Damsel Indeed

2. Fate's Sense of Humor

His stance was perfect, as if he'd done it a thousand times, and there was a certain air of deadly leisure in it. The longsword, an excellently crafted one as well, pressed further into his skin and he was sure he was going to have a scar from this if he got out of it alive.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, raising his arms in a sign of truce.

"Alright, man of few words. I understand. Let me just get it."

"Slowly."

He'd no sooner reached the coin purse about his neck than the whistle of wind made his assailant tuck and roll before him, a bow drawn and its arrow missing. A distant thud carrying the sound of its purchase to them. Eric looked at the tree at his side, a first arrow embedded in it. Off by inches.

The assassins had found him. He pulled his sword.

"Get down, you fool!"

Eric shook his head at the boy. No Löwenkind had ever backed down from a fight. He grit his teeth and took a defensive stance. The dark figure side stepped him easily and pulled their own sword, shrugging as Eric had dismissed his command.

"Your funeral."

The sounds of men marching forward let them know they were surrounded. The boy in black shifted so they were back to back as they faced the coming onslaught. The first person to come out of the underbrush was dressed all in a faded green to help them hide in the trees and foliage. A clever camouflage. Although he was quickly cut down, and the prince had only taken half a step to engage them. It was not his kill.

There was no time to focus on the bloody knife embedded in his throat though.

A man came out running at him, sword and dagger drawn and a shout as he lunged for the prince. Eric dodged and parried his sword, but had to kick the lesser blade from his grasp as it swung for him. The assassin was not so easily thwarted though, as he put his full strength into his sword.

Eric was pushed back, but blow for blow he was keeping up. It dawned on him these were lesser assassins, or at least this one was. Still, he could hold his own against a prince of the Palacials. That was something worth bragging about. And he probably would if he killed him.

The blade came down hard, and he pushed it back with all his might. He was preparing to thrust and run the blaggard through, but in an instant--as though time had stood still for him to see this too quick moment--the boy in black dashed backwards, went onto his hands and back, and as he came up in passing behind his foe rotated and slit his throat before returning to parry the sword of his own assailant.

Eric's jaw dropped.

He took a step back to see the carnage about him.

The team of assassins that had come upon them were easily being dispatched by the boy, this forest robber.

The prince watched with a quicker eye as the youth's deftness with blades became overwhelmingly apparent. He was lithe and faster than he'd expected. The assassins were no match. It was a wonder he had never thought to be an assassin himself, he was better than most he had seen.

The hood and tied kerchief about his nose and mouth only allowed the smallest glimpse of his eyes. Green. Dark forest green.

"Is anyone gonna let me down from here? Anyone? Eric?"

It took him a moment to register the bodies around him were no longer moving. He glanced up to his friend and felt a tug about his neck before realizing his coin purse had been taken. The black cloak of the robber disappeared behind a fallen log and that was all he saw of him.