Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 08-03-23.

"I'm sorry, Shizuru. I love you—I… I truly do, but I don't share the feelings you have for me." The more Natsuki attempts to explain herself to her beloved psychopath, the greater her fear escalates.

Her confession has fallen completely on deaf ears.

Staring distraughtly at the student council president, Natsuki regretted her revelation twofold. Fujino Shizuru's façade has crumbled before her. It revealed emotions so raw to Natsuki that it terrifies her to the core.

"Na-tsuki, I… what?" Shizuru's gaze lowered to her hands. Teeth chattering, the elder woman looked as if she is going to cry at that very moment.

"It wouldn't have been fair if I never t—"

"—Never told me?" Shizuru whispered, her shoulders quaking as though a thousand tons lay atop them. Uncountable expressions tore along her features haphazardly. Some calm, others crazed. Then, fury. "You think of me as a psychopath?"

Natsuki's heart leapt upon the woman's accusation. Fear crept from the dark reaches of her mind, causing her to panic. "I never s—"

"Then what were you going to say?" In her rage, Shizuru spun on her heel. Only naturally did Natsuki attempt to follow her. Glaring over her shoulder, she spat: "Do not follow me!" Materialising her naginata, she apprehended Natsuki.

"S-Shizuru?!" A cry tore from Natsuki's lips, but she didn't realise what had just happened. The adrenaline only protected her for a sparse moment until she toppled to her knees. Gasping for air, she began to drown in her own blood. Hands leaping to the blade plunged inside her gut, Natsuki struggles to comprehend her reality. S-Sh-izuru had—why?! Succumbing to the agony, one final word bade her farewell.

"...Natsuki?"

CHAPTER VIII
Ātorsweord
(Venom-Sword)

XXII • CM Hidesdæg of Sawanmōnaþ
(The 22nd Day of Sowing Month, Worker's Day, 900)
One Fortnight Later

Lunging awake, Natsuki heaved as she choked on her own saliva. 'What… What was that?'

Sometime later, after regaining herself, Natsuki drags herself up to sit on her bed's edge. Planting her feet against the cool floorboards, she held her head in her hands. What had that been?! Panting, she restlessly slid her hands against her face and sighs. That had been a nightmare, but she had the mild suspicion it is bygone history.

But how?! Angling her forearms against her knees, she bowed her weight into them. Her head is spinning.

Picking herself up carefully, she stood in front of the nightstand. Dipping her hands into the basin atop it, the tepid water somewhat soothed her nerves.

She suffers from amnesia; is an Ánhere… and has nightmares potentially from a previous life?

What in the Gods' names is happening to her? Hell if she knows.

Natsuki grimaces as she wrings the water from the towel which had floated within the basin. If only all of her questions could be answered.

Lying the towel against her face, the motion pacified her anxiety momentarily.

Two weeks have passed since Natsuki's endeavour into the forest.

Yesterday, the Huntmaster had theorised that the wolves may have become aggressive due to the Black Death. A nearby village has been swarmed by the plague, and there's evidence of consumption by beasts.

Natsuki didn't know how to feel about it. Would the plague reach the Palace? If so, how severe is this disease? Judging by its name, it wouldn't go well for all inhabitants.

Ugh. Dropping the towel back into the basin once she is finished with it, she wanders over towards the window. Opening it, she leans against the sill, trying to relax as the gentle breeze brushes past.

The crimson sunrise broke through the clouds and above the forested cliff. Watching it, but not really paying attention, her mind strayed.

Viola still believed that she is lying. Natsuki isn't even sure why Viola would think this. In a world such as Earl, surely a silver wolf is common? After all, there's talk of such phantastical things like dragons, golems and shambling corpses… Supposedly not. Well, whatever the reason, it isn't her fault.

Or, at least she tried telling herself this.

"...—servants are asking whether we have any dirty clothes. They're preparing to clean out the rooms."

"Due to the Black Death?"

Turning her head towards the door, Natsuki listened in on the muffled voices.

"Yeah. Shizuru… What if she gets it? The plague? What then?"

"We would already know."

Is that Tomoe talking about her? This seems to be the case unfortunately as her door swings open. Staring at the two women from across the room, she became self-conscious. "...What?" She forced herself to grumble in her usual tone.

"It is a big day." Viola started, striding over towards her. She ignored the unsettled glance Natsuki threw her way. Motioning a nod towards Tomoe, the teal-haired woman left them. As the door shuts, she says: "I need to check you before preparations begin."

"Preparations?" Natsuki's forearm is caught between Viola's grip, and she is firmly guided towards the bed. She immediately starts to panic as Viola sat her down. "W-what are y—"

"Hush. I am merely checking your wound."

The Wælcyrge eased down onto her knees in front of her. Natsuki could only stare hard at the wall opposite them. Clenching the blanket between her hands, she hated every moment of this.

Pulling Natsuki's nightshirt upwards, Viola fell silent as she studied her bandaged midriff. Blood has long since dried up against the fabric. Just in time for the plague; such a wound would have been deadly, even with her skills. Prising the bandages away gently, she loosened them from around Natsuki. "The wound has fully mended." Viola remarked, pressing a palm to where it had been.

The skin is flawless; a welcome sight. "You will likely remain sore for a few days. I will keep an eye on it." Drawing back, she narrowed her eyes faintly as her Ánhere refused to look her in the eye. "...You are to practise with a sword of your choosing."

"A sword?" Natsuki finally pulled her gaze back, but leaned back slightly. Viola had crept up closer to her. Flushing hotly, she realised her mistake when the woman lay a palm against her forehead. "At least warn me before you do anything..."

Viola only observed her with mild amusement. Bandages in hand, she lifted to her feet. "No. Come, we must prepare for the day."


"There are three swords that I have selected for you." Viola said as they entered the armoury. This is a building beside the battlements and the blacksmith. It is filled to the brim with weapons, armour and gear.

Heading towards a sparse weapon rack with three blades, Viola runs a fingertip along the first sword's pommel. "The reverse edge falchiona peasant and knightly sword used for slashing and chopping." Brushing to the next, she repeated this motion: "The side-sword; this blade is the sister to the rapier and is a swiping and cutting sword. Or…" Her fingertips rested against the final pommel. "The infantry sabre, a spinning and slicing sword."

These swords surprisingly compared differently to one another. Natsuki edged closer to take a look, her eyebrows rising as Viola pulled the falchion up. It is a sturdy blade with a jagged tip; one that could do fatal damage. Unsure about this odd weapon, she pulled the side-sword out and twisted her wrist to study the blade.

It is a fancy sword with a blade that narrows into a dangerous point. Reaching forty-three inches, it has remarkable reach and is amazingly very light. Curiously arcing the blade, Natsuki is surprised by how natural it felt to hold. "Are all swords light?"

"Not all, but what use would there be if you cannot swing it?" Viola placed the falchion back onto the rack and drew away from Natsuki. "The side-sword is a peasant weapon and is very popular due to its flexibility. Like the rapier, it is a good beginner's weapon."

"Why didn't you choose a rapier?"

"They are awful for true combat." Viola said bluntly, her lips faintly curving as Natsuki stared with mild surprise. "A rapier is very light and bounces off surfaces. The most a rapier does is cut into the skin or impale an eye or two."

Natsuki grimaced. Still though, she'd rather not be cut at all.

So if the rapier is useless—apart from the gorging of eyes—why did Viola have one? Her eyes wandered to the Arcewælcyrge's sheathed rapier. Is it a power play? Rank? Either way, Natsuki didn't know. Pulling her attention to the final blade, she slot the side-sword back in place.

"The infantry sabre is a particular favourite of mine." Viola brushed behind Natsuki to stand by her other side. "It is a graceful sword and a favourite amongst nobility and soldiers." Now standing before the sabre, she pulled it from the rack. "It would seem that you prefer the side-sword and sabre?"

"I think I like the sabre the most." This has certainly been abrupt, but Natsuki is excited. She would take to learning swordsmanship over remaining stuck inside any time. Now, if only she could warm up to this woman. It is obvious indeed she is stuck with the Arcewælcyrge for the unperceived future.

"Then we shall train you in the sabre, perhaps later, the side-sword? Having a selection of weapons available is practical and it would offer you flexibility during training."

However, there are too many weapons and it would become confusing. So, the sabre it is.

"Come." Holding the blade's hilt, Viola angles the blade's point towards the floor as a precaution. Next she approaches another set of racks, taking two sabre sheathes and belts. Offering a set to the younger woman, she says: "Put this frog on. Blades are dangerous without their scabbards."

A frog? Natsuki's face scrunches up as she eyes the piece of leather oddly. Is it meant to attach to her belt? She guessed it is an old word…? Taking it, Natsuki clumsily attaches the thing to her belt. It looks… fine enough. Taking the scabbard that's given over afterwards, she notices two hooks attached to the upper end. Are these hooks for the frog?

Trying to make heads or tails about the hooks is impossible. So much actually that Viola says: "Do not worry about those hooks. They are for frogs without the cases. Your scabbard shall buckle inside the frog's case."

Ah… that makes more sense, Natsuki apprehensively nods. Thus, she is now handed the blade and carefully slides it into the scabbard.

It feels rather loosesomething she thinks would cause problems. However, it surprisingly did well to support the sabre from off the ground.

"The basic principles will be taught first." Viola spoke as she led her out the armoury and towards the courtyard.

This location is a spacious area that faces the Palace with the gardens wrapping around them.

Their surroundings were far too controlled for Natsuki's liking. These gardens were restrictive and forbade nature's freedom. The courtyard is gigantic enough, but the gardens were another story entirely. On all sides they seemingly went for miles. It makes Natsuki's head spin just thinking about the distance. They're immense!

Once confident they would not be interrupted here, Viola turned to Natsuki.

"First, the grip and stance." Unsheathing her sabre that rested atop her rapier's scabbard, Viola motioned Natsuki to copy her. Standing straight with her free arm pressing the small of her back, she explains: "The grip is important for the blade's weight and length. Hold it like you would a stave—as shown by me."

Her fingers were wrapped around the hilt with her thumb against its back. Lowering her sabre, she showed the younger woman who stood beside her. "The sabre is a circular swiping blade." Lifting it, she angled its tip downwards by forty-five degrees. Spinning it in a series of arcs several times, she landed the sabre against the back of her shoulders. "It is a light weapon that shall become your arm."

"I…" Natsuki stared at the woman, having not understood the fluid motions whatsoever. Although she had clearly witnessed it, the visual information hasn't entered her brain whatsoever. Furrowing her brow, she glanced down to her own sabre that she indecisively waved around awkwardly.

Although the blade feels natural, fanning it around like this certainly didn't. "How do I—" Her train of thought came slamming to a halt when Viola's palm encircled hers.

"Move the blade with your wrist." She explained, holding her own sabre within her left hand. "The action becomes fluid when you do so." She guided Natsuki's movement whilst positioning behind her. The blade is fanned to their left and hovered above their heads. "I will help you practise this strike." Brushing away from the Ánhere, she relocated to stand before her. Several feet away, she outstretched her sabre within her dominant right hand. "Copy my posture."

Pressing the back of her free palm against the small of her back, Natsuki fidgeted. She hadn't expected sword duelling to be rigid. Honestly, she had figured it to be an uncontrolled mess of swings and taunts. It spins her mind how increasingly complicated this is becoming. She worried what would happen if Viola advanced.

Either way, she will stand little to no chance at all.

Lifting her sabre, the blade scraped along Viola's. The brittleness went through her like nails on a chalkboard. Ugh.

"Like that. Now strike."

With her first attempt forwarded, Natsuki halted as the blade bounced against Viola's.

"Again." Viola urged, keeping her blade level. As the action is repeated, her eyes trained on the Ánhere. "Incorrect. Try again."

"But ho—"

"How?" Shizuru wet her lips, studying her. Natsuki is obviously confused. Humming, a potential idea formed within her mind. "Attempt to parry me." Not giving the woman a chance to readjust, she struck. Circling the blade over her head, she arced the sabre against Natsuki's.

The Ánhere stumbled in shock, but she did not relent. "Guard low." She called, slowly swinging her blade to Natsuki's thigh. Miraculously, her Ánhere managed to block it. Smiling slightly, Shizuru duplicated this action. "Good. Again." It seems Natsuki learned better when on edge rather than copying in leisure. "Your enemy will not be forgiving. Strike swiftly and confidently."

The more Natsuki practised, the clearer it became that attacking is easier than defending. In order to parry, it is incredibly tiresome. If a leg is out of place even slightly, it could get sliced. It is infuriating how many dangers required her full attention continuously. But, nevertheless, Natsuki found herself enjoying this immensely. "When—" She barely deflected the Wælcyrge's strike. "—can I start learning more?"

"When I am confident you can protect yourself with this sabre."

"Viola!"

Viola paused mid-strike. Lowering her sabre, she eased from her stance. "Relax." She cautioned Natsuki as Midori came sprinting their way. "Huntmaster?" She questioned, the redhead gasping for air.

"Ba-bandits. Bandits have attacked a local caravan." Heaving for air, Midori gestured for the duo to follow her. "Tw-o of the v-victims are at the g-ate."

Bandits? Natsuki quickly tailed the Arcewælcyrge who swiftly overtook the exhausted Huntmaster. There were more dangers other than wolves and the ruins? As they approached the Palace's tall gatehouse, it is surrounded by the Royal Guard.

Viola brushed the plate-armoured knights aside, mildly surprising the Ánhere. The Arcewælcyrge is certainly a force to be reckoned with if she commanded knights so easily. Natsuki slipped past them awkwardly, trying to ignore the stares she received through visors.

By the gate's portcullis, two people were positioned behind it. One's hands were threaded against the bars, whilst the other stood behind them slightly.

"You are the victims of a local caravan, I hear?" Viola questioned them on the portcullis' opposite side.

"Y-yes. P-please help us!" The front person—a teenage girl, it turns out—begged. "W-we were ambushed in the forest. They… they said…" The hooded girl's head pulled forward as a gasp tore her throat. "They k-illed…"

Watching the two carefully, Viola stretched her arm through the portcullis languidly. Resting an index and middle digit to the girl's chin, she relocked their gaze as she leaned close. ". . ."

Unable to hear what Viola is saying, Natsuki watched warily. The one behind the vocal girl hadn't uttered a word yet. They were also hooded and were emanating something… off. Should she warn Vio

"Lift the portcullis!" Too late.

Viola raised her hand to signal a knight who began to wind the winch. It seems however that Viola had already read through their disguised bandit.

Unsheathing her sabre, she pushed the teenager into the crowd of knights. Apprehending the hooded man, she parried the bandit's shortsword calmly. "Of which creed are you? What say you?" She demanded, their blades gliding against one another.

He said nothing.

So he is one of those types. Viola's mind is quickly set as she manoeuvres her blade to strike. He is inexperienced; his stance is all over the place. This much is obvious as Viola scrutinised his footing.

…One arm is raised by his side—correct for the shortsword—at least. In a flurry of blows, the Arcewælcyrge spun her blade with deadly precision. Every clumsy swipe by the bandit is either parried or dodged. The bandits had sent the novice as a sacrifice—they were testing them. 'No matter.' Increasing the speed of her strikes, Viola steadily pushed the bandit towards the battlement wall.

He is desperately attempting to fend her off, but it is futile. With so many openings revealed to the Arcewælcyrge, a bloodcurdling scream released from his lips.

The sabre had sliced into his thigh. Blood spewed from the wound like a fountain, uselessly dripping down his leg to smear fabric. "Y-ou bitch!" He screamed in fury.

"Not a mute, then?" Viola taunted, her façade transforming into a merciless smirk. As quickly as the expression formed, it disappeared. Merely smiling pleasantly, she spun her sword overhead, cutting down into the bandit's wrist. Blood spurted uncontrollably as the shortsword is dropped, another scream sounding. "Fortfiet." Pointing her sabre's tip at the man's throat who knelt down in shock, she bit: "Or die."

"N-no!" The teenage girl behind her yelled, being restrained by one of the knights. "H-he's innocent! The b-andits forced him!"

Viola didn't care to glance, her sights marked on the bandit. She remained in this position, utterly silent—even as he began to sob in terror. Why offer mercy to a bandit? They were all the same; murderers, thieves, rapists—schemers. Lifting her blade for the final strike, a deadly anger rose within her when her movement is halted. "Remove yourself, this instant!" She authorised Natsuki who held her swordarm.

"And what, let you kill him?! You have no idea what he's even done!" Natsuki growled as she clung to the thrashing Arcewælcyrge. "Listen to m—"

"Unhand me, Ánhere!" The Wælcyrge roared, throwing Natsuki from off of herself. As she fell over onto her back, Viola turned to face her. Aiming the point of her sabre to the woman's throat, she coldly said: "I will deal with you later." Twisting back around, she raised her sword-arm once more.

A scream from the teenage girl ripped the air as the blade slashed open the bandit's throat. Blood pooled around him as he choked within his own life-liquid. Then, he crumbled pathetically.

The atmosphere became deadly thick as the Arcewælcyrge turned around. "Throw his corpse on the path where the bandits will find him.". Drawing her focus on Natsuki who is prone on the floor, she glared through her. After a thick moment of this chilled exchange, Viola stepped over her and headed for the Palace.

'Oh. Shit.' Natsuki's heart hammered in dread, unable to stop staring at the crumpled bandit. She had killed him. Viola really did it. He hadn't stood a single chance.

The blood crept up towards her feet, and she quickly shuffled backwards. Shaking, her pupils contorted as the dead man's body sagged forward. Throwing herself up onto her feet, she stumbled mid-stride in her attempt to run.

"Ánhere!" A voice she didn't recognise sounded.

She hadn't the heart to find out who it is; rushing for the gardens—anywhere—away from this.


"Stupid, stupid girl." Viola growled under her breath as she prowled back and forth. Hooking an arm around her middle, her mind went wild. How dare that Ánhere stop her? 'Me! How dare she?'

Brushing her knuckles to her lips, she stopped by the window. Staring out, her anger merely increased as it began to rain. What gave her Ánhere the right to believe she could stop her? Bandits were bandits. They couldn't and wouldn't be offered respite. Her Ánhere is either naïve or stupid. Worse yet, perhaps both.

"Tomoe. Bring her here. Now."


It has been over an hour since she had fled here. Uncaring of the rain, she sat beneath an old tree on the Palace's forest edge.

How could Viola heartlessly slaughter somebody like that? This, and in front of his victim? The reality of her situation is gnawing at Natsuki's sanity. Her Wælcyrge—or whatever she is at this point—is linked to her in Soul Pact. Or, supposedly.

Natsuki didn't… She isn't sure what to think of Viola at all. Is she a psychopath or something more sinister? Her mind wandered to the nightmares she has been experiencing recently. That surely isn't real, truly? She frowned in concern as she hugged her legs close to her body.

Earl, Ánhere, Wælcyrge—what is the truth, honestly? In her short existence, she has witnessed horrors that could ruin a person. From savage wolves, hallucinatory horses, feminine machines, to her only rock's war crime. Natsuki felt conflicted. Rather than face Viola, she would prefer digging her own grave and hiding within it forever.

A clap of thunder reverberated throughout the region, and a hard gust of wind pushed against her. Brushing sodden hair from her eyes, she mumbled as torrential rain trickled down her face. Angrily, she wiped the liquid away in futility.

To think she had prayed that the Arcewælcyrge would discover her a fortnight ago. Who… What is Viola?

Shivering, she did not notice the great silver wolf shift from behind the tree.

Rubbing her forehead tiredly, it is then when her eyes lock with crimson. Frozen still, she stared at the lupine who sat before her calmly.

"There you are."

Her ears twitched upon a voice she wished she hadn't heard at all. Staring through the wolf, she ignored Tomoe entirely who appeared by her side.

"Get up, or I'll make you."

Did Tomoe not… See the wolf? Natsuki's mind races as she stares into the canis lupid's scarlet gaze. It didn't do a thing—merely continuing to sit there before her. Wha-t did it… mean? Her eyebrows twitched as mental strain pooled within her mind, exhausting her further. Ugh, she didn't have the energy to deal with this.

"I said get up!" Latching hold of the woman's arm, Tomoe partially dragged the woman up. It is at this point that she hears a faint growl.

Stiffening, she pauses as her eyes wander to the forest. Noth—stumbling away from the younger Ánhere, Tomoe's hand leapt to her nose which now gushed.

W-hat had—the bitch had punched her?! Tomoe glared death at the panicked woman who remained by the tree. Pressing a digit to her nostrils, she attempted to stop the bleeding. Alas, it didn't, her lips merely smearing with the stuff. Storming towards the fellow Ánhere, she hooked Natsuki's jaw who made a move to stand.

"Follow. Me." Tomoe growled in fury as she snatched Natsuki's collar.

"Fuck. You." Natsuki hissed just as hatefully, the silver wolf having been forgotten within that moment.


A/N: To see what the sabres look like, Google 'English Infantry Sabre'. These swords varied in measurements, so I went with the measurements fencing sabres use. I'm also using the late Victorian models due to their elegance and lack of blade curve. It is a weapon that suits Viola completely. You should take a look at sabre combat, it's surprisingly fluid and graceful.

Infantry Officer's Sabre
Weight: 225g
Overall Length: 105cm
Blade Length: 90cm
Blade Width: 4mm
Blade Thickness: 1.2mm
Bell Guard: 17x14x15cm

Terminology

Frog — a sword's harness that attaches to a belt. These can include scabbards/sheaths.

Scabbard/Sheath — a sword's protective casing, these can also be used in combat for striking opponents.

Falchion — a quick slashing blade used heavily by knights and peasants in Mediaeval Europe. They have curved tips.

Side-sword — an early Italian rapier.

Sabre — a type of backsword (single-edged) with a curved blade. There's mainly two variations; Western and Eastern. The latter (Polish, Ottoman, Indian, etc) have excessive curves. The Western variation meanwhile, (usually) does not (British, German, French, etc).