Ferals

Prince Sebastion's POV The Grand Melee

“I couldn’t help but notice your daughter down by the arena earlier. Are you really letting her participate today?” I ask General Stone as I join him on the mezzanine.

“Of course I am, Prince Sebastian. I’ve had her in training since she could walk, and there’s no other use I could possibly have for her, at least this way she can serve a purpose and contribute to society by defending the Kingdom.” He answers curtly, “If she can actually make it through the melee…I have my doubts.”

Perfect! I have heard that the General had no use for his daughter, leaving her to grow up in the barracks with the soldiers, raised by the Officers underneath him.  His only contact with her during her training.  I always assumed the rumors to be true, since she was never seen anywhere near the quarters he keeps in the castle.  As a child, I remember catching glimpses of the little, white-haired girl when father and I toured the soldiers facilities.  She has always fascinated me, unlike the simpering sycophants that are constantly throwing themselves at me. She is different, a woman worthy of my consideration.   

“Really? I have heard that she is fierce in combat training, have I heard wrong?” I ask.

“She is fierce, but she is still just a woman, emotional, weak.” He scoffs.

I smile inwardly, “Surely she has more worth than that? It would be a waste of female life to see it end in a skirmish against the blasted Ferals. She could contribute to our Kingdom in a much bigger way.” I lead.

The General’s face is unreadable as he asks, “ How so?”

“Well, if she is as capable as the rumors suggest, would she not make a worthy bearer of the Kingdom’s future heir. She does come from good stock obviously, and could produce a Warrior King to lead the future generations.”

The General’s face doesn’t so much as twitch as his steely gray eyes hold mine. “And if such an arrangement could be made, what of the things we spoke of earlier?” he asks quietly, his gaze shifting toward my father.

“I believe I can persuade my father into seeing things as we see them.” My lips curl into a cruel smile, “If not, there are…other… ways to achieve such lofty goals.”

The General narrows his eyes, frowning questionably, “We shall see.”

My father stands to raise his sword again, signaling the next match. Before he drops it, he announces, “This is the final match of the first round, after this match their will be a one hour reprieve before the start of the next round.” We all turn to witness the battle below.

I watch as Alessia shrugs out of a blonde man’s hold, smiling smugly while she swings her long legs around and drops to the outside of the arena. She slowly makes her way to the back of the line of men entering the arena. The men make their way in lining up against the arena wall, as she is the last to enter, the arena door closes behind her. My father drops his sword, “Begin!” he shouts. Just like all the matches before, the men charge to the center of the field, eager to prove themselves in battle. Alessia remains where she is, actually leaning back against the wall, making no move at all, her arms folded across her chest. She looks up to where we stand on the mezzanine and her top lip twitches in a small, tight smirk.

I glance over at her father, his face is unreadable, but his eyes narrow as they stare at one another.

“What is she doing?” I ask.

“Proving a point.” He answers without looking away from his daughter.

“And what point is that, may I ask?”

He turns to look at me, a sly smile of his own, lifting the corner of his mouth, “Not all battles are won with brawn, wars are won based on strategy.”

I nod in agreement and turn my attention back to the arena bellow. Alessia continues to lean against the wall, watching the men brawl in the center, as runners remove the unconscious bodies and help the defeated from the field.

Hmmm, he believes he can gain control my father and myself with the use of his daughter. Little does he know, that will never work.  This Kingdom is mine, mine alone, and no one will take it from me.  Let him make his little plans, I have plans of my own.

We continue to watch as the number of men fighting dwindles in the arena. Forty five minutes later, nine men circle two combatants who are punching it out in the center of the field. None of them notice as Alessia pushes off the wall and silently strides toward them, but I do. I watch as she gracefully stalks across the arena floor, silently approaching the largest man of the group from behind. His attention fixed solely on the two men fighting in front of him. Alessia comes to a stop right behind him, then taps him on the shoulder, just as one of the men in the center circle is knocked out. The large man turns his upper body around to see who tapped him, quick as a snake she strikes out, punching him in the throat. He strangles, both hands reaching for his damaged throat. She wastes no time and kicks him, hard, between the legs. The poor man drops to his knees, unable to even cry out in pain, she grabs him by the back of his head and slams his face into her knee. I hear his nose break from here, blood gushing from his crushed nose, he falls over, unconscious, into the dirt. Everyone in the arena, and the stands as well, falls silent. The fight between the two men in the center of the circle, forgotten. She turns and faces us, staring straight up into her father’s eyes, she smirks, then turns towards my father and bows. The crowd erupts in cheers, she raises her arms and strides to the arena door, her hips swaying with each lithe step.

General Stone turns to me and whispers, “Never underestimate your opponent. Now let’s go over a few details about this arrangement with you and my daughter, shall we?”

I drop my arm across his shoulders and reply, “Yes, let’s.” as we turn to leave the mezzanine.