June 25th 1993, 10:30pm
Another silent night was fast approaching as Francesca was preparing for another expected-to-be-a-mundane-night-shift. She stared out of her window from her spacious but warm residence, staring into the distant mountain range overlooking Fortuna. She could just about optically distinguish the castle – a guardian of the city and its inhabitants housing all of their notions. She let out a sigh and observed the vapour on the window, already shrinking in size from the size of an apple to a pea, and then nothing. A minuscule smirk imprinted itself on her full lips, as she recollected her childhood habits of breathing on windows and lettering messages to her friends residing opposite. Whilst warmth entered her chest from the recollections, she began to feel a melancholy nostalgia – the simplicity of childhood is a continuous crave she would never get back whilst simultaneously, she was relieved she has escaped from the constant brutalities it held.
The silence of her dormitory was interrupted by the crackling of the fire in her fireplace, followed by a tender chirp from a Robin Red Breast bird as it landed for a quick rest on Francesca's window sill. After an expeditious glance at the clock hanging from a cream-coloured wall opposite the window of the living room to retain her focus, Francesca pushed herself from the window, sighed again, and picked up her beige motorbike helmet and gloves from the sofa arm rest that stood in the corner of the room. Her holster for her sword was already fastened at her left hip; she preferred to prepare in advance. All dressed in her matching colour motorbike suit, she picks up her svelte rapier sword that was laid meticulously on the fireplace's mantle and slid it effortlessly into her holster. The sword was long, slender and elegantly designed. The handle was a concave deep blue tipped with a quartz sphere for contrast. The blade guard was even more intricate – spirals of dragon tails and feathers delicately circling the handle and a diminutive floral embellishing travelling its way down the unusually thick blade. Whilst the men have motor-powered blades precisely crafted by the mysterious Agnus, the women were given lighter but faster blades. She gave the sword an expeditious check and nodded subtly, approving its condition. The sword's holster was much plainer – a charcoal-coloured shell intended to draw minimum attention to it. Whilst Fortuna's residence is habituated to soldiers patrolling, she was cautious of her 'unique' abilities that established her reputation and recent promotion as the gatekeeper of the archive assets located in the city's underground depths.
Francesca ambled hurriedly to her marbled bathroom, still steaming from her before-work shower. She never thought of herself as what people these days deem 'attractive', nor did she honestly care. She was a woman of tall stature, with shoulders that are narrow and hips curvy, exhibiting her hourglass figure despite many attempts of hiding it due to modesty habits and work habits. Today, she decided to go for a practical approach consisting of a burgundy halter turtleneck tank top and ebony leather trousers and matching dark red knee-high boots with a dyad of buckles on each boot. She wore a necklace with a crescent moon pendant for some style over her top. Her face was heart-shaped with a minuscule chin, coupled with deep blue and minute almond-shaped eyes, emphasised only by her dark eye shadow and long double-layered lashes. Francesca's lips were full, coupled with a distinctive cupid's bow. Her shoulder-length fringed hair was a conspicuous pale blonde. To Francesca, she was average at best - appropriate for her goal of living a low-profile lifestyle.
Francesca has aimed for staying as low-profile as possible throughout her life. Before her days as a decorated Order of the Sword soldier, she lived a quiet life as a library archive specialist. Similar job to her current one, minus the weapons, endless demons and less reading. However, after stumbling upon a forbidden text merely by accident describing the brutal history of the once legendary demon gatekeepers who preserved accord between humans and devils, fell. That was also when her dreams turned into nightmares. Literally. And such nightmares quickly became reality, whilst giving her unusual strength and skills she never learned. Her increased involvement with demonic activities resulted in her recruitment within the Order, rapidly increasing her ranks in exchange for her still being given access to the archives in the hopes of finding more about the nightmares. Before Fortuna, Francesca traversed through varied lands and societies for the past decade, before settling in the city thanks to its isolation. Fortuna has given her a serenity she only dreamt of. Whilst demons are a prevalent inconvenience, they are also the reason she is able to pay the bills and have bread on the table.
In her hallway, Francesca put on her white Fortuna soldier jacket with the red emblem for The Order on her right sleeve on top of her motorbike suit. The cool and moist autumn air filled her nostrils and made her eyes teary as she jogged to her treasured BMW R60/5 that took her almost five years to transport to Fortuna. Turning her head for a final goodbye-for-the-night glance at her dormitory on a quiet street, Francesca revved the bike engine and took off, leaving behind a trail of brake smoke.
The trip was rapid, given that there are little to no cars on Fortuna's narrow roads at 11:00pm. Francesca turned off the engine as she approached her customary parking space, letting the bike come to a steady stop in silence. The place she was to watch every night is vital to the Fortuna superiors. Indeed, the so-called 'archive' held more than just documents. As Francesca took off her helmet and gloves, she took a deep breath, taking in the cool air and doing an expeditious look around to ensure she was solitary, before heading down into the basement where the treasures were located. Francesca reached into her side pocket and took out a minuscule silver key for the first door leading to the archive tunnel and inserted it into the old, parasite-eaten wooden door. Gradually, the pitch black darkness took her over. She cautiously takes out her small torch from her breast pocket of her jacket before she is able to reach the lights once inside the main hall. With a sigh after the five seconds of tension, came a noise only her ears could pick up.
Footsteps. Slow but evidently long strides. Most likely male.
'Demons…', the white-clad sentinel understood. Before taking another step, Francesca took hold of her sword with her right hand whilst starting to approach the footsteps slowly.
'Guess this won't be my typical night shift in Fortuna'