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This is something I've been putting together for a little while now. If you enjoy, please let me know! I'll release more updates as time goes by! Now, dive into the world of Port Rap and the Council of Virtuous Parley!
There was no warning. The blade pierced the man's heart within just a fraction of a second. The man desperately attempted to decipher the situation. He had no idea how the black blade had wound up inside his chest. What felt like hours went by as his mind raced.
The white-haired man before him was not nearly as patient, however. A crowd had gathered to watch, and all could see the white-haired man's triceps contract, tugging the blade from the man's chest. To the astonishment of the crowd and the wounded man, the triceps in his arm continued to contract, tugging the blade far from the man's body, obviously preparing for another strike.
The white-haired man's smile was heinous; he looked as though he were enjoying the ordeal. His smile grew only wider when he smelled the fear of the crowd. His almond skin was glistening with sweat and his hair began to perk up. His bangs fell to each side of his face as he took his stance.
His right hand tightly gripped the black rapier. Its guard swept around the hilt like tendrils of smoke rising around an incense bowl. Crimson blood dripped from the tip. This was his favorite toy, and it had found a wondrous playmate.
The white-haired man's smile was devious and wry, but his eyes did not match. His eyes reflected nothing of the man inside. They were empty and black -- emotionless, even. They pierced the wounded man even more mercilessly than the rapier had.
His smile faded into a frown. It had only been a few seconds since the rapier had left the man's heart, but he could see that the man's legs would give out any moment now and he would slump to the ground, dead. His fun would be spoiled by the insensitive timing of a mere thug.
He thought to himself, These damn bugs. Why can't they just roll over when you try to smash them. He flexed his arms as he prepared to strike, regardless of the wounded man's condition. The crowd radiated with anticipation and anxiousness, horror and terror, all at the same time.
The man's legs began to give out, and he would taste the dust of the earth from whence he came once more. He knew this, and he began to accept it, believing that he might make peace with himself before his death.
That would not happen. The white-haired man refused to allow it.
In a flash, the white-haired man closed the distance between the two men, with his rapier leading the way. Faster than lightning, the rapier pierced the man five more times, once in each thigh, once in each shoulder, and finally piercing the same hole that it had in the beginning, planting itself firmly in the man's heart yet again.
The man's reaction was not delayed. His screams were cut off by the gargling of blood that had risen into the man's throat. The rapier left his heart yet again, with a spray of arterial blood spurting after the tip. The man fell to the ground instantly and continued to bleed out.
The white-haired man shook the blood from the rapier and sheathed it at his belt. He quickly looked over his regal tunic, attempting to spot any blood that might have found its way to his clothing. Luckily, there was none, so his smile returned to his face.
He turned to the crowd and took a step forward, but something stopped him. He felt a hand clinging to his trousers. Looking back, he saw the dying man on the ground before him. His smile melted back into a frown. "Do you believe that you have the right to beg for mercy when you are already dead?"
The dying man coughed up what blood was left in his throat and mumbled a response, which was too quiet for the white-haired man to hear. With a swift kick to the shoulder, his voice immediately rose, but was accompanied with cries of pain. "Just... who do you think... you are!?"
The question caught the white-haired man by surprise. He felt something bubbling within his stomach as he pondered the question. His head fell back, and his scruffy ponytail shook, with his body following suit. He simply could not hold back his laughter, which he proceeded to allow the crowd that had gathered to hear.
"What's... so funny!?" the dying man spurted out, just moments away from his demise.
The white-haired man cleared his throat and regained his composure. "Ah... it's just that, you and your fellow men can't even connect your actions and this happening. What a blunder." His smile seemed more sincere than it had ever been since the two had met.
At the wounded man's look of confusion, he continued to explain, "Last month, we had a shipment of goods come in from the Lelantos Empire. The shipment was scheduled to be received at the docks here at Port Rap -- but that did not happen. You see, my friend, you and your men were the ones who kept that from happening."
The man's eyes sparked with realization -- and regret. However, that did not stop the white-haired man from explaining further.
"You bothered to challenge the Council of Virtuous Parley without believing there would be consequences. You killed my men. And yet, you still believed you would get away with it?" His laughter rumbled out of him yet again.
"Then... that must mean that you... are--" his voice was cut off by a kick to the face.
"Correct. I am Claude Faute, Guildmaster of the Council of Virtuous Parley, Port Rap's most prominent trading organization. You should be honored that you were killed by someone such as myself, although any one of my subordinates would have been enough for you to meet your end by."
The man let his face fall to the ground. There was a pool of blood that had gathered around him, but he could not feel it. He was cold and numb. He could not move an inch anymore. Of course, he did not want to, either.
He had made a mistake. And he knew it. He looked glanced over at his saber, which never had the chance of even reaching within striking distance of Claude. What a shame, he thought to himself, I didn't even get to scratch his boot. His eyes fell shut and his silence was absolute.
Claude turned back to the crowd, which parted before him as he passed through. He waved his hand in the air and called, "Someone clean this mess up, I have other matters to attend to."
The crowd watched as he made his way towards the city. In awe, they stood, staring in the cobblestone streets on the outskirts of Port Rap, port-town capital of the Yellowdale Kingdom.
In Port Rap, all authority belonged to the Council of Virtuous Parley and its Guildmaster, Claude Faute. His word was law, while his senior officers and his other underlings were the enforcers.
 Ty-Harukii · Wed Jun 21, 2017 @ 08:10pm · 0 Comments |
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