Chapter 12

As the white liquid entered my mouth, I paused before swallowing to take in the taste, my palms sweating with anxiety. If the poison absorbed through the membrane of my mouth and asophagus, I was risking death. But from what I knew of Iridian society from Farsa, these matters tended to be all or nothing. Either extreme. If you swallowed, you were the only one to blame for your death. Survival of the fittest in its most ruthless form.

The liquid had a taste which seemed off. First it was something akin to cane sugar, but. Then, it happened. 'Cotton?' I thought to myself, then it clicked. This was the one. While this meant I could not identify the wine in question, I knew it was not normal. I spit it out into the glass and gave my findings based on what I was taught. So I smiled first. "a fine white for certain, but something is off. Cotton? That is not normally a flavor you find in white wines. Cotton Candy perhaps, but not cotton as is used for casual wear." Farsa smiles at my conclusions, I continue "that said, the after-taste being the culprit flavor is a devious touch."

Farsa smiled with the pride of a mother seeing her daughter take the first steps of her life. "You are absolutely correct, that Wilson vintage was spiked with a nerotoxin which upon ingestion, would have killed you even in a small amount. You have passed the first trial."

I relaxed again, but I did not let my guard down. I had more ahead of me. We walked to the next trial. My boots clicking on the stone tile floors as we went to the start of the next trial. "Your next trial is a trial of combat. You must be ready to defend yourself from opponents who use dirty tricks to dispatch their opponents. I know you are a skilled fighter, but you are used to head-on confrontations."

With those last words, she smiled. Something was off. And I turned around just in time to spot a dagger in the hands of one of Farsa's most skilled assassins - my teacher for some of the martial techniques segments of my training. I grabbed the woman's wrist with the dagger in it, and used the top of my boot hooked behind her ankle as leverage, as I pushed, my foot pulled. My assailant ended up crashing down onto the stone tile on her back.

I kept a hold of her wrist, and tightened my grip. I know I am stronger than any Iridian is because i am a chimera. Until this moment, I had held back full contact for fear of killing anyone. But now, there was no holding back. She struggled, putting a hand onto my face to try and block my line of sight, but it was too late, with a jerk of her wrist, and the crackle of her bones - the dagger loosened from her grip, I threw her hand towards my off-hand and my off-hand took hold of the blade.

Farsa applauded quietly as the sharp edge of the dagger was now against my opponents throat, and their hands raised above her head. "Well done." she said and smiled at me from under the hood. It was Aersil. One of Farsa's assassins and a member of the Red Sisters - headed by the matron of house Vanrea, who maintained close ties with house Reghyn, Farsa's people. She held out a hand as I got off of her after the yield. "Help me up?" I took her hand and helped her to her feet "you are quite strong for a human. Ouch!" she rubbed her wrist a bit. "It was a pleasure to train with you, I also learned a lot." she smiled, then turned to walk away "I will vouch for you if you ever wish to visit house Vanrea, miss Kara" with that she turned the corner and disappeared.

Farsa was smirking at me "very good, next trial." we walked through the gardens for a ways, coming to a stop near a building. "Your next trial, navigate a dinner-party." I nod and enter, while i am not in formal attire, everyone around me is. I know they are actors, but I resolve to treat it as a real dinner function for an Iridian noble house. I sit in a seat at the end of the table, and smile when offered the wine of the evening.

A bit further into the function, Farsa enters and sits on the far end from myself, I stand with everyone else to welcome her as the hostess before re-seating myself with everyone else. I converse with the other partygoers at the table about topics such as galactic events, foreign politics (like that with Humanity, primary the Commonwealth) which proves useful to get me caught up on what I missed in the 13 months I had been in cryostasis, floating in the vacuum of space on a derelict shuttle. As well as recent politics in Iridian society.

"It is surely a mess back in the high-matron's residence, you see how she conducts her affairs in the court of nobles!" a partygoer says. I smile at her and nod, wordlessly. She continues, her husband seated next to her, a Human male. Good looking, well-mannered, but I spot something off about him.

He holds his fork in his left hand while eating and I spot callouses on his hands. Indicating he holds a blade or some other form of weapon often… practice? Bladed weapons were obsolete in combat by the end of the 19th century in human history, but Iridian society uses bladed weapons as weapons of assassination. The Red Sisterhood is a prime example of this societal custom and norm.

I sip my glass of wine slowly, then set the stemmed glass down on the table. Listening to the woman babble on about how the High-matron is unfit for the position. I half-lid my eyes, and think to myself, tuning her out slightly. So far this has been easy. Has Farsa's teachings really made navigating social events this much easier? I may never know for certain, but it seems listening to this woman has certainly paid off, as she would be a potential ally in my plot to assassinate the high matron, as Farsa wants me to do in return for all she has given me.

"Are you listening to me?" the woman shoots a look at me, and I open my eyes with a smile "Of course, please, continue. You mentioned her excellency's tendency to not walk the capital's streets?" I listen to her ramble further before I finish my wine and stand up, excusing myself "excuse me, I should go freshen up." I head to the restrooms, and I note one person who stands as well. That same human from before. I smirk to myself 'it seems I have a tail.'

"Kara Nakamura, keep your hands where I can see them." he declares to me as we reach a secluded dressing room after the hallways. I smile and turn "I see they have come for me after all this time."

"Hands up, no sudden moves." they are pointing a gun at me, standard issue Mk26 Commonwealth service sidearm, caliber: 10x33 millimeter, weight: 945 grams. Hammer-fired, delay-blowback tilt-barrel/locking-breach handgun. He had the suppressor on the end. "No chance for dialog?" I smile disarmingly "let's talk."

He replies "I am afraid we are past that point." I nod and retort "I see. Good evening?" his head gives a slight nod "I am afraid so." with that, he puts his hand on the trigger and starts to squeeze the trigger…