"DO-RE-MI-FA-SOL-LA-SI-DOOO!" a screech akin to scraping a fork over a plate, or maybe running your fingernails over a chalk table powered over any other sound in the vicinity. Which were already surprisingly muted, considering the carriage that raced across the empty plains at breakneck speed. The wheels of the cart slid seamlessly across the road as if they were floating, and the spectral horses, disguised as regular ones, for the time being, ran across the ground with such grace it was as if their hooves were stepping on pillows. That was due to the many magical enhancements made to the carriage in order to ensure a travelling experience that would more than rival that of any private limousine. The interior had been enlarged to the point it was three times as spacious as it looked from the outside, on top of being furnished with the highest quality of goods, sewn with thread that would make silk feel like sandpaper and decorated with gold and silver engravings. It also came with a compartment filled with food that wouldn't be out of place for it to be served at a world-class restaurant, kept at the optimum temperature for consumption. All in all, it was a luxury even royalty could only dream of, but that didn't stop its sole guest from dying of boredom.
As one who has experienced the lavishing lifestyle of nobility ever since birth, such accommodations were considered a given for Elizabeth Bathory. If she had been presented with anything less, she would reward the utter lack of respect tenfold. Since her producer was already on thin ice for his refusal to accompany his greatest star on her first tour, she was already more than ready to give voice to her irritation. Said irritation who was greatly spurred on by the three completely monotonous days she had spent on the road. Aside from the occasional bandit attack, (seriously, whoever was in charge of the Empire could use a lesson or two in governing their territory), there was absolutely no noteworthy event to speak of. This was not the exciting beginning of the career journey she had envisioned, and it was all the producer's fault. If he hadn't managed to convince her that experiencing life on the road was a crucial part of a tour, she would have long since teleported to her destination. At this point, she should have been showering in the love and affection of her fans, not being forced to stare at the never-ending expansion of nothingness that stretched beyond her window.
In the beginning, she tried to pass the time by speaking with the retainers assigned to her by Master, but for some reason, he had chosen to give her a summons that lacked hearing. They could still communicate by reading her lips, but the whole process made communication a slightly-tedious ordeal. Then she tried every dish that was prepared for her, finding everything suitable to her palate. She did her best to ignore the sight of the human-disguised familiars that eyed her strangely as she practically devoured the food in front of her. It couldn't be helped though: being an idol requires a lot of energy. And it wasn't like she would put on any weight, she was a Servant after all. She had particularly enjoyed those drinks that the shady-looking bartender made, although they made her feel a bit funny and she couldn't properly remember what happened after she drank them. Apparently, she had called the producer at that time, but she had no idea what they talked about. He did act strangely when they spoke the next day for some reason.
After she got bored of 'sampling' the food, she entertained herself with the new piggies she had picked up on the road. Those peasants that had had the gall to try and rob her were in dire need of a good talk to. It got old pretty fast, though. She honestly didn't see why her older self was so passionate about torture. "I suppose that's why she ended up the way she did." Thinking about what she eventually became wasn't pleasant, but it didn't bother her that much. She is who she was, simple as that.
Since she ran out of ways to keep herself busy, and the producer was busy cosplaying as an adventurer or something, all that was left for her to do was to keep practising her voice. If she was shooting for the top of the idol world, she couldn't neglect practice. For all that she knew, her rival could very well end up getting summoned herself, and she wasn't going to fall behind. That pesky emperor already had a monopoly on Christmas carols, if she didn't put her foot down and made a statement, she would soon find herself falling into obscurity. Behind all that glamour and smiles, the idol industry was a harsh environment where only the strong thrived, while the unworthy were devoured by an uncaring society that cared only for their immediate entertainment.
She had gotten so into her practice that she didn't even notice the small, greyish shapes as they peaked their heads over the horizon. Those blurry outlines grew with every second they approached, a testament to the vehicle's speed, slowly converting into arches and columns, sliding up and down, intertwining and assembling into a great wall, stopping nature's advances and sheltering the numerous buildings that constituted the city, of which only tiled roofs were visible at the moment. Soon enough, the coach was forced to slow down to a more mundane pace as more and more carriages appeared on the road. Most of them were very common ones you could find in any small town, while a couple could barely be considered carriages, consisting of a bunch of twigs barely stitched together, pulled along by a horse that looked like it had 3 feet in the grave already. Very few of them bore the symbols of nobility, but even the most luxurious of cabs paled in comparison to the Lancer's ride. Everyone unconsciously shifted to make way for its passing, looks of awe and envy following its trail as the carriage made its way towards the Baharuth Empire's capital, Arwinstar.
After finally realizing she was almost at her destination, Lizzie barely had time to make herself ready before being stopped by the guards at the entrance. She pulled up the makeup kit Medea had lent her and began applying it on her face, moving with grace and efficiency that spoke of great practice. The more "exotic" parts of her body began to glitter before vanishing, concealed by the glamour imbued in the makeup. It was a process she found especially irksome, but it couldn't be helped. The citizens of the New World appeared to hold prejudices against non-humans, for reasons she couldn't fathom. To be forced to disguise her perfection instead of graciously sharing it with the masses, it was a most hideous arrangement, but she had a plan to rectify that. Their hearts who have been blackened by fear; their eyes who have been blinded by hatred, it was her duty as an idol to break this vicious cycle. She had no doubt her songs will be able to reach them, to offer a beacon of light in the sea of darkness they have been forced to live in for so long. That was the true essence of a singer, one who could make people forget their difference and truly connect with one another. The Empire was but a mere stepping stone, soon enough the whole world will be saved by her music.
With such strong determination in her heart, Lizzie got out of her seat and approached the scruffy-looking man serving as gatekeeper. On his breastplate rested the sigil of the Empire: two griffons joined together, holding a shield, together adorned with a crown. In short, he was the kind of lowly grunt that she would usually relegate to her attendants, however, she had something she needed to inquire about.
"Everything seems to be in order," he said, checking over the documents that one of the familiars handed him. She couldn't be bothered to memorize the backstory forged in them, just that she was a noble from a faraway country. Which wasn't even untrue. "It's just that I have to check over everything to make sure there isn't any contraband or something of the sort in either of the wagons. I'm really sorry about that, it's a new policy implemented by the Emperor." He sounded like a man that had endured one too many painful encounters with stuck-up nobles, insulted by the idea of someone looking over their belongings and deciding to take it out on him. Luckily, that worked in Lizzie's favour.
"Sure, I have some baggage that needs to be transported. Just one second," she responded, heading towards the other wagon.
It was clear that this second compartment had not been in the original plans for this carriage, having been hastily built on the road to accommodate the need for more space. The craftsmanship was still exquisite, but it came short of the quality displayed by the overall stagecoach. It didn't need to though, it served its purpose quite well. Opening the door, she was greeted by a familiar sight. A dark room, much larger than the given space allowed it, enclosed from every corner with cobblestone walls. Hanging from them, proudly on display, was every torture device one could think of on the top of their head: chains, scalpels, saws, branding irons, even an iron maiden in the corner. It was far from the collection she sported back in Nazarick, but it had been the best her Territory Creation had been able to come up with on the spot.
Blinded by the light coming from the open door, the people inside backed away deeper into the room. There were almost two dozen of them, though one could easily mistake them for walking corpses. Their skin had a deadly parlour to it, their eyes empty, devoid of any light. Their clothes were torn-up rags drenched in blood, despite not one of them showing signs of any wounds. At the sight of the petite redhead, they started trembling, putting their hands over their eyes in a vain effort to deny reality.
"Hello there, piggies!" she cheerfully greeted them with a bright smile. "We've finally arrived at the capital, so I can dump all of you off my shoulders now. Ah, but if any of you want to stay, you're welcome to join my team! If I'm going to put on a good show, I'm going to need more hands on deck. Sure I have the Shapeshifters producer gave me, but there's still a lot to do. I'm talking costume design, merch selling, stage choreography..." she continued to trail off as the bandits looked at her with a combination of equal parts bewilderment and terror.
"So, what do you say?" she asked expectantly.
"You're...you're really going to let us go?" a bald man with a deep scar across his eyes managed to stammer out. Once, he had been a figure that always dominated the top spot of the wanted lists posted at the Workers' taverns. Now, he was a shrivelling caricature of a man, scared of his own shadow.
"I mean, they're probably going to put you in jail or something, but yeah."
The room exploded with tears of relief and happiness as they all fell to their knees and thanked her from the bottom of their hearts. All safe for two women huddled together in a corner. Uncaring of the commotion around her, the Blood Countess approached them and gently took one of their faces in her hands.
"I didn't notice until now, but you're really pretty!" she commented in an uncharacteristically suave voice, causing the blonde to unwillingly blush.
"So, what do you say"? she addressed them back in her usual energetic tone. "Want to help me on my journey of becoming a superstar?"
Neither of them managed to formulate a response, instead opting to shyly nod their heads. Their fellow bandits looked at them like they had grown a second head, but they couldn't blame them. They were just as shocked by their decision.
"Great!" Lizzie exclaimed, completely oblivious to the mood around her. She gestured to her retainers to come to pick them up. "These guys will help you change and show you the ropes. They're not very talkative, but they know their stuff, so you're in good hands.
"Now the rest of you" she turned to address the other piggies "please continue to support me and be sure to come to my concerts when you get out of prison. I'll be sending you all t-shirts!" She frantically waved them goodbye before snapping her fingers. The inside of the cart turned back to normal, the bandits now clumped up together as the space around them suddenly shrank.
As she perused the busy streets of the city, Lizzie couldn't help but compare the architecture to the one of France of her time. They weren't exactly identical, but the similarities were great enough that she could imagine herself once more wandering around the great boulevards of Paris, dining at the highest-class restaurants and shopping for the finest of dresses. The streets had similar layouts, identical houses circling around a broad square, usually host to some statue or fountain. The buildings themselves had the same high mansard roofs, and tricolour facades of broke, stone, and slate, but they also blended together pillars of marble and stone resembling the Greeks. She could see some of the more important buildings stood out from the rest, not only by the subtle but effective embroideries of gold and silver along their exterior but also the cupola or dome over the central nave replacing the regular roofs, being supported by two levels of columns on each side.
However, that was where the similarities began to end. The atmosphere that infused the very air of the great city was totally different. It wasn't the free-spirited amalgamation of people and ideas, it was heavy like someone had stacked a bundle of rocks on people's shoulders. Sure, they went about their day like usual, they ran around, laughed, and got into fights, but under all of that laid a certain tenseness, like they were ready to bolt out at the smallest sign of trouble. It didn't help that at almost every corner one or two royal guards would show up without fail, watching over everyone passing by like hawks searching for prey. They seemed to pay special attention to any carriage spotting the sigil of nobility, and she had a feeling they were trailing her specifically. She didn't understand why there were so high-strung. She had helped bring in numerous criminals to justice, she should be rewarded, not be detained for half an hour, forced to answer pointless and stupid questions. She made a mental note to have a word with whoever was in charge. A performer of her standing should not be treated in such a crude manner.
After stopping a couple of times to ask for directions (unsurprisingly, the monsters working for her weren't that great at communication), she finally arrived at the place she was going to perform in. She had to give it to her producer, he had made good on his promise. It was a great hall, almost the size of a palace, placed between a walled courtyard in the front and a garden in the back, with the entrance to the courtyard through a pavilion on the street. Without a doubt, it was a stage worthy of her talent, a place that would no doubt be one day remembered for hosting the birth of her legend. Her new legend, anyway.
However, the first sign of things going wrong reared its head as soon as she stepped out of her carriage. Instead of the great reception she had been expecting, she was instead greeted by an old scrawny-looking man, with a comically large pair of glasses on his face. She was in a pretty generous mood though, so she was willing to overlook such a mishap this one time.
"Greetings, piggy! My name is Elizabeth and I'm the one that's going to be performing here tomorrow." She boastfully declared. "So, where is my room? I have to start getting ready for my rehearsals if I want to be in top form for the show. Have the tickets sold out already? If there is still demand I'm sure we can find a way to accommodate more people, I can't let any of my fans miss my debut show!"
The old administrator broke out in a cold sweat, his face turning paler with every subsequent word.
"Well, you see.." he coughed, trying to clear his throat. "I'm afraid we have been unable to contact your ladyship, so we couldn't inform you of the sudden change. There has been a slight...rescheduling issue, so we were forced to give your spot away."
Lizzie's smile froze on her face.
"What? Did? You? Just? Say?" Although no magecraft was involved, a dark aura of pure despair, not unlike her Master's, surrounded her entire being and clouded her features. Only a bloodshot eye could be made through the thin veil of death.
"We sincerely apologize! It was a decision outside of our control, and we weren't able to..." Faced with such murderous intent, the man's words got stuck in his throat. "The Emperor himself decided to host an event tomorrow night, we were in no position to refuse. Ah, but of course, we are more than willing to find you a spot, I'm sure we can work out for you to perform next week without issue." he hurriedly added. He was fervently praying for his knees to not fail him.
"NO!" she furiously stamped her foot. She had spent enough time waiting around. This was her time to shine, and she wasn't going to be refused any longer. "Tell me" her voice carried such authority the glasses-wearing man felt like he was being addressed by the Emperor himself. "what is the biggest event held around here? What brings the largest crowds?"
"That would be the Imperial Arena, my lady," he answered. "Wherever there is a big fight, like when a challenger fights the Martial Lord, everybody rushes in to spectate. It gathers even more popularity than the Baharuth Festival or even the Emperor's birthday. Everybody is always eager for a good fight. Oh, but I'm sure my lady has no interest in such barbaric activities." he apologised, realizing he had left his mouth run awry.
Lizzie's expression, on the other hand, changed from anger to introspection.
"The Imperial Arena huh..." she muttered to herself. She remembered the great Collosieum like-building when she passed by it, mainly because it reminded her of the very first venue she performed in the New World. "I could work with that." She could feel the corner of her mouth raising, making way for razor-sharp teeth to peek out from her smile.
Author's notes:
I've got minor food poisoning the other day at a restaurant, but the food was so good I'd still come back there to eat again.