Chain Mail and Butterfly Wings

Okay, so here's the deal. I signed up to be a guard in the Royal Palace, or maybe even a soldier, I wouldn't have minded being a soldier. But what was I assigned as?

A soldier?

Nope.

Then a guard?

I wish.

My current position in the Royal Palace has something to do with the prison wing...

So you are a soldier!

I didn't say that exactly...I currently...mop the cell floors in the prison wing...Yeah, it isn't exactly the most pleasant of jobs, especially since I'm not completely committed to only mopping, and I have to practically take care of all of the prisoners. In doing so, I have to interact with the prisoners from time to time, and let me inform you, prisoners aren't that pleasant to talk to. Oh, and did I mention that most of them deliberately go out of their way to "miss" their chamber pots? Well, they do, and I'm required to clean it up, even if I'd rather leave them to stew in their own filth.

How'd I end up with such a crappy job? Well, that has a simple answer: I'm a girl. And girls are expected to stay home and learn how to be little Suzy Homemaker from their mothers, so that they can grow up and take care of their husbands. Unfortunately, this part of being a girl wasn't in my agenda. My father had taught me to fight when I was younger, and ever since, I'd dreamt of becoming a guard or something else that involves combat. At least I got a little close to that goal. However, it was always painfully just out of my reach.

Since the head of the guards couldn't deny me because I was a girl and I obviously had some skill in combat, they admitted me into the guards ranks. However, I have yet to encounter any combat, and they simply give me all of the crappy jobs that nobody wants, such as cooking and cleaning and sorting things. So, basically, I'm the housewife of the prison wing. That's ironic. I'm pretty sure they just give me the crappy jobs in hopes that I'll get pissed off an leave soon. But unfortunately for them, I'm persistent, another virtue my dad taught me.

And one of these days, I'm going to do real guards work, not maids work. But hey, at least I get the uniform and standard issued baton.

Then again...all the males also have daggers...My life sucks so far, but I'll get a break one of these days. I'm sure of it.

_______________________________________________________________

"Angeline!" A male voice shouted from somewhere behind me.

"What?" I called back, irritated at just knowing who it was. I turned away from the paperwork on my desk as the door to my quarters opened.

That was one good thing about being the only female guard in the palace, I didn't have to share a room with any of the other guards.

Standing in my doorway was a man I knew well enough to hate. He was a short, stocky man with a round, pudgy face and a noticeable drunkard's nose as well as a big "Texas-style" moustache, which matched the color of his thinning orange hair.

...I know, ugly, right? Well, don't worry, he knows it too and he's got a hell of a temper because of it. I'm not sure it's merely coincidence that such an ugly person has a hideous personality as well.

"Angeline," he said, this time more sharply, "What are you doing in here?"

I couldn't keep myself from glaring at him, just the sound of his strangely falsetto voice made me want to scream, "What I'm doing is the un-sort-able work you gave me!" I exclaimed, irritated that I'd been locked in my room for four hours to sort papers that I'm pretty sure were written by thumb less monkeys.

He frowned at my defiant tone, needless to say, he didn't like being talked to in such a rude manner, you would think by now he'd be used to it from me, but apparently not. "I don't remember assigning such work, give me that." He snatched a stack of papers from my desk, mixing two others together in the process.

I growled involuntarily, shuffling the papers back into place with unlady-like swears.

"These are tax returns," he muttered, sounding annoyed.

I stared at him like he was an idiot--which I believe he really was. "Yeah. You told me to sort them by date." I tried to keep my voice level.

"Forget it. We don't even need these sorted. Now, come with me I have a task for you." He tossed the papers in a heap on my desk and walked toward the door.

I sat in my seat for several long moments to compose myself and keep from snapping on my commanding officer and beating the crap out of him with my baton. It took me the majority of my small reserve of patience to simply get up to follow him and say, "Yes sir."

Even before I stepped into the hallway, I knew where he was leading me: To the prison wing. It was technically where I was supposed to be working anyway.

There was no doubt in my mind that there was a mess and all of the men were too consumed with their testosterone levels to degrade themselves to clean something up. So, I'd be stuck with the task. As usual.

We only went down a single flight of stairs before we were within the depths of the dark, damp prison wing. If I hadn't been there so frequently I might have gagged at the stench. No matter how much I cleaned, the prison wing always seemed to smell like something had rolled in a pile of shit, shuffled through a field of dead carcasses, rolled in another pile of shit and then died next to a moldy patch of bread in a corner. Hopefully I'd never find the source, and if that was the source, I'd commit suicide before I cleaned it up.

"Commander Burman?" I asked with no less bite to my voice than before. "What is it that you need me to do?" I tried not to sound permanently pissed off, but couldn't seem to manage it.

Commander Burman turned quickly to face me and thrust a mop and bucket into my hands, "We have a new customer coming in." He smiled to himself at using the term 'customer', too bad he made that joke every time there was a new prisoner so it wasn't funny anymore, and it wasn't even funny in the first place. "So, I need you to prepare a cell and move a cot into it."

I frowned, since when did prisoners get cots? Hell, I had a cot. Did that mean I was getting promoted to a king sized bed? "A cot?" I questioned skeptically, maybe I'd just heard him wrong.

"Yes, a cot. You know, those things with four legs and a mattress that you sleep on?" he stated mockingly.

Well, that was unnecessarily rude.

"I know what it is. But why am I moving one into a cell?" Silently I added, you grumpy bastard.

"Don't ask questions. Just do it," Commander Burman ordered briskly and continued to talk as he walked toward the door, "You have exactly fifteen minutes before he arrives, so I suggest you set it up quickly." And then he was gone.

Commander Burman had this really irritating habit of talking as he walked away, sometimes not even finishing his sentences, so I had no clue what he wanted me to do. In these cases I just had races with the kids of the maids, we put soap all over one of the corridor floors and saw who slid the farthest. Since I weighed the most, I usually won pretty easily, but it was still fun.

"Yes, of course," I muttered angrily, filling the bucket with water, "'cause I just live to serve your fat ass..."

Once the bucket was about half-full, I entered the hall where the cells were and was instantly greeted by cat-calls from the convicts. I muttered quite unlady-like words, as I often did, and walked to the very last cell on the right side. As I started mopping, a man in the cell beside me stated, "Hey Lassie, I left you a present in the corner." He sounded pretty proud of himself too.

I felt my eye twitch in annoyance, then I smiled sweetly and looked up at him, startling him with my expression, and said very politely, "Well then, I know what you're having for dinner."

His face paled at the thought. This particular prisoner was new, and apparently no one told him I wasn't opposed to feeding them anything that happened to "miss" their chamber pots.

...........

What? Just because I said I had too clean it up didn't mean I didn't save it for them later. And besides, it taught them to aim carefully.

He didn't say anything else as I mopped, which meant I'd left a lasting impression, which satisfied me.

When I'd finished mopping, I dumped the dirty water out a nearby window, and returned the mop and bucket to the storeroom. Before I left the storeroom, I grabbed a folded piece of metal that would soon serve as an unstable cot. And let me tell you now, the stupid thing was outrageously heavy.

I lugged it slowly at my side, scraping it along the stone floor in the process. It made a terrible sound and most of the convicts complained, but, naturally, I ignored them.

When I reached the cell, I dragged the stupid cot to the farthest corner and fought with it for five minutes and finally got it set up.

By the time I'd set the lumpy mattress on the frame, the door opened on the opposite side of the room. Quickly, I scrambled to my feet--since I'd sat down for a short rest--and stumbled out of the cell. I stood at the ready position, my left hand holding my right wrist behind my back.

From the middle of the hallway came the General of Warfare, Darren Fritz. He was fairly young to be a general (he was thirty-two years old) but still handsome in his older age. He had a sharp, yet pleasant face and captivating green eyes which seemed to be darkened by his ebony hair. Unlike most of his soldiers, General Darren was pretty easy to talk to and didn't mind having a girl in his ranks.

He smiled when he saw me and paused in front of me. "Hello Angeline. How are you doing lately?" he asked politely.

I remained at the ready position, but smiled back. "I'm doing fine sir. How've you been?"

Darren shrugged. "You know, busy." He glanced behind him shortly then said, "It was good to see you, you're dismissed." He nodded to me and I relaxed slightly as I turned to leave. I was sure he had plenty to take care of with a new prisoner coming in, for some reason the majority of the male guards became extremely anxious when a new prisoner arrived.

As I passed four other guards who had been following General Darren, I couldn't help but glance at the new arrival walking between them. I hesitated, surprised to see a young man around my age, dressed in a dark blue tunic and a leather jerkin. He had blond, unruly hair of which he looked at me from behind with amber-colored eyes.

Had I had more time I would've looked at him longer, but he soon noticed I was staring at him, so I looked past him where five more guards followed closely behind him.

Nine guards? That was unusual, most had only four to escort them. What was so special about this guy? He didn't look that dangerous.

I shrugged the thought away and continued walking toward the door, but paused with my hand on the doorknob. Damn. I'd forgotten the blanket and pillow for the stupid cot. I thought of going back, but I decided against it. I would just bring them when I brought food to the prisoners that night. See? Problem solved, now I didn't have to look like I'd made a mistake...even though I did.

_______________________________________________________________

Unknown Prisoner's Point of View

It was laughable how many guards they had escorting me to the prison. I had already been disarmed, so there was really no need for half of them. Then again, I didn't exactly need a weapon to knock them out and escape.

I watched the ground as I was lead into the prison wing of the palace and made a face as the stench of the room assaulted my nostrils. How often did they clean this place?

There was a pause in the line of guards ahead of me, but the line soon continued forward. I glanced up from the ground, realizing someone was staring at me. The moment I made eye contact the new guard looked quickly behind me, as if they hadn't been staring. I watched the guard left, but they didn't even bother to turn around. What I found odd was the fact that the guard had been a female. I'd never seen another female guard throughout the entire palace. And the ones I had seen didn't look like women at all, but instead like slightly feminine men.

I shrugged inwardly, it was interesting, but not interesting enough to dwell on at the moment. Although, it was funny how quickly she had looked away.

The guards in front of me stopped on one side of a cell, while the ones behind me ushered me forward where I stood briefly in front of a man who had introduced himself as Darren Fritz, the General of Warfare, apparently. He nodded in the direction of the cell and I walked obediently in.

I heard the door swing shut behind me and turned around only to see the guards filing out of the room. The general stayed behind and said to me, "There's a bed in the corner, feel free to use it, you'll be here awhile." And then he turned briskly away and left.

I snorted at the thought, a lot he knew. I wasn't completely helpless just because they put me in a cell.

From the cell next to me came a gruff voice. "Saw you lookin' at Angeline, eh?" he said with a strange grin.

I turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Angeline, I saw ye lookin' at 'er, eh," he repeated, his accent making him hard to understand.

"Who's that?" I asked, although I was uninterested on the topic.

"The only gal you'll be see'n fer 'while," he said with a cackle and turned away from me, still cackling to himself as he sat in a corner.

I frowned, great, I was stuck next to a loon.

"Angeline..." I muttered to myself, rolling the name around in my mouth.

What an odd name.