The voice came cold and detached, slicing through the night like a blade hidden in darkness.
Alice and Green froze where they stood, their breaths caught, hearts pounding in their chests. They turned slowly, almost unwillingly, to face the source of that chilling tone.
There, under the thin, silver light of the moon, a figure emerged. He was tall and imposing, a man hardened by years of battle. Leather armor clung to his muscular frame, glinting faintly as he took another slow step toward them. His expression was one of icy contempt, his gaze sharp as a dagger.
"Uncle Mousse!" Alice gasped, her voice quivering, her face a mixture of shock and dread.
Why was he here? This man, her uncle by name but a looming figure of authority, was Baron Senda's most trusted knight, a man infamous among the manor's apprentices for his brutal skill. Mousse was among the elite of Baron Senda's retainers, a man both feared and respected, known for his ruthless loyalty. The realization that he'd come here, that he'd discovered her secret, sent a wave of despair crashing over her.
"Miss Alice," Mousse's voice was steady, yet brimming with disdain, "you have disappointed us greatly."
He took a step closer, his face contorted in something between disappointment and wrath. "I knew there was trouble brewing, some plot by outsiders. But I didn't think you would be at the heart of it."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "If Baron Senda knew what you've done, he would be… devastated."
Alice swallowed hard, her gaze falling for a moment, but she lifted her chin with newfound resolve. "I'm sorry, Uncle Mousse," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "But I have reasons for leaving. This manor… it is not my fate."
Mousse's lip curled in derision. "Your reasons? Is this about him?" He jabbed a finger toward Green, standing by her side, eyes wide with fear and determination alike. "This wandering bard? Just another nameless drifter. What makes you think he's worth throwing your life away for?"
"Is it that foolish notion of love?" he sneered.
Alice's expression hardened, her gaze fierce as she met Mousse's eyes. "You wouldn't understand," she replied. "Love and freedom are priceless. Without them, even the wealth of a kingdom is empty. A gilded cage is still a cage, Uncle. But with love and freedom, even a simple life holds meaning."
Mousse scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Love and freedom?" He spat out the words as though they left a foul taste in his mouth. "You think these noble ideas will feed you? Protect you? In this world, wealth and power are what matter, girl. The dreams of commoners are nothing but dust. Happiness without wealth and status? It's a delusion!"
His face twisted with rage, and he shifted his glare to Green. "And you," he hissed, "are the cause of this foolish rebellion."
Mousse took a step toward Green, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "I should string you up from the manor's tower, let the sun beat down on you while the crows pick at your flesh. Let you suffer for this insolence, for the poison you've put in her mind."
Green's face drained of color, his voice caught in his throat. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but the words were lost as Mousse reached for the sword at his side, the blade glinting in the moonlight as he drew it with a slow, menacing precision.
Alice's hand tightened around Green's, her mind racing. "Run!" she whispered, voice taut with desperation. They turned and bolted, the adrenaline coursing through them, driving their feet as they fled into the darkness.
But Mousse, with the strength and speed of a trained knight, moved like a predator stalking its prey. In a few strides, he was upon them, his footfalls echoing across the stone pathway as he closed the distance with terrifying ease.
They could feel him closing in, hear the rasp of his breathing, the whisper of his blade slicing through the air, and they knew that escape was slipping away, that freedom was fading like the moonlight itself.
The long sword arced through the air, poised to strike, its blade shimmering ominously in the moonlight.
Just as the weapon descended, an instinctive sense of danger surged in Mousse's chest. Time slowed as he instinctively shifted to the side, narrowly evading the lethal swing that would have ended him.
The sword thudded into the ground where he had stood moments before, sending a shockwave of sound that echoed ominously through the night.
"What?" came a surprised murmur from the attacker, their voice low and menacing.
Emerging from the shadows, the assailant's presence radiated an overwhelming pressure, filling the air with palpable tension. With a swift, calculated movement, they launched another strike. Mousse's sword met the incoming blow with a sharp clang that reverberated like thunder, the impact nearly knocking his weapon from his grasp.
"Such incredible strength!" Mousse thought, adrenaline coursing through him. He had faced many opponents under Baron Senda's command, and he prided himself on his prowess. Yet this attack, this force, was beyond anything he had anticipated.
"Could it be Reggie?" he pondered frantically. Reggie was known as one of the few who could match Mousse's strength in the manor. But why would he attack? The questions spun wildly in his mind, confusion mingling with dread.
Before he could find an answer, the figure in front of him surged forward, their aura dark and oppressive. With a flick of their wrist, they seized Mousse's sword, the clash of metal ringing sharply in the night.
As the distance between them shrank to nothing, Mousse finally caught a glimpse of his adversary. "It's you!" he gasped, recognition dawning, horror flooding his expression. Harry, a name that sent shivers down his spine. The implications of facing him filled Mousse with dread; the man was a legend, known for his ruthless efficiency and unmatched strength.
"What are you doing here?" Mousse managed to stammer, bewildered and fearful. "Why would you come for me?"
But Harry offered no answer, his focus unwavering. With a swift, brutal motion, he thrust his sword forward, the blade piercing through Mousse's chest with a sickening squelch.
Blood erupted in a crimson spray, splattering the ground and staining the air. Mousse's eyes widened in shock, the light fading from them as he felt his life ebb away.
In mere moments, he crumpled to the ground, a heavy thud marking his lifeless fall, his body now a cold reminder of what had just transpired.
Alice and her companion, frozen in horror, finally broke from their shock.
"Uncle Mousse!" Alice cried, disbelief etched across her face. The reality of his defeat sank in slowly, a heavy weight crushing her spirit. She had grown up watching him train, had seen his strength firsthand. How could he fall so easily, so brutally?
Her mind raced, grappling with the loss and the sudden, shocking violence that had shattered her world in an instant. The night, once a backdrop for whispered dreams of escape, now felt like a graveyard of hopes, echoing with the remnants of what once was.
In Alice's mind, Mousse had always been a paragon of strength, nearly invincible in her eyes. The thought that he could be so easily defeated left her reeling, disbelief washing over her like a cold tide. The sight of his lifeless body was too surreal, too stark against the memories of the formidable knight she had admired for so long.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Harry's voice sliced through her shock, calm and measured as he stepped closer. He pulled his sword from Mousse's chest with a deliberate slowness, the blade glistening ominously in the dim light. "You know, if you had kept your part of the bargain, he wouldn't have had to die."
Alice felt a wave of anger rise within her. Mousse had been lured here by Harry's deceit. He had never trusted anyone, and Harry's twisted machinations had cost him his life.
"How could you do this?" she spat, fury lacing her words. "You manipulated us! Mousse was here to protect me!"
Harry's expression was inscrutable. "What a pity. Such a noble knight wasted for your sake." He tilted his head slightly, feigning sympathy. "Tell me, Miss Alice, don't you feel even a flicker of guilt?"
"Guilt?" she echoed, her voice rising. "Is this your idea of justice? Killing a noble is treasonous! Do you have any idea what the kingdom will do to you?"
Harry shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm afraid I don't care. All I know is that your future looks rather grim, Miss Alice." He raised his sword slowly, the blade gleaming as he prepared to strike.
"Stop! Put your sword down!" came a shaky voice from behind.
Alice turned to see Green, clutching a package tightly in his arms. With a swift motion, he revealed a metal booklet, his other hand gripping a dagger with a fierce determination. "You want this? Let us go, and it's yours!"
"Don't move," he warned, his voice trembling with urgency. "I'll destroy it!"
Harry's eyes widened with interest. "What do you have there?" His gaze fixed on the metal booklet, recognition dawning. "Did they actually manage to get that?"
Green's heart raced; he had caught Harry's attention. "Yes! It's the original secret Aura Technique from Baron Senda's lineage!"
For a moment, Harry was speechless, his surprise evident. He hadn't expected Alice to possess such a valuable artifact, let alone manage to bring it out.
"Step back!" Green urged, gaining confidence. "Keep your distance and throw your sword to me!"
He raised his voice, desperation fueling his words. "Give me the sword now, or I'll destroy this!"
But Harry merely shook his head, a strange calm washing over him. He took a step forward, unwavering. There was no hint of compliance in his demeanor; he wasn't backing down.
Alice felt the tension thickening in the air, knowing that every heartbeat could be the difference between life and death. "Green, be careful!" she shouted, but her voice was drowned in the whirlwind of uncertainty surrounding them.
As Harry advanced, she realized they were standing at the precipice of a fate none of them could foresee, the stakes higher than ever before.