Brushing himself off, and slowly pushing himself to his feet. He coughs lightly. “It’s a waste of time guessing at the moment. We have other things to worry about.” He gestures at the ten meter gap full of rubble, shattered glass and exploded timber.

It looks to be nearly as deep as it is long and opens into the floor below. Hard to see down there until all the dust finishes clearing though. It’s quite dark.

Moonlight filters in through the massive hole in the wall, though it is mostly clouded over.

“We will need to go around the long way. Uhh. Through the Arboretum. I don’t have the keys to the lowest levels.” He looks as if he’s genuinely considering if he could jump across.

His words are punctuated by more low rumbling. Small fragments of stone fall from the roof above.

He hesitates for a moment, and pauses to offer a gauntleted hand. I stare at it for a few seconds, before finally taking it. He effortlessly pulls me to my feet. I stare up at his slight frown.

This close, my eyes are barely level with his chest.

“Arboretum, like a plant nursery?”

He steps back. “Yes.” Pausing to bend down, he collects his odd weapon. “I shall lead the way. Please keep close.”

A few minutes further of walking through flickering torchlit halls, the knights' measured steps continue in near silence punctuated only by the rumblings and occasional bouts of dust.

Come to think of it… Cannons would probably indicate late middle ages. One would think that gunpowder would be sidelined in the face of magic though. Hmm… The magister did clarify that the gift of magic is extremely rare.

The knight has stopped at a side passage. He stands in front of a large wooden door. I can smell a mix of wood smoke and a multitude of floral scents. The seconds tick by as he stands motionless.

“Something wr-?” He raises a hand to his face and places a single finger up to his lips.

He then carefully presses into the door, making exaggerated effort towards reducing the clinking of his armor.

Caught me thinking and not really paying attention again... Quietly trudging over to the door I put my ear to it. It’s fortunate how wide the door is, or this would be rather awkward.

A muffled man's voice. “-sure that she’s here?”

Another voice with a deep rasp, like a grindstone on chalk. “Absolutely certain.”

I have a sinking suspicion I know what’s going on here… Locking eyes with the knight, I silently mouth “Who?”.

He mouths back, “Not sure”.

Well, even if you aren’t guessing I’m willing to do so.

A sharp painful ringing interrupts my listening, making me feel a sense of vertigo. I think I must be swaying a bit. A few seconds tick by, and it slowly fades.

As I return to my senses, I note the silence. The knight hasn’t said anything yet, he simply remains leaning against the door, waiting.

After a few seconds, I hear booted feet moving away from the door. I can’t tell if there’s more than two sets. They fade into distance.

The knight holds up his hand for almost a full minute until finally breathing a relieved sigh. He loosens his grip on his weapon and straightens his posture.

Stifling a cough, he clears his throat. “Lets go”. I can see a degree of concern in his eyes.

While we are walking, I decide to engage in some conversation. “So what is your name?”

“Roland.” He warily looks my way before going back to scanning the hall as we walk.

“Roland, what do you think of the Magister?”

“The Duke trusted him.” He pauses to look at me again, gauging my reaction?

“Alright… But what do you think of him?”

He frowns slightly. “Secretive. Arrogant. He seems to be nice enough... I haven’t spoken with him at length. While I do not believe he is an enemy, he has unknown intentions, and may not have the kingdom wholly in his interest.

“Hmm”. Seems about the same as my thoughts on him.

“Why would you want my opinion on him?” He shoots back.

“Curiosity mostly.” I shrug. I can’t afford to give much away. He seems to accept the shrug thankfully.

This backpack is far too heavy. The ringing noise keeps coming back throughout our walk too.

We continue for another short while until we pull up to another door.

This one is bound with flowering vines carefully carved into it. Its edges are embossed with bronze. If there is any extra significance to this, it escapes me. Though If I had to guess it’s probably our destination.

Pausing for the briefest moment Roland steps in front of me and pushes the door open. At once, the sound of insects becomes apparent. Crickets, and the occasional clicking sound. A stone path leads on into a large green space. Trees, vines and flowers of immense variety fill this space. It seems well looked after.

Stepping forwards into the room I can see it has a low stone fence and red bricked path leading deep inside. A dome of glass lets moonlight filter through the ceiling.

It is in truth, quite beautiful. I stare in shocked wonder at the riotous variety.

Glancing back, I cannot see the walls apart from the door we entered from. Ivy has completely dominated the walls.

I make a point of shutting the door behind us. My vision briefly goes a bit blurry. Starting to think I might have a concussion.

I need a rest I think.

It makes a solid *cthunk* as it closes. Roland has gone a short distance ahead.

I drop the backpack with a similarly loud *thunk* in the hopes it gets Rolands attention.

“I need to rest for a bit. I can barely see straight, much less keep up with your pace.”

Stopping, he turns to look at me. His expression saying more than any words ever could. He looks like a different sort of tired. He just nods and leans against a nearby wall.

We sit in silence for a few minutes while I catch my breath. The ground periodically shakes still.

I clear my throat to break the silence. “Do you know who those people were?”

“No.”

“Who d’ya think they might be then?”

“Might be pirates, could be mercenaries. Might be a foreign invasion. All are unlikely.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Best case of them?”

“Foreign invaders.”

I throw him a puzzled look.

He looks back at me with a grimace. “Easier to tell who the enemy is. Most predictable goals. Pirates and mercs are erratic, and significantly less likely to have breached the castle in the first place.”

O-oh. Well that’s… Something… That makes a kind of awful sort of sense.

I look at him for a little longer. How old is he really? He looks like he’s in his 20’s, but behaves far beyond his age. He shifts a bit, looking a bit uncomfortable under my gaze…

I look away before it gets weird. This blasted hair keeps getting in my face… I didn’t see anything to tie it back either.

----------------------------------------

We finish making our way through the massive paradise of botany and bugs. A similar door to the previous one bar’s our way, and is again effortlessly opened by Roland.

We walk down a short hall, and abruptly there is the scent of smoke and something else vaguely metallic.

Roland peeks around the corner, turns to me and says quietly with a slight frown. “It looks like a fight is unavoidable. Stand back and don’t draw attention.” He takes a deep breath, and calmly strides out.

His weapon begins making loud whistling sounds as he twirls the massive bladed staff in wide spiral motions.

I look at his face and see resolute calm. Or perhaps focus?

“Oi!” I hear a voice call out. “Another one of those knights.”

Another voice. “Wait, that one’s different from the others.”

“What’s that weird weapon he’s got?”

Watching from the side, I can’t see anything, until I hear a dull thump.

There’s a brief flash of sparks from Roland’s weapon that might have been an impact. A stone column to the side of the hall makes a huge shower of sparks in nearly the same moment from the impact.

A bolt skids across the floor with a loud clatter. The whole thing is smoking, as if it were hit by lightning.

Unbelievable...

“Did he just…” the man gasps. “Deflect a crossbow bolt?!” another finishes for him.

Forgetting the weight of the pack briefly, I poke my head around the corner.

Standing tall amongst a ragtag looking group of scruffy men, is an older man wearing gray robes like some sort of priest. His robes are quite plain looking aside from that.

They appear to have been in the middle of some sort of discussion, given their surprised looks. His is a scowl.

The various men are decked out in a mismatch of leathers, bits of chain and the occasional scavenged plate. The only defining feature is that absolutely none of them have any matching qualities whatsoever, let alone a uniform to speak of. They bear no obvious symbols apart from being woefully out of place in a castle like this.

They certainly don’t look like soldiers do they?

One is staring at Roland like he has 3 heads and glancing back at his weapon, a huge crossbow of some sort. I’m no expert, but damn does it look heavy. The draw strength is likely considerable...

The older priest-like looking man looks unimpressed and merely crosses his arms.

“I was wondering where you were.” grates an all too familiar voice. He smiles, the scorn in his eyes is like a palpable force.

No time is wasted trading stares, Roland steps towards the group with lethal intent and cautiousness in equal measure.

Another scruffy man steps forward and brandishes a mace at him, seemingly unsure of how to deal with the blade staff.

He goes down in an instant.

His whole hand swept from his wrist followed by a short cry of pain that ends just as abruptly as the blade staff continues cleaving through the rest of him.

I watch in transfixed horror from the unfolding violence.

No sooner did I watch him go down than the rest of them drop in similarly short order until none but the older man remains, still with his arms crossed in apparent antipathy.

It probably only took about 6 seconds in all.

Roland doesn’t even pause to let him speak further. In a single swift motion he throws a dagger from a hidden sheathe on his wrist.

A split second before arriving, a pulse of jet black energy flows forth from the man's temple, and coalesces into a solid inky black sphere of roiling force. It immediately interposes itself with the dagger.

A flash of purple light.

The dagger and it are gone, as if neither had ever existed.

Roland pauses mid-stride, apparently re-considering his next move.

He takes a single uncertain step back. The whistling dies down as he shifts his stance into one that looks similar to how a polearm would be held in preparation for a charge.

A few tense moments pass… And then a few more. They stand like this for what feels like an eternity.

Then, in a sudden flash of motion Roland brings his weapon into an overhead swing with all his might directly into the man.

There’s a massive explosion of sparks.

It becomes apparent that a similar phenomena to last time has happened, as a condensed purple mass deflects Rolands staff... But fails to erase it like the dagger.

Roland steps to the right ever so slightly, and a small mass of ominous dark energy goes whirling by. It makes a dull thud when it hits the back wall, leaving a circular indent where several centimeters of stone is simply not there any more.

The masked man hasn’t moved a muscle, nor uttered a word. He just stands there, watchful.

I take a few steps back from the scene. I… Can’t help him. I’d just make it worse by showing myself.

The ground rumbles once more, deep and long. 1...2… 3… It keeps going. I can hear the groaning of the entire castle as the building quakes.

I fall to my knees as the shaking grows more violent… Glancing down I can feel the very stone shifting under my feet ever so slightly.

At this rate it feels like parts of the castle might start collapsing on us.

I can hear the occasional clash of steel and dull thuds of an impact.

Slowly pushing myself to my feet, not in small part due to the weight of the backpack, I take another peak around the corner.

The rooms' pillars and walls are pockmarked with cuts and dents by the time I've recovered my composure. I can see the priest guy is starting to look a bit harried as he has begun to move around the room at this point.

They both are starting to look a bit tired to be honest.

… The priest has his back to me at this point, as they have been circling around the room.

I glance down at the Rapier on my hip. I don’t know a thing about how to use it, and both of those two are clearly experts. I… Should stay out of it and trust Roland. I hate feeling this helpless though.

I subconsciously let out a frustrated sigh, and immediately stiffen as it earns me the briefest of grimaces from Roland.

He goes for a low sweeping attack at the priest's legs, who simply steps back. He mutters something under his breath and draws a rolled paper from his sleeve.

“I think I've had just enough of this for now. Good of the girl for making herself known by the way. This fight grows wearisome.”

He gives an unsettling chuckle in his stone on stone voice.

Shit shit shit shit!

I take a step back.

I ditch the backpack and run as best I can… Which is not great at all. I trip at least twice, barely catching myself.

I make it about 10 metres when I see a gob of purple fly over my shoulder and flatten itself into a solid looking agglomerate of purple completely blocking the hallway.

Skidding to a stop, I turn to face him.

The now unrolled sheet of paper is glowing a deep sickly blue in one hand as he points at me with his other hand.

Not a moment too soon- I hear a wet ‘shulk’ sound as the end of a silvery blade reveals itself in his upper sternum.

He lets loose a horrible gurgling sputtering laugh. Then says something utterly incomprehensible. “See you again very soon.” he rasps, then…. Shatters.

His clothes and blood fall to the ground as the only indication he was there at all.

A few quiet seconds pass as Roland and I exchange glances.

Just how close…?

Roland just shakes his head and sighs. Reads me like a book apparently.

“Let’s go.”

I stare at the place where the strange priest had fallen, at a sudden loss for what had just occurred.

...”Do you know what he was trying to do?”

“No.” Roland answers. He turns away from me.

“Who…”

“No.” He cuts me off. His even voice raised ever so slightly.

“Why was…?”

“Please. Let’s just go. There may be more of them.” He says more quietly.

At this point he’s grabbed my backpack despite my earlier protests. He easily hefts it as if it were a paperweight.

And, almost immediately upon re-entering the place after so much fighting i’m shocked to see…

No bodies there at all. None.

Just drying blood covering the floor as if someone broke a wine cask. Weapons and clothes are scattered too.

My stomach turns over at the smell and sight of it, but I manage to stifle it. I’ve never seen so much blood.

Roland just walks past all of it, still occasionally checking that I am keeping up.

I follow behind him almost 5 metres back. We walk a short distance down the hall for a few more minutes.

Magic… Assassins… Knights. It would all be incredible if only I actually knew a lick of what’s going on.

My vision suddenly lurches, dark edges creeping inwards.

My whole body suddenly feels weak and I sink to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

I don’t even feel myself hit the ground.

The last thing I see before everything goes black is what I think might be Rolands greaves as he bends over me.