The winter moon hung high over the Canolfan Adventurer’s Guild, the brilliant orb bathing the whole of the city in its pale light. Even as the hours stretched on, the traffic in and out of the massive building remained steady, as adventurers set off for epic heroism – or more comfortable beds than the Guild’s apartments offered – and hopeful clients came to bargain wages in the hopes that their request would end up on one of the dozens of tablets that hung from the main hall’s job board. Ruiha slid one of the clay plates across a table, a wide grin splitting her face as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Come on, Olev. I know you’re between jobs right now and this one is just begging for a warrior-priest sort.” The man snorted as he took a long draft from his mug, his other hand pulling the tablet closer to him. “This job? Yeah. No. You’re on your own.” “Why? I bet you’re looking for a job that isn’t ‘please kill this deadly monster and bring back it’s horn slash scales slash feathers slash treasure hoard so I can give it to my beloved as a Solstice gift.’” She leaned back as she took a drink from her own mug, trying not to look too desperate. Shaking his head, Olev wiped the foam from his upper lip. “One, because this job pays terrible. Two, because dealing with ghosts and devils and curses that show themselves on Solstices is not something I want to do. Three, because I’m never working with you again.” Ruiha rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You’re still mad?” “Yes,” he said, pushing the tablet back. “Find some other holy sort to help you out.” Setting the mug back down and sinking back into her chair, Ruiha sighed. “I already tried. I don’t know too many priests who deal with the undead.” Clasping her hands in front of her in mock prayer, she continued, “Please? You’re my last resort, Olev. This job’s important to me and time’s running out. I’ll go tithe at Gulbrand’s temple or whatever it is your lot does.” “Not a chance.” “Fine. Then you know anyone who might be up for it?” Olev snorted. “For fifteen hundred dolas?” “I don’t need need to go fifty-fifty on this one. Two thousand for them, one for me. Faithless fires, I’ll even go twenty-five hundred for them.” “Still not a lot to be cleansing a vengeful spirit on the Solstice.” Ruiha threw up her hands, a surge of irritation causing her right arm to glow like an ember. “You know, for a priest? You are awfully focused on the pay.” “Gulbrand encourages his faithful to earn and indulge life’s pleasures.” He grinned, showing his missing front teeth, as he spread his arms to the empty plates and mug in front of him. “A good battle, followed by a good meal, a good drink, and a good fuck is a prayer unto him.” “Just answer the damn question,” she said, sighing. The answer was obvious. Priests from ascetic orders really didn’t tend to get licensed as adventurers. But she could still hope. The man drummed his fingers across the table, scanning the hall. “Well, they’re no priest, but I do know someone who might take the job if the client’s right.” He leaned back a little in his chair, pointing a thick finger towards the corner of the room. “See her over there?” Standing up, Ruiha had to crane her neck to see past the milling adventurers. In the far corner, at the edge of one of the big tables there was a woman sitting all by her lonesome. At this distance, it took her a moment for the vulpine ears and tail to register. “The Kin?” “Yeah. Try talking to her. She can deal with the dead and she might be willing to work on the cheap.” [hr] Yseult sat at the end of the table, warming her hands on the mug of cocoa as she meditated on the day, her tail swaying to the rhythm of her thoughts. The Solstice ranked high among her least favorite times of the year, the job board filling with asinine requests not worth her time. Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that she still needed to make some money to pay for her guild apartment. With a sigh she lifted the hot beverage to her lips, testing it before she took a drink, savoring the sweetness. “Yseult?” someone behind her asked. Putting the drink back down, she turned in her seat, “Yes?” The woman standing behind her beamed as she fanned herself with one of the board’s tablets. An odd thing to do given the chill that hung in the air despite the grand fireplace, as well as the fact that she was dressed more for summer than the snowy season. “I was wondering if you might be willing to partner up for a job? Olev said you might be looking for this sort of work.” She ran over names in her head until she arrived at that one: big man, priest of the barbaric Gulbrand. “What sort of job...?” she asked, leaving room for the woman to identify herself. “Ruiha. And it’s just a little exorcism of a vengeful spirit. There’s a noble with this old keep that’s apparently gonna die the night of the Solstice because a ghost is coming to kill him.” Yseult held out her hand and took the tablet, reading it over herself. The job didn’t pay much, but she didn’t need much. “So, I figure with me and a druid—” “I’m not a druid,” Yseult offered, not even making a token effort to keep the ice out of her voice as she continued to read. “Huh?” “I’m not a druid. Nor am I ranger. Nor am I a thief.” Her ears twitched as she continued, “I am a paladin. Yseult Valorheart.” “Seriously?” She could feel Ruiha’s eyes running over her, confirming that she was indeed Kin. “You’re a paladin?” “The ears and the tail do not disqualify one,” she growled as she flipped the tablet over, trying to focus on the client’s personal statement rather than her growing annoyance. Workers and attendants from a poor holding cobbling together the funds to seek aid in sparing their lord from a vengeful spirit that took the life of his father before him. Ruiha was silent for a long moment. “Well, I mean, I didn’t figure that, just… you know? Not a common calling.” “I am well aware.” Turning the tablet over again and again in her hands, she considered her options. “Why are [i]you[/i] taking this job?” “I can’t be interested in doing a good deed for some poor, down on his luck lord?” Yseult turned back to her cocoa, offering the tablet over her shoulder. “Not interested in working with a liar.” “Fine, fine, fine!” Ruiha sat next to her rather than taking the tablet back. “You know, this is why nobody actually invites you paladins to jobs.” Yseult ignored her. “There’s a magic sword that’s supposed to belong to the Poulin family – Rimeshard. I collect elemental weapons, it’s a classic, and I want it. And no, before you ask, I’m not planning on stealing it, so don’t worry your stuffy conscience about that. I just figure if I save this guy’s live, he might hand it over because his honor demands it or something.” Finishing off her cocoa, Yseult nodded. “He might.” “So?” Yseult’s tail twitched as she considered it. This was the sort of job that would sit on the job board until it expired, she doubted Ruiha would take the job without a partner, and she could probably count the number of other adventurers in the Canolfan Guild who’d take what amounted to a charity job on one hand. “Fine.” “Seriously?” Standing up, Yseult started for the job desk to officially take it, a part of her wishing she could just steal the job and handle it herself without violating her Code. “Yes. I shall assist you in protecting the life of Lord Poulin.” She stopped and turned to face the woman, offering her hand. “We shall split the listed reward fifty-fifty. You are free to request the sword, so long as you do so lawfully and without duress.” Ruiha clapped her hands and cheered before she took the outstretched hand, her grip strong and almost hot to the touch. “Great! You go get that put in then, I’ll get us on the next rail to Etwall, and then it’s a good half-day hike out to his holdings and that’ll put us in a day before the Solstice: plenty of time to make sure things are on the up and get ready.” Yseult nodded, rubbing the sword and shield pendant that hung from her neck. No real need to supply if this job was taking them to an active, if failing, freehold. Some food from the Guild’s shop in case of emergencies “I am ready to depart as soon soon as you are.” [hr] The wind howled outside the small and empty house. The thin walls did little to keep out the chill – as evidenced by the thick coat Yseult had wrapped herself in the moment they’d left the train – but Ruiha welcomed the winter’s chill on her bare arms. “Is your companion quite sure she’s warm enough?” the old woman seated before them asked, pulling her own fur wrapping tighter. “She is quite content, Mistress Sault. Please, share your Lord’s woes with us. Time is short.” The old woman looked between the two of them, no doubt trying to decide if a fox-looking Kin and a woman wearing short sleeves and short pants in mid-winter were the right ones for the job. It was a look adventurers got used to, and one that often signaled they wouldn’t be getting the job. Yseult bowed her head and flattened her ears. “Mistress Sault, I swear to you not just as a warrior of Armon the name of my father, Lord Giles of Lenax, that so long as my heart beats, I shall do everything within my power to protect your Lord from this curse that haunts him. I ask that you judge us not by our strange seeming, but rather by our words and deeds.” Ruiha stared at her, caught off by the Kin’s sudden speech. “Uh, yeah, what she said.” The old woman’s expression softened a bit and her tone changed into something approaching reverence. “You are of noble birth, milady?” Yseult shook her head and, to Ruiha’s surprise, the old woman’s expression didn’t change. If anything, her voice softened further. “Lord Poulin’s great grandfather was… not a good man,” she said, sighing and pulling her furs even tighter around her. “He slew his brother, the first Lord Poulin, to take this land, and was in turn slain for his crimes. The land was restored to the main family line but, after the war, it was deprived of its lord once more. It was then that Lord Poulin was found and granted the lands.” “Geeze,” Ruiha muttered, leaning on the table. “Quite the sordid little history this land’s got. No wonder there’s an angry ghost waiting in the wings.” “Quiet,” Yseult growled, her tail flicking as she gave her a sidelong glare. “Please continue, Mistress Sault.” “A year ago, on the night of the Solstice, the spirit of the first Lord Poulin appeared in the hall, promising that, should Lord Poulin not renounce his title and the lands, he would pay for the crimes of his bloodline. He was granted one year to make his choice and face the consequences.” “And your Lord stayed behind because…?” Ruiha asked, ignoring the Kin’s continued glare. The old woman shook her head, finally deigning to look at Ruiha with something best classified as undisguised disdain. “Because, young woman, he is an honorable man and the bedrock upon which we’ve built our lives. He has invested what little remained in his own personal fortunes into rebuilding these lands, struggling to wash away the stains of his great grandfather. To run from this is unthinkable to him.” Holding out her hands, Ruiha leaned back. “Okay, I get it, I get it. Honor thing. Don’t mind me, just collecting facts. Continue.” The old woman looked away from her, returning her focus to Yseult. “I… must warn you. This request does not come from Lord Poulin. We have not even told him we sent a message to the Adventurer’s Guild.” Her throat wobbled as she swallowed. “We know it is inappropriate, but he has done so much for us. He is a brave man, but no warrior.” “Speak no further, Mistress Sault,” Yseult said, taking the old woman’s hand with her own and squeezing. “There is no shame in loving one’s lord, nor is there shame in calling upon allies in your time of need. Take us to him.” [hr] Lord Poulin was a stick thin man, made to look even thinner by the wide chair he occupied in his office. Mistress Salut had that much right: the man was no warrior. Still, Yseult recognized the determination in his eyes, the same look she had so often seen in her fellow adventurers when they set their eyes on a prize. She bowed, snapping Ruiha’s leg with her tail to get the woman to follow suit. “Marcelle? Who are these strangers?” he asked, turning to face Mistress Sault. “Adventurers, milord,” she answered, unable to lift her gaze from the floor. “They have come to defend you from the curse which threatens your life.” The man offered her a tired smile. “Marcelle…” “Lord Poulin,” Yseult interjected, stepping forward, praying that Ruiha would be wise enough to keep her mouth shut during this exchange. “I have had the opportunity to hear of your bravery and wish to offer my service to you.” The man tilted his head. “And who might you be?” “Yseult Valorheart.” He pursed his lips, the question beginning to form, but she pushed on, “I would consider it an honor for you to accept my services, as well as those of my companion, as you prepare for battle against this ghastly enemy who seeks your life.” Lord Poulin sat back, shutting his eyes. “I cannot. I have no doubt that Marcelle has already told you that this… spirit seeks to avenge the dishonor inflicted upon it by my great grandfather. To allow others to be injured in my defense is something I cannot allow.” “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna kill you,” Ruiha said, stepping forward. Yseult bristled, her ears flattening as she glanced back at the woman. Why did so many adventurers have to be so stupid? “If that is what happens, then I shall at least have died doing what is right.” “Does that actually count for much when you’re dead?” “What my companion is trying – and failing – to say is that facing this phantasm alone,” she interjected, offering a look back towards Ruiha that she hoped conveyed the message to shut her mouth, “Will not cleanse the stain upon your family name, nor will it bring you honor.” “And what would a Kin know of honor?” the man snapped, his face reddening. “You are sellswords from Canol, what understanding do you have of Royaume’s affairs?” “More than you, it would seem, Lord Poulin.” Yseult took a deep breath before she continued. “My father, Lord Giles of Lenax, taught me that a lord does not have the luxury of placing his personal honor or that of his family name foremost in his mind. His responsibilities are to the people under his care and the kingdom above him. To throw one’s life away over a matter of honor is to forget that fact.” Lord Poulin’s breathing slowed as he listened, anger giving way to embarrassment. “Your people offer their livelihoods to protect you, knowing you for a good and righteous man as yourself who will lead them to prosperity.” Her gaze didn’t shift away from Lord Poulin, bearing down upon him, crushing his anger and indignation with her righteous self-assurity. “You already repent for the actions of your great grandfather by trying to bring these long suffering lands to glory once more. Do not undo that with the misplaced notion that your honor demands you die in a hopeless battle against a vengeful spirit.” Lord Poulin’s hands rested on the desk as he struggled to hold Yseult’s gaze, the red fading from his face. “Let those who have mastered swords and sorcery be the ones to face the mortal threat. Accept us as your champions.” The ancient clock in the corner ticked, each second echoing in the pregnant silence. Lord Poulin finally looked away. “You are right.” Yseult bowed. “I knew you would understand, Lord Poulin.” [hr] Ruiha sat on the edge of her bed, grinning at her Kin companion. “That was great. You manipulated the hell out of him.” “I did no such thing,” Yseult said, not bothering to open her eyes from her cross-legged position on the floor. “You most certainly did!” she protested. “I’ve done jobs for those honor types before, and I’ve never, ever seen one handled so deftly. Usually I just end up agreeing to their particular insanities then going behind their back anyway.” She watched Yseult’s tail, waiting for the telltale twitch of irritation. “Seriously though, that was impressive. You really nobility?” “No.” That caused Ruiha to hesitate. “You lied?” “No.” She could hear the irritation creeping into the Kin’s voice, something she heard so rarely that she had to keep pushing. “You realize you have to explain that now, right?” One of the Kin’s eyes cracked open. “No.” Leaning back on her hands, Ruiha shook her head. “You know, even by paladin standards, you seem to have a serious stick up your ass. Not that I’ve worked with many, but some of them at least made a little small talk. You know, discussed the job, how we were gonna handle it, what their secret backstory is.” Yseult finally turned around. “I don’t see much reason to discuss the job. The reason you invited me along was to do the job for you, wasn’t it?” “Hey now—” “I checked your public records when I signed us up for the job.” The Kin resettled into her meditative stance. “You have an unusually high record of drop outs – all justified by job exceeding the scope of the request, of course. In addition, you’ve only done a handful of jobs with less than a five person team. You don’t take challenging jobs. You like to be safe and let other people carry your weight. That is likely why you asked me for help: you’re running out of people willing to work with you.” Ruiha felt like she had been slapped, staring mouth agape at the back of the Kin’s head. “Don’t worry. I will make sure the job gets done.” The heat in Ruiha’s heart burned, every thump pushing fire through her veins and filling her body with barely contained anger. Years of training kept it from exploding out of her, but it didn’t stop the words from bursting out, “What is your problem? ” “My problem is that so many adventurers are just like you. Your interest is profit. You make assumptions.” Her voice stayed calm, but her tail flicked back and forth like an angry snake. “People think because I’m a Kin that I’m vacuous and impetuous. That these ears and tails say I must be a thief, or deceptive, or tricky. Even on learning my true calling, they continue to assume things about me.” Grinding her teeth, Ruiha pointed. “And? What about you? You’re complaining about people making assumptions, but you’re gonna go and say all that about me?” “You haven’t proven me wrong.” Her fist clenched, a little fire building inside it as she threw herself back to the bed, turning away. A day or so more with the snobby, hypocritical fox, the job would be done, she’d figure out a way to get Rimeshard, she could take her own train back to Canolfan, and start hunting for the next job. [hr] The pair of them sat at the table in the main hall, listening to the crackling of the fire in the fireplace as the shadows danced around the darkened room. The wind outside howled and shrieked, the mild snow flurries having transformed into a raging blizzard over the last day and a half. Lord Poulin sat at the head of the table, staring at the door that lead to the courtyard. Presumably the place the spirit would come from if it were the conventional kind. “Only a few minutes before the vengeful spirit is supposed to show itself,” Ruiha said, pushing herself up, letting a little more heat flow through her veins to make sure she wasn’t too cold to use her magic. Yseult nodded, grasping her pendant as she mumbled something beneath her breath. A column of white light enveloped her, fading after a moment and revealing that her clothes had been replaced with a suit of silver armor, complete with a small shield and sword fastened to her sides. “I am ready.” “Impressive,” Lord Poulin said. “It’s just an arms calling charm,” Ruiha muttered. She glanced over her shoulder towards the lord, her eyes coming to rest on the simple sword resting beside his wine. “And you make sure you stay out of the way. You agreed to let us champion you, so no getting yourself killed.” “You are my champions,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I would like to go unarmed.” “A wise choice,” Yseult said, pulling the weapon she had chosen for this occasion – the sword, Flame Eater – free of it’s scabbard. The shine that ran its length completely independent of the room’s light didn’t go unnoticed either. Pretty good odds it was enchanted. Not elemental. Given Yseult, probably something holy? Or maybe it just reinforced that stick up her ass. It felt like the Kin hadn’t even looked at her since last night. She drew on the anger, stoking the inferno in her heart, and storing it the blade at her side. Odds were any spirit appearing on the WInter Solstice was going to be ice aligned, which meant Ruiha would have the edge. The Kin would not be walking away from this encounter think she’d done all the work. Somewhere in the depths of the empty keep the clock chimed the night’s final hour. Nothing happened. Yseult’s armor clanked as she shifted. “Suppose the clock was fast?” Ruiha offered. “Not that fast,” Yseult said. “Look at the fire.” Where a raging fire had once stood there were now only ice crystals resembling the dancing flames. Frost began to spread along the stone around them, the air’s temperature plummeting to the point that even Ruiha could feel it once more. “Show yourself, Mathis!” Lord Poulin demanded, trying unsuccessfully to keep from shivering. “My great grandfather may have murdered you, but now I try to return your lands to prosperity! Abandon this senseless grudge.” The door to the hall froze, then cracked, the sound echoing through the empty keep. “No such luck, huh?” Ruiha muttered, her right arm beginning to glow. The door shattered. Ruiha didn’t hesitate, unleashing her fire, the blazing inferno rushing down her arm and through the door, vaporizing the frozen wood even as it fell. Feeling the air cool almost instantly, she threw herself to the floor, barely avoiding an icicle as thick as her fist and as long as a spear. “Power, but nothing more” a voice sneered as a man stepped through the vacant portal. Or, at least, at first glance it looked like a man, until one saw the ice creeping along its armor or the skeletal face with the red eyes. “This is the best that the last Poulin can muster in his defense? I shall be doing our family line a favor by erasing you.” Yseult stepped forward, her blade glowing like a small sun as she levelled it towards the spirit. “Begone, phantom.” The speed of her lunge took Ruiha by surprise, the Kin closing the gap in a moment, but the phantom moved faster, an ice blue blade deflecting her own. Rimeshard. The spirit had the damned weapon. “Begone, beast,” the phantom said “Yseult, dodge, don’t block!” The Kin’s started to raise her shield, but instead she leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding the blade, as well as the shower of spear-like icicles that followed the blade’s arc, shattering against the stone. Ruiha rushed forward, flames trailing her arm. “That’s Rimeshard! It can call those icicles from any direction with every strike,” she shouted, this time calling the fire directly beneath the phantom’s feet. To her surprise, it didn’t dodge, a single strike dissipating the flames, and the raging fire around Ruiha evaporating the icicles that tried to strike her. In the same moment, Yseult rushed forward once more, slamming her shield into the phantom to knock it off balance, then following with a thrust that tore through it’s armor and pierced it’s body. The phantom howled as it fell back, putting distance between itself and Yseult’s weapon. “Perhaps I have underestimated the beast and the hothead,” it snarled, ignoring Yseult as she moved forward for the finishing strike. The air around them crystallized. [hr] Yseult blade embedded itself tip deep into the ice where the spirit of vengeful spirit of Mathis Poulin had once stood, the shock of the unexpected impact sending pain shooting through her arm. Through the wall she could see the distorted shape of the grand hall, but something seemed off: the distance to the walls looked impossibly far away. Despite the apparent lack of the spirit, her sword’s blade still glowed as if it were nearby. “Lord Poulin?” she called, trying to get her bearings. “Ruiha?” Her voice echoed into the distance, unanswered by anything but the occasional crack of shifting ice. She had underestimated the strength of this grudge. A spirit that had been purging its descendants for generations she would understand possessing power to pull them into the place between worlds, but this? Affairs of anger and honor could be truly terrible things. The spirit had separated them so it could engage her and Ruiha alone. She doubted it would seek Lord Poulin’s life while they lived. Twisted as they were, these sorts of spirits still carried with them the convictions they held in life. To slay Lord Poulin while his champions drew breath would be shameful, admitting that they were stronger than he. But who would he come for first? Her or Ruiha? Something caught her gaze, a movement in the ice. A man walking swiftly, his face turned away from her. “To think Lord Giles is so desperate for an heir that he would bring their kind into his house.” She shivered. “He debases himself,” another said as another shadow flittered through the ice. “Fancy a chicken little fox?” “No doubt she’s a thief.” “A liar, I’m sure.” “When shall he send the little vixen back to her own kind?” “Kin have no place in the courts of Royaume.” “Send her away before your name is irreparably stained, Lord Giles.” Yseult shook her head as she dropped to a knee, one hand clutching the pendant around her neck. “Is this how you challenge us, phantom? With ancient wounds? Things the heart fears to hear?” [hr] Flames splashed against the ice as Ruiha tried again and again to melt the wall, the cold seeping into her body as the heat left it, draining her strength while the ice still reflected her face with a perfect mirror sheen. “Faithless fires,” she gasped. “Why not just run?” someone whispered behind her, forcing her to spin. “Run before the others do,” came a different voice, again behind her. “She saw through you,” a third said. “Shut up!” she shouted, letting the heat explode out of her to no effect. Pressing her hand to the wall, she focused everything she had into it. Ice was ice. Even magical ice could be melted with enough heat. “You are too weak.” “That is why you lean on others.” “Your power is an accident. Unearned.” Ruiha sagged. “Please, shut up.” “How many more times can you run before they all realize it?” The cold squeezed her heart as she slid down to her knees. “The job doesn’t matter. Your allies don’t matter. You matter.” In the icy reflection a shape loomed behind her, a blue blade raised. [hr] The light around Yseult’s blade intensified as she lifted into the air. “The darkness of the dead holds no place in our world. Begone!” The icy walls shattered, the world around her contracting as the keep’s main hall snapped back into reality, much as it had been left. Lord Poulin still stood by the table, pale and shaking, while Ruiha— Yseult moved without thought, her shield arm smashing the Rimeheart aside before it took the woman’s head, carrying it through to catch the icicle that attempted to impale Ruiha. With her focus diverted, the phantom seized the advantage, it’s free hand touching her armor. Even as she tried to restore her balance and launch an attack, she could feel the rush of burning cold. Her armor shattered. She ignored the pieces of metal as they slashed her skin, instead bring her body around and slamming her shield into the phantom as hard as she could, sending it staggering away from the two of them. “Take Lord Poulin and flee!” “Huh?” “Do not think I will let them go so easily, beast.,” the phantom snarled, recovering his balance. “I can hold him for a time, and he may not be able to manifest outside these lands. Go and go quickly!” Yseult sank low as she lunged, her blade connecting with Rimeshard, the blade’s light entangling with the cold blue glow of the icy sword. “What is this?” the phantom snarled as the light spread, encircling the pair of them, flinching back as it reached out for the golden barrier. “Until one of us falls or yields, this shall be our battlefield, and our battlefield alone,” Yseult said, wiping blood from her cheek. [hr] Ruiha sat, stunned, as the golden light formed a ring around the Kin and the phantom. A duelist enchantment. “Are you stupid?” she managed, trying to push herself to her feet, the cold flowing out of her. Of course, she knew the Kin wasn’t. She had lost her armor. Ruiha’s fire had no effect and she’d caved to that mental assault. They’d lost. But they didn’t all have to die. She moved quickly, grabbing Lord Poulin’s hand and dragging the man along behind her, even as the sounds of sword meeting sword and ice crashing against stone echoed. “What do you think you’re—” “Keeping you alive!” Ruiha hissed, trying to will warmth back into her body. “Spirits like this tend to be bound to an area. If we can get you off these lands, it’s possible it won’t be able to follow.” She cleared steps two at a time, forcing Lord Poulin to make similar leaps unless he wanted to just tumble down after her. “So she’s buying us the time to try just that.” “You would abandon your friend?” he gasped. “Don’t waste time talking, right now! She’s busy getting herself killed so that neither of us do, so it’d probably be a good thing to not waste that, huh?” The voices from the ice echoed in her head. [hr] Yseult circled the phantom, each step measured, looking for some sort of opening that remained hidden from her. Even in death, it seemed Mathis Poulin remained a formidable warrior. “I will give you this, beast. You are a braver warrior than I expected. To face death so that your companion and the man you champion may live is worthy of respect.” “Do not patronize me, phantom. I have no need of your approval, nor do I desire it.” If she could land another blow, she might be able to end this battle. She cursed herself for allowing this battle to reach this point. Perhaps if she and Ruiha had coordinated their assault earlier on they might have been able to best the phantom before it realize the threat they represented. Pride goes before the fall. Without options, she struck first, leading with her shield once more. This time the phantom countered with it’s empty hand, the metal freezing and shattering on impact. Undaunted and unsurprised, she continued forward, thrusting and cutting with a frenzied determination, driving the phantom back towards the edges of the golden arena, every movement focused on preventing counterattacks from the sword, as well as it’s lethal ice spray. Already her movements were beginning to slow, the frigid air taking its toll. An armored kneed slammed into her stomach, lifting her off the ground as it drove the air out of her, then letting her drop flat onto the stone, her sword following her. She didn’t think, rolling to the side and then backwards onto her feet, both blade and icicles missing her by hair’s widths. Diving forward, she managed to get a hand on the hilt of her sword, but the phantom moved quickly, a foot coming down on the blade as she tried to lift it, the sturdy and familiar weapon joining her armor and shield as nothing more than shards of brittle metal littering the floor. [hr] Ruiha shivered as she rushed back into the hall, pouring every ounce of power she could manage into Flame Eater. If this failed, she would be easy pickings for the phantom, but like the hells she’d let Yseult do that whole heroic sacrifice thing for her. “Yseult!” she shouted as the golden ring came into view, the battered and bleeding Kin backed against the edge. The cry caught the attention of both fighters, as did Flame Eater when she threw it, the blade skittering across the floor. The phantom struck, but Yseult took him by surprise, throwing herself into him to avoid both the stroke and ice, causing him to stumble. She lashed out with a foot, forcing him back another step and giving her the room to scoop the blade off the floor. The last of her power expended, Ruiha dropped to the floor. [hr] The heat coming off the blade was palpable as Yseult picked it up and swung in a single smooth motion. The phantom moved it’s own blade to block, but the frozen blade could not match the heated blade, cleaving cleanly through it and the phantom who bore it. The skeletal face managed something approaching surprise for the moment before Ruiha’s blade released its full power, a pillar of white hot flame consuming the phantom. The golden ring faded, alongside the adrenaline that had been sustaining Yseult through the last moments of the battle. Still, she found the strength to keep her feet under her. “Are you alive, Ruiha?” “Yeah,” came the muffled reply, the prone woman even managing to get her hand a little ways off the ground. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Yseult’s ears flattened as she sank to the ground as well. “I believe I destroyed the sword you were seeking.” Ruiha groaned. “Sorry.” [hr] The thick, snow-laden clouds concealed the moon over the Canolfan Adventurer’s Guild, the gentle fall of the flakes coating the city in a white blanket. Still, even as the hours stretched on and the snowfall thickened, the traffic in and out of the massive building remained steady, as adventurers set off for epic heroism – or more comfortable beds than the Guild’s apartments offered – and hopeful clients came to bargain wages in the hopes that their request would end up on one of the dozens of tablets that hung from the main hall’s job board. Ruiha slid one of the clay plates across the table, a wide grin splitting her face as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. “You wanna team up again? Bet we could do better this time.” Yseult sipped at her cocoa, her other hand pulling the tablet closer to her. “This job?” she asked, her tail swaying as she studied it. “Perhaps.”