Goldfyre: Chapter 2

Mhyrra had not been lying when declaring she was merely an occasional dabbler in the realm of the theatric. It would, however, be a genuinely colossal falsehood for her to deny her rather developed flair for the dramatic had her reveling in the emotional torque she was affecting in this impromptu collection of common folk critics, a visceral satisfaction at being capable of spell-binding an audience without having to resort to not-so-impotent threats and clenched fists. No, mind and soul, broad and strong, were a persons’ truest weapons and strongest tools.

Still, she had a duty she swiftly needed to get on with, so her internal posturing would have to wait.

Like any good would-be-thespian, her timing found itself impeccable, as it seems the spell she had cast upon the crowd had chosen this moment to shatter. Surprisingly enough though, the shouting did not resume. In fact, as in some fit of divine comedy, the first thing Mhyrra’s ears caught was the small voice of a young girl asking “Mummy, mummy! Who’s the pretty lady?”

She turned to the sound, spotting the child in question, a mousy little thing with honey hair, tugging on her mother’s dress and pointing at her with all the unabashed inquisition a youngling could display, all the while looking up into said woman’s suddenly fearful face, who tried to shush her.

“You must know it’s rather poor manners to point at someone, little one.” She touted good-naturedly, wagging a finger playfully at her.

Both the pair’s faces snapped to her, the mother trying to pull her daughter back, who for her part dropped her hand, her face turning shy and sheepish, and her cheeks a cute rose.

“Mother tells me that all the time. I’m very sorry m’lady.” Then she curtsied of all things, bless her heart!

This day seemed engineered by some otherworldly power to make it impossible for her to frown, the smile she had been sporting since the sun’s rise reinvigorated with every passing moment by some soulful slice-of-life shenanigan such as this.

“Tis’ quite alright, sweetling.” She reassured, beginning to approach her. Truth came from the mouths of children after all, and one with such good manners, if a little lapsing, would surely be as good of a starting point as any.

Before she had taken more than a step however, grey, oak, green and sable barred her way once more, a stormy, smoldering mask their façade, and now her ears received warning that the guards had reached for the nearest weapon on their person.

Perhaps I spoke too soon. She sighed, even as her lips curled into grimacing proof.

“I’ll say once more only.” Wendell’s tone, hard and harsh, promised with venom. “What. Do you. Want here?”

Mhyrra took a moment to gather stock of her circumstance. Confusion, shock, apprehension. Fear. Masks for some, truthful terror for others, but the crowd was a sea of uncertainty, steel rustling and iron clanking as the guards tensed themselves forward, while the unarmed majority huddled together in a weave of cloth and nerves.

Then her sight returned to the little girl. Her mother had thrown herself in front of her daughter, clutching her tightly and bracing her head against her shoulder in an admirable, if somewhat disproportionate, display of maternal instinct. But the girl tried as she could to pull herself up and out. And in her brief moments of success, Mhyrra saw no fear in her bright brown eyes. Merely a simple desire to see, to make sense, to comprehend what was suddenly happening as the world whirled around her.

Stay calm. She projected, to both herself and the little soul, somehow certain she would, before turning her thoughts inward. No reason to start unravelling things just yet. I really must do something about this incapacity of mine to avoid grandstanding.

“And a straight answer, if you please, else the straight edge of a blade shall be your final example.” The crowd gasped, some fearful of the seemingly fast-approaching violence, other stunned at such a belligerent response from their leader.

At that, Mhyrra narrowed her eyes, clenching her right fist at her side, her admittedly-fickle patience run bare.

The time for games is over.

“What do I want? Tis’ hardly the crux of the matter, sir. After all, pitied be those who live in a town run by the likes of a man so blinded to the needs of his people.”

His expression turned infuriated. “How dare-”

“Shut UP!”

A tigress’ roar to Wendell’s leonine countenance, her temper’s peak upheld its unsuspected habit of clearing the air, sound and tension alike, the guards’ stances slackening in stupor, the girl gawking in rapt attention as her mother’s struggles against her ceased, the rest following suit. No doubt not wishing to draw Mhyrra’s now predatory gaze, her shamrock orbs smoldering, her target noticeably reeling back.

“One of your town’s inhabitants awakens to powers he or she does not comprehend and cannot control, resulting in the destruction of an integral part of your town’s infrastructure, and you can only thank the Father-Fire that was the extent of the damage and that none of your people were slain or wounded, for mark my words, I have witnessed previous instances whose luck was far worse than yours.

And I know this, you ash-brained buffoon, because of the common-knowledge properties of the structure’s wood. Smoke-wood burns very slowly, giving off clouds upon clouds of dark, heavy, distinct-smelling fumes. What therefore makes it so very ideal to build structures, is indeed that, in the event of such a mundane accident the like of which you idiotically claim, it retards the flames and gives a multi-sensory warning to GET SOME DAMN HELP AND PUT OUT THE BLOODY FIRE!”

She heaved in a tremendous breath with practiced ease, rekindling her pace without missing a beat. “So not only is it impossible for a blaze of such potency to have grown with such speed as to be too quick to snuff out preemptively, the sheer fact you let it burn to the ground only proves to me that you’re trying to conceal something. More likely than not, the how and who!

Then, when someone who clearly knows more than they should, unless they genuinely were someone who knows LEAGUES more about the matter at hand than you EVER will, arrives and offers to help you, AFTER demonstrating that they are hardly the inane simpleton you are clearly used to dealing with or anything even resembling a blood-thirsty killer, your chief reaction is to impotently threaten her with bodily harm.

Now admittedly, I am fully willing to recognize that the manner in which I myself went about this issue was, and to some degree still is, less than stellar. But the empiric fact of the matter is, you opened the actual hostilities with complete and UTTER disregard for the safety of YOUR people! Here we are, a person offering help, in no way looking for conflict of any sort, you do not know anything of who I am or what I can do, and yet you consider brow-beating me of greater importance than what could happen to you, your men, and most unforgivably, the people under your responsibility!”

She leaned back infinitesimally, raising her fist before Wendell’s face and uncurling three fingers.

“So let us recapitulate, shall we? You attempt to cover up a serious problem occurring in your town, endangering your people whilst, incidentally, preventing the afflicted individual, one of your people, from what I must imagine, from receiving proper aid.” She curled her ring-finger once more. “You act like an over-pompous bull, wrestling with me every inch of the way rather than listen.” Her middle-finger. “And finally you threaten to kill me, or rather, send your men to their deaths trying to kill me, equally unconcerned for the lives of your people who may get trapped in the way.” Her hand is a fist once more, but she doesn’t lower it. She leans to the side towards the audience.

“My heart goes out to you fair folk.”

Mutterings among the crowd. The guards look uncertain, fidgeting, some even removing their hand from their blades and lowering their crossbows. Fear rightfully gave way to rationality, no doubt aided by it becoming clearer by the moment that whatever else she was, she was far from bent on causing them harm, before laying the hearth for the embers of doubt and indignation.

Her smirk returned as she brought Wendell back into her sights, though quite a bit more vicious.

“So by all means, verify if there are still men and women present here willing to throw their lives away for your pride. Or even try your luck yourself if it strikes your fancy. But simply ask yourself this, Sir Wen-dull: Is trying to kill one stranger, rather than just listen to her for a spell, worth the lives of my townsfolk, or even my own? Because whatever your answer, I feel it only fair to warn you…”

Her fist spontaneously burst into a wreath of searing fire before Wendell’s widened eyes, writhing shades of auburn, gold and amber, some hairs at the tip of his beard beginning to singe.

“…I am a much better shot than you or your archers.”

The crowd was understandably as startled as their mayor, but their awe was of the mesmerizing flames Mhyrra held within her palm like one would a simple coin, the flaring glow casting ominous shadows over the faces of the two opponents, even in the broad light of late morning.

If there was ever any doubts as to what this woman was, or what was here to do, of what she could do, they had now been incinerated with extreme prejudice.

Most obviously still hoped their mayor would not join them.

Whom for his part lingered his eyes on the flames before them, as though himself hypnotized past his terror. The smell of his roasting facial hair was quick to snap him out of it, hopping backwards unflatteringly to flee her wrathful handheld pyre. Once he was convinced he would not be turned to ashes within the next few moments, the shameful truth, the weight of Mhyrra’s tirade seemed to sink into his skull, harsh verity after brutal point. His shoulders slumped and his gaze lowered, but he took heart in the inherent truth, the visceral sincerity of his answer, and the intent behind it as he raised his voice just as he did his gaze. His people would not suffer for his rash pride. He refused to.

“What do you wish to know, Lady Mhyrra?”

The flames vanished in thin air, her fist dropped and loosened, her gaze cooled and her simple smile returned.

“A man willing to swallow his pride for the sake of those he cares for, admit his mistakes and seek to repair them. I knew there was a reason I liked you!”