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“Get your sword away from him, I beg you.”

A moment of weakness. The words had left her before she’d had a chance to control them. Now they hung in the air and with every second that passed, a dagger turned inside her. Worse than the farce being made of her captain, worse than her convoy being delayed. Elisia had begged. Her voice played on in her head, chiming like bells.

I beg you.

Louder.

I beg you.

Louder.

I beg you.

And again and again and again, until it was a deafening cacophony.

Royalty never begs. They command, appeal, persuade, bribe even at times cajole. They never beg. A moment of weakness.

Still, that wasn't why it felt like a blade turning inside her. An Elisia, one from the far past, had made a promise to herself. Never again would she beg. Never.

Deep within her, an icy cold blue flame flickered alight. This one was different, she'd nurtured it for years. Not one to reach out and burn everything in sight, the blue flame was controlled, blazing evenly. On command it caught within her, soon wreathing her entirely. Elisia composed herself and hardened.

Now, all eyes were on her. She’d grown long used to it, and on it’s own, her body reacted. Scampering out of her now-not-so-hidden-hiding place with about as much dignity as one can, she stood tall, her spine straightened and her neck stiff.

With a deep breath she walked, taking soft steps. Elisia lifted her head, keeping her gaze not at anyone in particular but above them all. Because she was.

“Ma’am” The soldiers saluted, forgetting the old hag and the captain.

Instantly she had become regal again, falling back into the pose that had been drilled into her. Back then she’d hated the lessons, found the whole thing pointless. Now it gave her strength. A silent reminder of her superiority. Elisia's dress fluttered behind her as she walked.

“Get back Ma'am! She’s a-” Wide-eyed, the captain urged desperately but was suddenly cut off.

“Ah-ah-ah.” The figure tisked, driving the sharp edge deeper into the neck, drawing a drop of blood that ran down his exposed neck. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the show would we?” Then she turned to Elisia as she approached.

“The Duchess of Beescha.” Said the old lady, punching every word. She curtsied, bending her head low and showcasing her covered hump. Elisia’s lip curled in disgust, commoners were always riddled with a deformity or another. “The pleasure is all mine, your highness.”

"Your grace." Elisia corrected through grit teeth. Without warning, there was a thundering of feet from the caravans. A dozen or so more soldiers poured into the path. They were different from any other, these were veterans, armed to the teeth with pikes or bows and encased in armour that overlapped seamlessly and chimed with their every step. Most striking of all, was their helms, that had been detailed to look like the head of a snarling bear. They were her personal guard, she’d given them the slip earlier to come here unannounced. Looks like they’d found out. 'What a shame.' Elisia thought sarcastically.

“Protect the Duchess.” One of them cried out, two diverted to her side soundlessly.

“Surround the attacker.” Barked another. And so they did. In unison they formed a ring around the hunchback. Bowstrings creaked as they notched and took aim, pikes shimmered as they poised at the cloak.

All the while the two soldiers from early simply stared dumbly.

With a hint of desperation, the figure hissed, looking this way and that as the guard fell into place around her, always making sure of her grip on the blade, much to the squirming captain's displeasure.

Eventually her gaze settled on the approaching Elisia, who couldn’t help but smile. The tables had turned.

"Waiting on orders Ma’am” One of the faceless soldiers gruffly shouted, once the ring was firmly in place.

“I have to admit I’m curious.” Elisia announced dramatically. Sure she could have simply taken her in, but that was too easy. Without even knowing this leper, she had made Elisia feel like she was nothing. For that she would pay. Dearly.

She neared the ring of soldiers and hearing her footsteps, they made way. “What was the plan after you killed the captain? Kill the other two? And then what? Butcher everyone till you found me?”

The voice that escaped the cloak was nonchalant. One of someone who was surrounded by friends, not steel. "I had to see if the rumours were true.”

“Rumours?”

“The prize of Kings, the envy of Queens. A Duchess with a beauty that pales all others.”

“Charmed I’m sure.”

The ring snapped shut after Elisia passed, two guards still at her side. Her feet stopped and she looked down at the hunchback a cautious distance away.

The cloak was generous, cascading all the way down to the floor, covering most of the figure. The hood draped over her head in such a way that the shadow covered most of her face, leaving only a wrinkled chin. Elisia also noted the ghostly white hand holding the sword.

“So that's it? That’s why you delayed my trip? Fought my soldiers? Dragged me out here for? To look at me?”

“There was something else.”

“Let me guess.” Her words dripped with cynicism. “You need some copper coins to send you on your way? Perhaps a caravan of your own? Maybe you've always dreamed of a job in my castle?”

“No, nothing of the sort.” Her creaky voice changed into what she must have thought was honeyed. “It’s more about what I can offer you, I have a proposition.”

“A proposition?” Elisia chuckled. “You must be madder than they tell me.” Her eyes flitted to the captain on the floor. “I have a proposition for you. Either you drop the sword now and I might let you live, in chains of course, or you can try your sword against my personal guard.”

“Tempting… I have a counter, lend me your ear and if after you’ve heard what I have to say and you still aren't interested, I'll drop the sword and give myself up.” A toothy smile beamed from the depths of the hood. "Captain intact."

Hmm. On one hand I want to get rid of her and get back on the road. On the other…if she fights like last time, it may just be quicker to let her speak.

With an exasperated sigh, Elisia responded. “And what pray, is your proposition?”

“The power of a god.” Elisia merely rolled her eyes in response. Called it.

“A sword.” The hag tapped her thumb against the hilt. “The sword of Mont Chelier.”

“Mont who?”

“Chelier." She spoke low, the words shaking. "A warrior king of old. According to legend he defeated a Basilisk. While it lay dying, Mont chose to infuse its spirit and strength into the blade, giving it magical properties. Ever since, the blade has been lost and refound many times over, until eventually it found me.”

She raised a questioning brow. “And this blade is... the one you hold now?”

“The very same.”

Uproariously, the Duchess burst with shrill laughter, the soldiers joining in one by one except for the captain who still warily watched the sword at his neck.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Elisia cried out. “What? You thought you were going to tell a tall tale of some magic sword and make an easy penny out of some gullible noble? I must admit, that little show of yours against the captain had me intrigued. But this talk of a magic sword and a basilisk.” Elisia scoffed. “You’re nothing but a sordid swindler.”

“I’m no such thing.” She protested.

"Prove it then." Elisia crossed her arms. "Let's see how much magic this thing really has."

"Gladly.” The hood lifted slightly, and the crone lifted her open palm. “I'll need your hand."

"My hand?" Elisia startled. "Whatever for?"

"The magic. I need your hand."

A strange ploy. What's she up to?

After a deliberating pause, Elisia whispered into the ear of the guard to her right, and he approached the figure.

"I'm sure his will suffice."

"Maybe." The thin lips pursed in the dark, before the hood turned to the man. "Do you have an ailment?"

"Ailment?" The guard had a gruff tone. It might have just been the acoustics of the bear helmet.

"Ailment. Oh, you know. An extra toe, a missing eye, a deformed head, a gangrenous foot?"

"Uh." Came the eloquent response.

"A sore? Maybe a scar or a scab?"

"I do have a scar."

"Where?"

"On mi' face."

"Wonderful."

The two characters paused for a beat. It was the hag that broke the silence.

"Well go on, take off your helmet, let me see it."

The guard turned to Elisia. A royal guard was sworn to never show his face, to extinguish the self and live only to serve. It did wonders for morale. Mostly Elisia’s. Some looked ghastly after all.

Elisia nodded at him, he turned back and after putting away the sword two stone hands took off the bear helm. Unveiling a thick face, strong jaw and a mop of matted black hair.

"This'll do nicely. Let her have a look."

He did. A rather nasty cut had healed, from his bottom lip it curved around the cheek to his eye.

"Do you see it Duchess?"

"I do."

Without warning the hag flourished her sword, till the edge was at the man's scarred cheek. This caused the pikes to stir, ready to turn this vagabond into a pincushion on command. One never came.

The hag appeared unconcerned. The sword tip brushed against the face, tracing the scar downwards, taking it's time.

"Always a tragedy." The hag started. "When a pretty face comes undone."

The guard merely looked into the darkness of the hood, a hand hovering by his own hilt. Elisia noticed out of the corner of her eye, Derick the captain scuttling away, a trickle of blood still about his neck.

“You see, your grace.” Elisia’s eyes flinched back.

“Yes?”

“The venom of a Basilisk is a funny thing. Although all other serpents have a range of deadly poisons, each with their own horrifying set of symptoms, the Basilisk’s heals. With it entrapped in the sword, it too has the power to heal. You just have to say the word.” Then she shouted. “Reparo!”

Then…

Nothing happened. Everyone looked dumbfounded. That is except Elisia, who smiled knowingly. She had low expectations for the ‘magic’, but nothing? Common you’re meeting a Duchess for gripes sakes, put in a little effort. Would a loud noise and a bright flash have hurt?

A slow clapping.

“Seems I was right aft-”

At first she doubted it, but slowly the sword grew bluer and bluer, eventually glowing. No noise, no flash, just a weak ebb of blue. At least she threw in some colour. Then all at once, the blue vanished. The old woman's voice creaked alive with a hint of smugness.

“There you go your grace, as you’d requested. A miracle.”

Gloved fingers, the guards very own, reached up to feel his face and instantly stopped. Surely not?

“Come here then, let me see.” Elisia commanded. He did.

Elisia spent the next hour investigating his face. She prodded and felt, squeezed and touched even gently scratched. No matter what though, the scar had seemingly disappeared.

“It can’t be.” She muttered. “It’s not possible.” With a flick of the wrist, the guard moved away, absently fingering the disappeared scar. Elisia glanced at the wretched charlatan once more. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it. A grin in the black of the hood.

There must be some trick to it. Something I’m not seeing.

“Is your grace satisfied? Or does she want another demonstration?” Elisia could feel the weight of expectant eyes, all on her.

“No.” Elisia growled, stamping towards her. “I am not satisfied, there’s a thousand explanations for it.”

“Such as?”

“You could have planted him.”

“Forgive me your grace, but I didn’t choose him, you did remember?”

Ignoring that the hag had a sword to her guard only a second ago, Elisia had marched right up to her and thrust her wrist towards her.

“Your tricks won’t work so easily on me.”

Boney fingers clutched her wrist, and pushed the sleeve back. On a canvas of milky white, there was a crescent shaped mark. Deftly the tip of the blade rested on Elisias wrist, covering the crescent.

“Reparo.” She shouted again, and again the sword changed colours. Cold steel grew colder.

When the blade slithered away, the crescent was still there, but wisps ate away at its edges - till eventually - it’d vanished completely.

Impossible.

With a slender finger, Elisia rubbed where the crescent was.

It’s gone.

Believing it was magic was out of the question, right now Elisia had no other idea how she could have pulled it off. Every second that Elisia tried to decipher it, a hundred knives bore into her. She was being made a fool, in front of her own guard. The blue flame flickered.

“Give it to me.” Elisia said, gesturing to the sword.

“Do we have an accord?”

“Yes, yes whatever. Hand it over.”

With a twist, and a flourish, the blade spun so that the non-pointy part faced Elisia. She reached greedily, and slender fingers wrapped around the hilt. When they did, a powerful energy coursed through her. Dark and electric. It blazed through her veins, spread through her muscles, seeped into her bones. A light-headedness took her, but she resisted and the feeling passed.

“A word of warning.” The crone croaked.

Looking down at the sword now, it didn’t look much. It was unusually light in her hand. How funny, Elisia swore she heard it whispering, whispering to her. Sweet nothings, soft desires. It even beckoned with a curling finger.

“It will call upon you, don’t answer.” Said the cloaked figure, but it was too late for although it looked like nothing had changed, that the Duchess was still inspecting the newly-acquired sword.

Elisia had followed the whispers. With a sharp sucking sound she’d been plucked and stolen from the world entirely.