I guess you learn something new every day.
He glared at Fran. “If it weren’t for you Black Cats…my tail would be…”
“Hm?”
“Damn you! Don’t look at me! You look just like her…!”
“Her?”
“Her! Kiara! The little brat who took my tail!”
“You know Kiara?”
“Damn right I do! Good riddance to that filthy little wench!”
These old men knew the Black Cat adventurer who’d set off to find the secret to Evolution fifty years ago, who we suspected was kidnapped by the Blue Cats on the previous Beast King’s orders. She must’ve had a run-in with Blue Pride. No wonder they were eager for revenge.
“Good thing the old Beast King dealt with her! She’s probably a slave in some terrible corner of the world! Good riddance! Mwa ha ha!” Senec cackled.
Fran approached him with me in her hand. Watching the old man laugh at the misery of her kind sent her over the edge. She seethed with rage.
Fran, wait!
Senec and Tord probably had information on the slave syndicate, and killing them would probably upset the Beast King.
You can’t kill them!
“Hrmph…”
You can do whatever else you want, but don’t kill them!
Fine.
Fran stopped, although her rage was far from quelled. I had no intention of preventing her from letting it out. She got down to Senec’s level and struck him across the face. The Beast King allowed it, knowing that—painful as it was—she was pulling her punches.
“Aaargh! Aiee! Gaaah!”
“Heal.”
“What? Aaaargh! Ack!”
“Heal.”
“Aieee! P-please, no mo—hurk!”
Senec had no escape. He could only howl for mercy. Fran healed him whenever he started to faint, denying him the pleasure of unconsciousness. She beat him—I counted thirty punches, at least—until Senec’s tears and stomach acid finally moved her to stop.
She worked on Tord next. He immediately pleaded for forgiveness, but it was too late for apologies—fifty years too late.
“Hmph.”
“Aaargh! Oorf! Hurk!”
“Heal.”
Another thirty or so punches later, Fran stopped. Zehmet could only watch as his elders got their just desserts. As deserving as they were of the beatdown, the brutal sight still evoked Zehmet’s pity. When she finally stopped, he sighed in relief.
“Heal.”
“Huh?”
Only problem was, Fran wasn’t done yet.
“Your turn again.”
Fran healed Senec and resumed her punishment. She probably needed a few more laps to calm down.
Zehmet shouted in protest. “W-wait! There’s no need to… Well…I guess after all they’ve done…”
He backed down, remembering their crimes. He might still have tried to stop her if there was plausible deniability, but the accused had admitted quite loudly that they were to blame for Kiara’s disappearance, not to mention the slavery. He knew that Fran was completely justified.
However, someone else stopped her—someone we didn’t expect.
“Calm down, kid. I know you can heal him, but I can’t risk breaking his mind. We still got questions for them both,” said the Beast King.
Unable to ignore him, Fran stopped. Rigdith bent over Senec and threw him a question. “So, by Kiara, do you mean Old Kiara?”
The question startled the old man. “Old…Kiara?”
“You know: amazing swordswoman, quiet, always looks like she’s chewing on a sour lemon? Uhh…how old is she again, Royce?”
“Inquiring about the master’s age is akin to suicide, Lord Rig.”
“Godo?”
“I hear she turned sixty some years ago,” Gaudartha answered. “She’s probably in her late sixties now.”
“All right. So when did my old man kidnap your Kiara?”
“About fifty years ago,” Fran answered for Senec.
“Do you know how old she was then?”
“Fifteen, I think.” If she were still alive now, she’d be sixty-eight.
“I see… Well, that settles it. The Kiara you’re talking about is our master, Old Kiara.”
Did he just refer to Kiara as his master? Fran rushed towards the Beast King.
“What? What do you mean?” She got up in his face, all her fear gone.
“You know, I’m still royalty. You ever hear of etiquette?”
“Talk.”
“Oh fine, dammit! Just get off.”
“Hm.”
Rigdith was weaker under pressure than he looked. The Beast King scratched his cheek and explained.
When Rigdith was a young lad, he met a Black Cat slave going about her duties in the Beast King’s court. Like every other beastman, he’d looked down on her. All that changed when he turned seven, and an enemy conjurer sneaked into the palace. He’d summoned a terrible monster that killed most of the king’s warriors and soldiers. Gaudartha, a new recruit, was half-dead. Royce, then an apprentice mage, was gravely wounded. Rigdith himself was almost killed.
The attack had taken place during a war, when the king’s finest men were out on the frontlines. There was no one to stop the rampaging Tyrant Sabertooth monster, and all the ways out, even the wells, had been deviously blocked off.
“I was so scared that I thought I was seeing things.”
The Black Cat slave, whose only job was waste disposal, had disposed of the menacing monster in seconds. The Tyrant Sabertooth might have been just a cub, but it was still a C-level threat. The Black Cat had fended it off and killed it with a mop. No wonder the young Rigdith had thought he was hallucinating. Anyone would.
Rigdith was even more shocked when he learned that the woman’s sole duty was taking out the trash. With her abilities, she could easily have been a conscripted slave, purchased to serve in the army. Her talents were wasted on menial labor. How did she get so strong?
The Black Cat’s name was Kiara, and she became his first friend. Because of his status, young Rigdith had no companions, but Kiara didn’t seem to care. He decided she should teach him how to fight. Kiara was opposed to this at first, but Rigdith wore her down.
Kiara’s spartan discipline made the young Rigdith strong in body and mind. Soon, Gaudartha and Royce became Kiara’s secret disciples, as well. The young prince didn’t ask them to, but they saw what the Black Cat was capable of with their own eyes. They sheepishly asked her, and she shrugged as she accepted. What was two more pupils to teach?
That said, they had to train in secret. Kiara’s only condition was that they not tell a soul—especially among the nobility.
