Realm of Monsters

“So there I was, without a weapon, my ax lying on the sand in pieces. Totally defenseless,” Sylvie said in a hushed, energetic voice.

“And then what happened?” Callum asked with a child-like wonder.

Sylvie grinned, “I let her attack me and I–”

Freya rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop herself from smirking just a little. Stryg sat on a chair next to her, staring out at the window of the infirmary room. 

Callum was still confined to his bed, but he was sitting upright. The white mages said he’d be discharged any day now. Until then, he was ordered to drink a lot of liquids, primarily blood, and to get a lot of rest. None of that stopped Sylvie from visiting him every day and regaling him with her adventures; whether it be as simple as tasting a new kind of muffin or as deadly as dueling against a sword master. Either way, Callum listened ardently to her every word.

“–And then with her own sword in my hand I clashed blades with Diane of Murkton and through the skin of my teeth I managed to defeat her!” Sylvie jumped to her feet in triumph.

Callum clapped and smiled, “And I thought your last match was incredible! But after listening to your story right now, oof. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to go against an actual swordmaster in a real duel.”

“Yeah, it was scary, but luckily I managed to beat her,” Sylvie laughed abashedly.

“Luck?” Freya spat the word as if it were poison on her lips. “There was no luck involved. You didn’t even struggle in that fight! You completely destroyed that orc. In fact, you literally went against my request and went ahead and chopped off another person’s arm! Why aren’t you telling that part of the story, huh!?”

“The truth doesn’t make nearly as good a story,” Sylvie pouted with crossed arms. “And now you just ruined the story for Callum!”

“No worries, I already heard the official story,” Callum winked.

“Huh? How!?” Sylvie said.

Callum pointed at his four white walls, “I’m stuck in an infirmary room, unable to go outside. All everyone talks about around here is what happens outside. Five minutes after your duel I had already heard half a dozen stories of your fight.”

“Then why sit there and listen to me…?” Sylvie mumbled.

“I much rather hear your story, they’re always more fun,” Callum said.

“Oh…!” Sylvie mumbled. Her olive-brown cheeks blushed a faint red.

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” Freya gagged dramatically.

“Um, I already did,” Callum said pointedly.

“I hate you both,” Freya said flatly.

“So, you liked my story more?” Sylvie smiled.

Callum nodded, “I did! Except…”

“Except what?” Sylvie asked.

“Well, you never told me you were a swordmaster. Not just in the story, but like ever. Why didn’t you tell me?” Callum asked.

“I don’t know, it never seemed that important,” Sylvie shrugged stiffly.

Callum stared into her scarlet eyes. He wanted to say something but he thought better of it, and instead simply smiled, “You really are incredible, you know that? You’re a prodigy mage and one of the youngest sword masters alive. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Lose,” Sylvie said proudly.

Callum laughed and grabbed her long slender fingers, “Did I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met?”

“I’m right here, you know?” Freya muttered.

“I can’t remember, Cal. Why don’t you say it again,” Sylvie smiled.

“Okay, that’s it. I can’t stand being in the same room with the googly-eyed dumbasses any longer,” Freya groaned and stood up, “I’m out of here. Stryg, you coming?”

“Yeah, one sec.” Stryg looked away from the window and glanced at the dire vampiress, “Sylvie. I have a question about your duel.”

“Hm? What is it?” she asked. “If you want some sword tips, I can’t help you. Our styles are very different.”

“I noticed,” Stryg said dryly. “No, I wanted to ask you about something else.”

“Okay, go for it,” Sylvie smiled.

“That. That right there,” Stryg pointed at her face. “Why are you smiling?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Sylvie chuckled.

Stryg leaned forward on his chair, his lilac eyes staring at her closely, “Why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know. Why does anyone smile?” Sylvie threw her hands up.

“People smile because they’re happy,” Stryg said objectively. “Like when they eat tasty food or when they defeat their enemy.”

“Okaaay…? Where are you going with this?” Sylvie furrowed her brow.

“Earlier today, right after you won your duel, as the crowds were cheering for you, you were smiling,” Stryg noted.

“Yeah, I was happy I beat Diane and got Hollow Shade another win. Just like you said, people smile when happy,” Sylvie said. 

Callum shook his head, “Stryg, I really don’t know where you’re going with this–”

“–Except she wasn’t happy,” Stryg said. “Cal, you know I can see and hear better than most people. And even though I can’t hear very well above the crowd’s voices, I can still see just fine. Sylvie, back there in the arena, you were smiling, but I saw your eyes. You weren’t happy… So why were you smiling?”

Freya whispered, “Stryg, maybe you shouldn’t–”

“I don’t get your question,” Sylvie laughed awkwardly.

Stryg stood from his chair and walked right up to her, “You wanted us to be honest with each other. So I’m asking you, why did you smile back then?” He looked up into her eyes, “Why are you smiling now?”

Sylvie’s smile widened, “...Because I’m happy. Why do you have a problem with that?”

Stryg sighed, mildly annoyed, “Where I’m from the Sylvan air their grievances aloud. When they are angry they make it known and they deal with it, usually by force. And honestly? It works.”

“Good for them?” Sylvie said, confused.

Stryg clicked his tongue and took a deep breath, “A bit of friendly advice… from someone who held in his own pain… even at the cost of pushing his own tribe away… Don’t keep that pain and anger within you.”

“Okay…? Thanks for the advice, but really, I wasn’t angry,” Sylvie said nonchalantly.

“Hm,” Stryg narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go, Freya,” he turned and walked towards the door.

“Way ahead of you,” Freya called out from the hallway.

Stryg stopped at the doorway and glanced back at Sylvie, “...I saw your eyes at the arena and I recognized it for what it was because I’ve seen the same look in the mirror countless times. You’re not angry, Sylvie. You’re furious.”

Sylvie’s smile cracked and her scarlet eyes grew cold, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stryg shrugged and walked away, “At least one of us does.”

~~~

Plum sat next to Veronica’s bedside. The young Sientia heiress was covered with silk blankets and feather-stuffed pillows. A table filled with flowers and gifts sat on the other side of the overly large bed. “Uncomfortable” was not the word one would use to describe Veronica’s luxury infirmary room and yet, it was exactly how Veronica felt.

“When can I get out of here?” Veronica grumbled.

“I don’t know. Do I look like a healer?” Plum muttered as she read a book.

“No, you’re too pretty.” 

Plum looked up from her book and smiled warmly, “Thanks.”

“Ugh, I rather pretty boys visit me instead,” Veronica groaned and kicked her feet up in the air.

“Aaand there she is,” Plum sighed and went back to reading.

“I thought Calex would have visited me by now…”

Plum reached out and patted her arm, “He’s probably just busy. His mom is the queen of the City of Thorns. I doubt she lets him have much free time, especially now of all times.”

“Yeah, I know but still… This sucks.”

“What exactly?”

“Not having good company.”

“I’m not good company?” Plum raised her eyebrow.

“You spend half your time reading books, so no, not really.”

“Meh, fair enough. At least I’m here every day.”

“For like an hour at best.”

“I’m busy working with your dad. You know, the lord who literally pays for my living expenses.”

“Just ask him for a few days off. He’ll be totally cool with it.”

“You really don’t know how a job works, do you?”

“That gives me a great idea. I should hire a bodyguard to fend off Damian.”

“The Parvus boy? Isn’t he your teammate?”

“Yeah, but ever since he lost his arm he’s been coming in for potions for the pain. And every time he comes he always stops by my room. Ugh, I hate it.”

“Let me guess, he’s the one who brought the roses?” Plum glanced at the table across from her.

Several bouquets and vases of flowers sat on the table. All the flowers were already beginning to wilt, especially the large centerpiece, a giant gold-rimmed vase stuffed with dying red roses.

“How did you know?” Veronica giggled.

“They’re a little too gaudy for your taste, though they are somewhat romantic I suppose,” Plum thought aloud. “Hey… What about those water hyacinths?”

“The ‘what’ now?” Veronica blinked.

“The flowers with the six pale purple petals. Those look nice, a bit odd to find them here, though. They don’t usually grow around these parts.”

“First off, I think they’re pretty ugly. Secondly, how do you even know what they’re called? I don’t even know what they’re called.”

“My mother was a book-loving scribe who named me after a flower; suffice to say she taught me a lot about flowers growing up. And for your information, water hyacinths are quite nice.”

Veronica crossed her arms, “Well then ‘Miss Flower,’ what do you know about those hyaseth flowers?”

“It’s hyacinth. And they usually only grow where there’s lots of water. Hence their name, water hyacinths.”

“That much seems pretty obvious. Anything else?”

Plum walked over to the pale flowers and stared at them closely, “The water hyacinth represents beauty, sincerity… and sorrow.”

“I didn’t know that…” Veronica whispered.

Plum wrinkled her brow, “Hey, these hyacinths… Have you been watering them?”

“Pfft, does it look like I water plants?” Veronica snorted with laughter.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Plum said wryly. “It’s a little odd, I guess.”

“What is?”

“This flower needs a lot of water to live. But unlike all your other flowers, the hyacinths are wilting. Who brought you these floors?”

Veronica shrugged, “I don’t remember. I’ve gotten like twenty different flowers this past week. I lost track of them a long time ago.”

“Right, silly me,” Plum said.

A knock rang on the door. “May I come in?” a deep, yet soft voice asked from the other side.

Veronica’s face paled. “No! You can’t.”

“Must we do this every time?” The door slowly creaked open and a tall, handsome crimson-skinned youth walked in. “All I want to do is talk.”

Plum’s eyes widened in shock. She recognized the chiseled jaw and striking amber eyes from the coliseum, “Gilgard… Morrigan…?”

Gilgard looked down at Plum and stiffened, “Oh… I didn’t know you had another visitor. I should probably go…”

“Yes! Yes, you should. Not like I wanted you here in the first place,” Veronica said nervously.

Plum slowly glanced at her friend and then at the fresh bouquet of water hyacinths in Gilgard’s hands. Plum’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “Oh, please, don’t leave on my account. I was just heading out myself. Why don’t you take a seat, sir Morrigan.”

“Huh? Are you sure?” Gilgard asked.

“Please, I insist,” Plum nodded repeatedly and began to step towards the door.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!” Veronica whispered exasperatedly.

“I’ll be in the hallway, call me if you need me,” Plum winked and slammed the door shut.