rufusluciusivan wrote: ↑Wed Jan 10, 2024 8:43 amYou're truly on fire when it comes to commenting. I wasn't necessarily expecting one comment per part. (Originally, I divided them more out of convenience.) Of course, I'm not complaining either! It means more discussions. Hopefully the main heist and epilogue will give more things to discuss.
Sure, I'm happy to provide feedback and discuss the writing. Even at this early stage in the story, there are things to talk about.
The nostalgic throwback to the Utopia series is purely accidental, I swear. I didn't notice the similarities until you pointed them out. The personalities are different though, and so will be some of the main thematics, so hopefully it won't feel redundant.
Sure, I figure there will be some differences in their personalities that will become more obvious as the story progresses. Just something I noticed while reading. And there's nothing wrong with a bit of nostalgia.
The embassy of Felipe was using an architecture very popular for the manors of its home kingdom: Two wings were framing a central building. Each wing ended with a tower.
On the last floor of the east wing’s tower, there was a balcony. A sentry was stationed there. From her location, she could watch at the same time the courtyard, the main street near the embassy, and the window of Don Esteban’s office room in the west wing.
The architects had done a good work. One soldier was enough to watch the most important parts of the embassy.
However, it also meant intruders only needed to neutralize one guard to clear the coast…
Of course, the soldier was supposed to be out of reach, on the safety of her balcony. In theory.
Rasha was hiding in the shadows of the nearest alleyway. The guard on the balcony couldn’t see her because of the dark, but she had a clear line of sight.
The thief smiled when she saw, at the entrance, ‘Soha the Masked Dancer’ announce herself, and be welcomed inside with her blond assistant.
Aisha and Zaïde were in...
Rasha glanced once more at the silhouette of the sentry. The thief could see the crossbow the soldier was carrying. By decree of king Rashid IV, foreigners weren’t allowed to bring firearms on the kingdom’s soil – even embassy guards. However, Rasha knew firsthand a crossbow could be as deadly as any fancy firearm under the hands of someone capable.
On the balcony and in the moonlight, the soldier looked small and dark from the ground.
“You think you can hit her?” the thief asked her accomplice.
Beatrix scoffed something unintelligible. She was standing next to her in the alleyway, under the cover of the dark.
Rasha chuckled to herself. “Sorry. Stupid question.”
The redhead opened her coat. Wrapped around her waist and torso, there were several munition belts carrying small cylindrical-shaped crystals of various colours.
“Don’t take the wrong crystal though. The princess doesn’t want casualties...”
Beatrix muttered to herself a complaint about the “soft-hearted fools who wouldn’t last one hour in a battle”. A former soldier habit…
The bounty huntress ignored the red-coloured crystals to grab a blue one. She cocked her firearm.
Jezails were the result of a successful experiment to adapt the technology of the musket, a weapon from oversea. Instead of bullets and black powder, jezails used Ghazanite magic-infused crystals as munitions. When hit by the flintlock, they would release their energy in a projectile. The red crystals, the only common ones, had an effect similar to a bullet. However, recently, one scholar hired by El Idriss’ city watch had attempted to craft crystals designed to knock out the target, so that they could be captured alive for interrogation. However, the experiment hadn’t been fully successful so far. The blue non-lethal crystals could knock out a person, but only if the projectile hit an exposed vital spot. If it was blocked by clothes, or if it hit a non-vital spot like a hand, the projectile would only cause a mild numbness at best. Bottom line, for now the only reliable way to use these munitions was to aim for the head. Not the easiest target.
Though if the shooter was an elite markswoman who never missed, then there was of course no problem…
Beatrix raised her jezail to her shoulder. She aimed, blocked her breath, then shot. A small blue line flew.
Rasha had heard muskets were a loud unrefined weapon. In that regard, jezails were their polar opposites. They were elegant, and almost completely silent – save for a faint crystalline sound when the flintlock hit. Had they been more commonplace, Rasha wouldn’t have been surprised to see them become the favored ranged weapon of the assassins. In fact, given enough time, it was probable they would.
The sentry was hit in the forehead. She froze. Rasha saw the woman stagger, then collapse. The noise was drowned out by the sounds of the party in the embassy.
It was her cue.
The thief checked that her crampons were secured on her hands and feet. Several coils of rope were wrapped around her shoulder.
The thief checked if the coast was clear. Then she ran across the street, and climbed the wall.
Rasha reached the balcony in record time. (Though she was miffed she didn’t break her own personal record.) From her hiding spot below, Beatrix made a gesture of the arm, to signal her accomplice that nobody had spotted her. Perfect...
Rasha bent forward, and checked if the sentry was truly out of commission. She rolled the woman onto her back, grabbed her eyelids, and looked at her eyes. The soldier moaned feebly, but didn’t wake up. Rasha smiled.
The embassy guard had dark auburn hair tied into two braids, chestnut brown eyes, and a light skin – a bit tanned because of hours spent standing guard outside under Ghazan’s Sun.
Her uniform was colourful and fancy-looking – befitting of a soldier protecting an ambassador. The soldier’s black wide-brimmed musketeer hat was adorned with a red feather. It was the kind of headgear which was used for decorum. Her red-and-golden striped tunic had golden yellow puffed out shoulders, red sleeves, and golden buttons. Her striped red-and-golden uniform trousers were puffed out. Finally, her footwear were brown soft leather boots with a golden buckle each. A thick brown leather weapon belt was tied around her waist. Onto it were strapped a sheath containing a steel dagger and a small quiver with crossbow bolts.
Rasha got down to work. She unbuckled the soldier’s weapon belt, and put it away. Next, she unlaced, and took off the boots. She shimmied the trousers down the woman’s legs. Finally, she knelt and lifted the motionless guard’s upper-body, letting it rest on her lap, unbuttoned the tunic and pulled it off. The thief carefully put the discarded clothes in a corner of the balcony.
She left the unconscious woman clad in only her undergarments: faded blue undershorts tied around the waist with a piece of string, and a matching sleeveless top.
Then, Rasha rolled the unconscious auburn-haired soldier onto her stomach. She grabbed one long coil of rope wrapped around her shoulder. She used it to hog-tie the woman. First, the thief wrapped and restrained the guard’s shoulders, upper-arms, and wrists. Then, using the remaining part of the rope, she bound the calves and ankles together, and connected them to the upper-body’s bonds. Finally, Rasha took the thick black bandanna she had been using to hide her lower-face. She shoved it in-between the guard’s teeth, and tied the cleave-gag behind the woman’s neck.
Satisfied with her ropework, Rasha licked her lips, and swallowed some saliva. What a rush…
She removed her black outfit, and slipped into the uniform: tunic and trousers first, then the boots and the hat.
Love fancy clothes… Rasha thought to herself.
She had spent all her childhood wearing rags. She couldn’t have enough fancy clothes.
When the thief buckled up the leather weapon belt however, she noticed that the soldier’s crossbow, bolts, and dagger were of the best quality. These weren’t for show… And in spite of her fancy uniform, the guard was a well-trained fighter. Rasha had felt up the woman’s arms and legs. Those were well-toned.
I guess Don Esteban was expecting someone would try to stick their nose in his business eventually… Too bad he underestimated their skill...
After tightening the hog-tie, Rasha concealed the trussed up guard behind the balcony’s railing. She took position right next to her, pretending to watch the area.
She glanced at the window on the other side of the courtyard. Esteban’s office room was now left un-guarded...
**************
The party was in full swing.
Zaïde was a born socialite – which was logical since her mother was a former courtesan. She had an easy time fluttering around from one conversation to an other, making chit-chat under the guise of Soha. Aisha only had to follow her, and remain in her shadow – which suited her perfectly. She had never been good in social situations.
Impersonating Soha proved to be a clever choice. The dancer was famous enough to receive an invitation. However, her social status was a lot lower than the other guests, therefore she wasn’t the center of attention either.
The ambassador himself was standing in the center of the reception hall. Ironically, he was making their mission easier. Infiltration was all about deceit, and having someone divert the people’s attention was a blessing. Esteban was doing the job for them, without even realizing it.
Aisha was regularly looking through the windows of the ball room. She could see a specific balcony. At one point, she noticed the guard had removed her hat, and put it on the left corner of the balcony.
It was the signal. Rasha had taken the place of the real sentry, and was telling them the coast was clear.
Aisha exchanged a nod with Zaïde.
Her cousin then summoned a passing servant.
“Could you tell me where the latrines are?” she asked.
It was a basic excuse, but also a convenient one. The man gave her the indication, and Zaïde and Aisha left the main reception hall. Nobody paid them any attention.
The corridors and rooms outside the reception hall were a lot quieter – save for the occasional servant or guest.
At first, the two cousins went in the direction of the latrines. However, as soon as they were out of sight, they sneaked into the private aisle of the embassy.
This area of the building was dimly lit and empty.
“Now, for the final step, we simply need to get rid of our current identities, and to impersonate more innocuous people…”
“Servants or guards?”
“The first opportunity we come across.”
Zaïde had managed to get a map of the embassy’s building thanks to her mother’s informants. She led Aisha towards the servants quarters.
They didn't encounter anyone on their way. Most servants and guards were busy attending to the guests.
However, the intruders finally heard noises coming from a cellar room.
Zaïde and Aisha quickly took a peak inside.
“Oh. Oh. Would you look at that...”
Two guards of the embassy were sitting at a table. They were on a break, and were playing cards. A servant was watching them, and bringing them mugs of beer.
The first soldier was a petite brunette with a tanned skin and honey brown eyes. She had short shaggy hair, and a square-shaped face. The second soldier was a tall light-skinned woman with black hair and dark brown eyes. Her hair were tied into two braids. The two women were wearing the colorful red-and-golden puffy uniforms of the embassy’s guards. Their wide-brimmed hats were hung on their chairs.
The servant’s dark blond hair were tied into a neck bun. She had a light skin, and grey eyes. The maiden was wearing the uniform of servants from Felipe: a brown long-sleeved maid tunic, a long brown skirt, a white piece of cloth tied around the waist, and a white apron. She was covering her head with a white cloth servant bonnet.
“Looks like we’re spoiled for choice.” Zaïde commented.
Aisha noticed a nearby storage room. Its door had been left open by the servant.
The soldiers were focused on their cards. Escaping their attention was easy. When the servant put on the mugs of beer on their table, Aisha and Zaïde moved stealthily, and sneaked into the storage room the maid had left open.
Once the beers were served, the maid went back to the storage room. When she came within reach, Aisha grabbed and hand-gagged her, then pulled her inside the storage room.
The servant let out a muffled yelp.
Aisha immobilized her. At the same time, Zaïde smiled and winked at the woman, putting her index finger on her lips. “Shhhh!”
The confused maid frowned. She wasn’t used to be assaulted by a sexy dancer in fancy clothes...
However, before she could recover from her surprise and call for help, Zaïde jabbed a small dart coated with a knock-out potion into her neck.
The servant’s eyes widened. She let out a muffled peep. Then her eyes rolled back, and her body became limp in Aisha’s arms.
The two intruders listened carefully, in case the guards had heard something. However, the two soldiers were too busy drinking and gambling to notice the third woman’s disappearance.
Aisha gently laid the slumbering maid onto the floor.
“We only have one sleeping dart left.” she warned her partner.
Zaïde grabbed a nearby frying pan. “Not a problem.”
***************
In the other room, the black-haired guard laid her cards on the table with a triumphant grin. “Look at that, and weep!” she exclaimed. “I won!”
Zaïde appeared next to her. “Congratulations.” she said, while brandishing her pan.
The soldier frowned. “Uh?! Who are-”
CLONK!
The black-haired soldier grunted. She was knocked out instantly. Her head fell face first on the table.
The short brown-haired guard grabbed her dagger, and attempted to get up. “Intruder!”
Aisha immobilized her by wrapping an arm around her throat before she could get up. With her other hand, she jabbed their last dart of knock-out potion in-between the woman’s neck and shoulder.
The soldier groaned, and briefly struggled. However, her body quickly stopped spasming, and she slumped onto her chair. Out cold.
Aisha glanced at the black-haired guard, and grimaced. “That must have hurt...”
Zaïde threw the pan away. “Oh, she’ll just have a headache. Had we let her spend her night drinking beer, the result would’ve been the same.”
Zaïde and Aisha dragged the two unconscious soldiers inside the storage room, and laid them next to the servant.
Aisha glanced at the short brunette. “This one’s clothes won’t fit any of us. I wish I had Mother’s full power…” She indeed recalled Yuka could even change the shape of her entire silhouette, something that was way out of her daughter’s reach.
“Then one of us will have to play the part of the servant.”
Immediately after saying that, Zaïde began to strip the tall black-haired guard.
Aisha realized too late she had been had. “Hey!”
Still, she conceded defeat, and started to take off the servant’s uniform.
“We take the clothes of the third one?”
Zaïde noticed spare tablecloths rolled in corner of the storage room. “I found an easier way to cut makeshift ropes…”
Aisha glanced at the brown-haired guard, who would be allowed to keep her clothes. “I’m sure she’ll be thankful.” she joked.
They finished divesting the two women of their outer garments. The black-haired guard was left clad in white bloomers and a grey sleeveless top, and the blond-haired servant was left clad in a long beige sleeveless slip.
Zaïde and Aisha quickly cut the tablecloths into strips. The cloth was sturdy, in fact as durable as any true rope. The two friends used the strips of tablecloths to bind and gag each woman. They were short on time, so they didn’t complicate things: They tied up the ankles, then the wrists, and finally stuff-gagged and cleave-gagged each of the three unconscious women.
There were two empty wicker baskets in a corner of the storage room. Zaïde and Aisha stashed the tall guard inside the first basket; and the short guard and the servant together inside the second one.
The two women then undressed, and put on their new disguises. They threw the discarded clothes of Soha and Ingrid with the tall guard inside the basket. Then they left the cellar.
It was time to pay a visit to Don Esteban’s office room...
**************
Rasha was a bit miffed.
She had hoped to snag some valuables during the mission… But she was stuck on that dumb balcony, with a bound-and-gagged half-naked guard as her only company.
Still, she knew Aisha would pay her handsomely for her services, so she didn’t leave her post.
No matter how boring it was.
Through the windows of the other building, Rasha could see Aisha’s and Zaïde’s progress. Her two teammates had managed to steal new outfits. They were about to enter Esteban’s office room.
However, Rasha’s senses immediately went on alert when she heard faint noises come from the tower behind her. Somebody was about to go to the balcony!
And of course, considering they’d see a half-naked woman concealed in a corner, they’d have a few questions.
The thief’s body tensed in anticipation. She could feel an adrenaline rush. She loved it.
The door leading to the balcony was opened.
Two women exited the tower. They weren’t guards. Given their fancy dresses and hairdos, they could only be guests.
The first woman was a brown-haired beauty with a tanned skin and emerald green eyes. She was wearing a sapphire blue formal puffy long dress, which was fitted at the waist. The collar and wrists of the dress were made of white lace. Real pearls were woven into the garment. The aristocrat’s gold bracelets and earrings were adorned with rubies, and her gold choker had a sapphire embedded in it. Her hair were tied into an elegant chignon with many hairpins.
The second woman was light-skinned, with bright red hair, and hazel eyes. Her formal dress was also long, fitted at the waist, adorned with white pearls and lace around the collar and the wrists, and with a puffy bottom. The garment was green-colored, with white lace. The redhead was wearing jewels too – choker, bracelets, and earrings – but they looked less expensive than her friend’s. Her hair were tied into a proper braided low bun.
“This is the best view in the embassy…” the brunette was saying. “Esteban himself told me about it. He said I should give it a try.” It was clear she had dropped the ambassador’s name to impress her friend.
It was working. “Oh my…” the redhead exclaimed. She looked like the archetypal air-headed sheltered ingenue.
Rasha smiled when she saw the guests’ jewels. Who said robbing the Church gave you bad luck? Looks like I have the favors of the One True God!
The brown-haired aristocrat glanced at Rasha. “I hope you won’t mind us.” She had clearly said that only for the sake of form. In fact, while polite, her tone of voice also clearly expressed she wasn’t expecting Rasha to contradict her. The brown-haired aristocrat personally knew don Esteban, and her dress was particularly expensive. Someone so high on the social ladder didn’t care about the opinion of a mere guard.
Still, the disguised thief played along, and smiled. “Of course.” She prepared herself.
It was at that moment the party-goers noticed the hog-tied half-naked woman at Rasha’s feet.
At the same time, the thief lunged forward, and socked the first woman in the jaw. The brunette yelped and fell backwards on her butt.
The red-haired aristocrat stared at her in shock. She had a hard time accepting that a commoner would dare strike a blue-blooded person. She opened her mouth to scream.
There was a faint crystalline sound. Rasha barely saw a quick blue-colored line hit the woman’s temple.
The redhead’s mouth was still open, but no shout of help came out. Her eyes were staring vacantly. Her body briefly staggered, then she let out a long moan, and fell forward into Rasha’s arms.
The thief smiled. Beatrix’s services were expensive, and she would ask for a bonus. But she was worth every coin…
The thief heard a faint groan.
The brown-haired party-goer was trying to recover from the blow.
Rasha dropped the redhead next to her, and punched the other woman on the temple. The brunette grunted, and went still this time.
The thief observed her two victims, and scratched her chin. Rasha cared more about the jewels than about the dresses. However, she didn’t have enough rope. The clothes would need to go off. Plus, the pearls adorning them were the real deal. Rasha intended to steal them too.
Aisha wouldn’t have approved, of course. But Rasha didn’t need to tell her…
Confident Beatrix was watching from the alleyway, Rasha went down to work.
The brunette was stripped first. The thief started with the jewels, carefully taking them off, then went down to work with the gown. Formal dresses were notoriously hard to remove – nobles usually needed the help of servants – but since Rasha didn’t care about keeping the garments intact, she had no qualms about using her dagger to cut into the fabric when she needed. Once the thief was done, the brown-haired aristocrat was left wearing only a bright pink corset adorned with white ribbons and lace, and puffy pink bloomers adorned at the waist strap by light pink lace and ribbons.
The redhead was next. Rasha removed her jewels and clothes until she was left clad in a light green corset adorned with blue ribbons and lace, and matching puffy lacy bloomers.
Rasha put aside the jewels and pearls. Then she cut the shredded dresses, and turned them into makeshift ropes.
She rolled the brunette’s and redhead’s unconscious bodies to position them back to back. She bound each woman’s wrists in front of the other’s stomach. Then she tied each woman’s ankles. She wrapped a few makeshift ropes around both women’s legs to bind them together, and did the same around their waists. Finally, she used thick strips of cloth as stuff-gags and cleave-gags.
A little while later, two trussed up and gagged noblewomen were keeping company to the hog-tied guard, concealed behind the balcony’s railing.
Rasha was back at her initial position. Now a lot richer...
**************
Zaïde quietly opened the door.
The office room was tidy and luxurious – befitting of an ambassador.
There were several bookcases with many documents. On the walls, gorgeous paintings were showing landscapes of the kingdom of Felipe. There was a huge wardrobe room in a corner. The desk was in the middle of the room.
“You search the desk, I check the books.” Zaïde proposed.
Aisha nodded, and quickly got down to work. She remembered Azeneth's tales. She ignored the papers on the desk, and opened the drawers, looking for a double-bottom.
It took her some time, but after completely pulling out one drawer, she noticed that there was a false back behind, inside the desk. She removed it.
“I think I found something…” Aisha announced.
It was a small notebook. A quick reading allowed her to realize this was an account book. It didn’t look like much at first glance, but Aisha knew enough about court intrigue to recognize a coded journal when she was seeing one. She theorized the notebook was listing quite illegal transactions.
Zaïde seemed to have also found something of interest in the library. A letter, which she pocketed.
“Let’s go before-”
Aisha and Zaïde suddenly froze.
They could hear people approach the room.
“Quick! In the wardrobe!” Aisha whispered.
They rushed inside the wardrobe room and hid in the middle of the hung coats, leaving the doors slightly open in order to spy what was going on.
A man and two women entered the room.
When she saw them, Aisha used all her self-control to not let out a surprised shout. She knew the first woman.
It was Azeneth! Her mother’s friend and father’s adviser.
The metis woman was wearing a party dress, and was looking radiant in it. Aisha was so used to see Azeneth in casual clothes, she was surprised to see how comfortable she looked while wearing a formal outfit.
The man was tall and light-brown-haired, with hazel eyes and a goatee. His light skin was tanned due to his exposure to Ghazan’s sun. Don Esteban Mendoza himself.
The second woman was from Pakal. Her oval-shaped face, coarse thick black hair, brown almond-shaped eyes, and copper-coloured skin were a dead giveaway. Among the guests dressed in the fashion of Ghazan or Felipe, she stood out like a sore thumb, as she was the only one wearing Pakal clothes. She was clad in an orange short-sleeved dress with a blue collar, of which the bottom was adorned with red and blue geometrical patterns. Her earrings were made of jade, and her headband was made of gold. She was also wearing gold bracelets and a blue long necklace. Aisha had never met that woman, but she knew her by name. She was donna Tzi-Ya Mendoza, don Esteban’s wife.
“I didn’t think you’d take the time to see me in private, Esteban.” Azeneth commented.
“My guests can enjoy the party without me for a few minutes… I’ve been sending invitations to the King for months. Now that he has finally accepted to send a representative, it would be shameful to not greet them properly.”
There was a short pause.
“Though I’m surprised he went as far as to send his favorite handywoman...”
Just like many diplomats, Esteban was a master at slipping subtle insults with a friendly polite tone of voice.
“The King thought I was the best-suited person to bring his message.”
Esteban smiled lightly. “Ah. Nothing beats a childhood friend to carry a warning…”
“Something like that. He has noticed you’ve been busy lately. Too busy. He worries it might be bad for your health.”
Azeneth was also good at diplomatic talks. Especially when it came to veiled threats.
The ambassador and his wife shared a glance, but their faces didn’t betray any emotion.
Azeneth momentarily ignored them to scan the office room. She was pretending to look at the works of art on the walls, but was in truth looking for clues of Esteban’s wrongdoings.
“Feeling nostalgic?” Tzi-Ya intervened. Of course she wasn’t fooled by Azeneth’s pretense, but it would have been un-diplomatic to mention it.
The metis shrugged, and didn’t stop looking around. “Not really. I barely remember Felipe. I’ve lived most of my life in Pakal and Ghazan, even before my father’s death.”
“She was talking about us.” Esteban insisted.
This time, Azeneth had to look at her hosts. “I don’t think there’s anything here that could remind me of the friends I once knew. I remember a young man with dreams of mapping new routes… and a young woman who wanted to sail east and discover an other continent… I wonder what happened to them.”
Esteban didn’t bat an eye. “They grew up.”
Azeneth shook her head. “I can clearly see that. DON Esteban” She insisted on the aristocratic title. She was sounding disappointed.
Aisha was embarrassed. Apparently, her parents had already taken measures to keep watch on the ambassador. Suddenly, her entire operation looked a lot more childish in her eyes…
But there was the notebook. She knew it would be more useful.
“I suppose it would be pointless to catch up on old times then. Such a shame...” Esteban commented. “Alas, it’s life. I propose we return to the reception hall. The guests are waiting.”
They left the office room. Aisha heard their footsteps go away.
“A close one…” she whispered. She was holding the notebook close to her. “Let’s go!”
She didn’t see Zaïde pocket the letter.
**************
Aisha and Zaïde didn’t bother with finding other disguises. They suspected nobody would question a guard and a maid leaving the embassy through the servant entrance. At least, not before it was too late.
And their guess was right.
Before leaving the office room, they had given Rasha the signal to flee from Esteban’s office. The thief and Beatrix had also left the embassy’s area.
Now, Aisha and Zaïde only had to regroup with their two accomplices at their meeting point.
They were already a few blocks away from the embassy. The streets were almost empty.
The rebellious princess was holding the stolen notebook close to her. She was ecstatic. Her first infiltration with real stakes was a rousing success. She felt proud of her accomplishment. Surely, her parents were going to understand her.
“I don’t see how things could go wrong now!” Aisha foolishly commented, with a huge smile on her face.
They turned around a building, arriving at the meeting point. It was a small remote square surrounded by tall buildings.
The two accomplices were greeted by a squadron of royal soldiers.
“Oh.” Aisha dryly said.
Rasha and Beatrix were nowhere in sight. They had probably fled the moment they had spotted the guards from afar.
A familiar figure was leading the soldiers. She was sticking out from the crowd, with her bright-red-and-deep-blue dress adorned with arabesques of woven gold and silver threads. The clothes managed the exploit of looking luxurious but not ostentatious, while also being functional enough to walk in the streets. Garments befitting a royal princess.
Aisha smiled awkwardly at the young woman leading the soldiers. “Hello, sister dear.”
Her twin sister was looking unimpressed. She ignored her, and glared at Zaïde.
The curvy young woman didn’t lose her composure. “Greetings, cousin.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Zaïde.” Yasmin retorted. “I thought you’d have been reasonable enough to see this escapade was a bad idea.”
Aisha took offense at being ignored. She brandished the notebook. “Yasmin! I found-”
“No matter what’s inside, we won’t be able to use it against Esteban.”
Yasmin didn’t even raise her voice. Yet, Aisha was left speechless, interrupted in the middle of her tirade. She didn’t find anything to retort. Her twin sister was maybe her spitting image physically-wise, but when it came to their personalities, Yasmin was her polar opposite. When Aisha interacted with her, she usually felt more like she was talking to a stern guardian than to a sister.
Zaïde intervened in Aisha’s behalf – she was a lot better than her with debates. “We’re in-between ourselves, Yasmin. There’s no need to keep up appearances. We maybe can’t use this notebook to legally act against Esteban, but we all know Uncle and his spies will be very interested by the information it contains.”
Yasmin didn’t lose her composure. “I doubt they’ll be worth the diplomatic incident you’ve created.” She looked at her twin sister. “Come with me Aisha. Mother and Father are waiting.”
Dejected, Aisha followed her sibling, her head low.
Goodness, Rasha really is a risk-taker... She puts Klenia to shame. Replacing a guard and leaving her bound-and-gagged right where she's standing, as if daring other people to find out she's an imposter. (And then, of course, having fun mugging and robbing a couple of people who do find her.) Probably for the best that she is confined to the balcony during the mission.
In any event, another brief but fun chapter, with more fun interactions and careful world-building. (I do wonder what was in that letter Zaïde pocketed.) I was hoping for some appearances by the original Pakal characters, so was happy to see Azeneth return.
The highlight of this chapter was the scene in the cellar room, which seems like a homage to the excellent "Session Zero" comic by DevanMuse. And the brunette guard is quite lucky - she may have lost the card game, but she was spared both a uniform steal and the undignified knockout from a frying pan.
“I don’t see how things could go wrong now!” Aisha foolishly commented, with a huge smile on her face.
It's never a good sign when the narration is smarter than the characters.
tirepanted3 wrote: ↑Thu Jan 11, 2024 3:07 pm
Goodness, Rasha really is a risk-taker... She puts Klenia to shame. Replacing a guard and leaving her bound-and-gagged right where she's standing, as if daring other people to find out she's an imposter. (And then, of course, having fun mugging and robbing a couple of people who do find her.) Probably for the best that she is confined to the balcony during the mission.
Probably for the best indeed. She'd have robbed many women blind...
In any event, another brief but fun chapter, with more fun interactions and careful world-building. (I do wonder what was in that letter Zaïde pocketed.)
It seems this letter is written by some... "MacGuffin" guy... if that makes any sense.
I was hoping for some appearances by the original Pakal characters, so was happy to see Azeneth return.
It would have been criminal to not allow her to make a cameo or two.
The highlight of this chapter was the scene in the cellar room, which seems like a homage to the excellent "Session Zero" comic by DevanMuse. And the brunette guard is quite lucky - she may have lost the card game, but she was spared both a uniform steal and the undignified knockout from a frying pan.
Indeed, this is exactly the scene it's referencing. And paying homage too. It's basically the scene that motivated to finally motivated me to give shape to this story. I had the draft for concepts, characters, and some key moments for quite some time, but it was this scene that gave me the motivation to try and tie them all together in one story.
It's never a good sign when the narration is smarter than the characters.
Those pesky narrators... They think they can act as they please because they already know the outcome of the story...
The epilogue should be out soon to finish introducing the characters and their conflicts, and that'll be the end of the pilot. Curious to hear what your thoughts about them will be.
Author's Note: There it is, the epilogue of the pilot. Not as many uniform stealings in this part, but important character study to hint what their arcs will be.
**************
Ghazan: Pilot Epilogue
**************
Aisha hated traveling in a closed carriage. She was feeling cramped, constricted. The young woman kept wiggling in her seat.
Yasmin was sitting in front of her. She was holding her back straight, as if she was attending a state dinner.
When the two sisters were face to face with each other, the contrast between them was even more noticeable.
Yasmin perfectly played the part of the proper princess, with her proper bearing, her prim dress, and her tight hairdo.
Aisha couldn’t look any more different. She was slumped onto her seat, still clad in a servant outfit that didn’t fit her properly, and with messy hair tied into a loose ponytail.
When it came to physical beauty, Yasmin was just as average-looking as her twin, with small breasts and unremarkable hips. Yet, she looked more beautiful. Because she was at ease with herself, dressed in regal-looking tailor-made clothes, following strict rules.
Yasmin wasn’t taking her eyes off Aisha. The latter, on the contrary, was glancing at everything expect her twin sister.
“I don’t understand.” Yasmin finally commented.
“What?”
“Why do you enjoy sneaking up in places, like some common thief?”
“You didn’t seem to mind at one time… You used to love Azeneth's stories... In fact, I recall you saying you’d live great adventures as a spy.” Aisha retorted without looking her in the eyes.
“Yes. When we were children, and playing pretend. Then I grew up.” Yasmin calmly said, still staring at her twin. “Being born as princesses is a privilege, but it also means we have a duty towards our family and our kingdom.”
Aisha repressed an urge to scream her frustration. “Why can’t you understand this is the only way I can help my family and my kingdom?! I’m not like you. I can’t live inside the palace’s walls, trapped in a rigid protocol and formal princess dresses.”
“You could. You simply refuse to try. For now, all you do is mugging and ridiculing Father’s subjects and guests. You don’t seem to realize such actions have consequences. What would Felipe do if words spread you assaulted their embassy’s staff? What would our people think if they learned their princess has fun robbing them of their clothes? What would they think of the Crown? Being part of the royal family is a responsibility.”
Aisha bit her lower lip, but didn’t answer.
There was a long tense pause, then her twin warned her: “You’ve gone too far. Mother won’t take your side this time.”
For the first time since the beginning of the trip, Yasmin was sounding sympathetic, almost sorry. She knew Aisha had a special bond with their mother. She knew it would hurt her sister to see Yuka side against her.
Aisha looked at the carriage's door so that Yasmin wouldn’t see her cry.
**************
Zaïde was escorted to her home by royal soldiers. In front of the door, her mother’s own guards took over. Istir didn’t like much to have agents of Rashid inside her manor.
The young woman was led into Istir’s office room. Her mother was waiting for her.
Of course she was…
Istir wasn’t anymore the stunning courtesan she had used to be. She was older and plumper. – Pregnancy could do that. – Yet, she still retained a certain charm. To some, her chubby curves even made her more desirable.
“I heard of your little escapade. Luckily for you, Rashid and I agree it’s best to cover up the whole thing.”
“Luckily for me, but also for you.” Zaïde calmly retorted.
Istir ignored her daughter’s insolence. “I recall mentioning many times I didn’t like seeing you mingle with Rashid’s daughter. That girl is trouble. I don't want our name to be sullied when she'll inevitably go too far and cause a scandal.”
Zaïde kept quiet.
“I hope you at least learned valuable information…” Istir added.
Zaïde still kept quiet.
Her mother’s gaze was stern, and the mood in the room was tense.
“What do you hope to accomplish?” Istir finally commented. She shook her head. “I don’t understand your end game, my daughter.”
“Then it means you taught me well.”
There was a short pause.
“Indeed. Too well perhaps…” Istir concluded. “You are dismissed.”
**************
“The heist’d go without a hitch, my ass!” Beatrix complained.
“We weren’t caught.” Rasha objected.
“Aisha and Zaïde are.”
The thief shrugged. “So what? Their parents will give them a slap on the wrist, then sweep the whole thing under the rug. That’s how it works for rich folks. Besides, you know they won’t denounce us.”
“Mhhhhhh! Grmh! Mph! Mmm!”
“Oh, keep quiet already!” Rasha ordered the half-naked woman.
The thief tightened the rope ensnaring her prisoner’s upper-body, immobilizing her arms, wrists, and shoulders. The woman was also blindfolded and gagged with thick rags. Her ankles were bound together. Currently, she was only clad in a brown loincloth, and a green thin piece of cloth wrapped over and around her chest.
“I told you to let me shoot her when she passed nearby.” Beatrix dryly mentioned.
“I thought the challenge would be more interesting that way…”
The woman was a soldier of the city watch. One of the many guards who had been sent to search El Idriss’ streets after Aisha’s escapade in the embassy. (Her uniform actually laid discarded on the ground.) She had black hair and a dark skin. Her eyes were golden brown. Her haircut was a tight ponytail.
Even though the guard’s arms and legs were restrained, she was gagged and blindfolded, and most of her clothes had been stolen, the woman kept struggling against her ropes.
Rasha didn’t have much patience for soldiers. They were always so defiant. They just didn’t know when to quit.
“Perhaps you could shoot her now… It’s not exactly fun anymore.”
“You know how expensive those crystals are? There’s no way I’m wasting one on a woman who’s already restrained!”
Rasha pretended to sigh. “There are some people who just love being contrary…” she said, calling her victim to witness.
The bound-and-gagged woman groaned at her with a mixture of anger and incomprehension. Her muffled moans were expressing something along the lines of: ‘Why are you talking to me as if we were friends, sicko?’
Rasha hit her in the neck with the hilt of her dagger, knocking her out. The captured soldier grunted in her gag, and passed out.
Rasha pulled her by the legs, and hid her curled up in a small alcove.
“Here comes an other one.” Beatrix suddenly warned her partner.
“Just use your fancy blue crystals. The challenge isn’t fun anymore.”
Beatrix took position.
Judging by her attitude, the second soldier was searching for the one Rasha had captured. She was also a woman, which wasn’t surprising: While Ghazan’s army was mixed, the squadrons weren’t. Her brown hair were tied into a short ponytail. She had green eyes and a tanned skin.
The guard was also wearing the uniform of the city watch: a black turban, a dark brown leather breastplate, a purple tunic, purple trousers, and brown leather boots. She was armed with a spear. A dagger and a wooden mace were strapped onto her leather weapon belt.
"Fatma? You found something?" she asked out loud.
When the soldier passed in front of the alleyway, she suddenly sensed danger.
However, before she could act, Beatrix violently hit her in the stomach with the stock of her jezail. The leather breastplate absorbed part of the hit, but the woman’s breath was still briefly cut. Then, when the soldier bent forward, the bounty huntress hit the back of her head with her jezail’s stock. The soldier fell forward on the ground with a small grunt. A third hit on the temple was necessary to knock her out. She went still.
The redhead dragged the unconscious soldier out of sight, inside the alleyway, and dropped her burden at her accomplice’s feet. She smirked at Rasha.
“You’re just proving my point. Being contrary for the sake of it.” the thief objected.
Beatrix concealed the discarded spear. The two fugitives quickly then stripped the unconscious guard down to her underclothes: white open drawers and white bandages wrapped around and over the breasts.
Rasha glanced at the two nasty bumps on the second woman’s head. “I thought you’d have more qualms about attacking soldiers.” she remarked.
“Please. These women are from the city watch. They’ve never seen a real battlefield. Have them fight against Pakal’s armies, and then I’ll deign deeming them soldiers.”
Rasha rolled her eyes. She used her last coil of rope to restrain the second soldier, hog-tying her. She then tear down the sleeve of the embassy guard uniform she was currently wearing, and used strips as a cleave-gag and a blindfold.
The second soldier was left lying on top of her partner, concealed in the same alcove.
Rasha and Beatrix disguised themselves with the discarded uniforms and gears. Then, they exited the alleyway, pretending to be on patrol.
With their new outfits, leaving the block was easy.
“We split up here.” Rasha decided. She saluted her partner. “Till next time!”
**************
Aisha kept her head low. She was feeling the stares of her parents, her sister, and her brother.
Her father and Yasmin were looking stern. Their faces expressed their disapproval.
Aisha’s younger brother, Ahmed, was more neutral. The princess could see his mind was wandering somewhere else, thinking of the new invention he was building with the palace’s scholars. Ahmed clearly wished he didn’t have to waste time with this family scolding.
However, her mother’s expression was the hardest to withstand. In the past, Yuka had always taken her daughter’s side. However, this time, Aisha could see a mixture of worries and disappointment in her eyes.
“There has been quite the ruckus in town tonight.” Rashid finally commented. His voice was soft – he rarely raised it with his children – but he didn’t need to yell to convey his scolding. “The city watch was informed that five women were robbed, including Soha the Masked Dancer. I’ve received a message of don Esteban Mendoza. Four members of the embassy’s staff were assaulted. As well as two guests. One is an important donna of Felipe. I’m expecting a great deal of unrest in the streets tomorrow. And a formal complaint of the kingdom of Felipe.”
“There are no proofs…” Aisha mumbled.
“It’s not an excuse.” her father interrupted her. “Two women of the city watch have also been attacked. One is beaten badly. Do you know something about that?”
Aisha avoided his glare. “No.” Though she easily deduced who were most likely responsible. She mentally cursed Beatrix. Couldn’t the bounty huntress restrain herself?
“Luckily, nobody has died, so it’ll be easier to deal with the damage. However, this is not a reason to forget about the whole incident.”
“But the notebook-”
“-will receive the attention it deserves from my spies.” Rashid once again interrupted her. “I don’t deny it may be useful. However, gathering information is not the role of a royal princess.”
“I wanted to help the kingdom.”
For the briefest of moment, Rashid looked sympathetic. However, he quickly became stern again when he reminded her: “Then think of what will happen when our people learn their princess assaults them for their clothes.”
“There are no proofs-”
Rashid lost patience, but still didn’t raise his voice. “Esteban Mendoza doesn’t need proofs. He only needs his agents to spread rumors. Of course, most people won’t believe them. But some will. Unrest is already growing because of the piracy problem. A mere spark could be enough to cause riots. There could be deaths in the streets if the situation isn’t kept under control. My enemies will take advantage of the situation. Your actions are helping them.”
Aisha glanced at her mother, looking for any sign of support. “I just wanted to do like you…”
Yuka’s face remained blank. She didn’t answer. Just as Yasmin had warned, her mother wouldn’t be taking her side this time.
“We’ll have to decide what we do about this incident, your mother and I.” Rashid concluded. “I pray you’ve learned your lesson. For now, you are dismissed.”
Aisha left the room with a heavy heart, and an urge to cry in frustration.
**************
Beatrix went to her house, and changed clothes. She burnt the city watch uniform to dispose of the proofs, and slipped into her favorite outfit – a desert cloak.
Then she immediately went to a building a few streets away.
The place reeked of medicine and hopelessness. It was a hospice for war veterans. A place in which former soldiers whose injuries were too severe to reenter society could find a roof and a meal. The crippled, the legless… and also the ones who were trapped inside their own minds, unable to forget what they had witnessed on the battlefield. All those who couldn’t find a work to support them.
The head of the hospice went to greet her. He was a former army doctor called Halil. Just like Beatrix, he had been part of the military campaign against Pakal five years ago.
“Beatrix. Good to see you. You’re coming often lately…”
“Business is good. Here. Take this.”
Beatrix threw a purse of coins – the one Rasha had given her earlier that day. Halil caught it.
“You said you needed to buy more supplies, right?” the redhead added.
Halil weighted the purse in his hand. “I guess it’s best not to ask how you got the money.”
“You guess correctly.”
The redhead looked at some of the newcomers on the beds. They all had nasty burn marks on their faces, bodies, and limbs.
“An other encounter with pirate ships. I don’t know how they did it, but all the pirates seem to have gotten their hands on liquid fire. I’d pay good money to know who sold it to them...” Halil commented. He looked at the burn marks. “Nasty shit… Most of my ointments are powerless against it.”
Beatrix grimaced. The mere sight of the burn marks was bringing back painful memories.
The siege of Millhaco... The heat… The screams... The eerily quiet noises of jezails firing...
And Mira shaking next to her. “What’s this? It’s… It’s… God above! Liquid fire! They have liquid fire!”
Reflexively, the redhead grabbed her left forearm, concealed under her cloak. She knew the burn marks would never disappear...
“I heard there was quite the ruckus in town…” Halil commented while sorting out a few phials. He glanced at her sideways.
Beatrix shrugged. “El Idriss is always busy. How is Mira doing?”
“Same as always.”
The redhead grimaced. “She’ll never escape it... right…? Her mind will never move on… She’ll always be trapped in her memories of the war…”
Though, in hindsight, wasn’t it also her case? The bounty huntress regularly had flashes of the war. She remembered the siege of Millhaco. The heat. The thirst when their supply lines were cut. She and the others had to eat rats, to drink horse piss.
She remembered the liquid fire, and the people's screams when they caught fire. She remembered the Pakal ocēlōmeh who were constantly harassing them with their guerrilla warfare, trying to infiltrate their lines after killing the sentries and taking their clothes...
Some veterans of the Pakal campaign, once the war was over, had found they weren’t able to move on and forget. Beatrix and Halil at least were able to reintegrate into society. Mira… wasn’t.
Halil looked at the redhead sympathetically. “There’s been no true progress in five years… There isn’t much hope...”
Suddenly, a young high-pitched voice echoed. “Beatrix! Beatrix! A message for you!”
Someone was running inside the hospice. It was a young street kid. There were hundreds of boys and girls like him in the capital city. Begging, stealing purses, or doing small errands like carrying messages in exchange of money.
The kid gave Beatrix a small piece of paper. The redhead threw him a coin, which he nimbly caught before leaving.
The bounty huntress read the message. She pressed her lips together and frowned.
How did he-?
It was a message of don Esteban Mendoza.
Things were becoming complicated…
**************
Rasha knew it was pointless. She already had the jewels and pearls of the two party guests. However, when she had seen this lone rich woman’s expensive garments and jewels, she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation.
Among other things, Rasha was also a clothes thief. Sometimes, she needed no other reason...
The one-piece long dress was scarlet red, with a golden yellow collar and borders. Black threads were forming a complex arabesque pattern on the dress, one meant to evoke abstract flowers. The sleeves and collar were adorned with golden sequins. The woman was covering her hair with a headscarf, and a silver grey piece of cloth adorned with black beads was wrapped around her waist.
When she was a street child, Rasha had often spent hours observing rich passerbys, and their gorgeous clothes. At the time, she wouldn’t have even dreamed of putting some on.
Now, her dreams easily became reality. All they needed was a little push…
Or, more precisely, a few punches. Then dragging a motionless body out of sight.
The rich girl had braided waist-long dark brown hair, a tanned skin, and hazel brown eyes. Once all her expensive gorgeous garments and jewels were removed, she looked very unremarkable however, with a flat chest and a plain figure. Her undergarment was an ankle-long red slip with golden threads.
Unfortunately for the underwear-clad woman, Rasha needed something to bind her with. Most of the slip was therefore cut into makeshift bonds, which were used to bind her limbs. Two more strips were used as a gag and a blindfold. The bound-and-gagged naked body was left concealed in an alcove.
Rasha picked up the fancy clothes, and rolled them under her arm. She wouldn’t put them on now. She would try them on once she was in her hideout.
Rasha was many things. Rasha wanted to be many things. But she also knew what she didn’t want to be ever again. A poor pathetic guttersnipe, clad in rags, malnourished and always hungry, who had to beg and fight for scraps...
When the thief reached her hideout, a surprise was awaiting her there. A letter.
Rasha was working with several contacts. People who were paid to receive mission requests for her, and leave them in a place decided in advance. Somebody had left a message for her.
It was a message of don Esteban Mendoza.
Things were becoming interesting…
**************
Zaïde was sitting in the library of her mother’s house. It was one of the few rooms in which she knew she couldn’t be easily spied on by the servants.
The busty young woman was reading again and again an envelope and a letter.
In the turmoil of their infiltration’s aftermath, Aisha had completely forgotten the letter Zaïde had grabbed on Esteban’s library.
The content of the letter looked innocuous, but Zaïde suspected there was a code. The name on the envelope and the signature were most likely fake. However, Zaïde was the most interested by the ink and type of paper used.
Neither of these were from Ghazan – or from Felipe for that matter.
Whoever wrote this letter did a lot of efforts to cover their tracks, but they made one mistake when they didn’t use the proper paper. Zaïde didn’t necessarily think less of them because of it. Only a handful of people could recognize the origin of the paper and ink. Unfortunately for Esteban and his unknown accomplice, Zaïde was one of them.
"Thanks for the training, mom..." the young woman thought to herself with a smile.
She grabbed an atlas.
However, before she could read further, a servant entered the library to announce she had received a message.
Zaïde frowned, and grabbed the paper.
It was a message of Don Esteban Mendoza.
Even though she was alone, Zaïde’s face didn’t betray any emotion. Force of habit... However, her mind was already racing.
How did he know? Did somebody recognize us? Or did he make a correct assumption?
Things were becoming ugly…
**************
The three messages were similar. It was a proposition to work for Esteban.
He was offering a lot of money.
**************
THE END (for now?)
**************
And that concludes the pilot of this potential new story. Hope you appreciated this story. Let me know what you thought of it.
The most fascinating thing about this pilot is what it says about how much more dangerous the society has become since Pakal. So many women mugged for their clothes in such a brief story, to the point that five of the victims (Ummu, the brown-haired guard, the two aristocrats, and the rich girl) have their clothes stolen for non-disguise purposes!
Overall, this story did a nice job setting up the new characters and locales. and pointed to more potentially deeper and more complex adventures ahead. I'm intrigued by the opening with the pirate, which looks like it will come into play further in later stories. And the ending does set up an intriguing dynamic.
I'm not entirely sure how I feel about Rasha - she seems a little too gung-ho for my tastes, and her eagerness to mug women for their clothes even when disguises are unneeded seems a bit excessive. I know I compared her to Klenia in the past, but Klenia had some self-control. Still, she could be interesting in a group environment, working more directly with Aisha and Zaïde.
Incidentally, I'm liking the way you're developing Zaïde, who is intelligent but composed. I also just noticed that she's named after Istir's former friend. That's a nice detail.
Anyway, I'd say there is definitely promise to this saga. Judging by the map at the top of the initial post, there's a lot of places for the story to go...
rufusluciusivan wrote: ↑Thu Jan 11, 2024 4:08 pmIndeed, this is exactly the scene it's referencing. And paying homage too. It's basically the scene that motivated to finally motivated me to give shape to this story. I had the draft for concepts, characters, and some key moments for quite some time, but it was this scene that gave me the motivation to try and tie them all together in one story.
Ah, I know this feeling. I had a similar inspiration years ago with the Spacesuit series. I loved the Osvaldo Greco storyline where a trio of female astronauts are mugged and replaced on a space mission, and I decided to try telling my own spin on that type of story, so I built a bunch of characters around it. (I did not know at the time that it would take seven years to tell the story. )
To simon: Still resisting the urge to tell anything about what's in store for the characters... Though you can say the problem with talented people is that it's hard to bring them down a peg. And regardless of their morality, Rasha and Beatrix are very talented - one's the city's best cat burglar, the other is a war veteran whose body and mind were hardened by a bloody siege.
To tirepanted:
esercito sconfitto wrote: ↑Thu Jan 11, 2024 8:30 pm
The most fascinating thing about this pilot is what it says about how much more dangerous the society has become since Pakal.
Just your usual USB-friendly world...
I wasn't expecting the "pirate girl" (her name is Eloise) to leave such an impression, given that she's just a piece of foreshadowing and a way to show concretely show at least once what troubles the kingdom is facing - instead of it just being in exposition dialogues.
Rasha is meant to be the greyest character of the group. To put it bluntly, left to her own devices, she is a cat burglar concerned with money (and thrills). Clearly, she needs a group to reign in her bad habits. Though did Klenia truly have more self-control? She also did mug women for their clothes just for the thrill of it - the two key differences being that Klenia had Aster and Mikani who keeps her in check with a tight iron grip and that most of Klenia's gratuitous muggings happened off-screen. (Aster mentions in an early chapter Klenia used to disappear in-between missions for the resistance, and she took Shayna with her for gratuitous uniform stealings from time to time - as some sports women can attest . Sure, she matured after the events of Final Gambit...)
I was wondering if someone would catch on Zaïde's name. Istir indeed made good on the promise she made during the events of Pakal, and named her daughter after her late friend.
Thanks a lot for all your comments!
To esercito sconfitto: I can't make any promise, but I'll try. This kind of story is a lot more time-consuming than usual.
I wasn't necessarily expecting one comment per part. (Originally, I divided them more out of convenience.) Of course, I'm not complaining either!
I didn't notice the similarities until you pointed them out. The personalities are different though, and so will be some of the main thematics, so hopefully it won't feel redundant.
Though you can say the problem with talented people is that it's hard to bring them down a peg. And regardless of their morality, Rasha and Beatrix are very talented - one's the city's best cat burglar, the other is a war veteran whose body and mind were hardened by a bloody siege.