Chapter 10: Assassination Plot 2
POV: The Assassins
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The gardens were silent except for the faint crunch of frost beneath their boots. Ira moved first, her every step measured as her keen eyes scanned the area. The young prince was close; she could feel the faint hum of his mana even through the still morning air. It was like a beacon, bright and unguarded, and it called to her like prey to a predator.
Behind her, Fergal followed, his heavy axe resting across his shoulder. He wasn't built for stealth, but Ira trusted his brute strength to end the fight if it came to that.
"Keep your focus," she whispered, glancing back at him.
"I've got it," Fergal grunted. "But we shouldn't be sneaking around for a kid. Let me handle this quickly."
"This 'kid' isn't ordinary," Ira snapped, her voice low. "You saw the reports. We do this clean, no mistakes."
Fergal rolled his eyes but nodded. Ira ignored his impatience, her attention fixed ahead. She caught a glimpse of movement—a small figure wandering near the edge of the clearing.
"There he is," she murmured, a cold smile curving her lips. "Remember, alive if possible. If not, no loose ends."
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Alaric stood with his back to them, unaware of the danger creeping closer. Ira's hand tightened on the hilt of her blade as she signaled to Fergal to circle around. They moved like shadows, silent and deliberate, closing the trap.
Just as they were within striking distance, Alaric froze. His head tilted slightly, as though he could feel their presence
Ira cursed under her breath. He's sharper than I expected.
"Who's there?" the boy called, his voice steady despite his age.
Ira steped out of the shadows, her blade gleaming in the pale sunlight. "Well, well," she said, her voice laced with mockery. "The little prince likes to wander alone, doesn't he?"
Alaric spun to face her, a dagger already in his hand. Ira raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. "Look at that. You're armed. Brave, too."
"You shouldn't be here," Alaric said, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"Oh, I disagree," Ira replied, circling him slowly. "This is exactly where I'm supposed to be."
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Fergal stepped out from the other side, his massive form blocking Alaric's escape route. He grinned, his axe glinting in the light. "End of the line, kid."
Alaric's gaze flicked between them, his grip on the dagger tightening. "Who sent you?"
"Does it matter?" Ira said, lunging forward.
Alaric reacted quickly, dodging her strike and countering with a slash aimed at her arm. Ira deflected it with ease, her movements fluid and precise. "You've got fight in you," she said, smirking. "But it won't be enough."
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Fergal charged, swinging his axe in a brutal arc. Alaric ducked just in time, the blade whistling past his head and slamming into the frost-covered ground. The boy used the opening to slash at Fergal's leg, drawing blood.
Fergal roared in pain, his eyes blazing with fury. "You little—!"
Ira moved in tandem with him, her blade slicing toward Alaric's side. The boy twisted away, his movements clumsy but effective. Despite his lack of training, he was quick, his instincts sharp.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," Ira said, her smirk fading into a scowl. "But it won't matter. You're outnumbered."
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Alaric's breath came in short gasps as he backed toward the tree line. His mind raced, searching for a way out. He couldn't overpower them, and running seemed impossible with Fergal blocking his path.
The assassins closed in, their weapons gleaming. Ira struck first, her blade aimed for his shoulder. Alaric barely managed to deflect it, the force of the blow numbing his arm.
"Not bad," Ira said, circling him. "But this is where it ends."
Fergal moved next, his axe swinging low. Alaric jumped back, but his foot caught on a root, and he stumbled. He hit the ground hard, the dagger slipping from his grasp.
---
"Got you now," Fergal growled, raising his axe.
But before he could strike, a surge of energy burst from Alaric. A golden light erupted from the boy's body, blinding and overwhelming. Ira staggered back, shielding her eyes, while Fergal let out a startled shout.
"What the—?" Ira hissed, blinking against the glare.
The light pulsed outward, knocking Fergal off his feet and sending his axe flying. Ira gritted her teeth, fighting to stay upright as the energy pressed against her like a physical force.
When the light subsided, Alaric was back on his feet, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. He held his hand out, and the dagger flew back to him as if summoned.
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"You should leave," Alaric said, his voice steady and calm despite the tension in the air.
Ira laughed bitterly, though her confidence wavered. "You think we're scared of a little light show?"
"Maybe you should be," Alaric replied.
Fergal lunged at him with a roar, his fists swinging in a desperate attempt to overpower the boy. But Alaric was faster. He ducked under the blow and drove his dagger upward, the blade sinking into Fergal's side.
Fergal's eyes widened in shock as he staggered back, blood seeping through his cloak. He collapsed to the ground, his massive frame shuddering before going still.
---
Ira stared at her fallen companion, her mind racing. This wasn't supposed to happen.
She turned back to Alaric, her grip tightening on her blade. "You'll pay for that," she snarled, lunging at him with everything she had.
But Alaric was ready. He sidesteped her attack and struck out with his dagger, catching her wrist and forcing her to drop her weapon.
Before she could recover, Alaric pressed the blade to her throat. "It's over," he said, his voice cold.
Ira froze, her chest heaving as she stared into his glowing crimson eyes. For the first time, she felt a flicker of fear.
"You don't know what you're doing," she said, her voice trembling. "Killing me won't stop them."
"I'm not going to kill you," Alaric replied. "But you're going to answer my questions."
---
With the battle over, Alaric bound Ira's hands with a length of cord he found nearby. She glared at him, but she didn't resist.
The golden light around him dimmed, but it didn't fade completely. He could still feel its warmth, a reminder of the power he had tapped into.
"You'll regret this," Ira said, her voice low and venomous.
"Maybe," Alaric replied, his tone calm. "But right now, you're going to tell me everything I want to know."
As he led her back toward the abbey, Alaric couldn't help but feel the weight of what had just happened. This was no ordinary attack. Someone wanted him dead—and they were willing to send skilled assassins to make it happen.
But as the golden light flickered around him, Alaric knew one thing for certain: he wouldn't go down without a fight.
(Continue...)