Shadows

"Princess, we're going to be late, and I would hate to upset your mother with tardiness."

Arielle caught her lower lip between her teeth to hold back a sigh as her steward, Charles, continued to fret about the time, remarking on all sorts of things, from how long it would take for them to travel to their destination, to the growing activity of bandits in the road, and even dropped the King and Queen's feelings into the mix. Ignoring the incessant babble of his reedy voice, she gestured to the maid to make one final adjustment to her tiara, studying her figure in the mirror before allowing a smile to slip onto her face.

That accomplished, the seven year old girl turned to face the greying steward; at times, she worried that all of the worries and problems the elderly man juggled would conflict with his portly stature and advanced age, and cause him just to faint on the spot. "Charles, my mother, my father and all of the guests will understand that a princess arrives precisely when she is ready. Until then, they have to wait, so there is no use in fretting about it. Now, be honest, how do I look?"

Charles took a moment to study the young girl, taking in her auburn curls and ringlets that framed the silver tiara perched on her head, to her ovular face that was still shedding its baby fat. Her sparkling green eyes were full of merriment and excitement for the ball that was their destination, and her golden ball gown was set to draw the eyes of all, each ruffle and frill beautifully set in the material to make her seem more of the noble princess of her heritage and less of the firey girl that she was, one who would rather ride horses and set off on adventures than deal with the etiquette and finery of royalty. Still, though, she did love the parties, and that was the only way King Rayerth managed to get his only child into such a dress.

A soft smile grew on Charles lips as he bowed gracefully. While the years had thinned out his hair and tinted his mustache grey, it had done nothing to mar his poise. "Her Majesty looks the pinnacle of beauty and elegance tonight. Words do you no justice, Princess."

Arielle couldn't hold back a giggle as she gave a curtsey in return, only bobbling it as she rose back to her feet. "Thank you, Charles. Now, let's be on our way." The words had scarcely left her mouth as she began to stride towards the door, leaving her chambers and the steward behind.

Charles quickly recovered and hurried after her, pausing only for a second to dismiss the maids that had assisted in the dressing. He clapped his hands as he exited the Princess's chambers, the guards stationed on either side springing into action and taking up posts on each side of the girl as they trekked down to the courtyard, where their carriage awaited. "Do not worry, Princess, the journey shant be long. And we have Ser Erin and Ser Layns to protect us. I doubt any brigands would dare approach us with them on guard." Ser Erin was wiry, a wisp of a man merely three years out of boyhood, but it was said that there was no one faster in all of Taers with a sword, the knight having proved himself when he managed to cut down a charging bear intent of ending the King on one of his hunts. Ser Layns, in stark comparison, was a mountain of a man, looking to be a juggernaut when in his full armor, a nigh unstoppable force. Both had been assigned to the princess since she was small, and she adored each of them as if they were her blood uncles.

The Princess looked at her honor guard with a smile and nodded deeply to them, each in turn. "I have no doubt that they wish that they were rather dancing with lovely ladies than having to be stuck making sure we don't break a wheel." Her smile flitted to a mischevious grin. "I'm sure I can find two lovely maidens who will keep you company." Ignoring the quick protests of her guards and the muffled chortles of the steward, she approached the main doors and did not even pause for the servants to open them, allowing her to flounce into the courtyard and straight to their carriage.

Charles huffed as he was forced to bustle past the girl, smoothly flinging open the door of their ride so that she did not wait even a step in her approach, sidling in after her. Ser Erin brought up the rear of the interior crew, while the carriage sank and shifted to accomadate Ser Layns out front. Despite his bulk, he was a wonder with horses, and could make them prance with barely a gesture or command; he had done it several times for Arielle to entertain her, and often told her that the horse god had taught him a few tricks that allowed him to perform such wonders. With a quick click of the teeth and a flick of the reins, the giant brought them into motion and on their way.

The steward remained quiet, his eyes constantly flitting towards the exterior of the coach, as if fearing that thieves would spring out of the shadows right in his face. Ser Erin was much more relaxed, and regaled the Princess with a story of the river blades of the far Eastern land of Ofeil, swordsmen no larger than twigs who moved like water in battle, their elegance and grace when fighting giving them the name "the dancers of steel". He knew that she loved stories of adventure, and true to her nature, she was enthralled with his tale, leaning as far forward as she could without rumpling her gown. More than once she interrupted to ask questions about how they moved and why everyone didn't fight as such, along with the repeated insistence of being taught how to use a blade. As always, Ser Erin would laugh heartily and give them same reply he had given her for all of these years: "When you are older, and the King won't skin me alive, I will teach you."

Arielle felt it before her mind made her aware of what was going on: the coach was slowing down to a stop, meaning that they had arrived at their destination. She huffed, wishing that the stories could continue even during the party before forcing herself to prepare for the uptightness of the ball. She was the Princess of Taers, and would be expected to act as such. Hopefully she would only have to meet a very few people, stand and nod politely for a minimal amount of time. And then she could dance to her heart's content, led by nobles, knights, and especially her father; she always loved dancing with him, from when she stood on his feet as he taught her.

However, as she turned to ask Charles to assist her in her descent from the carriage, she noticed that the two men were as stiff as stone, and staring out of the doors with apprehension. A quick look told her why: there was no estate beyond the doors, no glamour or lights of the Duke Flavion's abode, where the soiree was being held. Instead, they were in the middle of a covered bridge, the only illumination coming from lanterns at either end, and the torches attached to their ride.

Ser Erin already had his blade in hand, reaching out with his free hand to move the Princess behind him. "Something's not right," he murmured, voicing everyone's opinion. He carefully leaned his head out of the small window to see what was the matter with their driver, and quickly drew it back in. The Princess and the steward both cried out in horror as they saw that the reason for the man's sudden retreat was the growing red line along his neck, his lifeblood pouring out as his body slumped, dead before he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Charles began to shriek and wail, being much less composed than the girl who was frozen in terror next to him. "I can't believe it who would do such a thing to Ser Erin Ser Layns quickly now we have to get out of here before-"

His cries were halted as he turned towards the window to encouter a face grinning wolfishly in at him. "Boo." The steward screamed in a high pitched voice before his eyes rolled up into his head, promptly passing out of consciousness.

The masked assailant looked in and saw Arielle, who stared dumbfounded back at him. He slid backwards and made a bow. "Your Majesty, the Princess, how delighted I am it is you. I wasn't sure with only two guards, but this makes it much less awkward." She gaped at the male, but he ignored her slack jawed appearance, turning away and calling out into the darkness. "Yes, it's the Princess here, just like you desired." His voice was smooth like silk, one that was comfortable in talking and having others listen to what it said.

"Good, now we can gets a mighty noice sum from 'er old man." The crusty voice brought the girl out of her shock, at least enough to where she flung herself to the door and craned her head out to see what was going on. Beside the individual next to the carriage, she spotted a group of at least a score of men of varying sizes and ages, approaching from the far end of the bridge. In the torchlight, she caught the gleam of bare daggers and swords, along with the toothy, hungry grin of those coming for her. She assumed the man who had spoke to her man- for that was what she was labeling the closest brigand- had to be the one in front, the one who acted as a leader. His midnight cloak rippled behind him, an elegance that was a stark contrast to a squished face, complete with smashed nose, a scar along the cheek, and greasy black hair. His shoulders were broad, his chest was broad, and it appeared as if every garment of clothing he had on was threatening to rip off of his body, being too small to hold him back. He gripped a longsword possessively in one hand even as he approached, looking all the part of a robber from the streets.

But her man... Arielle turned back at him, taking a chance now to study him, for he seemed different. As opposed to the harshness of the street as his shroud, he held himself with the stature of a nobleman. His clothes were unmarred, and as she took a better look at him, were not actually black as opposed to a dark grey, which seemed to capture the shadows around him easily. His build was well hidden by his attire, but it reminded her of the quite recently deceased Ser Erin. A mask clothed his head and hid his face, but she could not forget the storm grey eyes that had held her own just seconds before. He seemed like a brigand, but not one of harsh reality; he was more like the dashing rogues that the maids spoke about in their fantasies.

Her man merely smiled and held out a hand. "And, now as you know, I will have my fee. Afterwards, do with her as you wish." His casual dismissal shocked the girl, causing her to roar out the window. "How dare you, ser, I am a Princess and-"

"Be quiet, Princess, the adults are talking." His words, along with the sharp glance he threw in her direction, clipped her speech and wounded her pride. His gaze turned back towards the bandits that were now scarcely ten yards away. "The fee, please."

The leader's grin split his ugly mug as he guffawed, his men following in suit. "Well, sees here, I was thinkin that there's only one of yous and that would mean-"

"Oh please don't say it." Arielle's man clicked his tongue as his hand dropped to his hip, resting there. "You think that you can just ask for my assistance and then when I'm done, kill me off and hoard the gold to yourself? You'll be getting a ransom from the Princess anyway, so what is a few measley coins? You are the one who asked for the Shadow, and the Shadow has a price."

The Shadow. The girl gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. It was something that she had heard, at first from Ser Erin, and then from her father when she pressed it. The Shadow was a title, said to have been passed down for the last few centuries. The individual known as the Shadow would take any job, do any deed, no matter how large or small or morbid. He would charge accordingly, but he had never failed in anything set before him. She looked back at her- no, she could no longer think of him as her man. He was the Shadow, a dangerous being and a monster who had done things that even the King shuddered to think about, if the stories were all true. He was no one's man; he was a rogue wolf who would willingly bite the hand that fed him for the right price.

Once again, guffaws came from the crowd, more blades catching the faint torchlight as their leader spoke once more. "Better we be richer than pay you for a couple of piddly killin's. Besides, your Shadowness," he paused to offer a mocking bow, gaining more laughs from the show of disrespect. "You best be on your way 'fore we kill ya. I'm feelin' generous."

The other man sighed, shaking his head slowly. "And to think, that the Shadow warned you about all of this with the Fall of Antiarch. I thought that would be enough to keep this from happening again."

The Fall of Antiarch. Arielle heard of it the first and only time she pressed her father about the Shadow, to see if she could coax stories from him like she could from Ser Erin. It was a tale of warning that he immediately presented about why men such as the Shadow could not be trusted. Harren, the desposed king of Antiarch, had promised the Shadow a title and an estate if he would help him win back the throne. The mercenary had agreed, and singlehandly assassinated the current royal family and their guards, clearing the way for Harren's men to take back the castle and place him back on the throne. But when it came time to give credit where credit is due, Harren refused, saying that a killer shouldn't be given dominion over "good, moral men", and even set out a bounty on the Shadow. That night, every single soldier and man in the castle was killed, with the king's head set out on a spike as a warning of what happens to those who double cross the Shadow.

The Princess's eyes widened as they had when she first heard the tale, but her mouth was moving softly as her brain supplied her with facts. "But that was..."

"That was a hunred years ago, so don't think ya can scare me with old wives' tales!" The brigand picked up on the girl's train of thought and finished her sentence. "Tell me somethin' ya really did, and I may spare ya from-"

His words died in a gurgle, and Arielle was confused as to why he stopped talking, until she realized that a knife had blossomed from his throat. The bandit choked, gasped, and collapsed onto the bridge. All remaining eyes turned back to the Shadow, his gloved hand still outstretched from the throw. Seeing that he had everyone's attention, the rogue resumed his prior stance, his hand on his hip once more. "Alright, now we have two options: you can either just pay me what you owe me, plus his share, and we can forget this ever happened. Or-"

Coming to their senses, a brigand raised his dagger over his head and shouted a bloodcurdling scream, causing the Princess to flinch and draw back into the safety of her carriage. Yet she did not take her eyes away from the man so close to her, not even when the others carried the cry. She could see his body sag as he sighed, shaking his head once more. "It always has to be the hard way," he whispered, the words barely making it to her ears.

And then they were on him.

Afterwards, she would repeatedly play what she saw in her head again and again, trying to catch it all. The brigands, clad in black and brown, had charged in like an angry tide, seeking to snuff out his life. And yet the Shadow had moved through them like he wasn't even there at all, swords and daggers intent of tasting his blood only supped on air. Where his weapons came from, she didn't know, only that he had a blade in each hand and used them as if they were a part of his body. She had watched her father's men practice in the courtyard, studying their drills from her window when she was bored. She knew how men fought, how they struggled. And yet it seemed as if the Shadow was teasing, dancing just beyond the reach of one man before opening him up, setting it up to where he was shielded now from another attack. It was like nothing she had ever seen, and there was beauty and death amongst his form.

And as quickly as it began, it was over, the man in grey the only one still standing.

The Shadow let out a slow breath before crouching down, cleaning his stained steel on the shirt of the fallen before seathing them again. "May the gods have mercy on you in the next life," he said aloud, before reaching around to dig around in the belongings of the dead. On the third body, he appeared to find what he was looking for: a small purse. "This was all I wanted; was that so hard?" The corpse did not reply.

The man turned and began to walk away, whistling to himself. Arielle gazed at the retreating form, and quickly found her voice once more. "W-wait!"  She didn't want anyone like those men to come back, and even if he had killed her guards and was going to sell her to kidnappers, this man had also saved her from the bandits.

The Shadow paused in midstride and tilted his head back so that he could see the girl. "Yes?"

His nonchalant tone, after he had slaughtered all of those men, threw her off balance and into a tizzy. "You- you can't just leave me here like this!"

The male paused, contemplating what she said. "Yes, I can." He turned and continued his trek.

"I am a Princess! It is your duty to-"

"I have no allegiance to you or your family, Princess, I owe you nothing."

Arielle bit her lip, trying to grasp at straws. "I-I can pay you!"

That statement resulted in a quick about face and movement towards the carriage, the girl's eager face suddenly in close proximity with the masked man's. "So, you think that just by offering a bit of coin, I'll dance to your tune?"

The Princess, though frightened by him, did not back down, even in her young age, though it did not prevent a stammer from entering her speech. "T-that is what you do, isn't it? Payment for anyt-thing?"

The Shadow said nothing for a moment, but then gave a curt nod. "That's true enough, Princess. But you've seen what happens when people don't live up to their promises." He didn't even need to gesture to the dead around them; the memory was burned into her mind, and it would haunt her dreams for years.

"I-I know, and I will not play you false, ser Shadow. My father-"

"Is not here, dear Princess, and at the moment, I have little faith in payment that is not in hand." He leaned away from the window, and pivoted on his boot, intent on leaving again.

"W-wait!" Arielle cried out, desperate for him not to leave; only her steward was still alive, and he was out cold, and she did not want to be alone, not amongst the dead. She reached up and removed her tiara, her curls fraying around where she had pulled it out, before offering the jewelry with both hands towards the mercenary.

The Shadow stared at the headpiece silently, taking in the diamonds and silver that made it. His eyes shifted to the girl's face, then back to the proposed payment. A gloved hand roughly grabbed the handle and opened the door, startling the Princess as he was suddenly inside. His reach extended past her, moving into the vest pocket of the unconscious Charles, and lifting a small bag which jingled with each movement. He slipped it into his own pocket, and looked back at the girl. "For escorting you, that will be enough, dear Princess. Plus I would hate to have the King and Queen hunting down the man who has their daugther's tiara."

Arielle bit her lip, unsure what to say. Surely the amount that he had just took was barely a fraction at what the offered item was worth. And yet he was right that he could be hunted down by tracing where the tiara was sold. But surely he could elude that pursuit, so why?

His voice cut through her daze, bringing her back to reality. "So, where am I placing you that is not here?"

The Princess had to get her mind back in order; the prior few minutes had seemed like days, and it was hard to remember where she was going. "The e-estate of Duke F-Flavion."

The Shadow huffed. "I never did like that blowhard; maybe he could put on a fancy party, but he isn't worth the land he sits on." His cloudy eyes looked back at the girl. "Better hold on tight, I wouldn't want you to be late." He smirked and chuckled as he slipped out of her sight.

Arielle didn't seem to think to take his advice until she heard the whoop and was almost thrown from her seat as the carriage jumped forward. She managed to keep her balance, avoiding falling on the dead knight at her feet and gripped the side of the coach. She began to take stock of the cost of what had happened: her two knights were dead- for she had heard nothing from Ser Layns and knew that he wouldn't have just sat by through that-, Charles was not aware of what had even happened, and he was now one purse lighter. On top of that, several brigands now littered the bridge, her hair was displaced from its set style, and even- she looked down to check to see if what she had peeked was accurate- there was blood on her shoes and dress. She was not sure at all what her father, or worse, her mother, would say to the sight of her.

The carriage jolted to a halt, almost throwing the Princess back against the wall of the interior. As it rocked back to seat itself, the Shadow appeared at her window once more, pulling the bloody gloves off of his fingers. "Here we are, Princess, one nice party that will be oh so livened up by your appearance and tale." And true, she could hear that they were there, from the faint rumble of noise of those already inside to the shout of the guards, most likely due to the coach that came barreling into their domain.

A bare hand clutched her chin, skin touching skin for the first time, and drew Areille's green eyes to meet the stormy ones of the man in front of her. "Now, I will tell you this once, and I hope you will remember it well." His voice had a cold tone, a knife's edge that cut each word into her memory. "You were extremely fortunate to have met the Shadow once and come through relatively unscathed. Don't push your luck. Should anyone ever mention calling me, tell them what you saw, and warn them. I would hate to have to kill you some day."

The man let go of her chin and reached down, deftly picking up the tiara, and very gently sliding it back into place into the Princess's hair, smoothing down a few wild strands to have her appear more presentable. "And now, with your leave."

And he was gone.

The guards' cries of identification turned into cries of alarm as they discovered the dead knights, the prone steward, and the Princess merely staring out of the window. They called out for reinforcements and for the King and Queen, before opening the carriage and moving out the bodies of the fallen. Charles fluttered back into this world at this point, and bolted up, looking around in complete bewilderment of their present location. He whirled back to the girl, hoping to obtain some enlightenment. "Princess, who... what... where..."

Arielle turned slowly to face him, her face still fluttering through a myriad of emotions, unsure what she should be feeling. "Let us wait for my parents, Charles, so I can explain it to everyone at once. It was..." She hesitated, trying to determine the right word for what had just transpired. "An adventure."