Emilia emerged from the dungeons dripping from the water used to clean up her blood, fresh bruises lined her arms, abdomen, and legs. She squinted her eyes, preparing to adjust to the light, but only saw darkness. She still never would get used to telling time when in those dungeons, time was measured in pain. She walked briskly down the hallway, eyes resting in a glare to avoid greetings from servants.
Her training had always been brutal, since they began with fighting at age 6. They decided she would be of a good age to learn to deal with mentally accepting the torture that would pursue, she was previously perishable but she had soon become an investment. Anything happening to her would be an inconvenience, and an expensive one. They first taught her how to fight dirty, using anything to her will and eventually taught her impeccable technique and how much a sharp dagger could do to a person. Of course she had to experience it all first to understand emotionally how the kingdoms enemies would soon feel one day, under her hand.
Emilia kept walking but instead of turning towards the west wing to retire to bed, despite how much her sore muscles begged for it, Emilia headed east towards the library. Every Lord in the lands of Sernient would soon be on a visit in this castle accompanied by wives and guards, all a danger. Emilia foresaw her impending assignment, why training had been so cruel recently, preparing her for the best knights in the lands. Protecting the King and ensuring peace between the Lords would not be an easy task.
Emilia searched through the dimly lit shelves lined with thousands of books, looking for any records of feudal wars, alliances, or even romantic relations. Her job involves understanding the balance between practical and emotional in each Lord; who they were, what they did, and how they felt. She stopped on a bright red book surrounded by other large dusty record books. Emilia assumed it had been recently opened to add the vikings attack and took it off the shelf, grabbing a few other similar record books.
Nestling into a corner of the library she began to look at the records, taking various intricate notes. While literacy rates were low even among women in higher classes, Emilia was taught all necessary to prepare oneself in information digging. She soon became enveloped and absorbed all sufficient information she found.
She was drawn from her notes with a loud crash coming from a few shelves in front of her. Emilia stopped dead still, avoiding the scratches of her quill. Hurried whispers gradually grew louder.
“You can’t understand the weight this puts on me,” a deep voice said.
“You want to pity yourself? Fine, but do not jeopardize things much bigger than you or me for that matter. You lost the right to individualize yourself when you took your gains and fell in line.” The other voice was harsher but higher, more feminine.
As they fell into a tense silence Emilia stealthily slid onto the other side of the shelf, looking to see their faces. She didn’t exactly understand what was happening, or if this could be a lover quarrel about cheating, but something about having this conversation in the royal library with little access struck her as wrong.
The voices didn’t pick back up, Emilia heard one of them stomp away and the other follow in pursuit. Quickly, she stacked her books and shoved her notes in between pages. She slid out of her shoes to avoid the pitter-patter and hurried through the shelves.
At the door of the library she peeked through the crack to see a man and woman strolling down the hall together. Before Emilia could see anything conclusive they turned a corner, instinctively she followed in pursuit but was abruptly stopped when she heard more in conversation with the two.
She greedily looked around the corner, taking note of the tall blonde woman and an old rounded man conversing with servants. And it was all she needed, she turned back towards the library. The Lord and Lady of Impetus, they’d arrived last night with two personal knights and one for show.
So far they’d been the first to arrive since they mandated the lands closest to the palace making it only an hour or two’s worth of a trip. Emilia noted them immediately as a prioritized threat, large power means even larger greed, there have been numerous attempts from their lands to demean and diminish the throne. Both the Lord and Lady were enveloped in the greedy side of politics and, proved to Emilia in the library, the Lady was a strategist and played constantly at power. Emilia couldn’t help but to admire her, power was tempting, especially for people who’ve been deprived of it from the start.
Emilia made her way back to the library to reluctantly continue with research before it reached midnight, when she would be onto her next task.
-----------------------
As a spy and warrior for the Kingdom Emilia’s days were long, they did not begin and end with training. Instead of changing into night clothes when Emilia arrived back in her room, she reached into the back of her wardrobe for a cotton under dress covered by weak red overdress that went as a corset to a length gown. She opted for going in cheaply woven leather shoes and a thick woolly cloak as accessories.
This night would be perfect for information at the towns pubs, various locals gossip in avoidance of ugly wives and starving children. Emilia was not exactly instructed to go on these excursions but she was told to know all that could affect the kingdom, and peasants gossip held a little more truth than credited for.
Emilia pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, enough to cover her face, and climbed out of her window descending down the windowsill to the cold wet grass. The water seeped into her cheap shoes as Emilia headed towards the thick forest front where the path to the town lay. The cold of the night was almost comforting with the fresh chill of each breath and the openness of it all, it let her breath free for a little while.
After a mile hike Emilia began to see torchlight adorning each side of the dirt path and the loud chatter of people. The sight of a bustling town is like no other, Emilia couldn’t help but think, with it’s balanced chaos. Wooden stalls sat on either side of the now turning into pebbled path, each with steam rising in the cold air from hot buns or freshly cooked sausage. Crowded winding houses began to fill Emilia’s view and she knew she was close; not long after she turned into a crowded ally and headed into the familiar “Pig’s Head”. She brushed past a few men lazing on the railings, too drunk to stand properly; the smell of piss and gin filled Emilia’s nostrils.
“William get in here!” A stout man yelled as Emilia entered, “Margery is here!”
Emilia recognized the little man as one of the two barkeeps, Henry. The crowded pub didn’t slow to see her as Emilia walked towards the bar, even though women very rarely came in alone and without a revealing dress, they knew she was not one to stare at for too long. She dodged large parties of men, occasionally passing around a woman, under the dimly lit candles on the metal chandeliers.
“Henry, did you hear the news?” Emilia smirked as she sauntered into a bar stool in front of Henry, the old wood creaking against her muscular build.
“Damn straight I did,” Henry said while wiping glasses, “hell the news got to everyone within hours, vikings on our shores. It’s a crazy thing.” He exhaled through his nostrils.
“Then you know what I’m here for.” Emilia's smirk died against the shadow her hood cast upon her.
Henry tensed, setting down the glass he was wiping, and leaned against the bar. “Look Marge, you know a viking sympathizer isn’t gonna be in my bar.”
Emilia narrowed her eyes, “And look here Henry, do I look like I want to beat around the bush today? Or like I don’t know that information is spread by a third party?”
Henry looked a little annoyed, but too frightened to act upon it. “I don’t know any names but-”, Emilia cut him off with the flash of a dagger under her forearm that rested on the bar, “I-I’m serious, all I heard was that some of the Southern Lands have been in cahoots with the vikings.”
“Are you sure that you don't know any names?” Emilia said, grip tightening on her dagger; Henry paled.
“Yes, you can talk with William but I doubt he has any more to share,” Henry grumbled as he went back to pouring ale for others at the bar. Emilia took this as it was and slid her dagger back into a sewn in pocket hidden in her dress. Her eyes scanned the pub for William and instead landed on a frail lady held tightly in the grasps of a burly drunken man.
She got up and stalked across the pub, eyeing her prey. The man held the woman's waist in his grip with one arm, the other waving around his ale. Emilia approached the man and took the glass from his hands, promptly smashing it against his head. The woman shrieked and covered her face while the people cheered at the violence. The man staggered back and forth before slumping to the floor, causing another cheer to erupt.
Emilia sidled up next to the woman, brushing the broken glass out of her hair, purposefully letting her touch linger on her fingers. The woman looked up at her like a confused puppy, Emilia practically licked her lips.
“My apologies miss, on behalf of this drunkard who handled you like cattle,” Emilia said gently stroking her hair, “care for a drink?” The woman looked confused at the offer but nodded slowly.
“I, well, I would like that.” The woman said as Emilia guided her towards the bar with a hand on her lower back, the woman curling with it.
“Henry! Two ales, one for the lady,” the woman blushed as Emilia eyed her, “and one for me.” Henry approached their side of the bar reluctantly, and began filling up two new glasses.
“Isn’t this your 6th-” Henry’s eyes darted from Emilia to the woman, “ale this week.” Emilia smirked at this.
“Hopefully, if you would pour a little quicker.” Emilia downed her drink as it was passed across the bar and turned back to the woman, hoping to have at least one successful thing this night. Whether it applied to her job or not.
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