One of the Wo-men / Part I Redemption

[Caira Ayryn]

A wincing memory flashed before her eyes. An image of that face, his face. That stupidly courageous idiot that had died for her. Utterly stupid because she was a Prime. Completely idiotic because it was noble and one of the kindest things a friend had done for her, yet he was even a stranger. Courageous because he was able to hold a smile even as he faced his own death.

Now the stupidly courageous idiot may even haunt her for the rest of her eternal life! Why did it have to be now? Now that she felt as though she accomplished so much and was finally on the right track to her freedom? Freedom, what a joke. Caira told herself. It’s time to realize it is something I’ll never have. These conflicting ideas confronted Caira as she was set to grimace and ponder upon the distinctions of the past. Caira was now an established bounty hunter under the shadowed alias ‘Ayryn’, which would soon be a title to identify the girl with the glowing violet eyes in the Kingdom of Camelot. Minas Tirith was talking. Abuzz with gossip and fear.

Apparently, after her and TBG had dropped off Magus in the Minas Tirith castle-prison, he had somehow broken free. It had even baffled the guards, as they had locked down the cellblock for the night and in the morning, the door was left wide open. Flauntingly open. It was as though someone had given him the key.

Toybox Girl had left to hunt bounties, after inviting Caira, who declined the offer as an optimist who seemed to prefer the hopeful idea of redemption.

The strange librarian had dropped cues about how she was to ameliorate herself into a better Prime and later she promised herself she would return again after she had read his tomes, questing for Omni once more. That was, however, after she had ascertained information involving something he wouldn’t tell her, though, she imagined it would be hard his his wordless condition.

Okay, he had mentioned something about sleeping, but I was never great at riddles. And how am I supposed to quest for the future if I am unable to stop reliving the past? Caira reflected on her dignity and despite her nearly immaculate history, she now mainly suffered from one, seemingly incurable thing: The pain of regret. Though she recognized that suffering can prove to be a mold and an immeasurable asset in some situations - and in essence a great motivator - this was, however, only applicable if one is able to overcome their qualms.

Caira, was no where near overcoming the flurry of scratches that could only begin to scathe the surface of her psyche. Omnilium, Hope, Pain, Death, Loss, Truth, Justice, and Redemption.Each had their place even before her present turmoil, questions about her past frequently surmised in her mind and distracted her from the present. How did I get here? -No, not to the Omniverse, but here where meteorites struck with my landing and I was permanently tagged with a name I know nothing about. Truth be told, Caira considered her new title ‘Ayryn’ as a much more applicable name. It hadn’t been so easily given, it had been created. And little did she know, more meaning was soon to come.

The pondering man seeks... The pained man... Reflects is it? Was that the old proverb the monks had taught me? Funny, I’m not sure I remember, though maybe I want to forget.

Hollow. Ah, yes, that was the word. Hollow with regret because she had sins to atone for. But how did it fit into the proverb?

The woman had overcome most of it, she had even surpassed the fact that there would be no way to save her home from its eventual destruction. “I have to become stronger,” she said out loud, “And what better place to acquire some training than to challenge a hundred experienced men to battle with a single sword?” Well, it wasn’t quite so simple. But it would certainly be done.

So far, during her lovely stay in this strangely opaque world, she had killed two innocent men. And in consequence, killed the men they were destined to save. This arduous obligation was one she would soon succumb to because of the uncompromising loyalty to her own judgement, the same preserved sense of morality that told her something was wrong. She sighed, “Well I can’t start out on the wrong foot in this world, surely I’ll trip.”

Using words to describe her current peril made it easier to act on. Sadly, it wasn’t her feet at stake, but her fate. Her pale fingertips caressed the leather journal, the one she had held for only a transient time and the one that was not hers to hold. ”Why did I keep it?” She then opened up to the page she had stashed within it; her own page yet entirely separable from the feeble shredded binding. She wrote down another word. It was the only word that she realized would atone for the guilt she felt on her burdened shoulders. The Prime would become the word and fill the void of the death. Caira would sacrifice the freedom she valued so much after being freed from monk-hood. Caira would become a soldier.


Taking orders, taking orders, it was all she had ever known; once more she fell into the empty pit that invited her with the sweet temptation of comfort. Responsible only for obedience. A disturbance rippled through her mind, resisting the despair of conformity and yet, she recoiled at the idea, telling herself - pleading with herself - what she knew at the time to be true: I am good.

But people change...

The gal approached the upper layer of Minas Tirith with angst creeping in her fingers. Yet she was a little ecstatic at the idea of new possibilities. Yet she anticipated a possible problem and feared a black spiraling portal of consequence for any possible misunderstanding. Meanwhile, the usual recruitment officers on duty had departed and were visiting the Nexus.

Caira strolled in, mounted on horseback - no pegasi to nearly fall off today- and quickly dismounted. As she approached the mage had found that Camelot’s training base was at the heart of the stone city. It was strangely quaint and somewhat masculine as most of the chiseled rocks were carved of slate and limestone. Her grip on the journal tightened as she grasped the thought that pulled her through the intimidating moment, convincing herself, This will make you stronger. How else could she fight against the sorrow that she earnestly fought against: Only villains killed heroes. Two were dead because of her.

Posted on the stoney wall next to the office was s scrabbly piece of paper, a poster of recruitment.

The illustration on the flier included an image that reflected the valiance and courageous nobility while including the appreciation of honor a soldier of Camelot should convey. Aragorn’s presence was implied on the poster that mixed with colors of silver and metaphoric images of kings, gods, and battalions.

[float=middle]Calling all those with honor, those who are willing to fight against injustice, and those who are willing to serve King Aragorn in the Camelot Army! We need YOU!

Location: Camelot’s Capital, Minas Tirith! Enlist today![/float]


The advertisement was brief and got the point across with a low-budget painting. Caira closed her eyes as she saw it, be it chance or fate, she was at a crossroads of the person she would choose to become. The Prime’s eyes glowed, emitting the somber light she felt within. A debt had to be paid, if not for her sake but for his.

The Prime approached the enlisting division. The office was a wooden cottage with dust accumulating on the doorknob. She rapped repeatedly on the ligneous door which remained locked from the inside. After ten minutes of repetitive drumming and finally, through the small foggy window, she saw a man with a cigarette in his mouth as he called through the door, “Alright, alright, quitcher bangin’!”

The authority opened the gate and muttered to the female Prime, sizing her up in a dismissive glance, “Who are you and what do y’ want?”

“Hello. I’m responsible for General List’s death. And I’d like to earn redemption.” It was a candid statement. She didn’t speak her name or in what way she had caused his death but it was apparent that she was ready to contribute much to the force and free her shame that was bound by her previous failure. The failure of not saving List’s life.

She would earn it. Fight for it. Win her pride back fair and square no matter the cost. And what better way was there to fight for the cause he had died for? Camelot. To become its best and fight for the same cost of her murdered ally. Even still, she could use some training, she needed to adapt to the worst conditions if she were going to the other verses and later face Omni.

“You are the one that hired the assassin, Kyrias Peak?” The man’s eyes sharpened and like a knife, turned on her. His menacing glare overcame her and he was blinded by the hatred.

“Oh... no sir, I-”

“It is my understanding that-”

“I didn’t hire anyone, I was just the unlucky person who was there when it happened. I feel responsible because he was murdered in front of my eyes. In fact, he pushed me out of the way. So as to make amends, I plan on becoming a soldier for the Kingdom.” she explained

“Ah, I see. But don’t expect me to marvel at your misplaced resolve, girl.” he seemed relieved she wasn’t an assassin, spy, or otherwise and the tension stagnating in the air evaporated. “So yer a Prime then?”

“I will be Camelot’s best.” Her eyes flashed to his as she took in his flinching gaze.

“Alright, Prime. Sign your name on the dotted line...”

Caira felt she had made it clear and convinced the new recruit trainer that she was not to be a pawn, yet still wanted to be trained exactly like the rest. He had mentioned there would be no problem with that and told her Primes only got one sort of ‘special’ treatment. Whatever that meant. She also specified particular terms which were included in their agreement such as that she was free to pursue other missions in other verses provided she make annual rounds returning to serve the Kingdom.

The man groaned at the arrogant Prime. He was glad to have her, as he told her on the tour of the grounds but her demands, while reasonably obscure, set his mind on her too primed attitude.

“That’s the meal hall, the other is the dorms. That one is yours,” he pointed and they continued their inspection. Caira liked her cicerone, whom had forgotten to introduce himself as Lead Training Captain Lunch. It was said he liked to “crunch” on the new recruits’ souls and ruin their dreams of becoming knights under Aragorn, she later found out from a girl named Kikk.

“Thank you for the tour, Captain.” She said as he nodded in response and dismissed her.

Training began. The starting drills were very basic and the new Prime fell in line with a marching platoon. The exercises commenced. During a break she thought she heard some distant murmurs over her shoulder, whispering the label ‘Prime’ as though it was a detestable term.

[Caira Ayryn]

“You’ll be paired up with Trevor here.”

Gasps from the fresh-blood soldiers escaped as the commanding officer continued, “Yeah, his other sparing partner is in the hospital,” Because he put them there, “But I think a strong Prime like you can handle it.” The Captain didn’t give a pittance that she was a girl, but he condemned her prime status as the mass of soldiers moved out of the way to reveal a brutal looking secondary. Her foe.

Trevor. Tall stature, lithe frame, and eyes that seeped with cunning intent. She sized him up. “Alright,” Caira said. Her gaze fell on the man she would soon tackle and whole heartedly fight against.

“Grab your swords men. And, girl.” Lunch gave her a lasting look, his expression, more than condemning. They counted her out before she could take a breath.

“Wait.. We’re fighting with real swords?” The monk questioned in disbelief. This was her first day of training and she didn’t want to be responsible for cutting off someone’s arm, permanently. List’s face flashed in her mind. He was strong, but he was also a high ranking officer, WITH armor she reminded herself. He had also been banished in her place.

“Oh jeez, is the Prime complaining already?” Someone sneered.

“Now, let’s have a clean spar Prime, no funny business.” Her training officer said casting a glance, No powers.

Caira went over to a small wooden cart, stacked high with rusted swords. The girl picked the only one clean of rust before returning to her sparing partner. After extending an unintimidated hand to promote a shake, as was customary, at least where she was raised.

The lifted hand was left hanging empty. Her gesture, unreciprocated.

Suddenly she sensed the speed of his muscles tense together and with ease his hand flew before her eyes, into her line of sight. The worn leather hilt of the blade, she grasped in her palm and it instantly fell to the ground. Before she could even respond with a startled blink, her opponent had clasped the second sword in his hand. She was left swordless and perhaps had underestimated Trevor.

The disarmed Caira was not only shocked at his potent disregard for the shameless stealing of her weapon, but left aghast at his insurmountable speed. She could learn a few things from this Secondary.

Her eyes fell on the sword she had chosen with a strange curiosity as he held it's helm in his hand. What did expect her to do now?

“Summon your own, Prime.” Trevor said, as if answering her question before revealing a disparaging smile.

‘Trevor,’ now wielding two blades to her zero, smiled sadistically and before she could blink, cuts lined her arms and slithered through the ripples of her cloth attire before leaking silver from her broken skin.

Of course, now the noise in the camp had hushed into a small lull as everyone who was dueling their opponent had stopped to watch the match intently. Even the training captain had paused to watch the unknown Prime battle his best soldier. Little did the hopeful new recruit know, this was a fight she was fated to lose.

The sleeves fell from her shoulders and hung at her wrists in a heavy clump, revealing ribbons of silver blood pooling on her arms.

“Something wrong, Prime? You didn’t think you were better than us just because Omni picked you to come here, did you?” Trevor antagonized.

For the first time, Caira took his words literally. The thought had never really occurred to her that she was better than any of the men in the camp and now, she could see the reason behind their very active resentment. They were all in this base because they were beginning anew, serving the kingdom, among other things. Trevor didn’t seem very interested in her response as he made another chip at a lock of her dark hair and it fluttered to the ground.

Caira stayed silent as she observed his enjoyment; he was toying with her, thus her shredded hair. “Aren’t you going to fight back?” He asked impatiently and waved around her sword like a trophy. The men around her sniggered, meanwhile someone watched from the corner of her eye. Distinguished, yet hardly visible unless she wanted to pull her eyes away to catch a glimpse, only to face more blood.

She was crippled and her strategy had gone to bits. The situation was humiliating and his blade had sliced just past her ear, she felt the gust of air a mere second after. He was just too fast.

She knew the game well enough, after her fencing duel with List, but now, a fear swelled and grew within her chest and froze her with terror. Utter trepidation shook every inch of her to the very core. He couldn’t kill her, that wasn’t part of the training. But what if he had wanted to? She could do nothing. It would be an accident, like some horrible, vile joke. She couldn’t take a swing, nor surmise a strike. Caira was held hostage in her own cage of fear as the final blow fell on her right thigh and blood began to creep upon the fabric of her clothing and dribble in a striped line down her leg.

A deep cut, one that stung with accuracy. This was swordsmanship. And her disgraced head bobbed in a silent nod of defeat as it weighed heavy on her slouching shoulders.

“Record time. That’s five.” Trevor slung the two sabers over his shoulder where both landed in a single sheathe, he had made the other one his prize.

How could she let it be taken from her. Not the victory, not even the sword, but her pride. The freshly cut shame dwelled in her thoughts for the rest of the night as her comrades now looked down on her, spoke in low murmurs in the dining hall, all with their gazes pointed sharply at her. Trevor had used her own fear of death against her. An expert strategy of tact, fact, and triumph. And perhaps most importantly, he had won.

“She didn’t even move an inch! Hah! What a joke!” One said through a mouthful of bread.

Another agreed, “Only weak Prime I’ve ever seen!”

“It don’ put them all to shame though, there’s those two bounty hunters that caught that one guy.”

“Man, don’t even get me started on that one.”

“Sometimes the skill level jus’ don’t compare to expectations.”

“Come now, give the girl a break, she tried her best, and she was against Trevor.”

Eyes flicked in her direction, matching her as their target. “Whatsamatter honey? Want to come over here and give up? I’m sure the captain won’t mind if you shine his shoes for him! You can be an 'honorary' soldier of Camelot, princess." One taunted until she decided sitting on the bench in the corner of the room simply wasn’t enough. She stood taller, easier for everyone to see, the object of their bitter ridicule before she dumped an entire table sideways. Chairs screeched. Forks clattered to their plates in disbelief. The mood was set in the room as the atmosphere only grew sticky with disgust. She was sure – had anyone decided to sit at her table – this gesture would not have been as well received by the shocked room.

[Caira Ayryn]

Caira decided perhaps ridicule was the best motivation for training. Because it was a challenge she could easily overcome. The prickling under her skin caused by their taunts would fuel her determination, or at least, it had seemed that way in theory.

An interruption slammed into the table before her. She opened her left eye curiously to gaze at the pint that nearly splashed her and to meet only a few words, “What are you doing? That’s my seat!”

There was literally no-one around her overturned table, so the monk stoically remained in her seat. Foodless, friendless, alone. It wasn’t like it was a throne or anything.. Caira pondered for a moment as some Secondaries scrambled away from the nearby tables with their meals, "This one?” Her head turned, bored, as she skimmed the rest of their location. "There's plenty around."

“Yes, that one. You got somethin’ in your ear?”

“Only the sound of your shouting.” she stated candidly. Some of Trevor's peers chuckled with amusement while the rest of the audience watched in a hushed silence.

Trevor's expression crackled with anger, “Why you-”

A punch collided with her cheek and she inhaled with a shocked gasp the smell of alcohol on his breath. The punch wasn’t enough to move her from her perched position on the table and her hair was barely scrambled by the weak impact. It seemed that speed was all he really had. Something that meant everything.

Trevor sought to analyze what he expected to be a complete knock out, only to find the unfazed girl staring blankly at him. Her hair fell to its tame clean after being slightly ruffled while her cheek hadn’t even blushed with color from the impact.

"Go home Trev. You're drunk!"

"Don't hit a girl for God's sake!"

“Think you can make a fool out of me?!” he challenged again as his composure broke and threw another blow. This one she dodged a bit and let his arm fall past her shoulder while her forehead collided into his to deliver a potent head-butt. Lightly –at least to her– it slammed into him and his whole body crumpled into a clumped in a dragging mess that, like she had planned, collapsed on her shoulder. With this, Caira stood from her wooden perch and carried him outside, away from the prying eyes of his peers.

After a short walk, Caira found a small spot and placed him so he was propped up against the castle-esque building in the housing block. She turned to leave him there, unconscious yet entirely safe. He would wake up in the morning with a throbbing headache, but still, he would be fine. Though suddenly, she heard something she didn’t expect. A gravelly voice called her back, “Why didn’t you leave me there?”

Tch, her expectations to wordlessly disappear with at least some, honor into the night evaporated, He just can’t make this easy on me no matter what situation I’m in. Caira slowly turned back around to face the soldier-to-be whom had sunken against the wall in the wallows of his sobering sorrow and allowed her curious expression to prompt an explanation from him.

“In front of them, you could’ve beaten me while I was drunk. Surely, it would have redeemed you from earlier.” He spoke of her defeat which caused a pang of bitter taste to lather itself on her tongue. "So why?"

“I don’t see in what way it would have. There’s nothing just about punching some drunk guy in the face. If you don’t mind I prefer the battlefield, of sorts, though perhaps I would have if you made me taste my own blood.” She phrased her challenge lightly as opposed to calling him weak directly, “And, I’m a woman, so apparently there’s no need for me to get involved in petty bar fights.”

The Prime began to trot off from the man whom had recovered from his incapacitation rather quickly and called her back, “Oi. Being a girl doesn’t really matter, don’t listen to anything those idiots say.” He was right, Caira thought looking back on it, never once had Trevor given her a hard time about her feminine abilities, despite his quite obvious Prime-related issues.

“You’re a great swordsman.” She returned, and her lips formed a crescent-shaped smile.

[Caira Ayryn]

Caira had spent the night reading the Greek Mythology story book -though she actually assumed the stories were “historical”- they gave her hope as to any enemy could be defeated with sheer wit, passionate willpower, and the favor of the gods. So, the girl wondered and pondered what was the best tactic to face a warrior who had unsurpassable speed. The Omniverse was certainly a place where she would encounter people with the complete package: Skill, speed, and supremacy.

The wake up call finally sounded. Caira moved back into her "Prime-only" dorm. She passed by men’s housing as the partially nude, partially groggy, men awoke from their slumber and began to get changed and ready for the day as though there was nothing in the world to shame them... The monk soon found out the hard way.

“What? There are no women’s dorms?”

“Supply and demand, sweetheart.” Muttered the training officer as he pressed his cigarette ashes and smothered their glowing smokey embers.

“Surely there are women Primes who want to-”

“Listen, I don’t know how the military works for you in the world you are from, but some societies have their women do other tasks because not many of them can fight on the front lines. Some even bear children. It isn’t all about inability.”

The girl scowled at the stuck-up bastard, inability was a stereotype. Another word she would have preferred to replace it with would have been “inequality.” It sounded more like politics than priority of the Kingdom, meanwhile the man continued to ramble, “Some have families and others become pregnant one day or another. Very few train here and very few succeed beyond the confines of the Kingdom’s reach.”

"How can you possibly stereotype women like that?"

Caira stood in the officer’s smoggy office and thought about the roundabout answers he was giving, “But I’ve met one before, she was in List’s-” the man gave her a snide look and he quickly corrected the fallen soldier’s title, “General List’s platoon.”

“Fine man, he was. Taking on a woman in his platoon. She trained like the rest of ya’ before she became a soldier. Took ‘er twice as long, I might say, but I don’t think you’ll have that problem ‘cause you already know hand to hand. He trained ‘er from scratch.” Caira stood there for a moment, sifting through the unimaginable idea of such a noble Kingdom lacking progress. It was as though having a woman as a member of their legion was something rare and unimaginable. The man chewed his cheek sloppily, “Plus, she was his sister.”

He enjoyed the shock and awe that the new knowledge brought to her stupefied expression and lit another coffin nail. Caira took a moment to regain her wits before nodding in acknowledgment, apparently it was something doable. “Well, I think I have something to fix your dorm problems,” he said after a while.

...

“This?” Caira stared at the storeroom, it was a small unkept shack with a leaky and deprived roof with broken clay shingles. The musty smell grew in her nose when she entered and she quickly clasped her cupped palm over her lips to annex the pungent taste from her tongue.

The man blew his smoke into the already tainted room as he directed. “Yep. It’s all yours if you clean it. But you still have to train like the rest of ‘em.” The trainer said so the girl wouldn’t get the idea that slacking would be permitted.

“I’ll do it,” Caira stated and affirmed his efforts, before receiving his wrath-filled glare that told her she was missing something, “-Sir.”

[Caira Ayryn]

A very small and unfortunate Secondary male found himself stuck with the loose, heavier and more scraggly armor to train in, as "survival of the fittest" even applied to the equipment room. She took hers off with a brief and dismissive sigh and the guy looked startled as his flustered fingers fluttered around the many intricate clasps of the suit. When the male noticed she was taking hers off, he looked startled and shyly backed away, not wanting any trouble or assuming something invariably suggesting.

Caira didn’t regard the thoughts skimming his mind but held out the nicer set of armor wordlessly and heaved the heavy chain-mail he had worn over her head. “There then, it’s an even trade,” she said with a smile to the youth. Immediately she was weighed down with a robust and more than draining sense of fatigue. Her joints groaned against the force as they attempted to distribute the weight she now hoisted in her torso.

Second to last one out of the supply room sprouted the weak Secondary with a lighter load and an ecstatic bounce in his step; never had he been more joyous. Apparently, he was lucky enough to get the old armor frequently -if not daily- as the larger men with more bulk would push and bully him out of the way, keeping the better sets out of his reach.

Meanwhile, the Prime clenched her teeth and trudged on. As she exited the equipment room last - with a lack of breath at every slow movement - gravity bore down on her once more and it reminded her of the Nexus when she had first crash-landed into the Omniverse. The splitting headache hadn’t stopped her from performing the painstaking drills with the rest of the soldiers and by the end of the day, her energy reserves had grown nil.

With numerous casting glances, she realized that many more men were respecting the small Secondary she had traded with. He had kept up during their five mile jog, and even had defeated the training captain in a spar. “Great job Kobi!” People pat his back and congratulated him as she collapsed with the armor still on her and later took it off piece by hefty piece as it clattered in a pile at the base of her makeshift hammock in the storage shed she now called home. The increased gravity would test her muscles, her limits, and her willpower. The added weight training would make every movement swift, and fluid with finesse after adapting from the momentous strain of pain upon her. Her heavy eyes glanced at the pile of old, dingy armor as she commanded, “You will make me stronger.”

[Caira Ayryn]

Somehow she found herself appreciating the armor more and more, as daily it grew lighter. And even her shack had become a bit of a nice home for her in the time that followed her endless drills that caused sore thighs, aching feet, and of course, pain in every part of her body. Today, out of some sort of mixed luck, Caira had been awarded the day off. Partly because she was a Prime, and for some reason, that authority would give her some leverage on the tasks she was to preform. Caira had leapt at the chance to do a few errands in town for Lunch, before being promised the afternoon off if she did the entire confidential list by a certain time.

Meanwhile, her platoon had other gruesome training to attend.

“Alright men! New drill today. You are to move this rock fifty feet from here, and place it IN that tree. If you don’t manage to do this by sundown, you won’t eat for two days and will be doing drills nonstop! That means through the night boys!” Lunch pointed with an index finger and left the scene. A fresh meal was waiting for him.

“Just how are we supposed to do that?” Someone muttered in the face of the impossible task.

“What are we supposed to gain from moving this oversized rock!” Another growled.

“Use teamwork!” Lunch demanded over his shoulder as his pace continued away from the of group twenty perplexed men.

They began to heave the block with force, but found that because it was in the shape of a colossal cube, they were unable to push it but a few inches in the slopping mud.

An immense rain began to pound upon the shoulders of each man but still their burdens were not washed away. It poured down their cheeks and dribbled from their chins. Those who put pressure on every tendon and pulled at every muscle they didn’t know they had, strained themselves with the strenuous endeavor. Armor began to rust faster than their progress. Sweat, there was no lack of perspiration to be shown for every man’s effort, yet the obstacle still wouldn’t budge. To them, they were tasked with moving a mountain, which even together could not be done. There was a lesson to be learned from their impossible exertion, of this, they were sure of.

Meanwhile, Caira had just begun to clean out her little storage shed when the downpour stained her hammock and consequently she found herself washing it in the rainwater. Her cold fingers sloshed in the foamy soap water. The barrel she scrubbed her laundry in was dark and dusty, matching the settings of her ‘room’ yet she couldn’t deny that other than a bit of wear and tear, it was completely clean. She rinsed the fabric as the groans and shouts of heaving men faintly reached her ears. After perking up to decipher the noise, her head spun in the direction, and it seemed as though she were staring through the wooden wall.

“C’mon men! Move your haunches!” One shouted at the rest who were unsuccessfully using ropes around the rock as a makeshift levy.

The girl approached to investigate the noise only to find tired men staggering behind an enormous boulder in a pitiful pile. She blinked and it dawned on her, all the men were there, so why hadn’t she been invited? Her short Secondary friend, Kobi, came up to her and asked where she had been for half the day. The rest shunned her, “What’s she doing here?”

“As if we need a woman’s help!” An invariably sexist soldier muttered as his clenched teeth nearly fell out with the excessive strain he had put on his jaw.

Trevor -of all people- stood up from his haul-ass position and spoke up with astounding nobility, “That’s strange, I don’t see any women around. Only soldiers.”

Caira felt the remark warm her heart as Kobi briefed her on the stakes of their mission and her clothes soon became as drenched in the rain as the laundering she had been doing. “We won’t get food for two whole days and will have endless drills. No breaks. But if we move it, we get the rest of the day off.”

“That so? You mean to tell me, you’re letting this little pebble keep you from a day off?” she shouted to the men, giving them a show, who hated her for it. She smiled for a moment, amused at the transgressions painted on their weary faces before turning back to Kobi. “I’ll do it.”

[Caira Ayryn]

The humble monk approached the back of the boulder, and in consequence, the men made room for the black sheep that easily parted through the fatigued soldiers. She could’ve only guessed how long they had been at it. Since dawn? No, before the sun rose. The pool beneath the men’s feet was far too deep for it to have been anything less than eight hours in the heinous weather they were experiencing. Thunderclouds stormed above as Caira stormed their mission, full force. Soon, the rain had dripped from her chin and streamed upon her neck to thoroughly soak her dark hair.

The potent scent of sweaty effort and dank humidity drifted to her nose as she placed a single palm on the wet slippery boulder and felt the chill from the coarse sediment. Her fingers extended and she gave a slight heave of force to the rock.

There was a pause in the audience before the weight shifted beneath the slushy mud that held the boulder on the highest point on the hill. After her touch, it moved with fluent ease and slid down the slope of the hill they had been aiming for. Her gaping witnesses staggered at the power of a Prime. “Looks like you loosened it for me.” Caira commented, but no words would save any man’s damaged pride. Her eyes had hardened from the silence, which still resounded among the hushed men, who watched her from this time on. “What, just going to stand there?” The Prime challenged, feeling more hurt by their remarks over-time than she would ever had let on, only to have a simple action like this, cease and stun them all.

The slosh of mud filled her soggy socks as she followed the boulder and pushed it the remaining rest of the way. Kobi stood by her side as she beckoned him to help her the rest of the distance as Trevor made sure to direct them on the right path. There was a mile more to go. Plenty of time for them all to bond. Caira rallied a breath, as the soldiers piled behind her.

“Now up this tree.” Kobi, their organizer, stated and Caira looked against the rain and up the tree’s needles, staring at their challenge’s immense height.

“Huh? But that will crush the tree’s branches and kill it.” The worldly monk mentioned with a curious expression and said that she wouldn’t do it if it would break any single branch.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Trevor chided in disbelief.

Caira folded her arms and felt the weight of her drenched clothing under the armor. She heard the jeers of the men who had finally started to respect her. “That’s just like a woman. To go back on her word.” The comment felt like flames crawling under her cold skin.

The female let her eye twitch in aggravation at the constant stereotype. Really? At this point it’s plain unbecoming of them to say and completely predictable. Caira was stubborn but she wasn’t stupid. This was turning out to be one of those ‘make it or break it’ moments. It was a detrimental decision. This climax could ruin her hopes of winning their trust for the future, if she didn’t gain respect here, what support could she provide on the battle field? What could she provide for their platoon tomorrow? Yet today the same was applicable in a more obscure way. Sure, people cut down trees every day. But this one, was huge and had history beneath the many rings of its bark; it provided a helpful home to shelter animals. No, she was sure, she wouldn’t break a branch and her reluctance held stern her mental sanctity.

“Unless...” she trailed as they hung on her every word, “Unless we do it a certain way.” The ‘hard’ way.

The scent of pine touched her nose and sprigs of needles tickled her cheeks. The soaked rope they had noosed around the rock now dripped with greasy sweat and was heavy with the water that had only increased in their weak hands.

Drenched as they were, they were equally unwilling to let go of the task at hand. The men created a stable pulley against the branch of the tree using angled ropes, manpower, and potent willpower. Caira supervised the action from above, all the weight was on one rope and distributed among a few branches.

Slick with sweat, the men’s hands grappled with the weight of the rock and balanced on the sliding mud beneath them. Keen ears could hear the cracking crumble of the rope as it splintered down to the last thread. Thin as chicken wire, weaker than a hair, the last bristle of rope threatened to fall not just through the tree branches but upon the men below. Even time seemed to hang in the balance as bark continued to grate against the woven texture and any added moisture loosened the very last strand. Her eyes watched the dangling rope swish like a cat’s ball of yarn, and fell with the weight of gravity.

[Caira Ayryn]

The Prime dove down for the rope as though it were the last of her chance, and it was the last chance for any of those below the levee to live. Head-first, a shoulder made contact against the wood with a loud THWACK! as suddenly her teeth clenched in focus, and time resumed to strain in her shoulder. Only by luck had her clammy hands not slipped under the circumstances. Yes! She thought with her catch as she shifted to strength with her unbreakable grip. A sigh of relief formed prematurely, but, quite pridefully, she had caught it. Gravity’s sensation still grappled her body as the ultimate pulley, as her muscles seemed to flatten and strain before the men below could understand that the rope had broken and the risks were threateningly high.

No! flashing before her eyes was regret of her choice to ever join this incessant army, her choice to save the tree may have cost her everything. All for a damn tree that would have been chopped down anyway and yet, her hands remained on the rope at the point attached to the giant boulder.

The crackle of the shuddering ribs ripping in her abdomen snagged Caira’s attention. The sound of her own shredding flesh was sickening, and something had taken a turn for the worse. Bone shattered -or at least seemed to- and then the forefront of pain pursued her. Agony launched itself from every inch of her searing body. Yet bent as she was, she wasn’t broken.

Caira dangled there for a while as she held the rope of doom with every active muscle. The tension and force crushed her ribs. I won’t let this be my breaking point. The men had completely abandoned their pulley and were now watching her with a little concern. Oh no.. If I take a breath right now... I might puncture a lung. That means I’ll either have to let this go or heave it upwards without a single breath. The Prime’s analysis of the critical situation was accurate, Kobi and Trevor could only watch from below as they gawked helplessly at the stranded Prime.

“This will be.. Great practice for me..” Caira breathed out as she managed to convince herself that the impossible task was within her grasp.

HEAVE!

Caira pulled on the rope with the many muscles extending through her arms; she balanced on the branches and still found herself dangling as the weight of the rock etched into every point of contact her appendages made with the bark.

HO. Grating against a rock and a hard place, the rope dangled until she got a foothold. She grasped the bark, held the rope in her teeth and was able to stand on the thick limb. Finally she found her balance on two feet, and lowered the giant boulder with all the strength she could summon. Slowly her grip had started to slip, and she had nowhere to balance the boulder just below her. Some of the branches below were too flimsy or bendable, and she heard the deafening CRUNCH! as a few broke below her. Yet, finally she was able to pinpoint a place that would fit the task and the giant square shaped rock was set gently in the dew covered branches of the giant pine tree.

[Caira Ayryn]

While the story of Magus’s bounty spread throughout Camelot, more and more wizards were claiming names for themselves. Many wizards, weren’t wizards at all, but warriors of their craft and some sold their services on the Dataverse. A few Primes, such as Doomguy or Guu, Caira read, had stories of their own posted on the Twitter feeds. Caira missed TBG, and deliberated sending her a message, as the woman at the library had shown the outdated monk how to use the technology that this world harnessed. Caira composed an “E-MAIL” as it was called, and sent it to her favorite bounty hunter and Prime.

Then, Caira took to the skies, on her newest conquest. Recently, she had mastered the majestic skill that was, riding a griffin.

When the girl had first arrived in Camelot, she had trodden through the scape of the land on horseback, then, when it was demanded she go to Dalaran -the floating island in the sky- she was forced to go by Pegasus. Now, riding a Pegasus may not have been considered a feat in this world, but there were no flying horses where she came from, and flying was a fantasy only seized by the birds in the air. For this reason, Caira was afraid of both flying and falling to her death.

For this reason, on her first day in griffin practice -yes, with an actual griffin- which apparently had some sort of battle advantage over Pegasi, and one reason they were more rare than pegasi was because they were harder find or produce. A rare and mythic golden egg is where they come from. And these are laid once every ten years.

On her first day of that week, she had landed flat on her face approximately sixty times. On her second, only forty. Caira considered that progress and continued during her allotted hour with the beast, to attempt to ride it. She watched everyone else’s attempts, they weren’t far from her own failures. No one had gotten the lion-like bird into the air. Not even Kobi, whose parents had been lucky enough to find a golden egg when he was very young.

The creature represented an impossible challenge. Every time she would mount the beast, it would shake her off within the time she could wrap her hands around the beast’s mane. The second day she had tried a ‘running start’ and the third, she finally resolved that the very active way she was going about it just wasn’t working.

So the monk sat in front of the beast, who finally -in all the time he had been hounded and touched in obscure places- had relaxed. However the lion’s face still remained composed with the utmost respectful pride that Caira couldn’t help but to admire.

“C’mon, if you aren’t gonna ride it, give your time slot to someone else!” A few soldiers protested, others had wandered off, researching the matter and trying to find bait that would make the creature do their bidding.

It was tempting to resort to baiting the creature with steak, however, the sense of entitlement she got from the creature was that it wouldn’t be convinced by such mere things. In the lion’s golden, hardened gaze, she could see everything anyone had to offer needed to be earned.

She sat about four feet away from the mighty beast until her hour was up. Both had been mutually motionless, which was easy for Caira to imitate because of her monk-ly backround. The next day, Caira did the same thing, and she did the same in the days to follow. After two maddening weeks, the beast began to grow weary of everyone poking, prodding, and digging sticks into its feathery hide. A roar carried over their camp and Caira could only guess what had disturbed the beast this time.

She hurried to the clearing where the Griffin was kept, only to see a bloody mess of mangled human, and a rampaging beast who had broken free of it’s chain. Another roar of pain howled through the air, while the beast continued to thrash its wings and create gusts of wind that knocked Caira from her feet. She crouched low to evade the brunt of it, however the force still tumbled over her like the thick frothing waves of a storm-troubled ocean.

The mighty beast’s maw dripped with crimson blood, and she looked below its feet to mark that at least one casualty had been claimed by whatever had happened. A charred mark on its side showed that someone had probably coaxed the creature into its current rampaging state with a branded stick of hot iron, and prodded the molten metal into its side. That someone had been slain at the mighty beast’s claws, and a tangled sense of justice had been served. Now however, it was going after innocent people, blinded by rage, the creature had set its sights on Kobi.

The secondary cowered in fear below the magnificent creature’s extended gait. In this moment, Caira could see the extension of the beast’s glory, as the folds of its wings grew in size and threatened to buck down on the harmless human. An enormous wing threw Kobi against a tree, where his head slammed hard into the wood and brought darkness with the close of his eyelids. Soon he would be stomped, Caira assumed from the trajectory of the beast’s open march. In a sprint, the Prime could get there in time, but the real trivial question was what could she do if she made it?

As she rushed past the beast, she noted the broken chain. If worst came to worst, she could seize the chain like a leash, however she assumed that she’d be knocked off in an instant, for she hadn’t the power, nor the brawn, to hold onto a swaying metal chain while the Griffin took to the air. It wasn’t like the motionless boulder, which could only fall, a Griffin was powerful and alive.

[Caira Ayryn]

“STOP!” She shouted as the gleaming claws from the beast’s giant hand raised into the air holding Kobi’s life in the moment if and when the beast would strike down. The next moment, Caira found herself between her unconscious friend and the magical beast with raise arms in defense, until she let them fall out of respect for the beast. Two worthless twigs for arms wouldn’t do anything to save her from a beast of this stature. But, to Caira’s surprise, the Griffin did stop, just long enough to add her to the ‘kill’ list. A simmering hot gaze coldly swept through her, before the beast continued the stroke of its aw in the air.

“Don’t make me do it.” She warned as though she had something up her sleeve. Something to slay him. The beast wasn’t convinced and could easily read her tense body language, even in his rage-filled haze.

Her chin tipped upward, as the two held eye contact. Raw and unswaying. Both would not back down, as the cause for justice was worn by the both. The griffin had been wronged as he had been injured by some ignorant trying to coax him into doing a few tricks and Caira wore an heir of justice as she defended an entirely innocent friend. On Kobi’s life, he would never harm an innocent creature. It just wasn’t in his personality to do something for his own gain at the cost of another. If anything, he had probably been caught between the soldier who had attacked the griffin.

“Caira, watch out!” Trevor shouted as he neared the clearing, but the standoff had already ensued. Trevor could only watch what soon followed.

The eye contact between beast and Prime lasted only a fleeting second, until the creature swiped down with the force of gravity. Caira chose not to defend herself, and with a sound mind, refrained from a scream. Her dense, over-bearing armor with thick sheets of metal was shredded as the claw swept along her side. She was thrown a few feet to the right and suddenly felt the silver blood pouring from her arm. The slash hadn’t been fatal, to her surprise the densely thick armor had done its job and protected from the impact that would have killed her.

The Griffin continued, meanwhile, Caira had been thrown to the same side of the creature as the rusted iron chain. With a flash, the action that followed occurred in a dizzying whirl.

A pale and silver stained hand reached for the chain as the beast reared upward, aiming for a killing-blow that would surely have been brought down on Kobi, had Caira not snagged the chain and pulled back with her fullest force. The creature wasn’t expecting Caira to be standing, and was flung back with its claw inches from Kobi’s skull.

Then the creature took to the skies and somehow Caira had gotten stuck holding onto the chain because had she let go, Kobi would have been shredded as she was.

When Caira blinked her eyes open, she was in the air, hanging by the metal made slippery by her own blood. The beast had revolted and then taken to the skies. Swirling below the Prime’s swaying feet was the speckles of trees that grew more distant with the beast’s increasing flight. She dangled for a good ten minutes, muttering to herself, “Please don’t fall, please don’t fall, please don’t fall...” Her worst fears had been realized and after a while the griffin became aware of her slipping presence and could sense her lucid fear.

It began to shake and twirl through the sky, and Caira lost a lot of the leverage and length of the chain that had kept her sane. Inches were left on the chain, and the Griffin decided to make one last move that would free it of the humans that had enslaved it in captivity its entire life. In the Griffin’s final thrash, Caira held on only by a single hand, and her hot blood rained in a thick splatter against the lion’s raged expression.

The injured girl could no longer hold onto the lengthy chain and her wound had ripped with the added force of the creature’s last twirl. The blood seemed to rouse the creature from its rage, as Caira streamed through the air, and could only go in one direction. Down.

The bite of the wind lashed with every touch on her eyes so that she forced them to close as her fingers fumbled for Omnilium. She could summon something that could save her, but her mind wouldn’t set on a single image, for she could only feel the fear chilling her blood. Adrenaline pumped with every quaking heartbeat that thundered in her chest. In a squint she saw that the ground was nearing. And with it, the last of her breaths would be taken as she gasped through the tears and wished for a miracle.

Apparently Omni was listening, as instead of the hard, shattering ground, Caira met the back of a fluffy, feathery bird. The Griffin had returned just in time to save her from the destructive force of the ground. Caira, who was entranced by the perpetuating fear that coiled in her stomach, couldn’t tell she had been saved, until she felt her curiosity overwhelm her fear so that she was brave enough to open an eye.

In a squint, she noticed her location, she was swooping above Minas Tirith on the back of the griffin in the air. It had begun its decent. Soon enough, Caira was back at the camp, which was bustling with commotion. They landed and Caira was amusedly bucked off of the beast again, this time however, Caira propped herself to an upright position and looked at the wound on her arm. With a kiss of the creature’s nose, her injury was healed and they met eye contact on much more civil terms.

“I am sorry.” A deep voice rumbled telephonically in her mind.

Her eyes widened, she could only realize that the creature had the ability to speak all along. “You can talk?”

“Yes.” The noble creature silenced her curiousity.

“Do all-”

“No.”

Caira nodded, and rose to meet the creature’s eyes, before bowing low into the ground. Her shoulders dipped in apology for the humans, which the Griffin received and motioned her to rise. “Never in my thousand years of life, have I let a human ride me.”

“What? But wasn’t that the test?” Caira responded, why would the military set up this sort of impossible feat?

“The test has been around for ages, every year they request my assistance for the newest recruits, and every year I meticulously buck them off until your recruitment officer tells you the lesson you have learned.”

“Sounds simple..” Caira mused and still looked at the lion’s face as she heard his voice, astounded it did not come from its lips.

With that, the Griffin turned around and took to the skies. Caira guessed he would not be coming back for next year’s test.

As Caira returned to camp, eyes held like glue upon her.

“Did you hear?” An oblivious soldier spoke, “That one girl killed the griffin!”

“Guess she couldn’t handle the fun of a little challenge. What a-” A snarky comment was offered in return, by a smarmy secondary.

Caira tapped the man’s shoulder, who turned around nonchalantly, as his nose met with Caira’s bloodied fist.

No catchphrase needed.

She had decided as the soldier fell to the ground. She almost regretted taking action angrily as the griffin had, but within her, she felt a bit of justice delivered by her fist and smirked as she strode off.

The news swarmed the camp, millions of different versions of the story were spoken in rumored whispers. But only four -Caira, Kobi, the Griffin, and Trevor- knew the whole story.

[Caira Ayryn]

“You’ll be matched up with Trevor here.” Lunch grinned a cheshire grin that widened sinisterly liked barbed wire on his lips.

“Deja vu, kid.” Trevor wielded his blade, however as he looked down the sharpened silver, he looked at his opponent not with malice, but respect.

To the monk’s surprise, a hand was extended outward. “Don’t be shy.” He offered, and they resolved on a mutual shake.

The first whip of the blade slashed at empty air. Caira had dodged, her refined moves had saved her unprotected arm from a fresh slice. Her speed had increased and her muscles that had once buckled under gravity, soon heaved with tone speed. She battled the soldier who had once made a mockery of her. Now, they were acquaintances, if not teammates or friends.

Kobi and the others cheered her and Trevor on, their sides, strangely enough, were undecided. It seemed that the reason behind this was that their eyes both fell on their form, both were soldiers, and in battle, everyone would be on the same side.

SHINK!

Metal slid against metal, as her one sword combatted against Trevor’s set of two. Suddenly, with the flick of her wrist, his sword was knocked from his hand and clattered to the ground. Rather than pick it up and increase her chances of triumph, the honorable soldier kicked it away. I only need one. Now they were on even ground. And both were ready to let this match decide who was the fastest and most skillful swordsman.

[Caira Ayryn]

Another flick of the man’s wrist and he speedily landed a two-point touch on her torso. The blade sliced through her skin and shed a warm rain of blood onto the ground as it trickled in chrome lines onto her shirt.

She evaded the following blow with her gained speed and was able to land a lighter slice on his arm. At first Trevor’s eyes held on her. “You’re holding back?” This ignited his rage, where he unleashed his skill and power full force.

In a frenzy of sleek sword movements, she barely managed to block and parry in time, she bit back with her own trade of refined techniques. Another hit cost two to her limbs.

It was the last of the fencing match. A point and she would be finished. Three to him and she would be the winner.

In this moment, it was all on the line.

A harsh strike caught Trevor off guard. A gash leaked through the fabric of his shoulder, coloring his gray shirt, now red. “It’s an inch deep.” He observed before shouting and letting his anger get the best of him. “DON’T YOU WANT A FAIR FIGHT!?”

His sword raised in a last vehement swipe.

Caira countered with the hilt of her own, as her sword twisted in the air, and she raised her foot in a swooping kick as by the sole of her boot, he fell to the ground. Coinciding this motion, the sword fell back into her hand and she dipped it next to his throat. A coldly composed and ferocious gaze fell on him. The chill of the steel touched his skin.

“Fair enough?”

They both briefly smirked and Caira offered him a hand up.

...

The steel touched her shoulder as the knighting ceremony of two-hundred commenced. The soldiers were motioned to rise in unison and a speech preceded of their official duty and allegiance sworn to the Kingdom. All spoke their names to this, signing the signature of their life as it hung on the line for Camelot.

As Caira rose from her kneeled position, one of service and nobility, she met eyes with a girl in the far corner of the scene. Blonde hair and blue eyes struck like sharp steel as they landed on Caira, with her interest piqued. A silent exchange was traded across the distance as of the grand room, from a ceremoniously new soldier, to Camelot’s newest recruit.