The Villainess is the Villainess [LitRPG]

Book 2: Chapter 21 - A Clash of Gold & Silver [Part 2]

Seraphina's heart pounded in delight as the scene descended into utter bedlam. She hung back, Frest and Gravens at her sides. They both wore matching grimaces of controlled alarm, each keeping a hand on his sword hilt.

"Milady," Frest hissed, "we should withdraw—this is getting dangerous."

Seraphina let out a low, husky laugh. "Dangerous indeed," she murmured, eyes fixed on Este Lize's radiant hair, barely visible through the tangle of arms and weapons. Seraphina noted the flash of tears on the so-called Saint's cheeks. How precious, she thought. "But I wish to enjoy the view a little longer first."

Another guard roared, smashing the pommel of his sword into a furious citizen's face. A sickening crunch of breaking bone followed. The citizen toppled, blood gushing from his nose. His friends, or perhaps just nearby bystanders, surged forward to yank him out of the melee. The man with the crossbow on the rooftop snapped off another shot, taking out another nameless face in the crowd.

Some in the crowd simply abandoned all caution and fled, stumbling over each other as they ran. Others remained, gripped by righteous, or merely reckless, anger, throwing fists and stones at the ring of guards. A few stood frozen, pinned by indecision or terror.

Seraphina felt the press of Frest's hand at her elbow. "We are dangerously exposed here," he muttered, urging her to move. Gravens nodded in silent agreement.

In the heart of the tumult, Este Lize knelt to help someone who'd been knocked down—by the look of it, an elderly man with blood streaming from a scalp wound. A few in the crowd witnessed her mercy, and a ripple of confusion threaded through the chaos. Some of them, seeing her attempt to help, paused in their aggression. But the mood was too far gone—fear, fury, and the anger and violence of man can not be reined in so easily.

Above it all came the keening shriek of Istala. She'd been shoved to the ground, and she crawled over the stones of the street, calling for her dead parents. A spear-wielding guard nearly trampled her in his rush to chase down another assailant.

Seraphina breathed in, taking stock of the turmoil. The prince has been suitably punished, Este Lize is flailing in the chaos, and I have had the first course of my pleasure. She allowed herself a cold, satisfied smirk before she turned to Frest.

"Fine," she relented with a long, drawn-out sigh. "We're finished here. Let's take our leave before things truly get out of hand."

"Out of hand…" Frest muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Seraphina felt the smallest iota of guilt. "We are taking that one with us," she commanded, pointing to the struggling Istala.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Sir Frest nodded and barreled through the crowd, fists and boots lashing out at anyone in his path. Between blows, he cast nervous glances toward the rooftops, eyes peeled for the crossbowman. At last, he reached the poor girl and hoisted her over his shoulder as though she were a slab of meat.

"Stop! All of you—just stop!" Este Lize shouted, her voice pitched high and shaking with urgency. Mana crackled around her slender form as she chanted words of arcane power. The air hummed under the weight of her magic, building until she unleashed a dazzling blossom of fire into the sky.

It was meant to warn, not harm, but for the people of Meridian, that glowing flame was the last thing they wanted to see. The sight of fire, after their city's devastation, only rekindled memories of pain and tragedy.

"She's a witch!" someone in the crowd screeched. "The girl was right—she musta been the one who burned the city down!"

That was all it took to push the mob over the edge. People lunged forward, howling for blood, waving crude weapons, and hurling debris. Somewhere, a terrified child screamed, and the metallic scent of fear thickened in the smoky air.

Seraphina caught Este Lize's gaze through the chaos. Recognition flickered in the silver-haired girl's eyes, but her escort whisked her away before she could act. At Seraphina's side, Gravens raised his forearm just in time to deflect a careening bottle. It shattered against the crumbling wall behind them in a spray of jagged glass. With that, Seraphina and her companions pressed into a side street choked with ash and scattered rubble, leaving the furious clash of steel and screaming voices behind. Overhead, crows circled, drawn by the promise of yet more carnage.

The heir to the Sariens Duchy gloated. Just as she herself had been stripped of a measure of freedom through circumstance and poor fortune, so too would Este Lize now be similarly hindered. The church's dogsbody would no longer be able to roam the streets of Meridian without half an army to guard her.

Now safely removed from the epicenter of growing violence that she had instigated, Seraphina turned her attention to the bedraggled child who had been wrested from the crowd. The girl clung to Frest in trembling silence, her cheeks streaked with dirt and tears.

"Do you see now," Seraphina said, her voice cutting through the child's daze, "that your so-called 'Living Saint' can save no one? A few well-chosen words were all it took to peel back her façade."

Still quivering, the girl nodded, too shocked to muster any response beyond a hollow whisper. Her gaze darted around, half expecting the mob to descend upon them at any moment.

"Your precious Este Lize," Seraphina went on, flicking her short golden hair back with exaggerated nonchalance, "is nothing more than a propped-up nobody. People of power with far too much time on their hands use her to give the common folk a measure of comfort instead of offering any real salvation. A few kind words and gestures won't rebuild homes or feed the starving."

Gravens and Frest, dusty and bruised, stood behind their mistress with dutiful agreement etched into every tense line of their bodies.

"Why me?" the small child asked at last, in a voice that trembled from equal parts terror and exhaustion. "Why did you… choose me?"

Seraphina rolled her eyes. "It is always about me, me, me, and me with you people," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Because you were there, because you were convenient. Instead, you should be asking why the Goddess chose me to deliver this city from its downfall."

The child swallowed hard, fear and confusion warring in her eyes. "Who—who are you?"

"Seraphina de Sariens," she declared, head held high. "You will address me as Lady Seraphina. Remember that."

She paused, letting the child's fear settle into the silence, then flashed a cunning smile. "So, little one," she purred, "since you've nowhere else to go, I have just the place for you. Tell me…" She leaned in, voice low and sweet. "Do you like candies?"