Cool, pale moonlight streamed in shattered slits through the barred window overhead, illuminating a seated woman. Her fighting shirt and trousers, tightly fitting flexible garb whose purpose was to mark her as a combatant without restricting range of movement, stretched over her powerful form. She had curves and ample beauty, and beneath that was the strength of years of training. She had strength to fight, muscles to lift fallen allies, powerful legs for kicking down doors. And she had grace and elegance and purpose in her feminine allure. She could fight off the king's guard or seduce the king himself.
Rose, apprentice of Shallah and would-be Ring, sat on the hard wooden bench. Her fingers curled along its familiar seat, hands flexing over the worn-smooth oak. She had been in this small, dimly lit room countless times; it's a staging area off the training grounds. She had come here to change, to stretch, and to be coached before a fight. She was young, barely 19, when she had first been taken into Shallah's fold. A full decade of training and education had led to this. Over the past month, Rose had been tested. Over the past month, Rose had excelled. And now it was time for the final trial. The last obstacle between her and the coveted position of Queen's Ring.
The other candidate had left this stone staging room only 10 minutes ago, and Rose could hear her through the thick rocky walls. She couldn't see what the final trial consisted of, the specifics were kept a secret, but she knew it would involve pain. Unmistakable groans and grunts of effort and discomfort were carrying through the stone walls. "Pain" Rose though to herself. "I can handle pain."
A lifetime ago, after fleeing the orphanage, Rose had lied about her age to take odd jobs here and there. The one that stuck was in a blacksmiths shop. The man there didn't care about her story or her past, only that she could swing a hammer and take orders. Burns, heat, smashed fingers, the life of a smithy was a difficult one. But it was rewarding, and Rose found joy in shaping the heated metal. The rhythm and cadence of hammer swings always calmed her young, turbulent mind. It was in that smith shop that she had her chance encounter with Shallah, the well-dressed woman of status who came to pick up a small, impossibly sharp dagger Rose had worked on. That meeting had changed everything. Had led to her entry into The Risin. Had led her to beating out other candidates time and time again. Had led to her pledging her life to the crown. Had led to her finally feeling like she belonged.
Better still, her years as a blacksmith had given her an edge. Through training, through fighting, through tests of history and society and etiquette, Rose had always been able to keep calm. To push passed the overwhelming stressors and rigors of the program. When the world felt overwhelming and her classmates began floundering, Rose would retreat into herself. She would close her eyes and bring herself back to that smithy shop. To the strike-scarred anvil, heavy, steadfast, and reliable. In her mind's eye she'd use her tongs to hold a piece of heated metal, it's amber-orange glow warming her to a satisfying sweat, and she'd beat out the steady rhythm. Tap, tap, Bang. Tap, tap, Bang. 2 strikes on the anvil and one on the metal piece. Keeping a steady cadence. The thrumming beat of heat and movement. The heartbeat of blacksmithing. Of life.
She retreated to that place now. Lily, the other contestant, was failing. Rose couldn't see her through the thick walls, but she understood the sounds of defeat. She heard the cursing, the pain, the yelling, the crying, the failing determination. She had no idea what was on the other side of that wall, what ultimate test was devised as the final trial, but Rose couldn't sink into despair now. Not after all she'd gone through. Rose closed her eyes and pushed passed Lily's cry of anguish.
Tap, tap, Bang. Tap, tap, Bang.
The stress melted away. The anxiety was gone. Rose visualized the metal being flattened, turned, forged. Lily wasn't in the other room; there was no Lily. There was only Rose, the anvil, and the Rhythm.
So lost in her smith's shop, was she, that she didn't notice the shouting from the other room. Didn't hear Lily's cries as she was told she'd failed. Didn't feel the change in the air as the room was reset. The only thing that broke her from her trance was the knock on the door, eerily similar to the Rhythm itself. Rose opened her eyes to find Shallah, her trainer, entering the staging room.
"It's time." She said simply. Nodding, Rose stood and followed.
The training grounds consisted of a large, flat, circular space where sparring often occurred, and surrounding seating for observation and staging. There would be obstacles at times; logs, furniture, rocks, even animals that the combatants would have to navigate around. Through some mechanical means Rose didn't understand, the circle could even be made to rotate, pitch, or shake to challenge their footing. Rose had spent accumulative years of her life in this circle, and stepping onto it now felt as familiar as easing down into her bed every night. With every foot fall, though, that familiarity evaporated. Though the training grounds itself was the same, the air here was noticeably different.
In the stands sat familiar faces. Teachers, instructors, sparring partners, loyal members of the guard that she'd gone on lesser missions with. Faces she'd known throughout her years of training were all here to observe her final test. There wasn't the high energy excitement or cheering of a fight. The attitude here was serious. Cold. Grave.
Shallah led Rose to the center of the circle. The space was lit by amplified beams of moonlight, reflected off mirrors and intensified with glass lenses so the area was as brightly lit as daytime, though the light was a cooler, silver shade. Night was always Rose's favorite time to spar. The coolness helped her keep her focus. Here though, it felt foreboding.
"Shallah" Rose whispered as she stood next to her teacher. "What is the final trial? What am I going to have to do?"
Shallah looked into Rose's green eyes with a measuredly flat affect. When she responded, she did not match the hushed, urgent tone of her pupil. She spoke clearly, for all in the arena space to hear; "This is the Final Trial. Rosalind Smith, you have trained, you have studied, and you have proven yourself useful. But to be a member of the Queens Ring, you must be more. You will be asked to spy, collude, assassinate, and protect, all at the commands of your Queen. As secret servant of the Queen, you must be intelligent. Decisive. Ruthless. Incorruptible. But above all else, you must be loyal."
Rose nodded her head. She was ready. Ready to take on any challenge. Ready to prove herself loyal. Ready to die for her Queen, if that's what was required of her.
"This final test will be one of Loyalty to her majesty. Loyalty above all else. Above yourself. Above your pride. Above your humility. Above your shame. Above your body.
You have proven that you can fight. You have proven that you can kill. You have proven that you can steal and threaten and bribe. You have proven that you can blend in, disguise yourself, disappear in plain sight. All that remains is this test of loyalty."
"I'm ready!" Rose said confidently, her chest puffing out with pride. "I would die for my Queen."
"I believe you." Shallah stated, more quietly, with more than a hint of pride in her tone. More loudly, she continued, "but death is an easy way out. Death has no further consequences for you. If you die, that is the end. What of something more? Something you will live with. Something that will stay with you? A scar, but not of your body. Of your mind. Of your soul. Can you bare shame? Can you find strength in supplication?"
A door opened, ancient wood creaking on heavy hinges as two figures emerged from the opposite end of the arena. Tall, hulking figures. Two bipedal monsters approached with heavy footfalls and predatory stares. Rose held her ground, ready to fight, but Shallah put a hand on her elbow.
"You've proven yourself in the fighting arena, Rose. This isn't about fighting. It's about loyalty. It's a test to see if you can truly give yourself up. Do you love your Queen enough to submit? Do you trust her enough to bend without breaking? How far will you go in Her name?"
Less confident, surety waning, Rose inquired again, "what is asked of me?"
Shallah looked into the eyes of her pupil. She noted the fear buried underneath the conviction. She could see it in Rose's green eyes. In the lines of her furrowed brow. In the slight sheen of sweat sticking her curly hair to her forehead.
"Only this, Rose; prove your loyalty. Submit. You will follow the directions of these two until they are satisfied. If you wish to stop, you only need to raise your hands and splay your fingers. Do that, and the test ends. Do that, and you may leave without harassment. No further pain, no discomfort, no punishment. You'll be free of this trial. You'll remain employed and your skills will be used, but you will not be elevated to Queen's Ring. You must choose what's most important to you."
The 2 figures had stopped beside them. One was a Minotaur, standing a full 2 feet taller than Rose. His dark brown fur seemed coarse and rough as his lustful expression. He was broad shouldered, strong legs terminating in cloven hooves and his thick arms ended in humanoid hands. Two horns jutted out from his crown, a smug expression curled his lips into a smirk as his dark eyes roamed over her body. "I'm Taur" he said, his deep voice sending reverberations through the air. "And this is Skeer." He gestured to his right to the Cucuy, a human-lizard hybrid rare in this part of the world. Skeer was a few inches taller than Taur. His thinner body appeared lithe in comparison, though his shoulders were still more broad than a humans. He had green scales, a frill running down his back, slitted yellow eyes, and a long swishing tail.
Non-humans were commonplace on this continent. Rose had trained alongside several. In fact, her favorite teacher of etiquette, Loretta, was a sphinx. Seeing these 2 wasn't so startling as was trying to understand the role they'd play. Then, their roles became more apparent.
They circled around Rose as Shallah stepped away, fading into the darkness of the surrounding seating. "She's got a body on her" Taur said, crassly. "She sssmells of lilac, ssweat, and sssex" hissed out Skeer, dragging a clawed finger through Rose's hair and letting the curls fall away as he continued his circling. They moved like birds of prey converging on their mark. "Think this one's a virgin?" Taur asked over Rose's head. "No, definitely not. A pretty little thing like her? She'sss fucked. But perhapssss we can be the firssst to claim her assss" he said as his large hand groped her plump, clothed cheek. She startled and had to fight back the urge to strike him. He was bigger, but she had speed and ferocity on her side. A concentrated knuckle strike on his internal carotid could...
