Emily stared at golden and granite statues. Each one depicted a previous PRIME. The ENGINE slumbered over the city. Vibrant cherry blossom trees swayed in the wind. Afternoon sunlight cast shadows across Leonore's cobblestone streets. Business was flourishing all thanks to Prime Day. Market vendors sold high-end furniture, art, and designer outfits.
"Excuse me, chosen. Can I take a moment of your time?" A female merchant asked, waving at them to approach.
Emily followed Elijah to the merchant's stand. She looked at the intricate sewing and craftsmanship in each of the outfits hanging behind the seamstress. A soft smile stretched across her face as her eyes glanced at a dress speckled with stars. The smile faded to a thousand-yard stare.
"Th̊re̘ạ͛d͓ a̖̍ń̺d̦͒ N͎ee̺d̜leͮ."
"Chosen, what are you wearing!? You can't go around looking like that. That outfit… if I can call it that, is not befitting for someone like yourself," the merchant said, staring at Emily's tattered clothes.
Emily did not respond.
The merchant snapped her fingers at Emily.
Emily's eyes dilated.
"Oh, you talking to me? Sorry I spaced out," Emily replied, rubbing the back of her neck. "Your outfits are beautiful, but I don't have any money."
"Don't worry, I will pay," Elijah replied, flicking his cigarette to the ground and digging into his pocket for his wallet.
"Pay? Chosen do not need to pay. It would be my honor to tailor-make your outfits," the merchant replied.
"You sure?"
The merchant nodded. "To have my outfits worn by the chosen would be an advertisement for me. Also, if you become Prime," she explained, then gestured towards the statues lining the road. "My outfit that I craft for you would serve as a reference for the sculpture of your image."
"Do you have anything I don't know … less dressy?" Emily asked.
"Something like what I am wearing?" the merchant asked, showing off her high-collar bodice and dark pleated skirt.
Emily shook her head, then looked at the hoodies hanging up next to the tailor-made dresses.
"Okay, something more urban? Not to worry. These outfits are for my nobles and divas. I am more than capable of designing outfits for a more practical purpose."
"Your call, kid … you need new clothes anyway," Elijah said.
Emily laughed. "I guess you have a point there."
The merchant clapped her hands and smiled. She then reached under the table and retrieved some clothes. "Here, take these in the meantime. It will take me until tomorrow to get both your outfits ready."
"Don't worry about me, just make something for her," Elijah replied.
"Are you certain?"
Elijah nodded. "Nothing against your craftsmanship. I got a tailor already."
"Oh, where are you from?"
Elijah lit another cigarette. "Tyrial, born and raised. Came to Leonore for business, and I guess business found me," he chuckled, pointing at his grey mask.
"Guess you had no interest in divinity?"
"No, and especially not when the other option is being six feet under."
"I wish I could take your position. But alas, the ENGINE saw something in you more so than I."
"Why would you aspire to be chosen?" Emily asked, clutching the clothes the merchant had given her.
"I imagine myself the PRIME of beauty. Not a single person wearing atrocious outfits on my watch."
"Could I make one small request?"
"Of course... It's about that star-speckled dress?"
Emily nodded. "I like it … don't know why though."
The merchant smirked. "Not to worry, I will make sure your outfit will have the stars sewn in with each stitch."
Emily smiled and approached the dress. "May I?"
"Go right ahead."
Emily rubbed her hands across the fabric. Her distant stare returned. She stood completely still for several seconds. "Thread and needle, Thread and needle."
"Hey, kid," Elijah said, then snapped his fingers. "Hey, kid... back to Earth!"
Emily blinked, then gazed at Elijah. "Sorry, started daydreaming lyrics. Weird habit of mine," Emily muttered, forcing a smile on her face.
"You are a musician?" the merchant asked.
Emily shrugged. "It's just poetry … stuff I scribble in my journal."
"She is full of shit," Elijah chuckled.
The merchant placed a hand on her hip. "Selling yourself short?"
Emily did not reply, rubbing her neck while avoiding the merchant's gaze.
"Alright, we need to find a place where you can clean up," Elijah insisted.
The merchant pointed across the street to a building. "I have a friend there who teaches fencing. Tell her that Ashley sent you, and she will let our young chosen freshen up."
"Appreciate that," he replied. "Come on, kid, let's get you out of that. Can't have you winning the pilgrimage because of your hygiene."
"Fuck you," Emily grumbled.
Elijah chuckled as they walked. "You didn't like that? I thought it was funny."
"I am throwing your cigarettes in the garbage the first chance I get."
Emily hummed alongside the baroque tunes playing when they entered the building. Silver and gold adorned the paintings on the wall. Trophies lined the hallway as her dirty boots stepped on pristine marble floors.
"Hello, Ashley sent us. Do you think this one can freshen up here?" Elijah asked the receptionist.
The receptionist smiled, looking at their mask. "Of course, the bathroom is just down that hallway. Also, feel free to join any of our fencing lessons for free. It's on the house."
"You don't gotta do any of this, sourpuss? Still don't know why you're trying to help me when we're supposed to be killing each other in a couple of days," Emily asked as she followed Elijah down the hallway.
"That's then; this is now, and believe it or not, maybe I don't care about winning," Elijah replied.
"You ain't scared to die?"
"Not really; we die many times in our lives before we actually kick the bucket."
"Don't you have family?"
"Did."
"Oh."
Elijah leaned on the front entrance to the bathroom. "Made peace with it years back. Now get cleaned up… you smell like shit."
Emily frowned and then stepped into the locker room. She dug into her pocket and put her notebook on the locker bench before hopping into the shower. Her fingers pruned as she stood with a trance-like stare, as water trickled down her skin. Teal highlights showed more vividly as the dirt dripped down, swirling into the filthy water surrounding Emily's feet. She rubbed her hands through her hair as a fog of steam spilled into the locker room.
"I wake up where the city numbs," Emily sang, her eyes staring down at the water swirling.
"Empty stomach, hunger drums."
"Thread and needle in merchant's hands."
"She promises what I can't understand."
She turned off the shower and dried her hair in the mirror. Her reflection gazed back at her with glowing mulberry and solar orange eyes. It grinned while wearing an oversized star-speckled black hoodie. Emily tapped her chin with her pen before scribbling in her notebook.
My reflection fades; I'm barely there.
Her lyrics manifested on the mirror.
Eyes like hunger, tangled hair.
Her reflection's grin stretched wider.
Every person shows what I could be.
The lights flickered overhead.
But they will never notice me.
The lyrics faded in the steam.
Emily frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back with the same frown and melancholic disposition as she got dressed. She scribbled some more lyrics in her notebook while her reflection tilted its head at her before Emily left the bathroom.
"Well, at least you don't smell like trash," Elijah jested, checking out Emily's clothes.
"Fuck you."
"Hey, hope you don't mind, but I signed you up for a fencing lesson."
"What are you, my dad?"
"No, but given you're about to be fighting for your life in a couple of days, I figure you should at least know how to defend yourself."
"I can take care of myself."
"Then show me."
"You don't believe me?"
"Just take the damn class; this differs from playing a damn cello."
Emily groaned. "Fine... fine, whatever."
Sweat, perfume, metal, and leather hit Emily's nose as they entered the fencing room. Training swords clashed with Baroque music. Her eyes lingered on the two sparrers, their faces hidden behind a fencing mask. She examined their footwork, fixating on how they shuffled back and forth.
A fencer weaved and dodged her opponent, her sword tapping the other fencer's vital area.
"Set-match. Point to Rachel," the referee announced.
The fencers bowed and took off their fencing masks.
Emily's heart quickened as she stared at the female with strawberry blonde hair. The warm honey blonde highlights in her hair contrasted with the black mask on the right side of her face. Sweat dripped from her sun-touched, rosy skin. Her chestnut eyes glanced over at Emily.
"Another chosen?" the girl asked, taking off her gloves. A smile spread across her face. "Finally, some competition."
Emily averted her gaze. Her cheeks flushed while she looked down at the mat.
"I am Rachel from the Empire of Augustine. And you are?"
"Why do I feel like I know her?"
"You can daydream after telling me your name, chosen."
"I ummm... Emily from Leonore?"
"Why do I feel like I heard that name before?" Rachel asked, then glanced up at Elijah, noticing his gray mask. "Are you family?"
Elijah shook his head. "Nope, just met her today. What's a noble from the empire doing in Leonore on Prime Day?"
Rachel chuckled. "The empire goes wherever she pleases. After all, we birthed the most PRIMEs, and I will be the next."
"?ʍouʞ ǝɥs pı̣ꓷ"
"Takes more than confidence to be the next PRIME."
"Care for a friendly match?"
"Sorry, kid, I won't be your ego boost today."
Rachel smirked, then looked at Emily. "What say you, Emily of Leonore?"
"I never fenced," Emily replied.
"˙sǝı̣ꓶ"
"The other chosen won't care about that when they put a sword through your gut."
Emily's face soured while she stared into Rachel's eyes. Both of them refused to break eye contact.
Elijah lit another cigarette. "You're not wrong about that."
"She didn't have to say it like that," Emily said.
"Truth hurts. The ENGINE chose you both, but all I see are cowards."
Emily did not reply. She walked over to the wall and picked up a fencing sword.
"Hey kid, hold up," Elijah shouted, but Emily ignored him.
"Relax, this is a spar. I ain't going to hurt her, and the ENGINE won't intervene either," Rachel said, grinning at Emily. "No gear?" Rachel asked as she approached without putting on the protective suit.
Emily didn't reply, just stared into Rachel's eyes without putting up her sword. Rachel's eyebrow raised, waiting for Emily to assume a fighting position, but it never came. Rachel tightened her grip on her rapier, then lunged at Emily in one swift, precise movement.
Emily dodged it without lifting a finger.
"The fuck?" Elijah whispered to himself.
"Sharp instincts, Emily, of Leonore. You might be a natural at this," Rachel said, then fixed her posture, preparing for another attack.
She then lunged once more, feinting her attack, which caused Emily to block with her rapier. Rachel followed up with a swift assault, which Emily dodged and blocked.
"You're a cheeky one. Pretending you never fenced before to make me underestimate you," Rachel said, then parried Emily's attack. She assumed a counterattack stance.
"˙pǝɹǝʇʇɐɯ ǝʌɐɥ ʇ'upןnoʍ ʇI"
Emily lunged, parrying Rachel's defensive attack. She readjusted her stance for another attack, failing to notice Rachel's sword had tapped her on the shoulder.
"Point, Rachel of Augustine," the referee declared.
"Not bad… good match," Rachel said, then sheathed her rapier.
"I seriously never fenced before," Emily replied, rubbing where Rachel's sword had landed.
"Well, you're a freaking natural, Emily of Leonore," Rachel replied, offering a handshake.
Emily looked down at her hand and then looked into Rachel's eyes. She then shook her hand and smiled.
"We must do this again before we have to get serious."
Emily's cheeks turned rosy while she smiled.
Elijah lit another cigarette as the two girls conversed. He leaned against the wall, forcing a smile when Emily looked at him.