The Black Angel

Unbeknownst to Priscilla, she had just caused another scene that would shake Arivaul in a way no one had ever done before.

“You caught the man nicknamed The Black Assassin. One of the most notorious individuals in Arivaul.”

Lucina’s words kept echoing in her mind alongside the neverending murmurs of the adventurers that were in the guild’s hall to witness that unimaginable feat. However, as much as she was happy to contribute to the safety of the city, Priscilla was letting out constant long sighs that could only be chalked up to excessive weariness.

“‘Try not to cause a scene.’ I was advised once, but nooo… of course it has to happen with me.” She grumbled as she was making her way back to the inn. “Not that it doesn’t help me of course, but still…”

She briefly closed her eyes and recalled the receptionist’s words.

“You might get a promotion with this bounty. As infamous as this man is, it wouldn’t be surprising if they raise you to iron rank.”

She couldn’t help but sigh again.

‘As long as I get to enter the dungeon it should be fine…’

As she made her way to the inn’s street, she noticed a few guards with halberds standing guard around the inn’s entrance. That instantly sent a jolt of adrenaline through Priscilla’s body as she broke in a jog until she reached the establishment.

“Halt.” One of the guards stood in front of her with his halberd at the ready. “What business do you have in this place?”

“What business do I have? I rented a room here, what happened?”

“A brawl with some local thugs, we are investigating who is responsible for it so we ask you to-”

“A kid was there, did you happen to see her? Black hair, dark blue eyes-”

“Huh? No, there was no child involved but-” He was briefly stopped by another guard that approached him and whispered into his ear. “What? Hm… her? You mean the Captain’s? Hm. Ok.” He then turned his attention to her once again. “You can go in, just don’t stay in the hall.”

“Alright, thank you.”

She rushed past the guards and headed in the hall. Some wooden tables and chairs were broken with a few shards of shattered glass sprayed on the floor, blood was also seen in small quantities across the floor but thankfully none were big enough to warrant worry from her. She did notice Gerolt and Karla being treated by a chirurgeon near the kitchen, which upon seeing her, greeted her with a small hand gesture. She returned with a brief wave before heading upstairs. Her rushed footsteps against the wooden stairs echoed with each dry thud before she eventually reached the doorway to the room she rented.

There was a cold feeling in her stomach as she quickly knocked on the door.

“Rio, are you there?”

She could hear a faint shuffle inside the room before an eventual answer came through the door.

“Pris, is that you?”

The knight let out a relieved sigh as she spoke up.

“Yeah. It’s me, can you open the door?”

“Okay.”

After a distinct sound of the key being slotted in the keyhole a ‘kachunk’ noise came from the door as it was unlocked. Priscilla gently opened the door and entered before closing it behind her. Upon looking at Rionara, the knight felt something strange. She had an aura much like her commander would have when participating in mock battles.

An aura of death. Priscilla closed her eyes for a brief moment and recalled the moments she spent with the young woman before her and the cold sensation started to subside. She then cleared her throat, opened her eyes and asked.

“Did something happen while I was out?”

Rionara tilted her head a bit before shaking it and replied.

“Aside from the fight downstairs… not really, why?”

“You seem different.”

“Different? How?”

“How do I put it…? More mature, maybe?” She scratched the side of her head while trying to push away the thoughts she had about the young woman in front of her. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Despite Priscilla thinking it was rude of her to mention ‘maturity’ in front of a grown young woman such as her, Rionara instead smiled and said.

“Hehe, I guess I’ll finally catch up to my age, huh?”

The knight walked forward and kneeled in front of her. Priscilla’s eyes had a mixture of fondness and sadness as she started to speak.

“Rio. I will ask you once again. What is it that you wish to do? It is not too late for me to arrange someone to take you to Arcadia.”

“Huh…? Why are you saying that again?”

“It’s just… after some things happened, I’m not sure if you’ll be safe even if I am around you.”

Her right hand started to close tightly. This wasn’t the first time she had an attempt at her life, but back then she was just a squire, a rookie. After she had become one of the royal knights answering directly to the Queen, she thought she was above this. An individual that stood above her peers, indomitable, untouchable.

Her prowess with the blade and magic was praised by many, so much that she was recognized by the hard work she put in those skills. But what happened just a few hours ago made her realize many things. However, Rionara knew nothing of it—which prompted her to ask the knight.

“Why? Is there anyone that can beat you in a fight?”

“Not in a fair fight, at least I like to believe. But life is fleeting, any mistake can be fatal and I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe at my side all the time. Just today a man tried to take my life.”

Those final words made Rionara’s eyes widen in shock.

“B-but you aren’t hurt, are you?!”

Priscilla shook her head.

“No, but if I wasn’t wearing chainmail, that dagger would’ve found its way straight into my back.” She removed her jacket and showed the thin line perforated right in the middle of its back. “That is why I decided to ask you once again. Are you completely sure you want to stay by my side?”

“I’m… I’m no stranger to danger.” Rionara straightened her back and puffed her chest as she brought her trembling hand atop of her breast. “B-besides I haven’t told you what I can do. I-I can fight too!”

She extended her left hand forward and the middle of her palm started to glow light blue—in a few seconds the agglomeration of mana turned into a modest mote of orange fire dancing in her palm.

Unlike gathering mana from one’s core, Rionara was using the mana present in the air to cast the spell. Priscilla was familiar with that method of casting spells, but to find out that someone as young as her to be able to perform such a feat was unheard of.

Although impressed, the knight couldn’t just let her stay based on a demonstration alone. Practical experience in combat would be needed to keep herself safe—simply knowing how to cast a spell wasn’t enough.

Rionara was genuinely proud that she was able to produce enough mana, let alone cast a simple fire spell, but once she looked at Priscilla’s eyes she knew from instinct that just wasn’t enough.

“B-but, this isn’t the only spell I know! I-I also know ice magic-!”

“Rio.” Priscilla left her jacket on her own knee before gently putting out the small flame of the young woman’s hand with her own by smothering it with mana. “You don’t need to prove yourself to me. I just want you to be prepared. Anything can happen out there, to you, to me.”

“I… I know…” She swallowed dry and sniffled once. “I just… I just want to be by your side, Pris.”

Those words felt like a dagger cutting deep through Priscilla’s heart. But if her title meant anything, she had to put Rionara’s safety above all else.

The knight took a deep breath before putting her jacket on again. The young woman in front of her was a splitting image of her younger self when she trained under the Queen.

“I see… but you have to promise me one thing. Do not ever put yourself in danger, if something happens either to me or someone else around you, you must run away.”

At that moment Rionara lifted her head and couldn’t contain her happiness as she suddenly threw herself into a hug around Priscilla’s neck.

“I promise! If that’s what it takes to stay with you, then I—I’ll become the best at running away!”

Priscilla hesitantly hugged her back while caressing the back of her head. Sadness and guilt weighed down her heart, but the more she wanted to set Rionara free of her past, the more that young woman wanted to stay by her side.

It was illogical, dangerous even, but the knight couldn’t help but want to extend a helping hand, even if her own were already soaked deep in blood.

Once Rionara let go, Priscilla slowly stood up and was about to speak up before someone knocked on the door behind her. She turned around while her left hand instinctively moved to the scabbard of her weapon.

“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…”