Fate - First Reply A Deadly Dance and A Lonely Soul

A 1x1 Roleplay where the first writer to respond can join
Though not exactly lavish, the room was nice enough. Made for a family that wanted to stay together, the spacious suite contained two beds, a small writing desk with a stool, and the luxury of a private washroom and privy. Setting down her pack and satchel near the desk, Kassa looked around, nodded to herself and waved a hand toward a slightly open door at a far wall. A close look would reveal a slight waft of steam seeping through the crack.

“I was just kidding, darling,” she said. “But I think a hot bath would probably do you good. You took a hard hit back at that tavern.” She paused. Then, slightly awkwardly, “Thank you, by the way.” It was unnecessary, the deed, but Kassa appreciated the gesture.

Paired with towels and complimentary hair wash and soap, there were two wooden bathtubs, both with automatic pumps for fresh water. Unfortunately, both were in the same room. “You can go first, Len. Take your time, I’ll wait,” Kassa said as she sat down on one of the beds. Fitted with cotton and wool, it was quite comfortable.

Kassa lounged as Len went about his business, allowing him the privacy and peace of a silent washing. When he finished, she entered the washroom, closed the door, and refilled both tubs. Tossing her clothes to soak in one, she stepped into the other and relaxed as the hot water eased her muscles and nerves. She rubbed the bar of soap up and down her body, sighing in relief as grime and dirt were washed away. She hated being dirty.

“You have any idea where your Seven Trees are?” she asked as she set down the soap and reached for the bottle of hair wash. “Maybe a forest or something?” She didn’t think it would be too far, if Len was recently resurrected. Dead bodies didn’t travel well.

She poured the hair wash over her head, working it into a rich lather. “An… Illya? What’s that like? I know some people celebrate it with cake and the like, but I’ve read some cultures like… uh more serous ceremonies.” She smiled as she described a very odd ceremony involving bullet ants lining leaf sleeves and a considerable amount of pain for the would-be man. Interesting, And horrifying.
 
He turned to Kassa, raising an eyebrow as she ushered him forth to wash first. "Land-Roamers and their modesty... I'll never understand the stigma of keeping one's own body concealed." It wasn't a complaint, more of a musing to himself. He wouldn't have complained either way, not when the conditions in this room were far better than any his body had been treated to in quite some time. He began taking off the armor before even crossing the threshold into the washroom, the collision of his metal gauntlets against the floor echoing through their chambers as he tossed them aside. His armor slid off easily, likely helped by the thin sheen of sweat he sported in reward for his efforts at the tavern.

He didn't step into the bath, not immediately. The tub was filled and warm, soft steam rising from it's surface in attempt to lure him into it's relaxing waters. Len stood instead in front of the mirror, bare of clothing. He wasn't admiring his own body, or inspecting wounds. Rather, he held back the emotion welling up behind his white eyes. He hadn't truly accepted it until he'd seen himself, that he was truly alive again. Somehow... he'd been brought back.

"Everything is gone, though..."

He leaned forward, hands gripping the sides of the small sink under the mirror as the gravity of just how isolated he was hit him with the force of a troll's club. How cruel was it, that a dead heart could feel so twisted and broken? There was no Aberrant Kingdom in this Arethil. Yura wasn't here to warm his bed and soothe his soul each night, and the Seven trees... they were likely dead and withered. Everything that he had lived for had passed. Now the only time that he felt alive was with blood in his mouth and cuts in his flesh.

Anything for contact.

Kassa Lia spoke, her words breaking him from a spell. He shook his head and looked towards the door as he collected himself, stepping over to the now merely warm water, allowing his weary muscular form to soak in it. He leaned back, his eyes closing as he called back to Kassa Lia.

"An Illya is when a child of The Aberrant Kingdom departs their home for the first time, travelling to the Seven Trees where the kingdom was originally founded. Once there, they choose what they will do for the rest of their life, and train in that craft amongst their peers for 3 human years before they are permitted to return."

As for the location, Kassa would likely be disappointed by the distance facing them.

"They stood tall in a well protected patch of forest, on the stretch of land that connected this landmass to the one beside it."

The only place that seemed to match that description would place it near current day Alliria.

Kassa Lia
 
Well-traveled, Kassa Lia still had yet to be to the renowned city of Alliria. But she had heard stories of it, and knew where it was on her old but detailed map of Arethil. She knew it sat on the narrow Allir strait, the single patch of land that led from this country of Liadain to that of Epressa. Digging out on her map of her bag and unrolling it across the bedroom desk, she discovered it also lay far away, across the Aberresai Savannah and a section of the famed northern Falwood.

It was quite a trek. There were villages and small farmsteads along the way, but there were less of major cities and waypoints, and there were no portal stones nearby. Not that she wanted to use one of those again. In addition, she had heard that of late they wagered on the prospect of safety. She didn’t want to know what happened if a portal failed while one was traveling.

“Dammit,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. She glanced in Len’s direction. “How did you end up in Maraan?” She stood up and paced a bit, thinking. Airships were rare, and costly. So were a good pair of horses. She sighed. “I hope you’re not on a time limit, Len.”

After they had both bathed and she had dressed herself in a complimentary bathrobe, she lay on one of the provided beds, enjoying the lush feel of a real comforter and the softness of good covers and sheets. She usually had to make do with bedroll, sometimes on rocky, uneven surfaces. She was not spoiled, but anyone could appreciate a proper bed.

“So, you chose to be a Vanguard or something? What does that mean?” she asked, as she closed her eyes, already feeling drowsy. “I hope you’re good with using that sword as you are dancing with it, because I’ve heard the walk to the Allir Strait isn’t a pleasant dream.”

She rolled over, wrapping herself in blankets. “Stop calling us Land-Roamers, darling. Until you sprout wings and turn into a bird, you’re not much different than us.”
 
Len wandered the room for a time after exiting the bath, seemingly more content to explore the suite than to sleep. Taking her evident distaste of bareness into account he'd wrapped his waist in the wrap he'd worn earlier, though it only truly concealed the essentials. "That robe is very fetching. We used to wear similar garb in joining rituals. We were much less worried about showing our bodies though, I can understand why they've chosen such a style for bath wear."

He set his mask carefully on a table beside the bed, in a place where he would be able to quickly reach it in an emergency. B-taa saw no reason to conceal his face around Kassa anymore, they'd known each other for a short time, but he had already grown to trust her more than any other in his new life. He turned his head to her, offering a smile to the robed woman. "I died there, obviously." There was a hint of playfulness to his tone as he raised an eyebrow. "Unless this magic that brought me back wears off any time soon, I have all the time in the world. No where else to go, and certainly nobody to see."

Perhaps his own sentimental thoughts showed through in that last statement, but he shakes his head, instead turning away from her, and crawling into his own bed on all fours, before sitting cross legged atop the blankets and sheets. He breathes in, and his exhalation seems to expel all of the stress that had been built up. His head tilting over to look at her through the side of his vision, the girl now wrapped in blankets "I think you'll find I'm quite able in battle, Kassa. I walked in the front lines of battle in my King's name, and only was allowed to dance when all my foes were vanquished."

He didn't say anything back though, when she told him he was 'not much different than us'

He began to wonder if that was true. He felt alive, felt the blood pumping through his body and the air on his skin. He'd felt despair when he'd been baking in the sun, gratitude when this woman had come to his aid, and now contentment as she kept him company after an eternity of loneliness. These were all signs that should tell him he was very much alive, and just like every other soul that roamed these plains.

"No. I suppose I'm not..."

Why did his words sound hollow to him?

Kassa Lia
 
Nobody to see? Kassa smiled at his words. Someone or something had returned him to life for a reason, and she intended to find out who the resurrectionist was. Or necromancer, as the case might be. Several possibilities and theories ran through her mind, and already the case was proving a difficult one to solve. It was truly a fascinating mystery.

She didn’t share any of this with Len, though she did open one eye as he relaxed upon his own bed. So very pale, and yet she thought even now he looked healthier that he had just moments before. Was it the meal and drink, short as it was? The refreshing bath? All of those things, or just the perspective of a particularly overactive imagination?

Despite that pale face, he was certainly not ugly, and the sturdy musculature of his body was somehow attractive. Kassa believed him when he declared himself fit enough to fend for himself, even as she wondered at this past battle he mentioned, which one it was, and if it was in history books at all. There were wars and conflicts that remained hidden, even from the most educated scholars.

“I think I’ll feel quite safe with you, Len,” she said suddenly with a chuckle. Oh, how I love playing helpless damsels. “But if you need any help, feel free to ask, and I’ll do my best.”

She closed the eye and eased her breathing. She didn’t miss the slight change of tone in his voice.

“Cheer up, sweetie. I said not much different, not any.”

She yawned and titled over on her side. “We’d best go to sleep. I like a good early start. Goodnight, Len. No funny business, now.”

She waved a hand, and with a puff of cold wind, all light sources, arcane and natural, went out.
 
He cast a glance over to her from his spot, a small smile coming to his lips as she bid him a goodnight and a warning. "I would never do such a thing without permission, Kassa." Forcing oneself on another was a crime punishable by exile in his home kingdom, and he would never dream of performing such actions upon Kassa. Beautiful as she was, he doubted such feelings did or would exist towards him. That was quite fine.

She waved her hand, and all the lights went out. Len was left in darkness, alone with his thoughts. He had to wonder if sleep would come for a mind like his? So restless and full of uncertainty, he was off balance and twisted by his own musings that ceased to leave his mind. He let out a small laugh at the thought, leaning back to lie his head on the pillow of the bed. If he couldn't sleep, he would at least make attempt to rest his eyes.

Morning came quickly and Len's night was restless and uneven. He woke several times, eventually submitting to dawns light and rising to his feet. He would stretch, limbering his body on the floor in front of his bed with the same extreme flexibility he'd displayed the day prior.

When Kassa awoke, she would find Len on one hand, body in the air as he balanced precariously on his palm. His legs were crossed, and his eyes shut peacefully. It would almost seem as though he were locked in some sort of meditation. Still, he would speak to her. "Good morning, Kassa. Did you sleep well?"

Kassa Lia
 
What sort of dreams waited in Kassa’s mind? She didn’t know. For years, she didn’t know, because she since one fateful day her dreaming simply stopped. There were no images, no voices, no sensation of any kind, nightmarish or otherwise, to disturb the deep darkness that was all that permeated her sleep. It troubled her sometimes, but in the end she didn’t miss the dreams, remembering those times when she would wake up screaming.

Now, as dawn’s light filtered in through a painted glass window, her eyes opened slowly as if hearing a musical alarm. Yawning and stretching her arms, she glanced over to see Len performing another impressive exercise. She smiled at the sight in subtle admiration. She couldn’t fathom how one managed to do what he did.

“It was a good rest, honey. Thank you for asking,” she smiled as she arose, heading to the washroom where her clothes were laid out. She closed the door to dress. The clothes were still damp from yesterday’s washing, but a light tap warmed and dried them in seconds. A bit of grooming, and she exited the room looking fresh and beautiful in her green traveling garb.

“I hope you’re refreshed too, Len, because we’ve got a long way to go,” she said as she passed by him, bending down to rifle through her backpack. “According to my map, there should be a few villages that may have enough to refill food and water for us along the way. If not, wild roots and vegetables aren’t too hard to find.”

She put a finger to her lips and smiled again. “If you need anything, now’s the time to get it. Before the shops get busy, I mean. I’d love to head out before it gets hot again.”
 
Dreams for Len were naught but memories; kisses that had once been placed upon his lips, the air of spring against his skin as he scaled the trees, the warmth of blood as he threw himself on his own blade, the sight of the city towering high above his head, invisible eyes bearing down on him. His sleep brought flashes of what used to be, reminding him of what he'd lost.

It drove him mad, how happy and miserable that made him all at once.

He returned to his feet, nodding to his companion with a light smile as she headed to the washroom to ready herself for their lengthy journey. There was a part of him that wondered exactly what it was that she gained by helping him, by traveling so far with a relative stranger with no promise of reward. She was a kind woman, but... nobody was that kind, were they?

As she disappeared into the other room, he rolled his shoulders, collecting his underclothes and armor. In many ways, his armor was his true skin. He very rarely removed it, sometimes even allowing himself to rest in the suit. As a young man, he'd been taught that he was a weapon; a tool to be utilized by his King. He was not selected for his humanity, but for his lack thereof.

Grip your sword, and never be forgotten.

He holds back a bitter laugh as he slides the mask onto his face once more. He wasn't sure what it was that this Kassa Lia saw in him.

But it was more than he saw in himself.

She exits, looking rather fetching as was becoming the usual. He bows at the waist in greeting to her as she emerges to greet him once more, his gravelly voice low against the dull murmurs of activity on the streets outside of the room. "You reward me with even your presence, as always, Kassa." He would have eventually been making this trek himself anyways, but her being beside him would be an exponential help, he was sure. She knew this world better than he did, and he'd be lying if he claimed the presence of a lady didn't add an extra incentive to be sharp and quick to act. They were to be protected, after all.

"We may depart at your word. All that I need here now."

Kassa Lia
 
Early though it was, the streets were already bustling with activity. Merchants were setting up their booths, breakfast stalls already cooking convenient meals, and local shops opening their doors greeted the rising sun. It took a good amount of weaving to make one’s way through, but in due time Len and Kassa found their way to the city gates. Drowsy-eyed, the guards looked them over before waving them through, bidding them a safe journey.

The Aberresai Savannah stretched out before them, drenched in the greens of grass fed well by the wet season. It was already growing quite warm, but as Kassa lengthened her stride, a gust of cool wind whipped by, promising a reprieve from the ruthless heat.

She looked like a lady, but Len would find no reason to slow a soldier’s relentless pace or take any of the frequent breaks an inexperienced noble might require. Kassa walked fast and smooth, gliding over rocks and uneven ground easily, covering a good amount of ground in less than an hour without one single misstep or call for a stop, even with the packs she carried. Traveling on foot was apparently a common thing for her.

It was a fairly peaceful passage. On occasion a carriage hauled by oxen or horses passed by, sometimes at a distance and sometimes quite close. The drivers hailed them without hostility, offering to sell a few goods which Kassa mostly declined. One did offer to sell some flatbread and cheese, which Kassa took advantage of as a quick and easy breakfast she ate as she continued walking. The same was for lunch, and slowly the sun began it daily descent toward the western horizon. The shadows over the land were extending well across the ground when Kassa suddenly took a sharp turn, veering off the path they followed. In a short time, she stopped, looked around, and nodded to herself.

“This looks like a good place to stop for the night,” she said to Len. She hadn’t offered much conversation during their walk. The reason why was apparent on closer observation; she sounded rather out of breath. The long journey was a bit harder than she wanted to admit.

She squatted on the ground, which held a fire pit dug by earlier travelers. They had come across a few on their way. There was a bit of wood still usable within, and Kassa procured some flint and steel and went to work vigorously until sparks flew into the tinder, giving life to a small blaze.

“We made good time,” she commented as she banked the fire. She grinned at Len humorously. “I didn’t think you would keep up, darling.”
 
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It seemed that the excitement of yesterday's performance and the subsequent fight in the tavern had passed with the new day, a fact Len certainly didn't mind. He disliked it when those of his home would shoot him looks, murmuring about the 'King's Toy' and the 'War Monster'. Their names were not always inaccurate... but regardless, Len found his pride wounded by them.

Kassa continued to surprise him, pleasantly so. She moved with such purpose, the gait of a warrior on a mission as he himself struggled to keep pace should he be distracted for any length of time. He'd expected them to charter a carriage or horses, but she was proving herself far more reliable and capable than he'd given her due credit for. "That's becoming a habit of hers..." He thought to himself fondly, smiling underneath his mask as she slid down a rocky incline to cover some extra distance rather effortlessly.

The trip was meaningful for Len, travelling the plains that had once served as his home so long ago and witnessing what it had become, seeing the travelers and merchants cheerily selling wares to his lovely companion. He was glad the mask covered his face, to hide the emotion building on it as he recognized rock faces, felt old memories come to the forefront... A meal was a welcome distraction to his melancholy, and he found that once he had raised his mask to eat what Kassa had offered that he was far hungrier from the trek than he had anticipated.

"In my time, this Savannah was not a place you could roam so freely..." He filled tbe silence of their journey with. "People fought over these lands, and to travel on foot was suicide. I am glad... That I am able to experience my home so intimately with you. You have my sincere thanks, Kassa." It was probably an odd thing to thank someone for, but the last time he'd been in this Savannah, it had been with the intent to kill his fellow man. He felt no such pressure now, and as Kassa decided to set up camp for the night, Len found more spare wood to aid her in the fire-making. Dusk had come quickly, and already the fire pierced the night sky with an orange glow that lit up Kassa's visage to his eyes.

"I endeavor to be beside you no matter what, Kassa. As my traveling companion, I must ensure nothing happens to you. I would... Prefer not to be alone again..."

Seating himself in front of the fire, Len removes his mask and shawl, as well as sheds his upper body armor. The night was dark, and the weather mild, but heat tended to collect in a suit of armor rather quickly. He offered a smile as warm as his skin to her as he set his belongings aside. "It feels as though we only just left, and already the time nears to rest once more. Our journey to the Trees must be blessed." He eyes Kassa's pack, pondering whether or not she brought mats to rest upon. "Of course..." he continued slowly. "If you wished to keep me company for a time before sleep, I certainly wouldn't mind that. I could answer more questions, perhaps tell you stories of the Seven Trees, or..." He tilts his head. "Or you could tell me things about yourself. I know so little besides your beauty and kindness towards me."

Kassa Lia
 
As the fire bristled and burned, Kassa began constructing a frame from the thinner wood and sticks Len had found for the fire. She worked diligently as she looped a long rope in and around in complex knots, reinforcing the frame with the rope and its own weight. But even as she tightened the knots one by one, she heard Len suggest, if not so bluntly, that perhaps she might tell him more of herself.

She laughed at his last words, turning her head to one side to hide the faint pink staining her cheeks. “You shouldn’t use such flattery, sweetie. You’ll make an honest woman blush,” she admonished him as she lashed the final wooden rod into place. She set the frame over the fire, ensuring it was secure and steady before removing the bulk of the items in her pack. It was a beaten pot, a cheaply made necessity for a traveler who wanted to eat more than dried provisions on a long journey. She set it over the fire and procured a few tiny bottles filled with variously colored liquids and powders, along with packets of salted, sliced meat, tightly packaged vegetables, and a thin slab of sharp white cheese.

“Hmmm, myself?” She smiled slightly as she tossed the food into the pot and reached for one of the bottles, swishing the liquid around. “Fortunately, my story isn’t as… interesting like yours, dear. I ran into some trouble, so I left home and found traveling suited me.”

Pausing, she poured a portion of the liquid into the pot over the food. She watched for a moment as it sizzled. A pleasing, spicy-sweet smell filled the air, yet she frowned. Not at the cooking, but at the situation she found herself in. She hadn’t lied yet, but was toeing the line, and for some reason she didn’t like that. Len had been nothing but honest with her, as far as she could tell, and to betray that sort of integrity was rather… distasteful.

“Well, all right,” she muttered. She met eyes with Len. “A few brigands burned my house down when I was sixteen and left me with nothing, so of course traveling had to suit me.”

She snatched another bottle up and began, with practiced precision, to sprinkle the makeshift stir-fry with spices and seasonings. She sat back as it cooked, tapering her fingers restlessly on one leg.

The fire, the screaming…

The shadows and glowing eyes…

“What will you offer?”

“Everything.”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” she finally said.
 
The food she'd begun preparing looked absolutely mouthwatering, more so perhaps than the meal they'd shared the day before, although Len had always prepared his own meals and may have had a personal preference. There were times when one had to improvise to gain sustenance on the battlefield between skirmishes... and even when he'd served to entertain the King himself, he was never offered food meant for those above his class. He was a royal tool, and to be in their presence was considered a reward in its own right.

That was likely why he felt the way he did now, alone and isolated. In a way, he had been even in his youth, kneeling before others in silken robes as they feasted before him. Now, he was all that was left.

And what was he doing with this second chance?

He was running right back home, in hopes there was some meaning to his life there, that maybe somebody could wield him as the weapon he was. It was pathetic, and he knew it to be so. The warmth that filled his chest when his travel companion would speak, however, distracted him from such thoughts. He smiles at her blushing chastisement, his brow raising as if somewhat surprised by such a display. "Do not fault me for my honesty, Kassa. We're likely to be close to each other for some time. The least we can do is be honest with one another, no?"

Her presence was... so unusual to Len. He had no idea that one could be so selfless as to walk by his side for no real reason. She saw him not as a tool, but as a person.

It was refreshing, as well as terrifying.

The brief retelling of her own story was met with silence, Len's eyes fixing themselves on the fire in front of them, his nose twitching on the tempting smell of their dinner. She was a casualty of circumstance, of needless and thoughtless violence. Violence had stolen her home, had taken away what her life should have been.

And here she was traveling with a bringer of such violence, one who wrought it wherever he went in his time. He'd set fire to homes, he'd watched families be slain in the name of being needed and wanted by his city. For to fail would mean being left on his own. He'd had no choice, he'd told himself....

It was a sad excuse.

"No, I am sorry. You should not have to recount any such horror to me. You... there's no reason for you to divulge such personal detailings to one such as I. I have no right."

Kassa Lia
 
A burning feeling, new to her, bloomed in Kassa’s chest. She felt angry – not at Len, but at all the circumstances that led her to be here, with burdening secrets and tales that could not be revealed. She stirred the sizzling meal with a ladle, pretending to be busy. She felt she had to say something, to assuage Len from being so maddeningly apologetic, but what would that be, when there were so few words?

“Dammit, Len,” she finally said tersely. “You asked, but I answered. No need to be sorry.” She forced a smile as she produced a small bowl and utensils from her satchel and another from her bag and began to fill them with the food that was now nicely cooked. There was uncomfortable silence, then,

“It’s really all right,” Kassa said, handing the Vanguard a bowl and a wooden spoon. “Maybe I’ll tell you more sometime, just not right now. Eat up, if it’s tolerable,” she said with a humorous glint in her eye as she tasted the meal. It was rather sweet, with a mild spiciness that was not too overpowering. Kassa always felt she was a good cook, but felt rather nervous as she watched Len. She wasn’t used to preparing food for others.

“I’d like to know more about you,” Kassa suggested after another pause. She gestured at the discarded mask. “Do you only wear that to hide your face, or is it a custom or tradition of some sort?” She reached out, momentarily forgetting her manners as she picked up the mask and turned it one way and the other. She didn’t sense any magic as she examined it, but you couldn’t be too sure these days.

“I am interested in these Seven Trees,” she said, setting the mask down. “It’s a good time for a story or two, don’t you think? My turn to be sorry for being so curious, but I’ve never heard of them. You’re such an engaging mystery, darling.”
 
Kassa's sudden outburst had surprised Len more than anything else; he was far too accustomed to every word he spoke being carefully chosen, handcrafted to please those who commanded him. The idea that perhaps he had been too apologetic and careful with his speech hadn't occurred to him at all. Kassa saw him as an equal, something he seemed to forget all too easily...

He looked back down at the fire, not responding to her words for some time, or her offer for further exposition at a later date. Instead, he busied himself with his food, taking small polite bites of the soup. His reaction would likely be quite entertaining, tilting his head up and opening his mouth with a soft exhalation of surprise. "Oh, that is most exquisite Kassa. You warm my soul with your meal..." This was far better than the steak he'd had at the tavern, and he'd even enjoyed that.

They ate together for a time, and even amidst the silence, it was clear that the two of them enjoyed one another's presence. To Len, it was a high privilege to be considered equal to an outsider, especially a female. When finally their mutual silence broke and she broached the topic of his mask and history, he would smile slightly at her, looking over at the clay piece he wore over his face. "Tradition... No, my mask is meant to separate the tool from the being..." He reaches over, scooping it up and bringing it to his lap. The slender white fingers of his hand trailed along the old thing slowly, his pale eyes closing in memory as his muscular chest seemed to shift with a gasp as he recalled something...

"Yes... for I am the blade of the Aberrant, strong and true do I thrust myself into the heat of battle in service of my king. I wear this mask because I am not man, but a tool to be wielded by the mighty." He smiled, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. How sad it sounded now... a tool of the past. "If ever I believe my edge has dulled, then I would sever my limbs so that I could never fight again. If ever I felt weak of loyalty, I would throw myself upon my blade in defiance of my failure."

It was a pledge that had been burned into his mind again and again on the branches of the Trees. His talent was not his own. His talent belonged to the Aberrant, to the bark of the trees and the roots that ran beneath them. He was not to be referred to as Terios Ry'leth, or Reflection of Yearning as it was translated. Henceforth he was Len Dy't B-taa: Gilded Blade of Kings.

He continued to speak, offering her the stories he could remember of his people as he took slow sips of his soup. "The Seven Trees stood tall in the sacred land where our home was built. It was said that those who constructed our city used the branches as scaffolding to ascend to the heavens as they laid brick by brick. They stood so tall that their tops were said to be invisible from beneath the clouds..." He finished his soup, laying down the bowl and laying back to watch the sky as he recalled. "Our city was one of a kind capable of moving from one location to another via a complicated feat of engineering... we eventually settled in what is now this Savannah. Still, we remembered the Trees. When I became a young man, old enough to procreate but too young to be finished with my education, I journeyed on a pilgrimage to the Seven Trees as did every other young man and woman my age. This was called an Illya, which would translate in common tongue as 'Destiny's Arrival'"

He thought often of his Illya, of his friends and lover that attended with him, of the submission of his name and personage. Of the final time he held Yura in his arms...

"When you reached the Trees, you would learn what you were to do for the rest of your life. Each tree was dedicated to a lifestyle. The First Tree, representing life and parenthood. The Second Tree, where knowledge and study thrived. The Third Tree, reserved for nobles and leaders for the next generation. The Fourth Tree; cultivation and agriculture..." There was a noticeable pause before he continued, his eyes going glassy... "The Fifth Tree, for might and strength to mold the warriors who defended the Kingdom. The Sixth Tree was where culture and spirit were brought out in those worthy, so that they may entertain and bring smiles to the masses. Finally, The Seventh Tree was for public servants and labor, the unseen and often underappreciated that kept everything afloat with their efforts."

Len had longed to serve the Sixth tree, to dance and entertain the tired and weary who roamed the districts where he made his home. He'd instead been chosen to serve in battle, his masculinity and agility making him a prime candidate... "When you were assigned a Tree, you were given intense training upon it's thick branches every day for three months time, and each day you were required to climb higher in order to receive your lessons. If you were unable to make it to the required branch, you were sent to The Seventh Tree, which was much less daunting in size, to become a laborer."

He trailed off a bit, turning to smile at her. "It's funny, Kassa. I've been a warrior, born of the Fifth Tree for so long. My constant apologies... my unease about our relationship..." If that was an odd choice of phrase, he didn't seem to notice it. "It is because I am so unused to being treated as a person. It's been so long since anybody has seen me as a man. I would like to think... that's what you see me as. Because I see you as a wonderful woman, one who has made my unwitting return... much more pleasant than I could ever have imagined it being."

Kassa Lia
 
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This time, Kassa couldn’t turn away fast enough to conceal her blush. It seemed Len was quite the charmer with his flattering words, and she was unsure what to make of them. There were so many people who spoke prettily enough, all of them falsely; most only wanted something. Riches or… other favors. But Len sounded so sincere, and she sensed nothing false about him. So far he had not made any wicked moves either, and she had to remind herself not to be completely disarmed.

She ate briskly, not tasting much of it as she listened intently to Len’s tale, more a fascinating exploration into his culture and ways than a story. And it really was fascinating, Kassa admitted, as she mulled over his words and all that they implied. For all her journeys and research, never had she heard of the Seven Trees, and could scarcely imagine such so tall they stretched beyond the clouds. She looked up to see a fluffy blue cloud suspended high ahead, and tried again. Nothing doing; she couldn’t dream of a tree growing so large.

That was fantastical enough, and it seemed the whimsy ended there. Kassa frowned as Len described each Tree’s meaning and service attributed to them, with the Seventh sounding the most humiliating. She wondered only briefly if they were given any choice, for she quickly guessed the answer. Let a plant be as wonderful and oversized as it wanted; she couldn’t fathom giving her life over to such people who would, if she had to be honest, shunt her on over to agriculture. After all, she was born on a farm.

Until the day the hunters came.

Perhaps the Seven Trees weren’t that bad. Setting her empty bowl down, she pondered Len’s odd culture for a bit, smiling subtly at his closing words. What a gentleman, with such smooth words. She couldn’t help but laugh in her tinkling voice waving away his words with one hand. He had no idea.

“What else could I see you as, sweetie?” She took a branch and stirred up the fire again, until it blazed full and hearty. The heat formed a blue burning coal at the tip of the stick, with a bright golden ember at the very edge. She waved it around idly, watching the filmy smoke float through the air. “You can be a fighter, with all your smooth moves and abilities and what have you. But in the end, you’re just as susceptible as everyone else. To emotions, memories, love and hate… you can hold grudges and break promises and make mistakes. Good gods knows I’ve made a few,” she confessed.

“They say that’s what makes you human. Trust me, darling, I’ve seen quite a few heroes fall, because in the end they’re all just that; human.” She gave a pause, letting it sink in.

“I’m less of a wonderful woman than you think,” she suddenly said. She brought the glowing ember close to her face, tilting it sideways as she scrutinized it “I’m like this coal, I suppose. Pretty enough, but I burn.” She sighed, tossing the stick into the fire where it crackled and took flame.

“So you got the Fifth Tree, that’s easy to see.” Oh, I made a rhyme. “So you were part of an army? How long ago was this? Even the history books I’ve read don’t mention anything of your people. Are they your people?” she asked abruptly, meaning much more than the literal sense. “Sorry for saying it, Len, but they sound rather… well, set in their ways. Why are you going back, to be seen as some tool again? Possibly to the ones who killed you in the first place?
 
Len had long since finished his meal, and had shifted over to watch her as she stoked the fire as he lay on the ground with only the lower portion of his armor on. It felt nice, to be able to trust somebody enough to bare his flesh to them when he knew his appearance was so odd. Most everybody else would have been unnerved by his white skin, he felt. He was not the only one of them facing turmoil within himself though, and it would have been selfish to think so.

He saw it in her eyes, even that momentary glance of something more, when that color had filled her cheeks and her pupils had dilated upon meeting his. There was fire behind them, swirling dark thoughts that she dare not put to words. He knew that pain, holding in your most painful memories just so that you didn't have to worry about being hurt by them.

He almost spoke it, too: "I understand."

But before he could, she had responded to him, in a way that he'd come to expect from her; humanizing him, speaking to him as if he were more than what he claimed. She was correct on all counts: He'd loved passionately and hated furiously. He'd always seen them as things that made him weak though, because that's what he'd been taught his entire life. His goal was to be less than man, to be a weapon...

"I feel like a human when you talk to me."

He wasn't sure what it meant, but it was the only way he could think to put his thoughts to words. Now, it was his turn to avert his gaze. For while he found himself out of turn for what he spoke, he knew that she would not want an apology. "We all burn, Kassa. Even when I was the mightiest warrior of my kind, I was weak in so many ways besides strength. I could never truly rid myself of my feelings like I was asked. I was lustful, jealous, bitter. Because at the end of the night, the Kings I served sat high in the towers of my city, while I spent my nights in a cold barracks." Len had not faltered in his loyalty, however. No matter what negativity filled his mind, he remained a stalwart warrior that his kingdom could always depend on, always willing to kneel before his King.

Because that was the only place that he belonged.

"If you were to claim yourself devoid of flaws, I would think you the strange one between us. No, that capacity to burn is what made you who you are today. While it may have been painful in the past, and perhaps still burns... I thank that flammability for allowing us to meet like this." He kept his eyes fixed on the crackling fire as he spoke. The time for history lessons was over, and he now had to confront the truth of his journey. "I don't know what waits for me where the trees stood, Kassa. I don't even know what I'm hoping to find. Maybe this is me trying to cling to something I know, and find a place I belong..." He shakes his head. "Maybe I just want to see it one more time, to know if it's still there. Something within me needs that closure... if that's the only reason I'm back, then so be it. If there's something more though... something worth staying here for... I want to find it."

A long pause after he finishes speaking washes over him. Perhaps he had been too open with her... but no, he trusted her despite her claims of being less than innocent. The fire would begin to dim, and the sky would darken further above them. "Kassa. Would you like me to keep watch while you sleep?"

Kassa Lia
 
Did he understand?

Did he really?

Kassa doubted it. He did not, nor was expected, to know the secrets she kept close to her chest. Again she felt guilty, hiding so much from Len, he who was so open with everything he could give. Again she felt angry, almost furious that she had to continue with her secrets, lest he be horrified. Though she dared not admit it, dared not think of it, she didn’t desire him to leave her. Not like that, at least.

It wasn’t that she was lonely, of course. Was it? She gritted her teeth, glancing up at Len. Her thoughts calmed, if only slightly, as she focused on the color of his skin. So white and pale. He said he only felt like human. What was he then in blood and bone? She didn’t ask, feeling certain she would know soon enough anyway.

As Len spoke, she took the bowl and utensils from Len, rinsing the dishes with a bit of water. With a little rag she wiped it all clean and stored them away. They would use them repeatedly on this journey, supposing they made it there together and safely. Kassa wasn’t exactly pessimistic in nature, but things were rarely so easy when it came to long treks, missing information, and a risen dead person.

“We all burn, Kassa.

“Something within me needs that closure…

“I want to find it.”

She wondered what he would find, what he expected to find, and what he would do if there was nothing there. She couldn’t be sure, but she noted now that in the books and atlases she had examined, there was no mention of any great trees at the strait connecting this land to the next. If they did exist, something had caused them to vanish, like exorcised specters.

After all, you didn’t merely cut down such behemoths as Len described.

He offered to keep watch. It wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t tell him exactly why. She couldn’t tell him that ther things kept watch for her, and she had given a great deal to make sure she stayed safe, alone or otherwise, when night encroached and the sun slept. That night was the time she was most powerful, that the shadows liked it when she walked among them.

“If you want,” she finally said noncommittedly. A pause. Then she shrugged and took out a folded woolen blanket from her pack. It was strange she could keep so much in there. “Here,” she said, throwing it at him. “Don’t worry about me, I’m used to the ground and a lot less.”

She laid down on the grass, rolling around, finding a suitable flat section for her back.

She counted the stars as they began to dance in the sky and the fire was devoured by a cool wind.

He could kill me while I slept, she realized, but she didn’t feel afraid. He wouldn’t do that. Why was she so sure he wouldn’t betray her, like everyone else?

As with every other night, she did not dream.
 
Len could see a swirling hurricane of emotions behind her eyes, even from his spot on the ground he felt her distress emanating from every pore. It was frustrating, not that she didn't wish to tell him the extent of her woes, but that he had no means to ease her pain. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he felt unhappy himself at the thought of Kassa being in any anguish.

He watched her clean their dinnerware, even then with a look of conflict adorning her usually quite pleasing features. His brow furrowed in his own bout of anger. Not with her, but with himself. He knew so little about this world, about this time. Kassa had shouldered all of his burden, taken him in, and promised to help him, and yet she herself was obviously in such pain.

Was he only making it worse for her? Was he helping? He couldn't tell, and he hated that he couldn't tell.

So he said nothing, even as she tossed him the blanket, and found a place for herself to lay down for the night. Whatever memories she was reliving in her head were torturing her, and Len wished... he wished that she knew just how much he related to that. He sat there, in front of the dying fire for what must have been an hour, staring at the dwindling embers in thought...

What was it he expected to find? What closure could he hope for? He didn't know. Maybe he was hoping he wouldn't make it there, so he wouldn't have to find out.

He rose to his feet, clutching the wool of the blanket she'd given him firmly as he looked over to where she lay. She seemed to be asleep... looking down at the blanket once more, he walked quietly to stand above Kassa, spreading the woolen cover out and draping it gently over her body.

"I'm not the only one suffering..." He murmured quietly to himself. "But she eases mine. I must find a way to ease hers..."

Turning back to where he'd sat at dinner, he moves to collect his discarded armor, sliding it carefully back on over his chest before working to fasten the iron to his arms.

He'd only just finished when the arrow flew past his head, the buzzing whistle of its shaft tickling his ear, as he'd yet to place his mask upon his face. His skin grew small bumps, the small bit of hair that did remain on his scalp standing on end as his brain caught up with his mind; They were being attacked!

He followed his first instinct, diving to scoop up Kassa from the ground as another three arrows narrowly missed him. He had to get her to safety, somewhere he could deal with their attackers. There was a large rock formation just a short ways from their campsite, and the swift Len reached it in several strides, dropping into a slide while holding the woman tight to his chest as he pulled them into hiding.

Kassa Lia
 
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With horns and teeth glimmering in the searing candlelight, the strange thing loomed above her, too monstrous to be called a mere creature or beast. Its skeletal head tilted to one side, taking in her visage with one golden, gleaming eye. Bony teeth clacked together once. Kassa scrambled back from it, cringing as it stretched out a myriad of talons and claws. It only touched her, feather-light, an almost tender stroke against a strand of hair.

The deal is wrought, it said, as it had spoken so many years ago. The pact is set. Let it be done, and the shade will know.

Kassa swallowed, but nodded once, as if she was sure she was not making a dire mistake. As if she was sure that it would all be worth it. As if she was sure this single moment in time would not be her last.

At her side lay a dagger, with a swirling handle and blade. It had not been there before, and she knew what to do. She lifted it, and drew the keen edge over a palm. Blood bloomed and flowed, running ove her arm and fingers as she offered it to the thing that watched and waited.

A tongue, long and serpentine, cut in twain, flickered out of the skull and slid over the blood.

It was approved.



Wake!

Deep and thunderous, the silent voice blasted through her mind, shattering the darkness of sleep. Kassa’s eyes snapped open just as three arrows cut the air above her, vanishing into shadow. She hardly had time to even breathe when a strong arm suddenly snatched her up, and Len was hauling her to a mount of crooked boulders and a toppled cairn. They made it there just barely as more arrows streaked by, and in the distance Kassa could see them; slick, stealthy shades of men with arrows and blades set to kill.

She didn’t need to ask who they were, or what they wanted. She already knew, and one look at Len suggested he knew as well.

“Let me go!” she shouted, shoving Len away.

More arrows and bolts from bows and crossbows shot through the air. The rock formation trembled and cracked as a long spear smashed into the face. There were voices now, shouting, orders snapped and affirmations spoken. There was short pause, then footsteps, quiet and careful. Their would-be murderers were no careless fools.

Against the rock she clenched her fists, feeling her rage build. How dare they hunt her? How dare they attack them like cowards while they slept? These dogs had no idea who she was.

She stood up, silhouetting against the dark plains and night sky. It seemed she had lost her mind.

Then the temperature dropped.

Like a two-ton stone it dropped, ice forming around the rock and hoarfrost stretching beneath her feet. In less than second it was freezing. Icicles formed on the grass, and her breath fogged in the air. The enemies cried out in alarm as the cold surrounded them. Two in the front slipped on the slick, icy earth.

They had no idea.
 
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Kassa's shove didn't honestly do much to budge the larger Len, but her intent was clear, and he released her, sliding back to keep himself in cover as he tried to assess the situation further. He couldn't tell how many men or women were shooting at them, but judging from the speed of the volleys, it was no more than five, no less than three. He pursed his lips in thought, holding back a swear; His sword was still sitting at camp, and he was only clad in half armor. He'd need to be careful if he was going to come out of this unscathed.

He could hear the shouting of orders in the air; they were repositioning, and they'd be ready for him if he tried to move. Damn it, he'd prioritized Kassa first, and totally forgot about his own protection. Now they were both in a situation, and Len wasn't sure how they were going to get out of it. He clenches his teeth and looks over at Kassa. "I don't have my weapon, we're sitting ducks here. Do you have any idea--"

When he turned to look at his companion, he found her in a state much different than any he'd seen her in before. She looked as though she were in a quiet rage, her brow furrowed in rage and fists clenched in anger. Something was wrong, he could tell from that cold, far-off look in her eyes that didn't even register what he'd said.

"Kassa...?"

The ice seemed to begin to form from nowhere, surrounding Kassa and spreading outward as she stood to face their foes. It was as if the air around her itself had dropped to sub-zero temperatures, and indeed Len himself felt a chill run down his spine as he felt icicles forming on the sides of his armor.

He heard the clatter of bodies falling from where they were being attacked from, however; The icy ground wouldn't harm their enemies, but it would make it so that they couldn't keep themselves steady enough to aim. He had an opening! Len's blood began to course, his eyes dilating as he smelled a fight coming. "Kassa, you're brilliant!" He exclaimed before springing from his hiding spot and launching himself towards the enemies. He slid easily and quickly with the heavy armor that still adorned his legs, and now the group of four came quickly into his vision.

Two of them were already on the ground, struggling to get to their feet. They were harmless, so he slid past them to the pair in the back, still standing with bows being prepared. He twisted himself at the hip, sending himself into a spin on the ice before outstretching a leg to trip the right-most archer. He falls down in a heap. The spinning Len tucks into a roll to slow his momentum, the cold ground burning against his bare skin.

Still, he skids to a halt and flips over onto his hands and knees before rising carefully to his feet. The one he'd tripped was knocked out cold, and the two that Kassa had tripped up were still struggling. Now though, the fourth man had a bow trained right at Len....

Kassa Lia
 
A compliment on her supposed brilliance wasn’t expected, but it would have to do. Kassa’s eyes slid over the ice, a smirk on her face as she watched the two assassins slip and stumble and slip again. The ice was already beginning to melt, but the thin sheet of water forming over its surface only made their footing harder to gain. Curses were forming at their lips, yet even that was partially foiled as Len made his move.

He was fast, faster and more agile than any man in armor had a right to be. In the time Kassa turned her attention back to him, he had already downed one of the men and found some purchase on the frozen earth. It was impressive, but she saw too the one lone assassin, the only one still standing firm, had his bow trained on the Vanguard, notching an arrow to the string and pulling it back taut. There was little time to act…

… but a little time was all she needed.

Kasssa brought her hands together in a clap that resounded through the air and across the ground. All at once the temperature dipped low, and this time with it came spikes of ice, stalagmites reaching upward a foot or more from the ground. As they reached their greatest height Kassa brought her clasped hands close to her chest.

FWOOM

The air seemed to shake in a terrible fury as her form scattered, shattering like shards of glass. Only the shards were myriads of crows and ravens, those that feasted upon carrion. Hey screeched and screamed as they swept out in a fearsome wave, surrounding in an instant the man who threatened Len. Caught entirely by surprise he was knocked down by the avian assault, his arrow flying precariously close, but not close enough, by Len.

Finally the last two men had given up trying to stand, abandoning their bows for swords at their belts. They swung wildly as the birds came for them, and the blades cleaved through flesh and bone as they would through wet bread. Ravens and crows dropped in midflight, and soon the ice was stained with deep red blood.

Another, quiet boom sounded, and Kassa reappeared where she had been standing. She dropped to the ground. The ice immediately turned to slush.

One assassin raced towards her, sword adjacent to his side, ready to cleave her in half. The other, face a stony mask, pointed his sword a Len in a challenge.
 
Len had already mentally prepared himself to take an arrow; as long as he could shift and ensure it hit him in a non-vital area, he could hopefully keep fighting. He still had no idea what had come over Kassa, but he knew the toll that any kind of magic took on a body, and he couldn't rely on her to do this all on her own. Even so, it was with another powerful display that she shook the earth beneath Len's feet.

By the time he'd turned to look upon what she'd done, a massive flock of birds seemed to be all that remained of her, hurtling towards him and throwing his opponent off his balance just before Len was to be hit. The arrow zipped past his head, missing by inches. Len wasted no time in reaching down to take the blade the man had on his back for his own before drawing back and bringing the blade down on the man's neck to put him to a quick end.

He now owed Kassa his life twice over... She was quickly becoming his guardian angel, it seemed.

He turned quickly, wiping his newfound and bloodied blade against the surface of his armor before turning to the rest of their foes. The sight of the downed aggressors swinging and slaying the birds that Kassa had turned into brought his blood to a boil, and he couldn't explain why. Nevertheless, as they painted the ice with the blood of those birds, he used the distraction to meet their heads with his sword.

The reappearance of Kassa was a massive relief, but she looked exhausted. Considering the man running towards her in a bloody fury, that wasn't good. What was worse is that another of them seemed to come from nowhere, seeming to expect a one on one affair!

Len could not allow Kassa to be put in any further danger. She'd saved him once again. She had helped him time and again. He cared for her, deeply.

So, he made his choice.

Winding back with inhuman strength, he launched the blade at the assassin headed for Kassa Lia before turning to his own opponent and doubling back as he now faced him unarmed. Of course, he stood little chance against a blade without major injury, but Len was trained to improvise. Leaning down and gripping the waist of his armor, he pulls at the plates covering the sides of his legs, ripping them off and holding them in either hand as shields. The bare white flesh of his legs matched the ice, or now slush, and it looked as though Len may have just ruined some armor for this fight.

"Come on then. I'll strike you down without a weapon."

Kassa Lia
 
Surrounded by bloody feathers and fallen birds, the two assassins gurgled their last breath. But the danger was far from over. Drained of energy, Kassa gritted her teeth as the assassin charged forth. A hot, throbbing feeling of defiance filled her as the sword’s reflection glittered in her eyes. After her last incantation, she knew she didn’t have enough power to stop the attack with magic alone. She knew she couldn’t reach her boot knife in time. And she knew Len couldn’t save her now. But damn if she would die like a helpless maiden!

With the last remnants of her strength, she rose, and drew upon the power deep in her soul, mentally chanting the names of the dark things that gave her the gifts she wielded. The unvoiced sounds of those names echoed through her mind as she besought their aid. All the while, the assassin raced toward her. His footsteps, heavy and hard and sleek all at once, pounded the earth.

Kassa would never know what she would have done when a sickening sound, like rotten fruit exploding, assailed her ears. She stared as hot blood spattered the melting snow. The assassin collapsed to the earth before her, dead before he hit the ground with the hurled sword buried in his head. A strange feeling of relief surged through Kassa as she fell back to her knees. She suddenly felt very weak, and could only watch as Len faced the last of their attackers. No swordswoman herself, she could still tell talent and skill when she saw it, and she saw both in the assassin challenging Len.

The assassin didn’t respond to Len with words, only emitting a short, harsh bark of laughter before he swung his sword. He didn’t aim at Len; he aimed at one of the makeshift shields, so hard the clang rang through bone and ear alike. As the sword edge scraped and rose sparks on one of the plates, the blade shimmered, pulsing with an alien light. The surface, a beauty of folded steel and finest craftsmanship seemed to hum and hiss as the assassin drew back and swung again. This wasn’t a normal sword.

He was fast, terrifyingly fast – and strong. What he lacked in agility he compensated with sheer speed and brute force. He struck again and again, hacking the shields, slowly but surely whittling away at Len’s endurance. His eyes gleamed with murderous intent, and finally spoke a single word as his sword screamed along the scarred surface of one of the vanguard’s barriers.

“YIELD!”
 
Len had undoubtedly made a critical mistake in underestimating this last opponent. He'd realized it as soon as he'd felt the first powerful blow upon his makeshift protection. This was not a mere meeting of steel and iron; this man's blade ebbed with magical energies, and it was chewing it's way through his armor plates much quicker than it would otherwise. The force behind every swing was nearly inhuman in ferocity, pushing Len back slowly and shaking his bones. He could do nothing but wince and retreat as he was hacked away at.

There was no Kassa to save him this time, and he'd given his blade up to protect her. No, if he was to live through this and continue his journey, then he would need to tap into his own latent ability, harness the powers that had made him a force to be reckoned with in the days of his glory and service. He didn't know if he was still capable of using the Arts, or if his body could handle it. Nevertheless, it looked to be the only way to prevent himself from meeting his end here and now. He heard the fearsome scream of his foe as his sword finally blew away one of his shields, sending its scarred and twisted frame hurtling away uselessly.

Len doubled back quickly, attempting to maintain his focus. If he could remember what he'd known all that time ago, grasp the Arts of his youth and use them even half as well as he once could, he could down this foe decisively... The Iglin Art, one of speed and agility unmatched... That was the one he aimed to utilize. He needed to maintain his focus on something important to him, something he deemed vital...

There wasn't much time, mere seconds in fact before his assailant would be back upon him. In his mind, he attempted desperately to visualize Yura, but it was to no avail. For some reason he couldn't grasp, she wasn't evoking the emotions thoughts of her usually did. There was no more time to spare, his foe was upon him. In a desperate attempt, he turned to lock eyes with Kassa.

He felt the rush of energy course through his body as his eyes changed to a deep red hue, the Iglin Art awakening upon sight of somebody so preciously vital to him. Len's preception began to warp and change shape, the edges of his sight blurring, but the enemy directly in front of him crystal clear, and moving at the pace of a snail.

To Kassa and the Swordsman, Len would be moving at a blistering pace as he sped towards his foe, brandishing the iron plate as a weapon and striking the brute across the face with it, knocking him to the ground from the sheer velocity of the impact. He was quick to capitalize, wrestling the blade from the falling man and claiming it for himself. The Iglin arts made him far too fast to counter, but it was fading fast. By the time he plunged the blade down at the prone man, he was already slowing down, and the pain was wracking his body.

Kassa Lia
 
It was over. Kassa winced as the clash of metal rang through the air. The twisted form of the shield smashed into the ground yards away, and for a moment the only other sound was the cry of fierce victory from Len’s assailant. The assassin raised his sword, the blade still aflame with sorcery and ancient spells. In a moment, he would be upon Len and the Vanguard would be dead. Dread, true dread, filled Kassa as she watched in horror.

She didn’t understand her fear for this pale man who’d befriended her in such a short time, and was struggling to compose herself into feeling the comforting, familiar indifference when Len met her eyes. There was a flash unseen, a spark lit, and all at once the tide of the battle turned.

Never before had Kassa seen anything like what Len used then. No stranger to magic herself – far from it, in fact – she was nevertheless held spellbound as she witnessed the downfall of the assassin who just instances before had been overwhelming by leagues the Vanguard. Len moved with all the grace of his dancing, augmented with the sweeping speed of a viper, knocking the assassin to the ground. In a savage twist he stole the sword and plunged the glittering point into the would-be killer.

Eyes wide with the shock and rage of being defeated, the assassin struggled to speak, though what words he intended would never be heard. All he could manage was to spit at Len, a gob of saliva hitting the Vanguards’ cheek before the assassin fell limp. The terrifying speed Len had wielded faded quickly, and the strength and ferocity Kassa witnessed was replaced by a worn, unsteadied visage of a man that had nearly died.

“Len!” the name burst from her lips. Dredging up shreds of strength and will of what was left to her, Kassa struggled to her feet, rushing to the man who had protected her at all costs. She stumbled over bloody bodies before falling to her knees beside Len, shoving the last corpse away before hands were moving helplessly over the Vanguard’s bruised form. There were no severe lacerations she could see, but that was no blessing. Cracked bones, fractured limbs, and deadlier internal injuries that could not be immediately detected were harder to tend. She looked around frantically, but the only ones nearby were ghosts and phantoms. She turned back to Len, terror threatening to claim her.

He’s still alive, at least… he’s still…

“YOU FOOL!” Kassa suddenly screamed, fury full in her voice. “Don’t you ever do that again! Do you think I can’t handle myself? Do you think I can’t protect myself, you witless buffoon?!”

She slapped him. Hard.
 
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