Page 20 of Cursed By Gold

I shrug, "That sounds like their problem then."

The woman seems to consider my response before nodding her head. "Very well, this tournament will have a public element. There will be particular tasks that the civilians will be allowed to watch. Do you have anything else you would like to add?" she asks, her voice still carrying an air of mystery.

“No ma’am.”

Hand outstretched, she smiles, “Scarlet Marheart, I would like to invite you to round two of the entrance process. If you wish to proceed, exit out of the door behind me. If you wish to reconsider, now is your chance. You may leave the way you came.”

The woman’s words hang in the air as I walk through back door and into a small courtyard. In front of me are several stations with different tasks to complete—swordsmanship, throwing daggers, lifting weights, identifying items and plants, and more. I had expected to sign my name and await an answer; this was much more involved than I anticipated.

Approaching the dagger station, I spot a man with short red hair and a scar running down the left side of his face. His stern, no-nonsense demeanor makes it clear this won’t be a walk in the park.

“Let’s see what you can do,” he says gruffly, motioning to the table laden with daggers. Picking one up, I feel its weight in my hand and immediately notice the balance is off. I try to mask my frustration, but he catches the slight furrow of my brow.

“The tournament will be a challenge,” he says, handing me another dagger, his eyes sharp and knowing. “You’ll have to adjust your technique and work with what you’ve got. You won’t always be allowed to bring your own weapons for the rounds.”

Taking the second dagger, I give it a few practice swings, testing its balance and weight. It feels better, but I stay on guard.

Without warning, he lunges at me, a swift and calculated move aimed straight for my chest. I sidestep quickly, my instincts kicking in. I counter with an overhead strike, aiming to catch him off guard. He parries my blow, the clang of metal resonating through the air.

We circle each other, eyes locked. He feints to the left, then attacks from the right. I deflect his strike and counter with a low sweep, but he jumps back just in time. The intensity of our sparring escalates, each move and countermove more precise and aggressive. His attacks are relentless, but I manage to hold my ground, my training with daggers serving me well.

After several minutes of this back-and-forth, he steps back, breathing heavily but with a look of approval in his eyes. “Impressive,” he says finally, his voice carrying a hint of respect. “You have potential.”

He motions for me to put down the daggers and then gestures toward the other stations. “Go on,” he says, handing me a card with a signature on it. “You’ve passed. You need to collect three to make it into the final consideration of contestants.”

Relieved yet invigorated, I pocket the card and thank him before moving on to the next station, ready to prove myself once again. The challenge excites me, and I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Next, I approach a table with a variety of plants on it. After years of growing the food we eat and scavenging medicinal plants because of my stepmother’s spending habits, I am reasonably confident I can pass any test they give me.

At the table is a grey-haired woman wearing a simple brown dress and carrying a basket full of different plant specimens. She smiles warmly at me and gestures for me to come closer as she begins to explain her task.

“This is not as easy as it looks,” she says, pointing to a few of the plants in front of her. “Some of these are poisonous if eaten raw, but safe when cooked in specific ways; others have medicinal properties when combined with certain other herbs.” She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine for understanding.

I nod, excited, as I look at all the herbs and plants on the table. This is something I know I can do. “I understand,” I say confidently. “I have experience with growing and identifying plants.”

The woman smiles at me, her eyes brightening. “Excellent,” she says. “Then this should be easy for you.” She hands me a small vial filled with liquid and points to a plant on the table. “This is the herb you need to identify. Pour a drop of this liquid on it and tell me what it is used for.”

I take the vial and walk over to the plant, examining it closely. It looks like chamomile, but I want to be sure. I carefully pour a drop of the liquid on a small section of the plant’s stem. Immediately, a sweet, earthy smell fills the air. “This is chamomile,” I say confidently. “It is commonly used to treat anxiety and promote relaxation.”

The woman looks impressed as she makes a few notes on her clipboard. “You have a good eye for botanicals,” she says, handing me another vial of liquid. “Now, try this one.”

The next plant she points to is less familiar. Its leaves are broad and dark, and the stem has a slight purple hue. I rack my brain, trying to recall my training. I pour a drop of the liquid on the stem and wait. A sharp, almost metallic scent wafts up. “This is belladonna,” I say slowly. “It’s highly poisonous if ingested raw. However, in very small, controlled doses, it can be usedto treat muscle spasms and pain, but it must be handled with extreme caution.”

The woman nods approvingly, jotting down more notes. “Very good. Now, for the last one,” she says, pointing to a plant with tiny white flowers and jagged leaves.

I recognize it immediately but pour the liquid on it to be sure. A pungent, almost peppery smell fills the air. “This is yarrow,” I explain. “It’s used in traditional medicine to stop bleeding and promote healing of wounds. It can also be made into a tea to help with digestive issues and reduce fever. It’s very versatile but must be properly prepared to be effective.”

The woman looks thoroughly impressed as she finishes her notes. “Very impressive,” she says with a smile, handing me another card with her signature. “You have passed this round. You may proceed to the next station.”

Feeling more confident than ever, I move on to the next challenge, eager to prove myself once again. Each step brings me closer to my goal, and I intend to make the most of this opportunity

The “Accident”

Remme

From my vantage point, I observe the woman with blonde hair as she navigates the courtyard, her movements deliberate and focused as she engages with the trials. Her determination is evident, each step calculated and precise.

So far, she’s impressed me. Her use of daggers lines up well with the aftermath we found in the castle the first night she entered. The guard had been killed without defending themselves first with a short blade. Her second choice of challenges, the botany, had been unexpected. But I can see how that could serve a woman well in everyday life and be used by a thief.

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