( Chapter 1 ) .: Conference :.

 

         Lord Dermail sat in the grand hall anxiously. The

large door at the end squeaked open slightly and an

imposing man in elegant attire and a flowing crimson

cape approached. "Finally!" the lord roared. "What has

kept you, Count Dekim?" The caped man bowed curtly.

         "My apologies, my liege, but there are more doors in

town than one might imagine," he said as he removed a

black leather riding glove.

         "I have no time for this!" Dermail bellowed. "I have

elves, dragons, unicorns, dwarves, and gremlins

roaming my countryside and you take your time simply

putting up notices about it?" His face became red and

he struggled to regain his normal breathing patterns.

Count Dekim seemed not to take notice.

         "If you’ll pardon me, liege, you must remember to try

and not get so excited. Bad for your blood pressure

you know," Dekim said carelessly, removing his other

glove. Dermail panted.

         "Pardon granted, Count Dekim," the lord said roughly.

"But when do my hunters arrive?"

         "All in good time, my lord," Dekim said with a smirk.

"They’ll be here in the morning. Now then, you need

your rest. Ruling an entire country may start with

ridding it of vermin, but when one has the goal of

ruling more than one… well," he gave a laugh, "we

shall need to work our hunters mercilessly." Dermail

sat forward slightly.

         "I have made it quite clear to you time and again

that you are not supposed to mention my plans anywhere

but in complete secrecy," he growled in warning tones

to the Count.

         "And who is here to listen?" Dekim countered. "It

will be painfully obvious to them all in good time,

once the other five continents are yours. In fact,

most will catch on once you obtain Avlas."

         "But I cannot even obtain Avlas until I have my

army," Dermail stated gruffly. "And that will not

happen until each and every last male creature is

destroyed. Of these roaming species, it is obvious

that the women are the better warriors."

         "Ah, and what better way to be rid of male vermin

that with the aid of the enticing females of our

lovely town?" Dekim asked with a wide, fake grin.

         "In any case I have almost all of the females

captured. Without their male counterparts, these

females are useless. Especially the elves. It just

goes to show you how weak love, affection, and

devotion make one. I cannot count on these women to

fight for me until the males have been utterly and

completely destroyed. If I let them leave to fight

now, they will all return to the forests and swarm

against me. I need these hunters, and I need them

now."

         "All in good time, sir," Dekim repeated again with

another fake smile. "Now then, to bed."

 

         *~*

 

         Flowing dresses fluttered. Pairs of delicate hands

held up numerous petticoats. Determined, prettily

painted faces sat in a row. Light chatter and

occasional sweet laughter was heard while the ladies

waited. Inside, Lord Dermail was also nervously

waiting.

         "Isn’t it time to let them in yet?" he asked the

Count.

         "Yes, sir, it is now time," Dekim said evenly. "Shall

I open the doors?"

         "Yes, yes! Hurry up and get on with it! I don’t have

all day!" the lord said irritably. Dekim strode down

the hall grumbling.

         "He didn’t get enough sleep last night… Cross, that’s

what he is…" He opened the doors and marched down the

short corridor to the room where the ladies were

waiting.

         "Ladies," the Count said soothingly, with a sickening

grin. "I trust the day finds you well." Fourteen pairs

of unenthusiastic eyes stared back at him. "If you’ll

please follow me, Lord Dermail is ready to receive you

now." With a flourish and a bow he spun around,

midnight blue cape following him as he walked back

down the corridor. Six young ladies were the first to

follow him. "My liege," Dekim said as he reached the

doorway.

         "Count Dekim," a deep, imposing voice came from

within, "you may enter. Ladies, if you would please

come in." The women followed the Count into the room

and sat in the high-backed chairs that surrounded the

larger, more elegant chair in the middle where the

lord sat. ‘It might even be called a throne,’ some

thought. The lord did not move to speak, so Dekim

began.

         "Ladies, you know why you are here. There has been

constant trouble resulting from plagues of dragons,

elves, gremlins, dwarves, and the like. We need strong

women to aid us in the search for these creatures.

Eventually, we will need you to help us rid the

country of them. This is a job that is not necessarily

for the weak," he added, looking at the delicate

fingers that sat, laced, on the laps of pretty

dresses.

         "To put it quite bluntly," the lord spoke, "we need

the strongest of you that there are. To ensure that we

achieve the strongest group possible, those of you who

wish to will submit to a series of tests. If you do

not wish to undergo these tests, I wish you to exit

now and bid you adieu." Three of the fourteen left the

room with fond farewells and ‘good lucks’ to their

fellow adventure-seekers. Dermail watched with

interested eyes at who did not wish to withstand his

tests. Dekim, however, observed cautiously those who

remained. Some looked frightened, others passive, and

then there were the few who seemed to have fire in

their eyes, who seemed to be eager to accept and pass

Dermail’s trials; those would be the ones to keep, he

reasoned.

         "I thank those of you who remain for doing so," the

lord said. "I would ask you to present your names to

the Count Dekim and me, so that we may know who has

undergone these trials." The lady sitting next to the

Count rose at Dermail’s gesture. Then the next, and so

forth. Five women were presented. The next stood up,

honey hair cascading halfway down her back.

         "Relena Darlian," she stated, looking straight at the

lord. The next lady rose. Violet hair, the younger of

the sisters.

         "Hilde Schbeiker." Her sister stood up.

         "Lucretia Noin." The Count looked curious.

         "Schbeiker and Noin? Are you two not sisters?" he

asked.

         "We are," Lucretia answered. "Our mother was divorced

after I was born. She remarried and had Hilde."

         "Enough," said the lord, glaring at the Count. "Next,

please."

         "Dorothy Catalonia," said the one with immensely

long, blond-white hair.

         "Catherine Bloom," voiced the one with auburn hair in

a high bun.

         "And our last candidate," the Count said with an ugly

grin. She rose.

         "Sally Po."

         "Po? Anthony’s wife?" Dermail asked with interest.

Sally visibly shuddered.

         "Yes, sir."

         "Your husband is dead now, is he not?" the lord went

on.

"Yes, sir."

"Terrible accident… don’t make boats like they used

to…" the Count began. Sally looked horrified.

         "If you’ll please, sir," Lucretia interrupted, "I

don’t see that this has anything to do with plagues of

dragons and elves. And as the time seems to be ticking

away and you need this group established as soon as

possible, I request that we begin the trials." Sally

gave Noin an incredibly grateful look.

         "All right then." Lord Dermail rose. "Onward to the

tests. Let the trials begin!"

 

:.  *~*~*  .: