"Landry!" One of the foppish nobles fell to a knee by the downed man, his startled call was the only sound that filled the previously rowdy room.
Keir admitted to himself that, perhaps he had committed a social faux pas, by striking the blonde man, Landry he supposed, before announcing a duel. A thought that was reinforced by the growing outrage in the faces of the surrounding aristocrats, and by the weary looks that both Hala and Lirian now wore.
Clearing his throat, Lirian stood from his stool at the bar. Attempting to steer the situation back to the plan, he began.
"Ah, it seems the enthusiasm of my unknown benefactor has caused him to skip the expected formalities of noble duels." Lirian stepped up to Keir and extended a hand. "I am Prince Lirian Astarion. A pleasure to meet you."
"O-oh, likewise." Keir tried. Even though he thought it was somewhat strange to make introductions over the prone form of a downed man, he played along. Entering the conversation, Hala, who had been quietly talking with Leena at the bar, approached.
"I am Lady Hala Nehr, allow me to introduce my brutish companion here, as he seems to have forgotten. This is Lord Keir Lambent, son of Baron Mikhael Lambent.
"Lambent?" A now red-faced member of the noble group shouted in surprise. "Old man Lambent has no sons."
"Evidently, he does." Lirian countered, lazily gesturing at Keir with an expression of profound condescension.
"Enough!" The man previously referred to as Gessop found his voice, and faced Keir, a hand gripped to the fine rapier at his waist. "I don't care who you are, you have injured the son of a count. You are a mannerless dog and I will put you down in my friend's place. Draw your blade, we duel!"
Despite Gessop's words, his friends began to circle Keir. Clearly, they had no intention of allowing for a one-on-one fight. They each pulled richly decorated weapons from their waists. One fool struggled to free a sword that he had strapped to his back.
Keir, not fully sure how to proceed in this situation that he'd made for himself, looked to Hala for guidance. Upon meeting Keir's eyes, Hala pointed her chin at the door.
Inhaling a deep breath, Keir held it for a moment, then while expelling an explosive breath, whipped his shortsword from its sheathe. All the young nobles, as if choreographed, hopped back a step, not honestly prepared to engage in the violence they themselves threatened. Ignoring everyone, Keir purposefully marched for the exit as the young men back-peddled to avoid him.
As his boots touched the cobbles outside The Fox, Keir felt the bracing touch of night air. The sun had apparently set in the short time he'd spent in the inn. Moonlamps had been lit along the city streets. On the few occasions Keir had visited places opulent enough to afford moonlamps, he had thought that their pale shine gave the world a pleasing, ethereal glow. For whatever reason he found the effect oddly comforting. It was because of this idle thought, that Keir, after walking a small way from the inn, into a nearby alley, smiled placidly as he turned to face his quickly sobering opponents.
The four boys, including Gessop moved to reform their encirclement of Keir. They were not masters of subtlety, and the action was quite obvious. Still though, there was hesitation from them, they talked a big game, but seemed unsure how to proceed. Keir suspected that they had very little experience actually wielding their weapons, if any. Beginning to pity his opponents somewhat, Keir raised his offhand, palm out in a placating gesture.
"I think you've made your point, lads. No one's watching here, you can pretend you defended your honour and whatnot. No need for actual bloodshed on such a fine night, eh? We'll go grab your man from inside and be on our separate ways. You can even pretend to have given me a beating, if it makes you feel better." Keir hoped he could convince them, but calming tensions was never really his strong suit.
Contrary to Keir's hopes, his words seemed only to embolden three of the nobles. Gessop on the other hand seemed infuriated at the prospect of letting the whole business rest.
"You craven dog! That you imagine we will allow you to leave this place unscathed after your insolence, is stunning." He screeched.
"Hah! Lambent's boys a coward like his father." Said the uncharacteristically ugly noble, that Keir mentally labelled Unibrow, for obvious reasons.
"Blood runs true, it seems." Agreed another, that Keir dubbed glasses. Keir was a little amused by the way these boys hoped to taunt him, by insulting a man he had never met.
"And now the poor hermit will be deprived of his heir. How terribly sad." The final boy, that Keir called Red, sneered. In all of this, the only truly distressing part to Keir, was his own terribly unoriginal naming sense.
Realising that he had not, it would seem, improved his diplomacy skills over the last few months, Keir called to Lirian, who had trailed behind the group, along with Hala.
"Good prince, I'm afraid I'm...uh, unaccustomed to culture, here at the capital." Keir started, still trying to act as though he did not know Lirian, and struggling to maintain an aristocratic manner of speech. "Could you enlighten me as to how I ought to behave in this situation?"
"Of course, my new friend, it is quite simple. Do not kill them, try to avoid any crippling injuries." Lirian replied matter-of-factly, with a courteous smile.
Noticing Keir's apparent lack of attention, Gessop's face twisted in cruel satisfaction at the power he seemed to think he held.
"Now! See this coward slain!" He shrieked.
In the moment between Gessop's command, and the coming violence, Keir allowed himself to fall into his own mind. Keir's ability to wield Vision magic was basically not existent, unlike the prince, as he could not direct the flow of Mana to his eyes. What Keir had learned over years of practice however, is that he could use the meagre traces of ambient Mana that existed in all things, filled the air and that already floated around his eyes, to use a kind of pseudo-Vision. Any truly skilled mage could deceive such crude magic, but Keir strongly doubted the people before him could be called as such.
Time seemed to crawl to a near stop and he appraised his enemies, Keir was not surprised to see that none of them had a particularly large pool of Mana to draw from. What supply of power they did have, drifted loosely away from their bodies, demonstrating an almost complete lack of control. Keir doubted that, if the noble drunks were even able to cast a single spell between the four of them, it would be so weak as do him little harm.
The plain ineptitude of the foes before him, caused a sliver of icy hate to worm its way into Keir's soul. These idiot children were so quick to follow him here. To an alley, where the names of their mighty families could not protect them. When he had called for a duel earlier, he had planned for a test of skill or some other such nonsense, something safe. But these feeble little things, that despite their similar ages, knew so little of the world, of its terrors. They reached for weapons? For tools of war? Of killing. Did they not know how easily a person might die once a blade was drawn? And for what? Wounded pride. It was ridiculous. Keir wouldn't allow himself to be killed here, after all he had endured, for a rich child's petty ego.
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Keir felt his decision as he made it, and he heard his soul's whispered assent. He would make attempts to leave his enemies alive. But if they died? They were such small things, barely worthy of notice, was he expected to mourn the dying of grass beneath his feet?
Keir's mind shuddered as he considered the direction of his thoughts. The alien, yet familiar notions caused him to falter badly enough that he lost hold of his Vision, and time around him resumed its normal pace.
Unibrow and Red came at once, both lunging with their rapiers at Keir's chest. With his left hand, Keir grabbed at Unibrow's wrist and yanked the man between himself and Red, then wrenched the arm up and behind Unibrow's back and used the poor man as a shield. In that moment, Glasses approached from behind, jabbing at the back of Keir's head. Anticipating the attack, Keir jerked his head to the side, avoiding the point, then threw the elbow of his sword-arm into Glasses' face. Keir felt a satisfying crunch, and Glasses fell to his knees clutching his shattered nose.
With one enemy down, Keir refocused on the men in front of him. He still held onto Unibrow's arm while Red was trying to shift around his friend to attack. Gessop hovered some way away, obviously having no intention of jumping in any time soon.
In a sudden vicious swing, Keir slashed at Red's hand. unprepared for the strike, the ring and pinkie fingers of Red's sword hand flopped to the ground an instant later, and he recoiled, screaming.
Finally, Keir stomped the back of Unibrow's knees, forcing him to fall, then raised a foot and mercilessly kicked the back of the boy's head. With the force of the blow, Unibrow's head rocketed forward and his face slapped into the cobbles of the alley.
The sound of skull meeting stone was accompanied by a horrified yip from Gessop, who was at that moment attempting to press his back through the wall of the building behind him. As soon as Keir turned his way, Gessop threw his sword blindly and scrambled away, leaving his companions groaning on the ground. The sword clattered harmlessly on the paving, and in no more than twenty seconds, the fight was done.
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"My, how exciting." Lirian said cheerfully, approaching Keir, who's back was turned. As the prince rounded Keir and saw his face, he faltered. There was an emptiness there that Lirian had not seen in the man prior to this. While Keir's monstrous Mana remained untapped, his expression alone exuded an aura of dread. This pressure was not caused by a sense of seething rage, as one might expect, but by the utter detachment in Keir's eyes. Lirian felt that in that moment, the mercenary could snuff out his life, as he might an ant, and with just as little care.
The illusion was shattered, when Hala, as she was wont to do, slapped Keir over the head. Lirian held his breath for a moment, thinking that this new man in front of him might react violently to any perceived threat, but when his eyes found Keir's face again, he saw the same lazy cheeriness he recognised.
"Well, Prince Lirian. I suppose I should make sure the young lords don't bleed to death on the street. Could I ask for your help?" Keir asked, then began rummaging through a pouch at his hip.
"Oh?" the prince asked confusedly. But upon assessing the situation, he found that of the attackers, only the redheaded Viro, remained completely conscious. Seeing the problem, he replied. "Oh yes, of course. I'll just, um."
Then the prince walked over to the bespectacled Carmine whose bell had been rung quite badly, and seeing that the will to fight had fled him, struggled to drag the man to his feet and began leading him back to the Furtive Fox.
"Come along, Carmine. Oh my, it seems your glasses are quite broken. Let us endeavour to avoid errant elbows in future, eh?" Lirian prodded as he shepherded his charge away.
Hala, simply hauled the homely young lord, Tiernon, up onto her shoulder, then caught up to Lirian with the limp man's head dangling at her waist.
As Lirian left the scene, he was reminded of his first meeting with Keir, he had been shaken that time as well. But with a very different kind of fear. He had kept the ordeal to himself all this time. In part, because this allowed him to live in a world where he had imagined the whole thing. But the prince knew, in the pit of his stomach, that his eyes had not lied. That his ears heard true. He remembered what had been whispered. And as he stepped through the threshold into the sweltering inn, it was not the heat that caused sweat to form on his brow.
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Keir fished Red's detached fingers from the ground, then knelt down by him and produced a small bottle and some gauze. First packaging the fingers, so as not to lose them, Keir slipped them into a pocket on Red's waistcoat, then without asking lifted the noble's hand.
"This will hurt. A lot. Grit your teeth." Saying nothing more, Keir splashed some alcohol onto the stumps of Red's hand, then, despite his wailing and thrashing, wrapped them with gauze.
"You're local, yes? You know a good healer?" Keir asked, and after receiving a shaky nod from the pain-stricken redhead, continued. "Good, providing they see you in the next few hours, you'll get to keep the fingers."
After a few ragged breaths, Red regained some of his composure and rose to his feet. Then the two remaining in the alley began trudging back to the inn.
"I'm sure Leena, that's innkeeper's name by the way, can send for the healer if you tell her their name. Oh, speaking of, I'm Keir Lambent, good to meet you"
"I heard your name earlier." Red responded, understandably testily. Still gripping his bandaged stumps. "I am Viro Franz, son of Baron Vero Franz. I will not lie and say it has been a pleasure."
"Tell me something then, Viro son of Vero." Keir smirked, almost admiring Viro's father for his laziness when naming his son. "I admit that I am not a regular at court and have not seen many duels. But is it common practice for duellists to disarm themselves and flee mid-bout?"
"It. Is. Not." Viro stated darkly.
"Oh dear, oh dear. Poor Gessop, what a gaff" Keir grinned. "Do you suppose all this might cause him some embarrassment?"
"So long as I have air in my lungs to speak, I'll not let him forget."
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After seeing to the injured, apologising to Leena for the disturbance, and an overly-loud offer of temporary housing from Lirian, for the crowd’s sake, Keir and his companions hopped into the prince's carriage.
"To my home." Lirian told the driver, before clambering inside and closing the door. As soon as he was sealed off from the view of others, the prince burst out in a fit of laughter. "I challenge you to a duel, you said! Hahahaha! To his unconscious body! What were you expecting him to- Hahahaha!" He broke off, unable to finish.
After a moment of pressing her lips together, Hala joined in. Keir slumped against the wall of the carriage, one hand over his eyes, a slight blush on his cheeks.
The sound of good-natured mockery leaked from the carriage, as it rolled along the road to Lirian's mansion
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The following morning, Keir trudged down the grand staircase of Lirian's home. Having arrived quite late the previous night, the group had no time for a tour and, after being quickly shown to their rooms by the prince himself, they passed out.
In the revealing morning light, Keir now noticed that no staff wandered the halls of the mansion, save for a single guard at the front door, that Keir passed as he searched for the kitchen. This struck him as strange, but then he couldn't speak with authority on how nobles kept their homes.
Keir could smell the alluring scent of breakfast meats, and following his nose, came to an open door not far from the foyer. He heard Hala's laughter from inside, and rounded the doorway. Before him, he saw Hala slouched on a barstool at the counter, her head resting in one hand, while Prince Lirian Astarion, stood at a stovetop wearing a dirty apron and brandishing a spatula. Bacon sizzled in a one pan, and Lirian flipped pancakes high into the air from another, eliciting a whoop from Hala. Keir got the impression the two had been chatting for a while, and he regretted having to interrupt, but his stomach held the reigns at this time.
"Morning, you two." Keir said nonchalantly, and plopped down on a stool next to Hala, receiving friendly greetings from both. "So, you can cook? Can't say I expected that."
"Yes, well, we bachelors must learn such things when we strike out on our own." Lirian announced while turning the bacon.
"Huh?" Keir replied eloquently, and received a nudge from Hala.
"Mansion's for show. No staff and no guards when he isn't traveling." She said under her breath, but Lirian clearly heard.
"My dear father does not want to spend coin on the black sheep, but still, a prince living in a hovel would shame the royal family. " Lirian explained, and transferred the pancakes on to three plates. "Hence, a big, shiny mansion with nothing inside. A rather fitting metaphor for the state of the aristocracy actually, if a little on the nose."
"So, on top of being a shitty dad, the King's also strangely petty? As a citizen, I have to say that's disappointing." Keir mused, and Hala nodded along.
Finishing up, plating the groups breakfast, Lirian pulled cutlery from a nearby drawer and sat at the counter, with the others.
"A sentiment I share." He smiled as Hala and Keir began to devour the meal. "Which brings me to our business for the day. I took the liberty of registering all three of us for the upcoming semester some time before we met, so I have no concerns on that front. Beyond that, I visited a local tailor before heading to the inn yesterday, and uniforms in your sizes will be arriving shortly."
"You know my size, do you?" Hala quirked a brow, a laugh in her voice.
Lirian flashed his teeth cheekily, but didn't respond to that, instead moving on.
"After breakfast, we will finally head to the Academy grounds. My understanding is, that the first day entails a short speech from the headmaster. Then the students break up into their individual classes for introductions." The prince explained.
"Won't that be a problem for us? Can't protect you if we're separated." Keir asked through a mouthful of bacon.
"Nope." Hala chuckled. "By a 'fortunate twist of fate', we all ended up in the same class." She scoffed, while pointing a fork at Lirian.
"Really got it all together, don't you Highness?" Keir thumped Lirian on the shoulder. "Makes me wonder what we're even supposed to do."
"What you do best!" The prince beamed. "Appalling acts of physical violence, as and when the need arises."