"Hail Valentina, Maiden Goddess of War!"
What? I'm a goddess now? Me, the daughter of a common street whore in some no name village where the gods never deigned it smile at once? I guess with military victories come fancy titles. "Valentina, Maiden Goddess of War" is certainly far better than my old full name, "Valentina Whoraughter".
The biggest shock for myself is that I thought myself and my Elite Guard would attract no attention coming into the Royal City of Chrysanthemum just before Sunrise, but no such luck. Within minutes the whole street was crowded with well-wishers shouting "Hail, Valentina. Hail, Valentina!" But after initial embarrassment, I was beginning to enjoy myself, especially seeing that some of the well-wishers were of the highest classes.
With a flamboyance I felt I owed the crowd, I had my horse stand on its back feet as I raised my sword high, letting the rays of the sunrise make my golden armor shine. The crowd shrieked in delight at the sight. I hope some artist is in the throng and will paint the scene. It is not that I have a huge ego (being the daughter of a whore weans that out of you), but I would love to see the spectacle from the onlooker's eye. Both the horse and the armor were gifts from my patron, King Ambrose IV, given to me in pieces after each victory. If meeting my patron for the first time goes as well as my initial entry to the city, today will be the first good memory I have of this day, the fourteenth day of Duodecimo, the Feast of Eros.
Bah, what a concept. The Feast of Eros, a day spent toasting the gods of romantic love. Take it from a whore's daughter, there is no such thing as romantic love. There is the love one gains from one's mother, and you could call certain friendships "love", but romantic love is a myth that skalds dream of, and refused to stop mentioning to us others.
My mother was a common street whore, and my father is unknown even unto the gods; just some random partaker of my mother's services one night where mother's usual safeguards to keep from being pregnant went awry. I have little doubt my existence within her womb cost her money she desperately needed, save that she did something none of the other street whores had ever imagined doing...using her mouth in place of her fleshy scabbard that all men wish to place their swords of flesh within. When I hit puberty mother taught me the trick, in case I would ever have need for it. After all, what future is there for a whore's daughter than to be a whore oneself?
Oh, that fateful day four years ago. King Ambrose's army had failed him again, and our village was being taken by looters from the conquering army. It was that day I last saw my mother alive, as she was violently raped before my eyes, sacrificing her own self in hopes the enemy soldiers would not find me. But alas they did. I was not going to allow them access to my pristine scabbard easily, and grabbed a spatha sword I found in a closet, hoping to harm at least one of them before they raped me and killed me like they did my mother. With a high-pitched whoop that my mother taught me was the sound of the banshee, I felled the first one, and then the second, and then the third, and then the fourth and last. I knelt in front of my mother. Seeing her bleed the rest of her life away, I took some of her blood and streaked it on my forehead and cheeks. I dashed out of our hovel and ran to find more enemy soldiers, endeavoring to kill as many as I could until one at last killed me, to take away the pain I felt from the blood of my fallen mother. As I saw each soldier I gave my battle shriek, terrifying them with my appearance as I took my spatha and thrust it wherever I saw an opening in their armor. From behind me I heard others shrieking, and saw the other youths of the village take the gladius dropped by my victims and followed my manner. Within the hour we had killed the last of the looters. After setting forth a burial pyre for the victims (including my mother, alas), the youths swore to be my band.
When you expect to die at any moment, and have little to live for, it makes you daring in battle. Soon my little band grew more and more. With guerrilla tactics we went against the enemy, with each victory gaining us increased members as the youths of each redeemed village wished to join us. It was not long before I drew the attention of Chrysanthemum, who began to sing my praises. It was two years ago that I gained the title of General. There were generals at the Royal City who hated me for it, but King Ambrose told them that, had they been half as good as I, it would be them getting the praise and not me. But I had nothing to worry from those generals, none would want to displease the King, and my initial band still remains my personal bodyguards. The only worries I had was during battle, where enemy officers would shout at me, saying they would ensure I was no longer a maiden general by piercing my fleshy scabbard with their sword of flesh, but fortunately the Fates denied them, and to this day no man's sword of the flesh has penetrated me. Having seen my mother defile herself with me who used and abused her, and hearing the various nightly screams of mother's fellow whore, I never wish to allow a man to do the same to me.
***
At last, I made my way to the royal castle. Sitting on the throne was King Ambrose IV himself. He was a widower, with the last queen dying in childbirth, taking the heir she gave birth to soon afterwards. The scuttlebutt was that both mother and stillborn child were weak, and for that reason both died. The shepherds say that the royals did too much inbreeding with one another, and like common animals they become weak if their lineage diverged little. Shepherds took care saying this, as nobles care not for being compared to animals. I never thought too hard upon this. Looking at King Ambrose, with his short brown beard and aqua-blue eyes, that here was a man who has seen much sorrow, but for some reason is rebounding. I hope I was the cause for this.
"HAIL, KING AMBROSE!!!" I shouted as I raised my sword high, standing proud, and seconds later kneeled in front of him, sword point touching the ground. "I, General Valentina of the Whispering Woods, have come as you requested."
"HAIL VALENTINA, MAIDEN CONQUEROR OF THE ALASTRIANS!!!", shouted King Ambrose, raising his scepter high, and then lowering it. The court followed suit, "HAIL VALENTINA, MAIDEN CONQUEROR OF THE ALASTRIANS!!!". I heard the city's population seconds afterward shouting the same praise. For a simple whore's daughter, this was heady stuff.
"You honor me greatly my liege."
"No more than you deserve. The Kingdom has no need to fear the Alastrians for a least a generation or two, and by then the tales of your heroism will inspire our future generations to turn them back as the curs they are."
"Thank you, milord."
"But, you have arrived at an early hour? Perchance you wish to beat the robin to its earthly meal?"
"I was hoping to arrive simply into the city, but I had no idea I would be so recognized."
"When a land thirsts for heroines, they with quickly slake from the juice of victory a heroine provides. Now come, let us dine together. The Royal Court...is dismissed. You know to return when the sun is at its zenith."
I followed him to a private chamber behind the throne. It was the prettiest room I have ever seen, yet masculine just the same. It reminded me of the simple one-room cottages I had seen in my journeys, but the items were far grander, as befitting royalty. The table was of fine mahogany, and the bed was plush. I would think a king would have a separate bedchamber. King Ambrose saw what I was gazing at.
"Yes, I keep a bed here as well as in my master bedchamber above. In times of war and other great stress, I like having a single room where I can perform all the duties of state quickly. Now come partake in breaking our nightly fast."
I had heard of this morning ritual, shortened by some as "breakfast". Growing up, we ate whenever we could, as food was sometimes hard to acquire, especially during the raids. It was a gorgeous feast, with sliced ham and fresh strawberries practically radiating their deliciousness. It was complimented with the oddest porridge I ever had, made not of oats but of some fine grain I had never seen before. Our beverage was grape juice spiced with what King Ambrose said was cinnamon, noting the curiosity upon my face.
"Thank you my liege, I have never had a finer meal." I meant it; the berries were delicious.
"You are welcome, Valentina. There are Royals who have larger breakfasts, but I will not be as wasteful. A few different foods, complimentary to each other, are enough."
"I live to serve you, my liege. Now that we've have broken our nightly fast, please tell me how I can next serve your kingdom. Give me the names of your enemies, and I will smite them with my spatha."
"I have already decided how best you may serve the kingdom, which I will inform you of in good time."
"Thank you, King Ambrose..."
"Please; when we are alone, you may simply call me Ambrose. Consider it another gift."
"Thank you... Ambrose. I am grateful to give the citizenry of Chrysanthemum a valid holiday, as opposed to the nonsense holiday typically celebrated today."
"We have no preordained holiday today in Chrysanthemum. Tell me, what is this holiday you speak of?"
"In the village I hailed from, today was the Feast of Eros, which celebrates a silly notion, that of romantic love. Such a silly notion."
"Why is such a feast a silly notion?"
