The streets of San Matheus were silent, the street lights dim and the air cool. The serenity of the night was disturbed, when a lone soldier appeared from a nearby alley, sprinting with all the speed he could muster. He ran with a sense of urgency, his breaths labored and heavy, cutting through the tranquil night. Each thunderous footfall reverberated like a desperate heartbeat against the cobblestone, creating a frenzied staccato that shattered the serene ambiance. The greatsword on his back was clanging loudly against his armor, but it didn't slow him down. He had no time to waste.
He didn't stop until he reached the tavern, slamming open the door. All eyes turned toward the intruder, their merriment silenced by the abrupt disturbance. His determined footsteps resonated through the establishment as he forged a path through the crowded room, unceremoniously shoving patrons aside without a moment's hesitation. The drunken denizens, stirred from their revelry, raised their voices in protest, hurling obscenities in his direction. Yet, the soldier remained impervious to their insults, his focus unwavering. He pressed on, his destination clear in his mind.
Navigating through the boisterous tavern, he reached the backroom, the hubbub fading as he ascended the creaking stairs leading to the cellar below. This hidden realm held the true allure of the establishment— The Coin Arena, where clashes of various kinds unfolded on an almost nightly basis. He himself had taken part in a few, but tonight he was here on a different mission.
As he got down the stairs, the noise became louder, making it clear that there was currently a match taking place. He could hear the shouting and hollering, the stomping of feet, and the clash of steel. The crowd was going wild, and the smell of blood and sweat was strong. He pushed past the other patrons until he finally reached the railing, looking down.
The arena had been carved into the earth and was shaped like a hexagon, the walls reinforced with stone and the floor lined with sand. The crowd was surrounding it, their shouts echoing through the underground chamber, the torches on the walls casting a flickering light on the combatants.
In the middle was the main attraction; A huge, muscular man clad in heavy armor. A helmet obscured his face, and in his hand was a sword as long as his arm, with a blade made of polished steel. The soldier's gaze, however, didn't linger on the formidable combatant in the center.
"That fucking idiot..!" He snarled under his breath as his gray eyes fixated onto the other person in the ring; A tall young woman, a stark contrast to the hulking spectacle of the armored behemoth. Dressed in a sleek black duster coat and matching pants, her long ashen hair braided neatly beneath the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat, she exuded an air of quiet confidence. The lower half of her face was hidden beneath a dark gray bandana, but her blue eyes were sharp and focused, and she held her head high, her stance poised and her movements smooth. She was wielding a rapier, which seemed small and frail compared to her opponent's weapon.
The soldier's frustration deepened, his jaw clenching as he observed the seemingly uneven match unfolding below. Despite the apparent disadvantage, the woman moved with a calculated elegance, her every action deliberate and purposeful. The arena may have roared with excitement for the brute force on display, but the soldier's attention was undivided, locked onto the resilient figure clad in black.
The charged atmosphere in the underground arena crackled with tension as the behemoth of a man lunged forward with a primal roar, the sheer force behind his swing evident in the wide arc of his blade. In response, the woman in black acted with swift and calculated precision, raising her rapier to intercept the oncoming assault. The clash of their blades echoed through the underground chamber, sparks dancing in the air like fleeting fireflies.
The armored giant pressed forward relentlessly and began a series of attacks. His swings were powerful, but slow, and left openings for his nimble adversary. The woman in black seamlessly evaded, dodged, and deflected each strike with a grace that bordered on dance. Her own counterattacks were a symphony of precision, the rapier darting in and out with rapid, calculated strikes that found their mark against the unyielding armor.
Though her blows left only minor marks on the formidable armor, the audience was captivated by the stark contrast in styles. The room was filled with the clang of metal meeting metal, the rapid footwork of the woman, and the grunts of the armored warrior.
A moment of lethal finesse unfolded as the armored giant swung his massive sword, aiming for the woman in black. With uncanny agility, she gracefully ducked beneath the arcing blade, evading the impending strike. In a swift and calculated response, she thrusted her own sword upwards— The blade slipped through the gap between the neck and shoulder, stabbing deep into the armpit, and she twisted the blade as she pulled it free. The man grunted in pain, but the wound was too shallow to deal a fatal blow.
He took a step back and looked at his injury, then growled in anger. He lifted his arm again, this time higher than before. This time, however, the impending strike was not directed at his nimble adversary. Instead, the colossal blade descended toward the arena floor with unrestrained force, cleaving through the earth in a thunderous impact that sent a cloud of dust billowing into the air.
The arena trembled as the giant's sword collided with the earth, creating a momentary veil of dust that shrouded the battleground. Through the haze, the woman in black maintained her focus, diving out in the open from the veil of dust. The dust soon settled, and the woman saw that the behemoth had discarded his helmet, revealing his face. He was a bald, older man with a scarred face.
His features contorted with rage as he bellowed in her direction, his voice echoing through the underground chamber. "I'll tear you apart, woman!" He bellowed. His eyes blazed with fury, and he charged toward the woman in black, his massive sword gripped tightly in his hands. He raised the weapon high and swung with unrestrained savagery, the blade coming down upon his agile foe with all his might.
The woman responded by sidestepping the blow, the blade missing her by a hairsbreadth. In the blink of an eye, she spun around and slashed at his exposed back, her blade gliding across the surface of his armor. The attack did not seem to do any real damage, but the momentum of the turn caused the tip of the rapier to slice through his skin, a thin line of red appearing on his exposed flesh.
The armored giant roared in pain and swung his blade wildly, the ferocity of his attacks only intensifying. Yet, his movements were growing more erratic and clumsy, his swings less controlled.
"Oh, come on, I barely touched you," The woman taunted him, her tone playful. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to defeat me."
"Shut up, bitch!" The man roared in anger. He swung his blade once more, a desperate attempt to silence her mockery. However, the woman deflected it effortlessly, her rapier weaving through the gaps between his clenched knuckles. He screamed in agony and dropped his weapon, and she took the opportunity to drive her blade into his shoulder, causing him to stagger backwards.
"You shouldn't have insulted me," She chided as she kicked the man in the chest, knocking him to the ground. "But maybe next time-"
"You cunt!" The man roared, and he jumped to his feet, and rushed at her, throwing a punch. She dodged and stabbed him in the side, causing him to stagger. He growled and grabbed the blade, swinging his arm wildly. She struggled to hold on to her sword, but eventually, the blade slipped from her grasp, and she was sent tumbling backwards, her head hitting the wall.
"Fuck!" She cursed as she fell onto the ground, clutching her throbbing head. When her eyes refocused, a chilling realization struck her when she found herself staring up into a barrel of a gun. "What the hell..?! No firearms, that was the deal-" She protested, but her words faltered in the face of the unexpected threat.
"It seems life isn't always fair, little missy!" Her challenger hissed, his resentment palpable— He had gone into the ring thinking he'd be up for the easiest paycheck in a long while, but instead got his ass handed to him… by some upper class brat, none of the less. The fact that she was a noble, a member of the privileged and spoiled elite, made him angrier. "And neither is death."
The weight of impending doom hung in the air as his finger tightened around the trigger. But before the gunshot could shatter the tense atmosphere, a sudden force lifted him from his feet, slamming him painfully onto the unforgiving ground. The impact robbed him of breath, the world momentarily spinning as his body rebelled against the sudden, brutal descent.
On the ground, he found himself immobilized, as if his limbs were shackled by invisible chains. Panic clawed at him as he struggled against the unyielding force that rendered him helpless. Only when glancing up at his opponent, he realized what was going on.
"You little bitch..! Magic..?!" He sputtered, his voice tainted with disdain. Despite his efforts, his limbs remained unresponsive, the realization sinking in that he was ensnared by forces beyond his comprehension.
"What? Not fair?" The woman shot him an unimpressed glare, rising gracefully from the ground and dusting herself off. "That's a bit hypocritical coming from a guy who pulled out a pistol in the middle of a sword fight."
"You won't get away with this..! Guys! Get her!" The man bellowed, rallying his friends to his defense.
"Oh, you have to be kidding me..." The woman muttered under her breath, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief etching her features. Her gaze followed the descent of her opponent's comrades into the arena. Clad in similar outfits and armed with swords, they lacked the armor that had proven ineffective against her tactics. The situation had spiraled out of control, yet the crowd reveled in the chaos, their cheers and laughter reverberating through the arena like a cacophony of approval.
"Lady Sybil!"
A familiar voice pierced through the tumult, drawing her attention. A rush of recognition swept over her as she identified the coin guard cuirass and the distinctive greatsword— It was her bodyguard, and she could already guess why he was here.
"What's wrong, Kurt? You seem pissed." She said with a mischievous smile.
"What is wrong?!" Kurt's voice cracked, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "How many times have I told you not to come in here?!"
"Oh, come on, I had it under control." Sybil dismissed, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders.
"Oh yes, of course. That's why you're being ambushed right now." Kurt retorted, his eyes rolling in exasperation.
"Okay, but technically, I did win. I was just going to give him a lecture on manners and all that, but then he decided to go for a cheap shot."
"That's no excuse!" Kurt snapped, drawing his blade as he stepped between her and her opponents. "You could've gotten hurt."
"You worry too much." Sybil shook her head, patting Kurt's shoulder with a casual air. "Let's take care of this."
"As you wish, m'lady." Kurt replied, a mixture of irritation and loyalty in his gaze. The duo stood together, ready to face the approaching adversaries.
Kurt charged forward, his blade clashing with the aggression of his opponents. The metallic symphony reverberated through the chaotic arena as he skillfully maneuvered, forcing his opponent's blade away, and then struck. The tip of his sword slashed across the man's chest, and the man stumbled back, clutching the wound.
With relentless momentum, another adversary swung his blade at Kurt, only to meet a firm block. Seizing the advantage, Kurt's sword descended with a punishing force, connecting with the man's wrist. A sharp yelp echoed as the weapon slipped from the injured hand, clattering to the ground. In a fluid motion, Kurt spun around, delivering a powerful kick to the chest of the disarmed opponent, sending him sprawling on the ground.
He then turned his attention to his last opponent, who had picked up a sword and was now advancing towards him. Yet, before the opponent could execute his assault, Sybil intervened; With a flick of her wrist, she sent her opponent flying through the air and crashing into the wall. The force of the impact knocked him out cold, his body sprawled and defeated.
Now when the once-ambitious ambushers lay defeated on the arena floor, Sybil turned her attention back to the behemoth of a man on the ground.
"Now, now, no need to be a sore loser," She tutted, wagging her finger as if chastising a naughty child. "I won, and that's all that matters. If you're going to get angry, at least have the decency to do it on your own time, instead of trying to murder someone in front of witnesses."
"You're insane... You'll both pay for this..!" The man hissed, spitting blood onto the sand.
"Sure, sure, whatever. Now, what were we talking about? Oh right, money." Sybil nodded, smiling. "You'll get your reward, don't worry. It's just a shame that you weren't able to earn it properly. You were pretty good, but a little too predictable. You really should learn to keep your emotions in check. Next time, you should try not to show off your tells."
"Fuck you..!"
"Alright, well, this has been fun, but I think I've had enough." Sybil shook her head and gracefully walked away, gesturing for Kurt to follow. "Let's get out of here." The noblewoman's confident stride carried an air of indifference as she left the chaos behind, leaving the disgruntled man sputtering in impotent rage amidst the fallen.
As she made her way through the crowd, she couldn't help but notice the looks she was getting from the patrons. Some were angry, some were impressed, and some were even jealous. But one thing was clear; They were all intimidated. And it felt good. She smiled under her bandana, feeling satisfied. This had been a good night.
Her good mood didn't last, however; Her bodyguard was seething with anger when they stepped out to the dimly lit alleyway.
"We are not done yet, Lady Sybil." Kurt grumbled, grabbing the woman's shoulder and turning her around to face him.
"What? Of course we are. What's wrong with you?" Sybil scoffed, trying to shake off his grasp, but the bodyguard was having none of it.
"You're a fucking idiot, you know that? Coming here is dangerous! Why the fuck you insist on participating in this shit is beyond me!" Kurt's frustration spilled into his words.
"Hey, it's not that bad! I was fine!" Sybil rolled her eyes. "Besides, it's none of your business how I spend my time."
"None of my business?!" Kurt echoed, incredulity etched across his face. "And when you show up home with a black eye, who do you think they're going to blame, huh?!"
"Oh please, like they care," Sybil said with a dismissive wave. "I bet my father wouldn't even notice if I had my whole face smashed in. He's always too busy with his work and his drinking."
"You are a lady, m'lady, and I have the obligation to protect you." Kurt's tone was stern. "If you keep doing this, you'll end up seriously hurt, and then your father will have my head!"
"Oh, please, stop worrying. I can take care of myself," Sybil said, pushing the man's hand off her shoulder. "And if I end up getting seriously hurt, then you can always find a new employer, can't you?"
"Oh for the love of-" Kurt rubbed his temple in frustration. "Just... let's just get you back home. You have lessons tomorrow morning."
"Whatever," Sybil shrugged her shoulders, then started to walk down the street.
"You'll be the death of me, I swear..." Kurt muttered under his breath, trailing after her with a mix of frustration and concern. She was a constant source of aggravation, and he grew weary of attempting to rein in her reckless tendencies.
When Kurt had accepted this job, he envisioned it being an easy task— Keeping the young heiress of the house safe and away from trouble. He had been initially pleased to hear that the young lady had spent her youth in the finest military academies of the mainland, and that she was skilled with both sword and magic. Undoubtedly, Sybil was a skilled fighter, possessing a quick mind, keen eyes, and a combination of agility and flexibility. She was a strong and capable warrior, and she never backed down from a challenge. But, she was also stubborn and reckless, and her arrogance and pride made her cocky.
Ever since her father redirected her focus from training to schooling, Sybil had found herself bored. The discovery of underground fights had become her obsession, and night after night, she sneaked out to engage in battles, returning home victorious but adorned with bruises and cuts. The thrill of combat offered an escape from the monotony, but it also fueled the constant tension between the headstrong noblewoman and her devoted bodyguard.
"Are you coming?" Sybil's voice sliced through Kurt's contemplation, and Kurt realized she was already far ahead of him. Hastening his steps, he caught up, and together they continued their walk through the dimly lit streets, the streetlights casting wavering shadows in the cool night air.
The city slept, enveloped in an eerie stillness broken only by distant murmurs and the clinking of bottles as drunkards navigated the alleys. Above, the moon hung high, casting a silver glow upon the cobblestone streets. As they approached the main road, the city's pulse grew faint, the streets nearly deserted. Only the nocturnal sentinels, the patrolling guards, and the occasional beggar tucked into the shadows, remained as witnesses to the nightly escapade.
"You should have more respect for your body, m'lady," Kurt said after a moment of silence, glancing at Sybil who maintained a lead ahead of him. "You can't keep doing this, it's not good for you."
"Oh, please, you sound just like my father." Sybil rolled her eyes. "A year ago you were still eager to help me train, and now you're nagging at me."
"If I had any idea that it would mean you'd proceed to seeking fights in underground fighting rings, I would've thought twice before agreeing!" Kurt shot back, his voice rising. "And besides, your father pays me to watch over you, so I am obliged to say something."
"Tch! I was barely old enough to hold a sword when my father enlisted me into a military academy— He wanted me to become a strong, capable woman, but ever since my mother died, he-" Her words faltered, and she looked down, a moment of vulnerability breaking through. Then, she sighed, shaking her head. "Now he expects me to forget everything he ever taught me, and become one of those simple-minded porcelain dolls that spend their days powdering their noses at the court..!"
Caught between defiance and despair, Sybil's words lingered in the night air, revealing a conflict within her that Kurt couldn't fully comprehend. She was born into wealth and privilege, and her life was practically handed to her on a silver platter. And yet, she was always complaining about it. Uncertain, he remained silent, observing as Sybil kicked a stray stone. Her misery was palpable, and a flicker of sympathy touched him, despite the disparity between their worlds.
"I'm sorry," He finally spoke, his tone softening. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just worried, that's all." The apology hung in the air, a fragile bridge over the divide of their contrasting perspectives and experiences.
"It's fine. I'm not mad." Sybil waved her hand dismissively. "But let's just agree to disagree, alright?"
"Very well, m'lady," Kurt reluctantly nodded.
When they finally reached the manor, the guards opened the gate, and they stepped inside. The gardens were beautiful, full of trees and flowers, and the house itself was magnificent. It was three stories tall, with a grand entrance hall, a ballroom, a library, and several guest rooms. A fortified stone wall enveloped the estate, while a contingent of guards safeguarded its grounds.
As they arrived at the imposing main doors of the manor, Sybil came to a halt, deftly removing her hat. Seeing her clad in street-fighting rogue attire was a stark contrast to her usual noblewoman guise, and as the scarf came off from her face, Kurt's gaze lingered on her delicate features. Despite her rebellious streak and penchant for recklessness, she was still an elegant, attractive young woman. She was seemingly exhausted, her features soft as she let her ashen hair loose, and Kurt found himself staring at her for a moment longer than appropriate. His eyes trailed along the curve of her jaw, the shape of her lips, and the arch of her neck. The moonlight cast a halo over her, and he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty.
Then, Sybil glanced back at him, and he swiftly averted his gaze, suddenly aware that he had been caught staring.
"You should go get some rest, m'lady." He spoke quickly, masking his embarrassment with a respectful bow.
"Right," Sybil replied, tucking the hat and the scarf under her arm. "Thank you, Kurt. Goodnight."
When the door closed behind her, Kurt heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Annoyed by her antics or not, he couldn't deny that Sybil was one of the most captivating individuals he had ever encountered. He was growing too familiar with her, and his protective instincts were growing stronger by the day, the lines between professional and personal becoming increasingly blurred. He would have to tread carefully, and remember his place.
Turning away, Kurt headed towards his quarters, thoughts lingering on the enigmatic noblewoman.
"This woman will be the death of me..." He muttered under his breath.