"Not this time, old hag!" a voice of hope crackled out of the depths of the building. "I've warned you before. But I believe it's time that you succumb to the hands of unbiased justice."
Puzzling every other occupant in the room, a large shadowy figure rolled out like a bear performing ninja techniques. Its target - Lady Marveno.
"Tabléyét!" the frenzied fortune teller gasped. Her entire nervous system suffered a thunderstorm of confusion, anger and angst. The irises of her eyes spun like a circular saw, triggered by the air of overloaded tension.
As if time had been slowed down, the hooded mercenary ambushed the commotion. Smelling of burnt roses, his cloak bloated out what little light was pouring out from the chandelier above. His fast-moving hands, gloved in black metal, seized the flying knife before it almost impaled S'Awira's heart, tampering with its trajectory mid-flight. The dagger safely lodged itself into a wall.
Anothor rammed into the elf girl in vain. His body contacted hers accidentally and slid out into the balcony.
"S'Awira!" her husband yelled. Wishing to reunite with her, he was still cautious about Marveno's unidentified range of spells. His business with Marveno was forfeit already. Escaping was the final task remaining for him and his wife. But he didn't wish to try any leaps of faith; he needed to undertake only the actions with a high probability of survival.
E'Norm collapsed to the ground out of exhaustion.
Only Tabléyét and L'Esson stood within reasonable proximity to interact with Lady Marveno. Their aura of vengeful fury clashing with the opposing elf's personal wrath. Their breaths freed fragments of their spirit. The spirit of good.
Two against one.
Weapons against magic.
"I... I'm sorry, mistress," Anothor apologized immediately. "I was about to stop the knife. Don't remember what happened. But... Uh... S'Awira? S'Awira!"
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S'Awira had ejected her consciousness from the intensity of too many stressful activities gnawing at her mind, squeezed in such a short packet of time. Her fainted body lay like a soulless doll resting on the relatively rough flooring of the balcony. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, her eyelids were shut.
'Ah, even when you're not responsive to my words, your grace shelters your beauty so perfectly,' Anothor stepped away from her, resisting multiple desires. Envy crawled behind his ears. Lust tried to cover his eyes. 'I keep forgetting I'm no longer L'Esson. It’s sad. Sad that I cannot snatch away his rights nor his life. Both would motivate you to weep. I wouldn’t want that, o queen of my dreams.'
He sighed, contemplating on the short-lived frame of time he had spent with her at the first encounter, back when he was still in possession of her husband's body.
Meanwhile, the tides of battle met at their epicenter.
The weapon Tabléyét wielded was no ordinary one.
Marveno wasn't fearful anymore.
"So you finally broke your own contract?" the magic caster justly accused. "Do you know its consequences on your career? Your entire life's work?"
"You're a bad bitch, you know that Marveno?" the bounty hunter shifted his cape over his shoulder. "My life is my own to command. The gods will grow old before they fully list every sin, every crime and every curse you've injected into lives both guilty and innocent!"
"Truth is already walking on your lips, little bear," she mocked him with irony. "But yet, you refuse to guide it in the right direction."
Tabléyét paused, aligning his weapon parallel to his field of vision.
"I no longer believe in truth, old friend," Tabléyét confessed, his mask hiding away his emotions and disguising his intentions. "Not if truth is the reason behind peoples' suffering."
"So you abandoned your profession to become a saint? Ditching gold for bold? A pleasantly funny decision," Marveno passively prepared a new spell. "From someone who's about to go missing forever!"
Anothor entered the room just in time to witness the climax of a fiery argument. But his gifted eyes saw something which the others present couldn't. He rushed into the line of fire.