Sword and Magic
 

In a land of myth and a time of magic, the fate of the world becomes clouded with turmoil. Kings rise and fall; mighty heroes come and go as they are needed and yet, in far off lands an endless battle rages long forgotten from its origins.
A woman of pale skin and dark emerald eyes wields a blade made of the darkest metal. The steel clashes against the deadly black claws of an unseen foe but with the cunning to catch the beast off guard, the woman sends a shooting blast of sparks into its ebony hide, causing the creature to disappear into black smoke and glide away into the night.

Not even taking time to breathe, the woman pursues with an iron will, her pure black hair trailing along behind her in a braid. Her appearance to most would be rather strange, the clothing and armour of a man but shaped to the body of a woman. She cares not to what others think of her however for the beast now flees and she must be the one to end it at last.
The hunt is on.

*

The wolves stalk with rigid excitement along the darkened streets, their tawny eyes alight with fervour. The hunt is nearing its close, and climax for the wolves, but for the bold and wiry figure that leads, the culmination is a disappointment. Her hawk-like face is masked by a cloak, but her identity is more than clear to the terrified civilians behind the curtained windows. The Gauntlet has been thrown, and the city knows that blood will be shed tonight.

The soldiers stand in formation behind the woman, and she motions them the door of a small stone residence. The head of the guard steps forwards in light chain mail, one arm on his sword. He tries to catch the woman’s amber eyes, but she simply nods at him from the recesses of her hood, in a bored manner. Trails of sloppy and obvious magic curl round her boots, and she shakes their leather to be rid of their impurity. The captain turns back nervously, but this time, the flash of impatience in her eyes is obvious. He raps sharply on the door.

“This is the Gauntlet. We have evidence that you have been practicing the forbidden arts. Do not struggle, your home is surrounded. Death is your only option, and you will burn in hell for this abomination,” his voice was mechanical, but it betrayed a slight of nervousness. The fear from the company was visible, save for the woman. After a few tense moments of silence, an impatient gesture came from within the mahogany cloak. Immediately the formation changed. The wolves quickened their breath, and the captain shared their vehemence for a brief moment, then broke the wooden door with a sharp crack from his spear.

“Don’t come any closer!” The desperation from the voice was evident. Revealed in the meagre cabin was a thin, sallow faced man beaded with sweat. He stood in the middle of a pentacle, candles alight. The room reverberated with energy, blue sparks crackling in the air. The guard captain retreated a mile, yelling, “A third rank, men! Send in the hounds, move in!”

“A third rank?” the chill her voice froze the activity where it stood. Moira Seivre, the Gauntlet’s Hand, pulled back her hood to reveal her refined and elegant face, tinged with irritation, “Did I not stress that there was nothing to fear from this case?” She stepped forward to observe the scene and shook her head at the captain. “Ignorant fools.”

“I said don’t move!” The little color in the man’s face drained. He raised his hands in a weak and little concentrated effort. The sparks ignited inches from his face, and in the burst of ill-gotten flame, he missed the knife tracking perfectly for his palm. The howl of pain was all the wolves needed. The company rushed in with chaotic brutality, ripping the screaming man from the neutralized circle. Moira did not move, closing her ears to the inevitable whip of blade snapping spinal cord. She let her mind take over, whirring through the best parts of the case.
This one was not worth the death toll.

In a window just above, young Arcturus agreed with Moira, though he never would have guessed it. Though the callousness of the soldiers sickened him, he did not look away. A King would be expected to suffer for the good of his people. And Kings faced horrors head on, with grace and royalty. Or so he had heard, anyways. His ears pricked at the distant clash of steel, though the street battle had been over before it had begun. He tried to search for the source of the sound, but the soldiers had erupted into half-hearted cheers to celebrate their victory. He sighed and sat back down on the cool steps of the castle. If this ‘purging’ of the Kingdom was to be for the good of the people, why did it result in so much suffering of the people?

*

“Sire?” the words of a fairly scrawny teenager entered the night at Arcturus’ side. His bright blue eyes were turned to the ground, trying to hide his fear and disapproval of the acts below. “Is there anything I can get for you?” the prince’s servant Melk questioned. In truth this was not so much of a desire to serve the prince but rather a hope to get far away from the sounds of the terrible things below.

*

“No, Melk,” Arcturus stood abruptly, barely maintaining his calm demeanour. “But you can accompany me back to my room, actually. I think I might take a cup of hot cider before bed.” The Prince stepped shakily away from the evening’s horrors, offering something of a smile to the servant he almost considered a companion.

*

The beast had caught a scent.

“Ah, alright” Melk nodded and gave a bit of a smile in return.

It was moving more quickly now.

The servant obediently joined the prince on the way back to his quarters in relative silence.

She could barely keep up.

Melk paused at the base of the staircase that lead to the floor of Arcturus’ chambers, something felt strangely amiss.

She’d lost sight of it but she wasn’t about to give up the chase so easily.
Melk turned, looking around the shadowy corridor, seeing nothing he shrugged and turned back to follow the prince, only to see a monstrous form rise from the shadows at the top of the stairs. It’s ugly black head reared as it’s body slowly came into shape with the gathering shadows. Long, piercing claws formed from its hands and a deadly spiked tail swept along the stones behind it.

It was pure darkness, as though the shadows themselves had gathered together to create a solid being of evil but the eyes were the worst; dark, swirling pools that simultaneously drew you in and also seemed to see right through you. Its lips parted in a sneer as an inhuman snarl came from deep within its throat. Without further warning, it launched towards the prince with a hunger in its daunting gaze.

*

Training in the royal guard since birth saves Arcturus from immediate death. Letting out a scream much unlike his princely manner, he bolts back up the stair, hoping that Melk is right behind. The creature shifts in a manner that seems unbelievably fast, its turbulent eyes scorching his mind from every shadow in the peripherals. He sprints through the brightened upper halls, turning corners until he can no longer hear the pant of the monster. Whipping himself into a darkened door, Arcturus slams the wood shut tightly, his own breath feeling monstrously painful.

The single torch lighting the narrow hallway cast patterns of dark shadow on the wall. Arcturus’ breath slows, but the echoes rattle past to the far doorway. He eases his steps silently to the exit, looking behind instead of beside. His shadow grows , the darkness draining all that is not bathed in the torch’s glow. By the time he turns, the torrent of darkness had rearranged before his very eyes. Cowering under the torch, he screamed again and ran.

Melk's eyes widened in fear, immediately having the same inclination as the prince did-to scream and run away. He bolted in a different direction, although several corridors later he found he wasn't being pursued. Taking a nervous look around he peered back around the last corner-still no sight of the beast. As relieved as that made the servant it also occurred to him that it meant the creature had gone after Arcturus instead.

Taking in a deep, nervous breath he nodded to himself, "Not on my watch" he whispered anxiously and began to steadily make his way back to find the prince. "... Yes Melk, go towards the danger. Save the bloody, pompous prince, it's your duty as a member of this land. So why do I feel like such an idiot doing it? Oh right, it'll probably kill me, that's why" He continued to mumble to himself as he made his way back.



The beast hadn't even noticed the servant run, it's entire concentration lay upon that alluring scent in it's nostrils. A scent of that wonderful blood pumping through the veins of the other fleeing boy, it was enough to drive the creature mad with hunger.

It's body melted into the shadows and glided along down the hall. Soon catching up to the prince it merged with Arcturus' shadow, stalking him as the boy continued to run. So long, weeks, months even, it couldn't remember the last time it had gotten a taste for that blood, all it knew was that it needed it to survive and this boy was a feast worth taking.

The shadow reached up, wrapping a clawed hand around the prince's ankle to stop him as it rose from the ground again, it's many toothed maw drooled black saliva as it leaned in hungrily. It's breath smelled like death.



Suddenly the window smashed to pieces as a curled up body came barreling through and landed in the hall. In her hands she bore a loaded crossbow with the arrow alight in flame. In an instant she had rolled to her feet and shot straight through the beast's face, causing the entire thing to dissipate back into shadow and thus fail in biting the prince's head off. The girl dropped her crossbow with a disregarded clang to switch to a more favorable blade. Drawing it from it's sheath on her side the sword was fascinating to behold. It's blade was like pure darkness, a steel that almost seemed to swallow light, while the handle looked to be made of pure white bone, formed in an extravagant fashion.

"I suggest you get behind me" she spoke to Arcturus, less of a suggestion and more of a command really and just as well; the beast was already reforming.

Arcturus' voice stopped in his throat as he beheld the woman in front of him. He took her advice not a moment too soon-the beasts' iron grip barely missed his outstretched arm. The battle before him was incredible to behold. The woman moved with an unparalleled skill-slashing and parying the beasts' monstrous claws. The shadows were shifting backwards now, clearly on the run from the wicked blade that the woman wielded.

The crossbow lay forgotten next to Arcturus as the woman advanced on here prey. He picked it up, still burning with a strange flame. Taking aim, breathing heavily, he tried to aim the heavy intrument at the beast, as the woman wove in and out of its shadowy grip.

With a teriffic bang, the north door burst open, and the Gauntlet burst in. Their dramatic (unintentional) arrival served to distract Arcturus' nervous demeanor, and the crossbow fired. Its arrow missed the mark entirely, ricocheting off the wall and caught in the dry tapestry that hung from the ceiling. The igniting effect was immediate, casting a violent brightness that overwhelmed the increasing shadow.

As soon as Arcturus was out of the beast's reach, the girl lunged forward. Her strange blade carved into the foe, sending it reeling about the large corridor. It hissed and spat at her angrily as she moved about the beast with great skill. It almost looked like a dance; the creature moving in an out of the shadows, appearing at one side and then another while the girl pivoted around to meet every deadly attack with her own in return.

Every time her sword met the dark creature's flesh it seemed to carve into with light rather than darkness. Neither of the battling duo seemed all that distracted by the Gauntlet's sudden arrival, each far too enthralled in their own miniature war. This couldn't have been the first time this pair had done battle, the fierceness in their eyes spoke of an endless hatred towards each other.

As the tapestry ignited the creature howled and the girl cursed, lunging forward to try and strike at it before it went into a frenzy. Unfortunately her movements this time were not fast enough and as the beast turned away it's spiked tail drove into her side. With a sudden scream she was hurled away and crashed into the far wall, crumpling to the floor with a gasp as she hit it.

The shadow monster evaporated into the night under the bright glare of the flaming tapestry.

"Uhng" a moan parted the mysterious girl's lips as she tried to sit up but the movement was too sudden and sent her mind reeling and her body flopping down to the floor. Her sword lay a few feet away, the handle glinting in the moonlight from an open window while the blade stayed as dark as ever.

Blood spilled from the girl's side where the spiked tail had managed to pierce her armor, she seemed to be somewhat out of it.

The regiment went into complete uproar. Many of the younger soldiers drew their weapons, looking warily at the shadows that yielded no fear a moment ago. The captain rushed to the side of young Arcturus, who was gathering his wits. The brouhaha mounted until one of the soldiers reached out for the darkened blade.

"Do not touch that," Moira's sharp voice silenced the riot. The soldier drew back from the blade, uncertain. She stepped forwards and examined the blade. Suddenly, a flaming beam from above dropped next to the strange woman. Tumult arose again, as the panicked soldiers tried to halt the flames. It was a different voice that rose from the mayhem:

"STOP!" Arcturus ran immediately to the side of the strangely beautiful warrior, "This woman needs help, and the castle is in danger of this fire. Regiment! The kitchen has water to douse the flames. GO!" The soldiers filed down the stairs while Arturus tugged her body to the door frame. She was close to losing consciousness. He gave Moira a cold look before addressing her, "Lady Seivre, I need to help this woman to a medic." He slung the girl's arm over her shoulder, "Can you take her weapon?"

Moira reached out for the handle of the blade, which involuntarily sent a burst of dark energy before she had mastery of it. Her entire being coursed with the power necessary to wield such enchantment. Interesting... she mused, "I am at your command, your Highness."

"Thank you."

---

Daybreak came to the ward, and Arcturus rose from the bed with ease. Matron Louise had insisted he stay the night, despite having no wounds himself. He stepped out of bed to gaze upon the girl. Her glossy black hair was now spread along the pillow, and parts of her armor that hid her wound had been stacked beside. The strange blade that she had wielded was nowhere to be seen, but Arcturus did not really have that on his mind. Her skin was the luminous alabaster that spoke of nobility, and he admired it wonderingly. Being a prince, there was little contact with girls, and his only real companion was Melk. This, on the other hand, was another thing entirely.

The girl barely knew what was going on. Her hands groped for her sword, mumbling rather incoherently about finishing the fight. As Arcturus came to her aid her eyes gazed upon him a moment before slumping against him, "did I win?" she asked uncertainly, still trying to figure out where her sword went, "I need my... it's very precious... I have to find it... kill the... beast..." If she had been trying to fight still, it wasn't terribly obvious. She had hit her head upon contact with the wall and found herself cradling her forehead in her hand.

It wasn't too long before she passed out completely, although not without some effort to the contrary. As mysterious as she may have been at the moment, one thing was abundantly clear, she was a warrior.

*

The medic did what she could and ended up having to give the girl a mild sleeping drought to get her to settle down. As morning came and the prince came to see her, she mumbled quietly and rolled onto her side-unfortunately it was her injured side and the sharp pain that followed brought her suddenly awake and jolting up in bed.

With a gasp she looked around and with a groan she wrapped her hand around herself. She didn't seem to realize just yet that her shirt had needed to be removed to bandage her and now there was only white cloth wrapped around her middle while her chest was bare. Now that she had sat up, the blankets had also fallen away and were no longer covering her.

"uhng?" she blinked a few times and looked around, quickly noticing Arcturus, "... hm. Well this isn't what I expected to wake up to." Inspecting herself a moment she pulled the blanket back up to cover her exposed body before looking over at her armor cast to the side.

Suddenly the girl leaped to her feet, the blanket clutched to her chest so that it merely draped in front of her body as she searched through the pile of armor, "Where is?!" she demanded, her eyes alight with anger and a touch of fear as she turned to the only obvious person in the room-the prince, "Where is my sword?!"

Arcturus turned redder than a fire truck as the girl jolted awake, exposing her elegant body in the early sunlight. He was momentarily lost for words while his eyes moved, it seemed to him, by some mind of their own. Then he jerked his face backwards, downcast. The girl seemed unconcerned with his distress, and much to his further chagrin, she leaped out of bed, covered only by a thin sheet that made her look like a Grecian statue. He supressed with variable success the urge to gawk at her again. The urgency in her voice shook his mind a bit, and he forced himself to meet her gorgeous green eyes.

"The sword...um...It was here last night," Arcturus, you idiot. Say something...kingly! he thought frantically, "Moi-Lady Sievre took it. Um. She might still have it. She's always...getting in others' business...well, it's kind of her job. Anyways, you'll want to speak with her....or my father...um-"

"Oh, you're awake, hon!" Louise bustled in and threw a simple gown on the bed, "That's an awfully wanton way for a young girl to dress!" she winked broadly at Arcturus, who discovered it was possible to blush deeper than he had before. "The King will probably want a word in the moment, but let me take a look at how that wound is healing. Your highness, if you could be so kind as to let Melk know our young guest is awake?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she repeated the name, "Lady Sievre..." she wouldn't be forgetting that name anytime soon, at least not until she got her sword back. It's magic was the only thing that made destroying the beasts possible, her quest would be long lost without it.

Suddenly there was a woman in her face, to which the girl startled and nearly dropped her sheet as she turned abruptly to defend herself from... a nurse... apparently. Although now the prince had a side view of her back and the black tattoo that was inscribed upon her skin. The design was intricate and elegant, no doubt done by a master of their craft, yet it wasn't so much of a picture as it was some sort of family tree it seemed. It was hard to really see it with half of it covered by her long black hair, although apparently it ended at her tail bone with a single small name 'Zeta'.

Taking half a step away from Louise, the girl's eyes fell upon the garment that had been brought to her. Clothing, that was a good place to start this insane day. "I have no business with kings" she stated rather bluntly as she reached for the gown, "I only require what it mine and I shall leave your lands immediately."

"It's only a courtesy," Arcturus managed to achieve fluent conversation as he turned to face her. Not such a good idea.

"He wants to...thank you...probably, you know, for your service to the family. And-um, you won;t be interfering with your business. He can probably return your...sword. "

Arcturus' eyes barely caught the elaborate tattoo on her back before he abrubtly left the ward, resisting the urge to look back at the stunning young woman. Thinking on last retort, he hoped that she would not upset Uther so soon after arriving-or at all really. His uncle could be very harsh with that which he did not understand.

Melk was hanging by the entrance, a familiar face against the insanity of emotions that plagued Arcturus.

"Hey, Melk," he said, trying to keep his voice even, "Good to see you're unharmed."

The girl scoffed a little and didn't reply to him as he left. She quickly dressed, frowning a little at her armor. This gown clearly was not meant to allow for such things over top, looks like she'd have to find some more suitable clothing before she could move on. How bad could it be meeting this king?

Melk smiled as Arcturus came into view, "Hello sire. Yeah I'm fine, I'm a bit more concerned about you though. That thing completely ignored me and went after you. I sure hope it's gone now" he rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I heard some girl showed up. Any idea who she is?"

"No idea," Arcturus replied carefully, "But she seems to be very adept as a warrior. That...monster. From last night, you can bet she knows it well. I don't even know if she's from another kingdom, I've never seen female warriors, let alone ones so beau-um, skilled. Anyways, she wants her sword back. Is Moira in the west wing?"

Arcturus blushed slightly at the memory of her, trying to cover it up by stepping confidently towards the staircase. He hoped Moira would be persuaded to let him return the blade...

Melk raised an eyebrow curiously, "ah, yes, I believe she is.... what was that you were about to say?" he asked with a bit of a grin as he trailed alongside the prince, "you've never seen someone so.... skilled you say? Yes, I suppose she is skilled. Skilled in making you liiiiikkke her, you wanna kiiissss her" Melk's voice took on a teasing sing-song manner.

Arcturus blushed furiously, "Stop it, Melk. I...respect her. That's all." Melk had an uncanny ability of seeing right through to his emotions. "Besides, even if she...well, she's obviously a foreigner. And who knows what that would do...for the Kingdom. Except maybe improve diplomatic standings...Ahhh, I don't want to talk about it right now."

Throughout this tirade the two of them descended into the lower portion of the castle. The burnt oak door seemed always menacing to Arcturus, and he raised his hand to knock just below the silver gauntlet that decorated the entrance.

The jarring knocks echoed through the depths even in Moira's deep concentration. Shelving her arcane books and neatly replacing the runes, she glided up the staircase as silently as it would allow.

"I guess she's not in after all," Arcturus leaned on the door slightly and, surprisingly, it yielded, swinging open to reveal the strangely lit room. The torches were tinted slightly blue, and the desk in the center of the room was starkly clear. Cabinets storing files of all sorts were ajar, and a single chair sat at the back of the room, chains slung overtop in a casually terrifying manner. Arcturus nearly shut the door, but stopped, and giving Melk a dangerous look, he stepped into the office.

Melk made light, teasing conversation along the way, however as they approached the door he became rather silent, hanging back a step or two behind the prince. He had heard the rumors of the things that Moira was capable of. He'd also heard the distant screams, and unlike the prince, Melk didn't have a powerful father to protect him from the rather intimidating woman.

All the same, the servant followed obediently. For a moment it seemed that she wasn't there and Melk gladly turned to leave when the door opened. Cursing among his thoughts he offered Moira as sincere a smile as he could muster before swallowing nervously at the sight of her room. He merely nodded to Arcturus at the look, knowing far better than to tease the prince in the presence of others. At any rate, he wouldn't likely be speaking in the midst of Moira anyway.

Hanging around the door, Melk wasn't entirely sure if he should stay or leave but considering he hadn't been dismissed, and it was his job to follow Arcturus around, the servant stayed nearby.

Arcturus examined the contents of the drawers warily, flipping through dark green files, until his fingers caught on a particularly subtle parchment. Delicately removing the folder, he tried to discern its label, but the script was far too ornate. It may have been a different language.

"Hey Melk, do you think you can read this," he turned, but his loyal sidekick was no longer by the door. Skittish, Arcturus thought smugly, but all the same, it put him on his guard. Melk may be the more careful of the two, but his instincts were often spot on. Arcturus almost turned back to the folder when he caught Melk's panicked face, followed by the slender shadow of the Lady Seivre herself. Whipping the folder behind him, Arcturus arranged himself at a more respectiful distance just before she stepped in the door.

"Your majesty," she inclined her head wolfishly, "How may I help you." Behind her calm eyes, her thoughts were ablaze, anger and fear just barely below the surface.

"I was looking for the blade...of the warrior from last night. She wanted it back, immediately if possible."

"Ah. The blade in question has some very foreign properties, and I've taken the liberty of examining it fully for the purposes of the Kingdom's security. She turned to her cabinet, which revealed the sword, "I will return it to the girl when she appears before the court. The King wishes to speak with her-and so would I."

She turned back to the pair, her eyes speaking dismissal. Arcturus moved to leave:

"Wait," her eyes flashed dangerously, "What's that in your hands?"

"What?" Arcturus revealed his empty palms.

"Never mind. Thank you."

Arcturus and Melk exited the room, but not before Arcturus let a marble-like form drop from his pocket. They hurried up to the North tower, where they used to plan their pranks and adventures.

"Nice going Melk. You've still got it," he grinned, "Now, let's find out what she's hiding!"

Melk leaned against the door frame, waiting for the prince to be done when he spotted Seivre coming down the hall. With a glance backward he noticed Arcturus was looking through her things-to which the woman would not be pleased about. So, plastering a smile on his face he stepped forward to intercept briefly. "Ah, hello, the prince is here to see you-ah, sorry" he kept 'accidentally' stepping in the same direction as her as she tried to pass.

Eventually she got around and Melk quickly headed into the room with her. He was silent as they spoke, taking his place directly adjacent to the prince. Carefully, the loyal servant slipped the item out of Arcturus' hands and into the back of his pants to avoid suspicion from the woman in the room.

With a smile and a bow of his head, Melk turned and exited with the prince, his jacket now stealthily moved to cover the top half of the stolen property that rested in his britches. Nimbly he followed to their secret little place.

"Of course I've got it" Melk replied to the prince as he took the folder out and handed it over, "Although I haven't a clue why you would take something like this. Is it important to her?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. But I had it in my hand when she came in the room, so I figured it'd be easier to sneak it out than put it back. Besides, did you think she seemed more stiff than usual? I think she was afraid of us finding something." Arcturus had long held an animosity for Moira, mostly because he did not approve of what her Black Gauntlet did for the Kingdom. Granted, it kept dangerous magicians from uprising, but they also murdered healers, gypsies, and harmless shopkeepers who happened to know a few tricks. They kept the kingdom in line-but keeping out magic also gave rise to fear, and crime. Arcturus believed that weeding out the theives and cutthroats was just as important, if not more so. But Moira only concerned herself with large-scale organized crime.

"Did you see me slip that smoke bomb in there?" he smiled, "Just like old times. Anyways, let's check this out."

Inside the viridian case was an ancient piece of parchment. It depicted a series of movements with associated words, and the end result was a elegantly drawn figure channeling some form of lightning. The scroll was detailed with guidelines in an archaic script that had been prolific in the kingdom around a century before.

"This is magic! Instructions on how to control magic!" Arcturus' eyes glistened with triumph, "Melk. Do you know what this means?"

Melk tilted his head, looking over the instructions curiously, "huh? Umm... it means that... she confiscated this from someone?" he asked, rather uncertain as to what Arcturus was getting at. "Can you even read this? It's super old, what does it say to do?"

He couldn't really help but be curious about it. Something made him almost want to try it out, an inner burning desire just to lift his hands and-no. He clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from trying to follow any motions drawn.

---

Meanwhile the mysterious visitor was stumbling around the castle, trying to gather her bearings. She wasn't entirely sure where the beast had gone, or if she had vanquished it or not. The details were a bit fuzzy but all the same, she would need that blade back.

It had taken some time to escape the nurse and even then she found herself unable to bring her armor with her. She felt rather bare without it, wearing only this simple gown that offered no protection should a battle arise. With a sigh the woman glanced left and right down an intersecting hallway. Which way to go next?

“Oh,” Arcturus was slightly disappointed, “Well, I suppose there’s that too. I thought it meant for sure that Moira was practicing magic. Then we could finally be rid of that witch.”

He eyed the scroll warily. “So this is magic. It does look dangerous.” Rifling through the folder, he found another instruction page. This one was a simple set of motions, and the end result invoked some sort of healing. “On the other hand, this one looks like it could be beneficial to the Kingdom. Well, I guess there are temptations to all evils. I don’t know the language, though. I could ask Larik about it.” His curmudgeonly tutor had a gift for all languages.

“We can leave these here for now. I still haven’t given up on them as proof of Moira’s guilt.” Arcturus remembered the beautiful girl he had given his word to help. (Or in his mind, that’s how he remembered it. The gaping was the other way around, in his mind.) “Let’s go check on…the infirmary.”

---

Moira locked up her cabinets, cursing her carelessness. That particular day she had been mounting a search for any information related to the beast she had witnessed. But access to that information was not to be granted to anyone, particular not the adolescent prince. She strode out of the dungeon in a flurry of movement, bound for the castle’s prodigious library.

As she hurried down the hallway, she noticed an unfamiliar figure down the hall. The girl from the night before, the one with the enchanted blade, stood contemplating something. An excellent time for an intervention, Moira thought.

“Excuse me, my lady. But it is customary to present yourself to the King as a foreigner. I appreciate your courage in facing that beast last night, as does the King. He is most interested to speak with you personally.”

---

The girl startled and reached for a weapon that clearly was no longer there. She stared at Moira a moment with suspicion and uncertainty, “… Qu’est ce que c’est?” she shook cobwebs from her head, “I have no cause to speak to any kings. I only require my blade and I will leave this place. Do you have it?”

---

“Ah yes, the infirmary, such interesting things with the infirmary” Melk grinned as he teased, “there’s the beds, and the medicines, and the lovely nurse and nasty smelling things, and bandages and… hmm, I think I’m forgetting something. Now what could it be?”
“Shut up Melk. Help me figure out what to say to her. Do you know anything about girls? More specifically, about gorgeous girls with swords?”

---

“You don’t understand,” Moira’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam, “Refusing to see the King would be an insult. And it would place you under suspicion for a number of treasons…assassination, thievery, even magic.” she said the last word calmly, with every hint of threat in her breath.


The girl tilted her head to the side, confusion crossing her features upon the last word spoken. “What does this land have against magic?”

---

“Girls? Oh yes, I know plenty” Melk nodded and began to unleash his knowledge. “They don’t like it if you call them fat, they don’t like it if you say they’re too skinny. They don’t like it when all you do is joke around but they do want you to be funny-but not if it’s at their expense for some reason. Many of them have some sort of aunt that they absolutely hate having visit-honestly I think they should just stop inviting her over but I suppose you can’t pick your family now can you?”
Melk sighed and shook his head, “First impressions are everything. Don’t go tripping into a pile of horse dung when you say hi, they’ll never forget it-or let you live it down. You’ve got to impress her somehow, do something crazy, but safe, but absolutely preposterous and yet not too much so or she’ll think you’ve lost your mind.”

“Right,” Arcturus scratched the back of his head nervously, “I may have already mucked up on the first impression…I mean, she was kind of shirtless. And may have gawked. Um. I couldn’t help it!” he blushed furiously.

---

“Oh, so you were unawares?” Moira raised her eyebrows challengingly, “The King can explain those policies to you. We have a harsh stance against the Dark Arts, and it is punished immediately and with maximum severity.”

She stepped down the corridor lithely, “The King might be interested in taking a look at that blade of yours. I understand it takes a great deal of power to wield such a weapon.” She let her words take on a double meaning for the girl.

She frowned, gaining a rather dislike for this woman that faced her. "Dark arts and magic in itself are entirely different things. I am bound by the laws of no land aside from that of my forefathers and I recall no such law ever being passed. All my life I have been taught of those ancient lands and their laws that we know, as much as I was taught the way of battle and yes, sorcery. I will not hide it and you would be wise not to challenge me on it"

---

Melk's eyes widened, "You saw her shirtless? Details man-I mean, ahem. Sire." he glanced at a passing maid, then nudged the prince persistently.

Moira felt an momentary rivalery for this strange, impudent girl, and thought upon how easy it would be to crush her that very moment. There was no one around, no questions would be asked when she presented her neck to the Black Gauntlet. But she swallowed her pride for the moment, and recognized a potential colleague.

"You are proud of who you are. But that is most unwise here. Do not mention who you are to the King. Speak nothing of magic, nothing of sorcery," Moira let her honesty show as she softened her eyes, "I do not like the way you speak, and I find you either naive, impudent, or both. But know that I am the one you should fear, and should you put yourself in the King's disfavor, I will have to act. That being said, I am not inclined to seek a fight with you. I implore you to observe the customs and see the King. Your blade will be restored, I will take care of it."

---

"Well, she had beautiful skin...and breasts. And her hair just glided over her body like raven feathers...all glossy, and... she had some sort of tattoo. Anyways, hot stuff, you get the idea," Arcturus was trying to be cool about it, but he was blushing all over, "But she didn't seem too concerned about me. I mean, you would think, after just pretty much flashing me, but she was a lot more worried about her sword. You're right Melk, I need to make a stronger impression."

The girl stood tall, with her head held proud as she watched Moira for a moment. With a bit of a sigh she finally nodded, "I suppose I do have a few questions I could use answers for. I need to figure out where the beast is headed next. Very well. Show me to your king then and we can have this settled quickly."

---

Boobs. Soft, bouncey, round things that were just so damned-"Hmn??" Melk blinked. Oh dear, the prince was talking to him about something else now. He smiled and nodded, trying not to let on that he hadn't been paying full attention.

Moira nodded reasonably, "My name is Moira Seivre. The King you are to address is Uther Pendragon, heir to the royal bloodline." she led the woman down corridors to the throne room. At the door, she nodded to the guards, who opened the doors wide to reveal the spacious chamber.

---

"So, what do you suggest?" he implored, "Should I ask her to, I dunno, spar with me a bit? I mean, she was a warrior....maybe I should ask about that crazy beast thing. Another poor impression, I guess. I didn't really do much to help." he made a face. "What are girls interested in? Fighting things? Magic? Oh wait, that wouldn't go over so well with Dad. Jeez, I hope she doesn't do magic. I dunno. Let's just go find her, okay?"

"uuhhh.... right, yes. Find her." Melk nodded, "Um, doesn't she have to go see your father? Why don't you just hang around him until she shows up and then she can see you being all important and stuff?" He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, "maybe you should ask if she has any cute, shy, friends?"

---

The young woman followed Moira, her eyes glancing left and right along the corridors rather curiously at the decorations. She kept trying to get a closer look on the royal crest that seemed to be on many things, yet it was difficult to do so while keeping up pace with Moira.

As they entered the large chamber of the throne room, the girl stood up straight and tall, moving with all the elegance of a noble blooded woman and more.

The man sitting upon the throne was neither handsome nor ugly. He had given up on trying to salvage his loss of hair and thus took to shaving it all off regularly. He was clad in the most rich of purple robes and while he did have a bit of a stomach he was also clearly still well built. His steely blue eyes looked down upon the pair as they entered with a nod of approval towards Moira while the girl still gained a curious eye-particularly when she did not immediately bow.