1 Chapter 1 - capture

Emy was in the last four-sided room in her falling house when she heard them, the stomping of men and the clanging of armor. It wasn't a surprising sound at first, soldiers came through her village on the hourly, fighting some already lost war she didn't care about. She had been forced to a house far enough from the streets that it was overlooked by most in the area. So as the sounds of soldiers got louder and then even louder, she became concerned enough to walk through the decaying boards of the house towards the clattering. If she had been any closer she later thought her story would have ended right there, trampled by the 4 men apparently not recognizing the scrambled together pieces of wood as a door. They stormed in and tossed debris in the air holding the blue and purple colors of her nations flag. She glared up at them, their faces covered by a patched and ragged leather helmet which had become more signature of her dying home than their flag at this point. "The broke battalion" they were called by the laughing other kingdoms, too entertained by the apparent comedy to ever fully squash their small claim to the world. The soldiers approached, grunting in some surprise

"that Wayne?"

"no, can't be right"

"the bracelet, it's her", Emy frowned at the bits of caught conversation. She wore the dark blue stones on her wrist every day so it would work as an identifier but who was watching her for it?

"You've been called.. uh.. ms. wayne", the man stuttered over the words, emphasizing the "Ms", apparently just as surprised that their army had gotten so desperate as to call a women. She scoffed, the world had been too harsh to her for any reaction of fear to show.

"Have all your men died already," her gaze wandered across the few men in front of her, lingering on the shambled armor and pointless swords and smiled sardonically. Mocking the fully grown armed men who had just splintered her door (granted, half broken before) was perhaps not the most diplomatic move but she was not in the mood for hospitality. The man who had spoken practically hunched with embarrassment and her grin widened before another man from the back pushed passed him, eyes cold. His stature was sure and even in tattered armor he look different than the others.

"No I believe the new commander specifically requested you. Though not for fighting I imagine," it was their turn to look over her and Emy's cheeks burned with indignance. Men had learned to stay away from her a while ago, ever since she had bludgeoned her neighbor Mr. Jackery Scant with that lovely horse shoe (which still kept as a momento) . Of course since then she had practiced to become adept at weilding more than just farm tools, these bastards were in for a surprise. Her lip curled and she bared her teeth at them in an unnerving imitation of a smile.

"I am wicked with a needle, I imagine your new commander wants a new patched hat for christmas?" The men shifted and the one who had just spoken mouth hardened.

"You are coming with us" He paused and then in a monotone voice that made her skin prickle, "you have no choice."

"I am not joining in your lost cause", perhaps she moved too soon, but she struck first, darting to the side and stabbing her blade in a knee. The corresponding man howled and grabbed at her with hands she noted were twice the size of her head. She skittered past him and found herself in between two others charging at her from either side. She stood there a moment longer, waiting for them to come to close to change paths when she stepped back a pace, sticking her foot out to trip one for good measure and the men toppled ontop of each other. The tripped one was on the ground but the other was rising quickly.

In the corner of her eye, she saw one figure stood stationary and to the side, she knocked the soldier in front of her with the wood of her knife and spared a glance towards him. He was looking at her. His black eyes glittering with curiosity, not fear or even surprise. Unnerved, she tripped in a broken floor board and looked up to see the soldier up again barreling down on her, sword in hand apparently forgetting capture in favor of trying to kill her! She lifted her knife with a hand, knowing it would do almost nothing.

The resounding sound of metal against metal did not come with the expected pain.. or death, she looked to see another's sword intercepting the one aimed at her a few inches above her head. She knew who held it but still looked in surprise at the once spectators turned... hero? With the bought time she yanked her leg out the floor and made a dash for the door. The freedom of the door so near she reached out to clear the last wooden scraps. Then came a sensation of world tilting weightlessness as a hand wrapped around the side of her waist and yanked her back and to the side, face first against the wall. She yelped in surprise as hands moved from her waist to her arms, pinning them there.

"You thought I was trying to help you?" A soft chuckle blew against her ear, "I am not your savior little girl, you will learn that soon enough".