The worst possible scenario Ryan had thought vastly unlikely had somehow happened, and now he stood like a deer caught in headlights, without a plan.
"When word came you escaped from the dungeon, I had thought you'd have been a long distance from here by now. But to come to us all by yourself... Are you stupid or unlucky?" The armored man had an amused gleam in his eyes as he spoke.
"I like to think I'm ambitious," Ryan's voice laced with confidence, betraying no panic.
"Well, that ambition has brought you before me... to receive merciless punishment...for murdering the guard" The armored man drew his sword.
"That sounds pleasant, it really does," Ryan's dry humor cutting through the tension. "But I can't stick around too long unfortunately, so we'd have to save your punishment for ano-"
Ryan's words choked in his throat as he saw the blade almost materialize before him, swinging straight at his face.
[Soundless step]
The armored man's blade met only air, the clatter of broken bottles echoed through the hallway as the crate fell to the floor, Ryan, who had held it, disappeared with a breathless silence.
The armored man's head swiveled as he searched around for Ryan, but he was nowhere to be found. His gaze shifted down to the crate, a single bottle of whiskey missing from the rest.
"Inform the guards, he must be found," the armored man instructed the servant.
Perched on the roof of the manor, Ryan's chest heaved as he placed his finger to his face. Looking at it, they were stained crimson, a tiny cut on his cheek.
"That fucker is fast," Ryan muttered.
**************
A middle-aged man poured wine into a glass, his hair a dark sheen and his eyes a mysterious grey. He tilted the bottle back up as he successfully filled his cup halfway, placing the bottle on the table as he walked back to the place he sat.
His footsteps, organized, almost practiced, as he strode across the room. He placed the glass on the wooden desk before him before settling into his seat, a slight creak escaping from the chair as his weight pressed upon it.
He gripped the glass, putting it to his mouth as he took a sip of the wine. His face flashed a slight disappointment before he placed the glass back atop his desk.
"Where's my damn whiskey?" He sneered. Sighing, he looked up at the woman before him.
Cecil, her hair a stainless white, and her eyes a diamond blue.
"You seem quite eager to spill whatever bad news you have, so go ahead," the province leader said as he reluctantly grabbed the glass of wine again.
"Four months ago, the nomadic khans were attacked by the western plague."
"Vrought?" The leader pulled the glass away from his mouth as he looked at Cecil in concern.
"Yes."
"And how'd it end?"
"The khan leader and the council were able to force him to retreat, however not without both sides suffering great injuries. If Vrought is to recover first and attack again..." Cecil's voice trailed off.
"The Khans won't survive it," the leader completed. "And what is the legion's take on this?" He asked.
"Still no word. They still claim to seek Vrought to be punished as a deserter, but they've taken no further action than that."
The province leader sighed as he reclined back into his chair. "So the Khans can't really help us, if they are too busy trying to help themselves?"
"Precisely," Cecil sighed.
"Any other bad news?" The leader asked.
"Well, yesterday in the dead of night, the foot soldiers stationed here by the legion were all brutally killed."
"How's that bad news? At least I didn't have to do it myself. Any idea on who did it?" The province leader asked, turning his gaze to the door, pushed open, the armored man entering.
"No, not yet."
"I might know the person," the armored man proclaimed as he walked towards them.
"Is that so? Grant, who are you thinking?"
"The man that escaped the dungeon," Grant replied confidently.
"I doubt... this wasn't a random act of murder. They were killed with brutality I've never witnessed before. That was an act of either pure evil or unfathomable hatred," Cecil's face contorted in disgust just remembering the scene.
"Or perhaps, a simple exchange?" Grant proposed his theory.
"What does that mean?"
"I saw the man here today, in front of that very door," Grant gestured towards the door he walked in from.
"What?" Cecil and the province leader said in unison.
"He had come with old man Hitoshi as his worker, which we all know, hates those legion bastards more than anyone, for good reason," Grant explained.
"So you're saying the old man paid him to do it?" Cecil asked.
"Perhaps, I know it's connected in some way."
"If he was here, where is he now?" The province leader asked.
"I tried to detain him, then he disappeared... That person isn't an average man"
"How interesting..." The leader stroked his chin.
****************
With a barely audible groan, the door to the leader's office swung open, his fatigued steps on the tiled floor a subtle thud.
It was dark out, the moonlight offering the only illumination into his office, as he let out a sigh of frustration.
"Bad day?" Ryan's words cut through the darkness, the leader's gaze shooting towards the sound in surprised panic. "I've had quite the number of those recently." Ryan continued
"Who?..." The leader muttered.
A click echoed through the room as Ryan dropped the glass on the desk. "This is good whiskey. I understand why you like it."
"You're the one that escaped the dungeon."
"Sit down, leader. We have much to discuss." The moon's silver light fell on Ryan as he walked out of the darkness.