Candlelight Fantasia

Part Two:

He has to know we're coming, Beatrix thought.

It was not just because, if Lamplight was guilty of the crime that Lawlthorn had implicated him in, Lawlthorn's failure to return would indicate his failure in his mission. Rather, Beatrix thought as strode down the crowded docks of Alexandria Harbor, Maia at her side as always, it was simply because she was here in the first place. Beatrix was a very recognizable figure, after all, frequently seen in public with the Queen, and her formidable reputation was bound up in her appearance. Beatrix, the Rose of Alexandria, one defeated foe had called her, and while it did not properly reflect her ability at combat, Beatrix found that she could live with it. At any rate, the moment she had stepped onto the docks, every thug who sold information was dashing to the nearest corrupt businessman to inform him that the mighty General Beatrix was coming. If Lamplight plays the game that every trader plays, if he wants to skirt trade regulations like the others, he has to keep an ear to the wind. He'll have informants and know I'm coming. Walking next to her, Maia studied the dock workers, sailors, and various miscreants that tended to haunt the docks of a city such as Alexandria, a wry grin on her face. "You know, ordinarily a man in a setting such as this seeing a woman with your, er, endowments would be sending cat-calls at her. Your reputation truly proceeds you, ma 'am," Maia joked. Beatrix paid her little heed-Maia had a long standing jest about her figure and the way she chose to present it, and Beatrix tolerated it. Given her usual choice of dress, leather garments with low cut, full-bodiced tops, Beatrix had little choice but to tolerate it. Maia took her silence as a sign that she could continue. "I believe, General, that approximately a third of the men you defeated in battle were staring at your bosom as they fell."

Beatrix hid a smile; it was not her way to show much emotion around her subordinates. "That is their problem. A true fighter is never distracted."

Maia looked down at herself; unlike Beatrix, Maia had the slim build of a dancer. "A fighter would never be distracted by my assets, regardless of his concentration level. And we've arrived." Maia indicated their destination with a wave; it was a small warehouse, shoe-horned between two larger warehouses, with a single story wooden structure at the front of it for office space, most likely. A sign that read "Lamplight Shipping" hung from beneath the awning over the door, and to Beatrix, it seemed like one of a hundred similar businesses that she had encountered in her travels across the Mist Continent. Seemingly sensing this, Maia remarked "My. Such an...ordinary location to hide sedition."

"Any place can hide sedition," Beatrix replied. "You are certain of the information you gathered on Lamplight?"

"I trust my source in the Shipping Guild, ma 'am. Lamplight Shipping primarily has contracts with companies that build airship and Mist engine parts. The closest thing to malfeasance that I can uncover is the usual sort of bribery involved with getting preferential Gate treatment with Lindblum. And if we arrested everyone guilty of that, trade would cease."

"Sadly, that is true." Beatrix strode towards the entrance, having formulating her strategy for dealing with Lamplight already. She would privately give him the benefit of the doubt-there was always a chance that someone was setting him up for some reason-but she would approach him as if his complicity was self-evident. If he was truly not guilty of the crime, he would not be able to hide his shock at the accusation from her, and if he was...

The reception area, for lack of a better term, was a small, comfortable place, dominated by an oaken counter, behind which stood a bookish, reed thin man that Beatrix estimated to be around fifty years of age. He looked up as the door opened and paled noticeably upon seeing who stood before him. Beatrix decided to maintain the advantage by marching up to the counter and staring directly into the man's eye, barked "I wish to speak with Joshua Lamplight!" Maia was amused to observe that, despite being surprised and very uncomfortable with the situation that had just suddenly arose, the man's eyes did fall down towards Beatrix's neckline. I wonder if any man notices that she covers one eye, she thought wryly.

The man, a clerk of some sort, Beatrix judged, was very taken aback by this. "Er, ma 'am..." he began.

"You will address me as General Beatrix," she informed him.

The clerk took a deep breath, now very much out of sorts; in fact, he was sweating. "Er, General, Mr. Lamplight is on the warehouse floor, and it will take some time to bring him to you..." he offered.

"I do not have time to waste, sir. This is a matter of great concern to the security of the throne. If Mr. Lamplight is on the warehouse floor, I shall meet him there."

"C-certainly, General." The clerk lifted a hand held bell from under the counter in a slow, calculated fashion, as if he did not want her to think he was going for a weapon. As if he would stand a chance against me, she thought as he rang the bell three times. Presently a young boy, one with the facial features of a cat, typical of some of the lower class of Alexandria, stepped through a door behind the counter. The clerk assumed an air of superiority with the boy, back again on the familiar ground of being at a higher station than whom he dealt with, and said, "Take these ladies to Mr. Lamplight, boy. And mind your manners; they are noble women of the military."

The boy looked up at Beatrix and Maia and bowed deeply, showing, Beatrix thought, just enough respect, tempered by an impish gleam to his eye that showed the boy's true personality. "Ladies, if you will follow me?" he requested, his tone formal. Beatrix nodded sternly, noticing that Maia was smiling cheerfully at the boy, which Beatrix understood. While she had something of a noble lineage, Maia was a commoner, having risen to her current station in life by skill at arms and willpower. Where Maia did not look down on commoners, Beatrix found that she tended to view all commoners from the point of view as Protector of Alexandria, and from the level of threat that they posed to the security of Alexandria. Maia's perspective tended to be a welcome balance for her own tendencies. The boy led them through the door that he had entered the room from and onto the warehouse floor itself, and Beatrix began studying the space with her customary caution. As was the case with most warehouses, it was filled with row after row of packing crates and boxes, thankfully (given the possibility of combat action in this endeavor) stacked neatly on either side of the warehouse, creating a wide pathway down the center of the space. Beatrix had worried that the interior of the warehouse would be a maze, difficult to maneuver through. The area was well lit, allowing Beatrix to see that no one was currently hiding in the rafters above. However, her native caution told her that it would not take much to turn this place into a fortress. There were at present only a few workers visible, moving crates from place to place on Mist Engine driven carts, mostly headed in the direction of the oversized sliding door that, in all likelihood led to the dock area perhaps seven in all. She quickly realized that she did not need the boy to direct her to Lamplight, unless her instincts were quite off; standing at the far end of the open space of the warehouse, watching workers pull the door back to allow the carts to pass through it, was a tall, black haired man wearing an overcoat and leaning on an ornate walking stick, his back turned to them. That was to be Lamplight, Beatrix thought. She could not help but wonder if there was an element of artifice to the scene, as if Lamplight was setting a scene solely for their benefit. The workers, she saw, had a variety of reactions to their presence, some showing surprise and worry, others showing nothing more than the barest amount of attention before returning to their tasks.

The boy led them to behind the man and at once confirmed Beatrix's suspicions by saying "Mr. Lamplight, there are ladies of the military to see you."

Lamplight nodded without turning. "I see, Larin. Remain near at hand, if I have need of you." The boy, Larin, bowed to Lamplight, and moved away, taking up a position near the crates to the left. A servant, then, Beatrix thought. That explained how she had not seen any other child workers, a fairly common fact of life in many cities on the Mist Continent. As she considered this, Lamplight turned and regarded them. He was a stern appearing man, square jawed, with penetrating blue eyes, his black hair, from the front, telling the truth about his age, with a pronounced widow's peak and streaks of grey at either temple. He looked down on both of them-he was quite tall, Beatrix saw-and began the conversation by saying "Well, if it isn't General Beatrix herself, come down from the castle to slum with the common folk."

"Mr. Lamplight," Beatrix began imperiously, following her plan, "You have been implicated in a plot to threaten the security of the Queen. Do you know a man named Lawlthorn?"

Lamplight's expression was insanely calm, which only revealed to Beatrix that he could mask his emotions, be they fear or anger. "You doubtlessly believe that I do, General. Why is that?"

Beatrix maintained her cold tone. "Last night, this man was found in a high security area of the castle. When questioned about his presence there, he attacked and gravely wounded one of my knights." This was a slight exaggeration, but Beatrix hoped it would help unnerve Lamplight. Attacking a knight of Alexandria was a crime that most people considered unfathomable, and it should have shook Lamplight to the core. "Once this man was captured, during questioning he named you as the person who set him to this task."

Lamplight's expression remained unreadable. "Hmm. And I suppose that if I claim that I have no idea who this man is, or why I would ask him to invade the castle, you'll simply ignore that and arrest me outright?"

"Sir, had I deemed it necessary, I would have had you arrested last night. But Alexandria is a land of justice, and you should have the chance to defend yourself."

"How charitable of you, General. You are a credit to your type." Lamplight waved around the warehouse with the hand that did not hold the walking stick. "General, I am a man of modest means, whose business requires maintaining good will with the governments of the Mist Continent. I will not deny that that requires a certain amount of corruption to remain on a level footing with my competition. But to say that I would participate in a plot against the Queen is ludicrous."

A pretty speech, but one that stinks of being prepared, Beatrix thought. "Mr. Lamplight, do you know Lawlthorn?"

Lamplight surprised her. "Actually, I do, General. Mr. Lawlthorn is a former employee of my company, who worked here for some six months before moving on. He has not worked here for the better part of a month. Do you want me to produce the employment records for my employees to prove it?"

That should have been enough, enough for Beatrix to at least take Lamplight in for questioning, but something was ringing wrong with her instincts. He isn't afraid of me, she thought. While that reeked of sheer ego, it was a simple fact that few men who encountered her faced her with no trepidation at all. There was also the simple fact that Lamplight seemed confident that he could prove that Lawlthorn was no longer associated with him, and that muddied the issue. Queen Brahne would use any excuse she can find to not damage the reputation of Alexandria with the merchants, Beatrix thought. If I have a case against Lamplight it has to be iron-clad, or she'll merely execute Lawlthorn and move on. But what bothered her was the lack of fear coming from Lamplight. Surely he can not believe that he could face me in battle, so what is he thinking? She decided to try a rarely used tack with her, the path of passive resistance. "Mr. Lamplight, I thank you for your time, and I feel I must apologize to you. We will question Mr. Lawlthorn again and see if he was merely trying to mislead us." Beatrix turned on her heel and marched out of the warehouse, Maia hurrying to catch up, privately wondering what her general was up to.

Behind them, Lamplight watched them as they left, a thin smile on his face, his hand on the walking stick clenching tighter. "She is formidable, isn't she? But she's not quite properly motivated yet, now is she?" He looked toward Larin and said, "Boy, I have a task for you, if you're prepared for it." Larin bowed to his master and moved on to perform the task that he had set for the boy earlier. "Let's see, General, if I can provide the proper motivation for you," Lamplight whispered. "Let us see."

Beatrix and Maia made their way through the streets of Alexandria Town, the cobblestone roads filled with commoners moving from place to place in the patterns of their lives, patterns that Beatrix knew all too well. Born, live, die, someone had said to her once, that is the one thing we all have in common. You must aspire to more than that, Beatrix. She wondered if Lamplight believed the same thing. Beside of her, Maia wrestled with her thoughts for a while before she asked "General, why did you not arrest Lamplight? He has admitted he knows Lawlthorn...is that not enough?"

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Maia, but something's not right. Lamplight...Lamplight wasn't afraid of me."

Maia sighed. She loved Beatrix dearly, and like every woman under her command, she would follow the General through hell itself, but at times her ego was a bit hard to deal with. Sure, she's the strongest fighter in the world, but that doesn't mean that people can't face her without fear. "General, if I may have freedom to speak, but that doesn't mean anything other than Lamplight is arrogant."

Beatrix nodded agreement. "That isn't the only reason why I decided not to act, Maia. There is the political aspect to consider. Queen Brahne would prefer it if we had more tangible proof of Lamplight's guilt, and we serve the Queen."

"Yes, General, but there are times when doing our duty overcomes the whims of politicians..."

"Our duty comes first, Maia. I may not always agree with the Queen, or those close to her, but I do my duty to them. That is how I was trained."

Maia knew there was no point in arguing; Beatrix was single-minded in all things, even her devotion to duty, and as such would never give on such a point. She was about to ask Beatrix what their next move was to be when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement on one of the rooftops directly next to them. She had just enough time to realize that there was a threat to them when Beatrix's left hand snapped up and snatched a silver flash out of the air. She flipped the throwing knife that she had caught over to Maia and said "That was terribly rude," then bounded into the air in a superhuman leap that brought her down on a balcony above the entrance to a shop. The person on the roof who had thrown the knife disappeared in a hurry, Maia saw, but her concern at that time was for Beatrix. "General, wait, it could be a trap!" she shouted.

Beatrix looked over her shoulder at Maia. "I hope that it is, Maia. I hope that it is." And with another leap, she was gone over the edge of the roof and out of sight. Maia watched her go, then sighed and said to herself, "One of these days she's going to run into someone who can give her a good fight, and then what will happen?"

Beatrix landed on the apex of the triangular roof of the building that she had been attacked from to find that her attacker, a man dressed in leather armor, his face masked by a hood, was retreating at a fairly decent pace. As she watched, he leaped from one rooftop to the next, landing with a certain amount of grace. This one might be harder to catch than Lawlthorn, she thought. She wondered if the man-based on his build at least, she had to assume it was a man, although she had been trained to never assume-was just run of the mill street trash or trained in the arts of the assassin; both were easy to hire in Alexandria Town. She began her pursuit, her legs carrying her at a speed that would awe most athletes, and nowhere near her top running speed. She cleared the distance between the two rooftops with ease, gaining on the attacker in seconds, already able to hear his breath as he jumped onto another roof, whirled as he landed, and hurled another knife at her. She felt the air of its passage as she ducked the knife, giving the attacker enough time to put some distance between them. Or so he thought; as he cleared another roof, leaping to a roof of a building lower than its neighbor, Beatrix jumped with all her power, landing in the middle of the roof that her attacker had just vacated. As soon as her boots touched the roof, she leaped again, one hand going to Save the Queen in preparation of drawing the sword...

...and as she came down towards the roof below, she saw that her attacker had been joined by three other men in similar garb, two armed with swords, the third armed with a Burmecian-styled lance. Well, Maia, it was a trap after all, she thought as she landed. Something of an insulting one, but a trap nonetheless. Beatrix surveyed the quartet of men and asked them, "Are you loyal to your master or simply well paid?" Lawlthorn had demonstrated a great deal of loyalty to Lamplight the previous day, although Beatrix could allow for the fact that he had merely been afraid of the merchant; she wondered how these men would respond. "You realize who you face, do you not?"

The man who had attacked her spoke, his voice muffled by the hood he wore. "We do. Beatrix, sword-slut of Alexandria."

Beatrix smiled, a dangerous, wicked smile. "It's been a long time since someone tried to bait me with anger. You are either brave or foolish." Beatrix drew her sword, Save the Queen glittering in the light of the sun. "Let us see which it is."

And with that the quartet attacked.

Beatrix, age eleven:

She has been in the ring of candles for two and a half years now, and things have only grown slightly easier for her against her master. For every day of the first year, she suffered a series of beatings so brutal that at times even her indomitable will faltered, her every attack defended and turned back on her with an ease that is frightening to her. But as she suffered, she learned to control her motion, until her every movement in the flickering candlelight barely moves the flames of the candles. In her second year, she began to make headway against her master, putting him on the defensive on a number of occasions, but only by taking actions that caused a candle to go out. Eighteen months of her time in the ring, she first made contact with her master, the flat of her blade catching him in the thigh. Now, a year later, Beatrix is ready to finish what she started, all those months ago. She knows her master's every move, his every defense, every action and reaction that he can take, will take, and she knows that this is the day that she leaves the ring. She regards her master across the ring, part of her thinking about what she learned recently from one of her classmates about him; about how his family had run a school of combat for generations in Alexandria, and how that school had faded as time had passed, and how the combat mistresses of the academy had brought him, along with a few other male instructors like Messamer, in to teach special students such as herself. Beatrix has heard that the Army of Alexandria is mostly female, and this only confirms her belief. Her master grips the well-worn practice combat staff that he has punished her with for thirty months and says "Are you ready, Beatrix?"

Without a word, she answers, attacking her master with a blow that moves faster than most eyes could follow, one that is barely met by her master's staff. She presses the advantage, her sword arcing through the air in a series of complex movements that leads to a lethal overhand strike that is only a feint for an oblique slash that slices at her master's tunic. He responds with a blow that she parries with her left forearm, and her sword blurs, slicing the combat staff in half. Before her master can continue the attack-she knows that he can defeat her with only half a staff-she hooks one of his legs with her foot and trips him, her sword knocking the staff aside as her master, for the first time in two and a half years, falls. She points her sword at his chin and said "Yield, sir."

Her master contemplates the tip of the sword that she carries and smiles. " Amazing. You toppled me so fast. I would have thought that you would need to be at least thirteen for your body to match what your mind is capable of." His smile widens. "I yield, Beatrix, for now."

She lowers her sword as her master rises to his feet and takes note of the still lit ring of candles. "Amazing, for one so young. I cannot help but wonder, though..." He walks through the candles, his motion causing not a flicker, over to the corner of a room that she can not see into due to the glare of the candles. When he returns he carries a warblade in a leather sheath, the blade four feet long, the hilts of purest silver and formed in the shape of angel wings. Beatrix feels her breath leave her as she realizes what he carries, and exactly how important her master is. "Do you recognize this blade, child?" He drew the sword then, revealing a silver blade, black in the center, unreadable runes running down the ebony surface.

"Is that...is that one of the Sacred Swords?" she asks, awe in her voice.

"Yes. Brother to Save the Queen herself, children forged from a blade of even greater legend. And my family's responsibility. No one has carried this blade but a male of my family line for centuries. It's sister, Save the Queen, has not been wielded for nearly 50 years, since the last great Holy Knight died. I believe that you will be capable of bearing her, little one, and for two and a half years I've pushed you to the point that I think you are finally ready."

Beatrix's heart sang with joy. "You mean...to become a Holy Knight?"

Her master's smile became a little sad. "No. To face my true power."

And with a single blow that she could barely track, her master disarmed her, her arm going numb from the sheer unfathomable power he possessed. Her arm fell limp as she stared in a mixture of amazement and hatred at her master. The hatred rose to the fore as he chuckled. "I have carried this sword for as long as you have lived, and have borne arms twice as long as you have lived. There is no shame in being weaker than me at present, little one. The shame comes if you never surpass me."

Beatrix composed her thoughts and cleared her mind, as she had been trained to, and stood at attention in front of her. "How did you hide so much of your power from me, sir?"

"That is what you must learn. Today, however, you have learned a valuable lesson. Your opponent is always capable of more than you suspect. It may not be true...as it stands at present, with no further training you could be one of the finest fighters on Gaia, capable of defeating most enemies...but always fight as if that is the case, and no enemy can surprise you." He nodded toward where her sword had landed. "Now take up your blade, Beatrix, and we will begin again."

Beatrix does as she was told, vowing as she did that she would become so strong that no one, not even the guardian of the Sacred Sword Grieving Angel, would be able to defeat her...and certainly not a normal man. She picks up her sword and returns to the ring of candles, not knowing that she would remain there until her sixteenth birthday has passed, and returns to combat.

The two with swords attacked at once, moving in a fashion that suggested to Beatrix that they had either been trained to fight as a team or were accustomed to. Their strikes, however, looked as if they were moving in slow motion, and Save the Queen parried both attacks. She returned the attack with a speed that was frightening to behold, her attacks disarming both men in seconds and, just as quickly, dropping both with wounds to their abdomens that were fatal. She regretted that, but she did not need all four of the men to prove who had sent them, and killing the two most dangerous ones made the most tactical sense. The one with the Burmecian lance charged her on foot, clearly using the lance for the range it gave him and not because he had any Burmecian training. She sliced the lance in half and quickly reversed the direction of her stroke, the sword striking her attacker in the breastbone and killing him instantly.

Ten seconds had passed.

The first man who attacked her, she saw, had a series of knives in scabbards around his waist, and his hands dropped to two of them. Beatrix held Save the Queen, the blood of his comrades staining its edge, and Beatrix remarked coldly, "You know that will do you no good. Tell me who told you to attack me and you live, albeit in the dungeons of Alexandria Castle. Resist and die."

The knife thrower looked from the sword to the fallen and came to a decision, and for a moment, it shocked her. He ran at the edge of the rooftop, apparently trying to make an escape attempt, but she quickly realized that the neighboring building was far too high and too far away for him to reach. Amazingly, she watched him throw himself headfirst off the rooftop, and as she reached the roof's edge with all her speed, he crashed into the ground with a gruesome crunching sound. Dead, she thought, and I doubt my white magics could revive him. What would motivate him that he would rather die than tell me what I wished to know?

She moved to go back down to the ground, to locate Maia and have a detail of guards remove the bodies, when she saw in the crowd that was beginning to gather, in confusion, around the corpse in the street, Lamplight's servant boy, Larin, looking up at her. His cat's eyes met hers, and he grinned impishly before stepping back into the crowd. She doubted his presence there was a coincidence. "Lamplight," she whispered, "it's over. Whatever you think you're trying to accomplish, it ends tonight." She turned, bent, and with the tunic of a slain man cleaned the blood off of Save the Queen before she sheathed the sword. "It ends tonight."