Valkyrie of Desire

49. Good Ones

Culture matters when wills are tested

It raises honor higher than pride

Respect people from all the races

Serve something more than what is inside

—Vayta Banesmith

"You look nice." Roskunn's eyes wander.

Hildr blushes. The guardsman is too young. His father perhaps, if he lacked a fulfilling wife, but this smooth-skinned man cannot slip into her heart. She brushes her palm across her gray linen work tunic and trousers. Her fingers trace the slight bulge of a steak knife tucked inside a side pocket.

"Compared to my pig sty first impression, should I take that as a compliment?"

Roskunn dings his spear against his helm. "You fill out my sister's clothes well, and their make-up makes you look even younger than them. Do you have a story for your short hair, or shall I get you a wig?" He points down the city's street. "I know a shop that sells the latest Lilethian fashion."

Hildr leans against a storefront wall. Few residents peddle business. Fewer frequent taverns and cafes. Refugees continue to pack the alleyways, and soldiers of city and crusader patrol in force. Like a bruised prostitute facing their pimp, Eeffae City is aching for abuse.

"I will not wear another blonde wig." Hildr nods towards the nearest bridge across Timberdrift River. "How sure are you that the Obsidian hasn't left the library?"

"I ... I only know his seat on the city council remains vacant."

"Fine. We will stop by the library. He has a magic mask I would love to borrow."

She passes her face on wanted posters, updated with red ink crossing out her hair. The beebos may have refused to make more, but the Pales are making the most of what remain.

Four soldiers guard this side of the bridge. Two wear tunics with Eeffae's split stump symbol as Roskunn does. The others wear the pure white of the Pale Crusade.

"The two Eeffae's men are friendly." He pats her shoulder. "My father trained them, and trusted them to know I am his son."

Hildr keeps her head bowed and stays a step behind Roskunn as they approach. She must rely on her simple costume and his easy charm.

"Excuse us." Roskunn waves the soldiers aside.

"Hold!" One of the Pales blocks the way with his spear. "Short-haired women must be questioned."

Hildr slips her hand into her pocket and grips the knife she snatched from Roskunn's mother's kitchen. The crusaders will have to die, but perhaps Roskunn can make peace with his peers.

"What?" Roskunn stands in front of Hildr. "You will not be taking my sister."

The taller of his fellow city guards grips the crusader's spear. "Better listen to Rooster. He protects his sisters."

The other Eeffae guardsman taps his sword hilt. "Yeah, easy with the locals. Save your hostility for refugees."

The crusader jerks his spear free. "You vouch for this peach then?"

Hildr releases her knife and smooths her borrowed clothes, keeping her eyes down as a shy maiden should.

"I do and fair warning," says the taller Eeffae man. "Rooster threatened to take my eye last week for saying how sexy they are. I'm sorry again, buddy." The man bows. "You know my family are Red-aligned and speak before thinking. I really meant no disrespect."