A New Star Chapter 16

I walked out of the dark, finding my nose assaulted by a rather fetid stench. It appeared a functioning sewer system was still being developed for the town, though it had already been installed in our estate. I supposed that helped further narrow down roughly where we were, technological era speaking, at that point. The rich and privileged had access to indoor plumbing and several other amenities, but such things still weren't so cheap, nor thought so necessary, that most regular people would have access. 

I shook the thought off as I left the narrow road that paced the inside of the wall; I was not going to linger around, standing in someone else's shit while I thought about sewers. I moved between a row of buildings, stopping as two men rose from crates and stepped into my path. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing, but I sighed as they confronted me and spoke.

"Well, youngin', what 'ave we 'ere?" the first said in a terrible accent. I was greatly tempted to slash his throat just to not have to hear him speak anymore.

"Think we's got a fresh one, Mick," the other one chortled, approaching me to glower down at me, though not particularly far down.

"That we do, Tad, 'at we do," said the first one, who was presumably Mick. "Might want ta pay us'n the fee, young lad?"

"First, I am a lass, not a lad," I ticked points off on my fingers. "Second, I do not know what kind of toll you are collecting, but I do not care, as I am not paying. Third, if you try to even touch me, I will remove a finger from each of you. For each attempt."

The two glanced at each other, eyes widening slightly and mouths working for a moment. It was always the same with bullies; first, the surprise at the defiance, then second, the anger at the temerity of speaking back to them. And, of course, the third, attempting to attack now that they were angry. The two were obviously brawlers, and also rather obviously, not very strong. I got a sense from them of a level of power of what the dark gave me, so I assumed they were both only around D-rank. Even for two thugs, that was rather pitiful for men in their mid-twenties, assuming my estimation of their ages was roughly accurate. 

As the closer of the two, Tad, attempted to grab my shoulder, I shuffled my feet slightly while shrugging, avoiding the grab with ease. As Mick moved forward to join in to try to pin me, I shuffled my feet a second time and drew my blades, using a reverse grip combined with an old trick that let me fight in very confined spaces. Ah yes, the old battle on that near-derelict space station circling Raq IV; the damned thing was a web-work of corridors so tight that one could hardly shuffle through them, and nothing had been repaired in years. That was three solid days of stabbing and punching, with the occasional kick thrown in, though I already had to watch my strength in those days. An errant kick could have taken out more than a piece of paneling, compromising the structure around us.

Anyway, as I reminisced of what was, in some ways, a simpler time, I flicked my blades with my wrists, slicing one arm of each man. They recoiled in pain, cursing, and before they could do anything more, I executed a series of quick, snapping slashes that targeted their hands. I was still a bit unused to this new body, but skills always held true, and two pinky fingers flopped to the ground. At that point the cursing turned into rather high-pitched shrieking, both thugs waving their spurting hands around and wailing. I flicked my blades again and then set them against the thugs' throats with a quick movement, causing them both to turn very still.

"Explain this toll to me now, gentlemen," I said in a cold tone.

"L-little miss, ah, we was just playin'," Mick stammered.

"Who collects the tolls from you?" I asked. When the two looked at each other, slightly confused, I clarified, "Your boss, you dolts."

"Oh, right, the boss," Mick said. "'e runs a tavern in the slum."

"Does he actually have a name, Mick, or is he just called boss?" I asked, not very amused.

"Oh, ah, right. Boss's name is Pietr, but e'rybody calls 'em Redeye, on tha account of 'is red eyes," Mick stammered out.

"And does this tavern have a name?" I asked patiently.

"Boss calls 'er the Red Rose, but we just call her the den," Tad answered this time.

"And how does one get to the Red Rose?" I asked slowly.

"Ah, miss, we, ah, are gonna head back there now, if'n ya wants ta come," Mick answered, shuffling nervously when I stared at him with a stoic expression.

"Retrieve your fingers, gentlemen, and then lead on," I said, flicking my blades again and then sheathing them with a special flourish I had learned from an old rogue trader a few centuries ago. Well, it could have been centuries or eons, I had no idea of what the current galactic year was. Hell, I had no idea if I was in the same damned universe.

Pondering those depressing thoughts, I followed the two wannabe thugs through the streets, memorizing the layout as I went. I had slipped through the wall in a moderately poor part of town, but the buildings and streets certainly became shabbier and more unkempt as we ventured further. There were also more people on the streets, many of them looking of rather ill repute, but they didn't mess with us when they recognized Mick and Tad. It could have also been the fact the two were bleeding rather profusely and holding their own severed fingers, but such rough-and-tumble folks wouldn't be intimidated by a bit of blood and gore, or so I assumed. 

I heard the tavern before I saw it, a raucous noise managing to sneak out the heavily shuttered windows and thick door, which were closed even given the heat of the late afternoon. The place was also packed, but then again, on such a world and during such a time-period, I would expect the taverns to have at least a decent number of patrons at all times. And one that played host to a gang of ne'er-do-wells? Well, of course it was packed with the rougher sorts, even at what was about four in the afternoon. 

Mick and Tad burst into the front door, Mick wailing for someone named Megahn, likely someone with healing capabilities. I was proved right as I followed them in, watching as a short dwarven woman with a pretty face and long red hair stomped up to the two, cursing them even before she saw the wounds. The severed fingers caused even more cursing, and she started reattaching them as I watched, my first time observing a healer in action in this world. It took several minutes, though I detected her healing skill was all the way at H-grade, likely the highest level of any of her affinities. The two thugs' fingers reattached and the flesh slowly knit together, the muscles and tendons reforming as the bone healed and reattached to the socket. 

"And who're ye, lassie?" the dwarven woman asked with a glower. 

"Oh, I cut their fingers off. Fascinating work, there," I said, nodding to the woman.

"Ye what?!" Megahn exclaimed angrily. "Yer the one what made me do all that work?!"

"I did warn them," I replied calmly, shrugging at her ire. The entire place, I noticed, had gone rather quiet, and quite a few thuggish types were giving me rather dim looks.

"Quite bold of ye, lassie, ta waltz in 'ere and declare war on us," Megahn said angrily.

"Oh, I have not declared war on you," I replied in a cold tone with a stone face. "If I were to wage war upon you, you would be decimated and destroyed before you even understood your folly. This was merely a little reprimand of two fine, upstanding citizen who took a joke a bit too far."

"You think you can just talk shit in our headquarters, little boy?" one of the others snarled angrily.

"You're welcome to try me whenever you feel ready," I replied coldly. "But I will not be taking any more fingers today. I will be cutting throats next. You can offer yours first, if you so desire. Also, I am a 'little' girl, not boy, so we should clear the record on that."

"How bold. Perhaps we should see how sassy you are after we take you down a peg 'r two," one of the other thugs said, cracking her knuckles as she stood from her seat. 

The air in the place changed, charging with that electric feeling that coursed through a place just before a huge fight broke out. I stared back at the woman, slowly cracking my knuckles before cracking my neck, my deadpan expression causing her to slow down and adopt a cautious look. Well, too little, too late, as I finished limbering up and stepped forward, teleporting with the dark to appear right in front of the woman, my fist already whistling through the air. I called upon all the strength a tier six body gave me, feeling the woman's jaw crack when my knuckles made contact. Before she even started falling, I was in the dark again, appearing near another thug and hammering him in the chest before breaking his nose with an elbow and disappearing again.

I'll give them credit, they put up an admiral showing, but they were clearly not used to dealing with a teleporting foe, and I took full advantage of that. Not just that, these fools had tier one or two bodies and hadn't progressed them hardly at all, most of them being no more than B-grade. Despite my generally smaller stature and young body, it was as if I was the adult and they were children, and it became clear pretty quickly my fist was bigger. They also didn't use many affinities, as we were within their headquarters, and they likely didn't want to damage the place too much. I was put on the back foot when someone froze my left foot to the ground, but I captured their ice in a split second and made it my own, blocking two punches before crushing a man's balls with my left knee.

The brawl devolved from there, but ten minutes later had three-quarters of the thugs on the ground or draped over tables, bleeding and groaning. I had a cut on my lip and a black eye, plus a cracked bone or two, but I had just demolished the gang. Now, they hadn't really fought me seriously, not using many affinities, and also having a slight bit of conscious, at least at first, and not using their full power against a child. A dangerous and foolish mistake. If I had been serious, the whole place would be a charnel house of blood and corpses, and they would have been able to do little about it. Underestimating a foe because of a criteria like age or apparent age was a stupid and deadly mistake, one that I learned to be wary of many long years ago.

The main room of the tavern was rather large and two stories tall, and at the back, above the bar, was a balcony that a few of the rooms of the second floor let out onto. As I finished blacking both a woman's eyes, holding her by the collar and giving her a few slaps after the punches for good measure, the central door of the balcony burst open and a huge, swarthy man lacking a shirt barreled out. He stomped up to the railing and surveyed the wreckage of the first floor, though mainly it was wreckage of the human kind, his thick eyebrows lowering and a glower appearing on his meaty lips.

"What the FUCK is goin' on down there?!" he roared, causing many of the people in the room to wince and stand, or try to.

"Boss, we was, ah, just havin' a little fun," Mick tried lamely.

"A little fun. A little fun, is it?! What the ever-loving FUCK are you talking about, you stupid bastard?!" roared the man, who I was surmising was Pietr.

"Boss, see, it's like, uh, this," Mick stammered before relating the previous events in a fairly lucid, if somewhat rambling and down-played manner.

"Let me get this straight," Pietr ground out, visibly gnashing his teeth, a big vein pulsing on his left temple. "The two of you total ingrates tried to rob a little girl, fucking FAILED, and then led that little girl to our base, where she proceeded to beat EVERYONE'S asses, all by her lonesome? Did I fucking miss anything?"

"Ah, n-no, boss, that sounds good," Mick said, already wincing when he realized, a split second too late, what he had said.

"Sounds good? SOUNDS GOOD?! MICK, YOU FUCK! YOU'RE DOING THE NEXT FIVE PICKUPS IN THE WOODS! ALONE!" he bellowed.

"Ah, right boss, sure," Mick said, looking at the floor and shaking his head.

"And YOU!" Pietr roared, pointing at me.

"Don't point your fat fingers at me, you lout," I said coldly, staring at him with icy eyes.

The whole place went so quite a pin dropping would've sounded like an avalanche, and I could see a vein on Pietr's right temple join the one pulsing on the left. Everyone backed up from me, likely anticipating some form of divine retribution from the boss, but he held himself back remarkably, at least at first. Though, he did point at me again.

"You! You little shit, who the fuck do you think you are, you little BITCH?!" he roared, jabbing his finger at me.

"Do we need a repeat performance?" I asked Mick coldly, gesturing at Pietr with my eyes.

"Don't ignore me, you little bitch," Pietr screamed, jumping over the railing and falling to the floor next to Mick. He then stomped towards me, raising a hand to try to slap me, which was a mistake on several levels. Many of the thugs also seemed to realize that, as they winced or tried to warn Pietr that this wasn't going to be a winning strategy, but they were too slow. The man was also far more powerful than many of the others in the room or, at least, the ones that had bothered to brawl with me. Several of the people in the tavern had held themselves back, for one reason or another, and they also felt like the strongest in the building, apart from Pietr. 

I jumped through the dark, drawing my blades at the same time; if Pietr was that strong and wanted a fight, I wasn't going to hold back. I appeared behind him, slashing with the basic forms of the Devil's Wings, but he blocked them as he spun, his senses much better than the low-level thugs. He also had a metal affinity of some kind, as he turned the tops of his knuckles into what looked like black iron, blocking my blades with punches. I moved through the forms of the Devil's Wings, delighting in having a challenging opponent to test myself against. 

I hammered away at him, seeing his eyes widen a bit at the level of skill and strength I displayed. I moved his arms out of position by sticking to the forms, moving him a little off balance and opening up his center before I took half a step forward and spit at him. I didn't truly spit on the man, but did something far worse, using my C-grade fire affinity to shoot a concentrated stream of flames at his face just as I struck his fists. He was slow to guard, surprised by the move and out of position, and when he did block, patting out the fire in his thick goatee, I reinforced my left knee with ice before slamming it into the inside of his left knee, causing him to stagger. I stepped through the dark as he tried to regain his balance, appearing behind and beside him, chopping for his throat with both blades. 

He reacted quickly, perhaps having some kind of danger sense from one of his affinities, blocking my lethal strike with his fists. He was still mad, but now he was cautious, taking a step back and analyzing me as I prepared to strike again. I noted several of the figures in the corners, the ones who hadn't fought yet, start to get ready, loosening blades in sheathes or other such gestures. Surprisingly, though, Pietr held up a hand, stopping them from joining in. He then held a hand up to me in a gesture to stop before he spoke.

"What's yer name, kid?" he asked.

"Alex," I replied coldly, swinging my swords in a small pattern that ended with one of the blades in a reverse grip. Otherwise, I stared directly at him and didn't move.

"How old are you, kid?" he asked with a grunt.

"Four," I replied, causing the place to explode into commotion.

"Fucking quiet!" Pietr bellowed. When the room calmed, he said, "I'm fucking sorry, but it sounded like you said 'four.' I think you meant fourteen."

"No, I meant four," I replied calmly. "I am the youngest daughter of their graces, the grand duke and grand duchess. It should be rather easy to cross-reference my actual age."

"Y-y-you are w-what?" asked Mick from the side, all color gone from his face.

"Am I too quiet when I speak? Or does everyone have some problem with the language?" I asked coldly. "Did I stutter? Then let me repeat myself; I am the eighth and youngest child of the grand duke and grand duchess, Alexandra Tabitha Mirriam D'Crough."

"Mick, we have to run! We attacked one of their KIDS!" Tad shouted hysterically, trying to drag Mick out of the room. The first thug had collapsed boneless against a table and seemed like he was about to pass out.

"Your crew isn't very tough," I commented idly while watching them panic.

"ENOUGH!" Pietr screamed at them. "Both of you, go upstairs and rest. Neither of you is going anywhere."

"But, boss-!" Tad tried to argue, but Pietr cut him off.

"I swear to the Seven Old Ones, Tad, if you don't listen to me right the fuck now, I'm gonna give you so much to worry about you ain't ever gonna even remember the duke or whoever," Pietr growled, glaring at them.

"Yes, boss," Tad replied lamely, dragging Mick up the stairs and further back on the second floor. The building had four stories, so they might have gone further up, but I stopped focusing on them after they were out of sight.

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