"What a quaint little trick for a quaint little girl," Nizam said, pulling himself out of the wreckage. He quickly realized that his concealing cloak was no longer on him, exposing his dark, olive skin now covered in dust and ash from the fireplace.
His black and violet robes flowed about him with a strange aura, like he was under water but standing on dry land. They wrapped and wreathed around him in true Harutian fashion, but the now-exposed robes emanated a subtle and diffused mana from them.
"You know, I had once longed for the title of Kingslayer, though I suppose I'll have to make do with Queenslayer instead," he spat, raising his hand toward the window, summoning three others dressed in similar attire. These, however, had masks grotesquely modeled after their former victims.
No, those are their former victims, Gwili thought, noticing the treated, human skin stitched tightly across a metal plate.
"Get them, but leave Leona alive!" Nizaam commanded. "I'll cover you, go!" Thorsen said, readying a one-handed sword in his right hand while backhanding a seax in his left, both of which could have easily been two-handed weapons for a normal man. Gwili picked Leona up and bolted out of the room using his mana-enhanced speed.
"Bravado seldom favors the foolish. Kill this one, then meet me near the exit as planned," Nizaam said tiredly, beginning to chase after the pair, but was immediately cut off by the giant who abruptly appeared before him. "Do you really think this is fair?" Thorsen asked, his head tilting in curiosity.
His tone carries no fear? With his unpredictable speed, perhaps that is merely overconfidence in his voice, Nizaam thought momentarily.
"Fair? In my line of work, you don't win by fighting fairly," Nizaam scoffed, pausing to observe the giant's demeanor. "You thought I meant fair for me? I meant for your men," Thorsen said, his brows twisted to match his wry grin.
"I have you surrounded and outnumbered four to one. Do you really think you can win when your elven coward could barely stand against me in single combat?" Nizaam asked, spreading his arms.
"The only things around me are the corpses and entrails of your men that are about to hit the stones beneath my feet in the name of my queen," Thorsen said, his eyes flaring with mana as he dashed forward.
Using his backhanded seax to swat away one of the figures' dual blades, he brought his sword down arcing behind it to cleave his opponent in half. The second figure attacked with a short sword from the side, but the giant, moving absurdly fast for his size, twisted around and caught the blade aimed for his liver with the seax.
Twirling his own sword around his hip, he quickly skewered the second attacker, using the seax together with his sword to rip his enemy's torso apart, and sending the peeled halves flying while simultaneously making a clear path to his next target. As he dashed through the blood still hanging in the air, he deflected the next attack aimed for his throat with his seax, sliding it along the length of his opponent's blade, and burying the point deep into his skull.
Thorsen used his sword to sever the limp corpse in half, letting the skewered remains hang limply off his seax as the blood-soaked giant menacingly stepped towards Nizaam. The entrails that now fell to the floor squelched and twisted as the giant stepped forward, dragging them loosely behind him. "Still think that was a fair fight?" Thorsen said, towering over Nizaam and glaring downwardly at him.
"You gave my hashishin quick enough deaths to pique my interest. Fine. I will fight you in solo-combat, but if I win, I'll earn the Queenslayer namesake after all," Nizaam said, readying his blade. Thorsen merely grunted in response, using one blade to scrape the impaled body off the other, dropping the hunk of flesh onto the blood-soaked floor.
Nizaam sidestepped the fresh puddle of his men's blood to ensure stable footing, while Thorsen merely observed with his brows furrowed. Without much warning, Nizaam dashed forward, swinging his curved, black sword, creating arcs of sharp wind behind it, making each attack more like two.
Damn it, even though he only has the one sword, it's like his sword has a delayed attack, Thorsen noticed as he was being forced to use his now-mana-infused seax to counteract the slashing wind.
Again and again, Nizaam swung his sword, eventually pushing the giant back with both his speed and frequency of attacks, putting Thorsen quickly on the backfoot as small cuts began to appear through the linen shirt he was wearing.
He's trying to push me towards the window, isn't he? Fine, then, the giant noted, an idea sprouting in his mind.
Deflecting a series of attacks aimed for his torso, Thorsen willingly moved backwards towards the window, hoping his plan would work. "I thought you'd be more entertaining than this, but I suppose a quick death is all you'll earn today," Nizaam said, his confidence beginning to shine through his scarlet eyes as he unleashed another barrage of slices and cutting wind.
Stepping through the entrails of his former comrades, even the blood on the floor began to be pushed away from the amount of force he was putting behind his swings.
Just a little more, Thorsen thought, gauging the remaining distance to the window without answering his assailant.
"Oh, come now, surely this isn't all you can do. There's no way you're already burned out from slaughtering my men. I might earn the titles of Queenslayer and Giant-killer tonight," the hashishin said, now grinning wildly. "I'm not, but what was it you said earlier? Bravado seldom favors the foolish?" Thorsen asked, a wry grin now on his face eliciting a questioning look from Nizaam.
Schlick.
Suddenly feeling abnormally warm around his neck, he paused his attacks, stumbling a step or two backwards in pure, unadulterated shock.
What? Who could've possibly…? Nizaam thought, putting a hand to his wound and turning around to find none other than Leona, his original target, holding a bloodied dagger.
"Bitch," he gurgled, his eyes opening widely. "I've been called worse by lesser men than you. Now, die," she said darkly, kicking his stomach with the ball of her foot and launching him into the giant who stood waiting behind the hashishin. Using both of his blades, Thorsen impaled Nizaam, bringing him along as he jumped out of the window.
His eyes glowed intensely, as he pushed an immense amount of mana into his legs to kick off the top of the gigantic windowsill, generating enough speed in the process to look like a meteor striking the cobblestones several stories below.
Leona, now being followed closely behind by Gwili, moved towards the broken window and peered below. She found Thorsen in a deep crater coated in a sheen of blood and entrails. "He's dead, your majesty," the giant called up with a raised thumb from below, dripping with chunks of brain matter and other unidentifiable pieces of the splattered corpse.
Wha-ha-haaat the fuck… Gwili thought, gazing at the giant as he whistled critically.
Leona slumped into a chair that sat in the corner of the bedroom, and put her hands to her forehead, her eyes widened and face paled as she took in the sight around her. "I did my best to ignore it on the way in, but this is ridiculous," she thought, staring at the disemboweled corpses strewn about her room.
It wasn't the visuals that triggered her, however. Instead, it was the sudden waft of opened intestines flowing straight into her nostrils because of the open window that forced her to puke.
Gwili stifled a chuckle as he held her hair. "First time? I was surprised you weren't shitting through your teeth earlier, your majesty," he said in a sardonic, yet light-hearted tone. "N-no. Sh-shut up," she heaved, once more, drawing a chagrined smile from the elf as he nodded his acknowledgement.
The bloodsoaked giant reappeared in the doorway a few moments later only to find Leona sitting pale faced in the chair. "I apologize for the mess, your majesty," he said humbly, one hand still on the hilt of his sword. "It's f-fine. I'm fine," she struggled, paused, then raised her index finger before hurling once more. "Let's get her somewhere a little less covered in blood, no?" the giant asked.
A few moments later, and after having grabbed Thorsen a set of towels to wipe the blood off his face, the three were gathered in one of the guest rooms. "So, what now? It took them months upon months to attack us, and we still don't know a fucking thing about them," Gwili asked openly, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"They knew our habits, guard rotations, backgrounds. Everything. The most we got out of them was what the color of their insides looked like," he continued, eliciting a stifled heave from Leona, still reeling in shock. "We know one thing for sure," Thorsen began, using a third, moistened towel. "What might that be?" the elf asked, lifting his head.
"We know they were Harutian, without a doubt. Which means one of two things: That whoever sent these hashishin are either in that country, or have contacts in that country who knew how to employ them," Thorsen said, his serious tone weighing heavily in the air.
"But who would send fighters such as those to kill our queen? What reason would they have to do that? They spent months here without making a fucking sound, and they chose now? Something isn't adding up," he said, the frustration evident in his voice.
"Because of Bashir," Leona said, her hair covering most of her face. "The manwhore prince? What the fuck would he have to do with it?" Gwili asked, spreading his arms widely. "Not what, but more like who," she replied, letting her words hang. "What do you mea-... O-oh… I-I see. Well, that does explain a lot," he replied, wanting to move on quickly after recalling the entire situation on the Rhydian pass with Gorm, Commander Ari, and Bashaa.
"If that's the case, then there's only one person who could've sent them," Gwili began, eliciting raised eyebrows from both of his counterparts. "Zari Ibn'Escya? Bashaa's widow? Oh, come now, you don't know who she is?" he asked, more confused than they were. "No, but I'm about to find out," Leona pushed her palms off her knees as she stood up. "Wh-what do you mean, your majesty? Surely, you can't mean…" he began, but was halted by a raised palm.
"I do. Send a message to Bernar so that he knows what transpired here. As for the three of us, well… We're going to pay her a visit," Leona said sternly.