4 - Disciplinary Actions

The maidservant, Thirré, led me through the temper tantrum’s door through to the porchway, which is what I decided to call the hallway-like porches that were outside the bigger buildings at the Ridge. Thirré seemed very uppity, so I assumed she was new to the line of work or, as a darker thought dawned upon me, belonged to a very cruel master. I shook the thought, stepping down the two wooden steps toward the packed sand that appeared so much to be glowing in the sunlight that my eyes hurt just looking at it. I glanced up at the wooden cart they had parked in the yard instead, filled to the breaking point with woven sacks. I wonder if one of those sacks could be from my family’s farm...

“Ouch!”

I stumbled back off the maidservant’s heel, startled and immediately apologetic after hearing her pained squeak. She was such a petite, quiet person that I didn’t even notice her there. Thirré, seeming to realize completely what happened, swiveled around and bowed frantically. “I apologize for stepping in your way, sir, I promise it won’t happen—”

“No, um, it’s okay.” I stuttered, bringing both my hands up awkwardly to stop her from apologizing for getting stepped on. “It was my fault, anyway.”

She paused and glanced up at me, then, seeing that I was staring at her, dropped her head and bowed lower. “I am in your debt, kind sir.”

“Thirré—” she flinched and I stopped, then dread started to build in my gut at the impending meaning of her reaction. “Would there happen to be any particular meaning behind your name?”

“N-no, sir.” She released a tight breath quietly.

I knew she was lying, but figured it would be rude to pursue something that could be so private, so I nodded, letting her up from her bow with an inward sigh.

Thirré then continued to lead me back to the eastern quarter of the compound, where things suddenly became more familiar and much more tense. I looked around as we passed the border from southern to eastern quarters, catching anxious glances from my cabin mates as we went. She kept leading me all the way up to one of the eastern testing fields that I’d never seen before, then she stopped again and I promptly caught my foot before I tripped on her and mentally won myself a medal. Too bad it isn’t a fan to cool me off out here instead.

“We have arrived, sir,” The maidservant turned to face me and bowed again. “Is there anything else you require assistance with?”

I looked around the scene—the sand, the wooden buildings several lengths away, the sandy dune in which we came, where I saw a small group of my colleagues shifting uneasily. “Actually,” I told Thirré, not looking away from the collection of familiar faces, “there is one thing.”

“Sir?”

“Could you tell me exactly what I’m doing here?”

She paused, lifting from her bow, then she folded her hands in front of her uncomfortably, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “This is the field where the warden delivers...” she cleared her throat, ”...punishments.”

I blinked, once, twice, then laughed nervously, hoping I misheard her. ”Punishments?”

“P-punishments, yes.”

I turned in a circle—now looking at the ground—thinking that I was going to see dried blood splatters, given how everyone was battered and weary, but no, the ground was just as dry and sandy as I saw it before, and there weren’t any whips in any of the surrounding area. I was confused.

“And, um, what are her punishments like, usually?”

“I don’t know, sir.” She responded, dipping into a graceful bow again, “No one is allowed to observe her while she’s here.” She lowered her voice, her eyes becoming focused quite strongly on the ground in front of her. “I do know, however, that the people that come out of this field don’t usually come out uninjured.”

I was taken aback. I never would have thought of her to say something so bold, but it also didn’t strike me as a lie. She didn’t seem the type to lie. A sudden chill shivered its way up my spine.

“If that is all, I must be going now, sir. May you have the best of luck, sir.” She turned and started her way back toward the small crowd that immediately dispersed when she strode through them. I watched the skirt of her black maid’s uniform flutter behind her, then she was gone and I was alone.

Not a single minute passed before there was the abrupt scratch of wood against wood. I swiveled around to see the warden in one of the doorways, her eyes searching the yard for her victim. I had never really seen her in daylight before, and I had never seen her coming. She was actually a surprisingly attractive person. She had facial features that all fell into perfect alignment with each other and with her jet black hair that fell loose down to her hips and swayed with every move she made. She was wearing loose brown harem pants, which I didn’t normally see on girls, and a gray tunic that went just over her shoulders, then cut off, showing both of her olive-toned arms, which I also didn’t usually see on girls. In her hand was a board with paper, and in her other hand was a pen.

A memory flashed of the white-coated people surrounding me with their pens and calculated threats, and my throat went dry, all admiration of the lady’s appearance dissolving along with it. Another fact hit me at that moment—that was battle attire she was wearing.

“Ah, Itoma,” the warden’s eyes found mine and suddenly her attractiveness seemed like a Venus flytrap under the hostility of her gaze. “You showed up.”

I let a thought slip, Of course I showed up. I might have died if I didn’t.

The warden stepped down the two stairs on the porchway down to the sand, then she proceeded forward until she was two lengths away from me. I met her gaze reluctantly, and a smirk crept through her features.

My mind ran wild with thoughts powered by my adrenaline, and my mouth moved on it’s own before I knew what I was doing. “You don’t have a whip.”

What the heck? Why not just ask her to slit my throat?!

But she merely laughed, laying the board and pen on the ground. Then she clasped her fingers together and plastered her hands to her feet, her back and knees unbent.

“Um... what are you doing?” I paused, confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be punishing me?”

What was that?! Why can’t I just stop running my mouth? It’s like I want to be beaten!

“This is your punishment, boy,” she explained, ignoring the rudeness and utter audacity of my question, “and I’d suggest you do the same. Unless you want to tear your muscles before training tomorrow, that is.”

“What...?” I asked, dipping down into a stretch obediently. But only out of fear.

“You weren’t really doing anything suspicious back at the bathhouse, were you?” She asked, her voice strained from the insanely complex stretch she was flawlessly accomplishing.

“N-no, ma’am.” I switched stretches, then frowned. She deflected my question.

“I see, and yet you’re here for punishment.” She stood up straight and planted her hands on her hips with a confident smirk. “Intriguing.”

“Uh...”

Suddenly, she bolted forward, bringing her hands up in fists bobbing in front of her chest. A combat position. I gasped, jumping back, but she was faster. She brought her fist up in an uppercut and caught my chin with a shocking force that I didn’t think possible for the size of her arms. She hopped back, bobbing on her heels.

I staggered back, clearly dumbfounded, and the warden threw her head back in a hearty laugh. “Itoma, you have a lot to look forward to, so don’t look so surprised! Go on, put up a good fight while you’re young!

“But—” I started, but then I instinctively took a simple combat position as she feigned another punch. “I don’t like fighting girls!”

Hearing this, something in her expression snapped to grim concentration as she went in for another hit, but I managed to duck before it came head-on. But she didn’t stop there. She then socked me in the stomach with her other hand and when I fell to my knees, she brought her leg up in preparation for a kick that reeked of agony just by the sight of it. “I give!” I yell, bringing my elbow up over my face. “Stop!”

Silence.

Why is she attacking me if she knows I’m innocent? Did I say something that may have upset her, or was she ordered to attack me?... Why is nothing happening?

I brought my elbow down and looked up at the warden, who was standing with her leg lowered and had a regal expression painting her features. “Gender doesn’t matter on the battlefield, Itoma. Neither do manners. When someone attacks you, man or woman, defend yourself.” She took a step back and crossed her arms. “Lesson number one.”

I stared at her incredulously. “Lesson?”

“You heard me. Now back on your feet, you have a lot to learn.” A flash of irritation crossed her face. “Especially that girls aren’t always dainty little angels.” She unfolded her arms and bolted forward even faster and more powerfully than before.

But she was holding back.

I laid on the sand, my chest heaving and arms aching from the past two hours of wrestling with the warden, who proved that women could fight just as well—or better—than men quite thoroughly. I groaned and rolled over on my shoulder, then grudgingly pushed myself to my feet.

The warden stood in front of me, not even fazed, with her arms folded to show me that she wasn’t finished.

“Done already? I have to say I’m disappointed.”

“I thought you said if I stretched I wouldn’t tear my muscles,” I sighed, rolling my shoulder. All formality was dropped within the first thirty minutes of hardcore dueling.

“Did you ever hear me promise that you wouldn’t get a few bruises?” A smile curved her lips. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, Itoma, haven’t you heard it?”

I groaned irritatedly, turning on my heel to leave, then I turned back around, knowing that I couldn’t completely forgo my formalities enough not to be excused. “Have I been sufficiently punished?”

“No.”

What?

“Am I going to have to keep fighting?!” Dread gave my voice an edge and the warden raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, but not until tomorrow. You are my student, Itoma, so ‘Warden’ isn’t a sufficient title. From now on, call me Master Romia.”

I sighed. Of course she’d make me call her master.

“While I am teaching you to properly defend yourself, you will abide by my rules, is that understood?”

I stood, a dying zombie just barely on my feet, as she picked up her board and pen from the porchway. “You shall call me by that title during lessons.” She furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, then nodded in agreement with herself. “Lessons, by the way, start precisely at the second bell each day.” She turned around to leave.

“Ward—er, Master Romia, what do you mean by lessons?” I asked. “Why are lessons punishment?”

“They aren’t. It’s because I believe you have come to Naihabi Ridge without the knowledge to support you.” She looked down at her pen with grim bearings. “I know you aren’t ready because I know precisely who you are,” She looked over her shoulder at me, then turned back around and started toward the building in which she came. “And precisely what you’re missing.”