65. Vitality (Patreon)

“Here only basic food or ingredients are served,” The maid continued talking, but she barely kept an ear on the woman’s words. “If you want prepared food, we can order the chefs. Would you like us to do so?”

“No, thank you,” The scribe of commoners replied as she slightly turned her head to look at the imperial scribe from the corner of her eyes, a shallow smug drawn in her visage. Politeness, she had said.

Damned woman. She bit on the chicken leg harder, the bone snapping under the pressure. The crack made the maid jolt by reflex, but the scribe remained impassive, unaffected. No reaction? That surprised Naila more than it should have, but the crack was loud and the commoner woman looked like the easily-scared type.

“I’ll take note of it for the future,” The minuscule woman said unfazed. “Are there beverages, though?”

“There is quite the selection of wines, venerable Scribe.” The plump maid nodded in agreement.

“Uhm... I was thinking of something a bit lighter,” Hmm... Naila reacted to the shift in the woman’s expression, it didn’t seem as unwavering now. Weak to alcohol? She theorized. “Tea or something along those lines.

“There’s coffee and dates if wine is not to your liking.” The maid maintained an unwavering and serviceable expression. Hmm... maybe. Naila thought to herself.

“That would be delightful, yes.” The scribe smiled at her and sent the servant away.

As the maid walked away, the scribe focused on the food before her and she... was paralyzed? The scribe of commoners looked at the food with confusion as if she didn’t know what food even was. It took Naila a solid half a minute to understand what was happening.

“What? You can’t decide what to eat, Ayad?” She scoffed at the woman.

“No,” The scribe affirmed politely. “No, I cannot.” Her voice was serene and calm, even if her mannerisms said otherwise. “There’s plenty of food here and I was just thinking what to eat.”

“There won’t be plenty of food if you keep stalling.” Then Naila snatched a steak that was before the commoner, and then she unceremoniously shoved it inside of her mouth.

Hmm... Juicy. After outpouring so much vitality, she had grown hungry. Ravenous. Not only she was practicing her kata and stances, but she was also preparing herself for more advanced Nurture techniques. Those required to expulse vitality, and whilst she was nowhere near ready to use them, or even knew how they worked, it was clear to Naila that she needed to practice her vitality flow. It also didn’t help that the speed stance was one that taxed the body the most.

“Ehm...” It looked like the scribe wanted to say something but ended up keeping the comment to herself. “Yes, the steak looks delightful, I think I’ll try it.” She added with a smug and reached for the plate with the beef.

That, of course, annoyed Naila. She was the one toying with her, not the other way around.

She was the sultanzade!

So she snatched the piece of meat the scribe was going to pick up. In her mind, such movement was rightful – she was the one with the higher standing after all – and not a childish move.

But she miscalculated her speed. After having done a short training session, her mind still remembered the speed of the stance, but her body couldn’t match it. So instead of stealing the food before the scribe could notice, their hands met halfway through.

Bronze met black.

“Ouch!” Ayad retrieved her hand and caressed the part that had been hit as she groaned in pain.

Normally, Naila would have laughed at her for getting hurt from that minute graze, but instead, she stayed still, confusion littering her mind. What...? She looked at her hand in pure bewilderment. The sultanzade turned aggressively to face the scribe and grabbed her shoulders, her visage collapsing into a panicked mess while she recoiled from the sudden movement. Naila didn’t let her escape her clutches.

“What are you?” Her voice was powerful and sharp, her grip far stronger than any person of her age.

“W-what do you mean?” There was no longer smugness in the scribe’s face, only fear.

Fear. That wasn’t the reaction she had expected, but it was intoxicating, nonetheless.

“What. Are. You?” The sultanzade reiterated. “Do not lie to me?”

“I d-do not un-nderstand the que-stion...” The woman hyperventilated at her aggressiveness.

Naila didn’t know if those breaths were an act, but she could recognize the feelings in her eyes.

Confusion.

Ayad had no idea what she was talking about. Naila was not an expert on reading others or human emotions in general but saw how there were no thoughts in the scribe’s head. She was paralyzed, no longer resisting her grab, as she was unable to understand why she was being attacked and interrogated.

Even her sense stance was incapable of detecting foul play. No sweet smell came from her.

She let her go, liberating her from her clutches, as she fell also in confusion. Then how... It made no sense to her. How does she have nearly as much vitality as me?

{*}

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Aloe almost shat herself. She was already scared of the sultanzade’s presence and what they could do to her, but as Naila grabbed her, she almost fainted.

She had been cursed, insulted, and degraded, but no one ever before had gotten physical with her. She nearly cried as the sultanzade’s digits clawed into her shoulders.

Aloe Ayad was not used to physical contact.

And an aggressive one was too much for her mind.

As the imperial scribe’s eyes shot daggers – which may as well have been literal ones – into hers, Aloe’s mind was left blank. She couldn’t react to such hostility.

She was always taught that diplomacy was the way to go, violence was unbeknownst to her. Her shoulders hurt and she couldn’t respond. The sultanzade herself had been overtly hostile to her before, but those had been words. And no matter how many words they threw at her, they wouldn’t be able to draw blood. Not directly.

Aloe responded automatically and unconsciously to Naila’s questions, and as the pain worsened, she was thinking of shifting her vitality to apply the ‘toughness’ internal infusion. But before she could do so, the sultanzade let her go.

Just like that.

As soon as she had grabbed her, she let her go.

Confusion was the game.

It was hard to understand what even happened as everything had happened so fast. Aloe looked at the sultanzade, trying to decipher anything at all. Their gazes met for a split second before Naila decided to look away, but in that small window, Aloe saw something.

Was that... shame?

It had been too fast, and her mind was still addled, but the sheer implication of what she felt shook her to the core. She could only guess that the shame came from grabbing her out of nowhere, but even then, sultanzade didn’t feel shame. Or at least not from people like her. Just like when Rani exposed her naked body to her when she was close to passing out from embarrassment.

Unable to tolerate Aloe’s gaze further, Naila stood up loudly as she slapped the table. The imperial scribe grabbed a blood apple from a nearby bowl and with a single bite ate half of it before removing herself from the feast hall with loud and long strides.

“Uh...” Aloe smacked her lips, unable to process what had happened in the last two minutes. Only the maid returning with her coffee broke her of her stupor.

“Here’s your beverage, venerable Scribe.” Her voice was calm, but judging by the rigid visage, she had seen their interaction.

With a quick check of the rest of the hall, it became clear that everyone had seen the spectacle. Though they did hide their gazes well. Not well enough for Aloe’s paranoia to not catch them.

Aloe thanked the maid, almost in a whisper, and focused back on her food. Only now she realized that her stomach was growling; the fear had suppressed her hunger well, but with the sultanzade’s departure it came swinging back with full force.

Her hands trembled as she tried to reach for food. She still felt Naila’s clutches on her shoulders, not the pain though. She wished it was just the pain.

No, what still reverberated in her body was the impotence.

The scribe looked at her palms. No matter how much she could hide her surprise under a mask, she couldn’t hide the fear to herself. It was clear to her.

If Naila had wanted, she could have snapped her in half like a twig.