Chapter 1: The Ante

Ante

A compulsory, minimum opening or starting bet put up by players before each hand.

The cloth against his face was rough and foul smelling, though it did its job of obscuring not only his vision, but his entire face. It blocked out his sense of smell, of direction, and his ability to discern whether he was inside or outside, or if it was daytime or nighttime. His hands were bound painfully against his back, his wrists scraped raw by the rope holding them together and he could feel blood drop down the fingers of one of them, staining into his tunic. Rough hands gripped either of his elbows, forcing him along in a cold area that he could only imagine was made of some kind of stone based on the sound his boots made against the floor.

It was unnaturally smooth, so he could easily assume that he was inside somewhere at the very least, and the hall was wide enough for the three of them to fit abreast without discomfort. While he was not used to being put in a situation such as this, he knew he had to keep his wits about him to make sure he would be able to get out alive. A sudden pause in their step nearly sent him tumbling, but the hands on his arms kept him upright with bruising force, and he had to resist the overwhelming urge to tear away. It would be foolish. There was no way he could know how many people were nearby, he hadn't any idea where Brynhildr was, and fighting back defenselessly was a death wish.

A door creaked open, and Leo found himself aggressively carted along again though it was only for a moment before he was shoved down onto a short, flat surface that seemed to be a rather small stool. Though the men released him, he was not foolhardy enough to attempt to run, and waited until whomever had ordered him here showed their face. Leo was no stranger to the many factions of resistance groups that littered around Nohr. When you are one of the strongest sons of the reigning king, you came to expect them, learn about them, and destroy them in turn; crush them under your heel before they gain enough traction to do any harm.

This instance, however, was too little, too late. Leo heard someone hum under their breath, though it was far enough away for him to think he may be hearing things. "Let me see him." The voice was low and sultry, one that Leo did not recognize, and he felt someone grasp his shoulder before forcefully removing the cloth from around his head. He sucked in a breath of fresh air, free from the putrid smell of the burlap, and took in his bearings as quickly as he could. The architecture was older, the brickwork laid in a way that narrowed down his location substantially, as only the older mansions and castles of Nohr were made in this way.

His dark eyes flicked to the window, and he saw a long, grassy knoll immediately outside with an archaic windmill atop, though the blades were torn and falling apart. The mill seemed to be empty, perhaps for many years, and Leo was able to glance out one more window on the other side and catch a quick glimpse of a long stretch of flat, dead land outside before someone grasped his hair, forcing him to face forward. "The illustrious Prince Leo," the same voice said in a mocking manner, the heavy sound of his boots sounding from a shadow at the edge of the room that was slowly becoming encompassed in darkness. He could make out some of his clothes, though the face was still shrouded and the voice was still a mystery to him.

Leather boots, worn in places from much use, clung to the man's legs up past his knee, where striped pants were encompassed nearly completely by a dark blue cloak. The edges were frayed and falling apart, and he could see a quiver of arrows strapped around the person's waist and a rather fine bow hanging from his back. He could not make out any more than that, as the man had stopped walking towards him and would not reveal his face. But Leo knew that he was in the presence of some kind of dangerous criminal, someone who was stupid enough to kidnap a Prince of Nohr and manage to succeed. He needed to be careful, as this man was no ordinary outlaw, and he chose not to reply as he kept his head up as proudly as he could. Leo would not be intimidated.

The silence lingered for a moment before the man's boots sounded again, moving out of the shadow finally and into Leo's view in the falling sunlight. Leo took in as much as he could remember, in case he would have to describe the man later if he got out of this situation alive. His skin was dark and helped his stark white hair stand out against his face. He wore a black eyepatch on his right eye, though the other was a cold blue that was focused on Leo intently. His mouth was skewed into a humorless half smile and his arms crossed over his bared chest. All of that information was filed away carefully into Leo's mind as he stared unabashedly at the man's face, burning it into his memory.

The windmill on the hill, archaic Nohrian architecture, grassy field, white haired archer with dark skin. That seemed to be everything that would be useful information for the future, and the man had reached a point directly before Leo once he had finished processing that information. He was tall and broad, though Leo wondered if he just had a bad vantage point from where he sat on the low stool. The man knelt down before Leo, waiving his hand casually at the person behind him who finally released the vice grip on his hair. "You've brought me all this way just to kneel before me," Leo said flatly, no humor in his voice though he found some irony in the situation.

Against his expectation, the man reacted with a short bark of laughter, his mouth curled up in genuine mirth as he reached forward to grasp at Leo's chin. His hands were warm and callous against Leo's face, and he ran his thumb across the prince's mouth deftly and with no sign of hesitation. "You really are quite a surprise, Milord," he said coolly, as Leo remained still in his hand, keeping his expression neutral and unaffected. The white haired man stood as released his face, taking a step back and placing on hand against his hip. "My name is Niles."

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Niles?" Leo found himself surprisingly calm given the circumstances though it did not stop him from trying to loosen the rope that was biting painfully into his wrists. He was certain the white tunic that he wore was unsalvageable, though perhaps his entire life was forfeit at this point and it would be absurd to be worrying about a piece of clothing. Niles' humorless smile was still painted on his face, his eye still trained on Leo as he remained silent for a moment. With one deft movement, his hand darted to his belt and a knife flashed before Leo's eyes as Niles twirled it between his fingers.

He said, "Let us talk plainly." He reached out and grasped Leo's shirt, tugging him forward and he saw his other hand dart around Leo. His breath caught in his throat as he waited for pain, a knife between his ribs or in his back, but he heard a dull thud and his hands were freed from the rope. One of them was bleeding as badly as he suspected and the other was still whole, though the skin was dark red from the friction. A hand still in Leo's tunic, Niles lifted him from his seat and released the cloth, waving away the rest of the guards from the room. "Go on," he ordered, beginning to light candles around the hall as the sun faded past the horizon.

Much to Leo's surprise they acquiesced, and he glanced around for a moment long enough to see the door shut behind whoever was in the room. Well, it didn't matter if he didn't see their faces. Niles was obviously in charge, and if his family's wrath needed to befall someone, he would be first in line. "For this conversation to occur, it would be necessary for you to initiate it," Leo finally stated when Niles said nothing, fixing his tunic that had been tugged askew and pressing a sleeve to his bleeding wrist. Hopefully he could calm flow enough to stop it, because he needed nothing to distract him if he were to escape from this place as soon as he could.

Niles moved towards him quickly and Leo stepped back, a thousand thoughts spinning through his head at the same time trying to decide how to best defend himself. Before he could move, the callous fingers were against his skin again, taking his hand and examining the damage on his wrist. "True," he replied as if nothing strange had happened. Leo allowed him to look at his skin though he didn't know what to say, his eyes watching Niles' for some kind of sign. He released Leo's hand and tossed a roll of bandages towards him from the table. Leo nearly dropped them. "To speak as plainly as necessary given the circumstances, Prince Leo, you are our hostage."

"That much is clear," he bit back, the bandages still clenched in his hand. He could almost roll his eyes at the absurdly obvious statement. "What are your demands? What are you looking to accomplish by taking me captive?" Niles watched him with that frustrating half smile, his head tilted with white hair falling into his face.

"My, my, someone is a little forceful, aren't they?" Leo did not appreciate the suggestive tone that Niles' voice took as he grasped the hand that still held the bandages, holding Leo's arm against his chest as he leaned in close to his face. It was vaguely flustering, though Leo was too angry to feel anything but overwhelming hatred for this man. Niles was dangerously close to Leo, their noses nearly touching as he held the prince in place, his fingers digging into the sore skin of his wrist. "Don't act like you're the one in charge here, little Prince. You're only alive out of the goodness of my heart, please act accordingly."

With a loud scoff Leo tore his hand away, ignoring the pain and snapping back, "It's intriguing how you expect to feed me those lies and I will accept it without question. If you wanted me dead, I would be dead." His voice was venomous and he took a step back from Niles as he tossed the bandages back at him without any real effort. He caught it easily. "No, you believe a Prince of Nohr is more valuable alive as a bargaining chip. And you believe I am worthless to you as a corpse. So, if you please, no more games. What is it you want?" Niles looked amused, his arms crossed over his chest once again as he regarded Leo well after he had finished speaking.

"Very observant. Rumors of your intelligence are not exaggerated." Leo flushed, a slew of emotions running through him all at the same time as he struggled to maintain his composure. This man was playing him and he was not going to be a part of the game. He remained quiet, his mouth pressed into a line of anger that would have been acted upon had he been in possession of Brynhildr. "Very well, my liege," he said, every epithet laced with sarcasm as he bowed exaggeratedly towards Leo. "You are a bargaining chip, a very important one. Taking you was the final piece in the puzzle, and we will use you to get your father the king to give us what we want."

He spat, "What do you think the second son of the king would get you?" Xander was next in line for the throne, and after him was Camilla. Leo's death or life would not affect the kingdom's monarchy in any way, and he knew that his death or life would not affect King Garon either. "My father will not weep over my death nor will you get what you want. Your bargaining chip will prove a gamble that you will lose." The words were bitter on his tongue and he forced the sharp contrast of his emotions settling into a cold visage of control from the fiery anger he felt seconds before. For the first time since their initial meeting, Niles' face had not twisted into some kind of devilish smile. A frown crossed his features, and he grabbed Leo's upper arm so tightly he thought it was going to break.

"We will see about that."