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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 11, 2012 23:52:21 GMT -5
"If you wish to, your highness," the smile did not come as naturally this time. 'Talk to myself'--what exactly did that entail? "Now, as I understand," Æschere's fingers began unraveling, with a mindless ease, the bands of leather which sheathed his sword, "you have already learned the fundamentals of maneuvering a foil. How do you fare with the sabre?" Novi had never held a sabre, if the royal accountant was to be believed. To disarm him would be a simple task.
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 11, 2012 23:55:30 GMT -5
"I've never held a sabre," said Novi, who thought that disarming him would be as easy as kicking him in his sleep. He watched his fencing master's fingers slide easily over his sword, then forced himself to meet the man's eyes. "You seem very practiced in the use of one," he attempted, with a smile.
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 12, 2012 0:02:49 GMT -5
"I should hope so, as I am the instructor. But to master the instrument will surely be a simple matter for royalty such as yourself. You have, as I understand it, extensive training, have you not?" there seemed a certain void in his smile, as though it were merely a mask pulled over quite contrastant emotions. "Here you are." He presented the sabre, prepared to wobble at the handle, so as to make quick counterattacks practically impossible, to his target with such precision his conscience could hardly seem clearer. But alert poise was what distinguished Æschere among assassins. He was not one to lose his head at the initiation of his machinations. So the game would begin. He enjoyed it in a way.
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 12, 2012 0:10:33 GMT -5
There was something about his fencing master's smile that reminded him of the politicians in his father's court. But it wasn't particularly alarming--could not politicians also be fencing masters? Even so...
His attendants were hovering as they always were, at a distance. Novi beckoned them to come closer, and could think of no excuse for why he'd done so, so after another moment of thought, he gave none. He was exercising caution--now that Felma was dying, he was next in line for the throne, and assassinations of such heirs were hardly uncommon. His tutor would be proud of him.
"Right," he said, taking the sabre. He tried another smile, which felt shaky. "Proceed."
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 13, 2012 22:11:13 GMT -5
A few complex twirls and Æschere had whisked his pupil into a sweat. He stood poised, bouncing lightly in measured enthusiasm, coiling for another attack. But his eyes flicked to the huddled mass of dependents and confidants that seemed to follow the moribund prince like flies. They would have to be shaken off, but how...?
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 13, 2012 22:27:44 GMT -5
---
Novi woke to darkness. There was the moon overhead, and the sharp, bare twines of trees, and if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the barest ghost of a mist hazing the forest. He put a hand to his head--it throbbed--and sat up.
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 13, 2012 22:31:22 GMT -5
Æschere had been mentally reviewing his employer's instructions with eyes shut and languid pose, so that it was almost impossible to tell whether or not he slept.
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 13, 2012 22:36:45 GMT -5
A shadowed figure sat a few steps away, beside a solitary pool of moonlight.
"Master?" said Novi, without thinking.
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 13, 2012 22:38:56 GMT -5
"Yes?" the epithet had taken Æschere by surprise. He now relaxed once more, tension draining from his frame, against the gnarled trunk he kept as company. He could tell the prince was disoriented, and mentally calculated the odds of concussion, and its unwanted implications.
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 13, 2012 22:47:14 GMT -5
And then it all came flooding back to him.
"Oh, gods," said Novi, dropping his gaze to the ground as though the sight of his master--his false master--had burned him. When his heart had stopped thumping so painfully, he was able to raise his gaze again--to the man's legs, carelessly sprawled, to the silhouette of the man's shoulders. His face was in shadow.
The man had hurled him amid his attendants, scattering them, then whirled like a dancer and grabbed Novi and dragged him along, to the battlements, where Novi had screamed for help. But the guards weren't listening. One of the guards had knocked his sword out of his hand, and another had grabbed him by the shoulders, and then--
"I fainted again," said Novi, returning his gaze to the ground. "Didn't I?"
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 13, 2012 22:52:07 GMT -5
"You can claim you were knocked unconscious, if you prefer. I hardly see that it makes any difference," the glimmer of moonlight reflected from Æschere's eyes disappeared as he flicked them closed once more. They were then to head south beyond the moore for a journey of roughly two weeks... he struggled to remember the particulars. His task had been simple enough to grasp, its place in a grander scheme of events, indeed, the grander scheme of events itself, had been purposefully obfuscated for the abductor. He now worried. His employer's pressing sentiments had been quite enough to portend unpleasant ordeals for Novi. He was a pathetic wilt of a prince, but he was hardly more than a boy. Æschere tried to set these thoughts aside. The reflected moons flickered into existence once more, as he watched his captive.
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 13, 2012 22:54:03 GMT -5
Novi took a breath, and found his voice surprisingly steady. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. "What will you do to me?"
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 13, 2012 22:57:44 GMT -5
"I will walk with you for around three days. I don't know what will happen after that." Æschere closed his eyes again. He preferred not to communicate with the company his profession required him to keep.
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Post by mistermajere on Jan 13, 2012 23:02:18 GMT -5
"Three--" Novi began, and began again, "But Fel--"
He stopped. Of course this man knew about Felma. Her dying was the reason he, Novi, had been kidnapped. He'd spent a full day as the emerging heir to the throne of Scyld Scefing.
He took another breath, more shakily this time. "My father has lands," he managed. "And gold. And...women, if that's what you like." He still couldn't see the man's expression. "Whoever hired you to do this--whoever's paying you--my father could pay you more."
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Post by mupsmiley on Jan 13, 2012 23:05:53 GMT -5
Æschere had heard that before.
He swallowed a breath and examined his cuticles, more to convince himself than his captive that he was only half interested.
"Why on earth should I kidnap you for women?" the sly quirk in his tone was the closest he would allow himself to a laugh, "I know some men who would take offense at the suggestion," now he did smile, a hungry sort of leer, which he knew his captive could not possibly see. A strange desolation swept his deepest thoughts, as it often did on such nights. He hated such discussions. To listen to pleas is an awkward thing.
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