Treachery From The Finest

## A Backstab

  Red... Red stains marked his clothes. Sprawled on the floor, the former master lay, eyes wide. Around him, striped oak walls echoed the fading sound of death. His blood dripped off Serpentine’s dagger. The only sound, Serpentine’s tears of realization tapped on the mat. Serpentine spun his neck, his ears barely catching the sliding of quick footsteps on the wood floor followed by the creaking of the door behind Serpentine. He squinted as daylight shone on the room and heinous crime. “Father...  Father?” questioned a boy. A metallic smell filled the air. “You monster!” screamed the boy as it dawned on him. As the boy’s eyes widened, the door shook behind him, and those same sliding footsteps echoed. Serpentine pushed himself off the floor and grasped the door handle. The door creaked as the room was emptied of its last living person.

## The Arcane Truth

‍  He grabbed the edge of the bookshelf, his head barely visible in the shadow of the bookshelf. Around the corner, stood a robed figure. Their robes flowed as if 'twas wheat in the wind. Ruby stripes ran down a gold cape. Centered, was a gleaming iron sword through a fractured skull, the insignia of the Asakura Clan. Along the edges of both the hood and cape, written on a sewn-on sunset orange ribbon, black text of an enchanting language blessed the wearer. In their hand, a wooden staff stood tall, its glassy white orb giving it a wind aura. At the top, the wood transformed into a U that levitated the orb. The robed figure nodded to something the other Royal Mage said. He lowered to a crouch and pulled back to the shadows of the bookshelf. He edged around the other side of the bookshelf.

‍  “He’s of suspicion,” whispered the first mage.”

‍  “What of the bloodlust curse?” whispered the second mage. Serpentine put his hand on his dagger, a gift from the former master. The blade’s grooved grey metal handle felt cold from the atrocities committed. The stone hilt had saved his life countless times. The iron blade shone from countless times of cleaning, its point centered at the top slightly stained from the recent backstab.

‍  “They know not. I’ve spent innumerable years studying magic.” whispered the first mage. Serpentine clenched the dagger and drew it. An abrupt silence cut through the air. The two mages turned to his area. He clawed at the bookshelf with his dagger repeatedly, leaving several marks. He ran his hand along the books. The shuffling of robes sweeping the floor gradually grew. He locked his hand on a steady book and pushed against it. The book fell. The shuffling sound quickened. He wiped the sweat off his hands. He inhaled, clawed again, and closed his hand around a dictionary, this time, as he pushed, he launched up onto the side of the bookshelf. He reached onto a vacant slot and pulled himself up. He stepped onto a book and stepped onto the top of the bookshelf. He lied down on his front on the bookshelf, and sluggishly put one arm in front of the last. The shuffling of robes sounded right around the corner of the bookshelf. He lifted himself out of his crawl and crouched to the shadowed area. The shuffling sound rounded the corner. He took his foot out of the light and waited.

ㅤ“See, it’s nothing,” assured the second mage as they turned their head to the aisle.

‍ㅤ“Then what is this?” countered the first mage. The first mage had crouched, their hand partially inside of a hole in the books.

ㅤ”Must’ve been the master’s son,” speculated the second mage. “I always knew he was terrible.”

ㅤ”Hush, you fool!” chided the first mage. “Talk like that is a one-way trip to the Nether. [WIP]