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Chapter 9: Vulnerable

“So...” Primrose tapped her claw-tips together, then interlocked her fingertips, then finally rubbed her hands.

Jacob looked away from the window of the carriage to Prim. “Hmm?”

The Randell estate wall was a fading line on the horizon. Obviously nobody there could hear her but the half-mile distance made what she wanted to discuss a little easier.

She stopped playing with her hands and cleared her throat to make herself seem less timid. “I had always wondered why a brave, righteous knight of the crown like Jacoby Falkshire was still playing the field. Going by what Isaac said, I assume you've had your share of suitors.”

Jacob smirked. “They've certainly tried. It was never about romance though, just politics. Besides, you know me; I really can't abide the favour currying and detest those that are in deep with the high society 'game' in which everyone seems so fluent.

“The few that I thought were built from humble and sturdy stock... well, you've experienced first-hand how seriously my uncle tests any potential suitors with which I associate. I've...” he licked his lips and seemed distant for a moment. “I've not courted anyone for some time, and I didn't expect him to pull the same tricks on you. I apologise, both on my uncle's behalf and for not at least giving you a warning.”

Primrose's heart fluttered as she wondered, if not hoped, at something hidden beneath those words, but no. She was being naïve. She tittered and waved her hand. “Well, why would you? I'm working for you and we're not courting. Clearly he was just having a lark at both of our expense.”

Jacob opened his mouth for a second, but just sighed. His eyes went from Primrose to the carpeted floor of the carriage, then out the window. “I suppose you're right.”

Silence dominated the cabin, even dulling the rhythm of hooves and the creak of the leaf-springs suspension as the carriage travelled the road. Even so, Primrose focused on them rather than let her mind wallow on the pathetic begging of her heart, but it was an oppressive longing. She instead tried to change the subject. “Well, at least Isaac seems to have you often in his thoughts. It must be nice to have someone as a paternal figure.”

Jacob smiled for a moment, then looked vulnerable. “That's because he blames himself. You know, about my parents.”

“Ah, it wasn't my intention to pry. You don't need-”

Jacob waved his hand. “It's alright. After you've divulged so much about yourself, you deserve to know. And besides, if anything, you have a worse situation with a father figure, yet grew up strong by your own virtues. I at least had a guide, a shining example with which to aspire.”

He sat back and his eyes stared out the window for a moment, occasionally nodding to himself before he looked back at Prim. “My father was a physician for the knights of the crown, and he had a keen interest in studying the mind as well. He believed, more than anyone, that mental wellness was paramount to physical. He spoke to those who returned from war often to understand the rigours of warfare, the effect harming another could have on the psyche, and even developed successful treatments. It earned him a great deal of respect and favour, which was where I was given the benefit of training as a knight from a young age.”

“That's fascinating,” Primrose breathed, with more than a little awe. “I knew you earned your knighthood, but I always had you pinned as someone born affluent, but that's far more noble- um, in a spiritual sense, I mean. None of this lineage nonsense.”

“That's... half true, I suppose. My mother was of the aristocracy. One of the knights, Sir Bartholemew, more or less pushed his daughter into my father's arms as thanks for helping him and his men for so many years. She was a former priestess of St. Phoebe before her father reached knighthood, so she was well versed in medicine as a result. They began a partnership, first professional and eventually romantic. As time went on, they began using their combined knowledge on a wider caste of people as I continued my training. Tabitha was born during that time as well.”

Once more, his face tensed and he looked down at his feet. “Of course, not all people are able to recover as well as steadfast knights with years of discipline. A noble born soldier, who had been traumatised after being the sole survivor of his battalion, decided to force himself on my mother. My father did his utmost to defend her, tried to plead for the man to calm. The soldier... acted as a soldier would when under perceived attack.”

Primrose bit her lip and her whiskers flopped. “Jacob, I'm sorry-”

He dismissed the sympathy with a short wave of his hand. “I remember returning to my father's clinic. I was fourteen, full of bluster and triumph for winning a junior sparring tourney and had won my place as a squire. I remember the blood-” Jacob's voice strained. He winced and cleared his throat. Then he looked furious. “I remember butchering the soldier my first real sword, my prize and symbol of status as squire, when I found him strangling Tabitha to stop her screaming. I remember seeing the light fade from his eyes, the madness in them turning to lucidity as he stopped breathing.

“Without my father's influence, and since he had decided to cancel his sponsorship from the crown to run his own clinic, Tabitha and I were left to fend for ourselves. The soldier's high-born family was able to convince the courts I was in the wrong and even outvoted Sir Bartholomew due to favour currying. While I was too young to be tried for murder, I was stripped of my squireship for dishonourable conduct.”

Jacob shook his head and smiled with clenched teeth. “Vliechov was still invading Bralran and I needed a way to vent my sorrow and anger. It just so happened that the crown had lowered the age of conscription out of desperation, so I enlisted as soon as I could. I sent every lile I earned back to Tabitha and after years of service, and for my valour, I earned my full knighthood at nineteen.

“So yes. My uncle wasn't wrong when he was critical of my father and his mercy; he let his pride in his methods cloud the need for even a bodyguard. War harms people in ways you can't control, and I don't blame that soldier, despite how I felt at the time.”

Prim sat in silence. The lofty opinion she held of Jacob saw his lack of blame for the soldier as noble, but the bitter pragmatist within saw it as foolish and weak. An exploitable vulnerability.

She swallowed both ideas as Jacob shrugged and continued, “you know my uncle, though; he had seen people fracture under the weight of war and sometimes, there's simply no way to help them, shy of locking them up or inflicting something more permanent. Uncle always insisted but he stopped short of demanding. He trusted my father knew what he was doing.

“I still try to honour my father however I can by helping those who struggle with the burdens of the ravages of war. Jasper and Gretchen being the obvious ones with their injuries. Say nothing to him, but even jovial Bernard suffered; he fell into a deep depression after killing his first man and I helped him come to terms, supported him. He still dislikes violence, but thankfully there isn't much call for violence beyond subduing intruders or cuffing drunken visitors around the ear during my auctions.”

Primrose felt awful for Jacob, but knew his pride would again dismiss her sympathy. She instead replied, “and for all these fine folk, you still find the time to help snot-nosed little fools like myself. Perhaps you're aiming for Sainthood?”

Jacob chuckled. “No, nothing like that. And besides, your struggles were no trifling matter either, Prim. Had I met you earlier, I would have taken you under my protection, but there's only so many people one man can help.” He snapped his fingers and seemed to remember something. “Speaking of help, I've been meaning to ask a favour. I take it you have able and skilled folk in Patterfield? I could use at least a score of them for a project.”

“Of course!” Primrose beamed. “Most of the Patterfield families are a dab hand at all sorts of crafts, and I'm sure many of them would be grateful for something besides maintaining and repairing our humble homes. I'm sure it would do them some good to earn some legitimate coin as well. Opportunities have been far and few between.”

Jacob leaned back in his seat. “Well, good. Send as many as are willing and I'll give them all a fair wage. It's time to make use of that plot of land behind my estate. I'm thinking of building a clinic like my father owned. Or at least a place for troubled folk to escape their day-to-day woes and just talk. That and I'd like to turn the garden into something more ordered but stunning.”

Primrose cocked an eyebrow and her ears went askew. “Oh? Are we not concerned about drunkards and miscreants making a mess any more?”

“I would think you of all people would understand,” Jacob said and shrugged. “One can't remain isolated forever; eventually, they must expose themselves and strike forward.”

“Life is for the living, I suppose. I understand. I'll ask around and send them to you as soon as I can.”

“Excellent!” Jacob leaned forward again and grinned, elbows on knees and his chin perched on his interlocked fingers. “So about last night.”

Primrose didn't hesitate, and chimed, “a fair evening had by all! I just wish I had the fortitude to withstand all the drinking.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow but retained the cheeky smile. “Prim. Stop. It's alright; like I said before, I had no problem with you conducting what business you felt necessary so long as you didn't take anything unnecessarily. I just want to get a grasp of what happened.”

She could have continued the masquerade, but Jacob's grey eyes were piercing through her. “What gave it away? The fact the rogue had jammed open the door from the inside yet was blinded? Or how the man ended up with powder in his face when no such presence was found elsewhere?”

Jacob shook his head. “Actually, Gretchen spotted you skulking about in Gathard's yard and hiding on his carriage. It doesn't take St. Zoeli's infinite awareness to understand you were 'at work.'”

Primrose looked at the ceiling, as if she could see through the upholstery and wood to where Falkshire's taciturn, one-legged archer no doubt rested. Keen eyes indeed.

“I may not have the witty tongue or keen senses that you have,” Jacob continued, “but if I haven't already demonstrated I can read people quite well, then I don't deserve my knighthood. It takes more than a good sword-arm to become one. As Madam Fairfax, the lecturer of knights at the academy, always told us, to know a person is to understand them. To understand is to control, and to control is to always find a way to win. So... last night?”

Primrose sighed and raised her hands in submission, then recanted her infiltration of Gathard's guest house and counter-heist of Hempley Knock-Knee. Jacob listened with a hawk's focus, but his occasional raised eyebrows betrayed his repeated surprise.

Once she finished, he seemed to mull it over, then scoffed and asked, “how did you manage to completely escape notice? I swear, the things you can do... are you sure you're not this Noran's Found? My uncle takes security as a point of pride, as you could well tell by his reaction to that Hempley fellow's betrayal, yet you go in, halfway drunk and infiltrate his gallery and Gathard's guest house, I presume, as if it was nothing.”

“I was forced to feed myself on thievery, so I've always taken thievery very seriously. I won't deny they're hardly proper talents, nor something I should be prideful of, but they're the skills I have at my disposal. Anyone else would do the same, given the circumstances and the same upbringing.”

Jacob said, “I doubt that. I've said it before and I shall say it a thousand times more, Primrose, you are a remarkable woman.”

Primrose sighed and shook her head. “Jacob, please. I've met remarkable folk. Real people of such great standing and ability. Yourself, for one. My Antoine, for being blessed with Kasta's might, was another. The unfathomable generosity and kindness of you, my late husband and the people of Hitherby have shown me how low and unremarkable I am. The only blessing I have is to keep running into such good people.”

“Sell yourself short if you must, but I shall hound you into greatness if I must, Prim.” Jacob leaned forward and stared into Primrose's eyes. “I think the only thing holding you back is you, yourself.”

Primrose held his stare for a moment. His silvery grey eyes, the kindness within them. The intensity. The way they flicked down her form for but a moment. The way she could see his muscles flex beneath his well fitted jacket...

Primrose cleared her throat loudly and busied herself with her satchel as her ears burned red. “W- well... all this talk of extraordinary people, I shall be extraordinarily busy once we return to the city, so I should really crack on with my reading!” She pulled out her current book, only for it to catch on the shoulder strap of her travel bag, slip from her hand and tumble to the floor. “Oh, blighters, crackers and buttocks.”

They both reached down to grab the spilled book at the same time and stopped just short. She could smell his simple, gently perfumed soap. He could feel his warmth. Her whiskers quivered on his breath.

“P- pardon me!” Primrose grabbed the book and buried her head so close to the page she could only smell the paper and ink.

A few seconds later, she realised the book was upside-down and did her utmost to ignore the lightest chuckle under Jacob's breath as she flipped it over.

It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

There was a frosty reception at Primrose's return top the Unshorn Post Tavern. She was also barred from the dart board, so she just occupied herself by playing cards with Jacob's men. They wagered hours of door and auction duty watch, the dullest and most frustrating respectively, each represented by paper strips.

Jacob was busy talking to a travelling merchant near the stairs to the private rooms. Prim kept watching him out of the corner of her eye, and he seemed to be having a tough time deciding something, thumbing his chin ponderously. He then walked over to a pretty raothaar barmaid and struck up a conversation with her.

Primrose's budding jealousy was disturbed as Jasper called, “two hours of auction and three on the door says you've got bugger all,” He slapped his cards face down on the table to slide the strips forward.

Sahir stroked his well trimmed greying beard, then raised the corner of his cards to peek at them. He then licked his lips and said, “I'll match that.”

Gretchen sniffed, stared at the pile, then matched the wager. Then doubled it. “Raise. Prim?”

Primrose was still watching Jacob but responded, “oh, uh... I fold.” She tossed her cards in the discard pile.

Jacob finished his conversation with the fluttery-eyed barmaid, then returned to the merchant and pointed at something on his table.

Jasper grunted, rubbed his stump on his chin, then matched the bid. “Prim. Nobody gets anywhere at the game of Sainthood without taking a few risks.”

“Perhaps it's a ploy?” Gretchen managed half a smile. For her it was about as emotive as Prim had ever seen. “She seems the sort to play soft but strike hard.”

“Not as hard as this!” Sahir cheered as he matched the bid and flipped his cards; three waters and a pair of coins; Valarie's strait. “Take a ship across that!”

Jasper sighed long and hard, and upturned a solid two pair of fires and coins and a single lock.

Gretchen rolled her eyes, sighed slowly and upturned a strong, hand-winning three fires, a water and a feather. “I almost had a Vanterre's Folly...”

Jacob approached the table. Prim could see the small bulge in the pocket of his jacket that sparked her curiosity and made her fingers itch. He asked “who's winning?”

“Well, as it stands,” Sahir said, with punchable smugness, as he shuffled the cards. “Jasper will be covering the next week of door duty, and Gretchen will be joining him in watching the fops at the next two auctions.”

Jacob pursed his lips and nodded. “Impressive. Did I mention Pondersitch was attending the next auction?”

Sahir's smile flopped as hard as Prim's last hand. He mumbled, “you're joking...”

“Sadly, no. If you'll excuse me, I'll be retiring early for the evening; I have to get the invitations written up.”

As soon as Jacob left, Prim asked, “Who's Pondersitch and what's the problem?”

Jasper leapt at the chance to rub in the situation. “Oh, Sahir and Quale Pondersitch go way back. Don't you, Sahir?” Jasper turned just as Sahir stuck his thumb-tip between his eyes, then flicked it over his brow; an old Ardentiphan insult. Jasper continued, “Pondy insists you spin him stories of your days of Ardentiphe. Often the same stories each month, in fact. Otherwise he's loathe to spend a single lile on the auctions and keeps frustrating the others with his constant tales of his own trip there.”

“A duty Mr. Falkshire does like to keep offering the man,” Sahir said and placed the deck in front of Gretchen. “He's one of the few nobles Mr. Falkshire likes, so he wants to keep him in good spirits.”

Prim smirked and watched Gretchen shuffle the cards. As much as she would have enjoyed a few hands now that her attention was back on the table, she still felt drained from her counter-heist. “I think I'll retire too. Jacob asked for a few of my friends to help with some building work when we get home, I should narrow down my list on who to ask.”

The three bade her a good night, and she approached the stairs, but not before she took a quick glance at the table belonging to the merchant. It was littered with all sorts of jewellery and trinkets. She spotted a couple of raothaar Sibling charms and even a pretty tail-bell. There was an obvious space, though nothing was priced or labelled. What had Jacob bought here?

Nothing, surely, Primrose figured. He didn't carry money, after all. It was just her imagination.

With a sigh, she made her way to her room. She managed to think of two of Patterfield's residents who would be best suited to the construction Jacob wanted before she was forced to submit, climb into bed, and fall into a deep sleep.

And dreamed of being in the strong arms of a kindly human knight.

* * *

“Sir?”

Primrose snapped her attention away from her book as Jacob turned and opened the carriage's viewport. Low, evening sun poured through; a thunderous downpour had delayed their journey and the muddy road made progress sluggish. At this rate, they wouldn't make the city until nightfall.

“What is it, Jasper?”

“You're not going to believe this, but those highwaymen are waiting for us again. Exactly the same spot, as well.”

Primrose glanced at her book, well tempted to continue reading after the previous attempt at being robbed, but sighed and rolled her eyes. She bookmarked her story and replaced it in her knapsack, then retrieved her weapons and armour.

Jacob did the same, though he drew Hellion for a moment and looked over the blade as though in deep thought. He then sheathed the starmetal sword, looped the scabbard onto his belt and ordered, “stop the carriage. Let's get this absurd fatuity over with.”

“I would come and fight by your side,” Primrose said with a shrug as the carriage slowed, “but I suppose I should wait and observe for an opportune moment again?”

Jacob gave a tired smile. “This won't take long, but I suppose that wouldn't hurt.” He stepped out of the cabin before it even came to a full stop, then called, “all of you, with me; we'll rout them as one.”

Primrose climbed the seat again and watched out the port hole. The high cliffs, trees and tall grass layered the land with rows of light and shadow, and at the far side, several familiar faces lined Lady Lile's crew, shy of those wounded or slain, in another dozen strong company. Again, they had a number of horses and a cart, only the cart was covered in grey metal studs, possibly silver.

Jacob slowed to let Sahir, Jasper and Gretchen to step beside him, then pushed toward the crew at a march.

The highwaymen looked at one another, but far from brace for an attack, some smirked and whispered to one another. Just as some began to put hands to their weapons, a voice called out out, a woman's voice, “hark! Stop right there!” A figure stood from the wagon.

Primrose knew who it was immediately.

Lady Lile.

Prim had read the stories about the raothaar highwaywoman, clad in a hood festooned with coins and led a brigade of highwaymen across Bralran. She had always assumed it was just lily's and maybe fives, but no; each and every coin was a hounds-eye. The idea of having a price on Lady Lile's head came to mind and it couldn't be more literal. A grand insult to the world and a price worn on her head with the hood alone must be worth a thousand, let alone the twenty thousand lile bounty on her brought in alive. She wanted people to try and take her down.

The hood also clearly doubled as a crude chain coif that also masked most of her face, matched with fine ring-mail over a garish red gambeson that left a notable window of pale grey furred cleavage. She was tall for a raothaar woman, only a couple of inches shy of five feet.

She leapt from the cart with a nimble flip over her fellows, rolled on her landing and stood between them and Jacob's crew. Lady Lile then raised a hand and said, “halt! Let us discuss terms!”

Jacob tapped his companions on the shoulder, who stood aside so the two leaders could meet. He said, “if you wish to surrender, I'm all ears.”

Lady Lile smiled warmly. “Actually, under the principles of your last meeting, I feel it only appropriate to return the favour.”

“What, another lop-sided duel?” Jacob replied.

“A fine idea! I accept.” Lady Lile waved two of her men over, who each held a pair of swords, as well as those worn on their hips.

Jacob tilted his head. “So what are the conditions? Me and my guards against you and these two?”

Lady Lile smiled and exposed her long incisors. “Of course not! Where's that sense of smug self-assuredness that made you maim two of my best and claim the lives of two more? Nay, sir; it shall be myself against you, sir knight...” she then made a grand sweeping gesture with her hands, “and these two gentlemen. No offence to the peg-legged lady behind you, but I do not wish to deprive your carriage of a driver.”

Gretchen scowled and, with a nod from Jacob, sheathed her sword and slowly limped back to the carriage, climbed on board and turned it around around to keep the horses from harm.

Jasper laughed and clashed the crosspiece of his sword on his shield. “Haughty bint, isn't she? Say the word, sir, and I'll take care of this scum myself.”

Jacob shrugged. “If she wishes to throw her life away, then what's the harm of letting her postulate. We'll be doing Bralran a favour by ending her reign of terror. Unless of course, she's planning to cheat?”

Lady Lile gasped in mock outrage. “Please! I am a woman of my word! These two gentlemen are simply here to carry my swords. I do like having a selection to best fit my mood. I'll be just a moment.”

She went to her first companion, looked at a longsword, tapped the handle, then shook her head. “No, no. Too drab.” The second, she drew and swished through the air. A fine saber with a golden hilt. “Maybe... perhaps not, I don't want to get too much blood on myself.” She shooed him away and then snapped her fingers as she turned to Jacob. “Am I correct in remembering you have a starsteel sword? What grade is it?”

Jacob drew Hellion. “If it will speed your piffle, a half.”

Lady Lile covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp, then turned back to her men and shouted, “it's only a half! Woe betide this pitiful woman!” As her men chuckled to themselves, she gestured to herself with a dramatic bow. “For but a moment, I thought I might finally find a worthy foe. Oh well.” She took one of the swords from her second companion and drew the blade.

Lady Lile's infamous estoc. It had been depicted as a shining, silver blade in the stories, but having now seen a starmetal sword, it was rightly a dark blade that seemed to dampen the light around it and was as long as Lady Lile was tall. It wasn't even bladed, but a triangular stem that thinned down to a wicked, needle-fine point. It had a crude, misshapen cross-hilt that made the weapon look wild, as if forged by the meteor impact alone rather than smithed.

Primrose's breath caught in her throat. The sword was said to be able to penetrate any armour, any shield, even castle walls. Some even claimed it could steal your soul, but while that was far fetched, being starmetal, it would be a great magnitude stronger than steel yet just as flexible, and never needed sharpening. By all accounts, once starmetal was forged, it could never be melted.

Lady Lile smiled and sheathed the dark sword as she said, “a shame, because Cuspid here is a two-third grade. I had hoped to have some fun with her for once, but I suppose I'll have to make do. It simply wouldn't do to destroy your blade when I do want it in my collection.” She drew the final blade, a brighter and shinier sword. A steel rapier with an elaborate basket hilt, and likely the one Prim had read in the Lady Lile tales.

“Are you quite done?” Jacob grumbled.

The master of the highwaymen gave a final flourish and her crew all retreated a respectable distance. Lady Lile then made a few practice thrusts and twirls with her weapon. She then pulled up a sturdy, plated apron that covered her exposed cleavage and buttoned it in place.

Finally, she turned to them, held the rapier toward them, and beckoned Jacob and his men with a gleeful grin.

Sahir and Jasper stepped aside to let Jacob storm ahead as they circled around.

Jacob raised Hellion and made a fast swing at Lady Lile's head.

The raothaar stepped with a dancer's grace to the side, rapier in a high guard let Jacob's blade slide harmlessly away. She then dived past Jacob, who spun to strike, but the attack whistled through the air.

Once on her feet, Lady Lile hopped at Jasper with a thrust of staggering speed.

Shield raised and sword pointed, Jasper looked poised to deflect and counter. She swatted at his shield, then rolled to the side at his return swing before Jacob or Sahir could get close.

Lady Lile's rapier thrust out of the roll and pierced through his armour like paper, puncturing his thigh. Jasper gasped and staggered, and as she stood, she kicked his wounded leg and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Sahir leapt over Jasper and Jacob rounded to put Lady Lile between them, and both swung in unison.

Lady Lile laughed as she twisted and pivoted, her rapier a silver flash as it clashed back and forth between their blades. Both men attacked with a flurry, yet she dipped low, to the side, back and forth; each expert step a hair's breadth from harm, yet the most Jacob managed was a deflection off of Lady Lile's armour from her nimble motions.

Together, their swings grew closer. Then closer still. Sahir's curved blade forced a hard parry from Lady Lile's sword and caught it in a bind, and Jacob thrust Hellion at her back.

She dropped her rapier as Jacob cut into her shoulder, but she pushed toward Jacob, hooked an arm around Jacob's own and twisted. His momentum hurled him off balance and Hellion fell to the ground. Sahir didn't waste the drastic move and made a killing swing at her head.

Lady Lile spun, but wasn't fast enough; Sahir's sword cut through her coif and sent coins in a wild spray, but she continued her spin, sliding on her knees and pulling Hellion off the ground, and cut Sahir on his side. It wasn't deep, but he reeled and stepped back on the defensive, then stumbled over the fallen Jasper.

Jacob stood and grimaced as Lady Lile wiped her wrist on her cut cheek, then examined Hellion with a smile. “Not bad.”

Primrose panicked; Jacob was vulnerable, but what could she do? Six crossbowmen and five swordsmen had Jasper and Sahir at their mercy, and there was no way she could get to Jacob without being spotted.

Then Lady Lile threw Hellion back to Jacob and picked up her rapier. “Yes, not bad... exceptional fun,” she giggled and her smile turned feral. “But I want satisfaction! More!!”

Jacob pointed Hellion at her and paced away from Sahir and Jasper to lure Lady Lile away, and she gladly followed. They then squared off again.

They feinted back and forth; Jacob took a half swing, but she countered and forced him to parry. His next feint dropped and knocked aside her rapier. Then she flourished her sword and forced Jacob into dropping his stance low and his sword outstretched to keep her at bay. They turned, twisted. It was a waltz backed by clashing metal.

Jacob lost his patience, but didn't drop his control; he began an aggressive assault of swings, a mix of feints and real lunges.

Lady Lile effortlessly caught and countered the first barrage, but Jacob kept pace. Then he started throwing harder swings that revealed he was the stronger of the two; his heavier blade and mass knocked Lady Lile's footing off more than once, and even though she caught herself each time, she was unable to counter before he sent another swing, or disengaged to draw her out.

Both combatants were breathing hard but Jacob pressed another attack. A series of swings from the left with light counter-swings.

Lady Lile disengaged, flipped to one side then thrust forward.

Jacob brushed the thrust aside and caught her sword arm, then locked it against his side and moved to slice her neck.

She kicked out his leg, cried out as Jacob's stumble wrenched her arm, but she followed the move, dropped her sword and caught it in her off-hand. Jacob let her go to catch his balance, but spun and she took a swing as he caught his footing.

The blow clashed with Hellion. The keen starmetal sank into the thin rapier and left a deep gouge as the two stepped away and raised their guards.

After a few seconds of rapid breaths, Lady Lile disengaged further and relaxed. She rolled her shoulders and winced as she shook her jarred arm. “Sir Falkshire, right?”

Jacob said nothing, but nodded and remained on guard.

“My respect to you, sir,” Lady Lile said, and made a quick, half-hearted salute. The motion drew a wince thanks to her jarred elbow and sliced shoulder. “Few have lasted against me, let alone caused me pain. I don't suppose you're willing to join my crew? I could use a good second-in-command and it would be such a waste to kill you.”

Jacob huffed and shook his head. “Shut up and pray for a swift death, you filth. I didn't save Bralran from Vliechov just to leave the land open to scum like you.”

“Is that the sort of hostility you knights are supposed to display?” Lady Lile shrugged. “You sound more like a squire than the affable-in-war knight of the realm ought to behave.”

“Enough prattling!” Jacob charged once more.

Lady Lile rushed in as well and shouted, “that temper will get you killed!”

Their weapons clashed. And again. Then a third time.

Then she made a mistake; she swung her rapier in an underside chop. An impractical move.

Jacob swung low and caught the swing. The damaged rapier snapped in two.

Except it wasn't a mistake.

The broken blade tip flew at Jacob's face and cut his cheek. He flinched and turned his head and Lady Lile stabbed the rapier's stump into Jacob's stomach.

“No!” Primrose cried out as Jacob stumbled back and fell to one knee.

Jacob clutched the wound as Lady Lile picked up the rest of the snapped rapier and moved in for the kill, but he lashed out again with a wide swing. She leapt over the blade and kicked Jacob in the face. He fell on his back from the impact, and Lady Lile jumped again and landed hard on his wounded gut. Jacob's final attempt to fend her off was met with a rapier tip to his forearm.

He snarled in pain. Hellion fell to the ground.

Lady Lile plucked it up and raised the sword, triumphant.

Gretchen's bowstring thrummed and an arrow loosed.

It went just wide of Lady Lile, who yelled, “take'er out!”

A barrage of crossbow bolts hailed into the carriage as it rocked and Gretchen used it for cover. She stood no chance. Neither did Prim. It was over.

Primrose couldn't breathe. What could she do!?

Something. Anything. She needed to act.

Her vision blurred. Her hands trembled. She needed to get there.

Her heart throbbed, then suddenly grew calm. Slow. Steady.

Yes. She needed to.

“Behold!” Lady Lile cried out and stood on Jacob's fallen form, a foot on his head. “Even Bralran's best falls before me!”

Primrose flinched as a blade entered her view. It took her a moment to realise she was holding Noran's Tooth. Her hand clenched around the fire blackened handle, the sharp, simple iron blade glinted. Her eyes twitched. She felt cold.

Yet she stopped shivering.

Lady Lile turned Hellion over and held the hilt in both hands, blade poised at Jacob's chest. “You've been a good sport, despite your ignoble tongue! I abhor senseless killing, but you took the lives of two of my men and I'll take my toll in blood! So, your life, or those of your men!?”

She sucked in one last breath.

She needed to get there.

The highwaymen had crossbows.

Men with swords would protect their leader from an assault.

A plan.

A scheme.

Something daring.

No barrier too thick.

No armour too strong.

No number indivisible.

It would get where it needed to.

She twisted the handle of the carriage door.

She kicked it open.

A distraction and a lure.

She dived through the other door.

Gretchen said something, reached for her.

She couldn't hear.

She couldn't be touched.

She darted for the brush.

The shadows embraced her.

The carriage door slammed open. The highwaymen all flinched and raised their crossbows, others drew steel. The door swung to and fro, but nobody emerged. Then scattered birds drew their eye before they looked at each other, confused.

Lady Lile squinted at the carriage, then either side. It seemed clear. “Doell, Ivarsen, tie up those two,” she gestured to Jasper and Sahir, who grimaced at the number of guards with crossbows trained on them. “The rest of you, go check it out. I don't want anyone raining on my parade. If it's that one legged bitch, don't pull any punches but try to take her alive.”

Four approached and spread out to cover more ground, each with their weapon poised for an ambush, pointed out to resist a charge. It wasn't the first time someone had fled a carriage. Nobles, armed with knives and cornered like a wounded rat, weren't a threat but that didn't stop them from savage, suicidal attacks when desperate.

They splayed out. One moved behind a tree as the others kept watching the grass. He kept wide, then walked beside the thick tree. He then leaned against it, as if resting.

His nearest companion barked, “oi, Rob, keep movin'!”

Nothing. Rob remained still.

His companion broke the line and stormed up to Rob. “I said, keep movin'!”

A firm push. Rob turned and fell on his back. One eye was rolled back in his head, the other punctured and gone. His sword was missing.

The highwayman stepped back and gasped, sucked in a breath. A rustle. A cold feeling in his body. A bloody blade run through his back and out his chest. He coughed and whimpered just loud enough that the other highwaymen looked across as he collapsed.

“Shit!” one cried out.

“What in Phoebe's tits...” Lady Lile stepped off of Jacob. She eyed the fallen and peered into the brush as her men started to panic. “Everyone, together! Watch your backs!”

The grass moved like a small wave toward Lady Lile. A blue spark in the long shadowy green, then something flew at her. She deflected it, a knife which rung out as it flew overhead and into the grass behind her. It took her off balance, but she recovered and held her sword towards the projectile's origin and rushed in, ready to swing.

Nothing. Just a low breeze and waving grass.

Lady Lile stepped back from the edge of the road and looked around. “Where are you!?” she screamed. Then beckoned to her men. “To me! Rally round!”

With Jasper and Sahir bound, Doell and Ivarsen joined the last two swordsmen and took position near Lady Lile. They slowly backed up the road towards their companions.

The crossbowmen kept their aims steady as they scouted across. One of them watched a fly land on his sights. He swept his hand across to swat the pest.

A figure darted from one side of the road to the other. Something dark, squat. Like a beast.

“What the fuck was that!?” he screamed and pointed his weapon at... whatever it was that flickered across his vision, but it was gone. Just long shadows on dancing foliage. “Chief, it's on the other side!”

Lady Lile turned and faced the right side of the pass, and her guard looked up and down the fringe. “I said come out! This is your last bloody chance!”

The crossbowman felt a flutter of air behind him. Sweat, or that fly again. He tried to move his hand, but his arms fell limp. His body went numb from below his neck and he collapsed like a felled tree. He couldn't breathe. As he flopped, the man to his right gurgled and clutched a slit throat. The man on the other side screamed as his legs were cut from beneath him and a grey, crude blade was drawn along his neck.

The last thing the man saw as his vision faded, was two piercing blue eyes. Vengeful flame, as blue as the sky, but surrounded by a shadowy form.

One of the remaining crossbowmen spotted and aimed at the figure, which hunkered low and feral. It had a muzzle, wickedly sharp teeth and a blade in its hand. It was a fluttering silhouette of dark brown and subdued green swirled and flowed like smoke. Tendrils of black reached for the grass behind it, as if it beckoned into the brush. He loosed a bolt, and it dodged and dived back into cover.

He staggered back and bumped into the other remaining marksman. He spun to his companion and whispered, “it's a damn demon! We're cursed! Six preserve us!”

“Fuck this!”

The two broke their line and ran as their wounded fellow bled out and the other three collapsed.

Lady Lile called out, “get back here, you cowards! Alright, that's it. Come out or I'll kill the knight!”

Her last four underlings surrounded her and she once more pointed Hellion at the fallen Jacob. Lady Lile clenched her teeth and she listened. The gentle clink of armour from her men. Their ragged breathing. Two were in a panic, two were more seasoned and calm. Her ears twitched and pivoted about and her tail flowed as she risked a glance at the fallen Jacob, then at the confused Sahir and Jasper. Just what was this thing? What unholy sorcery?

“There!”

Everyone turned as Doell fell with an arterial spray. The figure wasn't hiding any more. It stood and looked at Lady Lile. The shadowy tendrils burned away. It was a raothaar, and a short one, brown fur and dull, dark clothing. A curvy female ratfolk with glowing blue eyes. Despite the sunlight, darkness still fluttered around her like a cloak.

And a glistening, gory blade in her hand.

One of the panicked highwaymen flailed his blade at the figure, which dipped low and darted at him. “Get awa-!”

A knife into his ribs. She drew the blade down his belly and spilled his guts.

Then it shoved the wounded man at Ivarsen, who stumbled from the impact and the figure rushed in, climbed over the dying man and plunged the knife into Ivarsen's skull, then leapt off of him.

Lady Lile cried, “Ivarsen!” Sorrow turned to rage. “Get her! With me”

But the last two fled as fast as their legs could carry them.

She didn't have a chance to call out their cowardice as the murderous woman charged. Lady Lile gasped and swung Hellion.

The sword was parried with the phantom's knife as casually as swatting a bug. The heavy vibration sent the sword from Lady Lile's grip.

The figure dived in and Lady Lile raised her arms in defence and blocked the knife, a graze that cut through her bracer. She stumbled, but couldn't recover in time as the the demonic ratfolk forced Lady Lile to the ground and straddled her with knife raised and her other hand gripping her collar.

Lady Lile just looked into her foe's burning, hateful eyes and screamed in raw fear. Her hands pawed at the figure, tried to shove or grab and pull her off, but panic stole her strength and skill. She was helpless. The woman yanked off Lady Lile's coin coif.

Tears now mixed with her bloody cheek as Lady Lile cried, “no! Please!! I don't wanna die!”

The attacker hesitated. Her head tilted as though confused. The burning blue eyes flickered and faded to a light brown as Lady Lile shut her own.

She clasped her quaking hands and prayed in a childish babble, “please d- delivew me from hawm. Please, St. Gaweg!”

Those words.

That flaw in her speech.

She remembered.

A tall, skinny raothaar girl.

Bruises visible on her hands from fighting.

Scars riddled the pale grey fur.

The chipped incisor.

That brilliant, cheeky grin.

She acted tough, but had the softest heart.

Sweeter than honey.

Always protecting her.

Always so happy to just be away from the others.

Away from those that mocked her speech impediment.

She loved her.

She always wanted a sister.

“Prudence?”

The highwaywoman blinked through the tears and whimpered, “what?”

Primrose, covered in blood, blinked and stared. “Pru?”

“R- Rosey? Primrose!? Is that you?”

“Do it! Put her down!” A voice. Jasper? It sounded so far away. An echo.

Primrose dropped Noran's Tooth. Her vision swam, then went dark. She was so tired.

And all went black.

* * * *