This Villainess Will Not Die!

I could feel my hands shaking, and his posture had me wondering if these would indeed become my last moments in this hellish second life. I might be about to get beaten to death by this rabid dog.

“Please be calm, sir.” A voice broke me out of the 101 thoughts that were about to send me spiraling. I looked up at the man standing in front of the commander, catching a cold, piercing, disdainful golden gaze directed right to me. “She was not escaping. I bore witness to it all.”

The commander furrowed a brow, still hunched over at me. He turned sideways to look up at his golden-eyed soldier. “What?”

I spat out the blood pond that had formed inside my mouth, sitting up despite the numbness in my joints.

“I never tried to escape,” I stated, glaring back at the golden-eyed knight with as much, if not more disdain than he held for me. “I’m here…” I couldn’t fully open my mouth; my voice was barely audible. “To take a piss.” A rush of blood urged me to spit it out again.

I wiped the blood trickling down my nose.

A scoff left the lips of one of the riders still on their horses. He had a distinct scar instead of his right eyebrow, a firm and rubbery-looking lesion. Looks like a keloid scar.

“Quite the lady you are.” He muttered.

“... Is this true, Truman?” The commander turned to the golden-eyed man.

“Yes, sir.”

“I woke up very early with a sick stomach and needed to go to the restroom. Everybody seemed to have passed out for some strange reason. I was honestly quite afraid… Some knights were even sleeping outside, in the mud!” I made sure my tone was confused, and not too dramatic. “I met a coachman who was suffering from a hangover, or was drunk, I’m not sure. I asked him for the keys to my shackles and he brought them over, bless him. He entrusted me to Truman, this gentleman knight, who kindly escorted me out here to, uh,” I threw a sheepish look at the rider who laughed earlier. “go to the toilet.”

I can’t think of a better way to put this.

“… Soldier?” The commander glanced at Truman again, eyebrow furrowed.

“It is all true, Commander.” Truman nodded.

The commander’s skeptical air lasted only a moment.

“Right!” He sighed as his tense stance melted into a slouch and a smirk formed on his lips. “Our security is not so frail that a woman can escape through everyone and reach this meadow without a single person on her trail!” He laughed, looking for approval from his subordinates.

“That’s what I was saying all morning!” With a receding hairline and a missing tooth, the other rider giggled, wearing a proud look.

“Truman, your shift must be over now.” The scarred rider stated.

“I’m glad it finally is.” Truman’s eyes were droopy again.

“You have such shit luck, my friend.” The scarred rider said, grabbing the reins of his horse.

“All of the night shifts always end up within Truman’s fortune. In a way, it is amazing luck.” The toothless rider laughed.

“I shouldn't have played boulder, parchment, shears to settle the matter again...” Truman said, making everyone chuckle.

While they conversed within themselves, I stood back up (barely), and gently helped my jaw in place.

I breathed in and out, ignored the relief that I wasn’t facing breathing problems, and stopped moving my tongue in fear of touching one of the several bleeding injuries inside my mouth. I used my free hand to dust my disgusting clothes and comb my hair back down. I stretched a few strands above my shoulder so I could check it out again, and as expected, the barely golden strands from a day ago had turned an even dirtier, duller shade of grey.

“Well then,” The leader put a hand on both sides of his body. “Let us go back and load.” He ordered.

He mounted his horse and gestured for Truman to follow along with me.

Quietly, I did as they demanded.

The fact that no further questions were asked about the matter, despite the degree of anger with which the leader knight approached me, could only be explained by these men’s humongous pride, and it being hurt by the thought that I could have succeeded in leaving the campsite unnoticed.

I can’t believe the day has come when I am grateful for a man’s inflated ego.

But I can’t believe I’m dead, either, so…

“You deserved it,” Truman said, walking to my side.

I kept looking forward, discounting his words.

No, I didn’t. I didn’t fucking deserve to be beaten. I don’t deserve to be in this situation.

Before I realized it, my palm was bleeding from the pressure of my nails digging into its flesh.

More injuries to treat. This is ridiculous...

“Yeah,” I simply muttered, gently holding onto my jaw, suppressing the tears rushing to my eyes at the surging pain shooting from my face down my throat and up to my forehead.

It feels like my face will fall off.

Commander Blert Blach was no fool.

Every inch of his body itched to deny it, and in the end, he couldn’t but pretend to have been convinced, but he was no idiot. That woman was too suspicious for his liking. Her words weren’t believable in the slightest.

It hurt his very core, yes, but he had a legal duty to discover the truth.

Was that black knight a traitor? Was she indeed planning to escape? Could he finally fire that foreigner and kill that spoiled-bitch off?

The commander had to find out.

The muddy trail led to a yellowish meadow completing the one that stretched to their right, and there, the riders could see khaki-colored tents, extinguished bonfires' smoke drawing white, vague lines that reached into the bluish sky and distant figures walking back and forth, carrying things, taking down tents, collecting clothes...

Once Brett and his company became within sight range for the rest of the soldiers, the handful of knights who were rounded up next to the extinguished bonfire sprung up. Some of the servants stopped amidst their chores to spread the word, that 'What a relief! The Commander is back!'

The campsite was a mess, just like Blert had left it.

Most of the tents set up the night before had collapsed within themselves, leaving their fabric dragging on the ground for the hounds, the horses, and the people to stomp on.

The maids were running around, barely in uniform, collecting the scattered alcohol bottles, the clothing, the armor, and the food, hoping to tidy things up before it was time to leave.

Half the order of knights was within the forest, still looking for Penelope Ashdown, while the other half who were left to guard the campsite was now running downhill to join the found prisoner, their companions, and most importantly, Blert, their Commander.

"Commander!"

"Commander Blert, sir!"

Blert's little minions approached him and his riders with open arms.

Blert held back a grin to save face. He couldn't show how proud he was of himself. He had a reputation to uphold as the stoic, monster of a leader that he was.

Instead, he held up an arm, signaling the soldiers to halt before they scared the horses.

"Yes, yes, we found her," Blert nodded. "Now calm your ti-"

"Commander, we're so fucked!" Holison — the dumbest knight under his charge — cried out.

This statement was a call back to reality for Blert.