Death can easily be administered to anyone regardless of how successful they were in life.
A god agrees with the nihilist in this story.
There are many tragedies in this story. Many fortunes arising, too.
But the god and the antichrist don't car...
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Petty Quarrel
Varbridge Palace, Ember's Rock, Saprea
Honestly, I don't think it's worth the mention, but to understand the character of Cesare, I will delve into the events which occurred during the evening before the dinner. Sparring on the training grounds between his closest friends was the most fun Cassius had had in days. He and Prince Maaiz engaged in a scrimmage as Maaiz demonstrated a clever technique to disarm someone.
"Cousin," Cassius hollered with a playful smile curling on his lips. "I want to show you something that Maaiz has just taught me."
Ezio, a golden-haired young man, had his face plunged in the fountain. He lifted his head up and carded a hand through his damps locks while wiping his eyes. "What's the point if there aren't any powers?"
"If there are no powers is it worth the trouble. There's no fun," Jhaan piped up. "No upper hand, no challenge."
"It's almost childish," Ezio chuckled. "Playing with swords—how mundane!"
"The most mundane skills are the most necessary," Prince Maaiz replied with jest, cleverly spinning around his sword.
"Join us!" Cassius pleaded with a grin.
Prince Maaiz smiled and mused. "Swords over powers any way, I tell you. If you ask me, a fight is not a fight unless there is a blade."
"May I join?" Cesare asked, unraveling his arm from Mikhailo's shoulder. He ran up to the group as Mikhailo slowly treaded behind him (even though he seemed less and less inclined to want to follow.)
They all knew the boy by name and reputation, of course. Handsome, in that cold Naparian style of the Talones, brash and good with a sword but not much with his brains. Cassius pursed his lips. Personally, I gathered that Cesare played the perfect wrestling heel; arrogant, overly aggressive, yet the first to run away when the odds were not in his favor.
And Cassius was a veteran of nothing, was untested in the ways of war and politics. He was a green boy—green for the fallow fields of the summertime, green like the sprouting of fresh flowers. In time, he would have learnt, yet I had doubts that Cesare would let him live long enough to do so.
No one replied timely enough so Loran, an old childhood friend of Cesare, tossed him a rapier and warmly welcomed him.
"I'll have to warn you, Cassius is a spry opponent," said Maaiz.
The sport began with Cassius blocking Cesare's incoming attack to the legs. Cesare fought well with both hands so when the two swords clashed he quickly switched the dominance to his right hand and brought the sword over Cassius's head. Cassius managed to think fast enough to block him again, causing the sound of more metal to ring through the courtyard.
Cesare was doing more of the attacking until Cassius moved his sword around and almost struck his opponent in the chest, though Cesare countered the sword, causing both blades to drag to the ground, which in turn caused Cassius to lose his balance and stumble. Cesare lunged his weapon at him as he ducked, rotating positions.
Loran was on his toes, having a curious stare. When he saw Cesare lunge at Cassius, he shifted the weight on his feet as if he were so eager to get into action but he was held back by a calm Alessandro.
Clashes of steel, grunts, and panting overwhelmingly smothered the faint chatter coming from the visiting guests. Cesare gritted his teeth but his face was unreadable. There was no fear or invitational smirk. He was going for his head, but Cassius kept up a good defense and pushed their swords down, shoving Cesare to the ground, hoping that he'd fall. But Cesare recovered quickly, already back in the perfect stance by the time he was pushed away. Cassius jabbed his sword in over-calculated spots that could've had preventable repercussions. Even Sandro knew that if his brother moved any slower, Cesare's oncoming blow would've taken off an arm.
Their swords crossed again and when Cassius cut his sword in the air horizontally, Cesare jumped back. Sandro watched with a constant and still expression but eventually he seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails of his left hand. Loran had his face scrunched up with worry. Ezio seemed highly intrigued. Jhaan was more of a cheerleader to boost both of the opponent's morales. Mikhailo seemed to be psychoanalytically studying Cesare's behavior, and Prince Maaiz was nothing but perplexed by the tension.
Cassius was making more violent attacks, having Cesare move back again and again until Cesare thrashed his sword back at Cassius, causing him to lose his balance. It was now Cassius who was moving backward.
Cassius fought defensively well enough, but to Cesare, it seemed inappropriate that he had the audacity to do so, so he elbowed Cassius in the face. Everyone heard a loud groan and a crackle.
Loran stepped forward to intervene but Sandro, keen to the motion of Loran, held his arm in front of his chest to stop him once again.
Cassius looked up as he swayed a little. He held his hand to his bleeding nose, eyeing Desyrae's hostile brother menacingly. Cassius took this as a loss and turned around, a surrender. He walked to Loran, who was pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. But Cesare still persisted and tried attacking him while he was caught off guard. Luckily for Cassius, he looked over his shoulder and was able to dodge it.
"What gives?!" Jhaan exclaimed.
They both began the fight again, prompted by Cesare. Cassius was blocking every strike but it was not enough to stop Cesare. Cesare attacked vigorously which led to Cassius punching him in the gut and tossing him onto the ground. It was no longer a game. One could see that in Cassius's bewildered and choleric manner.
Nobody knew what to do, really. Not even Cassius, who wasn't looking to pick a fight anymore.
Cesare groaned as he stood up. He bent down and put one hand on his knee while the other was on the handle of his rapier as he caught his breath. He chuckled. Cesare was not himself.
Cassius took this as a chance to strike back even harder. The fight was beyond rigorous. Cassius was yelling as he lunged forward on every ambush. The blood trickling down his nose and down to his chin was less than a minor inconvenience.
Cesare blocked Cassius's assault and their swords met in the air. With haste, Cesare spun himself into Cassius, elbowed him in the chest, and took the sword out of his hand. Now Cesare was armed with two swords, standing offensively and Cassius was left reeling backward in astonishment.
Cassius stood firmly with nothing but fists left to defend him. Cesare seemed eager to continue the fight with such an advantage. He seemed to be compelling himself to assassinate his sister's husband at that very moment.
As Cesare began to appear more hostile, Sandro detached himself from the group of spectators coolly. Sandro calmly stepped in between them and unsheathed a dagger from his scabbard, and Cesare promptly drew both weapons back then held the points face down.
"It's customary for the prince's adversary to bow after the fight," Loran spoke up.
"In Naparios it is customary for the loser to bow first—"
"This is Saprea," Loran said affirmatively.
Following the silence, Maaiz Bakir coughed. "Well, would you look at that? The sun is setting. We've been out here all day."
Picking up on what he was insinuating, Ezio proposed that they all get ready for the dinner party and they all excused themselves on the plea of engagement with preparations.
