"My lord, in the future, even if it's just for a stroll, please at least have Sir Farrel accompany you!" Aengus implored with an earnest expression.
Eitan shifted his gaze to the side where Lind stood, and his mouth twitched when he saw him nodding in agreement. "That's right! Saorise is undeniably a dangerous place. Lord Eitan should always have an escort."
I took care of myself in much more dangerous places for years, you know? Eitan wanted to retort, but kept his mouth shut. "I'll be more mindful in the future." He assented passively.
Aengus didn't appear entirely convinced and lowered his head. "Please do, my lord, your safety is always paramount."
"Yes, no matter what, his lordship must stay safe."
"I understand," he responded blankly. They nag like mother hens. I swear that Lind wasn't like this in the past. Has he spent too much time managing the children?
"So make sure-"
"I'll be sure to always have someone else with me." Eitan cut Aengus off with a light sigh. "I'm not a child, there is no need to nag so much."
At this, Aengus clamped his mouth shut, and he and Lind exchanged a strange glance. Taking advantage of the pause, Eitan decisively turned away and waved his hand back at them. "I'm going to train."
Yuriel scurried to his side and looked up at him sweetly. "Shall I send for Sir Farrel?"
Eitan's face twitched at her innocent question. "... Sure." He couldn't help but relent under her pure gaze.
Yuriel curtsied, and as Eitan watched her go, he saw her give Lind a proud smile, to which she received a thumbs-up. These guys… He shook his head with a helpless smile. He made his way to his training ground. He had just finished his warmups when Yuriel arrived with Farrel in tow.
Seeing the long sheath at Farrel's waist, Eitan's eyes brightened as an idea struck him. "Farrel."
"Yes, my liege," Farrel approached and bowed courteously, then stood poised before him.
"Spar with me." Eitan unsheathed his sword as his lips curled up. "Real weapons, no aura. No other rules."
Farrel blinked before taking a step back and brandishing his sword. "As you wish. Please forgive me for pointing my blade at you."
"Think nothing of it!" Eitan leaped at Farrel as the words left his lips.
Sparks flew as his strike was countered, and after a few clashes, both parties fell a step back. Eitan's eyes glinted, and he reached for the small sheath hidden at his waist. He then charged back at Farrel, sword directed at his neck, while the tip of his dagger aimed straight at the heart.
Farrel's eyes only widened ever so slightly, and he swung his sword before Eitan closed the distance. His longsword deflected the blow coming for his neck while he jumped back to avoid the dagger. Making use of the gap created, a dagger appeared in his left hand as well.
Shortsword clashed with longsword, and dagger clashed with dagger. Farrel's movements were sharp and refined; an appearance as noble as it was deadly. Eitan, on the other hand, moved far more ferociously. Blades acting as extensions of his arms, his keen eyes guided them to ruthlessly target Farrel's weak points.
Farrel suddenly swung his sword wide in an attempt to recreate some distance, an attempt to regain the edge with his superior range. However, to Eitan, this was… A chance! Eitan's pupils blazed at the movement. He forewent defense, relying on his small frame to slip inside the reach of the longsword. Meanwhile, his blade dove towards the knight's exposed abdomen.
The only sign of Farrel's surprise was a brief raise of his brow. His blade instantly changed paths to cut down, forcing Eitan to roll back out of the way. As he vaulted to his feet, the two men locked eyes. In a wordless agreement, they both readied themselves for what would be the final exchange.
Eitan moved first, deftly throwing his dagger at Farrel's chest. As Farrel deflected it with the flat side of his sword, Eitan unhesitantly charged in, his blade going directly for Farrel's throat.
Then, there was a cold sensation on Eitan's back as Farrel's dagger sliced towards him. Meanwhile, Farrel's sword went towards his shoulder. The world in his vision seemed to slow as he recalled the agonizing feeling of his arm being detached from his body. Instinctively, Eitan twisted out of the way of the sword. However, this motion caused the dagger to cut a line down his side. Despite the injury, his own sword continued on its path to press against the side of Farrel's neck.
The two withdrew, and Farrel quickly dropped to one knee, immediately keeping his dagger and stabbing his sword into the dusty ground. "I harmed you. Please punish me."
"It's fine. Injuries are expected once blades are drawn." Eitan put away his weapons and subconsciously touched his shoulder. He released a long exhale to settle his nerves. "It was a good match."
Farrel raised his head with a conflicted expression. His eyes flickered over Eitan, who was currently holding his shoulder instead of his injured side. An odd look flashed over his face before he stood up and gestured at Yuriel.
The tawny-haired girl rushed forward with a worried expression. "Towel," Farrel held his hand out and sternly commanded, "And get some bandages."
Yuriel quickly handed over the small, clean towel before rushing off. Farrel took it and looked at the specs of blood seeping through Eitan's shirt, "My liege, please allow me to see your wound."
Eitan lifted his dusty shirt and glanced at his side. The dagger had only made a shallow slice, so the real bleeding had already stopped. Farrel knelt beside Eitan and pressed on the wound, cleaning it gently. Eitan had already dismissed him, so he spoke no more of repentance, but he remained self-reproachful. Failing to control himself and drawing blood on his liege was a great offence.
"Farrel."
"Yes, my liege," Farrel responded, but kept his head down.
"What do you think of my skills?" Eitan inquired bluntly.
Farrel lifted his head with a brief show of surprise. However, he quickly collected himself and answered, "Honestly, I was amazed. I saw it before during the circle, but my liege's prowess is truly shocking." He complimented sincerely before hesitating briefly.
"Go on," Eitan prompted.
"... There is a unique desperation to your fighting style," Farrel added slowly.
Eitan chuckled a bit. "You mean I am reckless."
Farrel clenched his jaw and nodded slightly. Eitan looked up at the puffy white clouds drifting slowly in the sky. "I am aware. My style is focused entirely on bringing down the enemy," he tilted his head and smiled down at Farrel. "Even if I come to harm in the process." Like how even Duke Logress slicing off his arm wasn't enough to make Eitan withdraw. He simply gave his all to take down the foe in front of him.
Just then, Yuriel finally returned and swiftly handed off some bandages to Farrel. He finished taking care of Eitan's wound and only then looked up to meet Eitan's gaze. His golden eyes looked heavier than usual, and he quietly affirmed, "I shall endeavor to ensure there is never a need for the liege to move personally."
Eitan's gaze shone with appreciation, and he placed a hand on Farrel's shoulder. "You'll have to work hard then, my knight." He smiled playfully, but a flash of darkness passed over his face. For the enemies I must face aren't something I have the leisure to sit back for.
Farrel's breath caught in his throat, and he bowed his head deeply. "Of course."
Eitan lightly patted his shoulder before stepping back. He glanced down at the small but noticeable blood stains on the cloth, and as if on cue, Yuriel finally approached him and held out a clean shirt. "I fetched this along with the bandages."
Eitan smiled and received it gratefully. "You did well."
Yuriel's expression brightened at the compliment, and she bowed her head. "Thank you!"
Not caring that he was in the middle of the yard, Eitan smoothly changed his shirt and handed the sullied one to Yuriel to deal with. My blood is still pumping, but since I'm technically injured, I probably shouldn't continue training. He recalled the nagging he had just recently received, and his lips curled slightly. "Farrel, how about a walk to cool off?"
"As you please, my liege," Farrel replied respectfully as he briskly dusted himself off.
Eitan gave Yuriel a nod, and she curtsied before leaving the two be. Eitan smiled faintly at Farrel before taking off at a brisk yet relaxed pace. Farrel naturally fell into step behind him, and the two made their way out of the castle under Eitan's lead.
The stony road under their feet turned dusty the farther they moved from the castle. They walked in relative silence, the only sounds to be heard being Farrel's steady footsteps and Eitan's light ones.
As they continued, a lone figure appeared, approaching from the other direction on the road. Farrel stood a tad more erect as the person drew nearer. It was a young woman, carrying a sack on her back with green grasses poking out of the top. The wrinkled clothes and dusty sweat streaks on her face told of the toils of the day. Upon catching sight of the two men, she greeted them with a bright smile and a polite wave.
An herb gatherer? Eitan observed the dirt caked onto her hand, and he returned a light nod. As his gaze rose, he made eye contact with the woman. The hairs on the back of his neck raised as an all-too-familiar feeling washed over him. Bloodlust! His head instinctively tilted to the side as a thin silver object flew through the air where his neck had been a split second before. The next instant, his sword was unsheathed as three more slivers hurled towards him. In one smooth motion, he swept them all out of the air and jumped back to assess the situation. He glanced briefly at the ground to observe the objects he had knocked down. In the dust sat gleaming silver needles with unnerving blackened tips. Poison needles. An assassination attempt?!
He didn't have much more time to think as the young woman suddenly shed her sack and leaped towards him, black blades appearing in between each of her fingers. He was about to counterattack when a broad back appeared before him, and multiple clanging sounds resounded.
"My liege, were you harmed?" Farrel asked back at Eitan as the young woman, no, the assassin, skidded a few steps back.
"No," Eitan peeked around Farrel to stare coldly at the assailant. "I don't recall offending you. Why are you coming after me?"
Surprisingly, the woman halted in her attacks and smiled at Eitan. It was an expression friendly enough to make one doubt if it was the same person who had just launched a fatal series of attacks. "It's a pity you dodged those needles. I was planning to make this quick and easy, you know." A sweet and light-hearted voice responded to him, but completely ignored his inquiry, instead looking at Farrel. "Old man, why don't you get out of the way? It would be so pitiful to end the life of someone who doesn't need to die."
Farrel's current demeanor was so sharp it could be said to cut the air. "As long as I am present, you shall not touch a hair on my liege."
The woman sighed, and her expression looked genuinely sad. "Truly, so pitiful." However, exactly as she appeared to be lamenting, she pushed off the ground and hurtled towards Farrel. Two black daggers emerged from her sleeves and were grasped firmly in her hands as she closed in on him.
Daggers and longsword clashed, and Eitan watched on with a calm expression. He trusted Farrel's strength, so he wasn't exactly concerned, but this person was skilled, even considering the standards of his previous life. To hide one's bloodlust to such an extent was only possible for some of the most talented; it was the number one hallmark of a high-level assassin. Not to mention the proficiency with hidden weapons and even the use of poison.
However, no matter how excellent, an assassin was an assassin in the end, and this person seemed particularly lacking in close combat. The woman was noticeably being pushed back by Farrel, whose longsword unhesitantly slashed and thrusted in a deadly dance. Obviously aware of the growing disadvantage, the woman darted back outside of the longsword's range.
But this was a mistake. Farrel did not miss the opening created, and a shining dagger appeared in his hand, which was accurately shot straight into the woman's shoulder. Blood trickled down to stain the frumpy clothes, but the woman didn't even let out a groan. With an unchanged expression, she unleashed a few more silver needles using her unencumbered arm.
Instead of deflecting, Farrel swiftly ducked and charged forward. A white aura blazed over his sword, and a look of shock tinted the woman's face. In this moment, the tip of the longsword slashed over the woman's chest, cutting through cloth and slicing skin. But before the blade could go any deeper, the woman rolled backwards with a push off the ground. As she did so, a few shiny objects clattered to the ground, presumably having been cut loose by the blow.
Before even getting to her feet, a handful of small blades were shot at Farrel, targeting multiple vital points. This forced Farrel to take a step back, and his sword elegantly swept around to deflect the projectiles.
It was during this gap that the woman erected herself, eyes darting from Farrel to Eitan. Her expression was deathly cold for a moment before returning to the appearance of a girl next door. Which was rather disconcerting, considering all of her upper garments were now thoroughly dyed with blood. "An aura user wasn't within the calculations. What a pity. It seems you shall live a little longer." She spoke to Eitan lightly.
She then crouched down as Farrel's sword swung at her head. The woman leaped backwards a few times and gave Eitan an easy wave. "I'll see you soon." Her words mimicked those of a close friend bidding farewell.
"Stop her!" Eitan shouted at Farrel, who was already speeding towards the woman with his blade outstretched.
However, the middle-aged Farrel was no match for the nimbleness of the lithe assassin. "Damn it!" He cursed as he deflected another barrage of projectiles, the increasing distance even further. The woman tirelessly darted backwards until she reached the shade of a tree, and then entirely vanished from sight.
Farrel circled the area for a short while before returning to Eitan and kneeling before him with an ashamed expression. "I have failed you yet again." This marked the second time Farrel had allowed an assassin to slip away. The first time by death, now having them flee.
Eitan gently shook his head and smiled down at the knight. "No, you did well. You indeed protected me, after all."
"My liege–!" Farrel lifted his head with a gaze swimming with emotion.
Eitan patted his shoulder as he cast his gaze to the ground before them, a harsh glint in his eyes. "Besides, it isn't as though we got nothing out of this." He stepped forward and bent down, picking up an object covered with specs of blood. It was one of the things that Farrel had cut loose from the assassin. He held it up to the sun, and it shone with a golden glint. It was a golden plaque, and of a rather familiar appearance. Aside from the color, it was reminiscent of the copper one retrieved from the assassin before. The corners of his lips curled up under his icy eyes. "I'm certain we'll meet again."