kurtherian gambit 23.7 - tales of feisty druid 07 Read online

  Even the two hundred or so chairs in the audience had been put together with more effort. Her husband's chair was everything one would imagine a vigilante throne to be. The back of it was as tall as any man standing next to it, and the seat was wide enough to accommodate Locke and no less than two women, which were often present, even in front of Esmerelda.

  It was a physical reminder of exactly how important he was, and how unimportant she, and every other woman around, were.

  Johnson was already standing at the front of the tent, not daring to sit in Locke’s vacated seat, out of respect—but she wasn't prepared to do any such thing.

  Completely ignoring the spot that was once hers, she sauntered across the space with nothing shy of a confident gait before sitting in the throne, crossing her legs, and laying her hands on the armrests of the chair—though she had to reach a little.

  There were several gasps, and then whispers as the men pointed and talked amongst themselves. Their brows furrowed angrily.

  "You shouldn't be here," Johnson said quietly to Esmerelda.

  She gave a bright smile, cocking her head to the side. "Actually, I believe it's you who shouldn't be up here. As much of a rotten bastard as he was, Locke is dead, and I am his widow."

  Johnson laughed, and several other men in the audience followed suit. Esmerelda only smiled as she watched them, willing them to keep their attention on her.

  As they savored their laughter and the joke that a woman would dare do such a thing in their midst, the slave girls were weaving through the aisles with mugs of ale in one hand, and their other hand free.

  "I'm afraid you are greatly mistaken. No woman will replace any man here—especially a man like Locke. You'd be wise to get your ass off that throne." Johnson was quite a bit more serious now, turning his body so he was fully facing her. The men in the audience began to reflect his shift in tone.

  From somewhere in the crowd, she heard a familiar shriek and knew one of the men had grabbed a woman. It happened every assembly, but this would certainly be the last time.

  Reaching down, but making sure not to break eye contact, Esmerelda put her hand in the pocket of her robe. Tucked inside, as requested, was a knife. With a flick of her thumb, she freed it from its sheath and pulled it from her pocket.

  Loosely holding onto the blade, she allowed the hilt to fall forward before flicking it back against her wrist, repeating the process several times as she smiled at the man standing before her.

  "Oh, Johnson. The winds of change are blowing and have been for a very long time—apparently you haven’t noticed. You can sit down now." She waved him off with her free hand, then turned her eyes away from him, coldly dismissing him.

  Without saying a word, Johnson balled up his fists and took two very heavy steps toward her.

  A knife to his abdomen stopped him cold.

  His eyes widened as he stared at her across the ten feet that separated them. She continued with her wicked smile, waving the now empty hand that once held the knife. She stood and slowly walked over then wrapped her hand around the hilt.

  "You see, a woman will take Locke’s place. I am that woman. Unfortunately, you won't get the chance to see just how great we become," she said, twisting the blade and pulling it free.

  Johnson’s hands struggled to cover the gaping wound in his stomach as he fell to his knees. Esmerelda looked out at the crowd. Her free hand was lightning fast as she gripped a handful of the man’s long, blonde hair. She yanked his head back and stabbed the blade through his throat.

  Then she pulled her knife free at an angle, opening the wound further. Blood sprayed everywhere, and she used his hair as leverage to toss him to the floor.

  Every man in the audience stared on with wide eyes, obviously enraged. There were several cries of anger, and they moved to surge forward, but the slaves were too fast.

  Every woman threw their knees or elbows into the guts or groins of the men they were standing next to before pulling hidden blades from what little clothing they were allowed to wear. Those knives immediately went to throats, holding steady as Esmerelda stood at the front with her glowing smile.

  "On your knees, gentlemen," Esmerelda said. "I’d hate for anything to happen to you, just when we have the opportunity to start such a beautiful friendship."

  There were only a few moments of hesitation before the men began dropping to their knees.

  The women widened their stances as they stood behind their targets, hands wrapped around hair with firm grips, while knives were placed firmly against carotid arteries.

  "You see, not only was my husband killed, but many of your friends were, as well. That leaves you slightly outnumbered. We have seen this coming for a long time; we have been preparing for such a wondrous day. Today, we reclaim our freedom. Today, we show you exactly the same courtesy you have always shown to us."

  Several of the men tried to argue, no doubt lashing out with wounded pride, but Esmerelda and her warrior goddesses were quick to stop it. With a wave of Esmerelda’s hand, the knives pressed harder, many drawing blood.

  "You will fight for me. You will win. You will do anything and everything that I tell you, and you will do so without fail. Because if you do fail me, I can promise the punishment for that treachery will be far worse than anything Locke could ever think of.

  “During our many years in Arcadia and our time out here, being unable to speak, beaten down if we dared to have an opinion, we've spent a lot of time locked in our heads, plotting exactly what to do when the time came.”

  She paused as she watched the fight fall away from the men’s faces. One by one, they were accepting what was happening—the shift of power, and exactly what it could mean if they didn’t go along with it.

  Esmerelda extended her hands out to her sides as she spoke again. "I will say this once, and you will obey and respect what I tell you, or you will die where you kneel. We have been degraded for the last time. We have been slapped, beaten, and raped for the last time. We have been lied to, cheated on, fucked over, and stolen from for the last time.

  “While you were busy training, using your Arcadian Guard techniques against one another, we were forced to stay on the sidelines, so you could grope us whenever you had the desire. While we brought you drinks and food, we were memorizing every move, and we practiced them every night while you slept.”

  She saw the exaggerated gulps of the men on their knees in the front row—fear from the men who could truly see the fire and insanity building in her eyes.

  “We are every bit as skilled as you are, and I can promise you that if I ever see you so much as raise a hand to any of these women again, I will castrate you myself, using the dullest knife I can possibly find. Now, as I said before, if you don't want to serve me, you don't have to. Walk away if you’d like, but you'll find a knife in your back if you do."

  To her surprise, several of them immediately lowered their eyes, showing the same subservience they had so recently forced from the women. Less to her surprise, there were men who tried to assert their dominance—prove they were stronger and faster—only to find their throats opened and bleeding out onto the ground beneath them.

  As the remaining, undecided men looked on, seeing just how strong the women had become, and how fast and capable they were, they very quickly lowered their eyes as well.

  Esmerelda smiled. "Ladies, they're all yours, to do with as you wish; just know that I expect them to live. We’ll need their numbers in the days to come. Past that, do as you like." Satisfied, she turned and made her way out of the tent.

  The Heights would be theirs, and she would be the queen that seized it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  For several days, Amelia had been working on something special for the city. She had set Waylon to one task, while the Academy was working on another. While the citizens were well aware something was going on, the majority had no idea what that was.

  Nathaniel, the Cellan governor’s son, had arrived, and was flourishing, just
in the short time he had been there. Not only had he surpassed the basic magic class, thanks to his father teaching him along the way, he had tested in at the top of the intermediate magic class, and the top of the most advanced combat class. He had even offered to teach some of the combat class.

  While he was still a student himself back in Cella, in Arcadia, he was more than qualified to teach the basic hand-to-hand combat courses now offered in the Academy. Even the civilians thought so.

  Soon, the governor of Cella would be arriving to visit his son and Amelia and check on the city. While he had no claim and held no responsibility to Arcadia, he and Amelia had become great friends. She knew just how close he felt to the city, having fled there during his time of need and eventually fought for its freedom from the mystics.

  She wanted to pay them back by doing more than just honoring their agreement. She wanted to do something special for him, for the Arcadian people, and put on a spectacle they could all enjoy together.

  She had recently received notice from Arryn and Cathillian that they’d been successful in the forest. Now that the dark druids had been dealt with, the pair planned to head south to deal with the bandit problem. Amelia took delight in sharing this with the rearick brothers, who had been quite concerned for the safety of their people.

  While Amelia hated sending Arryn and Cathillian to do her work—or at least, what she felt was her work—she took solace in knowing that the city needed her to stay close, able to react at a moment's notice if anything terrible were to happen.

  As Amelia rounded the corner of a large, noble home, making her way toward the Boulevard, she smiled, and her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sights before her.

  Children were running around and playing, spraying water at each other with small, pressurized devices. They screamed and laughed as they dodged one another's attacks.

  The air had grown chilly as autumn began to set in. According to the rearick, it had already begun snowing in their small town in the mountains. Winter would soon be upon them again; Amelia couldn’t believe just how much time had passed since their fight with Adrien.

  She arrived at the Boulevard and saw a bright red ribbon, strung from the corner of one building to the corner of another across the street. She couldn't believe her eyes.

  "Amelia," Marie greeted her, a large smile on her face. "The governor has arrived, and everyone is ready. What would you have me do?"

  Amelia took in the chaos around them. Everyone from the Academy was inside the Boulevard, awaiting instructions. Outside the red ribbon, the citizens waited to hear her news.

  "Have the guards announce that the event is about to begin, then send Andrew to bring the governor back here; there's a spot reserved up front for him."

  Marie smiled again and gave a curt nod before turning to do as she was asked. Delegation was something she was still learning, and it would take time for her to get the hang of it, but Amelia believed she was doing well enough.

  The position of Chancellor suited her.

  Ducking behind some buildings so she wasn't stopped by anyone, she snuck into the Boulevard. She moved past several houses before finding the group of students she was looking for.

  Wives, mothers, and tailors in the city had worked hard to create a movable, breathable uniform that was easy for the students to train in. The guard had their own uniforms for training that differed from the ones they wore while on duty, but they were still rugged.

  That had been in case the worst were to happen. If they were in a training session and there was an attack or anything that may require their immediate attention, they wouldn't have to change clothes, only grab weapons.

  The Academy students wouldn't have anything like that to worry about. Therefore, their uniforms were lighter for easy movement and reduced heat.

  Beginning students, who had very little to no former training at all, wore white.

  The intermediate students, those that had previous training during the Battle for Arcadia, all wore brown.

  The advanced students, those who had trained during the Battle for Arcadia and those who grew up in the Boulevard learning how to fight, all wore black.

  "Is everything ready?" Nathaniel asked with a smile, straightening the top of his black uniform.

  Amelia nodded. "Everything's ready, and the guards are rounding everyone up right now. Your father is on his way from the front gates. He came in later than I thought. I expected him to arrive last night, but I'm kind of glad he didn't; he might have caught wind of what was happening if he had arrived any sooner."

  "I would have been just as disappointed as you. You know how hard I had to work to keep this from him? He has excellent intuition," he said.

  Amelia laughed and nodded. "Oh, I bet he does. He's a very smart man. Okay, get everyone in line and ready. I'm going up to the front to watch for your father. Once he arrives, I'll begin my speech. Wait for my signal."

  She began to make her way to the front of the Boulevard, making sure to stay behind the red line. She smiled back at everyone as they waved and smiled at her, some even shouting her name.

  Within a few moments, the guard escort arrived at the front row with the governor of Cella in tow.

  Once the governor was in place, Amelia gave him a nod of respect before raising her hands, signaling for everyone to quiet down. Everyone quickly acquiesced, and only the occasional cough or throat clear was audible.

  "Before we kick things off, I would like to give a heartfelt welcome to the governor of Cella. Without him, today would not have been possible." Amelia's eyes lingered on the governor for a few moments as he smiled warmly in her direction. She returned his smile before once again addressing the crowd.

  "As you all know, the governor has been kind enough to train our guards, which he continues to do. We are building a stronger city. Not only is our army strengthening, but so are our citizens.

  "This red ribbon in front of me symbolizes the gateway to a brand-new life for every Boulevard native—and, in turn, for Arcadia. Today, some of what has been taken from you is given back, so we can all move forward. Together!”

  Everyone cheered for a moment before quieting again.

  Amelia continued. “On behalf of our city, I say thank you to the governor of Cella for supplying the men, as well as some of the resources, necessary to rebuild. Thank you for defending us in our time of need, and for the training you have given our guards to defend us in the future. Thank you for lending a hand to make our city a more independent place."

  The citizens erupted in cheers and screams of excitement. The governor seemed touched by the display, as he just smiled and waved to the people, a blush on his cheeks.

  Amelia once again held up her hands, and the crowd quieted, though she could plainly see the excitement still on their faces. "Before I cut this ribbon, freeing you all to explore your new homes, I want to introduce everyone to the students of the Arcadian Academy, who show us just what equality looks like. What an education looks like in the new Arcadia!"

  She began to clap, and everyone in the crowd followed suit as the students in the basic combat classes rounded the corner of the building. They were dressed in white and stepping out into the street, heading toward the ribbon. Behind them were the intermediate students, wearing brown, and then came those in the advanced class, clad in black.

  Amelia stepped out of the way as the members of the basics class stepped up, walking in unison, and then broke off in pairs. The basics class was comprised mostly of noble students of various ages and Boulevard students in their early teens. This was the largest class.

  Several parents in the audience gasped, their hands over their mouths as they smiled. Clearly, they hadn't expected what they were seeing; that meant the students had indeed kept their mouths shut. Amelia had gotten her wish for this all to be a surprise.

  With a call from Nathaniel in the back, the students began to spar.

  Because of their skill level, they were still unable to throw punc
hes full force. They also did not have the ability to block yet. Because of that, their sparring looked more like a dance, a choreography of blows—one student throwing a punch as the other moved back, then rounding with a kick as the other ducked down.

  Every movement had been well taught and was precise on both sides. With more practice, Amelia knew they would be able to speed those movements up and would soon be skilled enough to dodge a real punch and block a true kick.

  Everyone clapped and cheered as the basics students backed away from one another and bowed to the crowd.

  Next, the intermediate students stepped forward. The majority of this group were Boulevard students, so the crowd was even more engaged. The Bitch’s Boulevard citizens loved and supported anything having to do with their kids being in the Academy. Seeing them not only as students, but as being accepted and treated as equal was new for them, and certainly something to be proud of.

  Another call from Nathaniel, and the group began sparring, just as the basics class had, only these students were more disciplined.

  A couple of punches landed, but for those who grew up in the Boulevard, things were tough, so its residents were tougher. The blows rolled right off like nothing happened. Amelia was impressed, and the crowd was even more so.

  When those students backed away, and the students clad in black stepped up, all but a couple were Boulevard students. As the smallest group, the students broke off into three groups of three, engaging in group fighting instead of one-on-one combat.

  Nathaniel led this group, and his father beamed with pride from the front of the crowd. The governor, Amelia, and everyone else watched as the students began to fight one another.

  It reminded Amelia quite a bit of the way the druids trained in the Dark Forest. They didn't have expert healers here, though there were a few people in the city who had learned the most basic version of the skill thanks to Arryn and Cathillian.