The resounding clash of metal echoed through the air as blade met blade in a rhythmic dance. Yet, the atmosphere on deck varied. There were three distinct groups: those who observed the movement of the swords and their wielders with rapt attention; those who tended to duties still to be realized; and finally, those who, with nothing better to do, engaged in hushed shatter, glancing sparingly towards the unfolding face-off.
Of that third group, some were more successful than others to get away with paying no attention. “Do you think we’re still far off? I’m tired of being at sea.” A maid on the outer side of the makeshift dual zone sighed.
“I spoke to one of the sailors.” the maid on her right chided in. “He said we’ll set anchor soon.”
“Oh, I can’t wait. I heard you can taste food from around the world there.” the rounder woman said, dreamingly.
“You only think about food, Byungsoo. At this rate, you’ll never find a husband.” her friend chastised her.
Seemingly offended, Byungsoo was quick to counter. “What would you do then?”
“Well, I-”
“Oh, stop talking about that godforsaken place.” the older woman out of the three cut her off. “Rumors have it that island's infested with all kinds of beasts and monsters, cursed by the three Mothers. I, for one, don’t plan on exploring beyond our inn.” she affirmed with conviction.
The sound of a sword falling onto the wooden deck, followed by the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground, attracted the servants' attention back to the dual at hand. The boy, who’d just fallen, slowly regained his footing. He took a minute to recover his breath before charging towards his opponent with a renewed sense of vengeance. Unfortunately, his efforts proved fruitless, as she managed to parry any and all he threw at her.
“When you look closely, she really does look nothing like the rest of them.” the older maid remarked as they watched the exchange.
“What do you mean?” Byungsoo questioned, brows furrowed.
“Just look at her skin. It’s not nearly as pale as the rest of them.” she pointed off. “I remember when I first met her, wild hair and all. You would have thought she was a new maid.”
“Who?” All three women turned to see a younger maid settling down beside them. None recalled having ever caught glimpses of her. The girl glanced in the direction the maids had previously had their eyes trained toward. “Were you talking about Grand Princess Ji-Young?”
Standing straight face in the dual circle, the girl had managed to wipe the floor with him.
The Byungsoo, the youngest of the original three, nodded. “Mrs. Ko and Mss. No were already working at the palace when the grand princess arrived.”
“I remember that day.” Mss. No spoke. “Prince Ji-Yong threw a vase in the face of a servant. Mr. Nam still has the scars to prove it.”
“That boy’s temper will get the better of him one day.” Mrs. Ko added.
The new addition to the trio looked between the women, a confused crinkle on her forehead before bringing them back onto the two figures exchanging blows. “What’s going on?”
“They’ve been at it since we left port, per the emperor's order.” At the mention of the emperor, they all turned to the farther left of the deck, where the man stood. His eyes trained on the training pair, a thoroughly unimpressed expression on his face. “He ordered the Grand Princess be trained every day from sun-up till sundown.” Byungsoo continued. “She’s sparred all the guards on board already. I presume today was prince Ji-Yong’s turn to take a shot.”
“I pity him.” Mss. No pursed her lips, looking sympathetic to the prince’s plight. “The prince is clearly no match for her.” As if hit by a sudden realization, she quickly spun around to their newcomer, her gaze now reflecting distrust. “How come you don’t know that? It’s been going on for over a month.”
The new maid brought her hand to her mouth in apparent shock. “Ah, Sorry. How unbecoming of me.” She sat up on her need and gave the older women a proper bow before extending her hand in their vicinity. “Phạm Phương Ái, I’m from Namtrời. I was unable to leave my group’s cabin due to sickness. That’s probably why you haven’t seen me much around.”
Mrs. Ko raised her eyebrows. “From Namtrời and seasick? I’ve seen it all.”
“If you’re from the southern region, why aren’t you on Grand Princess Lý-Hoang vessel?” Byungsoo asked, curiosity leaking through each word.
“Well, I was called to the palace three months ago. I was supposed to start last month, but well, we’ve been at sea since. Her Highness chose me to be part of the Grand Princess team.” her brow furrowed at that last part. “Although I’m not quite sure what that’s supposed to mean.”
“You must be a practitioner, then.”
Ái nodded. “I’m a soul practitioner.”
“Let me guess. You’re of the healer type?” Mrs. Ko said, a knowing air to her. As Ái nodded once again, the three women's gazes turned pitiful. “Ah, you’re doomed, kid. I heard she put all the best guards in Prince Ji-Yong’s team but only gave barely experienced healers to the Grand Princess.”
“Her Highness probably doesn’t want her to win the tournament.”
“Tournament?” Ái sounded increasingly more nervous.
“Don’t fret. With the two Grand Princesses participating, the winner will be decided between either of them.” Mrs. Ko uttered with so much conviction, only to be countered by Mss. No.
“But are we certain of that? Last time, Grand Prince Liu-Wēi was a contestant. And yet he lost to that monk. Didn’t he?”
“Oh, I’ve heard about him.” Byungsoo chimed in. “They called him the sun prince or something. Some even say he’s a god among mortals. That’s how powerful he’s rumored to be.”
“Haish.” Mrs. Ko scolded her. “do you hear yourself? And then what else?” The Grand Princes and Princesses are descendants of our great goddess Wànxià. How can a mere mortal like him be compared to them?”
“Aren’t they technically only a quarter of a god?” Byungsoo corrected, only to have Mrs. Ko’s fan thrown at her.
“Are you insinuating that the royal lineage is less than?”
“Of course not. I was just stating a fact.” the younger woman tried to defend herself and then more quietly, “Besides, weren’t you the one comparing Grand Princess Ji-Young to a mere servant?”
“Ya!” Mrs. Ko whispered-yelled, grabbing back her fan, fully ready to beat the other maid with it when-
“SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” All eyes on deck turned back to the two royals. Prince Ji-Yong was, once again, on the floor, his sword discarded far away from him. “Fuck this.” the prince cursed as he slammed his fist on the wooden planks. It appeared to everyone, having paid attention or not, that the prince had finally accepted his defeat. Perhaps accepted wasn’t the right word. But facts remained that the undeniable winner of that face-off was the royal still standing.
Grand Princess Ji-Young approached him, an offer for help quickly swatted away by a disgruntled Prince. “Don’t touch me. I don’t need your help.”
On the farther side of the deck, the emperor chose that moment to stand up, having seemingly seen enough. As if on cue, the rest of the onlookers, who till then had been in different levels of laying down, all stood up, head held low as the emperor strode towards the two duelists. Prince Ji-Yong was the first to speak up. “Grandfather I-”
The sentence died down in his throat at the sight of his grandfather’s risen hand. Despite the gesture, the man spared him no glance, his attention fully trained on the girl, eyes gleaming with disappointment. “How do you ever hope to rule if it takes you this long to defeat someone that weak.” His words were sharp, leaving no doubt as to what he’d found of her performance.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do better in the future.” The Grand Princess lowered her head in an outward show of penance.
Seemingly content with her answer, the emperor turned on his heels. “Make sure to clean up. We’re almost there.” With that said, his majesty walked away, his imperial attendant ever his shadow. The maid kept their heads low as the emperor passed their way, only daring to raise it when the last of his guards disappeared after him.
But before any of them could fully breathe out, Her Highness joined the two still-standing dualists. While her husband had paid little to no mind to Prince Ji-Yong, she showered the young Prince with attention, checking around for any injury and reassuring him of his performance. Not once sparing the Grand Princess a single glance.
The three maids looked at each other as they spoke in hushed tones. “No wonder Prince Ji-Yong is so entitled. Her Highness keeps babying him.” Mss. No complained
“You’re so right. Even Grand Prince Aki-Ito acts more mature than him.” Byungsoo snickered in agreement.
“Shhhh, hold your tongue.” Mrs. Ko warned them, but her warning appeared to have been uttered a tad too late.
“You!” The group of four jumped at the prince’s accusing tone. He was already by their side, eyes locked on Byungsoo. “What were you saying?”
“N-N-Nothing, your Highness.” the woman let out nervously.
“Don’t lie to me. I saw you three wenches looking in my direction and laughing. You were making fun of me, weren’t you?”
The three shook their heads. They searched the crowd, eyes glimmering with fear, seemingly hoping for someone to step in. “Look at me when I talk to you.” The prince raged, taking Byungsoo by the collar. “Maybe I should teach you some manners.” He roughly released her collar, causing her to fall on the flooring. Ji-Yong raised his hand, assuredly intending to hit her. The woman shut her eyes waiting for an impact that never manifested. As she slowly opened them, she caught sight of the prince’s face, red with anger, and his suspended arm, restrained by none other than Grand Princess Ji-Young. The Grand Princess had her hand clasped around the prince’s wrist. “What do you think you’re doing.” Prince Ji-Yong demanded, tugging violently against his restraint with no avail.
The Grand Princess shot him a warning glare as she tightened her hold on his wrist. Ji-Yong’s face contoured into a grimace as the pain became obvious. “What is this!?” The Grand Princess released his wrist at the sound of the empress approaching steps. No longer held, Ji-Yong stumbled on the ground, cradling his injured joint, eyes burning with hatred. Her Highness was by his side in seconds, ordering her attendant to help the prince upright before turning her ire on the Grand Princess. The older woman was the definition of poise. Her voice even and cold, but fury danced in her eyes. “What is the meaning of this? Injuring my Wooyong. Humiliating him in front of the help. Have you gone mad?”
The Grand Princess' posture was a perfect reflection of the empress’. She bowed her hand slightly before addressing her. “Forgive my insolence, your Highness. I was just helping Ji-Yong reign in his anger.”
“What did you-“A crack appeared in her Highness' perfect composure.
“They might only be the help.” the Grand Princess continued, undeterred by the empress' interruption. “However, as a prince, he should know to control his emotions. What image would it give if people knew the Prince couldn't behave himself.” A deafening silence fell onto the deck.
All held their breath, waiting to see the empress' reaction. Ultimately, she turned to Ji-Yong. “Go wash up. We can’t have you disembark onto that godawful island in anything but perfection.” With that she turned on her heels and walked away, presumably back to her cabin, with the prince shuffling behind her, here and there looking back to glare at the Grand Princess.
It wasn’t until the doors closed behind them that a collective exhale made itself felt. The princess turned towards the four maids, her blank expression only slightly shifting into something warmer as she bent forward to Byungsoo and offered the still-floor-bound woman her hand. “You should be more careful.” she admonished as she helped the woman up. Once the older woman was back on her feet, the Grand Princess bowed to them before retreating to her own corner, leaving the four women to wash her go, mouths agape.
Meanwhile, further into the capital.
"Woah, look at all these things. I've never seen so much spice and color. Hey, Thayen come and taste this." The boy wandered from stand to stand, observing their merchandise with an eager gaze, each time beckoning his friend to come and try new things with him.
While the tournament was one of many aspects of the summer festival, it was undoubtedly the main attraction. The streets were overflowing with contenders, eager spectators, and anyone hoping to profit from the festivities. Stalls dotted the landscape, extending well beyond the central market. The atmosphere was a relentless assault of vivid colors, a cacophony of noises, and enticing aromas. And they'd done nothing but tour food stands in the last hour. There was a lot for the two boys to discover: flavors, textures, and aromas. Ama's market was a paradise for any food lover. But with the indulgence in various skewered foods came the slow thinning of their coins reserve. His latest stop was a stall run by an elderly lady.
Thayen approached his friend, looking curiously at the stands before him.
"It looks good, but, Xóots, don't you think you're spending too much? At this rate, we won’t have much left."
"Nah." Xóots ignored his friend's concerns. "We've had enough, and it's not every day that we can eat-" He stopped suddenly and then turned towards the lady. “Uhm, excuse me, but what are these skewers?”
The saleswoman looked at the boys in turn. From the tallest and overly impatient to the smallest with the weird mask before responding nonchalantly. “Boarupin.”
"You see, Boarupin. Never heard of anything like that."
“You don’t even know if you’ll like it.” Thayen sounded doubtful, looking at the strange meat from behind his mask, before sighing, seemingly resigning to his friend's antics. He turned to the lady. “Excuse me, ma’am, how much for a skewer?” he inquired.
“1 zilk for two.” came the instant response.
The two boys looked at each other before the taller fished in his pocket and materialized three silver coins. “And how much could we get with this?” She’d snatched the coins from his hand before he’d even finished his sentence. She quickly bit into one of the coins before handing them three skewers.
Xóots gobbled his food in seconds. It was tender, coated in a thick spicy sauce, an assault of flavor he'd never tasted before. Thayen, for his part, directed his towards the small kinglet perched on his shoulder. "Giving your share to that bird, what a waste," Xóots muttered, munching around his second skewer.
"I trust Yp’s tastebuds better than yours." Thayen retorted candidly before turning back towards the stand owner. “Can I have one more?” The boy noticed how her eyes lingered on his face, or rather, lingered on the mask perched atop. It was quite strange going from his tribe, where its presence had become a part of him, to this island where, despite the tantamount of otherworldly creatures rooming around, the mask was perceived as an oddity. However, one must admit that, with its bold colors and eagle-like features, including the open beak, it warranted a stare or two. So Thayen offered her a smile, but the partially hidden gesture just seemed to do little to lessen the inquiring stare.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the woman shook her head before handing him what he’d paid for. Thayen hastened to stash the skewered meat in the bag he’d brought for the occasion. Xóots eyed him and commented. “You know by now all that food is probably all mushed together.”
Thayen looked back at his already overflowing bag, filled to the brim with all the food they’d tried that day. “You think it won’t taste good anymore?” he pondered, examining the salmon skin bag.
“All I’m saying is that the old hag could have come with us and bought her own food.” Xóots tossed out flippantly, reaching for one of the lokums inside the bag.
Thayen was quick to pull it out of reach. “You're the one who insisted that we have a little walk." He air quoted. "Which reminds me that we still don't know where to go.”
At that, Xóots eye’s widened as if realization suddenly dawned on him. “The tournament. I completely forgot.” He frantically turned back to the stand-lady. “Hey, ma’am. You wouldn't happen to know where to register for tournaments by any chance?
Understanding dawned on the older woman’s face as she regarded the two boys with a bit more interest. “So, I gather you two are here to participate in the games of unity.” They both nodded. “I see, I doubt that two gringalets like you have an ounce of a chance of getting much far ahead in the competition.”
“Hey!”
Xóots offended bark was swallowed by Thayen’s asking for direction. After which, the shorter boy had to drag his friend towards the indicated location. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.” he affirmed. An attempt at placating his friend as they moved further into the crowd. Xóots had been to suggest their enrollment to begin with.
“You’ll see, we’re going to be rich, rich. And they’ll all have to recognize us as the warriors we are.” Xóots was back to yapping on and on as they made their way to the town square. He moved to put Thayen into an open hug, his hand extended before them as if trying to conjure an image. “Imagine it, an arena chanting our name, fame, and glory-”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
"Not quite," Xóots shook his head, releasing Thayen from his embrace. "Fame is when everyone knows your name, but glory is when they remember it for ages to come." Thayen nodded non-committedly. “And on top of all that, we’d get an exuberant amount of money. The kind that’s like almost all the tribe makes in years of hard work combined. We’d become heroes if we bring it back with us.”
“What about Aanayá? Have you thought about her? She’s going to kill us when she realizes what we’re doing.”
Xóots waved it off. “We’ll already be enrolled. And like any respectable warrior, she won’t just let us get eliminated as no-shows. So, there’s nothing to worry about.” And so, the two boys ventured forth, their spirits high as they sought out the booth where tournament registration was being held. After stopping a few more times to ask some locals for the correct direction, they eventually arrived at the town square, where they found a long line stretching before a stand. The two boys begrudgingly slipped to the back of the queue.
“What’s this crap grade? C, I’m at least a B.” The yell echoed through the crowd as another displeased candidate stomped away from the stand, fuming.
“Next.” A hoarse voice announced behind the stand.
Suddenly an overly chipper girl hopped into view. She wore a big grin as she attempted to greet the man behind the wooden desk. “Hell-”
“Name.” the man croaked, not looking up from the parchment in front of him.
The gurl let his curt tone glide off of her, her grin remaining firm in place. Instead, the girl puffed her chest and pointed to herself. “Shamsi. My name is Shamsi.”
A wrinkled hand instantly went to scribble something onto the paper. “Category?” Came the follow-up question, his eyes remained focused on the parchment. Shamsi, however, seemed clueless. After a prolonged silence, the man looked up, clearly frustrated. “Category?” He reiterated, his tone sounding more irritated than before. Shamsi tilted her head in confusion.
“He's asking what kind of practitioner you are.” A high-pitched voice chimed in. Shamsi turned around to see a fluffy hairball-like creature perched on the counter. She’d seemingly missed it in her enthusiasm, but with its two beady eyes staring at her, it was hard to ignore once noticed. “So, what is it?” The creature, a grooch, probed. “Energy, matter, or soul?”
Shamsi’s faltered if only for an instant before regaining its sparkle. “None.” She told them confidently.
The grooch, tsk while the man’s expression remained lifeless as his wrinkled hand went back to writing. “Age?” Came next. At least, Shamsi could answer that one directly.
“Seventeen.” she proudly announced. Excitement oozed from her. Another scribble on parchment followed before papery fingers reached for a needle on the counter, presenting it to her. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Shamsi asked, eyeing the needle with curiosity.
“What else but prick your finger,” the grooch huffed, “You sure are dense even for a human.”
Shamsi stuck her tongue out at the hairball and seized the needle. Following the instructions she pricked her finger, letting a tiny sliver of blood run down. The fluffball sprung up at once, taking the bleeding digit into its mouth. “Wha-” Shamsi uttered, startled as the grooch released her finger its blue tongue making an appearance.
“Bah, your blood tastes awful.” The grooch spat out, its eyes turning pensive. “Strange. I’ve never tasted something this displeasing.” It turned its round body to face the man. The old man's expression remained impassive as the hairball carried on. “Stamina pretty low, no discerning capability, average built. Quite the let dow-hey, let me go!” The little hairball threshed as it was suspended in the air. “Let me down. Let me down. Let me down.”
Shamsi regarded the creature inquisitively. “You know, from up here, you’re quite cute.” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she turned him around.
“This is an assault on an assessor. I could have you disqualified. Let me down.” The grooch's twig-like limbs dangled in the air as it tried to free itself, its squeaky voice getting even higher the more it attempted to escape.
Shamsi continued her manhandling of the creature until something viscous and blue hit her square in the face, resulting in her releasing the sentiemals on instinct. She wiped the layer of saliva with her hand. Right then, a piece of parchment slid before. She looked at it puzzled. “What’s this?”
“You have to sign this,” the grooch informed her, skittering away to put as much distance between them as possible. Shamsi once again looked at the paper, seeing her name, classification, age, and an agreement that in case of death or injury, the game and Eden could not be held responsible, and below it, space for her signature. “We’re required to inform you that cheating and murder are strictly forbidden during the tournament. Failure to comply would result in elimination.”
Shamsi cocked her head to the side. “Why do I have to sign this of murder is forbidden?” She asked them, genuinely confused.
“You’ll be surprised how many weaklings join, hoping to prove something.” The fluffball shared nonchalantly. Its tone indicated he counted Shamsi in that group. “Even if outlawed, competitors can always find a way to make it pass as an accident if the island doesn’t take them out first. But don’t worry, you probably won’t even make it to the first phase.”
Shamsi ignored the grooch remarks, reaching once more for the needle. The second the pad of her thumb left the paper, the parchment was snatched away, a wooden token placed in its place. The token was small and yellow, with her name and the letter D engraved. “Present yourself with this at the training compound in Iradam before the 15th.” the old man said dismissively. “Now, shoo.”
Having been thoroughly dismissed, Shamsi sauntered away, only then noticing the placard next to the booth and with it that she’d been relegated to the lowest tier. The ranks ranged from S to D. Shamsi clutched her token, which doubled as a pass, in her hand as determination burned in her eyes. ‘A let down’ that’s what the grooch had called her, and the girl was determined to prove him wrong. Her first step to that was to reach the training compound.
Realizing she was still too close to the port to make it in time through the United Bridge, the girl mused over the best way to reach Iradam when squealing caught her attention. Turning around, she saw a group of women running towards the docks. They weren’t the only ones; from where she stood, she saw people running or walking in that direction. Curiosity peaked; she headed in the same direction as them.
The crowd became significantly bigger once she neared the harbor. It stretched from the docks into the street, with people standing on both sides, creating a corridor. Everyone was trying to get a better view, stacking on each other and straining their neck. “Are you sure it’s them?”
“Positive, saw that banner with my own two eyes. Hard to miss the nine rings surrounding the sun.” Shamsi's ears perked up at the mention of the flag. She engulfed herself in the crown, her curiosity having shifted to excitement as she recognized the banner. To her misfortune, the further she tried to advance, the more resistance she got. Instead of barreling forward, Shamsi looked around her, her eyes falling on a tavern along the pathway. A mischievous smile crept onto her lips as she dashed for the nearest building.
Leaping from roof to roof to roof proved much more effective, as she’d managed to get a better view of the fanfare below, perched from her rooftop. From her vantage point, she could clearly see two distinct party parties walking side by side. The first group had distinct segments, between guards, what looked to be nobles and servants, and an honest-to-god palanquin. Carried by a large retinue of bearers. The other party, on the other hand, the divide was a bit clearer on that front. There was a distinction between the group that walked in front and the second, much larger one at the back. The front row was a sea of green, while the back was much more diverse in color, fabric, and wealth exuberance. Shamsi had her attention focused on the first group of the second party. Her eyes swept across the sea of green in search of one person in particular, a monk amongst many others.
“Hey, you. What are you doing on my roof.” Shamsi looked down to see the owner of the house she was perched on, sticking his face out of the window and glaring daggers at her. “Come down immediately.” He shouted as he waved around a rolling pin. That momentarily distracted Shamsi, the teenager forgetting her precarious place on the roof, as she made a wrong step, which sent her over the edge.
The whole thing happened so fast that she didn’t have time to hold onto something or think of breaking her fall. Instead, her eyes closed on instinct, waiting in a fleeting moment of weightlessness for a collision with the hard floor. A collision that never came. Instead of hitting the pavement, Shamsi fell onto something much softer. Puzzled, Shamsi pushed herself upright as she slowly opened her eyes. By some convoluted twist of fate, she’d fallen onto someone. A girl, to be more specific. Her fingers were tangled in soft black hair. Gray eyes met umber ones. Unbeknownst to her, Shamsi had just fallen atop the Grand Princess of a foreign empire.
Almost instantly, shouts resonated around them. “大公主!” Before she knew it, Shamsi was hoisted off the other girl and promptly thrown onto the cold hard cobblestones. Ouch!” She whined, massaging her bottom as guards and servants rushed to the girl's side, fussing over her well-being.
“Are you alright?” A hand suddenly appeared before Shamsi. She turned her head to see who it belonged to, squinting as her eyes fell on who she’d been looking for. A tall man with silky black hair and wheatish skin, Sūryakāntiḥ, winner of the last games and a personal idol of hers, stood before her. Shamsi had been fourteen, sitting in the arena and witnessing him taking home the champion title. Suryakantih’s eyebrows creased as a look of worry crossed his face at the extended silence. “Can you stand up?” Shamsi simply nodded, seeming shy all of a sudden as the older man hoisted her upright.
She looked transfixed as she gapped at him. “Marvelous,” Came a sarcastic whine not far from them. “You found another groupie.” Both turned around to see a younger man approaching them.
“Don’t be mean, Tuah.” Suryakantih scolded him. His eyes, however, betrayed their closeness. “Besides, between us two, you’re the Don Juan.” He asserted, wiggling his eyebrows. The younger man rolled his eyes at the playful jab. Shamsi glanced back and forth between the two men. The younger lad was a tad shorter than Suryakantih, skin the color of honey and hair only slightly longer than the buzzcut sported by most monks that surrounded them. His uniform was alike that of the others, with a green dhoti and kurta, blue tilak on the forehead, and gold to each extremity. The only difference was in the cloth wrapped around their waists, which were either of a blue, green, or yellowish color. All tied together by a red cord. The boy who’d just joined them had a green cloth around his waist. As for Suryakantih, his was a golden yellow.
As if only then remembering her presence, Suryakantih turned back to Shamsi. “Sorry, this is my friend Prayaspramattaḥ, don’t mind him. He’s always this grumpy.” The mirthful way he looked at him betrayed their closeness. Shamsi’s gaze remained focused on Suryakantih, whilst the latter’s smile faltered at her prolonged silence. “Euhm, are you sure you’re okay?”
Shamsi blinked before her face split into a large grin as she eagerly requested. “Would you like to face me?”
Suryakantih blinked. “Face you? Like a dual?” Shamsi nodded. Suryakantih and his friend exchanged a look before he turned his gaze back on her. “Like, you seriously want to fight me.” He asked, stupefied.
Shamsi nodded once more. “You’re the strongest person I know. So, if I want to get stronger, I have no choice but to defeat you.”
At that, Suryakantih burst out laughing. His laughter, not so much sounding mocking but rather amused. “I like you.” He decided.
Shamsi frowned at his reaction, opening her mouth but never getting to say what she had in mind as the three of them became quickly surrounded. “爾毋動” Four of what looked like guards stood before them, staring her down.
Shamsi tilted her head in confusion as they continued speaking in a tongue unknown to her. “What’s going on? is she saying?” She voiced aloud.
Sūryakāntiḥ, still by her side, was quick to supply a translation. “They’re asking not to move.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“You fell onto one of their crown princesses.” He helpfully explained.
“你是誰? 為何襲擊大公主?”
Shamsi turned back to Sūryakāntiḥ, her eyes inquiring about what was being asked of her. As if understanding what she wanted, he translated once more. “They're asking who you are and why you attacked the Princess.”
Her eyes widened as she finally seemed to understand the mess she'd found herself in. Stepping toward them, she held her hands up to appear non-threatening. However, her gesture only seemed to alarm the few guards even more. The four guards advanced further, their leader continuously shouting in that foreign language. “我等叫你不要動” Fearing that things might escalate, Shamsi quickly assessed her best strategy. She started looking around for a good exit when, from the corner of her eyes, she noticed a guard to her left approaching her, his hand reaching out, seemingly intending to grab her. Shamsi reacted quickly, grabbing his extended arm and twisting it behind his back before kicking him hard enough to collide with the closest guard on her right.
She used the slight moment of confusion of the other two standing guard to kick the third one in the shin with the pommel of her saber. By the time the lead guard realized what was happening and went for her own sword, the edge of her shamshir was grazing her neck. Instantly, the guard’s grip slackens. Shamsi only then seemed to realize how much worse she’d made her situation when more guards rushed to their side, spears drawn in her direction.
As if that wasn’t enough, turning around, Shamsi could see muhāfizs hurrying to the scene. She cursed under her breath, realizing more than ever she had to make a break for it. Just then, one of the guards took advantage of her inattentiveness to charge at her. Shamsi dextrally dodged the attack, stepping on the spear, and then, using the guard’s shoulder, she sprung onto the palanquin. She used the elevated surface of the sedan chair to propel herself onto a neighboring shop’s roof.
The crowd looked at the girl’s escape with open mouths. Amongst them, one princess, in particular, had her eyes strained on the last building she'd been on before completely disappearing.
