Dragons, Dystopians, and Denial

That's okay, I don't really drink, was what Elias wanted to say, but decided against it. For two reasons, really: he didn't want Jerica to change her mind when she offered they quickly look through the town, and he wasn't opposed to the idea of drinking. Alcohol was just really rare, and the few times he had the chance to consume it, it always seemed to make him sick since it was poorly made. Something told him it wasn't like this in Beirania.

"Sounds good to me," he said with a nod, giving Mellie a quick pat. "Lead the way."

Jerica led the way into a tavern and glanced around. This was a more spacious area than the one in Elmira had been the night before. There were plenty of tables off to the left of the left. The bar was on the right. She smiled a bit as she looked at the rows upon rows of liquor bottles that lined the wall.

That's what I'm talking about.

"Go stand over there," she muttered under her breath, gesturing towards the far end of the bar so that he'd stop being underfoot all the time. It was only about five meters away -- close enough that she could keep an eye on him.

She walked up the center of the bar and leaned against it, examining the labels. It was so hard to read Nykerian -- and doubly so with the fading, sloppily written labels on bottles of liquor.

"What you got?" Jerica asked in Nykerian.

The barkeeper's eyebrows shot up when she spoke. He was a short, aging man with the sandy brown skin that was characteristic of Nykerians. He wore a stained apron that he wiped his hands on as he evaluated her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Does that affect what you've got in stock?" she countered.

He looked at her for another moment, then turned towards his bottles. "I have anything you could want. Tequila. Mezcal. Rum. Whiskey. Lots of beers."

"Let me sample your rums," she said.

Jerica heard some people shuffling in through the door, but didn't turn around to look at them. The fewer people that saw her face, the better. She glanced down the bar. Elias was still standing where she'd said, back turned towards her now, as he gawked at anything and everything that he could see.

The barkeeper set up five shot glasses and poured her a quarter shot in each one.

More people were walking in behind her. She felt herself getting tenser but still resisted the urge to turn around. She sampled each of the rums he gave her, trying to go as quickly as she could while still tasting each one. They needed to get going. This bar was getting far too full for her tastes, far too quickly.

"How much for a bottle of this?" she muttered pointing at one of the glasses.

"Two coins."

Jerica nodded and pulled them from her pocket and slid them across the bar. The barkeeper turned towards the bottles to pull a sealed bottle down for her.

"What are you doing in my country, boy?"

The hair on the back of Jerica's neck stood on end. She'd recognize that voice anywhere. Her head snapped towards the end of the bar and she saw Lord Femola standing in front of Elias, interrogating him in the Trade Language. She turned her head quickly to look away so that he wouldn't see her face if he looked this way -- she at least had dark hair to help her blend, even if she was too pale.

Shit, shit, shit.

Her mind searched for a plan to get them out of this mess. She glanced towards her right, at the door they'd come in. She realized that the men she'd heard shuffling in were soldiers. There were a lot of them.

If I'm not here, maybe Femola will lose interest in him, and I can come back to grab him in a minute. But, that involved relying on Elias not to say anything stupid. And that seemed to be a stretch for him.

Her heart was already racing.

Femola was the War Lord of Nykeria, and might be the singular person on this planet that hated her most of all. This was going to end badly if he saw her. And she didn't know how to go un-seen.

"I asked you a question!" Femola's tone was hostile.

Jerica didn't even have to turn towards them to know that Femola was glowering, trying to intimidate Elias. And probably succeeding. The barkeeper slid the bottle of rum across the bar to Jerica.

"Uh... beer?" Elias suggested.

Jerica rubbed her face. It was definitely too much to hope he'd keep from saying something stupid.

"You don't have a beer!" Femola snarled. Jerica could hear his palms land on Elias's shoulders, giving him a shove. "Who sent you?"

"Oh, I'm, uh, just here with my friend," Elias stammered. "Je--"

She didn't wait to see if he remembered to use the code name or not. It wouldn't matter. He'd already said enough to draw attention to the fact that he wasn't traveling alone. Femola might be awful at most things, but he was thorough enough to look for the friend Elias referenced.

Jerica leapt forward and grabbed Elias's arm and yanked him back so violently it cut him off. She shoved him backward and awkwardly forced him to stumble along behind her, tripping over his feet as she tried to distance herself from Femola.

Femola's entire countenance dropped and he gaped at her for a long moment. "It's not possible."

"It's not probable," Jerica corrected. She glanced around the bar. There were half a dozen soldiers, who were all perked up at the excitement. She looked back at Femola, picking up the bottle of rum and shoving it into Elias's arms. "Actually, you know what? You're right. It's not possible. This is all just one great big misunderstanding. We'll be on our way now--"

"GET HER!" Femola bellowed.

Sanguis. The name spread through the air like a hiss.

Jerica still had a hold of Elias's arm and was still forcing him along behind her, towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder as they neared. A new soldier walked in the doorway. His eyes locked on her and he instantly went for his sword.

Jerica yanked the dagger from her belt and leapt forward, driving it into his neck. Blood spurted into her face as she shoved the man forward, into the next nearest soldier, and yanked the dagger free from his neck. She threw the dagger towards the next nearest man, lodging it squarely in his throat and making him crumple on top of the first soldier.

She yanked her sword from its scabbard.

A soldier swung his sword at her. She knocked his blade to the side with a ferocity that made him stumble. She yanked another dagger from her belt and slashed his throat in a backhanded pass, then stabbed the dagger directly into the throat of the man approaching on her left. She left it lodged in his throat as he collapsed.

She whirled around and grabbed her sword with both hands, bringing it down in an arch so that it sank just above the soldier's collarbone and stabbed down towards his chest. She yanked the sword away and planted her foot on his chest to give the man a shove backward into Femola.

"You son of a bitch," she snarled, starting towards Femola. They'd see how he liked having his fingernail ripped off. Having a dagger sank all the way through his shoulder. Being in so much pain he blacked out then revived just to experience it all over again.

Two soldiers remained between her and Femola. One managed to get two swings in towards her before she slit his throat. His comrade didn't even manage to land a single blow before she sliced her sword through his neck.

Now it was just her and Femola. She couldn't wait.

Elias yelped.

She whirled around and saw that two more soldiers had entered through the door behind her while she was fighting. It yanked her out of her bloodlust for Femola. She yearned to kill him. But she'd promised Aerik that she'd get Elias to Crevon safely. She could always deal with Femola later.

Jerica transferred her sword to her left hand, yanked another dagger from her belt, and sank it into the soldier nearest to Elias's throat. She rushed forward and yanked it from his neck before he managed to collapse all the way to the floor. She lodged it in the throat of the soldier standing in the doorway, then yanked Elias after her as she ran over the man.

There were more soldiers in the streets, but none near enough to do anything about her. She sprinted towards the stables, still dragging Elias after her, too panicked to think about anything but watching for soldiers.

"On, on, on, on, on!" Jerica ordered, gesturing at Mellie. She shoved her bloodied sword back in its scabbard and yanked her bow from its tube and started hastily stringing it.

A soldier wandered out of a stall across the hall from them. His eyes went wide. "Sanguis!"

She yanked the dagger out of the back of her pants and sank it into his Adam's apple, then slipped a quiver onto her back.

Jerica turned towards the horses and yanked the knots out of their lead ropes, shoving the reins towards Elias. "Go, go, go, go!"

She was on Evan's back in an instant, yanking his head around to start out the end of the stable that neighbored the street. Four soldiers blocked their path, swords drawn. She sank arrows into each one of them in turn, kicking Evan towards the entrance.

"Faster!" she hissed at Elias as she turned around in her saddle to ensure he was following.

The street was chaos. More and more soldiers were pouring into it seemingly out of nowhere.

"Go, go, go, go!" Jerica shouted, gesturing towards the left.

She urged Evan into a canter, then pulled her right foot out of her stirrup and twisted around in the saddle, so that she was standing in her left stirrup, knee pressed against the side of the saddle, and right foot pressed against the back of the saddle to steady herself in an awkward kneel.

She settled into the rhythm of Evan's canter, losing arrow after arrow behind them, impatiently waiting for Elias to catch up. She yanked her empty quiver off and threw it to the ground, leaning forward to grab her second quiver. She managed to get it onto her back and fired more arrows at the nearest soldiers.

They were to the edge of the town now. The soldiers were starting to fall behind, even though Elias was barely managing to stay on top of Ellie in an awkward trot/canter mixture that she'd somehow gotten him into.

Then, he fell.

"For fuck's sake!" she snarled, leaping off Evan and yanking him to a stop in a fluid motion. "Get up!"

She grabbed the bottle of rum that he dropped and shoved it deep into a saddlebag, then looked back over her shoulder. The Nykerians were coming out of the stables, several hundred meters behind them, on horses.

Jerica grabbed Melle's reins and then jumped back on top of Evan, snarling at Elias. "With me! Get up here!"

She grabbed his arm when he moved too slowly to suit her. Her bloody hand streaked his tunic as she hauled him onto Evan behind her.

"Hold on to me!" she snarled. "Tight!"

She kicked Evan into action, urging him into a gallop. Not as fast as she'd gotten him to go last night when she was trying him, but fast enough to outpace the Nykerians, while slowly enough Mellie could keep up. For now. She'd drop the horse in an instant if she started slowing them down -- after she retrieved the rum, of course. They tore down the road, trees blurring by on either side of them.

Jerica ordered Elias to stand off to the polar opposite side of the bar, and although he wasn't going to complain, he had to bite back some sassy words.

Okay, mom. I'll stand on the kid's corner.

But he wordlessly did as she asked, and it wasn't that bad, really. It was actually rather nice to be able to blend into the background and watch people-watch. Jerica was right: Nykerians looked nothing like him, and so what he said to the stable lady was outright nonsense. Hey, who was she to judge? Maybe he had extended family here. Or was albino.

More people started to come in, but he tried not to stare at them too much. There was a picture framed on the wall that he stared at intently, and upon closer inspection, he was pretty sure that was the same map that Jerica showed him earlier. Well, not the same map, but same thing on the map. Continent. Or whatever they called it here. Were there other continents? Or was this one giant continent, like what Earth was called a bajillion years ago... Panda? Panga? He couldn't remember. He only remembered looking at the pictures during history class.

"What are you doing in my country, boy?" a man snarled behind him, interrupting his thoughts and deep concentration on the map at the well.

Elias turned around to face him. A Nykerian.

... Oh, he remembered this part in history. This was racism.

So Belrania had racism, but not slaves? Huh. Maybe he was getting his facts mixed up and they weren't connected after all?

His eyes flicked over to Jerica, and although her back was towards him, he could hear her screaming in his head: Don't say anything, you idiot!

So he only looked at the man, giving him a very awkward fake smile and stiff nod.

"I asked you a question!" the man repeated, incessant. He was starting to sound aggressive and hostile now.

Surely Jerica heard this. If she wanted him to shut up, she was doing a shit job in making sure he did.

His mind raced to think of an acceptable answer.

""Uh... beer?" he said, guessing it was perfectly normal to be in a tavern for beer.

"You don't have a beer!" he snarled, and Elias wanted to defend himself and say something like, 'Yeah, I just haven't grabbed it yet,' but he didn't give him any time to respond. The burly man reached out and pushed his shoulders, shoving him.

Elias stumbled backwards and looked up at him with questionable fear. He should have tried to deescalate the situation, but his brain froze and only had one stupid childish thought: wow, racism sucks.

"Who sent you?" the man insisted, glaring at him to show that he was serious.

Elias tried to answer quickly, not wanting to cause any trouble. "Oh, I'm, uh, just here with my friend," Elias began. "Je--"

He didn't even get to finish saying codename Jessica before he found himself flying backwards so hard it literally took his breath away. Pain shot up his arm and he stumbled backwards, trying to catch his feet but failing as he landed on chairs and caused a bigger ruckus than if he had just said Jessica.

Or so he thought.

He groaned, getting up on his feet and straightening the chairs, noting that of course Jerica caused this chaos. But he barely had time to think about that before a random giant bottle of rum was shoved in his arms.

Elias had about a half of a second to look down at it before Jerica yanked him again, sprinting towards the door with him on tow. She was lucky that he had the half-second to register the rum, because otherwise the sudden change of speed would have caused the bottle to slip out of his hands.

Men started to chase them, and it was happening so fast, Elias barely had time to figure out what was going on. And then Jerica let go of him and started going batshit crazy.

He was standing off to the side, mouth open and cradling the rum in his hands like it was a baby, not believing his eyes.

Stabbings. Slashes. Slit throats. Blood. Blood everywhere. Men falling. Men dying.

Elias felt his vision fading, his head being so lightweight. He felt his breath becoming thinner as he stared at the men in front of him, the life leaving their eyes as blood gushed out of their throats. They desperately tried to apply pressure on the broken artery, but it was a lost cause. She had killed them.

He felt vomit coming up at the back of his throat, but the shock value of it all stopped it.

What did she do to warrant this much vitriol? This much bloodshed? And violence? And hate? Dear god, Jerica, was this because of the rum? Did she steal it? What the hell did she do? Why was this happening? Why?

Suddenly a dagger went flying next to his head, and he let out a panicked yelp, turning around with terrified wide eyes. Two more men ran out of the tavern, and Elias only stood there with a deer-in-the-headlights look, not knowing what to do. Jerica then came to his rescue, but he had mixed feelings about this as she slashed their throats.

He wanted to complain. Say something. Cry. Yell. Puke. Something.

But instead his felt his hands shaking, his body trembling.

Jerica appeared to be high on adrenaline. She grabbed his arm again and sprinted away, even running over a dead man's body. This caused Elias physical pain. Emotional pain. Pain. Something.

None of this felt real. He felt his vision blurring and his hearing fading as Jerica yelled at Elias to get on Mellie. He stumbled forward with shaky hands, first completely missing the stirrups when he tried to get on, and then nearly falling off when he pushed himself up on the saddle.

Jerica had continued to fight, but he couldn't watch anymore. Just listen. Listen to them yell Sanguis and listen as she continued to slash and release arrows. Suddenly she had shoved Mellie's reins in Elias's hands and ordered him to go, but his mind was fuzzy. How could he..? How does he..?

He attempted to apply pressure and forced Mellie to go, but he couldn't bring himself to whip her. Somehow, though, it was like Mellie knew. Like she knew she was supposed to go fast, maybe because there was a ruckus or maybe because she was following her horse pal Evan's lead.

What was happening right now? Was any of this real?

He was following Jerica as they rode towards the distance and more and more soldiers started to flood them.

Elias tried not to focus on the fact that Jerica was whizzing arrow after arrow past his head. And he definitely tried not to focus on the fact that he was this close to nearly losing it. And by 'it,' he meant everything, but mostly the fact that he couldn't figure out how to stay on Mellie while she trampled forward. He was leaning in, his arms wrapped around her neck as he hung on for dear life while his body bounced up and down with each gallop. This appeared to give her mixed signals, and she was slowing down.

Suddenly Mellie suddenly jerked with no warning, and this was enough to send him flying away. He curled into fetal position and rolled on to the ground, with, weirdly enough, the rum bottle still clutched in his arms like he was protecting it. It rolled out of his hands when he came to a stop though.

He groaned but didn't have time to get up because Jerica was somehow moving so fast and grabbing his arm to force him up. With strength he didn't know she had, she lifted him on to Evan, painfully pulling on his arm and smearing blood on it.

Suddenly they were riding fast, and just like last time, he wrapped his hands around for dear life. Except instead of wrapping his hands around Mellie's neck, he wrapped them around Jerica, which would have been a pathetic scene if it were not for the fact that she killed so many people and they were escaping.

Elias's head was hurting, and he was feeling sick.

He didn't know how much time passed. Too much. It was a sickening blur.

But as soon as he felt Evan slowing down, he leaned over to the side and puked out his guts.

Jerica was glad that Elias seemed capable of clinging to her for dear life. That helped at least. She was trying to balance her bow and Evan's reins in her left hand and guide Mellie with her right hand and it would have been entirely too much to try to hold on to Elias as well if he hadn't been able to manage it.

But, if anything, he was holding on too tight, arms wrapped tightly around her ribs.

Her chest felt even tighter than his grasp. She scene flashed across her mind's eye again and again and again -- at normal speed, then slowed down, then reversing it. Trying to figure out what she'd done so wrong.

She clearly should have looked at the men entering the tavern.

If she would have known they were soldiers she would have collected Elias and slipped away before Femola appeared. But, then, who's to say that they wouldn't have run into soldiers on the street and had the same effect?

What even was Femola doing in that town, to begin with? She thought he stayed in the Castle outside of wartime. Why was he personally in such a tiny town? What kind of cruel jokes were the gods playing to make her run into him, of all people, there, of all places.

She hadn't done anything wrong in the battle.

Maybe she should have made more of an effort to retrieve her daggers -- she had lost three weapons -- and maybe she shouldn't have dropped the quiver when they were retreating so that she'd have it to refill. But the actual fighting had been flawless. She'd been quick, decisive, effective.

She shook away the horrific faces the soldiers had made as she was killing them. She was starting to get better at not looking at their faces -- they couldn't haunt her dreams if she didn't know what they looked like -- but she'd still seen plenty of grimaces that would follow her for years.

Jerica cut into Swaltou and kept going until she was satisfied they were safely within the bounds of the forest. The Nykerians wouldn't follow her here. Not until they went back for more reinforcements. She could take out the remainder of the soldiers that she'd seen but not killed -- nevermind all the criminals that lurked here.

She slowed Evan as they started to approach a small stream that cut across the path they'd been on. The soldiers' blood was drying on her face and neck and hands and making it feel sticky and tight. She needed to get it off her. She had to distract herself or she'd have a meltdown.

Elias leaned over the right side of Evan to vomit. Jerica slipped off the left side.

She pulled her bloodied tunic off as she walked towards the stream, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the ground behind her. Her arm was sore. She rubbed the muscles in her right arm as she strode to the stream then knelt next to it.

The water was cool flowing fast enough that it rinsed away the blood and carried it downstream as soon as Jerica plunged her hand into it. She scrubbed the blood off her arm, all the way up to her shoulder, and then also washed her face and neck. She had no way of knowing if it was in her hair, but she didn't particularly want to dunk her whole head in the stream even if she did. They weren't going to be in direct sunlight in quite a while.

Jerica looked down and realized that her undershirt was also coated in blood on the right side. She sighed and pulled it off as well, shivering as she rinsed her abdomen off with the frigid water. She turned and picked up both of her tunics and started back towards Mellie's saddlebags.

She bunched the shirts up, wrapping her tunic in her undershirt so that there was less blood that could get on other things, and pulled out a fresh undershirt, turning back towards Elias.

He was gawking.

She wasn't surprised. Men had a tendency to gawk at her when she was less-than-fully-covered, even though he couldn't see her chest. They either gaped at her muscles her at what they imagined they could tell of her bust --

She scowled when she realized he wasn't looking at either. Instead, his gaze was on the long, fat scar that stretched from her right hip up to her belly button -- the lesson of what happened when she tried to defy Biryn. She pulled on her undershirt then turned back to the saddlebags to get a tunic as well.

"We'll walk the horses to rest them a bit," Jerica muttered, grabbing Evan's reins. She waited until Elias had Mellie's reins and approached on her right side, then she strode forward.

The silence was oppressive. She couldn't stand it.

"Welcome to the Jerica-Is-A-Monster Club," she said at last, looking over to meet his gaze. "You're joining the majority of Beirania. Any questions about your membership?"

Elias had crawled over to the river to wash up the vomit on his face and the smears of blood that Jerica had left on his skin whenever she yanked him around. He was hoping that the frigid cold water would waken him up from this dream, but it didn't, of course.

His mind was empty. It didn't feel real. None of this did.

When Jerica was washing up, he couldn't help but stare at the blood still all over her in the places she didn't bother washing, and he couldn't help but stare at the giant scar near her hip.

What had she done? This clearly wasn't her first time of... this. Why were the soldiers attacking her? Wasn't she one of the soldiers, too?

There were so many questions swirling in his head, but he wasn't sure he wanted to say any of it out loud. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. He preferred to keep the Jerica he knew in his mind as is, even if she was a little haughty.

He walked Mellie in silence, and he was glad that Mellie survived okay with no injuries, and she was breathing and appreciating the little scratches behind her ear. It kept him grounded. Kept him sane.

And finally, Jerica spoke up.

He looked over at her with a dead gaze, not sure how to proceed with this. He didn't have time to absorb what happened today. He was sure he will, eventually, but right now, he wanted to deny it. Deny what happened. It didn't feel real. Maybe it wasn't.

Elias wanted to speak. Say something. Anything. Maybe joke that she wasn't a monster beecause she was a teenager, after all.

But the blood spurting out of the dead men's throats and their closing vacant eyes kept replaying in his head.

"I don't know," he said softly with an empty voice.

He wished she would just tell him. Just tell him what he wanted to know and not ask.

Jerica was so tense, remembering the battle, and thinking about what was going to come next, and how they'd stay ahead of the soldiers, and how she was going to manage to navigate Swaltou while keeping them alive, and what Femola knowing she was alive was going to do politically, and if they were going to be able to make it all the way to Crevon now that people knew she was away from the dragon -- and she just wanted to put out the smallest flame first: Elias.

It was hardly surprising that something like this happened -- that he saw, first hand, what a monster she was. She'd been expecting that. She'd just been hoping that she'd have more than a single day of pretending to be an innocent teenager rather than having to explain to him that she very well might be one of the most dangerous people in all of Beirania. But, at least explaining it would give her an excuse to focus on something other than the fact that they were royally screwed and that she didn't know what to do next.

And Elias... didn't know. He was so useless sometimes. Most of the time.

Jerica turned loose of Evan without bothering to stop him, then walked back to Mellie's saddlebags. She pulled out the bottle of rum and took a long drink. It burned her throat and tingled in her stomach. She brought it with her as she walked back towards Elias. She was going to need this, to get through a conversation with him at this point. If he thought she was impatient before, he really wasn't going to like post-battle Jerica. She actually was impatient.

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?" She grabbed Evan's reins and took another long drink.

Before Elias had a chance to respond, two men jumped out from behind a boulder, swords raised. One of them grinned crookedly. "I tell ya, I'm feelin' mighty thirsty just now."

Jerica was upset. Was she breaking down? She was drinking away like she was.

He didn't know how to react. To any of this. He just wanted to go off somewhere and... sleep. And hide in the shadows. Just forget about this. Exhaustion was creeping up on him fast.

He opened his mouth to respond, but then two men came out of nowhere with swords.

Great. More soldiers.

And their weapons were not nearby. At least, he didn't know of Jerica had hers. She seemed to invisibly pull out daggers out of thin air earlier.

Instinctively, he panicked and took steps backwards. He stumbled into the river but caught himself before he could fall.

It was all that Jerica could do to keep from rolling her eyes. These men were nothing but thieves, and it was obvious from the way they were holding their swords that neither of them had any sort of military training whatsoever. She calmly waited until Elias stopped splashing around in the creek, then swished her bottle of rum to be sure that the attention was turned back towards her.

"Sounds like a personal problem," she said flatly. She took another drink of the rum, relishing the burn, and then gestured over her shoulder with the bottle. "Tavern's that way a few hours. I'd be careful though. Femola's there."

She lazily re-capped the rum and turned away from them to slide it back in the saddlebags. She doubted they'd be stupid enough to attack her, but she didn't want to lose a single drop of the rum if they did. And she knew fully well what she was doing. Nothing seemed to rile men up more than utter indifference and nonchalance in the face of their threats.

The men exchanged a look when she mentioned Femola, then the braver of the two stepped forward glowering. "Guess I'll just have to take yours, then."

He was from rural Alheria, she decided, as she listened to more of his accent.

"Nah, I ain't sharing." She walked back to the front of the horse and crossed her arms, standing a mere three or four steps from the man. A silent 'I'm not scared of you' that he heard loud and clear. His face was getting redder and he got more flustered with each moment.

"Oy!" he said, whirling towards Elias. "Teach your girl to have some respect around men."

"Aww, don't be too hard on him," Jerica said mockingly, striding forward. She uncrossed her arms so that she'd be able to grab his sword if he decided to swing it, but got plenty close enough that she'd be in his reach if he tried. "The list of men who can control me is so short it doesn't exist."

"Who do you think you are?" the man spat, drawing himself up to his full height. He had a few inches on her.

"Jerica Ainsley," she said crisply, returning the challenging gaze but not even trying to mimic his haughty stance.

The man hesitated, deflating. He took an uncertain step back and looked at his friend with wide eyes.

The other man whispered. "Assassin?"

The man nearest her looked at her uncertainly. "No you ain't."

"You sure you wanna make that bet?" She stepped forward so that her chest was mere inches from his, chin raised so that she could glower at him even though she was much smaller. She switched to Atraian. "Because I'm game if you are."

The man instantly whirled around and ran towards his friend, who was already sprinting down the path as fast as he could. She smirked. She didn't enjoy fighting, but the reactions she got from dropping her name alone were priceless.

Seeing their swords reminded Jerica that she hadn't cleaned her own. She pulled it from the scabbard and rinsed the blood from it in the creek before rubbing the flat-edge on her trousers to dry it. She slid it back in its sheath and turned towards Elias. "And that is why you don't say my name in front of people."

Elias listened to the conversation, his boots in the water with the hem of his pants getting wet. Jerica said their name, the men said the word 'assassin,' and then they went running.

Jerica... an assassin? ... Was that just another implication of soldier? ....

He watched as she started to clean her sword and then slowly stepped out of the water, feeling lightheaded.

"You're an assassin?" he asked weakly, not sure if he heard the men right.

There it was.

Initiation into the club.

Jerica took a deep breath, trying to think of how she could even go about explaining it to him. She'd never met someone who didn't know of her even if they'd never met her. At this point, she felt more like a folk legend in the rural parts of Beirania than a real person. That's because you're not a person. You're a weapon.

"Yes."

She swallowed hard. She was turning into Elias now, giving single-word answers when it was clear she was being asked for an explanation.

"Well, King's Assassin." Jerica started forward with Evan in tow, sloshing through the creek to get to the other side. "Which is kind of different from normal assassins... but kind of isn't? It's... complicated."

She put her hand on Evan's head and pulled his cheek down until it was brushing her own, not wanting to look at Elias to see his horrified expression. The judgment. The fear. The disgust. She'd seen it all before and she didn't want to see it again.

"But, yes." That was the core of the issue. She sighed, patting Evan's head. "You don't get an anti-fan club just for being a teenager in Beirania. Mine was..."

She didn't know how she wanted to end that statement. "Deserved" didn't feel quite fair, since it was Levin and Biryn at fault more than her. "Earned" also didn't seem to be the right word since her reputation spread far into corners of countries she'd never even set foot in.

"...Complicated."

Elias watched Jerica as she tried to explain, but she didn't really reveal that much. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was better if he didn't know. He could understand that.

He tried to push down the vivid memories and the scared look of the men that ran away. They all seemed to see her as some sort of monster. But...

Elias didn't want to see her that way. He'd choose to not see her that way. He understood. And he definitely understood what 'complicated' could mean.

"That's okay," he said softly, biting down the trembles. He had to remain calm and collected. "You don't have to explain everything. Just... can you tell me what I should know? Or need to know, for this... journey."

Because clearly, she had been lying about some things.

That was a fair question. Request. And, it might make him more likely to follow her lead if he knew the truth. He was going to get them both killed if he decided not to listen, maybe even a single time.

But where could she even start?

He needed to know her reputation -- but she couldn't very well tell him that without telling him how she'd gotten it. She sighed deeply, choosing her words carefully.

"There is a sorcerer named Biryn, back in Atraya, who developed an experimental serum that he thought could make super-soldiers -- fast, strong, ruthless." Her voice was too soft. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to be a bit louder. "He needed a guinea pig to test if it was safe and got his hands on me when I was an infant.

"I... can't remember a time in my life that I wasn't training. Hours, every day. Hand-to-hand, swords, bows, staffs, you name it. Running, push-ups, sit-ups -- whatever would make me stronger and better at fighting." She scratched Evan's neck absently. "I... accidentally killed a physician when I was eight. It wasn't my fault."

She felt herself getting defensive, even though Elias hadn't said anything and she was still actively refusing to look at him.

"It wasn't my fault," she repeated. "He gave me a full dose of the serum before I was ready -- I'd been getting half doses -- and I lost control of my body and..." She cut herself off just before her voice broke and cleared her throat again. "It wasn't my fault."

She took a deep breath and continued quickly, all in one breath. "So then Biryn realized it was working, and so I started having to train eight hours per day instead of just four and I got really good at fighting and so when I was twelve Levin -- he's the king -- decided to make up a new position and started calling me "King's Assassin" and using me to scare people."

She rubbed her face, wishing the tightness in her chest would go away.

"It started out with little things, like executing insurrectionists and punishing Barons who tried to skimp on taxes, but it has just gotten... worse." She took a deep breath and wrapped her arm around herself protectively, trying -- and failing -- to not think about all of the horrible things she'd done. "So much worse."

She rubbed her scar under her tunic.

"I basically turned into Levin's arrow. He'd point me at someone then I would have to go do horrible, horrible things. So I joined the military last year because I thought that would make things better because Derik -- he's the War Lord -- is much better and I thought that would make Levin have to leave me alone but that only kind-of-sometimes works and now I'm stuck in both."

She was saying too much. Oversharing.

"Anyway, long story short, my name is basically a threat at this point. I'm a bad omen that you never want to cross paths with. Everyone either is terrified of me, or hates my guts, or both -- usually both. So our best chance of surviving this journey is to do our best to make sure people don't know who we are.

"The barkeeper last night was suspicious but I assured her that I wasn't who she thought I am, and it was fine. Femola..." She sighed deeply. "Femola and I have a personal grudge in addition to a professional grudge. He would have killed you without a second thought if he'd known you were traveling with me, and I didn't know how to get you away from him without him seeing me and... well, you saw what happened once he saw me."

"So... I guess what you need to know." She finally looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since starting her ramble. "Is that no one, no one in this realm is neutral towards me. Even if they've never met me. Everyone thinks I'm a monster and they'll either run away or attack us, depending on who they are, as soon as they even have a suspicion that they know who I am."

Elias listened intently to Jerica explain the situation, finding his arms wrapped around himself, almost like he was giving himself a hug. Or maybe it was instinctual, like he wanted to give her a hug, but knew it was not in his place to ask.

He wanted to wait until she finished talking. He wanted to empathize. He wanted to understand.

More than anything, he wanted to understand.

And he did. More than anyone.

Out of all the worlds and all the people he met, maybe there was a reason fate put him with Jerica.

"Jerica," he began slowly, gently. He pushed away all the anxiety and all of the nerves. He had to compose himself for her. "I understand. More than you can imagine. And I want you to know: you're not a monster. You're only painted to be one. You, as a person, are not a monster. I've met monsters, and you are not one of them."

He looked up to meet her piercing green eyes. She was hard to read, but that was okay. He tried to look as empathetic as possible, but it was hard to not let the sadness and pity leak out too.

"None of this was your fault. You had no control or no choice. You don't deserve any of this. You're still so young..."

Elias sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his arms around his body. He felt defeated, like he lost. Like he was too late.

"I just wish there are words I can say to you that will make things better," he said softly.

Because there wasn't; not without reversing the serum and physically changing herself.

Not without removing her abilities, if that was even possible.

He just wished he could have helped, or helped prevent this somehow.

He wished he could have done something, somehow, than watch another person suffer a similar fate he suffered.

Jerica didn't breathe as she waited for a response. There it was. She'd laid it all out in the open and now he knew she was a complete monster. She tried to brace herself for how he was going to respond. Half of her expected him to make a run for it -- to want to get as far away from her as he could as fast as he could. And she didn't know what she'd do if he did. Chasing him down wasn't very well going to make him trust her more. But she'd promised Aerik she'd get Elias to Crevon safely, and there was no chance this boy would survive Swaltou on his own. He wouldn't last to sundown without getting robbed and they'd see how long his vegetarian ass lasted out here when he didn't know what plants were edible and which were poisonous.

"Jerica..."

Here it was. She made her face devoid of emotion. He wasn't going to get the satisfaction of making her cringe. No one got that satisfaction. Not any more. She'd deal with his emotional damage later -- for now, she had to pretend to be unphased so it'd be more natural when she inevitably told him where he could shove his opinion.

"I understand. More than you can imagine."

You don't. You can't. She felt herself getting tenser, waiting for the 'but' that was about to come. 'I understand you were under pressure BUT that doesn't excuse you from your personal responsibility. You can't act like a monster and then pretend not to be one'

"And I want you to know: you're not a monster. You're only painted to be one. You, as a person, are not a monster. I've met monsters, and you are not one of them."

She blinked, too dumb-founded to have a response to that, but also too well-trained to let that confusion cloud her expression. What did he mean she wasn't a monster. She'd just told him that she was. Wasn't he listening? He clearly didn't understand what she'd meant by 'horrible things' -- maybe she didn't inflect it clearly enough.

He looked her in the eye. It was bewildering. He didn't look scared. Or angry. Or... even judgemental. If anything, he almost looked sorry for her? He clearly didn't understand who she was. What she was.

"None of this was your fault. You had no control or no choice. You don't deserve any of this. You're still so young..."

She swallowed hard. She wanted, so much, to believe him. It wasn't her fault. It was Biryn's. And Levin's. They were the ones who gave her the injections and forced her to fight and sent her on all those awful missions. She rubbed her scar again. She got hurt -- and kept getting hurt -- until she'd comply. It wasn't sustainable.

And then, Elias deflated entirely. "I just wish there are words I can say to you that will make things better."

Jerica stared at him dumbly for a long moment. That... wasn't the response she expected. Wasn't the response she deserved. Aerik had expressed similar sentiments to her, but she was still waiting for him to come to his senses and realize she was a monster. But, apparently, she had Elias fooled too.

"You mean..." She blinked several times, trying to think of a smart response and coming up short. "You don't think--?"

Her brain felt like it was hitting a brick wall. He didn't think she was a monster? He realized it wasn't her fault? He... had sympathy? She couldn't comprehend it. No one felt bad for the King's Assassin. Her victims, sure. Even her subordinates or servants got sympathy. But her? Never. She was the weapon. The evil.

"You're not scared of me?" her voice was weaker than she'd meant for it to be, but it was the crux of the issue. She cleared her throat and looked away, mentally kicking herself for sounding like such a kicked puppy. She was better than that. Her voice got a bit harsher than she'd meant, overcompensating for the weakness. "Of what I might -- could -- do?"

Elias wished he had the courage to reach out and hug Jerica. Hug her, comfort her, and tell her everything would be alright. But instead he stood there without moving, only watching as she sputtered out the words in disbelief, her voice sounding strained and weak.

This felt... so familiar. Her words cut deep into him, more than he'd like to admit. This wasn't just about Jerica's story anymore. This started to feel personal, like this time, he could somehow stop someone from going through a similar fate. Like he could stop someone from going through the same type of horrendous suffering.

Like it gave him some kind of purpose he desired.

"I'm not scared of you," he said gently, more confident this time. The visions of bloodshed felt faraway in his memory now. It was still there, sure to haunt his dreams at night—it always did—but he couldn't think about that right now. Jerica was more important.

"I'm scared of you as much as you're scared of me," he reiterated, lightly smiling as he tried to lighten the mood, even a little. "I think you're... I think you're simply misunderstood. And I think it's unfortunate that you have these circumstances."

Elias paused just a moment, trying to make sure he said the right words. He wanted to say the things he wished someone had told him. The words were buried in there somewhere, because it was something he kept repeating to himself over and over these past years.

"Your powers, abilities, whatever you want to call it—that's the monster, not you. You still have emotions. You still care. And that's what makes you human, not a monster."