With each touch of the wet towel, the intense pain returned as if the morning whiplash had never ended. Every stroke, even the most gentle, made her body tense and her teeth grit, no matter how hard she tried to hide any sign of weakness. “This time you’ll get scars.” AhRia said. The overseer’s wife was a woman with sweet features and kind hands, who always had a smile ready for anyone who visited the shack but never one for Ivy, who seemed not to be of her liking. Even so, since Ivy arrived at the plantation, the woman had never mistreated her. On the contrary.

After getting up from bed, AhRia carefully covered the wounds with linen bandages that felt like a hot iron all over her back. “It will stink just for a few hours.” the woman said. “Your eyebrow looks much better, still do not touch it or the stitches will come off.”

It had been days, weeks since they had taken her off the ship at midnight, gagged and confused, leaving her in one of the many plantations of Tampra’s island-colonies. Ivy wasn’t entirely sure which, although it was a place surrounded by towering karst mountains, a characteristic topography of the island of Muet Siam.

AhRia scrambled to her feet, grabbing an immense belly that was almost ready for delivery, and tossed a fresh cotton shirt. “Next time, they will kill you. Mind my words.” Ivy made a small sigh and reached to make a ponytail into a mane that no longer existed. Touching her crapped hair, he gritted her teeth again. “Do you want a headscarf?” AhRia asked.

Ivy shook her head side to side, swallowing pride and rage at the same time. The soldiers needed only a look of defiance to punish her on the second day after arrival. For that, they tied her up in the pillory and cut her hair with garden shears in the worst way they could, leaving a mess of different lengths. It was a psychological punishment to show her who was in charge. That didn’t work of course. Days later, a soldier who kicked a little boy received a stone on his back that took her to the pillory once again. That time, they flogged her. Throwing stones or threatening a guard with a fruit-chopping dagger were actions that would have sentenced anyone to death, but Ivy seemed to have certain privileges; concessions that would last until whoever was holding her there found Lim. Still, the dagger was definitely too much, and this time she learned her lesson bloodily.

The door was flung open after a single loud knock. Pablo stormed inside and left a bag over his desk. The plantation overseer was a plump man who seemed to have been stocky in youth. He was a person who did not stop still for a single moment, and yet he gave off an aura of tranquility and self-control that was to be admired.

“Did she talk?” he said, giving his wife a fleeting kiss on the forehead.

“Couldn’t be more obstinate than this man! If she’s mute, she will not talk to you because you repeat it a thousand times.”

“Cario, cario! Being obstinate got me a cute young wife! Am I wrong?” said Pablo, getting a huff from AhRia. He then took a notebook from his pouch and squatted in front of Ivy. “Here, little devil. Can you write? What’s your name?”

Ivy picked up the pencil gingerly. Pablo was a charismatic man who seemed to be liked by everyone, guards and workers alike, but his position as Overseer put him closer to the first than the latter ones. He frowned at Ivy’s writing and waved his hand in front of the face. “Nor’westener here, little devil. I don’t read or speak Hanan.”

Ivy rushed to write her name with the common tongue glyphs. AhRia stepped closer and bent to check the notebook using her husband’s shoulder for support. “With all the years you’ve been around the Ring, you should. Your Hanan writing reads beautifully, by the way.”

Pablo took AhRia’s hands and walked her to a rocking chair. “You should rest, sai?” He went back to the desk and checked some papers. “And you, Ivy, should stop challenging the guards. Next time, they will kill you.”

“So I heard.” she wrote, although no one came to read it. She raised the notebook to reveal her next question. “Am I a slave now?”

“Tampra ended slavery years ago, but they mask it with indentured servitude. They give you years of work depending on your fault or debt, but in the end, they extend your sentence if they feel like it. Anyway, you are not on any of the lists, so in theory, you are not even a servant. I’ve never seen something like that!”

AhRia, who was working on tiny crochet clothes, chuckled briefly. Ivy wanted to ask her what she found funny about the situation, but she stopped her hand after a better thought. Perhaps that woman did not like her very much, but her care didn’t deserve complaints. “You still have to ask Francois to take her away soon.” AhRia said with a more severe expression. “Change the lists somehow, or she will get herself killed with such an attitude.”

Pablo clapped his hands and grinned. “Talking about Francois! Today is duel day!”

Ivy reacted to that name by hearing it a second time. “Are you talking about Francois Cedar from the Blue Kingdom?” she hurried to write.

“Aren’t you tired of that? I certainly am.” Said AhRia spitefully.

“Never! And our duels are the only thing that gets the guards on good terms with Ced and they give me a lot of leeway with them, too. They are, how would I say....”

“Essential,” AhRia said.

“Correct!” Pablo said finally fixing his eyes on the notebook Ivy was moving over her head. “That’s him! Do you know each other?” He added, his big round eyes opening even wider. Ivy nodded quickly, and Pablo stroked his long, hooked nose and the giant mustache underneath. After a long silence, he spoke again. “I’ll bring the duel here. We always do it at the docks, and the village guards complain about it. I’ve never done something like that, but they will agree for sure.”

Pablo pulled his long, wavy hair up into a ponytail at the same moment a young Muet girl appeared in the doorway, carrying towels and a large metal jug. “Oh. Peh, Good morning. Before you take care of my girls, put some water and glasses on the table outside, the one next to the window.” Peh took a quick look at the three of them, put down the towels, and gave Pablo a level curtsy. “Yes, Dom. Should I prepare some lemonade?”

Pablo gave Ria a long kiss and rubbed her belly. “No need, Peh. water will suffice. Thank you.”

“Be safe. See you later,” they whispered to each other.

When the door squeaked shut, AhRia gave Ivy a sidelong glance and tapped the same place her husband caressed moments ago. “She is a girl. I can feel it.” she said, with a clarifying tone, as if she wanted to point out that the group of ‘girls to take care of’ did not include her.

Ivy moved slowly to the foot of the bed, trying to keep still her arms and torso as much as possible. The bamboo curtain was lowered, but even so, sitting from the edge, she could see the entire square between blinds and frame. Just ahead, leaning against the wooden wall, was a small table full of vases. The village was nothing more than a circle of huts surrounding a small well. Poorly made constructions of rotten wood and stony paths. Still, it was a more welcoming place than where most of the plantation workers lived. Long houses made of bamboo where people crowded like animals, located and guarded by small groups of soldiers all around the island.

The central village, where Ivy was now, was a place for servants with specialized jobs, but since her arrival, she had only left the site once to carry water to the nearest plantation. That was right before the haircut. And after that, they realized she was not the kind they could let graze around.

At the end of the square, Pablo was talking to a stoic officer that was patting him on the arm with a joyful glare. The officer called for some of his men and pointed at the window, which made Ivy hide away with a mechanical pull. After a few steps and a loud knock at the other side of the wall, she found the courage to look again. Over the table there were two cutlass swords without point or edge. The officer and Pablo were not anywhere to be seen anymore, but more guards than usual lingered around, all excited to enjoy the upcoming show.

Ced and Pablo didn’t take long to arrive. With determined steps, Ced walked over to the table and picked up a glass of water. Pablo stretched his muscles with exaggerated movements while Ced leaned against the wall next to the window.

“That friend of yours, Em. If he’s as great a swordsman as you say, I think the guards might enjoy a good duel when he comes.” Pablo said out loud.

Her uncle was many things, but an excellent swordsman was hardly one of them. Those words were not casual chatting, were words directed at her. “You have a duel, my friend. As soon as I tell him, we will arrange a visit. May be in few weeks, I’ll tell you the details when I’m back from Tampra.” Ced said. “Until then, just stay out of trouble and keep stretching. You will need it.”

The square, usually guarded by only a couple of men, was now filled with soldiers circling the side of Pablo’s hut. “You should stretch a bit too, Mr. Francois. I bet on you and I want to keep my money for the night,” said one guard.

“I don’t need it.” Ced strutted, fully into hos dueling persona; quarrelsome, arrogant, and even more presumptuous than he normally was. “The Dom is getting older and needs to warm up thoroughly, or he may get hurt.”

“I’m no older than you. What are you talking about?”

“With that enormous stomach, no one could tell.” Ced continued, earning a laugh from the guards. “Captain Jamal should stop giving you a double ration of food.”

A tall, thin man dressed in a neat green uniform instead of the common soldier’s yellow snorted. “He gives most of his food to the other servants. I don’t know where that comes from.”

Pablo threw a blunt sword at Ced and patted his belly. “This is a curve of happiness.”

“Is that so? Well, better stop being so happy or soon you won’t be able to point the sword in front of you.”

“Ha! my sword will point at your face when I get you on the ground at my mercy!”

“From there, I’m not sure you will see me.” Ced joked, stroking his abdomen as if it was the same size as Pablo’s. The crowd applauded and laughed, enjoying the exchange of words as much as any exchange of iron.

“I think I’ll change my bet on you, Sir.” screamed a young soldier from the other side of the circle.

“Don’t be a fool, the Dom never loses!.” said another.

“What is going on here?” The square, which had become a bustle of excitement for the past minutes, suddenly fell silent. Through the gap, Ivy saw the Plantation Master, a skinny man of advanced years but with the straight, confident posture of a youngling. He was followed by a man of vile features, divided by a large scar, who, although dressed elegantly, could not hide a slum nature.

“It’s the Duel, Sir. I allowed them to do it here for once,” said captain Jamal, hesitantly.

The Plantation Master reacted with excitement. “I see! My bet is on the Dom, as usual. No offense Mr. Francois.”

Ced nodded, a charming smile loaded. “Never, Lord Narendra.”

The scar man leaned down to whisper in the ear of his Master. After a shrug from Lord Narendra, he took a step forward. “Gentlemen.” He said with a terrifying voice. “Before we delight our eyes with the defeat of Mr. Francois, I need to announce some important news. From now onward until further notice, there are going to be double watches. Except our own, no ships will anchor on our docks for the time being. Including yours, Francois.”

“Ah, J.J.… I’d guessed the stench I smelled on arrival was not from the durian fruits,” Ced said with the same mocking tone that entertained the guards previously, although no one dared to laugh this time.

“A scent that your wife would surely like, I’d say.” J.J. answered, with a smile that was the complete opposite as Ced’s charming glow.

“I doubt my wife could ever look at that hideous scar. Maybe I’d fix it with my dagger.”

J.J. opened his coat, showing two old flintlock pistols attached to a big waist sash. “You are always welcome to try my old friend.”

“With those pieces of junk and your funky eye you won’t hit me even if I’m close enough to kiss you.”

J.J.’s smile turned into a grimace of suppressed rage, both equally horrifying. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, that’s enough.” Said Lord Narendra calmly. “Let’s enjoy the duel, and after that, I’m sure Mister Francois will end his business undisturbed, like he always does.”

“I know why you came!” shouted J.J. “And that’s not gonna happen! Not while I am here. Where is the girl?”

Captain Jamal pointed to the shack and J.J. walked towards it hastily. With a gasp, Ivy rushed to the bed to pretend she was asleep, managing to lie down just as the door suddenly opened.

“Mister Jeremiah.” Said AhRia, terrified. “What can I do for you, Sir?”

“That’s the girl without a release date?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why is she not working?” J.J. continued in a threatening tone.

“Guards whipped her this morning. The Lord Master asked me to cure her. She will start the day after tomorrow.”

“She will start as soon as she awakes. What job does she have?”

“My husband assigned her to take care of the chickens. They are in the stables uphill, midway to the Lord’s house.”

“I know where the chickens are, woman.” Grouted him. “I want her from the hut to the stables, and from there, back. Nowhere else! I’ll assign a special guard for her at all times. That’s all, Aye?”

The door closed with a slam and the room fell into a silent, only broken by the sounds from the outside: Cheers of encouragement and clashing of blades.

Ivy didn’t get up for a long time. When she dared to look out again, the duel had already begun but her eyes first searched around the crowd for the man named J.J. He was at his Master’s side, angrily watching the duelists’ movements and possibly wishing that Pablo’s sword was sharp and accurate.

Ced was fast and agile. Ivy had seen him fight many times, and it had always seemed to her that no one could make him sweat. Rather, it could be said that he always played around with his opponents. But that was not the case with Pablo. The man was skilled, with precise and graceful movements that were making Ced struggle to stay on foot. Ced was moving around the fighting circle, paring and dodging the relentless attacks from Pablo’s blade, who was, strangely for a man of his complexion, moving as if the effort was nothing. Contrary, Ced was panting heavily, drops of sweat dropping from his forehead. At one point, Ced tried to stop the incessant attacks with a cut at a head height that Pablo dodged by crouching. The Dom’s sword slammed into Ced’s leg and caused him to lumber it away. With no time to react, the tip of Pablo’s sword was fingers from his face and although Ced tried to shake it off with his steel, the threat pushed him backwards, causing him to stumble.

The guards cried and clapped, while Ced, sitting on his butt, sighed to a pointy end that never left the front of his nose until he called surrender. “You should have stretched, Sir,” mocked one of the guards.

“Yes, The Dom is unbeatable!.” Lord Narendra added, walking to the road uphill, back to his mansion. J.J. didn’t follow him, and waited for Ced to get up to gloat over his defeat, rubbing his eyes and pouting like a toddler. Ced raised the handle of the sword towards him and invited the scar man to join the ring with a waving hand. Pablo cut the tension moving him away with a shoulder hug and both walked away to the docks: Pablo moving his arms as if he was still holding a sword and the latter sneaking a peak towards the hut of the overseer in a hope to see Ivy through the window. When they were almost out of sight, the two swordsmen shackled hands and Pablo returned to his house between the greetings of the guards.

Ivy returned to the bed, partly for exhaustion and partly for fear that J.J. would return. Instead, it was Pablo who opened the door carefully and, after checking through the window, he spoke. “Well. Ced and his friend Em will plan your escape. It may take some weeks to prepare, but when they do, we have ways to get all the details to me. I will help them.” He paused, waiting for his wife’s confirmation, which came with a small head shake and a grimace of resignation. “Meanwhile, Ced has asked me to teach you the true skill of fencing.”

Ivy sat up with wide eyes. Suddenly, her back didn’t hurt anymore. Em had always been reluctant to let her learn to sword fight, and to please his friend, Ced had always found excuses to never start a lesson.

“J.J. will assign a guard to check on her at all times.” complained AhRia, visibly upset that her husband was going to take such a risk.

“I will handle that.” Pablo replied. “I don’t think we’ll have much time to turn you into an expert like our mutual friend, but at least you’ll learn the basics. Footwork, correct distances, leverage exercises… How exciting!”

Ria rolled her eyes while Pablo rubbed his hands. “Resume my old teachings in secrecy. I have never done anything like that!”

“Brace yourself, little devil.” Ria said. “My husband was one of the most coveted sword Masters in Caralis and also the most demanding.”

Pablo frowned at Ivy with fiery eyes. “Some have innate talent and some practice until they excel. But no matter the type you are, to become great, there’s only one way. The road of blood, sweat, and tears. Are you willing to drop them all?”

With her heart pounding heavily and meeting his gaze with the same intensity, Ivy nodded.