The Foreign Empress

Alleyway Encounter

"Sorry sir, do you think you could just let me past?" The man contemplates for a moment, his eyes rolling upward to look at the heavens. Maybe I can slip past him? I throw a quick jab at the man's throat, aiming to incapacitate him completely. Yet fate works against me, for at that moment the man's knees buckle slightly. This is enough for my punch to hit him in the forehead rather than the throat, he stumbles back, but it's not enough for me to dash past him.

The pain seems to have dispelled his drunken stupor as well. Just my luck. He reaches into his robe and pulls a shiv. Of course. This day is just getting better and better. Seeing clearly now, he licks his lips lasciviously, "Hey lil' lady, maybe if you let me have some fun with you, I'll let you go with just a few cuts." He steps closer, eyes now grotesquely wide and obsessed. I try to enter a fighting stance, but my voluminous robes get in the way, restricting my movement. 

He lunges.

I avoid his initial attack by jumping to the side. With his body still under the influence of alcohol, he runs right into the wall of a house. Unfortunately for me, this only makes him more pissed. Screaming incoherently with rage, he dashes toward, knife out in front of him. I move to jump back only to find that I'm up against a wall. Is this the end? I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable pain. Something warm splashes on my face. Blood.

Yet I feel no pain, no searing agony, no violent stab. Some of the blood drips down over my shut eyes. Wiping it away, I crack my eyes open. The drunkard is still there. He's frozen mid-lunge; a jian is cleanly stuck horizontally through his throat, making for a grotesque statue. Blood pulses out of the wound on both sides as his heart beats its last. And suddenly, finally, his body goes completely limp, the last vestiges of his strength now gone. Turning my head, I look at my savior. A pair of city guards, with their crimson sashes, stand at the entrance to the slums. They aren't particularly easy to look at, one has a face scarred by acne while the other is as wiry as a stick, but they have an honest air about them.

The guards sheathe their jian and bow slightly towards me. "Young miss, are you unharmed?" Still in shock somewhat, I'm only able to nod in reply. The guards, rather than looking relieved, exchange a look. The other guard, the thin fellow, asks, "Well young miss, we saved your life. Don't you think we deserve some award?" A greedy grin dominates his face as he takes a step closer. At first, I'm shocked. These men are city guards, their duty is to keep people safe, why are they asking for an award? Suddenly it dawns on me. The reason why slums like the one I'm in exist, is because the guards allow it. They aren't being dutiful; they're just trying to take advantage of people. Overwhelmed, I put out a hand to try and ask for them to wait a bit. Instinctively, I tell them to hold on in Latin as well. The combination of these two actions results in an effect completely opposite of what I had hoped.

A look of indignation flashes across their eyes as they think I'm trying to avoid giving them anything. Greed tears down their moral boundaries in but a second. The change in their eyes is unmissable. And in an instant, there are no longer men in front of me but wolves, hungry wolves.