Chapter Sixteen: Valour (Part One). 

The clash of heels against marble echoed through the halls. Delicate steps that came closer and closer. It couldn't be Evara, she'd have fallen flat after her first step in heels. She doubted the dainty sound could be Amell, though it would be a sight to see. The steps didn't stop as they grew louder still.

A little wave rippled over her bare arm, it lapped across her aching calf and took up the weight of her skull.

The heels didn't walk, they sauntered. She could hear the sway of her hips, the confidence of her stride. A silent beckon, an unspoken promise. A white lie and a smoky kiss carried on lilac winds. A lover at first sight, a friend come the next, and maybe something even more after that.

"You are going to wrinkle."

Ash jolted awake. It felt like she had been falling, her belly tore through the ground while she tried to keep above the water line. She stood straight, the tips of her toes finally finding the tiled floor beneath the stirring waves. Her eyes focused past the thinning steam to see a dark-haired figure standing at the far end. Her heart fluttered at the thought: could it be her?

By instinct, Ash covered herself. She dropped lower in the water as she wiped away the drops that clouded her vision. Dark hair, red robes, but bright pink lips and cold dark eyes.

"I did not mean to startle you, Champion," the figure whispered. Her voice was all too soft, her smile all too forced. "It is simply that the day grows long, and you have slept for some time. The night won't accept you if you waste your day."

"I... What is the hour?" Ash stammered, trying to mask her embarrassment.

"That of the doe, sixteenth of the day," the woman replied. She turned and slid noiselessly across the bathhouse to fetch a towel for Ash.

"Were you-" Ash tried to ask, but the question caught in her throat. "Heels, were you wearing heels?"

"No, my lady. I could, if you wish me to."

"No, it's- it must have been a dream."

"Very well, my lady. Shall I have the staff prepare you something to eat?" The woman asked as she held out a fluffy blue towel for Ash to dry herself with. It must have been apparent that Ash was uncomfortable as the woman began to avert her eyes, even going so far as to turn her bowed head towards the opposite wall.

"I- erm. No, thank you. Do you... know where my sister is?" Ashtik asked. She took the towel with a whispered thanks and quickly gathered her modesty.

"I believe she is still within the library. Sister Rose tells me that she has created something of a bunker for herself. I doubt she will be joining us for some time yet," the woman smiled, now facing Ash again. She was of a height with Ash, though stood as though she were much taller. A cold kind of confidence dripped from the woman's dark, dove-wing eyes like tears would from another woman's.

"Oh, I see. Thank you, but I didn't catch your name," Ash said. She quelled her timidity for a moment and matched the woman's gaze. Ash could see the mask she wore. She was not truly so cold as her eyes pretended. There was a warmth greater than that of the water in which she yet stood, sealed an inch behind the near black of her iris.

"Mei, my lady. I am the prime maid of the house, and shall act as your personal attendant for the duration of your stay," the dark-haired woman bowed.

"Oh, right. Thank you, Mei, but I don't think I'll need an attendant. It's nice to meet you, though," Ash awkwardly smiled, fully aware of every bead of water that dripped from her hair and down her towel.

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, my lady. I will be nearby at all times, should you change your mind."

With the uncomfortable dismissal, Mei made away to make the most of her remaining day. Ash thought she really ought to do the same.

Her armour had been taken by some attendant while she bathed, in its place lay a fine cotton robe and a pair of strange fluffy shoes. The soles were so thin that she doubted there would be any point in wearing them, so she opted to don the robe and made for her reserved chambers.

It took all her will, and all her strength, not to collapse down into the goose-down bed and sleep the day away. The room had been well-lived in, but the bed looked to be brand new. She found scuffs along the thick pile carpet where the frame must have been dragged along. The first sleep, in a brand-new bed, in a brand-new nation. It would have to wait until the day was done.

A quicksilver mirror lay in the far corner, framed in ivory. She caught a glimpse of herself and had to look again. The girl who had been a huntress was already gone; this was some new woman.

Her slender, athletic build had quietly been replaced with this much more muscle-bound body. It reminded her of a dream, one in which she was a queen; an empress. She had looked like this then, if a little broader and a much older.

She did not think her trials had been so demanding as to give her the frame of a warrior so soon, but she could not deny her eyes as she dropped her robe. Smooth curves and slim lines had come to be harsh and angled. Scarred and battered.

The amethyst of her eyes hadn't yet faded to the grey of the empress, but they did look hollower here. That Evara hadn't made mention of the transformation gave Ash hope that it was all in her mind, or that she was suffering some trick of the light. She even laughed as a thought found her; maybe the mirror was magic. Maybe some insecure nobleman had his mirror enchanted to make a more manly, muscled visage of himself.

Ashtik gathered some acceptable clothes that had been left within a set of draws and laid them out. The clothes were all in the fashion of Xio Vien, and not particularly to her liking. Colourful patterns and beautifully stitched flowers laced into flowing silk robes. She had grown so used to leather armour – or even her new steel – that she doubted she would remember how to even attach the garbs.

She settled on a white top with a neck that covered her own and a spiral of buttons flowing down and around her entire body. She couldn't bring herself to don the skirts, not out of distaste for skirts themselves, but because they trailed much too far behind her. There must have been two meters of additional material behind her. It may have looked elegant, but if Ash decided to turn around, she'd have to do a lap of the room.

Fortunately, in the next set of draws, she found a pair of black pants. She put them on first and found that they were also of Xioan design. A kind of sash – or belt – wrapped around her waist and came higher than her naval, though it was hidden beneath the top as she slowly buttoned it up.

Her hair was still far from dry, though she hadn't had time to properly maintain it in weeks. The tattooed vines at her temples had entirely vanished beneath a tuft of white. Though it wasn't nearly as long as Evara's hair, it was still much longer than she was accustomed to.

She decided to braid her hair again, but she would do so in the library so Ev could give her a hand.

That was until three quiet knocks broke her thoughts.

"Hello?" Ash called out to the big red door.

"Are you clothed?" A man asked.

"Amell?"

"Aye," he replied. "I was thinking we should head out for a while."

"Where?"

"I was going to check out the tourney, see if we can't put a few knights on their asses. Come along, if you aren't busy."

The tourney did sound interesting, though she didn't relish the idea of walking through all of those crowds. A chance to test herself, and how far she had come, did sound like a worthy waste of an afternoon.

She crossed the room and slid the door open where the giant stood beneath his lapis cloak.

"Do you know how to do a braid?" Ash asked.

"Sure," he laughed.

The grand stadium held two ques. One line, vast as an ocean of drunkards, was meant for the audience. They bore the paints of favoured athletes as they sang and danced their way within. There seemed to be no end to them, though Ash did not doubt that the arena could hold all of them.

The queue Ash made for consisted of a much more eclectic band, though not nearly as many as the other. Maybe two-hundred warriors in all. Giant grey swordsmen, dense dwargon scrappers, elegant tenpic fencers. A few even bothered to spar, though it mostly seemed in good spirit. A scaled man and a tusked woman clashed heads with an echoing boom while others cheered them on. A silver-skinned Tenpic woman danced around the gentle strikes of a Quitevi marksman. She even saw some strange Baji artificer tooling with his gadgets.

She felt thoroughly out of place. A northern huntress had no home in battle, especially not a battle of recreation. She even felt somewhat overdressed, which truly was a foreign feeling for her. However, she couldn't help but notice that Amell was wearing fairly similar clothes. For the first time since she had met him; he had shed his steel skin and its black underlayer. Now, he wore a fine white buttoned shirt with a strange collar and a stranger symbol embroidered within. She imagined it was some Kovayeshi style of outfit and that perhaps the symbol was some mark of his countrymen.

"You okay, Ash?" The giant asked.

"Yeah, just nervous."

"Don't be. You've beat Veytors, a couple of Oda cavalrymen won't do much harm."

"You say that but... I mean, aren't you a wanted man?" Ash whispered.

"Well, yes," he admitted with a sly simper, "but nobody will be looking at me. Not when the Sparrow-Knight shows up. Besides, most believe I'm dead. They certainly won't think to find me here."

The assurances felt hollow but he spoke them as if they were absolute. She had little time to ponder him before a grand bell rang out. Every man, woman and child knew what it meant. All as one, they marched forth. A stampeding swarm with surprisingly synchronised steps.

"Off we go," Amell chuckled.

It tore through the air. It came close enough to shave her brow, but it wouldn't be enough. She twirled her borrowed blade around her hips and drew it to her right hand, where she thrust it into the foot of her opponent.

"I yield!" The great mound of meat whimpered. He was just in time, as well. Any longer and he'd have become intimately familiar with the point of her left-handed dagger.

The crowd roared; it was the upset of the decade by the sound of it. The felled beast must have been a favourite, though she had torn him apart in moments.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A magical voice echoed through the stadium. "The first bout is over, the winner – by natural decision – is 'the Silken Smile'! Please collect your winnings while the next match is prepared, and don't forget to pick up some refreshments while you're up!"

"She's good," Ash awed.

"She's too exuberant. She'd never last in a slug out," Amell smiled.

"Exuberant?"

"Flashy."

"Oh. What should she do instead?"

"Plan her moves ahead of time. Everything she did was reactive, good reactions are important but you shouldn't be in a position where you have to rely on them. She should have angled herself with the sun to her back and kept some distance until she was ready to strike."

"But she won, right? Why does it matter?"

"Because you're going to beat her, it helps to know her flaws."

"I can't beat her!"

"Course' you can. Now, come on. Let's sign up."

They followed the last of the crowd up to a long tent booth. Two women, one a dwargon and one a green-skinned human, sat behind a little wooden table. They drew two clipboards and handed them over with an utter sheen of bored disgust.

Amell got to work quickly, he scribed some strange runes and numerals across the paper while Ash just stood there dumbfounded. She desperately tried to parse some of the page, even going so far as to read some of the letters aloud – if under her breath. It was of no use. Not only did the symbols hold no meaning for her, they even seemed to dance across the page as she tried to focus on them.

"Ash?" Amell whispered. She caught his confused gaze as he finally seemed to notice her quiet struggle. "Are you okay?"

"I, erm," Ash stuttered. A flood of red found her cheeks and she struggled to admit what had been typical back home. "I can't..."

"Oh," Amell smiled warmly as the realisation hit him. "I'm sorry, I just assumed because of Evara... Here, I'll do it for you."

"I'm sorry," Ash half whispered as she handed him the paper.

"Nothing to be sorry for. Right, first off; name?"

"A-Ashtik?"

"Yeah, I know that," he laughed, "but any middle names or maiden names?"

"Oh, yeah. Ashtik Sai-Weleg."

"Right, age?"

"Nineteen."

"Nine-and-ten. Gods, I forget how young you are. Next, do you agree to battle till the first blood only? Any additional damage may be subject to legal recourse."

"What does that mean?"

"Stab em' till they bleed, then stop," he chuckled.

"Okay."

"Right," Amell cleared his throat in some attempt to avoid the awkwardness of her overly curt answers. "Equipment request? A spear, dirk and light armour. Right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll just sort the rest out then. That should be all good."

"Oh. Thank you, Amell," Ash meekly smiled.

"Colin," he corrected with a sly wink. The two turned back to the slumped-over women and Amell handed over the forms with a beaming smile.

"Right," the dwargon woman grunted. "Tourney titles?"

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of one," Amell said. He turned to Ash with a face that begged for help.

"The blue-knight?" Ash suggested.

"Suitably humble, I like it. And the lady is the Sparrow-Knight," Amell bowed.

"Sparreh' ey?" The human woman repeated. "I eard' that name before. You been in tourneys before?"

"I- no," Ash replied.

"Swear I eard' tale of some Sparreh' knight over in't west," the woman insisted.

"Aye, yer' right inall'. Those lads from Duke's crossing said there were meant to be some Champion called the Sparreh'," the shorter dwargon woman agreed. "Tha' meant be you, darlin'?"

Ash didn't know if she was supposed to tell them or not, or if they would even believe her. She had just fled her homeland at risk of death over the secret, now she was considering using her title in a renowned tournament. She faced Amell with the question in her eyes, it was as though she hoped he would have some wiser answer to offer them. He just smiled and said, "She's a Champion, alright. Champion of the feast, nobody can out drink the wee lass."

"Oh aye," the human woman scoffed.

"For truth!" Amell said in a falsely posh Kovayeshi voice. "The lady is unrivalled in the revels. You ought to bow before her divine skullduggery."

"Mhmm, so tha's the 'Sparreh Knight' and the 'Kovayeshi Clown'. Yer permitted one piece of personal equipment – most choose a weapon – but otherwise, yer' gear's over there and yer start in ten," the human droned on.

Ten passed in one and her battle commenced. It was not so agonising as she had expected. Half a dozen separate matches occurred at the same time so the crowd was far from invested in watching her of all people. While she walked up to her battle circle, so did Amell off at the other end of the stadium. It seemed he had been matched against some swordsman who couldn't have been any older than Ash. Though he was fairly well built for his age, he was so transparently outmatched by Amell in his thick plate armour.

Ash's opponent stepped up to the starting line. A man, two meters tall and about half as broad. He cast her in shadow as he took up his position but he did not try to menace her. In fact, he smiled and bowed before her. Ash returned the gesture, though somewhat more awkwardly.

"May your blade sharpen in defeat, that it might cut in your next battle," the man smiled as he sealed his face away behind his great helm.

For once, Ash had a helmet of her own, though it fit more like a mask than a true helm. She wrapped her braids within and slipped it over her face.

"Contestants!" The magic voice boomed. "Draw your blades!"

Ash drew her borrowed spear from her back and took up a fighting stance. He hefted a blade near as tall as she over his shoulder as he took a slow step backwards.

"Begin!"