Project Empress 019

 [Chapter 5 continued]

Not long after, Cara and Natalie found themselves in a cabin with one large reinforced window with view of the channel and its other side, that was also lit in warm amber light. The cabin itself smelled of hardwood and fresh laundry. In front of the window was a large wooden desk. Cara noticed that it was connected to the outer wall with four heavy metal hinges. She suspected that the table could be pushed up to barricade the window in case of an emergency. Thick cables connected the two corners of the room. To their right was a narrow door leading to a toilet and another leading to a small shower which was made out of cast plastic. Whatever it was that Wolfram and Erika were doing, it obviously paid well. Next to the bathroom were more doors, wooden this time. A quick look behind them confirmed her suspicion: behind them was a wardrobe. What she found behind the third door was a bit of a surprise though. A full length mirror on the door itself but the really surprising thing was the electric kettle, the water tank, as well as a collection of tea and coffee making paraphernalia.

There was a couch to their left with more than enough space for two people to lounge, as well as a matching coffee table kept in space by chains which connected it to floor and ceiling. All in all it was a small room that refused to be confined by its dimensions.

“This looks really nice and I love the kettle”, Cara said, “but where are we supposed to sleep?”

Natalie didn’t say anything. She just walked to the couch and pulled it out, so that it touched the table. With a clank, a panel in the wall next to Natalie opened and a lever fell out of it. As Natalie began to pull repeatedly on the lever, the table began to move up towards the ceiling, while the back rest of the couch started to move up, at the same time starting to extend into the room. A bit later, the couch and table were replaced by a bunk bed. 

“And the best thing is this”, Natalie said, pushing the lever back in and pulling on something that Cara couldn’t quite see, but with a clinking noise, the table slowly returned back down while the bunk bed transformed into a couch again.

“Magic”, Cara said, eyes wide.

“Even better”, Natalie said, “technology.”

“Magical technology?”, Cara said.

“Fair enough”, Natalie shrugged and started putting her stuff into the wardrobe. “Put your stuff in here too. But not your weapons, they belong in the rack over there”, Natalie gestured with her thumb towards the door. There were several adjustable brackets to place swords, staves and all other manner of the weapons. 

“I would suggest to hit the sheets as early as possible. If we are lucky we’ll have maybe 6 hours of sleep ahead of us. By then we will have reached the last portal in Ludinchusen; once there is enough daylight we will rush through the Purgatory Gap. Once we reach the Datlem crossroads, we are safe and can take a victory nap.” 

“Victory nap, I’ll hurry up and get some training sleep done before then”, Cara said.

She put her stuff away. Hung her sword and defence stick on the door. She went to the bathroom, which, while incredibly tiny, was actually very well lit. She removed her make-up, then washed her face. The soap smelled of citrus and orange, the water was just the right kind of hot. When she straightened back up, she saw herself in the mirror. 

“That is a very good nap face”, she told her mirror image.

When she returned to their room, Natalie was already snuggled under her duvet, snoring softly. For a second Cara’s heart skipped a beat. She got the top bunk! Life couldn’t have been better.

A few minutes later, she was already drifting into the world of dreams where she was back in Walter’s garden, working on her moves and flow.

Cara was drifting through a comfortable darkness where there were no thoughts, no feelings, just warmth, when a blandly melodious marimba sound caught her attention. While the last note of the sound that had entered the cocoon shielding her consciousness was still reverberating, a mellifluous female voice added:

“Good morning passengers, this is Co-Captain Erika Hartmann Serafini speaking”, ‘Erika?’, Cara thought. That voice sounded nothing like she remembered it to sound… “This is your first and only warning”, the voice continued, “before the weak-up horns are sounded.” A brief pause. “You have been warned”, the announcement ended in a benevolent smile.

By now Cara was mostly back in reality, safely rolled into her big fluffy blanket that smelled like a warm spring morning. Her face sunken into a big soft pillow, only her nose and mouth looking out of it, the only point of contact to the cold early morning air. Not as good as the darkness from which she had come, but a close second. 

Her brain, having finished most of the necessary preflight checks, had now time to start wondering about the the warning they had received.

She felt the ‘wake-up horns’ before she heard them. Her entire body, the bed and the ship around her began to vibrate, followed by a deep mournful roar which shook her bones, her inner organs and probably her soul too. The roar emerged slowly from the depths of infra-sound making itself known to all the world.

Underneath her she could hear increasingly load protests coming from Natalie, her shouts, however, were caught in the currents of the roar and drowned.

As Cara’s eardrums started to tickle the sound suddenly stopped. 

Again the Marimba sounds. 

“Good morning”, a deeply satisfied male voice this time, “this is your other co-captain Wolfram Hartmann Serafini speaking. This has been your wake-up call. All hands, including our esteemed guests, the Ladies Natalie Laukkanen Lapointe and Cara Gibson Müller, on the bridge in 30 minutes.”

Cara moved towards the edge of her bunk and looked down, asking the bundle of duvets and pillows, under which she suspected her master to be: “Do you want to go shower first?”

“Mblll… brgllbrrrb… murgh… blllrmb…”, came the reply from inside the pile in the lower bunk. 

Cara thought about what she had heard for a moment. Not quite sure if she had interpreted what she had heard correctly, she tried: “So… I’m going to shower first…?”

“Grrb mpflll…”, the pile answered.

That was good enough for Cara. She threw her duvet back. Instantly regretted her choice as it was really cold outside. But now there was only one way to escape: forward.

She grabbed hold of the edge of the bed and flipped over the edge in an elegant arc.

That was the plan at least.

When she was six she could do that, no problem.

Her body reminded her of little details like, not being six for a long time now. And how it expected training, to see which movements should be kept and which shouldn’t. Also “OW!”, said Cara, first when her arms protested against the way they were being treated. Then from her feet as they scraped against the low ceiling. There was a short moment of clarity when the adrenaline kicked her body into high gear as she started her free fall. Punctuated in the end when she crashed into the floor below. Her duvet dripping over the edge of the bed laying itself over her, hiding her shame from the world. 

“Gnnnr brrr ng-heh?”, the pile asked.

“I’m good”, Cara said. Noticing that, indeed, she was. She had expected worse. Still hurt though. But that was something she had to add to her mental training list…

“Mmmmmrb…”, the pile said, a hand worming its way out of it showing a thumbs up, then quickly retreating from the cold.

Cara got up, opened her side of the wardrobe, got some fresh clothes out. She selected some functional underwear, unearthed her light weight protective gear that she could wear under her normal clothes and put that on the table. She then went digging for her make-up kit and with that and her underwear she went to the tiny shower room. A quick look told her that there wasn’t much space for her clothes, so as she undressed she threw her old clothes out. Hung the underwear on the hooks that were located high on the door and took a quick shower. The quick shower took her a bit longer than expected. The water came with a good pressure and could be set to a heat that was close to divine. For a moment she forgot about time. Then she suddenly panicked when she noticed that she had forgotten the existence of the universe. When she was done, she dried herself, solved the puzzle of getting into her clothes in a very tight space, followed by a quick look outside. Still no sign of Natalie. Just a pile furiously denying the existence of time. Good. She checked her clock. 10 minutes gone for the shower. She had to be quick, but would not leave her cabin without a proper face… Today she needed something more resolute. Eye shadow and lip-stick would have to wait, she could do that on the bridge while listening to the briefing. She hoped. 

She was done in a little over 5 minutes. When she got out, Natalie was still nowhere to be seen. 

“Master Natalie!”

“What..?”

It could speak. Good. 

“We have to be on the bridge in 14 minutes”, Cara said.

The reaction she got was not quite what she expected… “Fuck the bridge…”

As Cara put on her light carbon fibre and ceramics protectors, which covered her lower arms and legs, her chest and shoulders, she attempted to motivate Natalie to get up again. 

“12 Minutes, master Natalie.”

“Just another minute longer…”, Natalie said and turned around.

Cara put her pants on, chose a high necked long-sleeve shirt covering her armour.

“10 Minutes master…”, Cara said, now getting nervous for her master.

“Alright, alright”, Natalie said. Moving slowly out of bed, cursing the whole time. She started rummaging in her bag as, as Cara had put on another shirt, a sweater and her jacket.

“You go on ahead. I’ll be right there with you…”, Natalie half mumbled.

“Are you sure…”

“Yeah, yeah, I already know most of what they are going to say. Shoo, shoo, off you go.”

Cara nodded, not very convinced by Natalie’s words. She left their cabin, noticing a strange smell she could not place in the corridor, a bit sharp in the nose and like nothing she had ever smelled before.

She moved down the corridor to the staircase and went all the way up where, past a peculiar looking section, that didn’t have the faded carpet but was pure metal, until she reached the door at the end of it. She knocked.

“No need to knock”, she heard Erika’s voice from inside, “come in.”

She opened the door slowly and looked inside. Behind the door was a surprisingly large bridge that could comfortably house at least five people. Surrounded by windows in all directions, giving everyone a great view of the surroundings without having to endure the cold autumn wind. As she moved inside, the room smelled of polished metal and coffee, she noted that all the windows were reinforced by iron rails which held metal shutters.

“Come, join us”, Wolfram said. “You are either welcome on the bridge, then you can just come right in, or you aren’t and then Erika will let you know.” Erika just snorted at that. “Coffee?”

“If I may…”, Cara said trying without much success to maintain eye contact. 

“As much as you like. But remember the rule…”, Wolfram said.

“The one who drinks the last cup”, Erika continued, “brews the next batch.” 

“Sounds fair”, Cara said, her voice a bit smaller than she had hoped it would sound. She walked over to the coffee maker that stood in the central space at the back of the bridge. The coffee maker was an old drip machine, she knew the model from catalogues. A dutch model that was known as the king of the drip machines. She got a bit exited. It had a strange look to it, which she soon discovered was, because the stainless steel body of the coffee maker was by now covered in a patina of coffee. 

“Oh, and we drink it sailor strength”, Wolfram added. “If you aren’t used to coffee, you should dilute it with water.”

“I’m good. I can handle my coffee”, a phrase Cara never had imagined she’d ever use. 

When she poured herself a cup, she knew why co-captain Wolfram had warned her. The liquid was slightly viscous. When she added an extra big helping of sugar she was sure that it did not sink instantly into the liquid. She added a good amount of cream, turning the coffee from event-horizon black to a very dark brown. When she pulled the spoon out of it she was a bit surprised that it still existed. 

She had taken her time, hoping that Natalie would finally appear, especially seeing that 35 minutes had already passed since the announcement. She turned around, facing the co-captains, fearing their stares, but Wolfram was looking out the window, the boat moving very slowly towards a large metal portal that cut off the canal in front of them, framed by high towers with armed guards on various levels of them. Mostly people with crossbows on the lower levels and longbows on the higher ones. But there were a few guards at the top which had pre-fall rifles.

“Er… master Natalie should be with us very soon…”, Cara ventured.

Erika looked up from the console where she had been prodding several buttons and gently tapping several gauges. 

“Ah, don’t worry about Nat, sweety, she knows the drill. We’ll get started and by the time we are through the basics she’ll either be here or…”

“Erika will make her be here”, Wolfram said nodding solemnly.

“Very much”, Erika said.

“So…”, Wolfram said, “as you have heard we are co-captains. I am the one who does the navigation, I got the helm and plan the cargo runs we do, that kind of things. And Erika…”

“I take care of the engines,” she said, “I keep an eye on the details and I am the one who takes care of security.”

“Once we go through that portal”, Wolfram said, nodding towards the lock behind him, “we will be in the Purgatory Gap, a lawless region between Sendaion and the channel cross at Datlem. It’s only about 20 miles from here, but even when you know the course and go full steam ahead, the Ruhig Blut will take about one hour to cross it. In that hour nothing may happen or we get attacked. There are several old canal parts that are just perfect for pirates to hide in. And over the years new side channels have appeared that weren’t there before. Along this route are Ludinchusen which has a constant beef with Monasteria and the mercenary city of Ulfloa, whose inhabitants will do anything for a quick buck”, Wolfram shrugged. “Whatever the case, once we are in the Purgatory Gap, you’ll listen to Erika. She has the command when it comes to protecting the ship, the cargo and you.”

“In that order,” Erika added. “You are our guests of course, but in the Purgatory Gap you are also our guards. We fight together and we make it together.”

Cara nodded, took a sip of her coffee to hide the fact that she didn’t know what to say now. The coffee kicked its way through into her system, starting at her mouth, not waiting to be swallowed. As Cara was working on not to choke on it, the door to the bridge opened up and a zombie which looked suspiciously like Natalie shambled in. 

“Need coffee”, the creature said and shambled past Cara, pouring itself a generous portion of the viscous fluid. Cara noticed that the creature that might be Natalie left enough for a small cup inside the coffee pot. 

“Ship, cargo and maybe us?”, the creature said. It sipped the coffee, its face doing things that no face should be able to do. It added copious amounts of sugar.

“Exactly”, Erika said, “and if you want I can show all the things that will power the Ruhig Blut through the Purgatory Gap”, she grinned. Wolfram behind her moved a step to the side to stand completely in the blind spot of his wife, and then started to shake his head, also shaking an empathetic no with his hand.

Behind Cara, the undead creature decided that it needed all the coffee.

“What do you say? Cara, Natalie?”

“Oh nooo… the coffee is all gone. I think I need to go brew a new one…”

“I’d love to go!”, Cara said.

Erika’s face outshone the light of the early autumn sun.

Wolfram’s face was a mask of terror, while behind Cara, the undead creature almost let its mug slip out of its hand.

“Great!”, Erika said. “You’ll love it. I have sooo much to show you”, she looked back at the lock. “The first portal isn’t even open yet, we have enough time for a tour, before we enter the Purgatory Gap. Come”, beaming, she took Cara’s arm, pulling her with her towards the door. 

As Cara was pulled through the door back down stairs into the bowels of the ship, she could swear that the undead, who might be Natalie, murmured: “Some of us will be in Purgatory much earlier…” There was a deep sadness in that voice. 

Project Empress 018

 Chapter 5

Where the tides take us

It was close to 2 am on a Monday, actually a very early Tuesday, the city was quiet and dark. Natalie and Cara were sitting in the back of a large hydrogen driven carriage, easily recognised by the two large exhausts circled in golden script, blessing the water vapour produced by the engine as it left the car. 

The driver was holding a varied monologue, complaining about the lack of clients at this time, but happy that there were no drunks during the week, wondering what two pretty young ladies wanted at the harbour at this unchristian time of day, then wondering even more that they were leaving Monasterian territory at all, and to go to the Confederated Cities of all places, if they didn’t worry about all the bandits in the law-less territories and why anyone would want to go to a place so secular. Natalie gave him the shortest answers possible, which always resulted in a new monologue.

Natalie herself was hardly listening, mostly murmuring to herself, pouring over her ‘plan’, which to Cara looked like a large piece of e-paper covered by several layers of  doodles and notes that would someday become an artefact setting ablaze the heart of any archaeologist that found it. And its charger. 

Cara, on the other hand, was looking out of the window. The talking of the cab driver and the murmuring of her new master nothing more than the voice equivalent of rain patter. She was mostly thinking about what in the world she could have done to be declared a traitor by her own school. She had wanted to go to master Manfred to talk to him. Surely that would resolve the misunderstanding they were having. She would also have wanted to warn him about the blonde man; he was obviously a cheat and a liar not worthy to hold a sword in his hands much less learn the secret techniques of the great Liechtenauer style. Natalie and Walter would have none of it though. And so here she was, feeling amorphously guilty looking at a city she had know her entire life, had grown up in, now all cold and dark. It felt as if her home itself had turned away from her. As she felt tears welling up in her eyes, something in the voice of the driver had changed enough to make her look up. 

“… the harbour. The harbour never sleeps, eh. It truly is one of the beating hearts of the city.”

Cara wondered for a second what kind of beast the city had to be to have several hearts. Before she could follow that line of thought though, she saw the warm amber of the harbour lights. There, right ahead of her, was an island of life and activity surrounded by the darkness of the sleeping city.

As they moved closer, Natalie swore, redoubling her efforts of scribbling in her already overloaded ‘plan’, while Cara watched wide eyed: the cranes of the harbour were dancing their strange mechanical dance, carrying containers to and fro, guided by the dance of the human workers on the ground, scaffolds, containers and towers. 

The cab turned into the harbour itself, moved its way through a canyon of containers until they could see ahead of them the row of freighters.

“Which one is yours?”, the driver asked.

“The ‘MHS Ruhig Blut’, it’s a Monasterian free-trader. It should be anchoring in the”, Natalie looked at her ‘plan’ and to Cara’s deep surprise, Natalie somehow instantly found what she was looking for, “Block D-1 to D-4”.

“’Ruhig Blut’?”, the driver laughed a loud laugh that would have qualified him to play Santa Clause, “the ‘Stay chill?’ I like that.” The car turned to the right, passing the white and gold church ships anchoring in the A blocks, that took more than half of the anchoring space. Past the sanctioned company ships of blocks B and C, towards the D block where the free-traders had their ships. All the ships up to this point had been following a certain uniform design, but with the free traders this radically changed. Now every ship was its own design, some grand, some deeply spartan, there were solar sail ships, steam driven ones, some of the smaller ones were even powered by human or animal power. And then there was the ‘MHS Ruhig Blut’.

It looked the most like a company ship, but instead of normal navigational lights, it had giant red glowing tube running along side the ship. On the back of the ship Cara could see that there was an equal tube on the other side this one glowing green. The cabin space in the aft was longer than on most other ships, while there was also a cabin complex on the fore of the ship, both of which sloped down into two green houses as they moved towards the ship’s centre, both of them dark, but with fogged up windows. It was only after these parts, that the open cargo space appeared, which right now was being loaded with the last containers. Some the white gold of the church, others in the colours and icons of large Monasterian companies and a few just the red-brownish colour of an unbranded cargo container.

The driver stopped next to the gangplank where a large thin man was looking over a list discussing it with a stevedore. 

“Here you are”, the driver said. He got out himself and helped them get their luggage out of the transporter. While he was still piling backpacks on suitcases, Natalie was writing on an official looking and pre-sealed piece of velum. When the driver was done with the luggage and had closed the doors again, Natalie gave him the paper saying, “Here, you earned this. Especially if you forget that you ever saw us or where you drove tonight”. She smiled a surprisingly magnanimous smile. Cara couldn’t see what was written on the velum, but she could see the eyes of the driver widening. She also knew what a ecclesial pledge of recompense looked like. 

“As you can see we, and with us the arch-bishop, are extremely pleased with your work and should we remain that pleased with it for the next month you will reap the goodwill that you sowed four fold, as the good Lord teaches us.”

The driver just nodded, then added, “The Lord is our shepherd and in his mercy he will provide…”, he then remembered that he wasn’t alone. “May the Lord bless you, my lady.”, he retreated bowing before Natalie and Cara until he had entered his wagon, where he crossed himself and stared at the velum for a little while longer before leaving.

While Cara was still captivated by the reaction of the driver -how much money had he received? Was that even OK? It looked like Natalie may have been a bit too generous with resources that weren’t hers to give?- Natalie had started talking to the tall man. 

“…this is Cara over there. She is my new apprentice.”

“You have an apprentice?”, the man said, “wonders never cease!” He turned to Cara, “It is a pleasure to meet you Cara, I am captain Wolfram Hartmann Serafini.” He shook her hand, his grip was that of a very well mannered vice. “And somewhere over there,” he gestured towards where the last containers were being loaded, “you’ll find my wife Erika. Whatever you do, do not ask her about the engine or technical details of the ship. If you do it anyway, I warned you and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.” He smiled a last warning smile and turned back to Natalie. 

“You are lucky, our grand passenger suite is still free”, he said to Natalie.

“Are we?”, Natalie scanned the ship and dock with a raised eyebrow, “to me it looks like it’s you who are lucky. Because it looks like we are your only passengers.”

“Bah… passengers are just a side hustle. As you can see,” he gestured towards the containers. “Business is going really well and we will probably be using some of the passenger cabins to get some more light cargo. Very lucrative light cargo. I am basically doing you a favour here.”

“Are you?”, now that thin smile that promised an explosion of gleeful violence appeared on Natalie’s lips. “To me it looks more like you really need some help, to get your precious cargo past the Purgatory Gap…”

Cara was following the spectacle, trying to find out what exactly was happening here. Both of them seemed to be friends… and they were haggling? Before they had even talked about the price? 

“Bah, the “Ruhig Blut” is one of the fastest freighters in the entire region and we have some of the best anti-boarding weapons mankind can produce. We hardly need help to get past the Gap. At full speed will get through there in under an hour.” 

“Really? That’s great, I hope the slowest attack crafts keep that in mind and don’t push their engines over half power and give you the right of way, then. Also this,” she pointed at the containers being moved. “, doesn’t look like last minute loading at all. As if someone,” she cast captain Wolfram a meaningful look, “had spontaneously decided of jumping the gap tonight…”

“Wolfram!”, a female voice flooded over them, “What are you doing? Stop pestering our guests!”

“What?”, Wolfram turned around towards a woman who was moving in long powerful strides towards them down the dock. “My love, I am just following tradition!”

“What tradition?”, Cara asked, curious about what exactly this spectacle was supposed to represent. To her it looked like the captain and master Natalie were arguing.

“Well, young Cara,”, captain Wolfram said, “the age old tradition of haggling over the price for services rendered.”

“That was haggling?”, she and Erika said at the same time, Cara confused, Erika exasperated. 

“Really, caro mio?”, Erika said. “What is the price range we are talking about then?”

“Er…”, said captain Wolfram.

“We were about to come to that point.”, Natalie said raising a finger. 

“Ah Natalie, what a pleasure it is to see you.”, Erika beamed, she embraced Natalie in a bear hug, and despite being almost a head shorter than Nat, she effortlessly lifted her of the ground moving her left and right. Natalie squeaked softly in protest. 

“No need to kill me…”, Natalie gasped.

‘Cuddled to death…’, Cara thought, ‘Not the end I had expected for Natalie.’

“And who are you?”, Erika asked, turning, an unhappy Natalie sill dangling in her arms.

“I am Cara. I am master Natalie’s apprentice!”

“Apprentice?”, Erika glowed, she let go of Natalie who squawked as she made contact with the floor again.

“Look at you, aren’t you the cutest?”, Erika said moving towards Cara with a terrible pinch-in-the-cheek energy. Cara tensed, getting ready for the first contact, which turned out to be a warm embrace and two quick pecks on her cheeks. “Welcome to the family my dear. I am Erika. That over there is Wolfram my often wonderful husband and behind us is the Ruhig Blut, our pride and joy.”

“Er… thank you. Mrs. Erika…”

“Just Erika, sweety.”, she smiled. Then she turned back around to face Natalie and her husband, as she turned all her warmth into thorns. “So… about that haggling of yours...”

Both captain Wolfram and Natalie stood up straighter, none of them daring to say the first word.

“Nat, my dear, were do you need to go?” 

“Dortmund at the very least. We need to go to the forge fortress Solingen. Cara needs training and equipment.”

Erika considered Natalie´s words for a second, rubbing her chin. 

“Then we’d rather go at least to Düsseldorf… and there…”

“District 9, they have a private trade harbour there.”, Wolfram said, his eyes scanning over a map he was visualising, his voice now all business. 

Erika nodded. “Good plan. How long are you going to stay at the forge fortress?”

“Depends,” Natalie said. “If we get a place to stay and train, for a couple of months…”

“What is your final destination?”, Wolfram asked.

“Vienna. In about six months.”

Erika and Wolfram exchanged looks. “It would be wiser to push further south,” Wolfram started. “And find a place to stay over the winter months.”, continued Erika, “and then push forward again as spring arrives.”

“Maybe.”, Natalie said. “But the most important part here is training Cara here. A Salle that will have us and let us do our thing would be the the best. Especially during winter.”

“Good point,”, Erika said. “So we can take you to Disrict 9 in Düsseldorf. You are going to get board and lodging and you will help in defending the ship. Especially in the Purgatory Gap.”

“That would be the deal.”, Natalie said. This confused Cara, wasn’t that what her master and the captain had been arguing about only a few minutes ago?

“So what’s your budget?”, Erika asked.

“Two Monasterian gold icons and not a cent more.”, Natalie said.

Cara had to pull her hand in front of her mouth so that the others wouldn’t notice her jaw dropping. One gold icon, a thin pressed gold plate in a steel frame was the highest denomination of money in Monasteria and was roughly the equivalent of a fourth of Cara’s pretty decent yearly income.

A smile flickered on Erika’s face but failed to fully manifest. She slowly turned towards captain Wolfram. “Caro mio… you have been haggling over two gold icons for taking two passengers to Dortmund?!”

“But my love… the tradition!” 

“Don’t you ‘my love’ me right now. You are a disgrace to your profession and my family.”

Natalie tried to hide her smug smile, not very hard, she also failed spectacularly at it.

“And you Nat…”, Erika turned back her eyes burning away any sign of smugness from Natalie’s face. “You had to keep that fact to your self and indulge in this childish play? What would your parents say to such behaviour?”

“My parents are dead…?”, Natalie said.

“Good for them”, Erika said her voice now growing louder. “To imagine what they would have to go trough, if they heard about this! Or maybe worse, because now they are watching you from heaven”, she crossed herself as she said that, “with all your other ancestors. Just imagine how they need to excuse your behaviour to all your noble ancestors who came before you.” 

Natalie shrank under the onslaught of Erika’s words. “It’s not their fault…”

“Maybe not,” Erika said, “but it is their responsibility…” Erika sighed and shook her head.

“Well what are we standing around wasting our time with empty talk, let’s get your luggage on board. We need to weigh anchor soon, so that we can pass through the Purgatory Gap during the day.”

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.

Project Empress 014

 [Chapter 4 continued]

Cara didn’t notice how the time passed as she was almost in a constant flow with Walter, who at first had just moved with her and, as they went on, kept helping her find better movements, overcome situations where she thought she was stuck, adjusted her stance, grip or strikes, giving them better form and more power. 

When Walter stopped and told her that it was high time for a break, she noticed that the quality of the light had changed, instead of the LEDs it was now the sun, high in the sky that was shining down on them warming up the greenhouse and somewhere she heard the hum of electrical converters. 

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

“I can still go on”, Cara said.

“I can see that, but we’ve been training for almost four hours now and we both need to eat before we continue. Also, I’d like to talk to you about what know about the arts and we can do that over lunch.”

Cara wasn’t really hungry, actually the thought of stopping the training now was a bit annoying. There were still a few things that she wanted to try again and she had some ideas of how to move in new interesting ways. However, Walter didn’t look as if he was open for any kind of discussion. Now that she had stopped moving and given her body a moment to relax she noticed that she was quite thirsty. As soon as that thought had surfaced there was another breaking news message arriving in her mind, that the idea of food might not be that bad after all.

Ten minutes later they were sitting downstairs around one of the large wooden tables of the bar. Walter had served a stew of meat, potatoes, carrots, onions and tomatoes with freshly baked bread. The stew had been simmering since early in the morning. The bread he had baked of a simple dough, it was still hot. As the bread and stew filled the room with their smell, Cara noticed that she may be a bit ravenous and could eat half a pig or another similar small snack. Walter served her a mixture of one part ice cold apple juice and sparkling mineral water that right now was close to celestial ambrosia.

When they started to eat they didn’t talk for a while. It was only during seconds that they started to talk.

“What do you know about the Ramparts and Animus?”, Walter asked her, dipping a bit of bread into his stew.

“Ramparts are the basics of all martial arts. Technique, strength, stamina, coordination”, Cara spooled off. “Animus… is… mostly superstition, I guess?” 

“Hmmm…”, Walter just nodded. He dipped his bread in his stew, took a bite. He spent some time chewing, his eyes still focused on some other place, darting around, he ate a few more spoon fulls of the stew. “Yeah, that makes sense. Your Ramparts are pretty decent.”

“They are?”, Cara asked. She couldn’t quite believe that. In the last few days she had gotten more positive feedback about her physical abilities than in her entire life before. 

“Yep”, Walter was still focused on whatever he was seeing before his mind’s eye. “Your moves are strong, very grounded. They have impact. Your grappling is unpolished but very solid. And when you finally stop thinking, your movements start aligning towards your target. You also have some very solid understanding of the flow of power that comes from your opponent, that helps you a lot”, he focused on Cara, “You never had grappling or wrestling training”, it really wasn’t a question.

“No”, Cara said, her gaze evading Walter’s.

“And yet it’s hard to get you under control when grappling. Throwing you is always more work than it should be. Also, when you fall you never stay down. You did learn that on your own.”

“Well in school, when someone weaker was bullied by one of the bigger kids, I could not just stand there. So I often…”, Cara did not quite raise her head, but her eyes met Walters asking his gaze if it was a problem, “…got involved. I didn’t win often, but then I also almost never lost.”

Walter smiled. “I bet you didn’t”, he chuckled. “Look, we don’t have much time. This morning was to look what you already know to do, to find your strengths, were you already are good.”

“I’m not good at all”, Cara said, her eyes now focused on a potato she was poking with her spoon, but gently, she would not want to hurt the potatoes feelings. 

“Bullshit. No one is ‘not good at all’. You might not know things. You might not have learned them. But everyone, everyone does some things right.”

“Easy for you to say. You are a master”, Cara said, apologetically poking the potato. “I’ve been a novice for 4 years and I have still not made it out to the lowest tier…”

“You know, one thing I learned during my life is that there are hardly any bad students, but lots and lots massively shitty teachers. We only have one day today, that isn’t much. Don’t expect any miracles. I will help you put the things you already know into a context that will help you understand the art better. I will also show you a few tricks that will make your body understand complex motion in a more direct way, after that, there will be a lot more of the things that you can do on your own, that will help you improve your style.”

Cara was now looking at Walter again, her mouth slightly agape, the potato took the opportunity to hide under a chunk of meat.

“But first”, Walter said, “we need to talk about Animus. It is not superstition. Many just don’t seem to understand it. The Ramparts are important. They are the external force, the body, literally the ramparts. The Animus is what makes it work, makes it flow, the control beneath it. The things that lie under the surface. Your breath is real, your nervous system is real, there are real ways to access them. We are certainly going to work on that. Your Animus is weak and all over the place.”

“How can breathing help me?”, Cara asked. “I have pretty good stamina. I think of all the things that I do, my breathing is fine”, she chuckled nervously while the idea that she wasn’t even able to breath right, was dawning on her like a baleful green sun. “I’m breathing wrong?”

Walter laughed. “No you are breathing fine. But I can show you how to breath better. How to synchronise your mind and body. Show you the secret pathways that will allow your mind to influence your autonomous body functions.”

Cara, leaning back a bit, her eyebrows high, said, “Now you sound like a wizard.”

“Like Dumbledore?”, Walter laughed, his hand stroking his long imaginary beard.

“Who?”

“Kids these days…” Walter sighed. “Come, eat your stew the day is short and our training plan long.”

Twenty minutes later they were up on the roof garden again. They started slow, with just the basics of Cara’s style. Walter then explained to her how she should breathe in when pulling the sword back to herself, and to breathe out when pushing it away. 

After doing that for a while they did a slow motion duel, the focus here not being so much the fight itself but to help Cara move in a dynamic combat situation while having her breath under control.

When it became harder for her to keep up with Walter, he stopped the duel and told her to return to the basics while he made them tea.

Over the cup of tea, he showed her some of his basic breathing exercises, showing her how to slow the beat of her heart. 

“We will repeat this a couple of times today. We will fight, I will put on a bit of pressure and you will use the technique to calm your heart. Train this. Train this every day. With time this will become second nature and you will find balance between your mind and body.”

Cara was furiously trying to relax, when she heard Walter curse. She opened one eye and looked into his direction. Walter was looking at the sky, his jaw tense.

“What’s the problem?”, Cara asked.

“Time. It’s running away.”, he cursed under his breath, “There is still a lot left… but maybe this is for the best. Nat is your master not I. Still. There is one more thing that I need to teach you.”

“I’m ready”, said Cara, rising. She noticed that despite having been training for more hours in a single day than ever before, she still felt full of energy. 

“This one will help you to train yourself. Show me your strike from above.”

Cara did as she was told. 

“OK, now I want you to keep your upper arms, pressed to you torso and do it again.”

“What?”

“Your upper arms.”, Walter said, he pressed his own arms to his torso and moved around his own sword by mostly moving his hands up and down and moving his body. Cara chuckled. “Go on. Try it”, Walter said.

Cara felt a bit silly but did as she was told. A few moves in she heard Walter shout, “Oy! Don’t cheat. Keep those arms glued to your torso!” She did her best and it somehow worked. But most of those moves felt either horrible or when they started to feel at least a bit better, Walter complained that she was shifting out of the form.

“OK that’s enough”, Walter said after a while. “How did that feel?”

“Horrible”, Cara said. 

“Very good”, Walter said grinning. “Now we will do the opposite. Be careful with this one, you will throw your sword, not literally, keep it in your hands, but you will throw it with your arms stretched wide and you will then follow whereever its force takes you. Don’t stop the sword mid motion. You might hurt your joints if you do that. Just go with the flow and have fun. Here, I’ll show you.”

Walter raised his sword high over his right shoulder and threw it in a big arcing slash forward, it made swooshing sound as he did so. The sword was so fast and moved with such force that Walter had to swing it around him, while doing a surprisingly elegant pirouette. 

“Now you!”

Cara did the same thing as Walter and soon was turning round and round, flinging her sword into wide orbits around her body. She imagined a host of enemies around her, being cut horizontally and falling all around her. She laughed. 

“Well done”, Walter said. “Now what would you say about those two moves.”

“They are fun.” Cara beamed. 

“Would you use them in combat?”

“No”, Cara’s eyes grew wide with the mere suggestion.

“Why?”

“Because the first one is cramped and short. There is no range and its really slow. The other one is fast and has a lot of range but is almost impossible to control and weak.”

“You are absolutely right. The first one, the Closed Fist, has great power and great control but as you said, its slow, uncomfortable and has virtually no range. The Open Wing on the other hand, has incredible range, is extremely fast, but you keep falling after your sword and once committed there is no controlled way to stop it. However”, and here Walter started to look smug in that wizardly way again Cara thought, “Your strike from above moves between these two extremes. Between the Closed Fist and the Wide Open Wing is a sweet spot for your move. Try it.”

She did. 

“You really are Bumbledore!”, Cara said.

“Dumbledore…”, Walter sighed. 

“It feels completely different…”

“No, you just gave your body the context it needed to understand the motion you are doing. First try to find the centre between the Fist and the Wing.”

Cara tried it. It was not quite right. She tried again. Still off, a bit too much of the Closed Fist. Another try.

“Cara?”, Walter said, this time a bit louder.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad that the method is working but we need to press on.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been trying that strike for a couple of minutes now and we have to go on.”

“I have?”

“Yes,” Walter said smiling. “Don’t worry that’s normal. And that’s what I want you to learn. But first you will try a few variations, do your strike but try to get it as close to the Wide Open Wing as possible while still maintaining control. Then you do the same trying to get to the Closeed Fist as close as possible.”

And that is what Cara did. First cautiously, then with more and more freedom in her movements. After a while shifting between long wide winged attacks and closed fisted counters. 

“Very good”, Walter said. “Now the last part of the Fist and Wing Method is to combine both approaches into one move. What happens if you start in the Closed Fist and expand into the Wing? Or the other way round?”

“It won’t work for all moves, but for many. Find the points were it is obvious for your body that it doesn’t work anymore. Find the extremes of the movement. Savour them. Then find the basic move in the middle and from then expand back out. If you learn one thing today, learn this and everything I told you about the Animus. Now, go wild and explore your moves.”

As the stars in the skies above started to come out one by one, so did the variations of Cara’s most basic move multiply. Cara was in heaven.  

Project Empress 013

[Chapter 4 continued] 

The next day Cara arrived at Bacchus’ Barrel a few minutes before 10:00 am. She waited until it was exactly ten before ringing the doorbell. The door opened almost instantly, Walter appearing behind it, looking at her pleasantly surprised. 

“So you know how the doorbell works”, he said.

“Yes. I grew up here and I know how buttons work”, Cara said.

“Have you had breakfast?”, Walter asked as he let her in.

“I had my coffee. That’s all I need in the morning.”

Walter eyed her as he walked outside with a laminated paper sign in his hand and shrugged. “You know yourself best”, he said, closed the door a bit and put the sign on it.

“Why the sign?”, Cara asked.

“Because today the bar will remain closed.”

“Why? Did something happen? Do you need help?”, Cara asked fidgeting a bit.

Walter paused, his eyebrows rising on the tide of his amusement, which also pulled the corners of his mouth up. 

“You happened and if I’m not mistaken, I will be helping you.”

Cara turned crimson. “You c… can’t close your bar just for me…”, she stammered. 

“First, relax”, Walter raised his hand, moving it to pat her shoulder, but shortly before touching her, asked, “may I touch you?”

“What? Er… yes?”

Walter patted her on her shoulder, his giant hand was warm and heavy in a comforting way. A contrast to Natalie’s encouraging ‘pats’, which she always felt resonating like thunder through her entire body. 

“First we relax,” Walter continued. “This is my bar, I fought very long and very hard to get it. This gives me the luxury to decide what to do each day all on my own. Today I have decided to train you.”

“Why?”

“Why not? You are a good kid. Natalie believes in you. She even took you as her apprentice”, he snorted and shook his head as he said that. “Also on some days… I kind of miss it.”

“Teaching?”

“Yeah.”

“So you usually don’t like it?”

Walter gestured her to follow her. They walked through the bar to the door in the back leading to the toilets and the stairs. Just as Cara was starting to wonder if she had said something wrong, Walter spoke again. 

“No, I like it, but in the past, I trained soldiers mostly. Most of them didn’t get to the point where they could ever decide of what to do with their lives. What a waste…”, tears were pooling in Walter’s eyes. Cara fidgeted with her hands, not knowing what to say.

“In time I lost the taste for it. Even as things started to quiet down… Sometimes the things you do get polluted by the circumstances in which you do them, you know… So…” Walter shrugged. They walked up the stairs, past Walters flat up to the roof garden. 

Where the air on the street was cold, in that way that creeps past even the warmest clothes, draining the heat of all it touched, the garden itself was warm. The air was a bit humid but in a way that it carried the warmth of the garden into the body. The air smelled of the herbs grown here. As they moved past them it was the basil that gave the air most of its character. The place was bright, a quarter with the slightly unmotivated daylight the rest of the slack taken up by the rows of growth LED-strips om the glass ceiling.

Walter turned around to Cara, “Please promise me one thing; if I teach you, never, ever fight a war for someone else. If you fight, then only because it is you who wants to fight and if it is your fight you are going to fight.”

It took Cara a few moments to consider Walter’s words. It was a strange request she thought, more suitable to some kind of wizard or priest, rather than the owner of a wine bar. Then she had to consider the request itself. A part of her wanted to simply say yes, it felt like the right thing to do. It carried with it the tone of an epic. However Cara didn’t give her word lightly. It had to be something that she believed that she could actually do. If she did not try her best then what worth would her word have? 

But in the end, it sounded like a reasonable request. So far Cara had never been asked to fight any war. As she was thinking about it, she did think, that if she was asked to do something like that, the war that was happening was in some way or form also her own. That made sense. Cara nodded to her self.

“You have my word.”, Cara said.

Walter’s face relaxed, he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you Cara. That means a lot”, he let go of her shoulder and walked to the green in the middle of the garden. “If you want to get changed, you can do so in the shed over there, else leave your backpack over there and join me here.”

Cara nodded, went to the shack, changed clothes, and checked her face. She had chosen a simple and subtle make-up today. Now that she had a feel for the situation, she added a bit of eye-liner. A little bit fierce perhaps but mostly one that showed that she meant business. 

When she joined Walter he said, “Like the eyeliner, a good touch. Now let’s get started. We start super slow. I want you to attack me, as you are without weapons. Depending of the flow of it, I’ll react and counter, also really slow. OK.”

“Unarmed?”, Cara said.

“Unarmed.”

“But I don’t know any unarmed martial arts…”

“It’s OK. This isn’t a contest or anything. I just want to see how you move, how you react. Get to know you as a fighter. I don’t want to waste your time with things you already know, nor should I miss anything that you don’t know. And the best part is, if I see something that is already part of your flow for which you have no understanding yet, I can bring that into a context that will let that hidden quality of yours shine.”

“Okay”, Cara said, still feeling a bit awkward, as she didn’t know what was expected of here. In the Salle of Master Brumotti von Burg, there were always very clear rules, expectations and limits to any action a student made. She decided to throw a punch. She moved in slow motion, her fist moving towards Walters face, stopping half an inch in front of it. Cara stopped. Nothing happened.

“Er…”, Cara said.

“I’m waiting”, Walter said.

“I already attacked you and punched your nose.”

Walter looked her in the eyes. “Cara, you missed my nose. You do have to actually touch it for your punch to connect.”

“I can’t just punch you…”, she said her hand moving back.

“First of all: you didn’t. Then I told you that you should move slowly. You won’t hurt me in that speed since it also gives me enough time to react. I may be old but my reflexes aren’t that bad yet.” 

Cara blushed. 

“Also, and this is way more important, you control your attacks. You decide when to hurt me and when you won’t and right now we are two friends…”, Walter paused for a moment looking for the right words, “…slowly dancing in a martial way. You can touch me without hurting me, right?”

Cara nodded and threw another slow motion punch, this time using all her willpower to actually make contact. As she did so, Walter moved his head back with the punch. 

“Attagirl, now we’re talking. Keep it up.”

After a few of these ‘punches’ Walter started to react to the attacks, first with blocks, then with counters. After a while he had to remind Cara to go a bit slower. When they found a good rhythm Walter started attacks of his own if Cara took to long to decide what to do next.

After a while they were both dancing. In a martial way.