Arcadia's Ignoble Knight: The Sorceress of Ashtown

A Knight of Assassins

Within the darkness, Caspian woke up with a start, his eyes snapping open to find a gray ceiling over his head.

Wearing a small frown, he looked around, taking note of the intricate decorations surrounding him. Hanging along the stone walls were paintings and beautifully crafted weapons that were meant to be looked at, not used. Several gorgeous sets of furniture was spread throughout the bedchamber, each one made from a dark wood with a lacquered finish. There was even a sitting area that had a ritzy-looking table made of glass, with three chairs that had intricately carved patterns inlaid with gold. Like all of the rooms within Dorehan Tower, his room was posh and ostentatious, a place fit for kings.

There was nothing out of place. It looked exactly as it had right before he went to sleep.

So, why do I feel so uneasy?

Climbing out of bed, Caspian's feet sank into the soft carpet. The cool night air touched his bare skin, leaving goosebumps on his chest. His ears twitched several times, prickling, though not from the cold.

Padding over to where he'd stashed his clothes, his feet making nary a sound, he grabbed his sword and sheath, which leaned against an ornamental armour with a glossy finish. Even though there didn't appear to be any danger, his instincts told him that something was afoot—and he'd long since learned to trust those instincts. They'd saved him a number of times in the past. Including...

He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on such thoughts.

Next, Caspian grabbed his headband and wrapped around his head. His ears twitched some, but he ignored the minor discomfort that covering them caused. He felt naked without his headband.

He was just about to don his shirt, when his instincts, already on edge from feeling some unknown threat hanging in the air, blared inside of his mind.

He rolled along the ground, coming to his feet several yards away. A quick glance at where he'd been standing showed two throwing knives had sunken into the carpet, their polished surface glinting in the moonlight.

He narrowed his eyes. Following the only trajectory those weapons could have possibly taken, he gazed out the window, yet there was nothing there―nothing but white curtains billowing in a gentle breeze.

He walked forward, slowly, cautiously, like a hunter searching for prey, his feet seeming to linger for several seconds before moving again. While his eyes could not see anybody, his instincts were telling him that someone had entered the room. He felt their presence, like a prickle on the back of his neck. His hairs stood on end, and his heartbeat raced as adrenaline pumped through his body.

His green eyes flickering in the pale moonlight, Caspian surveyed the interior, his gaze sharp as they cut through the night. Where were they hiding? Not to the right, nor to the left. They were not behind him or in front of him. No matter how many degrees he turned, there was no one there. So, then, where could they have...

... His eyes widened.

Above!

Caspian rolled along the ground just in time to avoid getting impaled by another pair of throwing knives. Upon kipping back up to his feet, he looked up to see someone hanging there, suspended on the ceiling as if they were defying gravity. Their hands were spread out like a cross, and strange handholds made from what appeared to be some type of plant kept them from falling to the floor.

Is that... Nature Magic?

His internal question would go unanswered. Now that they had been spotted, the figure launched themselves at him like a predator pouncing on its prey. Caspian moved to avoid being impaled by two sharp and pointy objects, leaping backwards several times to put some distance between him and his assailant. The person who attacked him struck the space that he'd been standing on, the daggers in their hands sinking into the soft carpet.