"You shall not send her into the arms of death today savage." The loyalist Royal Guardsman hissed out in a low tone, the vow echoing no further than the confines of his own helmet as his gauntleted fingers released their hold on the taut bowstring. The twine cord shot forward as it was freed from the soldier's grasp, momentum snapping the bowstring forward and forcefully launching the arrow perched on it towards the missile's intended victim. The arrow ate away the distance to the Guardsman's target in the blink of an eye, the projectile hitting its mark as it slammed into the bow of the barbarian in the defensive corridor below. The force of the impact caused the stressed wood of the enemy's drawn bow to snap in two, the missile continuing forward to bury into the barbarian's black steel breastplate. The blow from the soldier's arrow combined with the two pieces of the broken bow slamming into the enemy's face, caused him to stumble backwards a step.
Richter had disarmed the most immediate assassination threat to his Queen but simply removing his current means to attack the rightful ruler of the Twilight Kingdom wasn't enough for the soldier's tastes. He quickly decided that the murderous barbarian had drawn breath for far too long as it was. Never taking his cold gaze off of the stunned form of the enemy warrior, Richter reached down to the quiver of arrows strapped across the back of the corpse of a Rebel Guardsman he'd run through. His fingers were about to close around a fresh projectile when he noticed that he no longer saw the figures of Queen Midna or her 'lady-in-waiting' that had surprisingly transformed into a brutally effective bodyguard. The loyalist Royal Guardsman quickly abandoned his intention to fire on the barbarian again and shot forward, throwing caution to the wind as he craned his head out of the arrow slit to try to locate the pair of escapees.
Unable to see the duo, Richter surmised that they must have passed under the elevated gatehouse and through the portcullis onto the path that lead down the side of the hill. The Queen was safely out of the castle and the soldier was going to ensure that she was permitted to continue enjoying that status. He withdrew his head back into the confines of the small room, tossing the bow he'd been using onto the body of the Rebel Guardsman that he'd taken it from as he quickly made his way to another one of the corpses that littered the floor of the gatehouse. The soldier paid no mind to the stilled forms of the men that less than an hour ago he'd counted as brothers-in-arms, nor were his hardened amber eyes lingering on the attention drawing contrast created by the crimson blood splattered across the dark gray stone walls.
Any hesitation he might've felt at killing his fellow Guardsmen was erased when he originally arrived at the gatehouse and announced the situation to the four men posted inside; each of which promptly drew steel on him. Having to defend oneself from attackers bent on killing one tended to erase all manner of sympathy and civility. It was that mentality that caused Richter to think of the four causalities in the room as little more than piles of trash, no thought of regret being given when he kicked aside the decapitated body of a Rebel Guardsmen to retrieve great axe that the enemy soldier had wielded against the loyalist Guardsman mere moments before. His gauntleted hands firmly wrapped around the hilt of the heavy weapon as he hoisted it up onto his shoulder and turned his gaze towards the large pulley system that currently held the portcullis below aloft.
The soldier forced himself to regulate his breathe to deep, slow heaves as he stepped up alongside the chain encircled wooden wheel and planted his feet in a wide, sturdy stance. He bellowed out a long, deep war cry as he hefted the great axe off of his armor's spaulders and drew it back over his shoulders. As soon as his arms traveled towards his back as far as they could stretch, he shot his shoulders down and towards the gate's opening mechanism. His arms didn't move at first, waiting half a heart beat before lashing his arms out towards the device with a lightning quick speed. The blade of the axe raised a thunderous clang and a shower of pale yellow sparks as it rammed into a link on the chain that was tightly coiled around the pulley wheel and ate deep into the steel. The strained chain link violently snapped as the weapon completely bisected it and caused the two new ends of the chain to whip away from each other with the explosive force of their pent up energy. The damage to the mechanism continued as Richter's momentum and the power in his still not fully extended arms kept driving the heavy head of the great axe forward, the sound of wood splintering ringing out in the confines of the gate house as the entire pulley system was torn free of its housing and slammed into the nearby wall. The loyalist Guardsman's war cry subsided just as a thunderous crash sounded out from below him, a deep tremor reverberating in the stone underneath his feet as the massive portcullis slammed into the ground with all the mighty power that gravity provided.
The soldier held his white knuckled grip on the great axe for a moment as dust began to waft up into the gatehouse from the impact of the gate hitting the roadway below, his mind slightly stunned at how well his attempt to bar the gate had worked. He briefly contemplated attempting to free the weapon that was lodged deeply in the solid wooden spool of the destroyed mechanism but ultimately surmised that it would far too much waste of effort to gain a single weapon more to the already numerous amount of discarded arms scattered about the room and released his hold on the hilt of the great axe. The thought of the available weapons caused him to slowly sweep his eyes across the charnel house scene laid out in the space surrounding him as he brought himself up to his full height once more. He found his thoughts strangely conflicted as his realized that he'd successfully fulfilled his promise to aid the Queen's flight but was unsure of what exactly he was to do now. There was no way he could dispatch the entire force that Ekaterina had at her disposal and of course surrender was out of the question.
Richter acknowledged to himself without regret that he was in his final moments on this mortal coil; the only real question was how to spend that final time. Simply walk back out onto the battlements and try to take as many of the traitor's men with him as he could? A classic blaze of final glory, a death no warrior would be ashamed of. But he couldn't help but ask himself what such a sacrifice would accomplish; even if he took a dozen of the Kingdom's newly revealed enemies with him, Ekaterina had many more troops in her nearby holdings to replenish losses from. A small smile crept onto his otherwise grim features as an old adage came to the forefront of his thoughts, 'When caught in turmoil, rely upon your knowledge'.
He instantly shifted his thoughts to the military matters he knew best and attempted to view the situation through the lens of what would help be most helpful to the mission. He faltered briefly as he found himself wondering exactly what his current mission could be considered. His survival was moot, he could not inflict lasting casualties on the enemy, and the Queen had successfully escaped. He gave himself a solemn nod as he decided on what his mission was, to give Queen Midna as much of a head start to wherever she was fleeing to for refuge. He would ensure that he denied access to the remains of the portcullis opening mechanism for as long as possible. However it was not a task he could accomplish alone.
The loyalist Guardsman shot forward towards one of the two doors that lead back onto the battlements, unsheathing his great sword from across his back as he opened the door and stepped back into the midst of the still raging battle. Combat returned to him more quickly than he excepted, Richter nearly colliding with another Guardsman who had been reaching for the door that the loyalist soldier had just opened. "Friend or foe to the Queen?" Richter curtly challenged as he shifted his weapon into a defensive posture. When the startled Guardsman raised his shield and drew back his long sword in preparation for lashing out with a thrust, the answer became obvious to the loyalist.
Realizing that he had no time strike out with his large great sword, Richter instead used the close quarters of himself and his enemy to his advantage as he twisted his body to the side and rammed his shoulder into the shield of the rebel Guardsman with all the force he could muster. His weight advantage over the slightly smaller enemy soldier worked to the loyalist Guardsman's benefit, the unexpected tactic causing the traitor to stumble backwards and allow his blade to dip down. It was an opening that Richter didn't intend to waste as he brought his own sword back in preparation for a horizontal cross-body slash at the enemy warrior and stepped towards the man to maximize the force behind the blow.
A scream erupted from the rebel Guardsman as the blade bit deep into his sword arm, the edge of the weapon quickly tearing through the entire right arm of the man as the loyalist Guardsman's sword ripped into the breastplate of the enemy soldier's armor and began cutting deep into the rebel warrior's flank. The sound of the steel encased severed arm clattering to the stones below rang out as the force of Richter's blow continued to cause the enemy soldier to be thrown to the side of the path, the loyalist Guardsman pushing even harder against the resistance of the man's rapidly weakening legs as he guided the mortally wounded enemy towards the nearby ramparts. A final push was that was needed to allow physics to take over and send the rebel Guardsman tumbling over the low wall that ran along the battlements, Richter jerking his great sword free of the body as it hurled towards the ground below.
As the sound of the armored corpse impacting against the stones of the roadway rang out, the loyalist Guardsman stepped up on the rampart the rebel had just been thrown from and thrust his sword up into the air as high as his armor would allow and bellowed out a command that echoed down the entire length of the defensive corridor. "Soldiers still loyal to our one true Queen! To me!" Richter roared out at a volume that he didn't think any Twili, let alone himself, could muster out of the depths of their lungs.
The forceful command seemed to have stunned the entire melee for a brief moment, as all participants cease their actions mid execution and turned their eyes towards the loyalist Guardsman. The unintended truce was quickly shattered though, one Guardsman of unknown affiliation snapping his gaze back towards his opponent and running the bewildered opposing soldier through with a lightning quick thrust before turning and dashing towards Richter's position. "I am with you sir!" The victor shouted out as he rapidly approached from the nearest perpendicular battlement. The pledge seemed to snap the various warriors back to reality as the sword play and exchange of arrows resumed in full ferocity.
Common sense quickly regained its foot hold in the loyal Guardsman's thoughts as he stepped down from the battlements, realizing that he'd just made himself the biggest target on the entire battlefield. He hurriedly rushed towards the corner of the battlements, eager to link up with the loyalist that just announced his intentions. He had just reached the bend in the pathway when a doorway of the elevated tower that capped off the turn in the outer walls of the defensive corridor burst outwards and a Guardsman strode onto the battlements. A slight stutter in his step as he saw himself being approached from two directions and an unintentional action of pulling his mace and shield tighter to his body had the effect of Richter instantly classifying the newcomer as a rebel soldier.
The enemy Guardsman apparently couldn't decide who of the two loyalists bearing down on him was the bigger threat and was shifting his shield slightly from one the other. It was yet another signal of the man's nervousness that the loyalist Guardsman planned to exploit. Richter drew back his great sword over his shoulder at an angle, intentionally exaggerating his movements in order to make his opponent believe that he was preparing to deliver a slow but potentially devastating downward diagonal blow. The rebel warrior was drawn completely into the feint, raising his shield high and spreading his feet to establish a solid base for his body to absorb the coming blow. As a final selling point, the loyalist soldier unleashed a fearsome war cry just as he closed the last bit of distance to the enemy Guardsman.
The overhead blow was never delivered, instead Richter stopped short and brought his leg up before bringing his armored foot crashing down on the front of the enemy warrior's knee. The thin armored plate that jutted up from the suit's greave that was designed to protect the joint quickly snapped free under the weight of the armored loyalist soldier's stomp, the sound of the metal breaking free followed quickly by the sound of the man's knee snapping as the joint was forcefully rammed backwards. The rebel soldier quickly collapsed to the ground his screams of pain quickly cut short as Richter spun his great sword to adjust his grip for a downward strike and slammed the point of the weapon into the slit in the helmet of the crippled opponent.
The loyalist Guardsman snapped his gaze up to the approaching form of his fellow loyalist as he planted his foot on the breastplate of the enemy he'd just dispatched and called out a command to his new ally as he dislodged his gore slick blade from the corpse of the rebel soldier. "Head into the gatehouse and check the other battlement for more of our brothers! Aid them however possible then fall back into the gatehouse and begin to fortify it however you can!"
"Yes sir!" The fellow loyalist replied with a quick nod, the man not breaking his stride as he rounded the corner of the battle and ran towards the squat structure that jutted up from the battlements.
Richter quickly shifted his gaze from the new ally passing him to the direction of the battlement that the fellow loyalist had just came from, seeking out signs of any other Guardsmen loyal to the Queen that were approaching. The vision that laid before him was a bleak one though; the battle seemed to be coming to a resolution, one that didn't favor the loyalists. There was one archer tough that was in a dead out sprint towards Richter with several Guardsmen armed with melee weapons giving chase. The loyalist guardsman quickly assessed the sight and decided that if the bowman was hostile, he would've fired on him instead of rushing into a close fight against him.
"Hurry!" Richter called out in an urgent tone, frantically waving the archer towards him with his off-hand. The scene quickly became worse as another bowman darted past the pursuing heavy armored Guardsmen in pursuit with a drawn longbow, the rebel soldier taking aim on the fleeing loyalist archer. The loyalist Guardsman opened his mouth to shout a warning but before he could form the words, an arrow sailed across the gap of the defensive corridor and buried itself directly into the ear of the enemy archer. Barely a heartbeat had gone by before another arrow shot across the empty air from the opposite battlement and struck one of the rebel Guardsmen in the neck, the arrowhead punching through the thin chainmail and digging deep into the man's throat.
"Quickly! You are clear!" Richter implored to the fleeing bowman once more, his pursuers abandoning their chase to seek cover from the deadly accurate hail of missiles being directed at them from what the loyalist Guardsman could only assume was a sympathetic archer. "Into the gatehouse! Now!" He commanded as the retreating bowman blew past him, Richter quickly falling into a run behind the sprinting man. The loyalist Guardsman saw the archer enter the shadows beyond the doorway of the structure and within a few more seconds, burst into the room himself and slammed the door shut behind him before throwing his full weight against the thick wood.
Richter's breaths came in deep heaves as he quickly took visual stock of the situation inside the gatehouse. He saw that the opposite door was currently held ajar by an exhausted looking female Guardsman, a wide stream of blood slowly oozing out of a long horizontal cut that began at her temple and matted her blood stained gray hair to the side of her head. He barely had time to notice how badly dented her armor was in several places before he directed his gaze to her.
"Pull anybody left back in here!" The newly and unofficially established loyalist leader commanded to one of his equally newly and unofficially established subordinates.
"Yes sir!" The woman responded in a voice that carried with a strength that seemed impossible given her current state. "Fall back!" She shouted out into the air beyond the door. Almost immediately after the female loyalist Guardsman relayed the orders a female archer sprinted into the room with a feline grace, her thin black chainmail armor seeming to not impede her movements at all; her blood red eyes alertly scanning the room with an almost predatory shine to them. On the heels of the female archer was the original swordsman that Richter had joined forces with, the man's shield now home to at least a half dozen arrows imbedded deeply into its steel face.
The loyalist swordsman landed a heavy slap on the spaulder of the female Guardsman as he entered the room, the action causing the instantaneous reaction of the injured soldier to abandon her hold on the door and dart further into the room; the swordsman in turn closing and leaning against the door in the same fashion as Richter.
"You three," The loyalist leader called out to the two archers and female Guardsman. "Grab weapons, furniture, pieces of armor from these bodies, whatever you can find to wedge these doors and arrow slits shut. We've got to fortify this room as best as possible and hold it for as long as we can."
"Right away Captain…?" The injured soldier asked, verbally seeking out the name of the ad-hoc group's leader.
"Richter." The loyalist leader replied, a tired smile springing into existence underneath his helmet. "Corporal Richter."
"Understood Captain." The female Guardsman replied with a warmth visible in her pale blue eyes. "Private Livia by the way." She added with a tap of a finger against her breastplate before turning to carry out the orders she'd been given, a shaft of light filtering in from partially ajar arrow silt revealing the markings of a Royal Guard sergeant on her armor. Richter ignored Livia's strange need to apparently promote him while demoting herself and instead nodded his head towards the swordsman.
"What about you?" The loyalist leader asked in as cordial a voice as he could muster.
"Corporal Lucas at your service." The sword and shield wielding Guardsman answered in an unnaturally calm voice, lifting one of his hands free from the door to lift his helmet up enough to reveal a red goatee and a pair of red eyes with a sly edge to them. Lucas bowed his head slightly before settling his helmet back into place.
"Malachai." The male archer chimed in nervously as he busied himself with using his dagger to cut through the leather straps that held the armor worn by the corpses in the room in place. Only after he'd spoken did Richter note how young Malachai looked; the archer couldn't be more than a summer or two into manhood and judging by the shaky hand he was running through his black hair, he was as green as a soldier could be.
A long silence filled the air before all eyes turned to the female archer who had yet to speak, the woman's long yellow hair swaying back and forth as she went about trying to rock the great axe free from the pulley spool that the loyalist leader had buried it in earlier. It took a long moment before she glanced up and realized that everyone was staring at her, an annoyed sigh escaped her lips as she stood up from her task and turned to face her fellow loyalists.
"It doesn't matter what my name is," She replied in an irritated tone as she gave a shrug and a shake of her head. "Call me 'dirty whore' for all I care. Why bother with pleasantries? We're here for one reason only right? Our lives for time for the Queen right? I'd rather not waste the little time I have left developing bonds of friendship with people that I'll never leave the room with."
Raze hissed out a curse in his native barbarian tongue as he ripped a length of gray cloth free from one of the discarded robes that the escaping royal and her escort had been using as disguises. He moved with a slow, intimidating looking precision as he brought the strip of material to his forehead and centered it on the ragged looking gash that ran from his right eye brow up to just shy of his hairline. With a firm tug the barbarian wrapped the tails of the improvised dressing around his pale white braids and secured it with a knot that pulled the fabric tight enough that it likely would've caused a headache in most people. Raze didn't bother with a bandaging the injury's twin, an equally gruesome looking tear in his flesh that ran from his right cheek and dipped below his jawline, content to let it slowly ooze blood down his neck before disappearing behind his breastplate. His concerns weren't preventing exsanguination, infection, or even for aesthetic reasons; he wouldn't even have worried with the wound along his forehead if not for the fact that blood dripping into his eye was an annoyance to him. The barbarian rose up from his squat with a slight sound of his armor creaking, a few stray droplets still seeping from his face splattering on the cobblestones at his feet as surveyed his surroundings.
The battle that had been raging along the length of the defensive corridor had been won for all intents and purposes, most of Ekaterina's men busyed themselves with picking through their fallen enemies or tending to wounds of their comrades. The sole point of activity that seemed to diverge from the rest was at both sides of the elevated gatehouse, small groups of men had positioned themselves at each door and appeared to be in the process of attempting to beat them down. A quick glance at the heavy iron portcullis hanging below the gatehouse and preventing access to the roadway beyond served as all the explanation Raze needed to grasp the situation. His gaze shifted to the nearby form of one of soldiers loyal to the Duchess as the man finished slicing the throat of one of the opposing Royal Guards that had been laying wounded on the cobblestone roadway. "Soldier." The barbarian called out, his gravelly voice taking on a curt yet commanding tone.
"Yes sir?" The warrior inquired as he quickly rose from his squatting position alongside the enemy corpse and trotted up to the imposing figure of Raze. While the barbarian's position as Ekaterina's personal bodyguard had no official standing in her men at arms' chain of command, the vast majority of her soldiers complied with his requests either out of fear or deferring to his superior knowledge of warfare.
"Tell them to cease their assault." Raze commanded, nodding his head towards the gatehouse. "Anyone in there has had plenty of time to destroy the mechanism to control the portcullis." He explained. The Barbarian was loathe to waste his time explaining what he felt were obvious conclusions that only a fool could not draw, but he often found that even the most stubborn of the Duchess' men would heed the advice of 'some damned barbarian' if he included his reasoning for issuing a command. Normally Raze was content to let them look like idiots until they actually adopted his plans but his amusement would have to wait, every second wasted was another yard's distance that Midna was putting between herself and the castle. That in and of itself would not have given the barbarian cause for concern but it was not the recently disposed Queen that was the problem, it was her recently exposed guardian that was the genesis for the sense of urgency within Raze's mind. The woman was clearly both a trained warrior and skilled spy judging by her combat performance and the fact that she had kept her identity so well hidden since the beginning of her involvement with Midna. The barbarian wanted prey with those skills to have as little lead on him as possible, lest the trail be lost.
"Leave a token force, mainly comprised of archers to watch the gatehouse to prevent those inside from attempting a breakout or harassing your forces with archery." Raze instructed further, his words coming quickly and his tone remaining curt. "Send everyone else to scour the castle for anything that be used to construct a lever strong enough to lift the gate and columns to support it once it is raised. Notify me as soon as it is open enough to support a man slipping under it."
"Understood sir." The soldier replied with a nod before turning and jogging off towards one of the doors that permitted access to the stairways that lead up to the battlements.
"Raze." A different voice called out from behind the barbarian's position.
"What?" Raze replied in an annoyed tone as he turned to see the form of another one of the Duchess' men approaching from the direction of the castle's courtyard.
"Queen Ekaterina commands your presence in the assembly chamber." The messenger stated flatly as he pointed back towards the main keep and stepped out of the barbarian's path. Raze have a nod of understanding and set off towards the location for his meeting, mentally suppressing an urge to chuckle as he mused over the man's words in his thoughts. 'So she's already dubbed herself 'queen' before the bodies of her little coup are even cold. This should be entertaining.'
Ekaterina's skin was fire, her tightly clenched fists shaking with anger as she paced a short tract of space atop the black marble and gold inlay that dominated the floor of the assembly chamber. She'd always known that Raze was rash and brutal in his execution of his duties and his opinions but this was far beyond being simply classified as his usual actions. He was a rabid dog that had outlived his usefulness and needed to be put down. Unfortunately it wasn't that simple. Despite the fact that he was clearly out of line, there was no denying that the barbarian was the best shot at tracking down Midna. Not that Midna truly mattered anymore herself, but she was seen departing with the Crown of fused shadows atop her head. The crown had to be recovered if Ekaterina's claim to the throne was to be seen as truly legitimate.
Of course while the tale that she and her lady in waiting had murdered the High Pontifex held enough water to have raised the alarm and give both her men and the Royal Guards that had survived Zant's coup reason to detain the young Queen, it would not hold up to any real scrutiny put it on by those that knew her or after an investigation of any length. Likewise while she could say that Ezekiel was under sort of spell or seduction of Midna's, it would still boil down to the fact that a heathen barbarian slew the supreme religious authority of the Pantheon among the Twili peoples. The citizens would demand Raze's head. Her personal bodyguard's fate was sealed regardless, but he could prove useful one final time.
However the new Queen would be a fool to think she was somehow immune from the murderous rampage that Raze appeared to be intent upon judging from recent events so she did take precaution prior to summoning the barbarian to her. Flanking the throne on the raised dias behind her were her two best equipped and well trained knights, while a pair of master archers were positioned at the corners of the observation balcony that jutted out from the wall ahead of her. If Raze did attempt to assassinate her as he did with the High Pontifex then he would find her a much more difficult target than an unarmed old man with only a fledgling monk for company. The lost of her best asset for tracking down Midna would be setback but if Raze attacked her then it would be obvious that he couldn't be controlled anymore.
Any further thoughts that Ekaterina intended to mull over were cut short as the massive door leading into assembly chamber swung open to reveal the imposing form of the barbarian, his black armor creating a stark contrast as he stepped into the room and was presented against its rare white marble walls. "You requested my presence?" He inquired in as relaxed a tone as his voice would muster, the expression on his maimed face appearing flippant. The new Queen did not acknowledge him verbally, instead presenting merely a slow nod as Raze descended the steps from the rear of the nobles' seating area to the main floor, his unnaturally light footfalls becoming completely soundless as his stride transitioned from the marble floor to the purple velvet rug that laid upon the steps. Ekaterina's arms remained at her sides, one of her fingers idly tapping against her thigh as the barbarian finished crossing the small distance to where she stood on the main floor. "Well, what is it?" He asked in a bored sounding tone as he came to a stop and crossed his arms across his chest casually.
"Idiot!" The new Queen screamed in a fury as she let her hand fly, the slap connecting with a painful sound against Raze's left cheek; the impact causing droplets of bloods from his still uncovered wound on his opposite cheek to splatter a few feet away on the outer edge of the floor's decorative inlay. "Do you realize what you've done? This was supposed to be a bloodless exchange of power! There were a thousand different ways this could've done with minimal or no loss of life, instead you murder the High Pontifex and plunge the castle into a full civil war!"
The barbarian's reaction was not at all what Ekaterina was expecting. Instead of scowling or even lunging at her, he blinked twice in surprise and then began to laugh of all things. The strange reaction to her striking and scolding him put the new Queen off-balance for a moment, her rage forgotten as confusion filled her mind. The effect was shorted live though, as the sound of his laughter quickly bringing back her anger full force. Raze was had either gone mad or was mocking her, quite possibly both. The new Queen brought her hand back again and let it fly, thinking to slap some sense into the crazed bodyguard.
Ekaterina's hand never found it's mark. Acting with reflexes much faster than anyone could of possibility reacted to, the barbarian stopped laughing and shot his hands out, one catching the wrist of the new Queen's striking hand and twisting it painfully behind her back while his other hand wrapped around her throat with enough force to be painful but not with enough pressure to actually crush her windpipe. An immediate thought forced its way into her mind, Raze could easily kill her in this manner but he didn't. He was intentionally holding back. Madmen don't bother holding back. Men with plans do. The implications of that thought immediately sent her into a panic.
"Don't move!" Raze commanded, looking past Ekaterina to the pair of knights near the throne. "If either of you move for your swords," a wicked looking smile crossed his face as he jerked his head behind him. "Or if I so much as hear the tightening of bow strings from the balcony I'll crush her throat." Satisfied that he had reminded the soldiers of the peril that their liege was end and how easily she could be dispatched, he lowered his gaze back to the new Queen and continued. "You 'civil' Twili never cease to amuse me, you plot and scheme but yet when it comes time to act you grow uncertain at the slightest bit of bloodshed. A new age is upon us my 'dear' Ekaterina and it would not wait forever for you to put your little plots into motion. I merely accelerated the opening moves of the game. Now then, it's time for you to choose. Are you going to enjoy a position of power in this new age and all the privileges that come with it?" The barbarian allowed a long pause to sink into the conversation, the silence serving to only further amplify the feeling of tension that hung heavily in the air of the assembly chamber. "Or," He began again, the first syllable as startling as an unexpected thunderclap, "you can be just another body upon the pyres."
"Now then," He continued, his tone suddenly sounding inappropriately cordial. "I'm going off to find and kill Midna. Make your decision before I get back." Without any further words, he suddenly released Ekaterina; the woman collapsing to her knees and staring at the departing form of Raze. She heard the guards behind her begin to rush forward, though the barbarian made no move to react to the knights closing to no doubt attempt to kill him. Though before they had even made it off of the dias that was home of the throne of the Twili Kingdom, the new Queen shot her hand out indicating them to hold fast; the action allowing Raze to depart the assembly chamber in peace.
Ekaterina was shaking again, though its source was not anger this time. It was fear. The way the barbarian acted was unnerving to her. He had likened the events that had happened and that he believed would happen to a game. Mentally using that same metaphor, the woman kneeling helpless on the main floor of the assembly chamber of the Twili Kingdom felt a chill run down her spine as she was struck with the realization that Raze must possess several pieces on the board that were hidden from sight. Even more disturbingly to Ekaterina was the unshakeable notion after the way the barbarian acted that she wasn't even one of the players.