"What... What did you do to them?" Lambert questioned with a strained voice raising his sword at the accused.

The great sage places the bottle back on the bar before turning. "To be honest... I have no idea." He replies with a clueless expression, indifferent to the magical feat he had just performed.

Lambert observing the unorthodox situation immediately turns to his soldier and gives new commands. "Leave now and make haste to the barracks, we need immediate assistance, tell them we have a powerful unregistered mage to contend with!" Ordering them, the soldier reluctantly turns and leaves the establishment.

The sage's gaze turns to the doorway as the soldier leaves. His eyes squint as a wave of fear passes across his face. "Oh shit, I'm late!" He blurts out just before palming his face. Looking back at the doorway he pulls his hands to his side and begins chanting. "Subcinctus Egomet." In an instant, he vanishes without a trace. Leaving Lambert stunned as he lowers his blade, his eyes darting around the room.

The great sage suddenly reappears in the same spot just behind the bar, Lambert is left confused raising his blade once more. "Oh forgot." The sage immediately grabs the wine bottle before casting the spell with a cheeky smile, raising the bottle in a toast-like gesture. "Subcinctus Egomet." 

He vanishes, once more leaving Lambert dumbfounded, his head pans left and right in confusion. "Orpheus... Orpheus where are you!" Yelling at the top of his lungs, his gaze darting back and forth. He spots the bartender rise from behind the bar. They both return a momentary gaze at each other. An awkward air permeates the room as both are even more confused. 

As the moonlight shines in the sky emitting a solo gleam of light, illuminating the shadows of the building's rooftop. Surrounded by other nonsensical buildings of a non-decorative nature. Simple stone buildings dot the surroundings, a dirt street can be seen to the south. To the north along a shaded skyline is the capital city. The royal estate and castle are in the far distance. The night air and quiet are disturbed as a small patch of spiralling wind appears on the rooftop centre.

A moment goes by until both Orpheus and the assassin manifest out of thin air. Orpheus is still in a combat stance, his blade brought to bear, his arm stretched forward, grasping air. The assassin was still behind him, grasping his shoulder tightly, raising his blade, ready to strike.  Orpheus realising his new surroundings, flashes a confused expression, his gaze frantically looking around.

The assassin does the same, inspecting his change of circumstance. Orpheus then twists around to the assassin, slashing towards him with a backhanded strike. Anticipating this the assassin immediately jumps back to avoid the blade, landing a few feet away. "Well, this is interesting... Didn't think that little opium addict had it in him. I am impressed he managed to apport two human beings at once." Thinking to himself, revealing a slight smile, his gaze falls squarely on his current enemy. "Now to the task at hand, there must be a weakness to his little trick. I suppose I better find it, but first let's test the limits of what you can do shall we." Musing on his current situation, his internal monologue ceases and a confident air replaces it.

Staring back at him the assassin makes his blade ready, thrusting it forward. His stance manoeuvres to a right foot forward and a left foot back. Orpheus mimics his pose but with his blade arched downwards and diagonally towards the left side. Pushing back on his heel, propelling himself forward. Rushing ahead he drags his blade just above the ground in an obviously un-tactical manner, leaving his front open to attack. 

The assassin readies himself, his eyes locked and waiting for the attack. Orpheus reaches striking distance; the assassin slowly raises his blade to intercept. His sword ascends from the ground to perform a diagonal slash. With the obvious head-on attack, the assassin turns his blade to the right, blocking the incoming blade. The two blades come to a near collision.

Orpheus smiles for a moment before muttering under his breath. "Contego." Suddenly a green ethereal barrier manifests in front of him. It appears in a rectangular form, protecting his front.

The assassin's blade collides with the barrier, stalling for a moment he evaporates into a mist. His mist-like body swiftly floats around Orpheus and plants itself a few feet behind him. His body manifests as Orpheus quickly diminishes his barrier and performs a dodging roll to the right landing a metre away and turning around.

He observes the assassin appearing and dives his sword forward towards the air as if he hadn't realised that Orpheus had already moved. "Well, well, looks like someone hasn't mastered sensory magic. He can't see in his mist form... With that impressive feat of full body transfiguration, he still hasn't accounted for the basics perceptual based spell craft. Huh, amateur." His inner dialogue becomes more critical, criticising his opponent, and he muses about his next move. "Well, you had a good run... But it's time to end this." Rising to his feet sword in hand, he readies himself for the next attack.

The assassin turns to his enemy, an aggressive gaze emitting from his eyes. Grasping his blade tightly, his shoulder sharply rises, promoting his posture. His body slowly becomes mist once more, his gaseous state propels itself directly at Orpheus.

Becoming ready for the impact, the mist disappears before it meets him. "Subcinctus Egomet" Orpheus chants before vanishing, appearing a few feet to the right with his sword stretched toward the left.

The mist accumulates around the blade, manifesting into his full body. His gaze looks forward, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down to see the end of a sword sticking out of his torso, blood gushes from the wound. He gasps for air with a wheezing tone, his throat slowly getting choked up. Turning his head, he notices Orpheus grasping his sword, plunged into his back.

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Glee crosses his face as he looks up towards his work. "Didn't see that coming did you?" He states mockingly, withdrawing the blade. The assassin comes tumbling down as he turns and lands on his back. Blood gushes from the wound, pooling behind him. Standing over his dying body, he moves to his side, gazing down to speak to him. "Now if you don't want to die right here, right now. You will tell me who hired you. If you do, I'll treat your wound to the best of my ability, and you may live. But I would take this opportunity quickly as you don't have much time." Delivering his ultimatum, the assassin glares back at him, gasping for air. A few moments go by, and the wound on his chest continues to bleed.

Orpheus growing impatient, the assassin continues his silence except for a few gasps. His glare fills with frustration. "Damn it, speak or die, those are your choices!" He bellows angrily, reaching forth, he rips the cloth concealing his identity and revealing his true face. His anger vanishes at the revelation of this person's identity.

It was as if the anger never existed, his eyes became soft, and his eyebrows straighten. His grin disappears as a new emotion is born. In the wake of this, a faint memory appears, flashing across his eyes so fast, it was as if it never appeared. Three young boys in a dark and dank room. Three wooden beds poorly maintained are rowed next to each other. Other beds are seen in this dark but visually large room.

Their occupants are hazy, and it is difficult to discern their physical appearance. The room has several windows near the head of the beds, only illuminated by several candles on the windowsill. Three young boys occupy the, the one to the right is lying down on his side, under the covers and staring at the ceiling. His eyes were a bright blue with shades of hazel and his hair dark black. 

In the centre bed is a boy of similar age with green eyes, and light brown hair with the looks of a nine-year-old. He is seated on his bed facing the boy to the right. The other turns his back to him and the centre boy continues staring, hearing a faint whimper. His expression grows soft and sympathetic, observing the weeping boy beside him. His right arm stretches forward with a reluctant gesture.

The boy continues to weep slightly louder, tears begin pouring out of his eyes. The boy speaks reluctantly and softly "Are you okay?" He asks, the weeping boy neither replies nor turns around. He continues to only weep as silently as possible. 

"Leave me alone!" Suddenly the weeping boy replies, his voice all choked up with tears. 

"But your crying, my mum told me to always give someone a hug when they're sad, do you need a hug?" The boy interjects with a compassionate look in his eye. He attempts to console the crying one lying next to him. 

"No, I don't want a hug, I said leave me alone!" The weeping boy continues to rebuff his attempts to help with a more hostile tone. 

"Maybe you can tell me why your crying, I could help?" He continues to offer a helping hand despite the rebuttal. Retracting his hand to his lap, clenching them both together.

The weeping boy turns around, glaring at the one opposite him. "How can you help huh, are you going to talk my parents to life again. Are you going to bring them back with your hugs!" He yells, rage and sadness blurring together. He lifts his head from his pillow and supports himself with his right arm. 

"No, I can't bring them back, nor can I bring my mother back, by remembering her, the things she said, the things she did and the things she taught me. It's like she's alive again you know, in here." The boy explains with a smile and a gentle expression. Pointing to his right temple to emphasise his statement.

The weeping boy's tears stop flowing after hearing the words. His eyes filled with anger, slowly grow softer, and quickly he wipes his face. Staring back at him for only a moment. He rolls back over, completely rejecting any warmth given. “No... Dead is dead, no matter what you remember." He states with finality, lifting the blanket further up to his shoulder. 

"I see... Well, if you change your mind, I'm here. My name is Kyran by the way and this is Gerhart. What's your name?" Kyran gestures to another boy behind him who gives a slight wave, without showing his face. 

"I don't have a name, not anymore. So go to sleep and leave me alone!" Replying once more with a slightly aggressive tone. 

"No name huh, well I'll think of one for you if you like." He replies with a gleeful smile, his face exuding confidence and joy.

The memory soon fades to nothingness, now returning to senses. Orpheus looks down at the pale green eyes, his lips tremble, his composure now shattered as he speaks a single word. "Kyran!" Bellowing loudly with raw emotion never quite forgotten. With that devastating word, his cold and confidence facade break entirely. Overwhelmed by uncontrollable emotions coming upon him all at once. "Kyran... No Kyran, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. No, no, no!" He stumbles to get his words out. Fear and panic begin to set in, his gaze turns to the wound. Aiming both his hands he begins a chant. "Percuro Vulnere." His focus wanes under the massive emotional turmoil swirling inside.

A wave of energy emits from his hands but quickly fizzles out before becoming more prominent. His magic fails and his gaze turns to Kyran, attempting to console the man he had just stabbed. "It's going to be okay Kyran... It’s me Orpheus from the orphanage don't you remember?" He frantically questions, Kyran flashes a confused expression as if the history he speaks of is a mystery to him.

Orpheus looks down and continues his attempts to heal the wound. "Percuro Vulnere." He chants again, a wave of energy emits from his hands but fizzles out once more.

Attempting to help, Kyran's gaze becomes softer, and his life flashes before his eyes. An unfamiliar image of three young boys appears in his mind, his gaze suddenly turns to recollection.  "Orpheus... " Kyran desperately speaks in a soft wheezy voice, suddenly remembering a history long forgotten. 

"Yes, it's me, don't worry I will fix this, damn it heal!" Still frantic, all sense of confidence gone. With a soft voice leading into an aggressive tone, he chants again. "Percuro Vulnere." He attempts to heal once more, to no avail.

A smile crosses Kyran's face, and his gaze locks on Orpheus, attempting to reverse the damage he caused. His eyes fill with joy at the sight of an old friend. Soon they slowly grow cold, the light dims until gone. 

Orpheus still attempting his healing spell, turns his gaze, realising he's beyond help and no longer alive. Pushing himself away from the body, and seating himself on the ground. His hands begin to shake, before coming up to his mouth. Still, he remains, staring at the lifeless body, his expression exudes an unfamiliar sadness he had not experienced in years.

Now mourning the death, he hears footsteps behind him, as well as the clanking of armour. "Orpheus are you there!" Lambert appears behind him, relieved at finding him, he moves forward a few paces before his gaze turns to the dead assassin. "Ah Sir Orpheus you have defeated the wretched assassin, I am glad." Exclaiming, he places his hand on his shoulder.

Orpheus's expression still frantic and ashamed soon calms. Centring himself, he rises to his feet. Moving to pick up his sword and sheathe the bloodstained blade. Turning to Lambert with a cold expression, he finally speaks. "Yes, Lambert... I have defeated him." His cold gaze springs forth as if no emotion was housed within. The fear and pain that once held sway were wiped clean, leaving nothing behind.