Squat behind a chimney on the roof of the lower market, Roxas peers his head around the corner to view a local pub of the slums. He checks his pocket watch for the third time.
Even if Valendia if a prosperous city, it is still a capital city and it wasn't hard to find its underbelly of slums, and brothels and filthy taverns.
Sewage and puddles of excrement lay beneath every window of the slums, and the cobblestone streets are cracked and misshapen after many hard winters. The buildings lean against each other, some so ramshackle that even the poorest citizens have abandoned them. On most streets, the taverns overflow with drunks and whores and everyone else who sought temporary relief from their miserable lives.
After the briefing with the Thirteen, Roxas, Maleek, Laguna, Edge and Vincent set out towards the slums to try and locate the alleged bandit from that rival group out in Koga Village.
They've stuck to the shadows, Vincent and Edge living well up to their reputation as The Shadows, immediately vanishing into any sliver of darkness; as they have been trained since infancy. To anyone else, Edge and Vincent would've been invisible, but for Roxas, just a mere squint of the eyes and he could see their darkened outline. He suppressed a chuckle as they leap from roof to roof until they reached their location. Perhaps he should look for attaining the title of The Shadows.
Roxas was fairly impressed for how the Thirteen's members managed to stalk through the streets so, skillfully. When he was leaping across the roofs with them, he almost felt as if he was back in his Father's Guild with Riku and Vanitas and Xion. He had expected them to be, well . . . clumsy. With the armor they wear in addition to the many belts and straps of weapons, each making them a walking armory –
But no, they kept up fine, leaping as nimbly as cats, and slinking as smooth as snakes. Roxas was more than impressed, and none of them even bothered to shift into their animal forms.
Instead of wearing the clunky armor that was remade from Reno's suit, Roxas wears instead an attire of complete ebony. Something to bring him back to his days of an assassin. He might as well admit it, he misses the rush that comes with what his occupation. And to his surprise, Maleek didn't protest when Roxas emerged from his chambers, a thick black cape billowing behind him. Most likely because Roxas was covered from head to toe, and the only thing exposed was his eyes.
Everything he wears is an enhancement of the killing potential that lies beneath. It is present in his strong jaw, in the slope of his eyebrows, in the perfect stillness of his form. He is a honed blade made by his father for his own profit. Roxas is a predatory animal – a mountain lion or a dragon – and his markings of power are everywhere.
They needed to be discreet on this mission as no one is to know that the Thirteen are in the city, in turn it could drive off the lone bandit. So they stick with the darkness that surrounds them, though Laguna decided to go undercover as a simple citizen.
As he checks around the chimney for his fifth time in the passing of two minutes, he tries to keep an eye out for any signs of glinting metal behind cloaks, darker clothing with masks and to see someone look over their shoulder.
Peering across the streets, Roxas lifts his head and narrows his eyes, managing to make out Maleek's shadow behind another chimney. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Roxas makes a near perfect imitation of a mockingbird. Maleek replies back with two tweets. Nothing yet. Nothing suspicious.
Down on the streets, Roxas can see Laguna talking it up with a woman who is running a textiles booth a block down. His civilian attire consists of a medium blue jacket with white studs and grooves, white undershirt, brown pants, black boots and dog tags. The woman laughs as Laguna examines a silk square, and then a one of velvet. The woman seemed a little stunned to see Laguna out in the open, but only because his pointed ears and sharpened canines were exposed. After she warmed up, she treated him like any other customer, the two of them sharing a laugh. And then Laguna cocks his head up.
Roxas immediately follows the Elven man's stare, feeling his head turn in sync with the other Elven warriors.
Then he spots it. He sees a figure walk towards the front entrance of the building, guarded by a burly man with tattoo sleeves on both arms and coated in clothes of ebony. The figure has a dark colored cloak on, but just as he enters the tavern, caught in the glimpse of something in the golden light. Metal; weapons.
The man nods to the burly guard outside the door and enters in no problem. Another clue: he must be a regular. Comes often enough that the guard recognizes him. How often does he make his visits to the Royal City?
Immediately Roxas hears Maleek's birdcall to the group and Roxas ducks further behind the chimney. Slowly he peers out from the alleyway and finds nothing. The guard at the front door keeps turning his head from side to side as shadows slide down the walls and disappear into the alleys.
Roxas watches, counts as the members appear from the alleys and make their way towards the doors. They come one after another, setting five to seven minutes in between one another to avoid suspicion. They pay the guard a decent amount of coin to let them in without questions.
Laguna.
Vincent.
Edge.
And Maleek.
Then the time comes for Roxas to make his own entrance. He slithers his way across the roof and shimmies down a drainpipe and into the alley. He checks both left and right before adjusting his cloak and cowl before approaching the light.
Slinking his way inside, one can find the cutthroats, the monsters, and the damned of Valendia. The filth come here to exchange stories and make deals, and it is here that any whisperer of the missing people and husk bodies will be found.
Roxas remembers that his father had brought him to similar places like this a few times back when he was younger. It had scared Roxas deeply when he was younger, but once he learned of his father's dark power and the reputation he held back then, he soon walked in with his head held high and proud, even if it he too wanted to be somewhere else.
He heads down the steps into the speakeasy, the reek of ale and unwashed bodies hit him like a stone to the face.
The main chamber is strategically lit: a chandelier in the center of the room, but there is little light to be found along the walls for those who sought not to be seen. Roxas can immediately find The Thirteen members scattered about, already managing to strike up conversations with some of the tenants. All laughter halts as Roxas he strode between the tables. Red-rimmed eyes following his every step.
And cloaked in darkness, Roxas stalks inside. He makes no sound as he passes through the threshold. Donned in his black armored uniform, he steps into the bar. The cape billows behind him, his face remaining expressionless beneath his obsidian mask as he moves towards the bar counter.
It makes no difference how many see him. None will bother him tonight.
The barkeep is already pale, his sparse hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He tries to peer beneath peer beneath Roxas' cowl as he halts at the bar, but the mask and hood keep his features hidden.
"Drink?" the barkeep asks, wiping sweat from his brow. Everyone in the bar is still watching him, either discreetly or outright.
"No." Roxas says, his voice is contorted and deep beneath his mask.
The barkeep grips the edge of the counter. "You – you're back" he says quietly, as more heads turn. "You escaped."
So he did recognize Roxas, then. Roxas spins the glass in a circle in his hand. "Escaped" is the word that could start turning this tavern into a mad house. Already Roxas is contemplating how many bodies he'd leave in his wake if they decided to start a fight right here, right now.
Roxas leans on the bar, crossing one ankle of the other. The barkeep mops his brow again and pours him a brandy. "On the house," he says, sliding it to Roxas. He catches it in his hand, but doesn't drink it. The barkeep wets his lips. "How – how did you escape?"
People lean back in their chairs, straining to hear. Let them spread rumors. Let them hesitate before crossing his path. He hopes that his mother hears, too. He hopes she hears and stays the hell away from him.
"You'll soon discover that," Roxas says. "But I have need of you."
His brows lift. "Me?"
"I have come to inquire after a man." Roxas' voice is scratchy and hollow. "A man who has recently come into the city. He goes by the name of Clayton. I need to know where he is."
"I don't know what you're talking about." The barkeep's face turns even paler.
Roxas reaches into a pocket and pulls out a glittering fistful of gold. A mere eighth of his pay for the week. All eyes watched them now.
"Allow me to repeat my question, barkeep."
"No need." A voice speaks behind them.
Roxas looks over his shoulder and finds the man he was hoping to gain the attention of. Turning to him, the barkeep takes back the brandy drink. With a sweep of his arm, the gold is off the counter.
The man is cloaked in black like Roxas, only his attire and cloak seem to ripple red in the limited light. He is very tall man, and under his hood he has thinning hair as well as a pencil thin mustache. Roxas can already see two duel swords with long curved blades and a gleaming snake etched into its gold pommel.
Roxas purposely laughs tauntingly. "I'm not sure whether to laugh or to spit." he snarls.
"I'd watch your tongue, boy." The man replies with a narrow of his eyebrows.
"I would if I knew you'd be a challenge."
The man's gloved hands clench. One slightly twitches towards the hilt of his swords, but lowers. Roxas doesn't need to kill him, not yet. He just needs to taunt enough that he can piece more of the plan together. Hopefully they'll be that stupid.
"Well, I might as well admit it," Clayton says as he takes a daring step forward. That enough makes the people sitting near bolt out of his way. "I am personally honored to be in the presence of Kingdom Heart's most notorious assassin."
Roxas swallows. They knew, but it sounds like they don't know why he is here. "As you should be. It was made sure that no one, not even your prosperous continent was safe from my shadow."
"Especially considering that you were sent to the Gollund Mines – for life. What happened? Did even they grow tired of you?" Clayton pushes. His keenness would make any assassin proud.
"I tired of them." Is all Roxas answers with.
"And yet you chose to stay in Valendia instead of sailing back off to Kingdom Hearts. Why? Some unfinished business?"
"My business is mine. It is none of your concern." Roxas immediately snaps. His voice rose, and in turn a few of the tavern members flinched, some hunching further into themselves. Even Clayton was surprised. Roxas had to admit, the man was well-trained. "A better question would be as to why you're here. From what I've learned, you're a long way from Koga Village."
Clayton's eyebrows twitch ever so slightly, giving all Roxas needs to know of his surprise. The man composes himself but swallows, another sign of nervousness. Roxas deviously grins as the man says. "And how do I owe the honor of getting and keeping your attention, Mister Skyes?"
Roxas can't let them know that he is here on business with The Thirteen; let alone let them know that he's part of The Thirteen. If word gets back to the bandits that one of their own was killed by Roxas Skyes, a member of the Thirteen, it'll provoke them to some to the Royal City and possibly bring their new creature weapons with them. That and Roxas' cover will be blown, because as far as he is aware, everyone still thinks he is stuck in the Gollund Slave Mines. Well, everyone outside the tavern. He'll have to come back and bribe the barkeep, but he doesn't know what to do with the other inhabitants . . . yet.
It'd be better if they believed Clayton was killed by means of Guild business, than of the Thirteen. As Maleek has told him over and over, they don't kill without good reason. But as far as Roxas is concerned, having Clayton's tongue wagging about how he is still in the city is a good enough reason to have him die.
Roxas just hopes that the others will stay out of the fight. At least until they are away from prying eyes of the public.
So Roxas merely smiles as he adjusts his arm under his cloak, reaching for a dagger. "I've been searching for some entertainment."
He barely finishes his sentence, barely manages to bring up his forearm – protected with a steel vambrace – to block his face as the Clayton's dagger readies to slice at his nose. Roxas' free hand manages to grab a dagger from his belt and parry Clayton's next stab for his eye.
The people in the tavern squeak and scramble out of the way as the brawl begins. They cower in the corners and the barkeep ducks behind the counter.
Roxas pulls forth another dagger and he sidesteps out of the way of Clayton's oncoming kick and slices a cut along Clayton's calf before spinning and goes to slash at his side. But Clayon blocks it with his short sword and their metal clangs against one another before Clayton's fist plows into Roxas' jaw.
Pain crackles along the side of his face, traveling up his temple and around his skull. Roxas' back slams into the wall but he keeps his sense in check as he ducks under the next punch armed with a spiked knuckle brace. But the next one comes striking like a viper at his side and Roxas stumbles back, clashing with a table set. Blood dribbles down his chin and Roxas can sense the throbbing pain of his split lip.
As Clayton charges Roxas grabs a chair and swings it towards Clayton as he swings his spiked mace. The collision sounds with a bone-shaking rumble and Roxas can feel the power of the man as he's sent flying backwards, through the closed tavern door and into the street, the chair flying next to him. Roxas' stomach clenches as he catches the waft of charred wood and his back aches with the feeling of splinters impaling his spine.
On your feet, Roxas commands to himself.
Pushing to his feet, Roxas looks over his shoulder, and his eyes wide as he finds Clayton's mace glowing. The head of the weapon flickers and spits with fire.
"What do you know of the husk bodies being found in The Orient?" Roxas commands.
Clayton's confused look is all Roxas needs to gather to know that they have nothing to do with the creature and its scattering of bodies.
"Bodies? Strange that be. But I'm afraid I'm not your man."
Roxas can tell that he is telling the truth. He wouldn't have anything to gain by lying. They don't know anything.
But still, Roxas can't have him running about blabbering that Kingdom Heart's Assassin is free from Gollund and roaming about. For some reason, Roxas thinks that it will interfere with his discreet identity back at the castle. Kiros is already upset with him.
And yet, Maleek said that no one really knew who Roxas Skyes was except that he is male and much older. And yet by now, Roxas would fit those qualifications of his assumed reputation.
It would seem that because they can't see his face, other aspects of Roxas: his attire and his demeanor, is what notifies people of who he is.
Clayton comes up behind him, but Roxas spins and strikes him with a roundhouse kick. Stumbling back, Clayton blocks Roxas' coming punches and kick to the shoulder.
"You had better be telling the truth, or I won't leave anything for them to bury you!"
"I know nothing! I have better things to do than wonder why husks of demi-elves are being found in places!"
Clayton then spins under Roxas' blade of his dagger and kicks the blond assassin in the stomach. Roxas is sent skipping back, but he's on his feet before he even finishes rolling. Clayton sets his mace aflame, turns it once, and then swings. Fire explodes as if from the mouth of a dragon. The fire swarms over Roxas' cloak, setting it aflame.
Roxas wastes no time, jumping backwards and slicing off his cloak where it attaches to the clasps atop his shoulders.
As Clayton plows for him, Roxas takes two long strides before leaping up and kneeing Clayton in the jaw, then kicking him in the neck. He's sent twirling in the air and crashing into a wooden crate of a wheelbarrow.
Roxas this time charges forward in a sprint as Clayton groans and struggles to his feet. The blond assassin crosses his arms and hurls forward. He feels the air leave Clayton's stomach as his arms hit his sternum. The force jerks the wheelbarrow forward and down a slight incline of the road. As it gains momentum, Roxas punches Clayton left and right before pushing off his feet, leaping into the air as the wheelbarrow crashes into an open-ended carriage of cabbage and potatoes.
Drawing two slender-bladed daggers, Roxas spins and dives down like a bird of prey. He spins downwards, but only slices at a sack of spuds. Then Clayton's foot swipes like a snake, knocking out Roxas' feet. Roxas doesn't even his the ground before Clayton's knee rams into his stomach and then he locks his hands together and whacks them at Roxas' face like his mace. Pain crackles along his cheek, shattering his thoughts, and black dots fill his vision. Warmth dribbles down his chin and Roxas knows his nose is bleeding. His back aches and throbs and the urge to vocalize the pain grows more.
He rolls along the stone, sliding to a stop at the base of a street oil lamp; citizens taking attention. Roxas summersaults backwards as Clayton comes running now with a dagger in each hand. Roxas stands and steps out of the way, the two of them dance down the street. As Clayton's hands go to stab for his face, large hands grab both of his wrists and swings him to the ground.
Looking up, Roxas finds Maleek. Some of the town's people gasp and scream, quickly evacuating the area. Hopefully they'll think members of The Thirteen came to help him. Despite the dent it would put in Roxas' reputation, he doesn't do anything to stop him.
"Glad you came." Roxas says, his voice hoarse.
"Not like it'd let oyu have all the fun."
Wrenching the two daggers away Maleek slices off two of the armored belts on Clayton's and as he goes to stab the man in the chest, Clayton grabs his wrist and spins swinging Maleek into the lamppost, denting its shaft. Whacking him to the ground, Clayton's raises his foot and goes to stomp in Maleek's face.
But then Clayton is tackled from the side by Vincent. They tumble down the street and Vincent pins Clayton beneath him. He punches Clayton left and right, and then grabs him by the shirt, lifting him like nothing more than a twig. Vincent snarls as he brings his legs up kicking Clayton farther down the street. Laguna helps Roxas to his feet.
"You just love causing mischief, don't you?" Laguna grins at him.
"It's one of my better qualities." Roxas replies.
Clayton crashes into a flower stand and they sprinkle all around and on him. He growls as he staggers to one knee. Roxas finds the flaming mace on the ground and quickly sprints, gripping it and raising it above his head. He manages to make it to Clayton before he pushes to his feet, and Roxas swings it once, twice . . . as he goes for the third swing, Clayton's arm whips out and whacks at Roxas, sending him back and crashing into the wooden post of a clothing store.
Roxas stifles a cry of pain and opens his eyes to find Clayton there again and the next thing he feels is his back crashing through the wooden post and sailing through the air and plunging into the fountain located in the main Square. Throwing his head back, gasping for breath, Roxas can see the water stained with red from the blood seeping into his mask.
Taking the risk, Roxas rips away the cowl and hood and jumps, pushing it against Clayton's face as he goes for another close attack. Roxas swings himself over the man with the cowl and hood, swinging him over and into the cobblestone. Even as Clayton quickly gets to his feet, Roxas delivers an uppercut to his face before spinning and kicking him in the chest.
Clayton draws the slenderest dagger from his belt and goes to deliver the deathblow, but out of nowhere, Edge grabs his wrist and pushes him away. Punching him left and right, the silver-haired assassin dodges Clayton's swipe of his dagger and goes and elbows the man. Edge then spins and swings his leg into Clayton's head, taking the man's arm as he falls and whirling him up through the air and into the upper level of an abandoned warehouse.
Roxas looks to Edge. "Thanks." He breathes. The Elven warrior merely winks.
Roxas advances towards the location where Clayton crashed as Maleek, Vincent and Laguna comes walking in.
He huffs his breath as he carefully treks towards the building. He makes it through the threshold and finds it vacant; small glints of moonlight leak in through the crevices of the wooden building and its limited windows. The place was already slated for demolition. Holes in the ceiling, the walls were weak; not even the floor was stable enough to withstand weight no bigger than a hundred pounds.
To be honest, he hopes the man fled. His body is sore, his head positively aches, and at any moment Roxas fears he will pass out from exhaustion. He is afraid to even lean left and right in fear of snapping his spine. With his mask and cowl gone, he needs to try and keep the battle within the shadows. Most of the citizens had fled the scene once they knew of the dark battle taking place, but he can't rule out a few stragglers who possibly stayed to watch.
Just as Roxas looks up and notices a hold in the ceiling, a dark figure comes crashing down and Roxas rolls out of the way, but into a table of shoes on display.
He turns to face Clayton and watches the man freeze. "You . . . You're . . . What sort of trickery is this?"
Roxas draws his sword and raises it. "Roxas Skyes, at your service."
Clayton is still staring at him, his face pale with rage. "How dare you deceive me?"
The blonde assassin sketches a bow. "I did no such thing. You heard the rumors. You knew I was handsome."
As Clayton barrels towards him, spinning dainty daggers with dizzying speed, Roxas lifts swings the table only to hear it get sliced in half. Clayton not even stumbling. Roxas brings forward Oblivion and feels the air ridding impact of their collision and he's once again pinned to a wall.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty." Roxas grunts.
Clayton snarls, and as he lifts his one arm to deliver a deathblow, Roxas snaps out his hand to grab a long heeled shoe over his left shoulder. He then jabs it into Clayton's eye and the man screams and bolts back, snapping the heel from the shoe itself.
Roxas pushes off of him and whacks Clayton with his mace he took, and in a smooth motion, he sheaths the weapon, draws his bow and aims an explosive bolt straight at Clayton's chest. The bolt consisting of a combustive compound made by the castle's alchemist.
Releasing the string, the arrow launches and lands true at Clayton, exploding on impact and sending the assassin crashing into another stack of wooden storage crates. Roxas runs forward and beats Clayton left and right with the bow itself and sending him crashing through one of few windows of the building.
They both fall from the second floor and Roxas lands on his feet atop of Clayton, intending him further into the gold and white carriage that awaited them below.
Clayton's eyes struggle to open, and Roxas feels irk as he sees the assassin smirk. "Not bad, you certainly hold up to your title."
"Excuse me if I'm not appreciative of your compliment." Roxas snarls. He then breaks the steel mace alone his knee, then draws a dagger from his belt, spinning it between his fingers and raises it high. "Any last words before I dump your remains into the sewers?"
"Just why?" Clayton snarls. "Why did you target me, what did I ever do? I could've payed you double easily to let me live."
"I didn't want money, I just wanted information."
"I would've told you willingly."
"No you wouldn't have."
"You don't think I noticed? I saw the members of the Thirteen. You're working for them! They must've sprung you from the mines for your help. Ha! They must be growing desperate. What do you have that they could want? Why not just hire some other well-known assassin?"
Roxas coldly smiles and leans his face in close enough to the man to kiss him. The assassin then shifts into his Elven form. His ears grow and point, his teeth sharpening. The tips poke under his lip. Clayton grows pale. Paler than death.
Roxas' lips peel back into a ravenous smile; animalistic, wild. His eyes grow wide, his pupils thinning into slits. "I'm special." He whispers.
Faster than Clayton can react, Roxas jabs his dagger down into his chest. The man shudders, and Roxas watches his eyes grow distant as he twists the dagger before yanking it out.
He watches the man slump into the dented roof of the carriage.
Checking his perimeter, he finds no onlookers who witnessed the showdown. He doesn't have time to chop up the body into bits, but enough to loot it for extra weapons – including that flaming mace. Jumping down from the carriage, she shifts back as a mortal as rushing footsteps come toward him. Maleek, Edge, Vincent, and Laguna are running towards him.
One look at Roxas' bloodied clothes is all they need before they disappear into the shadows together.
Roxas had enough sense to snatch a cloak off a drunk dozing on a corner and wipe the blood from his face, even though it takes several tries to keep his hands steady as he ran. Once the cloak conceals his ruined clothes, he and the members of the Thirteen make for the main gates of the castle grounds – where the guards recognized them, though the lights are too dim for them to look closely.
Roxas' head throbs and his bloodied lip hurts like a bitch. He just has to get inside, get to safety . . .
But he stumbles on the straight road into the castle courtyard, and his run turns into a staggering walk before he even gets to the castle itself. Maleek's familiar, muscular arm is already there, holding him up.
They can't go in the front like this, not unless they wants everyone to see.
Maleek seems to understand this and Roxas hears him say: "You three go through the front."
All Roxas hears in response is the whispering of clothes.
The pain throbs with every step he takes as he and Maleek disappear under a shadowy alcove heading for the servants back entrance through the courtyard. Not the best place, but good enough. Hopefully the castle was smart enough to have mystical healers.
One foot in front of the other. Just a little further . . .
He doesn't remember getting to the servant's doors, only the coolness of the metal studs as he pushes them open. The light of the hall burns his eyes, but at least he's inside.
The door to the mess hall is open, and the sounds of laughter and clinking mugs float towards him. At least his body still has feeling.
One hand braced against the wall, the other holding his cloak tightly around him, Roxas and Maleek slip past the mess hall, every breath lasting a lifetime. No one stops them, no one even looks at them.
There is one door down this hall that he has to reach – one room where they'd be safe. He keeps his hand on the stone wall, counting the doors as he passes. His cloak catches on the handle of a door as he passes by and rips it away.
But they make it to that door, to the room where they'd be safe. Roxas' hand slips on the grain of wood as he pushes against the door, and resorts to using his shoulder. Maleek shoves the door open, Roxas nearly fumbling to the ground from the pounding in his head and the pain that sears through his joints. He hears the gasp of a woman and the clattering of a mortar and pestals before hurried footsteps approach them.
Gently, hands brace him up and Roxas lifts his head to find sapphire-blue eyes wide and gaping at him. "Roxas." Maleek whispers.
"It's not as bad as it looks." Roxas breathes.
Unfortunately, his knees buckle but Maleek braces him sturdily and helps him stumble over to a chair. Sitting down, relief floods his joints, only his stomach feels like it is still moving. Roxas suddenly wants to remain standing so his stomach can feel like it is slowing down.
The healer is already working, not even needing Maleek to order her to. Before he can give her a fair warning, Roxas hunches over and begins to convulse from his spinning head. Maleek uses his foot to push a trash can in front of Roxas as he heaves. His body is coated with sweat and reeks of blood.
Once Roxas is sure he is done and his stomach is empty, he wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. The healer woman doesn't say anything, and Roxas doesn't feel any fear as she takes out a large hunting knife and rips open his shirt right there. Her face is a professional mask as she yanks the fabric down to his waist, revealing the severe bruising spreading across his back.
After Roxas hears her sigh, she walks over to her worktable and pours some kind of liquid onto a rag and hands it to Roxas. "Smell it. Slowly. Take deep breathes. It will help with the headache and stomach."
The assassin takes the rag and hovers it under his nose and does as ordered. Almost immediately, the nausea eases and his headache dulls. He keeps his breathing steady as the healer removes his belt of weapons and twists open a small wooden pot revealing a pale green ointment and the smell of medicine permeates his nose. He can feel Maleek's presence behind him, a hand on his shoulder.
"It might sting a little." She tells.
Roxas merely shakes his head and then he feels her fingertips rubbing along his back. The ointment is cool for one second before heating up, but Roxas hisses only because of the pressure her fingertips have as she glides over the bruises of his back. Then it starts to cool again and Roxas can't stop the sigh of relief that escapes his lips. There's still his bloodied nose and bruises on his face, but his back is most likely her main priority.
As she moves to examine his face, Roxas tries not to look her in the eye, not that she would care either way. She doesn't ask questions, and Roxas is glad. His upper torso is now bare, his shoes taken off and tossed to the side, and now all he wears is the pair of bloodstained trousers. As the healer moves to his front, she takes his chin and slowly begins to smear the ointment around his face with her fingertips.
She's a pretty young thing. Apart from her golden-brown eyes, she has a long black braid over her right shoulder and smooth, tan skin. While her cheeks are slightly pink, she keeps her face serious and expressionless. No doubt built up over the years with her job and experience.
"I'm surprised nothing is broken." She comments as she wipes her hands on her apron. She turns back to the table and starts to grind something.
"You and me both. But is there anything serious?"
"Not form what I can tell, surprisingly. Must've been some grudge match though." She says, patting whatever it is she's grinding in the mortar.
"How long will it take to heal?" Maleek asks.
"The bruises will have to heal on their own, Captain. And a few of the cuts will be gone within four days if you apply the tonic I'm giving you three times a day."
"Alright."
As the healer goes back over to the table, Maleek's hand shifts slightly and out of his peripherals, Roxas can see him crouch; staring at him. Turning his head slowly, Roxas meets those eyes. "Are you alright?" Maleek asks.
"Yeah," Roxas nods. "I think so." He gives a quite thank you as the healer brings him some water. He tips it to his lips. It's laced with lemon, making it takes both sour and sweet.
The sound of a chair squealing hurts his ears, and Roxas cringes. Maleek takes a seat next to him. "This probably isn't the best time to ask, but, did he say anything? About the bodies?"
Roxas shakes his head as the healer takes back the now emptied glass of water. He speaks in a hushed tone. He believes the healer won't say anything, but he doesn't want to take the risk. Roxas leans close to Maleek, their lips nearly brushing.
"No. they didn't know anything. And now that I think of it, they don't have anything to gain. They would have if the creature was just killing for sport. But it's absorbing their powers. How can bandits benefit from life essence?"
"So you think it's working alone?" It takes Roxas a moment to process the question, as Maleek's lips brush his bottom one, sending a fire-hot current through his body. Even the briefest of touch and Roxas can feel how soft they are; his breath smelling of ale he must've drank from the tavern.
"Probably." Roxas mumbles. The healer approaches with a small flask and orders Roxas to drink it. Tipping the lip to his mouth, he gulps it down, nearly heaving it back up when the taste mimics that of piss and sour berry juice. But he swallows it down, making a funny sound of disgust that makes Maleek chuckle.
"Medicine." The healer says with a smile. "It'll help with the pain."
Roxas merely mimics the sound and shakes his head. Maleek rises from his chair as the healer hands him a small circular tin pot the size of his palm. They exchange hushed words, smiles and thank-you's. Maleek then looks to Roxas. "Do you think you can stand?"
"I think so. I just feel exhausted now that I've sat down."
"Well don't think I'm going to haul you up to your quarters on my back." Maleek chuckles.
Roxas manages to push himself up and after a couple teetering steps, he and Maleek link elbows and Maleek leads them out of the healer's room. Roxas' throat tightens slightly when they pass the familiar hallway towards Kiros' chamber. Roxas can nearly see Kiros in his room, either reading a book or sitting at his desk, still angry with Roxas.
He and Maleek don't speak as they make the trek to Roxas' room. The guards are still posted out front, straightening as Maleek approaches. They knew of Roxas' mission today, so Roxas doesn't bother to try to look drunk or dazed.
Once he steps through the threshold, Maleek releases him, but not before placing a kiss on Roxas' forehead. Roxas was too exhausted to stop him. In fact, he liked it. Even if it was brief, the warmth, the softness – in numbed his mind like a drug.
And when it goes away, Roxas is left feeling hollow, empty. Lifeless, almost.
When Roxas is safely back in his rooms, changed in a silk nightshirt, he watches the leaves drift from the hills beyond the Royal City. They sweep towards him, harbingers of the storm that is to come. The full moon, trapped beneath a wall of pewter, stains the clouds a ghostly grey, making the sky unusually bright. It feels surreal, as if the horizon has disappeared beyond the hills. He is stranded in a world of marble.
Roxas leaves the balcony, but stops when he sets his hand on the handle of the door. Axel's gold band has been on his finer long enough to leave a tan line, showing the difference between his pale skin, and his now tanning skin from his past days spent outside.
His shoulder and lower back throb heavily. His jaw is deeply brushing and he has a small limp on his left foot.
He had often wished for adventure, for old spells and wicked kings. But he didn't realize it would be like this – a fight for his freedom. And he'd always imagined that there'd be someone to help him – a loyal forest friend or a one-armed soldier or something. He hadn't imagined he would be so . . . alone.
For the first time in a long while, Roxas wishes Vanitas was here with him. Even if admitting it leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth and heavies his heart like it turned to stone.
Vanitas had always known what to do, always had Roxas' back, whether Roxas wanted him to or not. Roxas didn't think he could look past what Vanitas had done to him a year ago now; he still hasn't forgiven him, and Roxas doesn't think he ever will.
But now . . . right now, just for this one moment, he would give anything – anything in the world – to have Vanitas still with him.
His eyes burn, and Roxas puts a hand to his heart. There his fingers wrap around the small sack he had been given to by his father, the small string pouch that holds dirt from Ventus' grave. He feels the pouch warm beneath his fingers – comforting, somehow. He takes a step through the doors, and shuts them quietly behind him.
As he walks towards the left side of the chamber towards his personal library. Inside, he inhales the smell of dried leather and parchment. There's still a fire quietly brewing in the fireplace, and Roxas wanders towards the back where tower is and stops before a tapestry pinned to the wall . . . and its depiction.
His heart triples in speed.
It depicts Queen Lilian. The beautiful Elven Queen who had blazed into battle to rid Roxas' body of poison, and who had given Roxas the legendary blades of Oblivion and Oathkeeper. Both blades are currently sheathed in the custom made scabbards Maleek had given to him, and hanging on the weapon's rack by Roxas' bed.
Roxas takes a step towards the tapestry to better study the entire scope of it.
In the center stands a stag, magnificent and virile, gazing sideways at Lilian. The symbol of the royal house of Valendia, of the kingdom that Malakai, Lilian's father, had founded. A reminder that though Lilian had become Queen of Twilight Town, she still belonged to Valendia. Like Roxas no matter where he went, no matter how far, Twilight Town would always be a part of him.
Roxas listens to the wind howl. With a sigh, he shakes his head and turns way.