Page 19 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

The Governor’s House

M y mom used to like the phrase, “Why do one thing when you can do two?” This was a maxim I took to heart while training that day, taking on two opponents at once to keep my reflexes fresh.

The late spring air tasted crisp as I pulled each sharp breath.

Sweat stung my eyes while I parried Asher’s downward thrust before twisting to meet Ruan’s side-strike.

Steel sang to steel, the clang ringing through the clearing.

Asher, a hair taller and leaner than me, moved with deceptive grace, his brown and gold eyes glinting in challenge.

But I knew his every move: the subtle shift of weight before a feint, the flick of his wrist before a brutal strike.

Ruan, a blue-armored tempest of spite, attacked again from my left, carving past my parries.

Her movements were more unpredictable than Asher’s and more aggressive: she’d gotten far more dents and slashes on me throughout the years.

I twisted, deflecting the flat of her sword as I ducked, the dagger swooshing by my ear.

The rhythm of the fight settled in, and they knew if they didn’t down me fast, my stamina would outlast them both.

They didn’t hold back: parry, thrust, riposte.

Asher feigned left, then lunged right, aiming for my ribs.

I reacted just fast enough, stepping back and spinning until Ruan met my counterattack.

The training swords clanged as I forced her blade upward, driving her off-balance.

Asher tried to take advantage of my forward momentum, but I swung down hard to meet him, pushing him and Ruan back.

Asher recovered, a grin splitting his face.

Ruan groaned, and threw a dagger from the ground, aimed for my exposed flank. Ash had met me low, but I rolled to the side, the tip of Ruan’s training dagger whistling by my head as I took a shot at the back of Asher’s knees.

“Point!” I yelled. “Hamstring.”

Ruan came at me as Ash stepped back.

The morning dew soaked my pants as I came up, my left hand a blur as I snatched a handful of dirt, thinking to fling it into her face.

I repressed the instinct rather than blind my friend, and that was all it took for Ruan to prepare a strike I knew I couldn’t block.

“Point,” she said, sword to my chest as I pressed my unsharpened blade to her throat.

“And point.” I dug in the steel until she flinched. “Killed you right back, at least!”

She glared, ready to press in, but I ducked back with a disarming strike, sending her sword clattering to the ground.

“Now that we’re all dead, wanna go again?” I said, chest heaving.

Ruan scoffed at me, a mix of frustration and grudging respect in her eyes. She turned, hobbling toward her bag under the tree. “Insatiable bastard.”

I laughed, going for my water bottle as the three of us sat to catch our breath, the silence filling with the chirping of birds awakening the forest.

“I gotta get to work, but good fight.” Asher yawned, standing to stretch.

“Yeah, good fight. I’ll come too,” I said, accepting his hand up.

Ruan stalked away, gathering her daggers. Asher yawned again as he clipped his sword to his belt, and I wondered how late he’d stayed up tinkering with the code sequencer.

Galen strode over from his match at the far side of the clearing. From the satisfaction in his stride, I expected he’d won his match with Meragc. But he squinted at us, circumspect.

“What is it, Taam?” I said.

He wiped his brow with his hand. “The Governor’s daughter sent a message last night on her father’s letterhead, requesting that both of you call on her this afternoon.”

“Both of us?” Asher echoed my thoughts.

I expected she wanted an update on her machine.

Galen shrugged, his own brow furrowed. “Seems I’m just as confused as you two. Regardless, clean up and make a good impression.”

The afternoon sun soaked warmth into the skin of our necks as we made our way toward the governor’s mansion.

I wore a silky forest green shirt and some pants I hadn’t stained yet.

Asher, for reasons understood only to himself, donned Galen’s formal century robe.

I’d helped him tie the last fold off to get the right fit, but I still wasn’t sure I had it right.

That silver embroidery and void-black fabric also didn’t pair well with the slightly wrinkled linen pants that peeked out from underneath.

He moved with a self-conscious shuffle, the garment whispering against the cobblestone with each step.

“Does Taam know you borrowed that?” It should have been him tying it off.

Asher’s cheeks flushed as he straightened the stiff garment around his shoulders. “I asked if I could borrow a robe. He didn’t ask which one.”

“For all we know, the governor wants us to check up on the new fence.” A chuckle escaped me. The image of Asher, resplendent in Galen’s robe, kneeling in the dirt, was quite the picture.

“It’s also my first meeting with the governor. Why do one thing when you can do two?” Asher said.

“Don’t use my mom’s words against me. Besides, you think the governor is going to introduce us to the queen? You getting married on the way?”

Asher grimaced. “Just giving a governor’s summons the best respect I can, I guess. Technically, he’s nobility,” he trailed off, half stifling a yawn.

“Fine.” My playful smile faltered. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, and he was still leaning over the half-assembled code-sequencer in our shared loft late into the night.

He’d taken it out to work on only when Taam wasn’t around.

He shifted the weight of the bag on his shoulder, and I peeked in at the little machine. “You got it working?”

He stiffened. “Almost. Just a few tweaks to go.”

“What tweaks?”

He tightened his jaw and shrugged.

There it was again, that wall he’d put up whenever I tried to troubleshoot. I couldn’t understand it. I’d always pulled my weight on any other complex job, but the only part of the burden he let me shoulder here was keeping the secret from Galen.

Before I could voice my thoughts, we arrived.

The three-story governor’s mansion was the largest building in town and showed a lot of improvements since I’d last walked down this street.

Fresh whitewash shone on the stone walls, the windows accented in deep indigo and burnt orange, the colors on his Solonstrong crest. The renovation maintained the original slate roofing tiles, but replaced the broken ones with ceramic in a rainbow of colors that somehow all fit together, shimmering like scales in the midday sun.

Two guards, clad in Chaeten leather beneath indigo and orange shirts, stood flanking the grand oak doors.

I expected that was the Solonstrong crest over their heart: two swords clashing and melting into one.

A mediocre final product if you melt two alloys together—Galen told me that on my first day at the forge.

Asher straightened his posture to offer an Asri salute, his century robe swooshing.

A guard gave a curt nod and waved us past.

“It’s gorgeous here,” I muttered to Ash.

Chaeten touches were present in tech, sleek metallic accents and electric lights snaking along the walls. The glowing central display in the entrance hall illuminated the time in bold lights, the video showing a deep forest scene overlaid with music.

A young Chaeten woman greeted us, and it seemed she’d cemented her loyalty by modding her skin a little blue and her eyes a deep orange to go along with her clothes. I tried not to stare.

“Welcome. I’m the head butler, Ursinia. Jesse and Asher Eirini, I presume?” she said.

I nodded.

“Excellent. Please follow me,” she said, with a sweep of her hand.

We followed her through a wide hallway. Bright walls hung with vibrant paintings, abstract except for a map that seemed to show the first Chaeten Academies on the Nara.

The air thrummed with a comforting rumble, like the sound of the climate control system in my old primary school.

Beyond the hallway, the butler led us through double doors to a lush and broad garden, the beds freshly mulched and planted with spring flowers blooming in riotous colors on the edges of green.

Garlands and unlit lights strung from the corner of the house to the trees at the edge of the yard.

Nestled in a sunken alcove in the center of the yard was a small group of young men and women about our age, mostly Chaeten-attired, lounging around some patio furniture.

I scanned their faces and turned backs, finding Ashmira’s cascading dark hair braided over her chestnut-skinned neck.

She turned, smiled and made a beeline toward us.

“There you both are!” Ashmira’s grin radiated warm as the spring sun. Then her brows widened as she took in Asher’s century robe. Asher drew the lumpy bag from his shoulder to his chest.

“Is that…?”

Asher puffed out his chest a fraction and nodded. “It’s powering on now, but I’m not sure the software is doing what it should yet. Maybe we could take a look together?”

Ashmira’s smile widened. She gestured back toward the doorway.

Inside, she spread open double doors, and then turned into another room beyond the first to a parlor.

Plush purple carpets stretched across the polished floor, a bit out of place next to the aged stone beams of the original construction.

Wooden furniture, meticulously carved and polished to a gleam, sat tucked in the corner near the unlit fireplace.

There were so many clean pillows on top I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to sit on it until she gestured.

I sat, and she, to my surprise, nestled just beside me, motioning for Ash to take the other side. Ash shifted down on the edge of a nearby velvet chair. Ashmira’s gaze remained glued to the bag on the table.

“I can’t wait!” Her voice simmered in excitement.