got that… who exactly was supposed to be “us”, how small did you have to go to find your own? Your state? Your local region? Your city?”, Walter took his glass of wine, looked at the liquid but couldn’t quite bring himself to drink it. He kept the glass in his hand, sniffing the aroma, almost as if that was as far as he was allowed to enjoy the wine. “What these people all had in common was that they dreamt of a mythical golden age, a past where everything was right and good. “

“When was that?”, Cara asked, trying to remember the golden ages of Europe but having trouble remembering any.

“Never”, Walter said, “If you ask me, there are no golden ages. There are just different times, some better than others. But no perfect ones. Yet there are these people who dream of this mythical ages were all was right. They get obsessed with it and will do everything to push everything back to that great age and for that, all they need to do is destroy everything that is ‘wrong’, which is pretty much everything and everyone that doesn’t agree with them.”

“So these people destroyed the Union?”

Walter looked up from his wine, he smiled faintly. “The ‘Union’ was the seedbed in which they grew. People don’t develop in a vacuum… In the end the Union probably killed itself…”

They both were silent for a while. Walter couldn't bring himself to have sip of wine, Cara was mostly confused.

“Does this mean,” Cara said, “that master Natalie is also one of these people?”

Walter looked at her confused, the spell of his wine broken for a moment. “On of what people?”

“The ones who dream of a mythical golden age?”

“Oh no”, Walter said, shaking his head, “no. These people dreamt of a past that never was. Nat looks at the past and at the promise it carried, but she dreams of the future.”

“Which reminds me”, Walter said, having a quick look at his watch, “where is she anyway?”

Which was the moment they heard some heavy bagging on the front door of the bar. 

“Speak of the devil”, he said, standing up; he was smiling, but as the bagging continued his smile flipped upside down. “God dammit Nat, I’m pretty sure I also showed you how to ring the fucking bell”, he stomped out of the flat, Cara following several steps behind him as it took her some time to decide whether to take the book with her or leave it on the table. In the end she decided to leave it for now, hurrying after Walter.

As she arrived at the bottom of the stairs she could hear Walter shout. 

“OK. OK. I’m opening the door already and Gods help you if you damaged it, Nat!”

Cara entered the bar and saw Walter open the door. 

“Who the fuck are you?”, said Walter.

Cara couldn’t really see past Walter, but there seemed to be at least two large guys standing in front of him. 

“Look old man, we don’t want any trouble.”, a voice said that Cara couldn’t quite place but which sounded vaguely familiar.

“Too late…”, Walter said.

“We have no business with you. We are just following a lead.”

“Huh… a lead…? You are not the church militia, are you cosplay detectives?”

“As I said, we have no dealings with you. We are not the church militia, but,” there was the rustling of paper, “but we are here on official business. As you can see me and my helpers represent the High Academy of Historical Fencing Arts Monasteria, which works under the patronage of Lord-bishop Waltharius of Monasteria.”

“I’m very sorry”, Walter said.

“I beg your pardon”, the voice said.

“Never mind”, Walter said, “and consider this the first of three warnings. You better come to the point and explain yourself or I will call the militia, or if you should cause any more trouble”, his eyes wandering to his mistreated door, “or damage to my property I will take care of you myself as per the church’s doctrine of sanctum sanctorum.”

There was a sigh. “As I said, we are not here for you. But we are looking for Cara Gibson Müller.”

“Never heard of her”, as Walter said this his stance shifted slightly. Behind his back he gestured to Cara to hide. Care moved back into the stairwell, closing the door leaving only a crack open to peek through it.

“We know that she frequents this establishment.”

“She obviously is not a regular and I also don’t ask my patrons for their names. So if you are done you can piss right off.”

“We are here on official academy business. Cara has been declared Proditor Perfidissimus by the academy.” 

Cara blanched. A traitor to the school? How? Why? 

“Lovely”, Walter said. “This has still nothing to do with my bar. So piss off and go look for your friend somewhere else.”

“She is not our friend”, the voice said. “Just let us have a look around the bar. This is a public establishment. Maybe she is hiding here or in the toilet. We´ll just have a quick look, grab her and we are out of your hair.”

“This is your second warning”, Walter said, his voice turning cold. “The bar is closed, I have the right of the owner and you are not going to step in here. You are not welcome and you have been warned.”

Another sigh. “Go on boys, help the old man have a seat.”

“And this is you last warning”, Walter said stepping back a few steps. “If you move even one millimetre over my threshold I will crush you.”

Cara had not turned away for even a second, the shock of what she’d just heard had rooted her to the spot, she also refused to have Walter fight these intruders alone. She was already working out a plan of how to sneak inside, where to rush, which chair to take and help him, when a large burly man fell crashing into said chair. Walter stood at the door now with a defence stick in his hand. The other man was rushing forward his defence stick, longer than regulation allowed and illegally banded with metal, descending towards Walter’s head. 

Walter blocked the attack with his new stick, his weapon sliding under the one of his attacker, hooking the lower part of it on the wrist of his attacker, pulling him down and forward. The attacker lost his balance and as he fell Walter punched him with his free hand in the solar plexus sending him flying over a table. 

“You can’t do that!”, the somewhat familiar voice screamed. 

Now Walter moved outside and as he did, Cara finally saw the third man, a blond man with a bandaged nose. The arsehole bully!

“Do you know who I am? My name is…”, he didn’t get any further because this was the moment when Walter had punched the stick into his stomach. As he doubled over, Walter punched him in the back of the head. The nameless arsehole crumpled to the floor.

“Walter!”, an accusing voice rang from the street. It was Natalie. “You started a party without me? How could you?”

“You’re late”, Walter said, “But you can help me with bringing out the trash.”

“But I wanted to have some fun…”

“Now”, Walter said, his voice carrying the message, that this wasn’t the time for jokes.

“Alright”, Natalie said. “How bad is it?”

“Not sure. But not good. Did you find a ship?”

“Aye.”

“Good, you and Cara need to leave the city as soon as possible.”

Project Empress 015

(Chapter 4 continued)

 “It’s time to take a break”, Walter said. 

“Just a little bit longer”, Cara said, trying out a new variation of Closed Fist to Wide Open Wing, back to a Closed Fist move. It almost worked but wasn’t quite there.

“Go with your flow until you find the end of your move. But time is running away.”

“OK”, Cara said, only slowly becoming aware of her surroundings again. She had no idea how late it was but the stars above were shining and a waxing moon as standing proudly in the sky. “What time is it anyway?”, Cara asked. 

“High time for dinner”, Walter said.

It took Cara a while to wind down. Whenever she thought that she had a move nailed down she discovered many new variations, tiny details that changed their dynamic and flow. What brought her completely back to the damp cold of the night was master Walter’s face.

“Am I doing something wrong?”, she asked him.

Walter, who had been looking through her, refocused his gaze on her, his eyes clear again, however his brow remained knitted, his head hanging slightly.

“You don’t look happy”, Cara said, the heat crawling up her cheeks again.  “If I moved wrong you should have just told me. It’s OK. I have no talent, I know that. So you can just tell me and I will do my best to improve.” Now her head also sank a bit, “even if it takes me a long time.” She raised her head again, looking Walter straight in the eyes. “But I’ll get there eventually.”

The furrows in Walter’s face just grew deeper, but a small smile started to grow in that harsh soil. A reaction that confused Cara even more. 

“Even if it takes me all the years. I’ll get there”, Cara said. Her heart was now thumping loudly in her chest. She wanted to show her dedication, without appearing like she didn’t know her station though.

“Cara”, Walter said, his voice warm, deeply coloured by his smile. “You are a great student. And never mention the ‘t’ word in my presence.”

“T-word?”

“’Talent’, it’s mostly bullshit,” before Cara could protest, he raised a hand to stop her, “and where it isn’t, it´s at a level were it doesn’t matter that much anymore; at least not for us mere mortals. Understanding. That’s important. Work. That’s important. The joy of moving with your sword. The rush you feel when a technique clicks. The first time you are in a combat situation and you realise what is happening around you. The love for the art. That. That is important, that is what will make you great. That is the path.”

Cara just blinked. 

“You do understand what I show you, you work with it…”, his smile turned and slowly grew throughout his face, reaching his eyes, smoothing his brow. “Watching you discover your way along the path is a joy.”

“But…”, Cara said, it took her significant amounts of courage to keep talking. “You looked sad…”, she looked at her feet. 

Walter laughed softly. 

“I am a bit sad. We are running out of time and there is so much more that I would like to teach you. One day is not nearly enough…” His smile faded a bit but never quite left his face. “Also, this is not my job, it’s Nat´s. She’s earned this.” Walter pressed his lips together, leading to a slightly more aggressive kind of smile. “It’s also high time that she finally does this.” His expression relaxed again. “Still, I wish we’d have more time, a few days perhaps. But come, it’s time for dinner.”

A little while later they were downstairs again, another large bowl of stew in front of Cara. As Cara was eating, her mind still flashing back to the moves she had discovered today, coming up with new ways of how to move, Walter put an e-book next to her bowl. 

“Here, take this with you”, Walter said. 

“What is that?”, Cara asked.

“A library. It’s nothing special, but in there you will find the main sources of the Liechtenauer School, some of the better commentaries and interpretations, but most importantly if contains Roland Wessex Goldman’s “Principles of Martial Animus”. I don’t agree with all Wessex Goldman says and for my taste his view on the topic is still too mechanical. But it will help you understand Animus better.”

“I can’t accept this”, Cara said. Marvelling at the device in front of her, it had obviously been hacked and heavily modified. It had been broken open, the large display detachable so that it was easy to hold while most of the internals had been put in a bulky base station holding a large battery and a fold out solar foil. It was covered in leather, the corners were reinforced with leather too, with a large front cover to protect the sensitive skin. As she opened it, she discovered a simple screen inside the cover, as well as a fold out mechanical keyboard. 

“I certainly can’t accept this”, she said.

“Well I’m glad that it’s not your choice then.”

“This is artefact grade. Heavily modified and…”

“Cara.”

“Yes?”

“This is my book, I know what it is and can do.”

“Er…”

“Look”, he said, “I want you to have this because you will need help with developing your Animus. I know Nat, her’s is strong and fierce, but she has a very…”, he hesitated looking for words, “… a very instinctive and impulsive approach to it.” That didn’t sound like a compliment. “I don’t think that approach will work for you.” He paused. “Maybe it does… But… I can’t risk it. Have you ever been outside Monasteria?”

“The city or the region?”

“The region.”

“No.”

“It’s dangerous out there. We live in one of the church’s pet-projects and the city is well protected. But as you travel you will travel through places that aren’t or which will see you as a threat or even worse, as prey.” Walter put the screen back into its housing, closed the 

e-book again and secured it.  “You will need all the help you can get. If it is offered to you, take it. If you find it lying by the wayside, take it. If you have to wrench it from the cold dead hands of the past. Take it.” Walter’s hand was pressed hard enough against the book that it hardly moved when he shoved it closer to Cara. Cara, not knowing what else to do, ate another spoon full of her stew, not daring to take her eyes off Walter. She didn’t spill much.

Walter sighed, didn’t relax much, but took a step back. “In the end you are becoming a martial artist and this will contain you also becoming a warrior. You will need to grow, learn and adapt as you go, often under worst circumstances possible. That is also the Path. Write down what you learn. Put it there in your own words.” Walter nodded, more to himself than to Cara, “That’s how you earn that book, how you ‘pay’ for it. Write about your art, about your growth, about your path. Doing that, you’ll make that yours.”

The polite part of Cara wanted to decline. The part of Cara who dreamed of swords and adventure saw it as a great treasure.

“I will”, Cara said.