What he did next shocked Emerelda. He doubled over and laughed. Emerelda stares as he slapped his thigh laughing extremely hard. She took deep breathes, her body trembling with fury. How dare he laugh at this moment? How dare he mock her?
"Emmett Jackson!" She yelled over the laughter, "This is not a matter of laughter."
He shook his head, "The Midnight Assassin, me?" and he went back laughing.
Emerelda, furious, reaches for the sword that was strapped over her shoulders and points it directly at him glaring, "You won't think this is funny when you find yourself dying."
He stops laughing at last. Slowly he looks up as she raised her long sword along with him. When he was looking up at her with eyebrows raised, she had her sword pointed at his throat.
"Is there any last words?"
Emmett didn't look faze with the fact a sharp sword was pointed at death point, "The Golden Sword of Garlin," he says lazily instead, "One would have thought it to be a legend. Until now, here it is, right before my eyes."
She pushed deeper, "Don't start now. I would kill you, like the way you watched my brother bled to death, I shall do the same."
He frowns, the only flicker of surprised, "The prince is dead?"
"Don't play surprised. Now, I ask again, are there any last words?"
He rolled his eyes, "I am not the Midnight Assassin, Princess." He says calmly.
"Highness!"
"What?"
"You regard me as you're highness, with respect."
He blinks, "I am not the Midnight Assassin you're highness."
"Liar!" she screams. Why won't she just kill him, what's holding her back?
He sat at ease, not moving, back straight with his head high, "Temper, temper." He murmured.
She pushed the tip of her sword, and he's eye twitched, "I am not the Midnight Assassin." He said again. This time she waited for the lie, but none came after it.
He's too good, she thought to herself, too good.
He tilts his head carefully and smiles, "Well? You and I both know I'm telling the truth. Why don't you put down your shiny toy and have a little chat about this misunderstanding?"
"No!" she snaps, "Don't try to get out of this! You are the Midnight Assassin. There is no misunderstanding, you fit the descriptions. You took down all four men less than a minute without hesitation. You have a sword. You live in the middle of a forest, a place where no eyes could watch you. No witness."
He sighs, "Is that why you followed me, because out thought I was the Assassin?"
"I wasn't sure, I had to find out. And I was correct."
"Hmm," He looked bored, "How about I break this down for you, Princess. First, I was being generous, I truly did thought you needed help. No assassin would have bothered, and no assassin would bring you to their hide out. Second, I have a sword for reasons because of the Assassin. Everyone in Garlin has a weapon when they go out from their sanctuary, we all want to protect our self and not be the next target. Third, yes I have a gift, the gift of speed. Be proud that you guessed that correct."
Emerelda hated herself for this, but sighs. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she lowers her sword and sheaths it. Emmett leans back with arms crossed watching her as she picks up the chair and sat down. They were back at square one.
"Thank you," he said once she was seated, "It was starting to get annoying, the gold sword that is."
She didn't say anything; she only scowled at the reflection ahead of her.
He went on, "If you wanted to kill me, or the Assassin, you might still end up dead. The gift of speed is no joke. By the time you thought I was dead once you struck, you'll find you're self entering the great beyond world of the dead."
"What now?" she mumbled.
"You tell me."
"I shall take my leave then." She starts standing.
"Do you have a place to stay at night?"
He hesitates, then, "No, though it would be improper to stay. Besides, I caused enough trouble one night."
"It was quite embarrassing. You should have seen the look on your face." She looks at him annoyed, and he heaves a sigh, "I supposed you were consumed with anger, that is understandable. However, I don't think I can let you go. See, you're not the only one who has the same goal."
However, I don't think I can let you go. See, you're not the only one who has the same goal."
Emerelda waited. His gold eyes held determination, his lips shut in a firm line. She waited for him to give an answer, though she could tell he was struggling to keep his thoughts silent.
"No?" he finally repeats.
She nods, "No."
"I request to work with you as both you and I desperately want to end the assassin, and the answer you give me is a no?"
"Indeed. Would you like me to explain why?"
He scoffs, "Is it because I'm a male, a person you cannot trust. And simply the person you thought was the assassin."
She raised her eyebrows, "Particularly. However the main reason is because I do not know you. I have no intention to work with you and your goal. You're not the only one in Garlin who wants the Assassin killed."
He chuckles without a trace of humor, "I see. You want the title for yourself."
She leans back, her sword pressed hard on her back, "Yes, I'll like to kill him myself."
He shook his head, "Come with me." And he stood up. Emerelda didn't get up and watched him walked to the second door. He stops and turns around, "Well?"