Claus rides a brown horse, the first beast he found available in the stables. The strongest man in the kingdom—if you took away his flashy golden helmet—would look like a simple squire next to the knight riding to his left on a white mare. Axiel wears ornamental scarlet armor, a style rich in lines and reliefs that matches his weapon of choice: a white steel rapier with a hilt resembling a rose.
It is attractive armor, ideal for a handsome young man with golden hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and a confident smile always adorning his expression. Although Claus is the strongest man in the kingdom, Axiel is the most acclaimed by the people, especially by young women of marriageable age. Fame follows strength, hence his well-deserved place as King Marc's second sword. If you were to ask any of Axiel's admirers, they would tell you it is only a matter of time before he surpasses Claus.
Both men were talking, Axiel focused on the road, Claus looking up at the blue sky with his usual carefree demeanor. Neither seems to notice the shadow lurking in the bushes. The elf smiles and draws his bow, ready to fire. Marcus, seeing this, reacts on instinct; he leaps from the tree and tackles the assassin.
The arrow is accidentally released by the assassin's fingers. The projectile whistles. Claus and Axiel snap their gazes toward the noise. The arrow grazes the First Captain's cheek, drawing a few drops of blood before getting lost in the undergrowth behind them.
Marcus and the elf roll and struggle in the bushes. The human is stronger, but the assassin's flexibility is superior. Moreover, the studded leather armor beneath the cloak is coated in oils whose primary function is to minimize noise during movement, but also allows for an easier escape from a grapple.
The elf slips out from under Marcus, rises with a graceful spin, and with a leap, vanishes into the trees. Marcus gets to his feet much more clumsily, watching the assassin become a distant silhouette. Panic seizes the soldier, who without a second thought, calls out a word of power.
"[Max Power]!"
Technique: Max Power.
Requirement: None.
Cost: 20 Ki.
Description: Doubles the user's physical strength for 60 seconds.
Warning: A healthy physical condition is recommended to withstand this technique.
The soldier channels his inner ki, just as Captain Lynel taught him. His veins and muscles bulge. Blood rushes to his head, and his vision blurs. Marcus takes a deep breath, mediating between his haste and the need to use the technique correctly. As soon as the fog in his vision clears, the soldier stomps hard, launching himself forward like a cannonball.
Branches snap. Splinters of wood fly from the trunks as they are grazed by Marcus's blurred figure.
The elf reaches a small clearing in the woods. Concealed on the edge of a stream, there is a half-meter-wide opening leading to a dark subterranean route that descends into the Underdark. An adult human might have trouble fitting through, but elves are generally more slender than humans.
The hooded figure is about to flee when Marcus lands two meters ahead of him, splashing water from the stream. The assassin covers his face with his forearm to avoid getting splashed and jumps back about five steps.
Marcus wields his sword with both hands.
"Drop the bow and surrender!"
The elf's expression sours at the demand, though it doesn't take even two seconds for him to shoot Marcus a mocking smile. Instead of obeying, the elf reaches to the small of his back, beneath his cloak, and pulls a new plenilunium arrow from his quiver. The assassin's movements are calm, confident.
"You should have attacked me from behind, rookie."
"Who are you calling a rookie?! And a knight never attacks from behind!"
"You're not a knight; you're something of a much lower caste, a soldier. And besides, to us, that nonsense you all crow about—honor—disgusts us. But at least we can take advantage of your stupidity."
Marcus, furious at such words, propels himself forward with his sword raised high, determined to end the encounter in a single strike. He has to hurry; he knows that in a few seconds his strength will drain, and he will start paying the toll.
The blade comes down, cleaving the elf's figure from the crown of his head. A flash of victory crosses Marcus's eyes, but it vanishes instantly when the blade swings down without meeting any resistance, and the elf darkens and fades away like a mirage.
The sword strikes the earth. The 60 seconds of [Max Power] expire, and Marcus's muscles shrink back to their original size, leaving him drenched in sweat and exhaustion. Panting, he frees his sword from the ground and frantically scans for the elf's figure.
"Show yourself, coward!" Marcus demands.
The assassin's voice echoes from all directions through the trees.
"The graveyard is full of brave men. Now you will join that long list for meddling in my mission. Tremble, human, for you are fighting one of the Seven Fingers of Zerom."
The Seven Fingers of Zerom. The name doesn't ring a bell to Marcus, but it is the most infamous group of assassins in dark elf society.
Zerom was a skilled archer, and also the favorite lover of a former Grand Matriarch. But one day, when she caught him trying to steal her jewels, the Matriarch had no choice but to punish him. Rather than torturing and killing him as was customary, the Matriarch had a fondness for Zerom, so instead she ordered seven of his fingers cut off with a cursed knife, and then had him thrown into an alley. Crippled, unable to use a bow or please a new mistress, the Matriarch expected Zerom to slowly rot in misery. Instead, the elf began to weave a conspiracy, using the secrets he had gathered while in the Matriarch's service and bedchamber to plot her downfall.
In truth, Zerom's goal was to completely destroy the matriarchal system that had ruled the dark elves for millennia and crown himself king. He succeeded in dethroning the Matriarch and walled her up within the parliament, where she starved to death. But five years later, as is often the case with all revolutions, it ended up devouring its children, and Zerom's reign met an early end at the hands of the current Grand Matriarch and her allies.
Despite the failure, it is theorized that remnants of Zerom's crusade remain hidden underground—dissent, secret projects, perhaps reforms to increase the rights of male elves, or even a second revolution. Although there is no reliable proof that The Seven Fingers of Zerom are directly linked to that first revolution, the elves prefer to ignore the connection and simply hire their services. The Seven Fingers are top-tier assassins, and since all members of the group remain strictly underground, they run no risk of being punished for using a dead traitor's name.
A hooded shadow appears. Marcus braces himself to attack, but hesitates and pulls his sword back when dozens of copies, pitch-black as shadows, surround him on all flanks with drawn bows aimed right at him.
"Illusions?" Marcus mutters, unable to believe his eyes.
"You can think that if you want. It's a comfort your mother won't have when she receives a riddled mass of flesh to bury."
Marcus pales and takes a step back. He tries to use [Max Power] again despite the risks, but his heart is too unsettled for it, and he only manages to double over in pain.
Before the 44 bows can fire and end Marcus's life, a shower of flower petals falls over the stream. Marcus, the elf, and his copies all turn their faces up toward the rose fragments. Now it is the assassin's face that twists in panic.
The petals are driven by a sudden breeze, so strong that Marcus squeezes his eyes shut. The flowers, acting like a storm of whistling blades, slice through the shadow copies by the thousands, making them vanish one by one until only the assassin remains, trapped inside a floral tornado. The slightest movement from the elf results in a dozen cuts across his arms and legs.
Axiel walks out from the trees. Marcus's expression lights up with hope. The Second Captain smiles at the soldier.
"Good job, soldier. I'll tell Hilda to grant you some well-deserved rest," Axiel says. He then turns his gaze to the elf, his expression hardening.
"Bastard, you'll pay for this!" the assassin spits, readying his bow. But instead of aiming at Axiel—as if aware he stands no chance against him—he aims at the sky and mutters a word of power. The bowstring twangs and the projectile shoots away, vanishing into space within a shadowy tear.
Axiel raises an eyebrow, confused by the action, but he isn't fazed. With an elegant flick of his wrist, he commands the petals.
Thousands of tiny blades accelerate, tightening their radius around the elf, drawing out loud screams that cease the moment they converge into a tornado barely half a meter wide. With another wave of his hand, the petals scatter and fade away. Where the elf stood, only a bloodstain remains.
Marcus is left with his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. As soon as he gets over the sheer awe of the Second Captain's power, he turns to thank him. But his words are cut short when a third man reaches the stream.
Captain Claus only manages to take a couple of steps before falling flat on his face.