Elysia 'the black cat' member of the Platinum rank group Ragnarök. One of the group of adventurers who had accepted a contract to work in the sewers. She knew that it would have been worth her while to thoroughly investigate the adventuring parties as well.
"What do you want, girl? Money? Promotion? I can get you both; I have compromising information from the guildmaster of this city's branch, I can get your group ranked quickly, but it will take time." She moved a little closer. The cat girl had relaxed a bit when she saw how cowed the other was. Soon it would be time to strike.
"No, I think I want your head."
As Elysia spoke, Helstaff attacked with the speed of a snake, but to her surprise, the catgirl parried the blow and sparks flew where the steel blades met. Elysia kicked out and caught Helstaff in the shin, sending pain shooting through his leg. He barely managed to jump back to get out of range of the catgirl's thrust. He knew that he had to keep his distance, that he had to take advantage of his longer weapon.
They circled in front of each other, moving with the precision of masters as they searched for a gap in the opponent's defense. The swords spun and gleamed in the light of the two lanterns. They moved too fast for him to follow them with the human eye; they danced with a life of their own and looked for openings that would lead them to the opponent's body. Helstaff allowed himself a smirk as he stabbed into Elysia's arm; then the frown turned into a smile as he opened a hideous cut above the young girl's eye.
Very soon, the blood that would fall would blind him. Both were breathing heavily, but Fritz Helstaff knew that he would win in this duel. He could feel it. For now, he would just go on the defensive. It was about time.
♦ ♦ ♦
Dhalthar heard the noise from above. It looked like a dance was taking place upstairs, as heavy boots thumped against the stone floor. Good-good, he thought; it was lucky that he had arrived at that moment. Apparently, Fritz Helstaff's enemies had followed him into his lair, and were now in the process of murdering him.
Murder had a long and honorable history in politics, and Dhalthar was tempted to let things take their course. Allowing the man-thing to die would satisfy his sense of despicable malice. But as pleasant as the thought of him was, he couldn't afford the pleasure, for it would interfere too much with the grand plan.
He kicked Bonebreaker, and the rat-troll raised its bloody muzzle from the remains of his food and snarled at him. Dhalthar glared at him to make the slave feel her will. Slowly, the rat-troll rose, and the two of them ascended the cellar stairs toward the battle that was taking place on the upper floor.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia was forced to admit that perhaps it hadn't been a very good idea. She had always wanted to act out one of those melodramatic scenes where the hero was pitted against the scheming villain.
Unfortunately, things weren't quite going according to script. It was the story of his life. His arms burned with fatigue and he was aching from the wound Bergheim had inflicted on him. He jerked his head to the side to shake off the blood that trickled from his forehead; it was certainly a risky move against a swordsman as skilled as his opponent.
Red drops fell to the surface of the desk, and Elysia was relieved to see that Helstaff hadn't been quick enough to take advantage of the gap. His breathing was fast and labored, like a bellows, and the pain interfered with his movements.
It seemed that Helstaff's longsword was everywhere. It was the weapons that made the difference. Elysia thought that if his swords had been of the same length, he would have shown that he was better than the noble before him. But it wasn't, and it was killing her.
♦ ♦ ♦
"Faster Faster!" Dhalthar ordered Bonebreaker as they ran to the bottom of the stairs. He was still fighting upstairs, but having decided to save the pawn from him, he didn't want to risk fate intervening.
An accident at that stage would be a most annoying thing. Bonebreaker gave a small moan and stopped so abruptly that Dhalthar slammed into the solid wall of the rat-troll's back and rebounded; the blow to the nose caused him considerable pain. He peeked out from behind his pet, and then saw why Bonebreaker had stopped.
Before them stood a large man, blocking the stairway. He was massive and his body was covered in imposing armor. In one hand he held a huge Sword, and it looked as if he, too, had started running up the stairs to join the fight. Like them, he seemed stunned at the discovery that there was someone else in the house.
"Damn mansions!" he grumbled himself. "You never know who you are going to find in them."
"Die-die, you stupid big male," Dhalthar said between squeaks. "Breaks bones! Bush! Bush!"
Bonebreaker lunged forward, paws outstretched before him. He barely towered above the large male like a demonic being, a living tribute to the hideous imaginings of the witch scientists of his clan. Dhalthar would not have been surprised if the large male, too, had frozen in fear at the mere sight of the monster, as had the others.
"Bite this," said the big male.
Brains flew everywhere as the big bull's greatsword cleaved Bonebreaker's head in two, and Dhalthar found himself faced with an angry big bull.
The musky scent of fear filled the air as he reached into his satchel for a weapon, then decided prudence was better than courage; so he turned and ran away. Dhalthar headed for the sewers, vowing to himself that he would make the big male pay for this, even if he had to dedicate his whole life to it.
"You lack street" pronounced the large male as Dhalthar walked away.
♦ ♦ ♦
Both men heard the noise coming from below. It was as if a huge tree had crashed to the ground. Elysia saw Helstaff's eyes stray to the window, and she knew that this would be her only chance. Forgetting caution, she charged straight at the highborn, all defenses down. She for a moment expected to feel Helstaff's sword plunge into her chest, but the split-second distraction proved to be enough. Too late, her opponent tried to change the direction of the sword, but Elysia was already too close to her and she fell behind the sweep of the blade. She sliced into his side as her own short sword rose through Helstaff's stomach, passed behind his ribs, and plunged into his heart. The Supreme Magistrate gurgled as he died. Pain clouded Elysia's mind, and she sagged.
♦ ♦ ♦
"Wake up, Elysia. This is not the time to be sleeping around."
Elysia felt water being thrown at her face. He coughed, spluttered, and shook his head.
"What…?"
"We'd better get out of here before the Knights Templar arrive."
"Leave me alone." All Elysia wanted was to lie there. "You go fight with them. You have always wanted to die heroically."
Frey shuffled uncomfortably.
"I can't, Elysia. I am a warrior. I'm supposed to die honorably. If they catch us now, people will think we've broken in."
"Y?"
"Theft brings dishonor."
"I can imagine worse crimes than stealing; like drowning a dying woman, for example."
"You are not dying, Elysia. That you have is barely a scratch."
"Well, if there's no other choice…" Elysia stood up, and looked at the filing cabinets that surrounded her. It occurred to her that the information contained therein would be worth a fortune if given to the right person. Even a small selection of what was in that room would be invaluable. The possibilities of blackmail and extortion were incalculable.
She looked at the dark hero and remembered what she had just said about the robbery.
Frey wouldn't agree to taking the documents. And even if she didn't object, she Elysia couldn't do it. It was somewhat corrupt; the life's work of a psychotic maniac like Fritz Helstaff. Those papers contained things that could ruin the lives of many people.
There were too many secrets in the Realm of Lothal already, and this represented too much power to allow it to fall into anyone's hands. She took the lamps and poured the oil on the filing cabinets; then she set them on fire.
As she ran down the stairs with the smell of burning paper filling her nostrils, Elysia felt strangely free. She realized that she was not, after all, going back to work in the sewers, and that brought her tremendous pleasure and happiness; for returning to said work meant taking unnecessary risks.