Faust glared at the trio, they weren’t armor clad warriors by any stretch of the imagination. They wore dark hoods and cloaks meant to hide them in the darkness, no metal armor to make a sound to alert the unwary or cause the sleepy to stir to alarm.
They were assassins. ‘How many made it into the palace?!’ Faust wondered with horror, that question though, could be answered later. It didn’t take a genius to know who sent them. ‘Auxkos bastards…’ He thought as the trio charged, they hadn’t expected to encounter a knight in full armor.
It was then that Faust found an important lesson. Two of them, really.
The first was that expectations were often visual, they clearly expected only the most knightly maneuvers, focused mostly on sword work, a slash they could avoid before getting in close where daggers were more useful.
The second lesson?
Was that wearing no armor to speak of meant that the invaders also neglected to properly protect their groins.
Faust brought his foot up and landed a blow squarely in the balls of the first of the trio to come in close, sending him toppling down to the ground, gasping, gurgling, letting out some sort of muffled cry that wasn’t really anything like ‘words’. Just noises while he was all but incapacitated… before Faust’s sword flicked out in one smooth motion to cut open the assassin’s throat and spill his blood on the floor, ending his pain in some perversion of mercy.
The two remaining figures narrowed their eyes and spread out, intending to surround the bodyguard who blocked the door. Behind him, Faust could hear the noise of furniture moving around, and down the hall he could hear the sounds of the struggle against whatever number of intruders remained. ‘There couldn’t be that many, at least.’ He thought, or rather, hoped. What was worse though, he’d learned much from his teacher in the royal house. ‘Auxkos has one rule. Victory. If you see a dozen in one place, there is always one in hiding that you don’t see, and that’s the one they intend to kill you.’
He saw the faint glow come over the bodies of the assassins, it was brief, but they had activated whatever martial arts they knew. [Limit break] He muttered, activating his own to allow his body to rise beyond its limits.
They rushed forward, their feet silent in soft, padded shoes, their daggers were fast, the long straight blades ending in needle points, stiletto blades meant to finish their targets with quick and precise strikes.
Excellent for pinpoint accuracy against a helpless foe, and capable of bringing down even a knight if they got to the chinks in the armor. However…
Faust did not fight like a pure knight, his mailed fist batted a blade away, striking the bearer at the wrist, his heavy strike cracked the bone beneath, and as he moved he turned on his heel, his other foot came up, out, and struck the assassin in the sternum, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Before the first could recover, Faust switched hands with the sword and brought it down from above at the same rate his foot returned to the ground. He clove the wounded assassin between neck and shoulder, then turned, grabbed the second winded man by the hood and yanked him face first down to the ground.
Faust came down with the man, and a sickening crunch of bone and breaking teeth brought a heaving gasp from the wordless killer. ‘In the past I would have captured him, interrogated him, but there’s nothing we need to know, and we can’t afford to feed him, besides, what if he escapes and comes for the Princess again?’ He rose, stood over the would-be murderer, brought his sword up, and then brought it down with both hands. The blade pierced the cloak, went through the flesh of the unfortunate bastard’s back, and pierced his lungs through and through, the blade embedding itself in the stone floor.
Then it was over. There was still the sound of fighting elsewhere, but it was dying down as the assassins were hunted and captured, or defeated and killed. How many of their targets they’d managed to eliminate was anyone’s guess for now, but Faust peered into the dim light where flames were already being slowly doused by servants, and knew one thing for sure. ‘Nobody got anywhere near my Princess.’ And that was satisfactory in his own eyes.
“Princess, I’ll remain on guard out here, just in case.” He said, just loud enough for her to hear within, “Don’t come out.”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
“Alright, Faust, whatever you think best.” She answered within.
----------------------------------------
Inside the royal bedchamber, Deirdre wanted to giggle. It would have been wholly inappropriate, and broken her character, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to. She squeezed her hand a little tighter, the assassin that attempted to sneak in through the upper floor window, having climbed dozens of floors to find his end, gasped for breath in her grip.
She drew his hood back to reveal the face of a youngish male, someone about Faust’s own age and build. He even looked a little like her precious Faust. This did not inspire merciful thoughts. She glared at him, his shattered hands came up and despite the broken fingers, he tried to claw at her hand.
“I can’t very well let you go now, can I?” She whispered, drawing her lips close to his ears. “No, you might run off to tell your master you failed. But if I kill you, my precious Faust will have questions, so many questions. How did his beautiful Princess, a girl who has never held a weapon, defeat a trained killer while he was armed and she had only her bare hands? No, that might ruin his view of me. I would be tainted by death. Tainted by strength. He’d feel utterly useless to me. Weak…he might even leave, thinking he’s holding me back… I can’t have that, can I?” She asked. When he didn’t answer her, she shook him like a rag doll and then repeated while he clawed at her fingers, “Can I?!”
The assassin shook his head, his mouth opened in a desperate attempt to suck in more air, revealing that he had no tongue.
Her fangs emerged and she forced him down to his knees, his fingers desperately grabbed at her digits, but he accomplished nothing. The nails popped free of his fingers as the Princess’s own vampire claws slowly emerged and dug into his flesh.
“I’m not strong enough yet to make a subordinate vampire. But if you don’t have to last long, I suppose… look into my eyes.”
She slipped her ring free, revealing the blood red gaze of a vampire, [Domination] she used the natural skill of her kind, and the light left his eyes. His resistance was gone. His body went slack and Deirdre relaxed her grip. She went to her bed and took up her crown, then looked down at her body, ‘At least I wasn’t naked… but even so, only my Faust was meant to see me like this…’
She held out her crown to the dominated figure, placing it into his hands and closing his fingers around it. “Leave. Climb back down the way you came, run back to your master, and when you’re in sight of the camp of your master, but before they see you, pluck your eyes out. That’s the least punishment you deserve for looking at what you should not. Then stab yourself in the kidney and die where you stand. If you can’t get close enough before this wears off, do it wherever you are. Am I understood?”
The limp shell of a man who had become her puppet, nodded his head in silence.
“Go.” She whispered the order, and watched as he carried out her orders. The skills of a relatively novice vampire like her were limited in scope, she probably had only a few hours of control over even just one man. But it would be enough, they would find his body, and the crown of the Princess, then assume he succeeded.
In all probability it would be days or even weeks before they concluded that she was alive. And that’s if they ever figured it out.
The exceptional hearing she possessed informed her that the fighting was all but done, within minutes, if not sooner, it would be over.
She smiled, retracting her fangs again, and watched as the body scurried away in shadows, her eyes tracked him until obstacles intervened, and she then quietly closed the window. Just as it clicked shut, she heard her door open behind her and Faust’s footsteps come in.
She hastily slipped her ring back into place and turned around to greet him with open arms.
“Princess, you shouldn’t have the window open, what if somebody snuck in?” He said and staggered back a surprising step as she flung herself into his arms, pressing her head against his armor.
“Faust! You’re not hurt are you?!” She demanded to know, and sighed as his hands touched her shoulders.
“No… no I’m fine, Princess.” He said, even without looking, she knew he blushed at her affection. “There were only three, and they were better killers than fighters.” He said, and though he tried to keep his voice nonchalant, the truth is, his heart was racing as if he’d run a league in full armor.
“Are you alright, you’re not frightened, are you?” He asked, she wasn’t shaking, so the question was redundant. More a matter of consideration than anything. ‘She’s as brave as a lioness.’ He thought with pride of her resolve, and even while people died within her own home, she would not waver.
“No, it’s fine. If the danger is past, then we should go find out how bad it was. If there are wounded, I should visit them while we wait for clerics to arrive. They fell protecting us all, the least I can do is say thank you.” She gave him her charming, winning smile, and watched his puppy dog eyes fill with the devotion to which she was unwaveringly addicted.
“Then… yes, let’s go.” He said, “Just please, stay close where I can protect you.” Faust said as he yielded, when her mind was made up, there was no dissuading her, but at least he could get her to compromise for her safety’s sake, that was victory in and of itself.