Warrior of None

Chapter 4: Death Creeps

“A dress?” Beetle stood in Lord Gallo’s Yenellii apartment. It was clear she was uncomfortable and much like the last time she stood among the fine rugs and fancy baubles, she was out of place—a leather clad gladiator speckled with the dirt of the day.

Gallo, on the other hand, was smiling at her as if she was a prize to be cherished and adorned with jewels, which in a way wasn’t far from his current intentions. In his hands, he held a red dress that eerily looked to be Beetle’s size. It covered the body well enough, but left the collar open, and was lined with very fine thread patterns and even flecks of silver. Lady Chiara stood behind Beetle, her presence pushing her towards the garment.

Gallo nodded and smiled wide. “Yours.”

“I hate it,” Beetle said, on instinct.

Pain hit Gallo’s face for a moment before he regained his usual smile. “Surely not, it’s perfect for you. Red matches you so well.” He looked past the short warrior to his employee. “Lady Chiara, do you not agree?”

“Yes, Lord Gallo, it has exquisite taste and the perfect color.” Her words were hollow.

“I don’t want the damn dress,” Beetle was starting to match her angry voice with her words.

“What do you want?” Gallo snapped back, his facade fading for a moment.

“You know what I want.” Beetle’s glare cut stone.

Gallo looked away for a moment. “This dress could get you there.”

“Bullshit.”

“I intend to take you out to the city in it, so you can enjoy the island, free of the arena.”

Beetle faltered for a moment. Ignoring the obvious issue with Gallo’s plan, it wouldn’t hurt to see the rest of Perdi, and maybe make some connections on the way. Smart as that sounded, a certain stubbornness seemed innate to Beetle. “I don’t give a damn what you intend,” her words shot him down.

Chiara’s ringed finger suddenly brushed Beetle’s arm and as the warrior leaned back to see what the woman was doing, she was suddenly ear to ear with her. “Listen,” the woman’s voice was even harsher than Beetle’s, even as she whispered. “You’ll take the gift and go to the city.”

“Fuck all I will,” Beetle shouted back. Chiara winced for a moment before whispering in return.

“Gain our Lord’s trust, and maybe the next time you take the dress to the city, you go without an escort.” Chiara leaned back and away, leaving Beetle wide eyed and thoughtful. Gallo was smiling from the sidelines, seemingly unaware of Chiara’s promise.

“Leave the room,” Beetle demanded, “and I’ll change.”

The dress was shoved into her arms by an ecstatic Gallo. “It’s a deal!”

“My Lord,” Chiara cautioned, but Gallo was already hurrying the servant out through the door.

“I’ll knock when I’m ready,” Beetle shot another glare. “And I’ll gouge out any eyes that come in before then.” She was getting the hang of her voice now. For whatever reason, her threat seemed to put a thoughtful look on Gallo’s face, and instead of some creepy answer or smile, he gave a sobering nod.

With a click of the door, Beetle was alone. A long breath slipped out of her lungs and the tension in her shoulders drooped. Lord Gallo was a creep. Beetle looked down at the dress in her hands and groaned. Lord Gallo wanted a doll, would she really give him one? Beetle threw the dress onto one of the lounge chairs, hoping it would wrinkle, as she walked over to the man’s desk that sat idle by a window.

Sitting on the wooden face, Beetle stared back at the crumpled dress. She wasn’t anyone’s toy, nevermind Gallo’s, but she couldn’t deny the benefit of being able to traverse the city. Her heels tapped against the side of the desk, swinging as she thought.

“Almost done?” Gallo’s voice peeped through the door.

“Can’t you wait!?” Beetle growled back. Was this a necessary compromise taking his offer, or was she just feeding into his disgusting tendencies. Beetle rolled her jaw in thought, eyes lazing downward to the desk. Idly curious, and perhaps eager to stop thinking about the dress, Beetle slipped off the desk and pulled one of the drawers open.

Inside the wooden compartment was an array of papers, nothing too unusual. A charter receipt for a voyage that ended in Perdi maybe a month or two ago, some slips about cargo receivals. Beetle flipped through the papers, only for her to suddenly stop halfway through, eyes wide.

A seriously dangerous face was staring up at her from one of the pages. It was a crude drawing at best, but all the identifiable features were there. Beetle’s face was on the page, the same face she recognized from mirrors and puddles. It was exactly the same as her own, save a few new scars and bruises she was sporting. A name was written under the drawing “Rewe de la Hache”. A Farrouxish name, monikered like a bandit or in this case, a pirate. The rest of the page covered a reward for Rewe’s capture. Beetle’s brow furrowed, was this really her?

Another knock on the door. Beetle pushed the drawer closed and stomped over to the dress. She would find out. Lord Gallo has nowhere to run if he is escorting her through Perdi after all. Kicking her leathers off, Beetle pulled the dress over her shoulders, opting to keep her simple wear on. The dress was long enough to hide her pants anyway. Looking more or less stuffed in a wrinkled mess, Beetle called out. “Ready.”

***

Beetle forgot what real air smelled like, what it tasted like. The sun was as hot as it was when it beat down on the center arena, but out in the city, a sea breeze cut it in half. Beetle was draped in her red dress, walking on the sun-baked stones of Perdi City’s streets. All around the warrior, tall buildings of plaster and red tiled roofs crowded, as did a medley of people.

Some wore similar clothes to Gallo, in the style of vibrant robes, while others wore a simple array of loose shirts and baggy pants tied at the ankle. Notably, none looked as beaten as the fresh gladiators that roamed the pits of Yenellii, giving Beetle the sense that the ill-gotten practice might be limited to the looming megastructure that dominated the landscape behind her. Whatever the case, Beetle was just happy to be free from its shadow, if only for a little bit.

A stiff breeze washed over her face, and the sparkle of the ocean glinted between the buildings in front of her. The dense salt and shouted sailor-slang told her the docks were just down the way, and it took every ounce of willpower not to run to them and hop on the first ship she spotted.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lord Gallo’s voice cut the scene. He had been walking on her left while Chiara took Beetle’s right. Beetle spared the man a glance before looking forward to the city.

“About as pretty as a painted egg,” Beetle answered. Gallo raised a brow and Beetle sneered.

“You’re in a wonderful mood, today,” Lord Gallo answered with unearned familiarity.

Before Beetle could answer, a leather ball came whipping by and bounced right off her knee. Beetle froze and watched the toy roll away from her. Two children, one boy and one girl, hardly past eight or nine, were staring at her in horror. With a scrunch of her brow, Beetle forced a kind smile and knelt down to palm the ball. “Is this yours?” She offered it.

With big blue eyes, the children nodded in silence. They were ignorant to the tension as Gallo stared at Beetle and yet were just as horrified by their accident. Even with the ball stretched out, they didn’t move, but glance between their beloved toy and the stranger they struck. Beetle stood up and took a stride towards them. Lady Chiara went to grab her wrist to keep her in the escort, but Beetle pushed through.

Suddenly free of her employers, Beetle knelt by the children and handed the ball to the little girl.

“We’re sorry,” the boy said. Beetle forced a kind smile, but she could tell the feature was unused to her face.

“Accidents happen,” Beetle answered. The girl hugged the ball defensively.

She shuffled in place, nervous. “Do you want to play?” It was an olive branch, one that forced a small laugh out of Beetle. The innocence of the question touched the cold warrior in a refreshing way.

“What game are we playing?” Beetle asked.

“Kick.”

“Beetle,” Lady Chiara called from the background, calling Beetle back to reality.

The warrior flashed a glare over her shoulder, then looked back at the children. “Can I have a go?” They nodded, unaware of Beetle’s plight. The ball was put into Beetle’s hands, and she flashed a smile at her accomplices. Her fingers tightened on the leather ball and with a sudden jerk, it flew out of her hands, as if she accidentally dropped it. The children giggled and as Beetle pretended to stumble to grab it, she kicked the ball between two plaster buildings.

“I’ll get it!” Beetle ruffled the little girl's hair before dashing after the ball.

“Beetle!” Lady Ciara immediately leapt after her, but Beetle had already cut into the shadows.

Lord Gallo’s voice followed her through the alleyway, the old fool likely chasing her. Wind whipped at her eyes as she ducked this way and that, finding the alleyway to stretch into a sort of shambled spider web of corridors, the buildings bundled up along the coast with little planning. Her sandals were soft on the gravel and stones, but Chiara’s boots were loud, and Gallo’s shouting was louder.

Beetle’s ears perked and as she ran, she listened. Instinct took over and after dashing and ebbing through different branches, she double backed just as Lord Gallo was cutting past. His eyes widened, but he couldn’t react in time.

With a crunch, Beetle rammed her elbow into the man’s throat, her small frame slamming into him with so much force, he was lifted off his feet and smashed into the wall of a building. Fear was in his eyes as Beetle snarled. “Who is Rewe de la Roche?”

All the color drained from Gallo at the question. Lady Chiara came swinging past a corner and stumbled onto the scene. “Beetle!” She shouted and pulled a long knife from her belt.

Beetle ripped Gallo from the wall and swung him to his knees. Gripping his shoulder and one of his arms, she twisted it, threatening to snap it out of its socket. “I’ll happily make your Lord half a man if you come any closer,” Beetle growled. She leaned to the fearful man’s ear. “Who is Rewe de la Roche?”

“Dead,” Lady Chiara answered for him. Beetle’s eyes were slits and she pressed down on Gallo’s arm, straining the bone with a creak.

“Argh!” Gallo cried, “alive!”

“Who?” Beetle repeated.

“A pirate,” Chiara answered again. “Wanted in Dalme, Kanespin, and Farroux.” The servant took a step forward and leveled her blade. “You realize the trouble you’re in?” Her voice was low, a threat.

“Then why hold back?” Beetle pressed harder on Gallo, his voice rising to a squeal. Through the pain, he gasped.

“Spoken…. Just like Rewe.” His eyes glanced up at her, it was a look that sickened Beetle.

Beetle looked down at him, suddenly fearful of something. “Am I Rewe de la Roche?”

Lord Gallo opened his mouth, Beetle was staring at him, waiting. As his tongue started to move but then steel flashed and Lady Chiara was next to them both. Skin ripped against her knife. Red fanned through the air, a bloody dance through the wind, and a gurgled plea followed it. Gore was bubbling in Gallo’s mouth, his throat wide open, and Chiara cleaning her blade.