Lord Dermail sat in the grand hall anxiously. The large door at the end squeaked open slightly and an imposing man in elegant attire and a flowing crimson cape approached. "Finally!" the lord roared. "What has kept you, Count Dekim?" The caped man bowed curtly.
"My apologies, my liege, but there are more doors in town than one might imagine," he said as he removed a black leather riding glove.
"I have no time for this!" Dermail bellowed. "I have elves, dragons, unicorns, dwarves, and gremlins roaming my countryside and you take your time simply putting up notices about it?" His face became red and he struggled to regain his normal breathing patterns. Count Dekim seemed not to take notice.
"If you'll pardon me, liege, you must remember to try and not get so excited. Bad for your blood pressure you know," Dekim said carelessly, removing his other glove. Dermail panted.
"Pardon granted, Count Dekim," the lord said roughly. "But when do my hunters arrive?"
"All in good time, my lord," Dekim said with a smirk. "They'll be here in the morning. Now then, you need your rest. Ruling an entire country may start with ridding it of vermin, but when one has the goal of ruling more than one... well," he gave a laugh, "we shall need to work our hunters mercilessly." Dermail sat forward slightly.
"I have made it quite clear to you time and again that you are not supposed to mention my plans anywhere but in complete secrecy," he growled in warning tones to the Count.
"And who is here to listen?" Dekim countered. "It will be painfully obvious to them all in good time, once the other five continents are yours. In fact, most will catch on once you obtain Avlas."
"But I cannot even obtain Avlas until I have my army," Dermail stated gruffly. "And that will not happen until each and every last male creature is destroyed. Of these roaming species, it is obvious that the women are the better warriors."
"Ah, and what better way to be rid of male vermin that with the aid of the enticing females of our lovely town?" Dekim asked with a wide, fake grin.
"In any case I have almost all of the females captured. Without their male counterparts, these females are useless. Especially the elves. It just goes to show you how weak love, affection, and devotion make one. I cannot count on these women to fight for me until the males have been utterly and completely destroyed. If I let them leave to fight now, they will all return to the forests and swarm against me. I need these hunters, and I need them now."
"All in good time, sir," Dekim repeated again with another fake smile. "Now then, to bed."
*~*
Flowing dresses fluttered. Pairs of delicate hands held up numerous petticoats. Determined, prettily painted faces sat in a row. Light chatter and occasional sweet laughter was heard while the ladies waited. Inside, Lord Dermail was also nervously waiting.
"Isn't it time to let them in yet?" he asked the Count.
"Yes, sir, it is now time," Dekim said evenly. "Shall I open the doors?"
"Yes, yes! Hurry up and get on with it! I don't have all day!" the lord said irritably. Dekim strode down the hall grumbling.
"He didn't get enough sleep last night... Cross, that's what he is..." He opened the doors and marched down the short corridor to the room where the ladies were waiting.
"Ladies," the Count said soothingly, with a sickening grin. "I trust the day finds you well." Fourteen pairs of unenthusiastic eyes stared back at him. "If you'll please follow me, Lord Dermail is ready to receive you now." With a flourish and a bow he spun around, midnight blue cape following him as he walked back down the corridor. Six young ladies were the first to follow him. "My liege," Dekim said as he reached the doorway.
"Count Dekim," a deep, imposing voice came from within, "you may enter. Ladies, if you would please come in." The women followed the Count into the room and sat in the high-backed chairs that surrounded the larger, more elegant chair in the middle where the lord sat. 'It might even be called a throne,' some thought. The lord did not move to speak, so Dekim began.
"Ladies, you know why you are here. There has been constant trouble resulting from plagues of dragons, elves, gremlins, dwarves, and the like. We need strong women to aid us in the search for these creatures. Eventually, we will need you to help us rid the country of them. This is a job that is not necessarily for the weak," he added, looking at the delicate fingers that sat, laced, on the laps of pretty dresses.
"To put it quite bluntly," the lord spoke, "we need the strongest of you that there are. To ensure that we achieve the strongest group possible, those of you who wish to will submit to a series of tests. If you do not wish to undergo these tests, I wish you to exit now and bid you adieu." Three of the fourteen left the room with fond farewells and 'good lucks' to their fellow adventure-seekers. Dermail watched with interested eyes at who did not wish to withstand his tests. Dekim, however, observed cautiously those who remained. Some looked frightened, others passive, and then there were the few who seemed to have fire in their eyes, who seemed to be eager to accept and pass Dermail's trials; those would be the ones to keep, he reasoned.
"I thank those of you who remain for doing so," the lord said. "I would ask you to present your names to the Count Dekim and me, so that we may know who has undergone these trials." The lady sitting next to the Count rose at Dermail's gesture. Then the next, and so forth. Five women were presented. The next stood up, honey hair cascading halfway down her back.
"Relena Darlian," she stated, looking straight at the lord. The next lady rose. Violet hair, the younger of the sisters.
"Hilde Schbeiker." Her sister stood up.
"Lucretia Noin." The Count looked curious.
"Schbeiker and Noin? Are you two not sisters?" he asked.
"We are," Lucretia answered. "Our mother was divorced after I was born. She remarried and had Hilde."
"Enough," said the lord, glaring at the Count. "Next, please."
"Dorothy Catalonia," said the one with immensely long, blond-white hair.
"Catherine Bloom," voiced the one with auburn hair in a high bun.
"And our last candidate," the Count said with an ugly grin. She rose.
"Sally Po."
"Po? Anthony's wife?" Dermail asked with interest. Sally visibly shuddered.
"Yes, sir."
"Your husband is dead now, is he not?" the lord went on.
"Yes, sir."
"Terrible accident... don't make boats like they used to..." the Count began. Sally looked horrified.
"If you'll please, sir," Lucretia interrupted, "I don't see that this has anything to do with plagues of dragons and elves. And as the time seems to be ticking away and you need this group established as soon as possible, I request that we begin the trials." Sally gave Noin an incredibly grateful look.
"All right then." Lord Dermail rose. "Onward to the tests. Let the trials begin!"
:. *~*~* .: