"Hey, Lass, are you there?" It was a man with a low, gruff voice. "The hall's a mess so I brought your food, can I leave in front of the door?"
The knight carefully unsheathed her blade and grabbed on the door knob. She opened just enough so she was able to peek outside without whoever was on the door noticing her weapon drawn.
The owner of the voice was Gerolt. He had a few bruises on his face but was none worse for wear.
"Ah, here's your food, Lass."
She nodded as she switched hands off her rapier and grabbed the wooden tray from his hand.
"Thank you, Gerolt."
"Aye, no problem. You can leave the tray outside when you're done. Enjoy your meal."
"Got it."
Once the exchange was over, she closed the door and locked it. When she turned, she noticed Rionara staring at the rapier on her hand.
"Rio?"
"Hm?" Her azure eyes trailed up to meet hers and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, not at all. I was just curious about your weapon. You are a knight, yet you use a rapier instead of a normal sword. Why is that?"
"Ah…" She turned around and sat on the floor while also putting the tray on the ground. "Well… casting magic requires space. If I were to use a weapon meant for slashing, I would need to be closer to use it, but a thrusting one I can stay just outside another swordsman's range and cast spells. If they decide to engage, I still have my sword, if they don't—they'll eat my spells."
"Wait… are you a mage as well?!"
Priscilla was in the process of sheathing her blade until she looked up from her weapon.
"Hm? Oh, I suppose I never told you at length. My royal guard title is because I wield both the blade and magic with equal skill." She started to chuckle to herself. "Though not as well as either commander Leonard nor my Queen."
Rionara stayed quiet, but her eyes told a different story. She was mesmerized with the person in front of her.
'How can someone be so strong yet… so kind… so warm…?' She brought her closed hands atop of her breast and smiled. 'Priscilla… thank you…'
Seeing her happy made the knight feel at ease as she left the sheathed rapier beside her crossed legs.
The wooden tray had a large bowl of piping hot vegetable soup while another had loaves of bread baked from lunch accompanied by thin strips of beef jerky. Priscilla placed the bread and jerky bowl between them before asking.
"Shall we eat?"
Rionara looked up to her and nodded.
At the same time, in the central square of the city, a group of town guards were escorting a tall man wearing a white overcoat with red details along the hem of his clothes. He didn't seem too happy about having to make a late night visit to the guild.
Many footsteps echoed from the entrance and the lone receptionist already knew who came to claim the captured bounty. Her silver hair shifted as she turned her head towards the entrance.
"Captain Rhys." Lucina spoke with a tinge of concern in her voice. "Are you here for the Black Assassin?"
"Yes, where is he?"
The man in the trenchcoat answered, though his face clearly showed he wasn't there because he wanted to.
"At the back, sir."
"I see." He looked at the other guards and motioned his head forward which made three of his escorts move towards the back of the guild. He shifted his attention to Lucina as he continued. "Say, who was the adventurer that apprehended him?"
"That would be our newest recruit. Priscilla Avellion, sir."
"Avellion, huh?" He frowned his eyebrows as he started to rub his right index finger and thumb together. "I see."
It didn't take long until the other guards were carrying the cloaked man by his arms. He had both his arms locked behind his back with a wooden clamp with a big sturdy lock. Lucina gave Rhys a quick glance before asking.
"Should I fetch the key?"
"No, it won't be necessary."
"Pardon?"
"You should close the guild for the day, Miss Lucina. It is quite late and a receptionist like yourself shouldn't wander alone in the streets so late at night."
His calm yet firm tone of voice gave a strange unsettling sensation that sent chills down her spine which made her only reply with a short.
"Y-yes, sir. Thank you for your concern."
He raised his left hand briefly as if saying goodbye before exiting the guild with the guards at tow. Outside, he stopped and took a deep breath before heading to the barracks, a place just beyond the central square a few streets down from the noble's district.
As he made his way through the iron gates, a row of soldiers saluted with halberds on hand.
"Sir!"
"At ease, soldiers." He stopped and looked at them all lined up. "As per usual, do your rounds around the district and the central square."
"Yes, Sir!"
The kettle helmets, gambeson, chainmail, plate leggings and gauntlets made a cacophony of sounds that grew more distant as the group of soldiers went on their way to do their jobs. As they went away Rhys continued to walk past the central building where the jails were located. Instead he and his guards brought the tied up prisoner to the training area before tossing his limpless body on the sandy ground.
"Ugh…" The masked assassin blinked awake as Rhys approached him. "What the…"
"Tsk, tsk, you just had to mess up with her, didn't you? Who gave you the contract?"
"Huh? Why are you asking these questions?" He tried to stand up but once he noticed his arms were still locked behind his back—a sense of dread started to show in the assassin's eyes. "Oi, oi… why am I still in chains?"
Rhys sighed and shook his head before standing up.
"So, tell me. Who sent you to kill that adventurer? Edward? Ivan? Perhaps the Baron?"
The man looked up while frowning his brows.
"Hah? Why would I tell you?"
"Your employer will want to know how you failed."
"I didn't fail. Not while I am still drawing breath."
"Which won't be for long." He glanced at one of the soldiers and he unsheathed his arming sword and passed to Rhys. "Now, last chance. Do you want to die like a man or a dog?"
"Wai-! Wait! Wait! Wait! That wasn't what we agreed on!"
The man started to writhe and squirm as if trying to get his hands out of the wooden hand lock, but the guards around Rhys moved forward and held him down.
"It would be another story if you were captured by a greenhorn or even a mercenary, but the woman that caught you is a high officer from Arcadia. The Kingdom of Arcadia. If word gets out that you were being helped by us to stay out of trouble, an axe would come to my head instead."
"Hah?! That's not what I was told! She has to die today!"
Rhys chuckled and shook his head again.
"Do you not understand? The word of a Royal Knight will have much more weight than that of a town's guard captain." He lifted the sword and turned the blade from one side to the other—reflecting the dim moonlight off the metal. "And you are merely a loose end at this point."
And that point the assassin's eyes turned from wide bewilderment to a deep seated fury.
"RHYYYYYYYS!" He tried to stand up but the two guards pinned him to the ground with their halberds. "I SWEAR, I WILL KILL YOU ALL—!"
The captain sighed and raised the blade.
"A dog it is." A squelch sound cut the shouting short. Rhys lifted the bloodied blade off the man's neck and handed the sword back to the soldier. "Dispose of him and go rest, we'll have a long day tomorrow."
"Yes, Sir!"
He made his way to the central building where his office was located. The entrance to the barracks was mundane, a hallway with stone paved flooring with wooden walls holding a variety of weapons on racks or armor. His own room was located on the far left side of the hall. He quickly vanished into his room and locked the door behind him.
A bed, a nightstand and a table placed against the corner near the bed. It was a very simple room, but he didn't need much. At least, not while on duty.
He removed his white overcoat and left it lazily folded on the wooden chair near the table.
"Who could be the fool that sent an assassin after her…" He sat on the bed before leaning forward with both elbows against his knees. "Priscilla Avellion… I thought Marcus was joking about his daughter becoming a Royal Knight, but this…"
He reached beneath his bed and grabbed a silver flask filled with liquor. He unscrew the cap and took a sip before putting the flask down on the floor in front of him.
"Tsk… couldn't be the Baron… he wouldn't act rashly after what I told him…" He started to rub his right index and thumb together. "Maybe Ivan then… that bastard innkeeper… no but… if she came here with the pretext of policing Arivaul then she would have stayed in the guild to know how we process prisoners…"
He took another mouthful of the liquor—letting the burn scrape throughout his throat before finally settling with a sniff and wiping the side of his mouth.
"Shit… I'll need to report this to him again. This damn city…" He capped the flask again and tucked it beneath his bed again before laying flat on the thin mattress. "Priscilla Avellion… Royal Knight… hmm… maybe she's here for her father."
There was a brief pause where his eyes trailed up to the window. His right hand reached for the lock in order to check if it was indeed closed before his mind could wander again.
"Her father… if memory serves right, he was a silver plate adventurer…"
He closed his eyes and started to remember the last time he spoke with Marcus. It was just like any other day in Arivaul, Rhys had a day off so he decided to spend it in the tavern just across the guild. There, he met a man called Marcus Avellion.
An eccentric man driven by his obsession with magic. He was a capable fighter too, a spearman that would put fear in the hearts of anyone who dared to cross blades with him. Though at the time, Rhys was nothing more than a foot soldier in that already corrupted city.
"Hey, Rhys! Long time no see." A tall blonde man with a spear leaned against the wall behind him was waving from the corner of the tavern. "Come have a drink with me, eh?"
He wore a striking red gambeson beneath a steel breastplate—boots and gauntlets of the same material. His hair was combed back and sharp yet tired red eyes were quite the unique sight.
"Marcus…" A younger, beardless Rhys walked up to the table with a weary smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you quit being an adventurer."
He pulled one of the chairs and sat across the blonde bearded man, who replied.
"Indeed I did. I'm just here to explore the dungeon on my own accord."
"Oh? Why is that? Are you in need of coin?"
"No, nothing of the sort. It's just that I can't let these old bones get any worse than they already have." He flexed his right arm and tapped on his biceps through the gambeson twice. "I have a daughter back in Arcadia and I need to be in top shape."
Rhys chuckled.
"And then you decided to come to Arivaul to dust off the rust? Are you insane, Marcus?" He took a sip of his beer and leaned back on the chair. "So, when's she due? Must be months away if you're out here."
The man raised an eyebrow before almost downing his entire tankard.
"What are you talking about? She'll be twenty next month."
"Hah?! You had a daughter that old?!"
"Yeah, next—hic—week I want to give her a decent weapon."
"A weapon? Why? Is she going to be a soldier or something?"
He shook his head with a wide grin on his face.
"My daughter will become a knight."
"A knight?! In Arcadia?!"
"Yes! My adorable sweet roll grew so strong…" Marcus started to get emotional only to slam his empty tankard on the table which drew a few glances towards him, but he didn't care. "But! I can't let her beat these old bones so easily. If she wants to be a knight, she has to defeat me in combat."
"Haha! What a strange reasoning." Rhys shook his head, amused. But looking closely at the man before him he knew from his gut that he was dead serious. A spearman and mage besides, he was someone straight out of a hero's tale. "But, it's good to see you here in good health, old friend."
He arched his back and laughed.
"Indeed. It is good to be back." He stood up and raised his empty tankard before shouting from the top of his lungs. "Barkeeper! Another round for me and my friend here!"
There was a fire in him that Rhys could never bring himself to do the same. That ardent passion for something—someone, was something he never felt in his life. Before long he found himself becoming the captain in a city mired in corruption.
"Perhaps… it is what I deserve…" Rhys quietly muttered as his eyelids were closing by themselves. "I'm sorry, Cecile…"