How To Train Royalty

It was a job like all the other previous ones that Erin had taken—get in, get the item, get out. As simple and as straightforward as that. So when she received the offer just the day before, she didn’t have to think twice before accepting. Then when she woke up the next day—or to be more specific, the next noon—she went about her routine like the usual: she got out of bed at 1 PM, did a little research on the place she had to break into, ran a few miles, microwaved and ate whatever was left edible in the fridge, watched TV, tied her long black hair up, put on a plain black cap, then slung her backpack full of tools over her shoulder and headed out. The sun had just gone down by the time Erin walked the streets of Ashen City—a place that was known to tourists for all its culture and art. On the 4th and 5th Avenues were the large historical and art museums that high school students from all over the country visit for their field trips; there were the movie houses and old theatres that run along the 2nd Avenue, which was akin to Broadway and the West End; there was the string of high-end stores around the 3rd and the 6th that socialites liked to visit; and of course, the coffee shops and restaurants that serve colorful and picture-worthy food—that tastes like regular food but costs twice the amount of money—on the 4th Avenue would always be full with the upper middle-class; and if one was looking to reconnect with the good old-fashioned nature, there was the Ashen Square Park right in the middle where the grass was green and trimmed, trees were abundant, the flowers were professionally maintained, ducks could be seen by the pond, and birds sang on branches that made it possible for lovers to have a picturesque date on a nice, cloudless afternoon. With Ashen City seemingly brimming with life and art and extravagance, it was “the place to be" that people dreamed of living in. If one were to ask a local, however, it was a completely different story. If one were to live there long enough—at least for a week or two—to open their eyes, they would be able to filter out all the colorful façade and see how pretentious the city could really be. It was people like Erin, who had lived in Ashen City for more than a decade, who knew that underneath all the fantastic displays for tourists, it was actually a stirring pot of criminals and liars that appeared like rats in the night. Well, there were also literal rats that come out of the sewers come nighttime, but that barely touches the surface of the problem. Erin sauntered out of her second-floor studio apartment—which had leaky pipes and was victim to occasional power outages, despite it costing her more than half of what she earned—and very slowly walked down the metal stairs in order not to make any sound. She lived in a small building with four apartment units—two on each floor—that housed the 60-something-year old landlady, Martha, who was as forgetful as she was loud, a young straight couple who were almost always stoned, and a nosy gay man in his thirties, Joshua, who owned a small coffee shop—one of the cheaper ones in the worse part of the city that tourists don't come to. It was the last one, Joshua, who she was trying to avoid, but as soon as she got off the last step, the door on his ground floor unit opened and out he popped out. “Erin!” he excitedly exclaimed. It was a Sunday, and his coffee shop was closed on Sundays, so he was wearing this old white shirt that had brown stains on it. A burning smell wafted out of his open door and attacked Erin's nose, making an upper corner of her lip rise in distaste. “Joshua,” she said with an obviously feigned enthusiasm. The man, who had already become used to Erin's sarcasm and generally unpleasant social demeanor, chose to ignore it and said with an unfading glee, “Are you going out for work? Errands? Anyway, stay there for a second and I need you to try something.” Before Erin could even reply, Joshua disappeared back into his apartment and came rushing out of it again a few seconds later. This time, he was holding a tray of what looked like brownies with an oven mitt. “So, that’s what I was smelling,” Erin muttered as she stared at the blackened crispy crust of the dessert. “Yeah, doesn’t it smell great?” Joshua asked, taking a big whiff of it. Erin frowned at him, wondering if the burnt smell really didn’t register in his brain or if he was just choosing to ignore it. “Here, here, have a taste.” He pinched a small bite-sized portion and handed it to her. “I’m thinking of adding this to our menu.” Erin turned the thing over to examine it. Aside from the obviously burnt sides, there was something brown and gooey oozing from the center. “What is it?” she asked, not even attempting to hide the disgust on her face as she took a bite. “It's a brownie with peanut butter and strawberry jam inside,” Joshua proudly announced. “Can’t go wrong, right?” One could, realistically speaking, go wrong with it and this batch was a perfect example. It felt like eating damp paper towels with crunchy parts, and it almost tasted like it too. “Nope,” Erin gagged, but swallowed the barely masticated thing nonetheless. “Nope,” she said again, sticking her tongue out and spitting at open trashcan at the dumpster beside her. “You cannot serve that.” Joshua's face fell as he tried a piece for himself. He looked at Erin as if she was out of her mind. “But it’s great!” he argued, taking another bite. “Joshua, I’ll be straight with you,” she seriously said, looking him dead in the eyes, “that was crap and you should have your taste buds checked out. Something is clearly wrong with it if you think that that is edible.” Just then, the window of the unit next to Joshua's opened, and out popped Martha's head as she adjusted her crooked bifocals. “Erin! Is that you?” the old lady squinted in their direction. “And that’s my cue,” Erin smiled at Joshua as she turned him around and lightly pushed him towards Martha. Martha craned her neck to see behind Joshua, and in a scolding tone, said, “Erin, your rent was due—” “Oh, look, Joshua has brownies! You should try them, Martha, they’re really great,” Erin said in a high-pitched voice to emulate enthusiasm. “Erin! Your rent!” “I have to go now but I’ll hand over the rent tomorrow morning as soon as I get my paycheck!” Erin said as she speedily walked away. She pulled down her cap and tightly clutched her bag as she scanned her surroundings. “I just have to finish this job first,” she muttered under her breath, disappearing into the night. The job was around the 2nd Avenue, which was a place that was bright and populous in the day until late afternoon when people came and went to see overpriced musicals and plays. At that hour in the night, as Erin walked by it, the streets were dark and filled with a different population. In one corner, Erin could overhear someone yelling and chasing after a thief, in another were a bunch of teenagers huddled around with their skateboards and whatever it was they were smoking, and a few meters in front of Erin were a couple of actors still dressed in their medieval garments, loitering around all drunk and happy. Erin groaned as she prepared herself to walk past by the noisy group. She was no stranger to the different types of scum in the neighborhood, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed interacting with them either. One of the guys donning a fake metal chain while in his ripped jeans stepped in her way, causing her to abruptly stop. “Hey, you want a free backstage pass to our show?” he asked, smiling sleazily down at her. “Don’t you have to find the Holy Grail or something?” Erin asked, flicking at the props around his neck before walking around him, making his friends laugh and tease. “Love the spunk, sweetheart! Come by again later!” the man howled from behind her. Erin raised her middle fingers up at him without turning around, which only earned her a few more laughs. She kept on her path and stopped only when she reached the back of the building at the edge of 2nd Avenue. This was it, she knew from the details in the file she was sent. Erin's job was simple. After she had established her reputation as a… well, she prefers the term “courier,” potential clients would send a request to her email, detailing the nature of the job—what to get, where to get it, where to send it, and how much she would be compensated. In her many years of doing such work, Erin found herself only unable to deliver twice—one was because she had gotten sick, and the second was because she chose to keep the package instead. It wasn’t something she was proud of doing, but it paid enough for her to keep an apartment and save up for her dream. Clearing her mind of her conscience, she fastened her backpack tightly behind her and climbed up the fire escape. The target was on the third floor of an old commercial building. Many people didn’t know this, but on that floor of this unassuming building was where a loan shark operated. Erin peeked into one of the windows. It led to an office that was just exactly what she was looking for. The lights were on but the room was empty, so she knew she had to move quickly. Loan sharks didn’t work alone—they always had a bunch of goons at their disposal. She took one look at the window lock then took out a thin metal ruler from her bag. With just two tries, she was able to slide the window up with barely any noise. “Thank God for old buildings,” she muttered under her breath as she carefully dropped her bag into the room, then shimmied into the space. For tonight’s task, all she had to do was look for a file. Judging by the kind of computer on the desk, it was safe to assume that their bookkeeping was pretty old school, so she quickly began with the cabinets. After three minutes or so, she found the folder she was looking for. She was just double-checking the spelling to see if it matched her client’s request when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a young boy—probably 13 or 14—who looked as surprised as she was. It didn’t seem like he was with any adult, so that’s a good thing. Erin shut the cabinet and sweetly smiled at the kid, who was still unmoving as he stared at her. “Hey, kiddo,” she softly said, putting on her kindest face. “Who are you?” the boy asked, his eyes darting down at her bag which had a metal ruler and a wrench sticking out. “I’m new here. I was hired to check the cabinets and drawers,” she effortlessly lied. “I’m busy right now so do you mind shutting the door?” The boy's eyebrows met in the middle, but he seemed to consider her story. For a second, Erin thought she just might get away with it, but that was until the kid suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, “Dad! Dad! Someone's breaking in!” Erin's kind façade quickly dropped. “You have got to be freaking kidding me, man,” she snarled as she picked up her bag and carefully shoved the folder into it. Heavy footsteps and shouting were closing in from the hallway, and the kid backed away to let three large men by. At that time, Erin had just taken her feet from under the window and onto the fire escape. “Hey!” one of the men yelled as he ran towards the window. Thankfully, the opening was too small for beefy guys like him. “Stairs!” the man commanded and the other two scrambled to get out. Meanwhile, Erin was already climbing down the ladder in a hurry. By the time she reached the ground and burst into a full-on run, she could hear the two men having had just exited through the front door of the building. “There!” she overheard one shout, followed by heavy footsteps. Erin ran as fast she could down the street, turned at a corner, jumped up a dumpster so she could enter through an open window at a residential building, then went out on the other side. The men looked large and strong, but with all those muscles came the weight that made them slower than a 23-year old woman who ran every day and could slither through small openings. She made the executive decision to head towards Ashen Square Park to where the drop-off would be, and when she was sure that the men couldn’t see, placed the folder in the hedges where the client requested it to be delivered. She was able to do so just in time as they spotted her again, then she continued her escape, going down the East End so she could make it back to 2nd Avenue. There was an old abandoned bar there that she knew she could enter through a busted door lock at the back entrance. Once she gets inside, she was a hundred percent she could lose them. Everything was going as planned. The men were well behind her which would give her enough time to sneak into the building as soon as she turns the corner. It would have looked like she just disappeared at a dead-end in a dark alley. But sometimes, even when a plan seems perfectly straightforward, even when it has worked a bunch of times without fail, there are still unforeseeable factors that can arise. When Erin spotted that sweet, sweet abandoned building, she felt an ounce of relief. She had been running at full speed for quite a while, and all she wanted to do was get this over with, get her money, and brush the taste of Jonathan's disgusting brownies off her mouth as soon she gets home. But just as soon as she turned the corner to the alley, someone quite literally threw themselves at her. She didn’t see where the man came from, but she felt like a football player that was tackled from the side to the ground. Erin’s right shoulder and hip took most of the hit, but her left side didn’t fare any better as it came in contact with something cold and hard—like metal. The entire thing didn’t seem to be done on purpose, because the man let out a surprised “Ah!” and quickly got off her even before he realized he had just landed on a person. Erin also scrambled to get up on her feet, hissing a pissed “What the f—” as she grabbed her cap from the floor. She readied herself for battle and so did the other person, but when she faced her assailant, she stopped. She stood there, breathing heavily with her heart rate going more than a hundred per minute, her fists up and ready to fight, but the more she looked at him, the more confused she became. For there, standing right in front of her was a man equally as startled as her, wearing a costume with a helmet and a cape. They stared at each other for a good second, both unsure of what was happening, but before anyone could speak, Erin heard the sound of footsteps skidding to a stop as the two men chasing her turned the corner. “There she is!” one of them exclaimed, heaving after the length of the chase. “You have something of ours,” the other said. The person in the costume looked from Erin to the two large men coming towards them. There were three ways this could go. One, she could go into the building and risk other people discovering her usual hideout. Two, she could try and fight them—but she was unsure where this helmet guy stood. Three, she could push the helmet guy at the other two—with the right timing, it would at least buy her a few seconds to escape. “The third sounds fine,” she thought to herself, having no qualms with using another person as a distraction. He did, after all, get himself into this situation in the first place. Erin took a step back as the two men threateningly took a step forward. She was already thinking of an angle to push helmet guy with, when he suddenly stepped in between her and the other two. “Who are you? What is this place?” helmet guy asked, his voice sounding like it came from the inside of a can—which, well, was sort of the case with his face being covered by metal and all. “Move away, you theater geek,” one of the men sneered. Helmet guy didn’t move an inch from where he stood, but Erin could see his gloved hand tightening around the hilt of what she could only assume was a fake sword. Erin wanted to laugh. Was this guy for real? Wasn’t he taking this cosplay thing a little too far? He was tall, his body looked big in that costume —but really, these days, all one needs is padding to look buff—and he was donning a fake armor, but Erin was pretty sure that those two larger and thicker guys could take him down in a jiffy. “We just want the girl,” the other man sighed. “So, get lost and go back to La La Land or whatever play you came from. This is none of your business.” “It is my business if you are planning to lay a finger on a lady,” helmet guy said with such seriousness that Erin had to physically place her hand on her mouth to stop herself from laughing. At that point, she honestly could have run away, but she decided to casually stand there and watched for amusement instead. When helmet guy didn’t move, the man rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’m too tired of this shit.” He and his chuckling friend decided to walk around the faux knight of damsels-in-distress, but before they could even pass by him, he moved. It all happened in less than two seconds. He unsheathed his sword, hit one man with its hilt—effectively breaking his nose—then pointed the tip of its blade on the other’s throat. Erin's smile dropped, one man stepped back in surprise and scrambled to stop the bleeding of his nose, while the other froze solid in fear as he realized that there was an actual weapon—not a prop or a toy—a centimeter away from his skin. The blade of the sword glinted under the failing street lamp, held by a steady, threatening hand. No one was laughing then. “I have fairly warned you,” helmet guy said with an even voice. “Step away.” “Alright, alright, jeez,” the man in front of the sword nervously chuckled as he took a step back. “f*****g psychopaths,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at Erin and helmet guy before cowardly pulling his friend away. Erin stood there dumbfounded as helmet guy slid the weapon back into its scabbard and turned towards her. He was about to place a hand on her arm and ask her, “Are you alright—” when her instincts kicked in. Erin quickly pulled the sword out and simultaneously stepped back and pointed it at him. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The man slowly raised his hands up to his head. Erin warily watched as he carefully raised his helmet, saying, “My name is Alaric Siro Caverna, son of the former King Alaros, Prince of the Kingdom of Aurea.”