Page 6 of Hostile Holiday

“Top tier. I get training bonuses.”

“What do you do with them?” Orla sipped at her tea.

“The bonuses? Women usually. I don’t need much, and I have been here for quite some time.”

Orla blinked. “You can mail order a woman?”

“I can choose from the women available at Winter’s palace.”

“Winter?”

“You were sent here by a wolf, correct?” Tristan sipped his coffee.

“Yeah. It is a bit blurry.”

“That is Winter. He set this up as a trial to determine who is worthy to return to the mortal realm in better condition with more chances of survival.”

“Oh. Neat. I just thought I was dripping on his fur.”

He laughed.

A book trolley came by, and the goblin looked at one of the tomes. “Miss Orla? This is for you.”

She blinked and took the grimoire. “For me?”

“Training is broadcast. You have begun accumulating patrons.” He smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “Congratulations.”

She nodded and unlocked the grimoire, smiling at the pages. “Seasonal magic. I always wanted to carve a pumpkin with the snap of my fingers.”

Tristan laughed. “Just don’t stay up too late studying. Your call time is fairly early.”

“Dang. Well, at least when I am done, I can get back to studying.”

Her trainer smiled. “Just don’t get hit in the head.”

She wrinkled her nose and kept reading. She didn’t know how to use any of the magic, but she could definitely absorb the knowledge. She had lost access to all her magic books when she left home. She missed the ozone smell of a good grimoire. It was her constant companion until she went to bed, and she had just started winter magic. She would continue it the following day.

She got up at dawn, got dressed, and braided her hair into a thick tail. She headed to the eating area and got some oatmeal and more tea. The humans and non-humans were out in equal numbers. It had been the biggest shock when she left the family home to be in a world where everyone looked human. This was better. This was normal.

Orla finished breakfast and checked the roster. The display showed her name when she touched it and when she would fight. She couldn’t see her opponent but knew she would be up in an hour. She checked her sweater and the sword and then sat meditating until the runner came for her.

“Miss Orla, please come with me.”

She got to her feet and focused. Fight. Use the pointy end. Don’t get hit in the head.

She walked into the room filled with thousands of dulled lights.

She squared off with her opponent and fought with everything she had. The young male orc was two feet taller than she wasbut still moved awkwardly with his club and dagger. The sweater took a few solid hits, but she didn’t feel anything. Following her impulses, she ran the orc through after three minutes of sparring. He staggered back, her sword dripped blood, and the lights flickered wildly.

Her image floated, and a white circle surrounded it. She was free to go. With her sword dripping, she walked out the way she had come in, and her runner was there. He showed her where to clean up and clean her blade, and then, she was dismissed for the rest of the day. Back to the book.

Orla’s days took on the same pattern. Fight, get hit, survive, and back to the magic book. She started to make money, so she bought more books. Patrons started sending her fighting gear, so the loose shirt and trousers were put aside for snug leather. Two patrons even sent her hair clips and brushes.

Orla lost count of the fights, but she was getting better. So were her opponents. Remaining in the middle tier was what she wanted, but she was creeping up toward the edge of the high tier, and that would get her killed.

Tristan came by as she studied in a corner. “Orla, how are you feeling?”

“Good. A little sore. That ogre threw me into the wall pretty hard.”

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