Keeper of crimson petals, p.1
Keeper of Crimson Petals, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Winter Lie
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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Cover Illustration by Kart Studios
Cover Typography by Kart Studios
1st edition 2023
one
The first and final steps in the path of a Keeper were death. Their order was not one of glory, nor was it one of joy. To be a Keeper was to dedicate one’s life, completely and utterly, to protecting another.
They were far more than mere bodyguards. When the time came for thought, they were advisors. When the time came for war, they were soldiers. When the time came for peace, then they were butlers. They were what they needed to be – and more.
Upon the day that Jasmine joined the order of the Keepers, her first death came to pass. Her ties to the outside world were cut, her name stricken from the Whitewater Kingdom’s records.
There was nothing left for her outside the tall, obsidian walls of the Sanctum – not until she graduated from the training program and earned the right to serve the King’s line.
And that was exactly how she wanted it.
It had been six months since she’d begun her training as a Keeper, and she’d loved nearly every second of it.
Nearly every second.
Jasmine leaned back as a sword whistled through the air before her face, passing so closely to her that she could feel the wind from its passing. She shifted her weight and drove her shoulder into Asher’s chest.
He staggered backward with a grunt. Even as he caught his balance and raised his blade to defend himself, Jasmine hooked her leg behind his and yanked his feet out from under him. The man fell, rolling as he hit the ground.
Jasmine lunged, aiming to land a strike on him while he was down. Asher rolled as if he had eyes on the back of his head, his own sword striking out like a snake and knocking Jasmine’s to the side.
He grabbed a handful of sand and flung it into her face. Jasmine staggered back, squeezing her eyes shut with a curse. Her hand moved, flicking out in a mixture of instinct and training.
A loud clang rang out as her blade struck Asher’s and flung it from his hand. They froze, both breathing heavily. Jasmine took a step back, catching her breath as she wiped the sand from her eyes.
“I win,” Jasmine said. “You should rely on real swordsmanship, you know. There isn’t always sand to use.”
“If there isn’t sand, there’ll be something else.” A smirk flickered across Asher’s tanned features, and his golden eyes twinkled in amusement. If he hadn’t looked so much like a smug cat, Jasmine might have considered him handsome. “I always find a way to win in the end.”
“That’s what you’ve said every time you’ve lost, but I don’t see you winning much anymore. How long has it been? Maybe you should try a little harder.”
“Maybe so. Then again, I actually know how to split my time. Fighting isn’t the only thing a Keeper should be able to do.”
Jasmine grimaced. And, in the instant that she was distracted, Asher’s foot whipped out. He knocked her legs out from under her and she slipped back, falling onto the sand with a pained grunt.
Moving with the grace of a snake, Asher shot forward and slammed Jasmine’s hands back to the ground before she could raise them. He sat on her chest and locked eyes with her, his smug grin growing wider.
“The match was over. That was a cheap blow.” Jasmine growled.
“No fight is over until someone is dead.”
“Just get off me.”
Asher snickered and rose to his feet, releasing Jasmine. He held a hand out, but she ignored it and stood up on her own. Asher hadn’t been wrong. There was a lot more to being a Keeper than knowing how to kill, but none of it was anywhere near as interesting.
Asher padded over to the side of the small stone room and grabbing his shirt from where it hung on a rack. The toned muscles on his back glimmered with sweat as he pulled his shirt on. Jasmine was tempted to avert her eyes, but she knew better. That would have left an opening, and she didn’t put it past him to try to attack again.
“Ninety-six to ninety-seven,” Asher said begrudgingly as he turned away from the rack and pushed a strand of long, brown hair out of his eyes. “You’re officially better than me. As you pointed out, that wasn’t an official match.”
The words felt hollow to Jasmine’s ears. The only thing she had was fighting. Asher led the class in every other aspect a Keeper was trained on in their first year – diplomacy, etiquette, strategy, and butlery.
He was insufferable.
“If you realize that you’ve got shortcomings, you should probably spend some time fixing them,” Asher advised. “It’s not like you couldn’t do it if you spent a tenth as much effort as you do on fighting.”
“If I wanted advice, I’d speak to Keeper Esther. You can keep yours.” Jasmine stalked to the other side of the room, taking a towel from a rack and wiping herself down before pulling a Keeper uniform over her leather-padded undershirt.
He’s not wrong, but that just makes it even more annoying. Keeper Esther is going to have my head if I don’t manage to start rounding my skills out. Watcher’s Ass, this is frustrating.
“Internally scolding yourself?” Asher asked. “I’m telling you, it’s not just hard. Just pay attention in class.”
“Shut up,” Jasmine said with a huff. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what? Reading your mind?”
“You can’t read my mind. You aren’t a Starvein, so you don’t have any magic in you. You’re just a competent asshole.”
“I’d say I’m more than just competent.” Asher cleaned his sword off, then slid it into a sheath that hung at his side. He turned back to Jasmine and cocked an eyebrow. “And was I wrong?”
No.
“Yes. I was just thinking of more humiliating ways I could beat you in our next sparring match.”
“That’s the problem. Instead of that, you should be thinking of ways to avoid insulting Keeper Esther during our etiquette training.” Asher opened the door in the back wall and stepped out into an open-air pathway. Just below the railing at its edge stretched the top of the Sanctuary’s great walls, wide enough to take several wagons across side by side, if one were so inclined. The black stone shimmered in the moonlight, and large guard towers rose up all along it.
Beyond the walls were the sloping grass fields of the mountain that the massive school had been built upon. They were split in twain by a thick, winding river that came from the mountains behind Sanctuary. The river ran straight through the center of Sanctuary and down the side of the mountain.
It led up to a city by the name of Rodrige that was just a little under a week’s travel away – one that Jasmine didn’t care to remember. Even though it should have been nothing more than a distant memory, the scents from the vendors lining the streets and the loud calls of the morning market were still sharp in her mind.
“You going to just stand there forever?” Asher asked, tilting his head to the side. “This is a bit too much introspection, even for you. Are you that worried about failing Etiquette? I could tutor you – for a price.”
“I wouldn’t spend more time with you if you even if someone paid me to.”
“Could have fooled me. You love our sparring sessions.”
“Just because I respect your ability with a sword does not mean I respect you.”
“I’m hurt,” Asher said, placing a hand on his chest and feigning sadness. “You know, if you keep falling for cheap tricks, are they even cheap anymore?”
“That one won’t catch me again.”
“That’s why I’ve always got more.” Asher raised a hand in farewell and set off, chuckling to himself. “See you tomorrow.”
Jasmine did her best not to look too annoyed. She turned and headed down the path in the other direction toward her housing, resisting the urge to look back at Asher as he left. Even though they were both Keepers in training, Asher had gotten lucky with his dormitory assignment. It was at the center of Sanctuary, right next to just about anything one could want.
Jasmine’s, on the other hand, was a small building at the edge. It was close to the training fields, and that was about it.
Of course, compared to the Starvein Halls on the other side of the Sanctuary, all the Keeper dormitories were plain and uninspiring. She’d only seen them once before, and only briefly. The Starveins were haughty enough when she occasionally ran into them in the markets, and Jasmine had absolutely no desire to run into any more of the arrogant mages than she needed to.
Almost makes me wonder why I’m dedicating eight years of my life learning how to protect one of them, but as far as jobs for a gutter rat go, I don’t think I could have gotten luckier unless I was a Starvein myself.
Even if she didn’t have the fancy, gold clad halls of a Starvein to keep her company, Jasmine didn’t mind. The training areas were the most important parts of Sanctuary – not counting the markets on Tenthday, when merchants came in selling all s orts of confectionery that she happily spent the majority of her allowance on. She didn’t care much for the rest of the Sanctuary.
And screw Etiquette class. I can just make something up. All you have to do is be nice. That’s not that hard. Hey, I could practice by being nice after I beat Asher in another sparring match tomorrow morning. I can’t let myself get lax. I’m only one win ahead of him.
A small grin crawled across Jasmine’s lips as she walked, already envisioning the coming day.
Tomorrow’s match will be fun.
That match never came.
two
Asher had never been so much as been late before. But, as rays of sunlight peeked through the windows along the wall of the training room, Jasmine started to realize that Asher might not just be late – she was pretty sure he wasn’t coming at all.
A frown crossed her face. He was a lot of things, but he’d never been a coward. It didn’t make sense for him to skip out on their training. She’d expected him to be even more eager to fight since he’d finally lost the lead he’d had over her.
Is he planning a sneak attack or something? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s never held off this long before. There’s no way he’s actually that mad about losing to me, is there? He’s Rank 1 in basically everything other than combat.
She waited for a few more minutes, but nobody joined her. Eventually, the sun rose high enough that she couldn’t risk standing around any longer. It wouldn’t be long before the morning class started, and Keeper Esther did not appreciate when her students showed up late.
The trip to class was strangely quiet. Without Asher ribbing her the entire way back, it almost felt empty – but there was also a degree of peace that Jasmine would vehemently insist that she enjoyed.
Walking alone through the morning air had a certain charm to it.
Just not as much charm as walking back after a victory while Asher sported a smarting bruise.
Jasmine arrived at the lecture room and stepped inside. There was no door blocking the doorframe – it was just a large archway that went a long way in illuminating the entire large area while the sun was still across from it.
One hundred stone seats were carved into the ground, each with a single, worn thin cushion placed atop them. They were arranged in a semicircle before a large dais. Only eleven of the seats were full, and Keeper Esther stood by the dais, leaning on a bone staff.
Esther was an elderly woman well into her seventies, but even in spite of her graying hair and lame leg, her body was still toned and muscular. She moved with terrifying grace and had sent Jasmine home beaten black and blue after enough sparring matches to instill enough respect to last a lifetime.
Jasmine took her seat, and the blonde girl in the chair beside her sent her a conspiratorial eyebrow wiggle. “You’re early today. What happened?”
“Nothing. And, Lydia, before you ask, I mean that in the literal sense.”
“Really? You didn’t train?” Lydia’s green eyes widened in shock and she glanced over her shoulder, as if to see if anybody else had overheard. She looked back to Jasmine and lowered her voice. “Are you sick? Did you injure yourself?”
“No, I’m fine. My partner just skipped out on me.”
“You’re kidding. Asher bailed?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jasmine said, leaning back and letting out a sigh. “What a waste of time. The smug bastard is probably pouting that I pulled ahead of him..”
“You pulled ahead? Damn, Jas. Good job. Asher deserves to lose at something. He’s a prick. I didn’t think he’d actually get that annoyed about losing, though. Who would have thought.” Lydia scrunched her nose. “Still cute, though.”
“You didn’t think that when he demolished you in our last set of ranking battles,” Jasmine said with a wry grin. “I recall you using a few choice words that even Keeper Esther hadn’t heard before.”
“Yeah, well, he cheated. He had dried pepper in his pockets. Pepper! Who carries a pocket of pepper around?”
“Not arguing with you there,” Jasmine said. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and check if Asher had arrived yet. They had a mutual agreement to keep their matches out of the classrooms to avoid disciplinary action, but she wouldn’t put any underhanded strategies past him.
Jasmine heard two more sets of footfalls enter the classroom, but she could tell by their gait that neither belonged to Asher. The other students all whispered in hushed tones to each other, but Jasmine paid them little mind.
“We have all arrived,” Keeper Esther said, tapping her staff on the ground to draw their attention. “All that will be arriving today, at least. Today’s lecture will be different than our norm.”
Esther’s voice echoed through the room, silencing everyone. All fourteen of them. Fifteen, if Asher had been here. For a room that had once been meant to house classes of one hundred, it often felt oppressively empty.
“What about Asher?” Lydia asked. She’d never been one to wait long for an answer, and today was clearly no exception.
“That is the matter which we will discuss.” Esther’s voice was more somber than Jasmine was used to, and her words drew the attention of every Keeper-in-training that sat in the room.
“Asher will no longer be with us,” Esther said.
Everyone stared at her in shock.
“What?” Jasmine exclaimed. “He dropped out of Sanctuary?”
“He left the Keeper order,” Esther said, inclining her head. “Due to personal circumstances. It is not my place to speak any further on this matter, but the decision is final.”
“Why would he do something like that?” Jasmine pressed. “Are you sure there wasn’t a mix up or something? We were just training yesterday. I don’t see why he’d leave.”
“It is not the place of a Keeper to wonder. It is our place to act,” Esther said, her words carrying an underlying note of steel that would take no response other than acceptance. Jasmine sank back into her chair, repressing the urge to start arguing with the older woman. The last thing she needed was disciplinary action.
I just don’t understand. Why would he just leave for no reason? It doesn’t make sense. I’m not going to let that sneaky bastard just slip away like this. I’ll find Asher and drag him back until he begs Esther to let him back in.
“I understand you are surprised,” Esther said. There was an uncharacteristic note of sympathy in her voice. “But we must all continue on. Loss is a part of our order that will never leave. Just be thankful that he is not dead.”
“That’s got to suck,” Lydia leaned over and whispered into Jasmine’s ear. “Good luck finding someone else that wants to spar every morning. Then again, maybe this is good. We can practice not setting the kitchen on fire.”
Jasmine grunted, not even trying to hide the mixture of disappointment, annoyance, and sadness in her chest. It didn’t sit right with her at all. Asher hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to leave the order. He’d been completely normal the previous day.
What happened?
“I wished to gather you all to inform you of the loss to our numbers, but that is not the only announcement I have today,” Esther said. They all looked back at her.
“Are we getting a new Keeper to replace Asher?” Brock, a bushy-browed boy with heavy features asked from behind Jasmine. “Fifteen is already the smallest Year One Keeper class in years, isn’t it? Now we’re down a member.”
“You’re just hoping someone new joins so you don’t have to be last in the rankings anymore,” Lydia said.
“Says the girl in tenth place. You’re not much better.”
“There’s more to being a Keeper than swinging a sword,” Lydia countered. She glanced at Jasmine out of the corner of her eye and cleared her throat as she looked back to Brock. “Do I really need to remind you what happened the last time you tried baking? I think I’ve still got the lump of coal you called bread sitting around somewhere.”
Brock let out an undignified grumble. He was rescued by Esther, who sent Lydia a sharp glance.
“A Keeper also knows when to hold her words for a better time,” Esther said. “And you, Lydia, are as snippy as a field mouse. About as dangerous as one as well.”
All of them chuckled. It was a tense, awkward laugh that would have been far lighter the previous day. Keeper Esther paused for a moment, then pursed her lips.
