A large opulent room stands tall, with three individuals standing within. The room is wide and spacious, with a rectangular structure. On the east and west sides, many large windows display other separate rooms within this estate. South is a two-sided doorway made of finely carved wood and roughly ten metres tall. To the north a wall with a portrait of a finely dressed man, wearing a black doublet and wielding a cane, looking to his left. The picture depicts a tall and dignified man with dark short hair, silver eyes and a strong curved jaw. The looks of a man in his forties.
The three people in this room are all standing in its centre. A spacious spot with one of them standing to the east. He is five feet tall, with short slit back blonde hair, green eyes and tanned skin. He is wearing a full black suit, with a popped collar. He stands off to the side, holding a small towel draped on his right wrist. The towel is pressed against his torso and he is standing next to a wheeled tray table, with a covered plate. In the centre of the room is a man and woman, furiously sparring, swords drawn.
The man lunges forth, his right-handed short sword directed at his enemy's sternum. With his feet planted in the ground, right foot behind and left foot forward. He propelled his sword towards her. The blade glides through the air, the man is revealed as Sevran, dressed in a grey finely woven tunic. The enemy he lunges against is revealed to be Yvette wielding a similar sword in both her hands, readying for the attack. She wears a similar grey tunic, fitted to her smaller size.
The blade charges forth, and Yvette standing in a similar stance holds her blade forward. Just as his blade nears her defence, she twirls her sword to the right, parrying downwards. Clashing against each other, his blade is parried to the left, away from her torso and towards the ground. Just as his blade reaches the ground, Sevran quickly shifts his to his left hand. Before she can react, he pulls his sword upwards and across her blade, towards the neck. Before it reaches, she places her front foot firmly on the ground, propelling backwards and evading.
"Very good... That was an impressive parry, but your mistake was thinking your enemy can only fight with his dominant hand. Do not assume such things, lest you want to lose a head. That also was a close one for yourself, well done on your evasion, but still a few moments late and you would be dead." Sevran critiques her fighting prowess, relaxing his posture with his sword's tip resting on the ground, like a walking stick. "Lucky these blades are dull practice swords." He further comments, lifting his blade forward and presenting it to her.
"Honest praise and thank you. I won't make that mistake again!" Yvette replies with a determined gaze, she prepares her stance once more, her blade firmly directed.
"Very well, come and attack me now." Sevran remains in his relaxed and straight posture, his sword aimed at the floor and to his side, awaiting her strike. His gaze fixed on her presence; he awaits her initial strike.
Yvette breathes in heavily, exhaling right before she launches into action. Propelling from her back foot she moves swiftly. Her blade slanted to the right, ready to attack his left side. She moves forward, her eyes gleaming with fury, attacking with all her strength. The blade nears him, he smiles just before she lands the blow. The blade glides towards him, he quickly shifts his stance sideways and sword to the left. He was blocking her blade with only one hand. "Excellent zeal of attack but still futile. Try again." He critiques again, mocking her with a slight tone of sarcasm. She snickers with annoyance, pushing her blade against his force, before pulling back to quickly strike again.
This time she parries her sword to the left, attacking his side. Her blade strikes and he easily blocks. "Have anything else to offer?" He queries, easily defending against her strike as she glides into another. Striking again and again, towards the left and right. He deflects each furious attack with ease.
The blades collide together and Yvette begins to show signs of exhaustion. Sevran remains calm as if every block required little to no effort. She steps back and launches a new attack from above. The sword descends towards Sevran, he lifts his blade and blocks. He then manoeuvres his blade around hers, in a clockwise motion. Propelling the blade out of her hands and launching it to the left. The blade barrels towards the wall, smashing against it with a loud clunk, landing on the floor.
"Exhaustion is a swordsman's greatest weakness." He states while flipping his sword around and wielding the blade pointing downwards. He lunges forward grasping her outstretched arm and sweeping her right leg with his left. As she tumbles to the floor, he presses her right arm to the ground, his knee securing her hip in place. His sword lunges just to the right of her face and plants itself on the floor. Sevran leans forward towards her face to whisper. "Remember Yvette, never fight solely with your anger. It's powerful but exhausting, fight with all the tools at your disposal, not just ferocity. The obvious strategy is always doomed to fail against an experienced enemy, that's seen it all before." Sevran leans forward as he continues to critique and teach her.
She returns his gaze showcasing a slight smile. "Okay then." She replies, lunging forward, her left arm propelling towards the nape of his neck and wrapping around it. Pulling him forward with a sudden tug, her right arm quickly joins and wraps around his neck, pulling him even closer. A shocked Sevran loses the grip on his blade as he tumbles forward.
Yvette brings her face towards them with a forceful embrace. Her eyes projecting a lustful gaze, her mouth forming a slanted smile, she presses her lips against him in a passionate kiss. They kiss for a moment; his arms begin to relax as if reciprocating her action. She then pulls her face away from him and gazes at each other in a tender moment. "What... What was that?" Sevran states with an astoundingly confused expression. His confusion was directed at her out-of-the-blue display of affection. Before he can react, she immediately plants her right foot in his pelvis. Pulling his neck downwards, she presses hard against him, they tumble backwards.
They both roll backwards now with Yvette on top and Sevran on the bottom. With this change of advantage, Sevran immediately attempts to grab her neck with his left hand. Yvette notices this and pins his arm to the ground with her left. Her right reaches behind her back and draws a dagger from a hidden sheath. The blade's sharp sound grazes aloud and she swiftly places it at his neck, lightly piercing the skin, drawing blood. "So how obvious was that?" She asks, with a devious smirk on her face, continuing to press the blade against his neck.
"Well done, that was an effective strategy. I'll admit... It caught me off guard, so I'm glad you have learned from our first lesson of the day." Sevran replies with a mild chuckle and an approving smile, before giving off a mischievous gaze.
"First lesson?" Yvette replies with a curious, yet concerned expression, growing weary of his statement.
"Yes, the first. So here is the second, never think you have won just because your knife is at their throat and there at your mercy. You have won when the hesitation of your hands becomes the fineness of the blade." His eyes grow cold, as he begins his monologue. Just before he finishes his icy statement, a sharp pain similar to a needle is felt on Yvette's right thigh.
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She turns her gaze downwards, to see a blade placed within striking distance of her femoral artery. "So, I guess we're even now, since the carriage huh." She remarks and they both smile. The tense situation suddenly devolved from raw intensity to humorous comfortability.
The situation ends and Yvette releases him from her grip. Lifts herself up to her feet, and they both ascend to standing positions, facing each other. Sevran with a straight inclined posture and Yvette with her left arm curved and placed on her hip. "Next lesson?" She states with a slight smirk if she expects there to be another.
"I guess, so we..." Before Sevran can finish his sentence, a soft voice comes from the left, where the butler was standing.
"Sevran, we need to talk." The voice emanates from a glowing stone, placed on the table just to the right of the plate. Both of their gazes turn downwards while Sevran moves over there.
"It seems you have a call, sir." The butler speaks with a polite tone, and his hand gestures to the glowing stone.
"Thank you, Jeremiah." Sevran replies coldly and then grasps the stone, raising it to his face. "Good evening, Orpheus how are you?" His voice is sarcastic, gesturing his gaze to Yvette as she moves forward to listen.
"Not very well actually... Considering someone just tried to kill me, by slicing his way through the royal estate." Orpheus replies calmly, and nonchalantly while hiding the obvious wrath burning within.
"Kill you... If someone tried to kill... Well, I shouldn't be surprised you'd call on me." Sevran replies shaking his head.
"Yes, so has your organisation put out a contract on my head or not?" Orpheus chimes in abruptly, trying to cut through all that red tape.
"Not that I have heard of, I would have informed you of course... Hmm even so who would have the courage or stupidity to take you on I wonder. Can you describe the assassin?" Sevran asks, giving a pensive look towards Yvette.
"Hmm well he was quite agile; he was able to recover from a wind spell. He wore a black hood and cloth covering his face. He could impressively transfigure himself into the mist?" Recounting his memories of the incident, he details all he can remember of the assassin.
Nodding a few times, Sevran ponders over what he has been told. "Mist? Yes, I have heard of him, you will be glad that he is not one of us, he's from a lesser organisation known as the shadow blades. The assassin which you speak is known as the phantom." Sevran quickly answers, placing the blame firmly away from his own people.
Chuckling softly over the communication stone, Orpheus shakes his head. "Shadow Blades seriously, that pitiful organisation. Sure, they once were a force to be reckoned with in the past. But now they're nothing but a bunch of amateurs, pathetic to send such poultry foes, they will pay dearly for their transgressions." He begins to monologue, his rising rage bubbling to the surface.
"Well, you're welcome for the information." Sevran states sarcastically.
"Yes, thank you. Oh, and before I go how's Yvette?" Orpheus asks with a curious tone, alerting Yvette as she moves closer.
Once nearby she leans over to speak. "I'm fine Orpheus, are you worried about me... I'm touched." Yvette interrupts with a sarcastic tone as she smiles.
Smiling at the familiar voice, Orpheus shakes his head. "I'm more worried about Sevran actually, hey Yvette have you kicked his ass yet?" Asking his question, Yvette shrugs at his words before giving a smile in return.
"Almost but I'm getting there." She replies, glancing at the object of their conversation.
"She's doing well Orpheus, she's a natural." Sevran states as he returns his gaze to her.
"Excellent, I'll bid you both farewell, I have some business to take care of and Yvette... Can't wait to see the badass I know you are." Making that statement, Yvette smiles in response before making her own.
"Of course, I will." Letting those final words hang, the two say their goodbyes.
Orpheus places the communication stone back into his belt bag and then returns his gaze to the sleeping Susanna. His eyes denote an expression of sadness and concern. He then turns back to the doorway and walks towards it. Grasping the door handle he opens the door, meeting the two guards standing in front. They both turn their gaze to see Orpheus exiting.
"Sir Orpheus is there something you need?" The guard on the left asks in a monotone voice.
"Where is his majesty I wish to speak with him?" Orpheus asks as he exits the room, shuts the door behind him and turns to face the guards.
"He is with the queen; I believe near the council room." He replies, gesturing with his right hand.
"Thank you, soldier, I will be on my way now. I want you to defend this room with your lives and no one is to bring harm, to the one within. Is that clear?" He states with a stern posture and ominous tone of voice.
"Yes, Sir." They both reply in unison, straightening their postures as a sign of respect.
"Good." Orpheus remarks, turning and leaving down the corridor. He moves halfway and lifts his right hand, twirling his fingers slightly. "Just in case." He mutters before weaving a spell. "Protego." Twirling his fingers, the spell creates a wave of energy emanating from Susanna and spreading outwards like a barrier, covering the entire room.
With the spell finished he stumbles for a moment, leaning against the corner wall for support. It was as if all his stamina had been drained, his breathing becoming heavier. With his body experiencing exhaustion, he reaches down to his belt bag, opens it and removes a mana potion. Popping the cork, he consumes half of it.
Placing the potion back into his bag, before stretching out his neck. His energy returns at a fast pace before he continues on down the corridor. "That's better." He comments under his breath as he reaches the door to the foyer. Still open he walks through, to see many soldiers guarding the area.
He pays no mind to their existence before moving along. He moves through to the other side and down the corridor to the open council room. Peering inside he notices four soldiers surrounding the room, along with Tiephinne and Lambert both standing side by side, wearing their full plate armour and swords.
The king has his hands pressed against the table, his head is slanted downwards in shame and sadness. The queen is next to him, attempting to comfort the saddened king.
"Damn it!" King Artuiel yells, lifting up and slamming his right fist on the table, causing it to shutter for a few moments. "How could this happen!" He starts ranting to himself just as queen Lysa attempts to comfort him, her left hand upon his back.
"I don't mean to intrude but we must speak your majesty." Orpheus enters the room and stands opposite them, speaking with a stern and calm voice.
"Oh, Orpheus just the man I wish to speak to. Can you explain to me what has happened and tell me everything about the bastard who attacked us." King Artuiel's voice rises as he attempts to soothe his growing anger.
Undeterred by the king's wrath, Orpheus replies. "Of course, I will tell you everything but first we have a major problem." Showing a concerned expression, his gaze tips downwards and then back up.
"What problem could be greater than one of our most trusted servants killed and another injured!" The queen chimes into the conversation with a threatening tone, her eyebrows curved in anger and an expression of contempt upon her face.
"My condolences your majesty... but the assailant has stolen my staff." He states with a cold expression, clenching his right fist at the mere mention of this.
The king’s eyes widen in recognition. "Your staff... You mean the one you used to defeat the army of goblins, that attacked our citizens?" King Artuiel's expression changes in an instant from deep sadness to shocking fear.
Nodding in affirmation, Orpheus continues. "Yes, that very one, it is a powerful magical relic. To have such destructive power in the hands of an enemy. I can't tell you what this could mean." His mere words cause everyone in the room to flash expressions of concern and fear. "But I have a plan to retrieve it. I have placed a tracking spell on the staff for such an occasion. I should be able to locate the staff and bring the culprits to you, so they can receive summary justice." His words renew the faith of all in attendance. Their spirits lift as hope endures within their hearts.
"Yes, this is indeed good news. Lambert take as many men as you see fit to aid Orpheus in tracking the assailant. I want him found and brought to me!" The king turns to his knight and delivers his command with a steely gaze.
Lambert responds with a slight nod. Turning he moves towards the doorway just past Orpheus, glaring at a soldier to the left and begins to speak. "Pierce gather some men!"
Lambert states in a commanding voice, it spurns the soldier to salute and immediately leave to fulfil the command. Orpheus stares back at the commanding stature of Sir Lambert. His piercing gaze filled with solitary rage, as if his cold facade withheld the fires of hell, bursting at the seams.