Chapter 3 - An Auction

The world around Alessia stopped. The flow of her time was interrupted by the shock that took its time sinking in as she felt the blood gushing from her abdomen. She was stone-shelled for a moment as her eyes just stared back at the perpetrator, wide-eyed and in disbelief. It had been years since she felt real pain. She had always considered her combat skills above average, but that was only on a human-scale. Because she was quite sure the perpetrator is no human, because his eyes glinted a shade of gold and his skin shone like scales. 

Her reflexes weren't good enough against him. She wasn't good enough. 

Against dragons. 

The quiet forest was quickly stained by the throaty screams of men. Alessia tried not to be fazed by the hole in her body after she pulled out the sword, but every move made her grunt in pain. She wasn't immortal,  that much she knew, and she doesn't regenerate body parts, nor does she heal herself by absorbing the magic of the land like they do. She was just a puny human. But one that does not cower under any other being, superior or not. 

The dragons were fast, even in their human shape, but she is an assassin—she is one with the shadows.  The sword that was pierced in her was pierced multiple times into the owner's own species. And even though her men were slowly decreasing, they were also slowly winning. 

"No, Roger!" She turned to Sir Parsley who ran to one of his men that was shot by an arrow in the head. He kneeled beside him and wept. Choosing to let the Knight grieve for his men, Alessia covered them and dueled two dragons while wielding two swords. One of them was the woman in red earlier. She was gracefully attacking and blocking, as if dancing. And the other had a dark glare fixated on her, focused on her wounded abdomen. 

Her eyes couldn't switch quick enough to watch their next moves, and remembering her  training, she allowed a sly smirk to peek. Closing her eyes, she leapt and threw both swords to one direction, then pulling out the bottles of burning acid tucked in her boots and throwing those to the other direction. 

Right after she landed, she wasted no time and leapt again to another direction and did a running jump to tackle another dragon attempting to stab Sir Parsley from behind. 

Not on my watch, she thought.  

She could feel her blood all over the place and any minute now she will faint due to too much lost blood, but until she does, she wants every other dragon dead. She might've used them for her mission, but judging by their aggression, she thinks they'd rather die than help her. 

Her breathing was heavy and her vision was starting to blur, but she still had one left. Picking up a crossbow from one of our men, she willed her vision to stabilize and aimed. She had to furiously blink away the haziness and focus on her target, but she knew her consciousness was slowly slipping away. He surprisingly released the arrow first but what shocked her more was where the arrow was heading. She anticipated it'd be fired at her, but it shot the back of the kneeling Sir Parsley beside her. 

Panicking, Alessia released her arrow that pierced his chest but her eyes quickly went to the young ginger man lying dead beside her. The almost last survivor. 

Did she just lead her men to a massacre, again?

Before consciousness left her, she caught a glimpse of slight movement from her peripheral vision. But she didn't bother fearing for her life, because she had already wasted another dozen again. If she were to wake up again after this, she wouldn't be able to bear the conscience. 

--

Alessia's nostrils flared at the smell of freshly cooked beetroot. 

Frowning, she slowly fluttered her eyes open and immediately sprung from whatever surface she was lying down on to look around. She was inside a wooden cabin, with the environment seeming real. I am still alive? How come? Did somebody come and save me? Why? Her thoughts rained of question and self-hate. 

 The cabin is cozy. She was sleeping on a bamboo bed covered with a thin cloth. Beside was a window that overlooked a small village full of identical cabins. The land is covered by a thin layer of snow where the children are playing, and adults are walking around pulling wooden carts.

Alessia carefully tried standing up, only to realize that her stab wound is patched by a cloth filled with herbal leaves. Her clothes were different, too. Who would have the effort to waste time on a dying person like her? Shaking her head, she limped to the door of this cabin and roamed her eyes outside. What village is this? What part of the world is she located right now? 

Hoping to get answers, she grabbed a running child by his shoulder. "Where am I?"

He innocently looked at her and shook his head, then escaped from her grasp, running away. She frowned as her eyes followed the child. Do they not understand her? 

"The children do not learn here," spoke a baritone voice from behind. Alessia flinched and turned around with clenched fists, only to be greeted by a familiar pair of glistening emerald eyes. A lopsided grin formed on his lips as he recognized the scowl on her face. He held a knife that had remains of beetroot on it. "That's why they don't understand you. Do you remember me?"

"You're that gold-blooded thief," she remarked, earning a brow raise from him. 

"Out of all the things you could've remembered about me. Say, my undeniable attractiveness? But no," his face fell to a frown. "You had to remember my blood color and your petty assumption."

"You saved me?" Why? 

"Uh-huh, darling." He nodded. "And now you owe me. Those herbs cost me a lot." He pointed to the herbal leaves stuffed around her abdomen. 

"How much? I will just repay you," she drawled, already wandering her eyes to look for possible escape routes. This man is dangerous and she knows better than to discover what other secrets he hides. 

"It's not monetary compensation I want," he mumbled, his grin stretching wider and wider. "Did you know how many of my... comrades you just killed?"

Her brows rose. "It doesn't look to me like you have good camaraderie with them if you left them there for dead." 

Comrades? He had dragons for comrades? He must be linked to them somehow if they're his comrades. But they're dragons, the enemy of humanity. Why would he befriend such kinds? 

"Because I thought they could handle a dozen feeble humans," he spat, rolling his eyes. "But who would've thought I'd find a shinier gem on the way?"

"What?"

He didn't reply and they just remained staring at each other. Alessia's glare contradicts his smirking and suggestive stare. Until Alessia quickly dashed dangerously near him and the knife that was previously on his grip was replaced by air. It went to his throat in the blink of an eye and in between them, reeked the smell of both beetroot and danger. 

"Watch your mouth, thief." 

He remained unfazed and the smirk remained plastered on his face, but Alessia couldn't miss the slight shaking of his eyelids. With hawk eyes like her, almost nothing misses her sight. 

He leaned in and whispered, unbothered that the knife was slicing his neck. "The name's Clyde, darling." As he smoothly retrieved his knife, he also carelessly wiped the golden blood that oozed from the slice—all without breaking eye contact. 

"Care for some beetroot soup? They're my specialty." He winked.

For some unknown reason, Alessia managed to endure a meal with that spawn of a devil. Whether it's because she hasn't had a meal for an entire day or because she had just unlocked a new limit to her patience, she doesn't know. He rambled on about the most random things which all she could do is turn a deaf ear or disagree with such obscure claims. 

Earlier, he mentioned how rusty rocks can turn into jewels and be sold for insane amounts of gold nuggets instead of being stepped on by people. He mostly talked about his adoration for shiny objects and how he's picked to be a merchant out of all other professions. She didn't care, though. Most of the time, she busied herself devouring the soup that she'll never admit was quite delicious. 

"I'm selling my scraps, come with me," he told her as she cleaned her wound. 

Alessia frowned. "I don't want to. I'm leaving for my mission." 

"Fine, I will show you around so you'll know where to go when you run away. Come with me." He turned around and wore his coat. Should she go?  She's not obliged to. But she's also got to admit, he's an alright company. And she won't reach far with the severity of her wound, might as well utilize the time while she heals. She followed Clyde outside and saw his own wooden cart filled with metal scraps. There were rusty machines and other random things. So he's a merchant.

"This is an isolated village north of Caelum. Many merchants like me reside here because there's a nearby market just past the forest where the massacre happened. We were west of the forest, and the market was east. Your troop was going north," he snickered. "There is also a mining area somewhere southeast." 

"Are we going to the market?"

"Hmm." He nodded. "We'll trade better scraps out of these then sell those. I'm bringing you because pretty ladies always  lure the traders." 

She glared up at him but remained silent. The forest wasn't as deep like the first time she entered. Probably because she was with someone who knows the forest? He talked about spontaneous topics and never seemed to run out of peculiar thoughts. She would rarely reply and when she would, it'd be bland and would sound overly uninterested. Nonetheless, he would continue. 

Once they got out of the forest, they were greeted by a busy sea of  traders conversing in loud voices while situated in tents and stalls. They looked for a good location and Clyde started announcing their scraps. True to his words, the traders nearing would always announce their presence to her one way or another but would end up trading because of Clyde's convincing words. That cunning man managed to arrive here with rusty and good-for-nothing scraps and return home with shiny iron rods, silk and velvet cloths, and an abundance of valuable stones.

As they were packing up, Alessia noticed the people crowding over a small elevated ramp on one part of the market. 

What are they doing? She wondered and watched as a wagon pulled up close and revealed a girl in a metal cage. Her brows rose as her interest was piqued. 

"Can I borrow this?" She grabbed a blade from Clyde's cart. He frowned but nodded. "I'll be right back." 

She didn't turn back once as she hid the blade in her—Clyde's—cloak and stealthily neared the cage. She watched as the man on the ramp walked near the girl. 

"This my friends, is a rare nature fairy!" The crowd gasped. "For proof, let me show you her wings!" 

He hit the metal cage with his stick and the girl flinched and revealed glimmering fairy wings. Alessia's eyes squinted. Fairies are sacred beings of the forests. They are neutral and have never been included in any war in history before. 

"She's up for auction with a starting bid of two gold tons!" Alessia shook her head. She never knew there would be people willing to anger a magical race just for money. As the auction price rose and rose, Alessia only watched the fairy. Her eyes are glued to her wings—magical, ethereal, but tainted with blood. Her jaw clenched and her grip with the blade tightened. 

One thing's for sure, that fairy is not getting sold today.