The sky blazed with the fiery glow of dusk, the last embers of sunlight igniting the clouds in streaks of red and orange.
A majestic 'Hippogriff' descended from the heavens, its wings folding mid-air as it made a graceful landing. Its hind hooves touched down first, followed by its front eagle claws, which gripped the earth with practiced ease. The powerful creature gave a low, satisfied squawk, shaking its feathers as the ponytail of hair trailing from its hindquarters swayed lazily in the evening breeze.
A young man in a black robe slid down from the saddle, gripping it for balance as his boots hit the ground with a thud. He adjusted the folds of his cloak, the glint of his 'magic staff', gnarled and wrapped in twisting crystals, catching the fading light. His dark eyes narrowed as he looked to the north, calculating the distance.
"Not far now," he muttered to himself, the shadow of Western Port on the horizon teasing him with its proximity.
After months of navigating the harsh, nomadic lands of the southern barbarians, he was eager to return. His task had been grueling, but finally, it was complete. All he wanted now was to present his hard-won accomplishments to his mentor 'Piriano' and, perhaps more importantly, reclaim the favor he had once enjoyed.
Still, the long journey had taken a toll on both him and the Hippogriff. A brief rest was necessary before the final stretch. He reached into the folds of his robe, retrieving a vial filled with silvery spell dust. With a flick of his wrist, he scattered some of the powder onto the ground. Then, gripping his staff, he chanted under his breath, the strange words slipping between his lips like a mantra.
The crystals embedded in the staff pulsed with energy as he swung it downward, tapping it lightly against the glowing dust. The air around him thrummed with power. The particles shimmered, spreading outward in a circle to form a 'warning perimeter' that hummed faintly before fading into the evening light.
Satisfied with the protective enchantment, the young sorcerer slumped to the ground beside the resting Hippogriff. He leaned his staff across his lap and closed his eyes, intending to 'meditate'. But the storm inside his mind made stillness impossible. His heart raced, not from fatigue, but from anticipation. The thought of seeing his mentor again stirred emotions he couldn't quite name; somewhere between eagerness and resentment.
And then, as it always did, 'the face of the blond boy' flashed through his mind.
He clenched his teeth. That slave. That *damned* boy.
The sorcerer curled his fingers tighter around the staff, bitterness welling in his chest. 'Corvis' a slave with nothing to his name but youth and charm, had stolen the attention he once commanded. He scowled, the memory of how Corvis slipped effortlessly into the role he had lost filling him with jealousy.
"That boy… just a lowly slave from a ruined country," he muttered under his breath. His grip on the staff tightened until his knuckles turned white.
It wasn't fair. His mentor; Piriano, wasn't truly interested in men, only in the allure of youthful beauty. The sorcerer himself had learned this the hard way. Once he had grown past a certain age, the subtle signs of manhood emerging on his face and frame, Piriano's interest had cooled.
Now Corvis stood in the position that was once his. The idea made his blood boil.
"One day," the sorcerer whispered venomously, "one day, you'll lose his favor. And when that happens…" His voice dropped into a hiss, "I'll kill you."
As the last light faded from the sky, night settled over the land, blanketing the port city of 'Kantadar' in darkness.
---
Inside the Atias embassy, tension hung thick in the air. Leon stood stiffly, his expression carefully neutral as he kept his eyes forward, determined not to let a smile betray him.
Across the room, 'Brandon' sat hunched on a plush sofa, tugging the folds of a cloak tightly around himself, as if to disappear into its fabric. His face was a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, his sharp features pinched in discomfort.
"You can laugh if you want," Brandon muttered, glaring at Leon from beneath the edge of his hood. "But you *swear* swear on your life, that you will never tell anyone about this."
Leon bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to maintain his composure. "I swear. Not a word of this will ever leave my lips."
Brandon shifted under the cloak, mortified. "You better keep it that way," he growled, pulling the fabric tighter. "If anyone finds out…" He didn't finish the sentence, he didn't need to. The implication was clear: if word of this ever got out, Brandon would rather draw his sword and end things himself than live with the humiliation.
It was only now that Brandon truly understood why Corvis always wore his robes so tightly wrapped around him. If anyone saw him like this; dressed in the 'clothes Piriano requested' death would feel like a mercy.
Leon, trying to suppress his amusement, gave Brandon a solemn nod. "This stays between us," he promised gravely. "This secret will be safer with me than my own life."
Brandon rolled his eyes, exhaling in frustration. "It better be." He glanced toward the door, anxiety flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure about this plan?"
Leon gave a reassuring nod. "It's the best shot we've got. Once Piriano's head is in position, you knock three times; one soft, two hard. Just as we practiced. But remember, stay low. If you stand up too soon, you could get caught in the crossfire."
Brandon groaned and buried his face in his hands for a moment, muttering to himself. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
Before Leon could respond, a sharp, impatient knock rattled the door from the other side.
"Are you ready?" came a voice from the hallway.
Leon gave Brandon one last, meaningful look. "This is it."
With a sigh that carried the weight of resignation, Brandon pushed himself up from the sofa. "Let's get it over with."
As Leon reached for the door, he glanced back at his friend. "Remember; once his head is steady in the marked spot, you knock. One soft, two hard."
Brandon nodded, pulling the hood of the cloak low over his face. "I got it. Just… don't miss, alright?"
Leon gave a grim smile. "I won't."
With that, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the wheels of their dangerous plan already in motion. There was no turning back now.
Brandon gave a solemn nod, his face a mask of determination as he absorbed the importance of the plan, the code that held both his life and honor in the balance. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. This had to go perfectly. There was no room for mistakes.
They both stood and pulled open the door to leave.
Standing on the other side, 'Corvis' waited, his slim frame draped in the same ridiculous outfit Piriano had demanded, an ensemble that made even Leon, accustomed to strange situations, shift uncomfortably.
In the dim corridor light, 'Corvis' looked eerily like a dancer from a distant land, with smooth, pale skin and delicate features. At first glance, he could almost be mistaken for a beautiful girl; until one noticed the subtle flatness beneath the fabric of the top.
Leon coughed awkwardly and looked away, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Why don't you cover up a bit?" he muttered, keeping his gaze carefully averted. "It would make things easier."
Corvis gave a dry, amused smile, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why should I be ashamed in front of 'Piriano'? Besides, this is probably the last time I'll have to wear this nonsense." His voice was steady, unbothered, as if the absurdity of the costume no longer had any power to humiliate him.
With a fluid motion, Corvis turned and started up the stairs without another word, his confidence unshaken.
Leon stood still for a moment, suppressing a sigh as he watched them ascend. This plan was as dangerous as it was humiliating, and he hated that his friends had to shoulder this burden. But there was no other way.
Brandon adjusted his cloak, gave Leon one last glance, and followed Corvis up the stairs.
Leon waited, counting the seconds in his head. He gave them a few minutes to make their way to Piriano's room; just enough time to avoid suspicion; before silently trailing behind. His boots moved soundlessly over the marble steps as he climbed to the second floor.
The upper corridor, even at night, was bathed in a warm glow. The 'Atias mages' had spared no expense, lining the hall with ornate chandeliers. The candles flickered with unnaturally bright flames, burning far more intensely than any Leon had ever seen in his homeland. The lavish opulence was a painful reminder of how little the mages valued the lives they destroyed.
Leon moved quietly, hugging the shadows until he reached a corner near 'Piriano's bedroom door'. He pressed his back to the wall, heart thudding in his chest as he strained to hear the faint sounds from beyond the door.
He heard a soft click, Corvis and Brandon slipping inside. The door shut behind them with an unsettling finality.
This was it. Leon's pulse quickened, and he crept closer to the door, bow in hand. He crouched low, drawing an arrow from his quiver and nocking it smoothly against the string. Every movement was practiced, precise. 'His hands knew what they had to do even if his heart wavered.'
He took a steadying breath and positioned himself at the door. He aligned his shot, calculating where Piriano's head would be based on the sorcerer's height. 'This next moment had to be perfect.' There would be no second chance.
"Ms. Lola," Leon whispered under his breath, invoking the name of the wizard whose guidance he carried in his heart. "Help me strike true."
From inside the room came the sound of 'Piriano's vile laughter', accompanied by low murmurs 'a twisted parody of conversation.' Leon's fingers twitched against the bowstring, every fiber of his being urging him to act. But he forced himself to wait. Timing was everything. 'Corvis and Brandon needed to lure the old sorcerer fully into position.'
The seconds dragged on, each one feeling longer than the last. The soft hum of tension buzzed in Leon's ears, making every noise seem louder; Piriano's voice, the shifting of fabric, and the subtle creak of the floorboards beyond the door.
'Patience,' he told himself. 'Trust your allies.'
Fortunately, Corvis had worked carefully to ensure no one would interfere. The other 'Atias mages' had been sent on assignments, traveling eastward with the Kantadar army, and those who remained in the embassy were scattered, busy with their own tasks. The guards stationed outside the building had strict orders not to enter without explicit permission.
'This was their one moment.' No one would disturb them.
Leon's fingers tightened around the bow, his muscles coiled like a spring. A fleeting sense of satisfaction flickered through him, the embassy, these mages, all of them complicit in the invasion of his homeland, 'Rolandar'. Tonight, he would take the first step toward vengeance, honoring the spirit of the body he now occupied.
Then it came. 'The signal.'
'Bang! Bang! Bang!'
'One light knock. Two heavy.'
The moment had arrived.
Leon inhaled sharply, feeling the familiar rush of magic surge through his veins. His heartbeat synchronized with the flow of energy, the power gathering at his fingertips until it became almost unbearable. 'This was the same magic he had used before, only now, it felt even stronger, more precise, as if the very act of vengeance fueled its intensity.'
His bow glowed as the magic coiled into the shape of a brilliant 'arrow of light', spinning in place as it materialized between his fingers.
"Dragon, my enemyをقらھ——!" he thought, the incantation burning through his mind with ritualistic clarity, filling him with both purpose and resolve.
He drew the bowstring back, exhaling slowly to steady his aim.
'There could be no hesitation.'
'Boom!'
The arrow of light shot forth, cutting through the air with a deafening crack. A pulse of energy exploded outward, extinguishing the flames in the corridor as the air itself seemed to shatter beneath the force of the shot.
The blazing arrow spiraled through the air, piercing through the thick wooden door of Piriano's bedroom as if it were paper. 'The door splintered on impact, and the light burned a path through the darkness inside.'
Leon stood frozen for a heartbeat, his breath catching in his throat as he watched the trail of light vanish into the room beyond. 'The air hummed with tension, the eerie silence that follows a storm.'
And then…
A scream. Not of pain, but of 'pure shock'.
Leon didn't wait to hear more. 'He spun on his heel, already preparing for the next step.' Whatever happened next, there was no turning back now.
The spiraling arrow of light tore through the air with a deafening shriek, shattering the wooden door into splinters as it carved through everything in its path. In a heartbeat, Leon saw through the collapsing door, just a fleeting glimpse of 'Piriano's face', twisted in astonishment. His eyes widened in disbelief, his expression frozen in that split second before death claimed him.
The faint shimmer of a defensive light shield flickered across the wizard's body, but it was too slow 'far too slow'. The arrow of light kissed his skin with a sound like 'glass cracking under immense pressure', and then...
'Flesh and bone detonated.'
The rotating force burrowed into Piriano's skull, ripping through muscle and cartilage with a sickening crunch. His head jerked upward, as though yanked by some unseen hand. The arrow's magic spiraled deeper, crushing his bones, tearing his face apart, and finally exploding his 'skull' in a gruesome eruption. Blood sprayed like a fountain, fragments of shattered bone and brain matter scattering across the room.
The remaining force of the arrow did not stop at Piriano's ruined head. It roared forward, drilling a hole clean through the thick stone wall at the far end of the room. The bright trail of magic streaked into the courtyard beyond, where it dissipated into the cool night air, carried away by the wind in a swirl of glowing embers.
Blood splattered across the room, staining the walls and the two men closest to the wizard.
Corvis stood motionless, his 'blond hair streaked with gore', bits of brain and flesh clinging to the strands. His wide blue eyes locked onto the sight of 'Piriano's lifeless body', now crumpled on the floor with half of its head missing. He blinked, once, as if struggling to register the reality of what had just happened. The man who had imprisoned him for years, the sorcerer who had tormented him and stolen so much; 'gone', just like that.
The silence in the room felt heavy, almost surreal. Corvis slowly turned toward the wall, inspecting the damage Leon's arrow had left behind. The jagged hole punched through the stone was 'immense', and the remnants of the light trail still shimmered faintly, glowing in the cool night breeze.
His lips parted slightly in surprise. "I didn't expect that," he whispered to himself. "Leon said it was powerful, but this?" He shook his head, almost in disbelief.
Piriano's 'magic wand', a gleaming metal staff, still lay clutched in the corpse's hand, half-raised as if the wizard had tried to cast a spell in his final moments. But whatever magic Piriano intended to summon had died with him, the wand now a 'silent, useless relic' in his lifeless grasp.
Outside the door, Leon felt the familiar wave of 'exhaustion' wash over him like a tidal wave. His knees buckled, and the world seemed to tilt as darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He tried to fight it, but the strength drained from his limbs faster than he could stop it.
The bow slipped from his hand, and Leon crumpled to the floor, catching himself on his hands just before his face hit the cold stone.
"Leon!"
The urgent sound of his friends' voices drifted through the haze of fatigue, but they seemed far away, like echoes bouncing down a long corridor. Leon tried to respond, to tell them he was fine, but his body refused to cooperate. His limbs felt like lead, and his head throbbed with the effort of simply staying conscious. 'It was just like the first time he had used the arrow, this overwhelming weakness, this crushing emptiness.'
"Lola… what did you do to me?" Leon thought groggily, fighting to stay awake. Had the magic somehow increased in power without his control? 'Miss Lola's blessing might have pushed him past his limit again, leaving him dangerously close to blacking out.'
'Not now.' Not when they needed him, he didn't know if the spell hit the target.
Just as the world began to fade completely, a strange warmth spread from his wrist, like a 'gentle surge of energy flowing through his veins'. It started small, barely a flicker, but grew stronger, spreading to his chest, his arms, his legs. His senses sharpened as if someone had thrown open the shutters of his mind, flooding him with light.
Leon's eyes snapped open, his blurred vision sharpening in an instant. His head jerked up, and he found himself staring into 'Corvis's blood-smeared face', the young man crouched in front of him, gripping Leon's wrist with one hand.
Corvis's other hand rested lightly against Leon's forehead, where a 'faint demonic sigil' one that Leon had never noticed before, glimmered just beneath the skin, as if awakening from a long slumber.
The warmth continued to flow from 'Corvis's touch', filling Leon with newfound strength, banishing the exhaustion that had threatened to overwhelm him just moments ago.
Leon blinked, stunned. "What... what are you doing?" he muttered, feeling the fatigue melt away.
Corvis gave him a crooked smile, his blood-streaked face making the expression look unsettling, almost eerie. "Just a little experiment," he said with a hint of amusement. "Looks like you can handle 'chaos magic' after all."
Leon stared at him, bewildered. "Chaos magic...?" His voice was hoarse, but the strength in his limbs returned with startling speed.
Corvis nodded, the red magic sigil on his neck fading until it was almost invisible. "I wasn't sure it would work, but it seems you're compatible. How do you feel? Think you can stand?"
Leon flexed his fingers experimentally, then grabbed Corvis's wrist and used it to pull himself to his feet. The movement was smooth and effortless, as if the weakness had never existed in the first place. 'Not only was the exhaustion gone, he felt stronger than ever, lighter and sharper, as if every muscle in his body had been finely tuned.'
"Good gods," Leon muttered, shaking out his arms. "You can recharge people's energy? That's... that's insane." He gave Corvis an incredulous look. "You could've warned me you were packing that kind of magic."
Corvis shrugged, still wearing that unsettling, blood-streaked smile. "Where's the fun in that?"
Leon chuckled, testing his balance. 'Honestly, I feel so good I might ask Lola to let me fire off another shot right now.' He rolled his shoulders and grinned thinking to himself, the adrenaline from the fight still buzzing through his veins.
Corvis laughed softly, wiping some of the blood from his face. "Glad to see you back on your feet, hero."
The sound of distant footsteps echoed faintly through the embassy halls, and both men's expressions sobered.
"Come on," Corvis said, nodding toward the open door. "We've still got to get out of here."
Leon gave one last glance at the lifeless body of 'Piriano', his headless form slumped in a pool of blood, and then turned away without a second thought. 'The first step of their mission was complete, but the night was far from over.'
With a final exchange of determined looks, Leon and Corvis slipped into the corridor, ready for whatever came next.
Corvis gave a small, knowing smile, brushing his fingers over the dissipating remnants of the one-eyed magic pattern on his forehead. "After all," he said quietly, "I am a magic slave cultivated by Piriano for years. My most basic purpose was to replenish his magic in emergencies. It's the least I can do." He gave Leon a grateful nod. "But not all casters can bear power drawn from the spirit world. Lucky for you, you seem to handle it just fine."
Brandon, relieved to see Leon standing strong again, quickly wiped the blood off his face with his discarded cloak. "Enough talk; we need to move," he said urgently, wrapping the cloak around himself to cover the humiliating attire he still wore.
"I have something else to finish," Leon said, voice low. "Take Elena and the others to the city wall. I'll meet you there."
Brandon paused, eyeing Leon, but nodded. "All right. Don't take too long." Pulling his hood low over his face, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the staircase, heading to gather 'Elena and the freed slaves' from their hiding spot below.
The room fell quiet. Corvis tilted his head slightly, then knelt by a nearby chair and gave it a quick flick of his wrist. A shimmer of magic danced over his fingertips as the legs of the chair trembled and one snapped off cleanly. 'The jagged end of the chair leg floated in the air, suspended by Corvis's will.'
With cold precision, Corvis turned toward Piriano's lifeless body.
Leon watched in silence, confused but curious. Corvis didn't hesitate. He manipulated the wooden stake, hovering it just above the corpse's chest, and with a sharp gesture, he drove it downward. 'The jagged wood pierced the dead sorcerer's ribcage with a sickening crunch.'
Corvis twisted the stake with deliberate force, grinding it deeper into Piriano's heart. Then, with a second thrust, he shredded the other vital organs; the lungs, the liver, and anything else that might be 'magically useful'.
Satisfied, Corvis let the shattered stake clatter to the ground and released his magical grip.
Leon stared, still processing what he'd just witnessed. "Was that… really necessary?"
Corvis glanced up, brushing his blood-speckled blond hair out of his eyes. "You have no idea," he said flatly. "Even dead, Piriano's spirit could still be dangerous. Some sorcerers tether their magic to their organs, like anchors. If I leave even a trace intact, he could come back or worse, summon something in his place." He gave the mutilated corpse one last look, his expression cold. "The safest option is to burn him. But fire would attract the guards." He exhaled, standing up. "This will have to do."
Leon nodded slowly, casting a glance toward 'Piriano's ornate staff', still gripped loosely in the wizard's cold fingers. The staff gleamed with intricate carvings 'a pair of outstretched wings cradling a deep crimson crystal at its head'. It radiated power, promising treasure and magic beyond reckoning.
Leon's hand inched toward it. "That staff looks valuable..."
Before his fingers could touch the smooth wood, 'Corvis's hand shot out' and grabbed his wrist. "Don't," he warned, his voice sharp and uncharacteristically serious. "That's 'his staff'. Who knows what kind of traps are bound to it? Touch it, and it could curse you or worse."
Leon hesitated, a pang of disappointment gnawing at him, but he withdrew his hand reluctantly. "Figures," he muttered under his breath. "I thought we'd at least walk out of here with something useful."
Corvis gave him a sly smile, already heading for the door. "Don't worry. There's something better waiting for us."
Intrigued, Leon followed the boy out of the bedroom. Corvis moved quickly through the dark corridor, leading him to a nearby door just a few paces from Piriano's chambers. They stopped in front of it, and Corvis pressed his hand against the wooden surface, whispering a soft incantation. 'A faint shimmer of light ran along the edges of the door, flickering briefly before fading away.'
"There. The lock's been lifted," Corvis said with satisfaction, and pushed the door open.
The two stepped inside, and Leon's eyes widened at the sight before him.
The room was packed wall to wall with 'strange artifacts and magical instruments'. Shelves overflowed with 'mysterious bottles, glowing vials, and delicate tools', while the walls were lined with 'scrolls, ancient books, and enchanted decorations'. The space had the chaotic elegance of a wizard's workshop; a treasure trove of magic knowledge and power.
Corvis strode to a small table and grabbed a towel, casually wiping the dried blood from his face and hair. Then, without looking up, he picked up something from the cluttered desk and 'tossed it to Leon'.
"Here," Corvis said with a smirk. "This one's yours."
Leon caught the object midair, frowning as he turned it over in his hands. It was 'a large, heavy egg', about the size of an ostrich egg, with intricate 'golden patterns spiraling across its surface'. The designs shimmered faintly, as though the metal were inlaid directly into the shell.
Leon raised an eyebrow. "An egg? What am I supposed to do with this?"
"That," Corvis said, grinning as he rummaged through more of Piriano's treasures, "is a 'griffin egg'. Probably the most valuable thing in this entire place."
Leon blinked, weighing the egg in his hand. "A griffin egg?" He gave a low whistle, suddenly realizing the 'incredible rarity' of the object. "That's… a hell of a prize."
Corvis shrugged, casually tossing aside a stack of old scrolls. "You can't touch the staff, but this? Consider it a consolation prize. Just don't let it hatch unless you know how to handle a griffin."
"Come on," Corvis urged, motioning toward the door. "We don't have time to gawk. We need to meet Brandon and the others before the guards catch on."
"Griffin eggs?" Leon echoed, turning the heavy egg in his hands, still trying to wrap his mind around its significance.
Corvis nodded, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "Yeah. About 'two months ago', Pilieno and a few other Atias mages hunted down a nest of griffins. That egg was their prize, gifted to Pilieno. I've been keeping it safe since then; no one's tampered with it."
Leon trailed after Corvis as they hurried out of the workshop and down the stairs into the courtyard, still holding the egg with a growing sense of unease. The events from two months ago swirled in his mind.
'Two months ago. A griffin hunt. Mage Atias.'
The pieces slotted together in Leon's head with a jolt of realization. 'Could this egg belong to the Death Claw's nest?' The mighty griffin whose kin had been hunted down by these very mages? If so... what he held in his hands wasn't just valuable, it was the child with some relations to Death Claw. The thought unsettled him. If the griffin's kin ever learned of this theft...
But there was no time to dwell on it. They sprinted through the courtyard, aiming for the point where the 'warning magic' on the wall had been disabled.
Waiting for them at the base of the wall were 'Brandon and Elena'. The wind tugged at Elena's hair as she anxiously scanned the shadows beyond. Her face lit up with momentary relief when she saw Corvis, but it quickly shifted into worry.
"Corvis!" she called out, hurrying toward him. "I was only gone from the room for a moment, but when I came back, 'Martha and the others' were gone! Have you seen them? Do you know where they went?"
Corvis frowned, frustration flickering across his face. "They're not in the room?" His tone was sharp. "I told them to 'stay put' and wait for tonight!"
Brandon shook his head grimly. "We looked everywhere; no sign of them. They've disappeared."
Corvis cursed under his breath, rubbing his temple. 'The plan had relied on the slaves staying hidden until the right moment.' If they'd wandered off, there was no time to search for them now. Every second wasted brought them closer to discovery.
Elena's expression twisted with worry, but she clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay composed. She knew what was at stake, 'this was their one chance to escape', and they couldn't afford to blow it.
"It's too late to search now," Corvis said with a grim nod. "We move forward. If we survive tonight, we can come back for them."
Elena swallowed hard but gave a quick nod. "Let's go, then."
With swift, precise movements, Corvis summoned a rope with a flick of his wrist. The enchanted rope coiled upward, wrapping itself around the 'battlements atop the wall', securing itself tightly.
"Go first," Corvis ordered, steadying the rope. "Climb carefully."
Brandon tested the rope, then nodded and gestured to Elena. "I'll follow right behind you."
One by one, they scaled the wall. Even in the darkness, 'Corvis was prepared'. He drew his 'rune sword' from its sheath, the blade glowing with a soft, radiant light that bathed the area in a gentle, blue-tinged glow. It wasn't bright enough to attract attention from the guards but provided just enough light to guide them.
Corvis leaned out from the wall, holding the sword aloft. 'The light illuminated the narrow plank road below', barely visible against the jagged rocks at the cliff's edge. It was their secret escape route.
"Careful now," Corvis whispered. "One slip, and you fall straight into the sea."
They descended slowly, hands gripping the rope as they made their way down the wall. When their feet touched the narrow 'plank road', they pressed close to the cliffside, moving in a tight formation along the uneven path, holding each other steady when the wind threatened to pull them off balance.
In silence, the four figures vanished into the shadows, swallowed by the night.
---
Not long after they disappeared down the winding cliffside, 'a small boat' emerged from a 'hidden sea cave', drifting lazily into the open waters. The boat bobbed on the waves as it navigated the shallows beyond the reefs, its sails furled tightly to avoid drawing attention.
At the bow of the boat lay 'Goliad, the bard', stretched out languidly with a feathered hat draped over his face. He stirred, tipping his hat back with a single finger to peer into the darkness. 'His gaze cut through the night with uncanny precision', as if he could see far beyond the horizon, tracking movements no ordinary eye could catch.
A sly grin curled his lips. "Hah... I always seem to end up taking the blame for others. But this time, someone else gets to take the heat for me." He chuckled softly. "How delightful~."
At the stern, 'Larian', the young knight, glanced up from the oars, confused by the bard's cryptic words. He adjusted the long sword at his side, his brow furrowing as he cast a glance toward the 'cabin' of the small boat. Inside, 'several young women' huddled together, their faces a mix of confusion and fear.
Larian's heart gave a sudden jolt as his gaze landed on one familiar face. "Margarina," he breathed, recognizing his beloved among the girls. Relief and joy washed over him, but his confusion deepened as he looked at the other women.
"Where... where did you get them?" Larian asked, shooting a bewildered look at Goliad. "I only recognize 'Margarina'. Who are the others?"
Goliad gave a mischievous shrug, grinning like a man with a secret he had no intention of sharing. "Ah, my dear knight, isn't rescuing damsels the most noble act for a man like you?" he teased, his tone light and carefree. "And just look at you, surrounded by so many beautiful ladies. Surely, that's a dream come true for a knight of your caliber?"
Larian felt his cheeks flush. He cast a nervous glance at Margarina, whose narrowed eyes and sharp glare promised 'trouble' if he so much as smiled at another woman. Swallowing hard, he shook his head and forced an awkward laugh.
"Ah, no, no, not at all," Larian stammered, holding up his hands in defense. "Just... just here for 'Margarina', I swear!"
Goliad chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the knight's discomfort. "Oh, relax, Sir Larian. Loyalty suits you. But—" he winked, "—a little charm never hurt anyone."
Larian shifted nervously, his grip tightening on the oars. He didn't dare respond. Not with Margarina watching him like a hawk.
With a satisfied sigh, 'Goliad lay back down', pulling his hat over his face once more. The boat drifted steadily through the water, carrying its strange passengers toward the distant shore 'into freedom, and perhaps into more trouble.'
But for now, the Bard was content. 'Tonight, others had taken the blame and done the heavy lifting.' And that, to him, was a victory worth savoring.