"Br-Brother?" Troy whispered without breaking eye contact with the stranger.
It was as if he was spellbound, becoming submissive to the person he had never met before. He couldn't figure out the emotion swimming in the stranger's eyes, giving the impression that they weren't sane at all.
"Yes, brother," The stranger then stepped back, her smile unfading, "It was within my expectations that the Duchess wouldn't speak anything about me to you. Still, I'm quite disappointed."
While the mysterious person was preoccupied with Troy, Bard was doing his best to summon enough guts to move. However, as he glanced down, horror struck his senses.
'What in tarnation…!'
Since the dress had a skirt similar to that of a ballgown, Troy might not have seen what the stranger had in store. Meanwhile, Bard was now behind the stranger since he had placed himself further than necessary from his master.
There, being pulled by the stranger by her hair, was Ophelia's naked body riddled with bruises and lacerations. The wounds look like they were inflicted by the sharp claws of a beast, boring deep into Ophelia's flesh.
The trail of the stranger was tainted with Ophelia's blood. If he was right, Bard concluded that the trail stretched all the way back to Ophelia's bedroom. Although, that didn't really answer the important questions.
First and foremost, they had to unveil the stranger's identity. He returned his attention to the conversation of the two people near him.
"Come to think of it. I forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me."
Prior to speaking, the stranger let go of their hold on Ophelia. The sound of a skull breaking upon hitting the marble floor made its way to Troy's ears. It was similar to the sound of an egg, having a slightly thicker shell, being cracked. The echo made Troy imagine all sorts of scenarios, one being close to reality.
From that point on, Troy had no regard to give to the stranger. Their identity was not important anymore. He just wanted to have them killed. Troy faced his guard and nodded at him. Bard understood the cue, so he tightened his grip on his sword.
"Ilya von Bismarck, the daughter of Hevelia of the Bismarck House. You see, my mother was the rightful matriarch of this Dukedom."
The introduction confused both Troy and Bard, with Troy having it worse. What plans they might have had for the lady had gone with the wind in that instant.
"Ilya von… Bismarck?" Troy uttered in a scarcely audible voice.
Without a doubt, he knew of that surname. The House of Bismarck was a prominent family of knights. In the Empire, only sorcerers could have the title of a knight. By virtue of their prowess, they garnered the fear of the nobles and the admirations of the common people.
Troy had heard that his mother planned to incarcerate the Bismarck Family. Withal, the trial was postponed indefinitely all of a sudden. Hearing the surname once more, it struck him as to what really went down.
"Yes, that's my name. And you? I haven't heard of your full name before. I do know that you're named Troy."
Peculiar, that's how the conversation felt to Troy. He couldn't help but sense the cordiality behind every word that Ilya uttered. Be that as it may, that cordiality was like the patience of a Wild Boar. The moment that he said something wrong, it would be replaced by the hostility that's lurking behind her smile.
Troy had to make a decision after realizing that the woman in front of him was a threat. It was easy for him to put the blame on her regarding the incident at the Banquet Hall. Both he and Bard had to live in order to inform the Duke and the Duchess.
Pleasing Ilya was the only method that Troy could think of, considering that he wasn't a gifted combatant. As for Bard, he might have a chance. But first, they had to be cautious and figure out Ilya's abilities.
With much reluctance, Troy bowed his head and said, "Tr- Troy Vhelian Gertrude, the third-- I mean, the fourth child of the Duke and Duchess of Gertrude. I am pleased to meet you, Lady Ilya von Bismarck."
"Oh dear, you even included me in the family. I'm quite pleased." Cheerfully did Ilya reply, her hands joined in glee.
Troy immediately noticed how blood-soaked her hands were. He recognized a fear beyond what he had encountered. Still and all, he had to stand his ground.
"Is that so? I'm glad."
The young man then averted his gaze from Ilya. Unfortunately, it landed on the sight behind her back. Troy felt his breath get caught up in his throat. It was someone's feet. The lamentable thing was that he had a good hunch on who that someone was.
In the intervening time, Bard was bidding for an opportunity to attack. As a trained soldier, he had pride in his skills, all the more when he's protecting his master.
'No matter if it's a man or a woman, I can win. Though, that's unless they are sorcerers. In a fight against them, time will be my ally. I have to strike first. We can't delay any further for the sake of measuring her up.'
Bard's head was filled with the combination of his apprehensions and hopes. There was also the option of him running for the Banquet Hall and informing the Duke. However, that would be in exchange for risking Troy's life. He had no doubts that he would be punished greatly for doing something like that, even if the order came from Troy himself.
'She doesn't have her guard up. It might be on purpose to lure me in. I'll use that to my ad--'
Before Bard could even conclude his contemplation, the coldest of shivers ran down his spine. Beads of sweat of agitation riddled his forehead, eventually descending his quivering cheeks. The sensation was one that he was accustomed to, having served in the war several times.
Bard dropped his gaze and saw a pale hand piercing his chest.
At that very second, he could hear the beating of his heart that was crying for freedom. Thenceforward, his heart was squeezed until it burst inside his body. With a choking groan, Bard lost his consciousness and fell to the ground.
In one swift gesture, Ilya rid her hand off of the guard's blood. She then returned her attention towards Troy, who was wide-eyed at his guard's death.
"Oh my, I apologize. I didn't mean to do that."
Leaving aside how sympathetic she sounded, Troy didn't trust Ilya's words. He was shaking in anger and fear as he looked at Bard in the eyes. His guard met his end just as simple as that. He didn't want to believe nor did he want to deny the truth.
Sans a warning, Troy felt that his face was being caressed. The coldness of Ilya's fingertips and the warmth of Bard's blood made his stomach churn.
But the most daunting of all was he was forced to stare at Ilya's eyes once more. Far from her cordiality, the glints on her hazy orbs were now malevolent.
"Don't worry, dear brother. Please trust your sister. I won't hurt you…" Ilya's smile widened even more, almost reaching the corners of her eyes, "I won't hurt you, yes, but not for long."