By the time Emilia had finished her morning training the Lord and Lady of Mecia had already arrived. Being the youngest current Lord, the importance of looking into where his loyalty lies was stressed to Emilia by Landervik. Due to her recent involvement in castle affairs regarding protection and detection measures, Emilia's training had been shortened to only a few hours in the morning. He also had begun avoiding facial bruises considering her appearance would now be of a little more importance. She was grateful since showing up to pubs battered, while somewhat intimidating, brought more attention than she needed.
Pub Hopping was no longer a viable option for information, Emilia thought as she trekked down the cavernous halls to the Eastern wing. Too much gossip had spread, making the pubs epicenters for ‘he said, she said’’s and an influx of false rumours. She needed reliable information or Landervik would make their short training times seem five times their length. Also, she was tired of rummaging through loads of gossip to find little truths.
Emilia walked through the bustling kitchen as they prepared lunch for the royals and their guests, amid the chaos no one bat an eye at her. She snagged a loaf of bread alongside some cheese off of a platter. At first she felt kind of like an asshole, but then Emilia realized only assholes would be eating this food so it didn’t matter.
As she chomped down on her makeshift meal Emilia decided to mingle with the Lady of Mercia. She was young, married to a not much older Lord, and was often kept around the Lord during many aspects of their stay at the castle. Based on body language, it wasn’t hard for Emilia to deduce trust and, surprisingly, a marriage out of love. She would be the easiest target for Emilia and figuring out their stance on any and all political issues. The only issue would be getting the two of them apart long enough to question her, considering she's only left his side when absolutely required to. Emilia also needed to tone down her animosity and her… as some have called it… resting bitch face. Scars, a roughly set face, and being known as an outcast to the throne turned anyone away at a glance.
Nonetheless she knew where to find her today, alone. The king had called to meet all the Lords before lunch to discuss some issues regarding validating knight-ship, making it abundantly clear that the Ladies were not to be in their presence. Many found themselves occupied with tea time in the Eastern courtyard but, based on previously recorded actions, Emilia knew the Lady of Mercia would be in the royal library.
So she headed there now, backtracking down the Eastern wing to the library. She put on her most approachable face and turned into the library, spotting the Lady of Mercia perched on a bay window on the other side of the library. Emilia couldn’t help but feel shocked at how in place the girl looked, which she was just a girl. She didn’t look a day over 19, the sunlight reflected off of her dark brown skin; illuminating just how smooth her skin was. Emilia approached her quietly, keeping up the “approachable” look.
The Lady turned to view who was coming up, her tiny bunch of curls shaking at the sudden motion. She smiled recognizing Emilia but soon her face took upon itself a look of confusion.
“My princess, are you feeling alright?” She gestured towards her face, “You look like you’re hurting…”
Emilia was embarrassed by this and decided it’d be better if she didn’t contort her face any longer, “It was just the… sunlight..”
An awkward silence involved the two momentarily until Emilia spoke again.
“Never mind that, I came to get a book but was surprised to see you here,” Emilia wasn’t really but continued, “and not with the other Ladies in the courtyard.”
“Ah,” Her eyes lit up at the conversation starter, “well I was just reading this novel about moral ambiguity in leaders and it just has the most interesting take on a system of punishment and when effectiveness is challenged by humanity.” The Lady talked as if it had been the most interesting thing she’d heard in years.
“Reading up for a future as a Lady, even if you won’t really be involved in much, if any, decision making?” She looked offended, Emilia knew she’d taken the bait.
“Percival is not like any Lords of the past, we know the importance of dual rule and being equals.”
“Not too dual if your Lord is all alone with all of the other Lords and King.”
“I’m sorry but what is your quarrel with me? I respect your status but I know the power of the crown, you have little right to come and pick fights; I’m sure His and Her Highness do not appreciate your attitude.”
“Chirpy are we,” Emilia couldn’t help but settle into a cocky grin, “and what of the crown's power? Awfully bold of you to be talking about the inferiority of your superior, is it not?”
The Lady looked a bit irritated but left off with a little comment before returning back to her book, “Awfully bold of you to be talking up your size when asking for assistance with battle you cannot fuel.”
She turned back to her book, unbothered by the irritation that began to show on Emilia's face. It took everything in Emilia to not knock her book on the floor and provoke her further, give her more so that her rage of pride and insufficient answers would subside. Her anger was cut short by the arrival of the Lord of Mercia at the entrance that she could see over her shoulder. Emilia turned and continued out of the library, not bothering to hide the irritation that laid thick in her facial pores despite the Lord's quizzical looks. They must’ve let out earlier than expected.
As she was turning out the entrance Emilia spared a look at the Lord and Lady. They had leaned in close, sparring looks at Emilia as they discussed. Emilia continued though, if anything this only infuriated her as it furthered more people on the list of suspects. Once Landervik found out about her failures he would surely give her more time for searching, but not without turning her next training into just punishment.
Emilia's fingers itched for something, mindless sex wasn’t exactly available in the castle; especially since her preference lingered on something that is meant to be kept on the down low. Since drinking or smoking was detectable and only hindered her there was not much else left. She was left with anger on the surface and… something else beneath.
Instead of dwelling she made her way to the dungeons where sparring partners would most likely be; she could lie to Landervik and claim that she felt her hand to hand combat lacking with the lack of training. Punching the shit out of someone would have to work, so Emilia headed back down into the dungeons.
-----------------------
The descent into darkness would always make Emilia’s body feel betrayed as she continued down. She should be terrified to go down here, based on what’s been done to her in the secrecy of these caverns; but she wasn’t. Or at least she wouldn’t let herself be, fear was taught to be driven away, an emotion that was off limits alongside the countless others. The air thickened as the caverns strayed from daylight and switched to candlelight. Stones of various shapes and sizes were pieced together along the floors, walls, and roofing.
As Emilia went past the entry training room, she began tying her hair from a long middle part into a tight not for security. Since the other spys only stayed here at night to ensure security most of the cavern had been empty, but as she got further back into the side training rooms she began to hear the chatter of the soldiers. She began to take off the outer skirt of her dress that was tucked into a custom fold in the upper body area, revealing tight pants that matched the blood red top of her outfit. Emilia thought it to be ridiculous but Landervik ensured that she needed to be ready to mobilize for contact at any time, even when she was wearing her princess front during these days. She also began taking her various daggers that were hidden in almost all areas of her outfit out. Not a lot of people wanted to fight her already and knowing that she was armed and ready if her temper flared did not make them anymore susceptible.
The training room that veered left sounded the most full, Emilia followed the stench of sweat and blood, anticipating a good brawl. When she entered the room she encountered at least 7 or 8 soldiers hanging by the walls while a 2 were in the center battling it out. It happened to be the older soldiers here, ones that grew up fighting Emilia and could match her combat. Despite their time together Emilia refused to remember their names or faces on a deeper basis, settling with familiar traits and characterizations of her comrades. She was taught at a young age not to assimilate with these kids, that she was different.
She didn’t realize how different until she noticed the other kids training with hard hits and bruises while Emilia would end nights psychologically numb with deep cuts and burns. Thinking of this she instinctively put her hand over her stomach where a large patch of her skin was tattered with third degree burns; since a burn was used as a warning.
She quickly withdrew her hand, finding her childish triggers embarrassing. Quickly, she started wrapping tape to protect her knuckles since hands weren’t easy to hide. One of the faces came up to her and asked to spar, considering it’d been a few weeks since she’s had group combat training. Emilia agreed and asked them not to leave anything too noticeable on her face, Landervik’s request. They nodded in agreement and headed to the center, Emilia was not far behind.
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