4 Glade121
West End, Zaichaer
Mornings hated Vanessa. She concluded this after pulling herself out of bed and down the stairs with a headache that felt like a railroad spike slamming through her temple. That this was the result of a hangover and not some mystical property of the dawn's light did little to ease her ire towards the barely risen sun.
She walked through the estate, her footsteps heavy. There was an eerie silence that filled the hallways, sound swallowed up by yet unknown events. Even during these early hours there were often guards making as much small talk as they could get away with, and a plethora of noise from the kitchen. Vanessa did not know why it was so unconventionally quiet, but her headache was glad for it.
She exited through the front doors, and there at least she spotted the guards standing sentinel at the top of the steps. They looked uncomfortable, tired eyes still managing to look wary all the same. They fidgeted too, and they shifted their weight from foot to foot while their fingers rested uneasily on the pommels of their swords. It must have been near to the end of their shift, Vanessa guessed. She couldn't blame them, night's watch aboard her ship had almost always been handed down as a reprimand.
Vanessa made her way through the quiet morning streets of West End, finally arriving at a gymnasium. It wasn't large, and most of the weights were merely sand in different sized bags or polished stone, but that suited her needs.
She removed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. She even spared a moment to properly wrap her knuckles before she squared herself up with one of the suspended punching bags. Vanessa had often neglected hand-to-hand combat, instead favoring the sword and pistol. Such tools still had their place, but her job did regretfully call for solutions that were less than lethal.
The bag was heavy, the sand settled and hard when she first punched into it. A shock of pain jolted up her wrist and to her elbow. Vanessa sucked air through her teeth, but pressed on. She started with a simple combination of blows. A right jab, a left hook and then concluding with a shot to the liver.
Her stance was effective, but her punches were too well telegraphed. Each one could easily be seen coming by the way she shifted her hips or pulled back her shoulder. It was not professional work, but she struck hard and that counted for much in actual scraps.
She continued striking the bag, and it swung away from her now with each blow. Vanessa moved with it, stepping into the open space and checking the bag with her shoulder before quickly drawing herself back to avoid being struck when the pendulum reversed. She circled around her target, bouncing on her heels and staying mobile and keeping distance until she was ready to strike.
It was exhausting work, far more than she remembered. It wasn't long before she was slick with sweat, and she found it difficult to maintain a proper guard. There was a tiredness slowly seeping into her limbs, but it was one she ignored. Her guard slipped lower, no longer protecting her face consistently and instead resting at chest level. But even despite her obvious lack of proper training, each strike was delivered with dizzying power.
She crashed into the bag with a punishing elbow, and felt a blooming burst of pain as the skin split against the rough burlap fabric. Blood bloomed across the punching bag, and fresh pain registered in her mind when the salt from her sweat ran into the new wound. She recoiled from the bad and inspected her elbow. The streaks of blood and the heavy droplets now dripping to the floor made it look far worse than it was, and Vanessa dabbed it clean with more of the linen she'd brought to wrap her knuckles.
She stepped away from the bag then, not wanting to further smear it in blood for the next person that might use it. As she turned, she spotted someone had been watching her. A jolt of adrenaline rushed through Vanessa in the second noticing the observer and recognizing them. It was Aria, an old ally of hers from her prior life.
The older woman was short and lean, and wore well fitting clothes that gave her away as distinctly average in terms of social standing, lacking either the finery of nobility nor the stains of the gutter runners in the Knob.
“What's the matter, causing a bar fight not enough training for you anymore?” the silver haired older woman said, grinning.
“Too early to drink.” Vanessa flatly replied.
“I'm not sure that's ever stopped you before.” Aria put in. “But I guess it makes sense why you'd keep your head down, considering.”
Vanessa cocked her head. “Considering what exactly?”
Aria barked a laugh. “Well, the trail of noble corpses a mile long!” She griped. “Heard they gutted the kids too, severed the bloodlines n' all that.” Aria added. “Guess if you ain't heard of it, then your little lad's been spared.”
The world seemed to collapse around Vanessa as realization took hold. The silence of the estate, the uncomfortable guards, the dismally quiet West End. House Michaelis had been spared the first purge, but who could say how many more were to come, or if the first had even ended. Vanessa looked towards the door, and Aria held up her hand. “Relax, Nessa.” She urged. “If that family was in danger right now, you would have been posted sentry outside that kid's door for the past week. You rushin' back would just look suspicious.”
She was right, but that didn't quell the thundering of Vanessa's heart. “Fuck.” She said, throat suddenly feeling tight.
“It'll be fine, lass.” Aria said, hoping to ward off Vanessa's rising rage. “You came here to train, so let's train. No sense doing anything unexpected.”
More training was the last thing Vanessa wanted, she should be sprinting full tilt back to the estate and shaking Anton awake, and gunning down anyone that tried to get between her and her charge.
Yet after the initial flurry of incensed panic subsided and the rush of adrenaline faded back to normalcy, Vanessa surprisingly found herself agreeing with Aria. The city's eyes would be upon all the remaining bluebloods as well as anyone under their employ, searching for any hint of disloyalty. Any unease she showed now could be used as an excuse to pay particular attention to House Michaelis. She would need to convene with Anton to discuss the plan moving forward, but for now had to assume discretion was of paramount importance.
And, far more importantly, Vanessa had gotten bored of beating a bag that couldn't fight back. Thus the bodyguard did stand and square herself up with Aria.
“You been tracking me too?” Vanessa finally asked, her voice a barely restrained tempest.
Aria snorted derisively. “Don't go acting like you're a hard woman to find. After I heard about the purge, I figured I'd check if you still had a job.” Aria replied while settling into a fighting stance as well. She was shorter than Vanessa, and her senior by nearly two decades, but was a more than capable instructor in all things martial.
“Didn't think to warn me?” Vanessa snapped, beginning the bout with a quick jab that was easily sidestepped by Aria.
“Wasn't exactly the first thing I had on my mind, no.” Aria quipped back, then stepped into Vanessa to bring them hip-to-hip. The older woman snatched Vanessa's collar with both hands, and with a quick twist. threw Vanessa down to the ground. Vanessa was wizened to this opening, and rolled with the momentum and managed to rise back to her feet without giving Aria a clean opening.
Charging back at Aria, Vanessa pulled back her fist. Seeing her chance, Aria popped the taller woman in the nose with a lightning quick jab that should have caused Vanessa to recoil. To Aria's surprise, her opponent did not so much as flinch even when blood sprayed from her nostril, and instead followed through with the hook into Aria's jaw.
Aria's vision shocked white and she stumbled back. She kept her footing, but it took her a moment for her senses to return. She was fortunate then that Vanessa's blows came slowly, and Aria was able to duck under Vanessa's arm when she came forward for another strike. Aria slammed her elbow into Vanessa's ribs as a parting shot. Vanessa grunted, but otherwise didn't acknowledge the blow.
They traded blows for some time, striking hard yet still pulling their punches. As the clashes dragged on, they punished one another for their lowering guards until it was little more than the two of them taking turns slugging one another. It was impossible to say who won, as both had new bruises by the time they were finished.
Once the brawl had concluded Vanessa threw her jacket over her shoulders. She leaned against the nearest wall to catch her breath, chest heaving.
“Your footwork is getting better” Aria noted, taking a swig of water while Vanessa gulped instead from her flask. Vanessa merely grunted in acknowledgment. The older woman regarded Vanessa's coat, paying special attention to the patch. “Well salt and storms, he's really gotten through to you, eh?”
“He ain't got no one else.” Vanessa said brusquely. Aria opened her mouth to quip something back, but Vanessa's hard eyes made her think better of it.
The two said their goodbyes and then Vanessa was back on the street. There were a few more people dotting the sidewalks now, but now each one of them seemed a pair of the government's eyes. It was astounding how difficult acting natural became when you thought you were being watched. It reminded her of the unease she felt as a new captain whenever she spotted ships on the horizon. Too far to discern their intents, but near enough that her mind couldn't help but lurch to conclusions.
Even the bath she'd been so eager for did little now to calm her nerves. While the warm water sapped away her soreness, the silence of the morning left Vanessa's mind to wander. She found herself concerned not only for Anton, but for Franz, Karl, Amelia and even that harpy Maria. There had always been danger to protecting Anton, she had never been able to convince herself otherwise of that at least, but it had until now felt leagues away.
Pulling herself out of the tub and getting dressed, Vanessa then decided to make a second stop this morning. She was going to reclaim her long-dormant vessel, and one of the last anchors to a life she had never truly been able to abandon.