"Catch," was all the warning I got. I managed to grab the wooden sword by the hilt before it collided with my face. We were somewhere on the castle grounds. It was fairly small, in comparison to what I'd seen so far. That wasn't saying much, though, as there were several large trees around us, almost a wooded sanctuary built into the Palace itself.
Several weapon racks lined an inner perimeter, somewhat hidden. Most of the weapons were constructed of wood, but a few had metal ends. Surrounded by the tallest trees, was a dirt circle, standing out against the grass.
For the moment, it was just Agnes and myself. Henrietta, Princess Henrietta, I mentally corrected, had broken off to do something.
I took a few practice swings with the sword, keeping it in a firm, two-handed grip. A few basic sets of swings. Oh, I was years out of practice. And that implied I was particularly practiced to start with.
"Your feet are too close together," Agnes spoke, keeping her respective training sword in a loose, one-handed grip. I shifted my feet, spreading them out more as I took another swing at the air.
"Thank you," I simply said, as Agnes continued to observe me. One might criticize me for showing off in front of the person I was about to fight, but wasn't the skill gap obvious? The amount of time I've spent holding a wooden sword, much less a real one, could probably count in a single day, into a second if I was feeling generous. And what little practice I had was coated in nearly a half-decade of rust and grime.
When I had thrown the offers out, I was spitballing. Throwing out suggestions and finding what stuck. And it wasn't like I was anymore or less qualified to be a maid, or butler either. What was my closest equivalent to that line of work? Working as a grocery store sacker? Outside of faking basic niceties, there weren't much of a lot of transferable skills on that front.
But I might as well try. I wasn't counting on much, but the Runes on the back of my hand might do something. They had to be there for a reason. Yeah, yeah, it's real life, but it didn't need to be about narrative tropes. This was a sign of something. A human being the result of a summoning ritual sounded rare. Not as rare as the good Cardinal wanted us to think it was, but rare enough that he was able to get everyone to believe that this was a first-time-in-history sort of deal.
That was something to look into. Later.
Did this translation spell allow me to read, by any chance? I was going to have to test that one out for myself. Reading was pretty fun for me, and there was only so much you could learn about a place and why it was the way it was just by talking to people. Sometimes people just didn't know the answer through no fault of their own.
"Sorry, I'm late. I wanted to slip into something a little more appropriate," I turned to look at the source of the voice, before blinking. It was practically a suit of armor missing all but the helmet.
"Isn't that uncomfortable? I asked, taken by surprise. And shouldn't it have made a whole lot more noise as well? How was she able to keep quiet until she was right on top of us?
"Not really," Henrietta blushed slightly. "I'm used to it is all."
Used to it. Right. Add Henrietta to the list of people I'm never going to arm wrestle. Suddenly, a gleam appeared in the young woman's eye.
"I'm so sorry, but we haven't asked you what your name is yet!" Henrietta said. "We should correct this at once!"
That was a fair point. An oversight to be sure, but given the chaos, it wasn't like there had been a whole lot of time to devote to basic pleasantries. I went to open my mouth but paused.
My name was very much a guy's name. It wasn't one of those unisex names, and I was regretting my parent's choice of conventions, no matter how proud of it I was. Going by that name would draw attention, especially if I wasn't disguising myself as a guy.
"What? You don't have names where you're from?" I sent Agnes a glare. I already knew I was in for a physical beating when it came from her. I didn't need any further help in developing a grudge against someone who was one way or another, a possible coworker.
"No, it's just that calling me by my name going to draw a lot of unwanted attention. It's not a name that can be applied to either," I scowled. I mean, a female version of my name, was that even possible? I mean, Isabella was close, but Issac was closer to being the male version of that name than mine was.
"Well, we can't just call you nothing at all," Henrietta pouted. "It's disrespectful."
"Besides it can't be that bad," Agnes shrugged, my glare passing over her like water on a rock.
I rolled my eyes, telling them. They both stared back, giving me a confused look.
"That'd be a strange name, even if you were a guy," Agnes responded first, somewhat amused.
"Agnes!" Henrietta sounded aghast at the comment, even though I could tell she was judging.
"It's traditional Irish," I crossed my arms, doing my best not to huff in frustration. Of course, they didn't have Ireland here in this world, even if Henrietta was a name that faintly tickled at the back of my mind, like a scratch that I couldn't quite itch. "Can we just, put a pin in it for the time being? I'll try and come up with something in the meantime."
I didn't like having to toss my name aside, but at the moment, it was best that this whole from another-world business be kept to as few people as possible. For pragmatism's sake.
"Fine. Let's just get this over with" Agnes said, taking a few steps into the dirt circle. I mimicked her, keeping an even spacing. Henrietta let out a small little sigh of, was it envy, before stepping near the edge of the circle.
"The first to three hits wins," she paused for a moment. "And don't try to hurt each other too badly."
I had a feeling Agnes was the target for that remark.
"Begin!"
Agnes didn't waste a single second, closing the distance and thrusting forward. I parried, barely, deflecting the blow away before it could connect, before swiping with my sword, hitting nothing but air.
I barely managed to dodge the follow-up, the blade cutting through the air, missing by mere centimeters. Agnes gave me no tip to recover, forcing me on the defensive with a brutal series of thrusts, each clack of wood on wood sending tremors up my arms as I was already struggling to keep my guard up.
I pushed forward, trying to interrupt the attacks with a horizontal slash, one Agnes easily blocked. Despite me being able to leverage both my arms with my grip, Agnes was able to keep my weapon locked in place with only one of hers.
"You haven't dropped your sword yet," Agnes spoke as if she wasn't in a sword fight at all. Was she even sweating? "That's a better showing than I thought I'd get."
I felt anger begin to boil up inside me. Agnes was playing with me. This wasn't a fight, not for her. This was a joke, not even a warm-up for her. I wasn't being taken with any degree of seriousness at all.
Which is why I forced down that anger, smothering it. Agnes was trying to get a rise out of me. I was already out-skilled, understrength, and outsmarted when it came to the blade. Getting mad would just make me reckless, causing me to make more mistakes than I already was.
"Thanks! I'm doing better than I thought I would, too," I tried to smile back, before letting out a gasp of pain as Agnes's fist drove into my gut. Her sword came down on my shoulder, a light tap in comparison.
"Don't talk unless you have a plan," Agnes criticized, going back into a casual fighting stance. I scowled, moving my hand away from where she punched me. The pain was starting to dull already, but there was no doubt in my mind it was going to bruise.
I just needed to stay calm. That's the only way I had even a ghost of a chance. Quite frankly, I'd consider it a win if I managed to score a single hit by the time she got to three. And she already had one point.
I took a fighting stance, sword held tightly in my hands. Just one point. That's all I'd be happy with. Just a single one.
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Everywhere hurt. Sweat ran down my face, getting into my eyes, the salt causing pain. I just wanted to land a single hit. But I hadn't even managed to touch the slightest bit of her clothes.
I shouldn't be surprised by the poor performance, but it still stung anyway. I knew Agnes beat me out in experience, but the gulf between us was a chasm.
"Not the worst performance I've ever seen," Agnes said critically. "But also far from even a low standard."
"You have some form of training, but it's clearly both something you never practiced much, and you practiced too long ago for anything beyond the barest basics to stick. Your stance is inconsistent, you telegram your swings too much, and you overextend your reach the majority of the time, leaving yourself open. Your entire style, and calling it such is me being generous, can be described as leaving yourself open," Agnes scowled, the message being sent loud and clear.
"And still not the worst display you've ever seen?" I did my best to take Agnes's words in stride. It wasn't like she was wrong. I had little idea how to fight with a sword, and she had been toying with me the whole time. If I were to join any guard group, I'd need to know how to fight. Guarding the Princess, or the royal family in general, was a position that demanded skill and competence in equal measure.
Not to mention loyalty. How many Roman Emperors had lost their thrones to backstabbing ambitious guards?
"That is not saying much," Agnes replied tersely. Not exactly. All it meant is she ran into people who were somehow less capable than I was. Which, given that humans could be humans, wasn't saying a whole lot.
"I was more expecting stories, actually," I shrugged, stretching out my body as it groaned in protest.
"No," she said simply, placing her wooden weapon back on the training rack. "Now ten laps around the path. The entire path."
My muscles let their protest to such an order be known, but I could barely stop the grin from growing on my face. A run? I did those just about every day. Sure two miles wasn't a whole lot, but it helped keep me active. Meaning this was something I could succeed at.
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Sweat poured down my face as the sun continued to bombard me with its oppressive rays of heat. I was still making good time, at least I thought I was. Not much worse than how fast I usually ran, at least.
But I was going to need water sooner or later. Anything to keep me hydrated would be greatly appreciated right now. Something besides my sweat. I didn't need any more salt in my system.
I kept a good, constant pace as I came around the bend, feet aching. It felt good to run the stress out, even if I didn't have any good running shoes on. Sure, I'd managed to trade my shoes for something that would take the hits better, but I was used to running shoes.
But alas packing my bags hadn't exactly been an option. Nor was how far I could run comfortably the real point. Rather, it was a matter of how long I could run, and possibly how far, if they knew how long this makeshift track was. Sure, I wasn't trained to run a marathon, but I ran on a nearly daily basis, so it wasn't like I would be out of shape.
Agnes was testing my endurance. Thanks to my daily runs, I wasn't going to be bad at it. But there was a difference between regular exercise, and having a soldier's fitness. That would be true pretty much regardless of Era.
I haven't exactly been counting the number of times I've gone around, either. Probably about ten or so, by this point. It wasn't like the general area was big, either. More of an indoor garden, just without a glass ceiling, or anything else above. But no, just an outdoor training area, built into the castle. I wanted to ask why. It was unlikely to be a well-hidden secret, either.
"That should be enough," I heard Agnes say over the sound of my own feet. I wanted to continue, if simply out of spite. I could go for a few more laps, but everything was a test. Agnes wasn't just testing me on how well I could do physically, but also on how well I could listen to orders.
Was I sure where Agnes fell in the chain of command, or even if she technically was a part in the first place? No. But unless she asked me to do something criminal, there wouldn't be a whole lot of resisting for me. Asking questions would simply invite more work. Actual complaints, even more so.
I came to a stop, breathing deeply as I slowly walked in a circle, helping my body cool off. If only I could get a towel to eliminate all this sweat. I'd use my shirt, but parts of it were also drenched. Already. Usually, I'd just throw it in a washing machine, but that was not an option anymore.
Ignoring the fact I didn't like to go shirtless even before. Now, it just went from an I don't want to, to probably some type of public decency violation. I wasn't going to risk that.
"Hungry?" Henrietta asked, smiling. My stomach rumbled against my wishes, bringing a blush to my face. But it wasn't like I'd skipped past breakfast already, and everything that entailed.
"Yes, I am," I said, lowering myself to sit on the grass. "And thirsty." Something was needed to replace all the water I was expending. Despite the heat radiating off my body from the physical workout making me not want to eat, did I have a choice? I needed calories and water, badly.
"Do you think you can tell us about where you're from?" Henrietta asked innocently. I gave a brief moment of pause.
"Sure," I said and simply began to talk.
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"It contextualizes a few things," Agnes admitted, watching the person Henrietta had summoned as she ran her way through the exercises, barely passing on stubbornness alone. She had seen far worse displays of physical activity, yes, but at the same time, they were far from the minimal standard. But with what they'd told Henrietta and herself, it started to make sense.
The world they had been summoned from was vastly different. There was no magic, meaning nobles and monarchs, at least, in a form easily recognizable, did not hold much in the way of power. Technology ruled the day, at least, in the part of the world this particular person was used to. It seemed outlandish, and yet, she hadn't sensed a single lie.
"But she's trying her best," Henrietta protested, as Agnes felt the need to rub her forehead.
"Henrietta, you are more qualified and capable than she is," Agnes said, trying to put things as bluntly as possible. Though that wasn't exactly fair, as Agnes knew that Henrietta, so long as magic wasn't involved, could beat more than a fair share of younger members of the guard in a fight as well, but she needed to beat into Henrietta's head just how underqualified her familiar was for such a task.
It was clear to Agnes the summoned person had at least, a faint degree of training, and wasn't a lost cause. But it would take a considerable amount of time to bring them up to even a minimal standard. Placing them immediately in a position they were very clearly underprepared for was simply asking for trouble. Trouble that wouldn't be worth it by any stretch of the imagination. Keeping a low profile was the best option for now. And appointing someone to a position they weren't qualified for was the exact opposite of that.
"Can you at least try with one of the muskets? She might know how to use those," Henrietta begged as Agnes suppressed the urge to scowl. It had to be this one out of all the jobs she could have taken. Sure, their guest had admitted their grandfather had taught them how to shoot, but given how their world was supposedly more technologically advanced, that might not be the lifeline Henrietta was hoping it was.
"I'll consider it," Agnes said simply, with Henrietta hugging her. The things she had to do for this job. Agnes didn't think it would work, but it was better than the alternative of Henrietta sneaking off and getting herself hurt. Or worse.
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I looked at the gun Agnes held in her hands. I'd spend the entire day running, doing pushups, situps, everything. My body was sore and tired, and my muscles were already planning an overthrow of the rest of my body.
By this point, I was completely and utterly exhausted.
As for the firearm itself? It was old. Very old. Well, by my standards, anyway. It either dated to around the American Revolution or the Civil War. I wasn't exactly a gun expert. Point was, it was some type of musket, and I had no idea how to fire one. And that was certainly what Agnes wanted me to do, based on how she had dragged me to what could pass off as an old gun range.
"You know this gun is old enough to be considered a family heirloom where I'm from, right?" I said, looking at the weapon incredulously. Outside of the basic rules of gun safety, and that pulling the trigger made it fire, I had no idea how to use the thing.
"Just, try, alright?" Agnes unamused by this either, rubbed her hand against her forehead. Something was frustrating the woman, and I doubt it was a lack of effort. Sure, I'd embarrassed myself plenty today, but I at least tried.
"Fine," I mumbled, picking up the pouch of bullets and gunpowder. I wasn't going to point the weapon at anything I didn't intend to hit anyway, plus or minus the broadside of a barn. I strapped both onto my person, before my fingers wrapped around the gun barrel, lifting it up. Was this thing even loaded? Unlikely, as that simply was poor firearm safety. But you always treat a gun as if it's been loaded. Even if you knew for certain it hadn't.
It wasn't, however. I could feel that it wasn't. The barrel was empty, with no powder, nor bullet, to be found within.
How did I know that? I didn't have any idea. I just simply did.
Three targets were in front of me, and I needed to hit all three. How do I even load this weapon in the first place? I didn't know. But my body did.
My body was on autopilot. As if it knew every step of the process. Powder. Bullet. Target.
The smell of gunpowder filled my nose, and yet I stopped myself from choking. Straw exploded off the target. A hit, though not the center of mass. Reload, next target. Correct. Another blast of straw, this one closer to the center. Correct. Reload. Center of mass.
Three shots. Three hits.
Then the autopilot came to a screeching halt, and I nearly gasped, precise knowledge filtering out of my mind. I felt, winded, even more so than I had during all of today. My knees quaked as if they were struggling to keep me standing.
What just happened? How did I? I placed the firearm down carefully, before turning to Agnes, who wore a face of utter shock. Not that I could blame her. I was just as surprised as she was.
"How?" Agnes said, slackjawed, as I shrugged. That was new. I'd never done anything like that before. Even with a more modern weapon, with a scope, I still had issues hitting the broad side of a barn from the inside.
"I don't know. It's just as much of a surprise to me," my voice sounded hoarse. I'd already felt as if I'd run a marathon, and this was nearly adding a second lap on top of that.
"I guess the question is if you can recreate that with other weapons," Agnes gave me a look, one that crossed curiosity with something much more predatory. "We need to spare again using real swords."
"That sounds like a terrible idea," I muttered, even if she did raise a good point. Could it be recreated? Was it just guns? What were the conditions? The limits? Without a doubt, whatever that was, was useful. No doubt. But how far did it go?
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"We stop when you want to stop, or first blood," Agnes said, holding her sword. Henrietta stood off to the side, looking somewhat nervous. The sword in my hands felt heavier, this time one made of metal, rather than wood. Both my hands firmly gripped the leather-wrapped hilt. Normally, this would make me nervious. I'd never handled a real word in my life. But Agnes?
She had been onto something. The sword was heavier, and it felt heavier. But at the same time, it felt lighter, as if I had the strength to use such a weapon.
"Ready when you are," I said, firmly keeping my ground, Agnes taking the opportunity to begin. She opened with a thrust, exactly like our first match, but this time, I prayed the strike with ease, my body flowing like water as I retaliated. Agnes skillfully blocked, dodged, and weaved her way through my strikes, before launching her counterattack. I was forced on the defensive, blocking and dodging several strikes, before slashing. Agnes backstepped out of harm's way, and get I advanced, trying to back her into a corner.
We traded blows, attacking in blocking in turn, as each of us tried to reach an advantage. Though I already knew what Agnes's was. Time. And I think she knew so, too. I was tired. I'd been physically active the entire day, something Agnes knew. Sure, this new power of mine was putting gas in the tank. But I was burning through fuel faster than it could be added. I could already feel my muscles scream at me, even though whatever it was giving me the boost. I wasn't going to be able to hold out for long at this rate.
If I was going to win, I was going to need to win fast.
Which meant attacking.
I threw a series of blows toward Agnes, hoping to break my way through her guard. Unfortunately, Agnes was still my superior, deflecting and dodging her way through my attacks as I burned through more and more energy, despite my muscles screaming in protest. We looked blades, Agnes giving me a toothy grin, before punching me in the gut.
At the same time, my foot connected with her stomach. While Agnes's punch hurt, my kick created space, and it knocked the wind out of her lungs. I tried to close the range to take advantage of the opening, as I could tell I was just about on my last legs, but Agnes recovered quickly. One thrust was all I needed. Just one, small cut. I brought my sword back.
Only to feel a sting of pain on my cheek.
By seconds, Agnes beat me to it, landing first blood. I stopped my attack, as that would be poor sportsmanship, and let myself fall backward as the power receded. And once it was gone, every part of my body felt as if it was on fire. Everything hurt, all the way down to my toes, and my heart was pounding against my ribcage like a chest burster.
"Are, you okay?" Henrietta looked down at me, concerned.
"Just, give me a minute. Give my body enough time to figure out if it wants to combust or not," I muttered, trying to take my mind off the pain.
"You might want to find a better place to lie down. It may be a scratch, but you don't want that to get infected," Agnes offered me a hand up, with I reluctantly took. Not because she was wrong, but because the cool dirt felt nice. I needed a shower. Or a bath. Or both.
"Does that mean she passes?" Henrietta clapped her hands together excitedly.
Agnes and I had the same response.
"Absolutely not!"
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"It's going to draw too much attention," I explained, as Henrietta pouted. I'm not sure why she thought that would help her get her way, but I wasn't budging on the matter. And neither was Agnes. "The disparity is simply too great and draws way too much attention."
"But then just keep a weapon on you," Henrietta said, still not happy.
"It seems to only work if I'm holding it. And something easy to hide, like a knife, if dangerous to run with," I didn't say for myself or anyone around me, but having a weapon during physical exercise training would draw a different type of attention. Not to mention having a real weapon during a fake weapon spare would also be suspicious.
"Henrietta, we both agree it would be best to wait until they're skilled enough to join legitimately, to avoid suspicion. And I think the Cardinal would back us on such a decision as well," Agnes said, wrapping a special healing bandage around her stomach. I had one to match, as the punches Agnes left there had already started to bruise, but I'd returned the favor. The cut on my face was also bandaged. Frankly, I could probably play it up.
Henrietta looked like she wanted to protest, but finally seemed to give up.
"So your second plan is to join in the servants at the castle, right? I could train you up in the meantime," Agnes offered.
"Yes, and thank you for your offer. I'm more than willing to accept," I had no intention of turning aside additional help. If I could bring myself without this ability to something of partiality, there was no telling what I could do with it. "Plus, the wounds might help me sell a sob story as cover."
Agnes seemed to smirk at the comment, as if getting thanked for beating someone up was a funny concept to her.
"Well, at least I get to see you in a maid uniform now," Henrietta said.
Oh.
I did not think that through as well as I thought I had.