The Swordswoman and the Mage

“She’s *very* pretty.”

The subject of Raelyn’s observation (and really, she hadn’t
even needed to make it, he wasn’t blind) was a woman with a round face and
fluffy blonde hair, standing at the duke’s side. Dante could accept that she
was indeed pretty, but what he found more eye-catching was the fact that she
was clad in full armour, with a sword hanging at her side. One gauntleted hand
rested on it, and the woman’s eyes were sharp as she swept her gaze back and
forth, over the guests that were now beginning to assemble throughout the hall.

“I’m more interested in the fact that she’s apparently a
swordswoman.” Dante reasoned, ignoring his companion’s attempt to screw around,
leaning into the shadows and against the wall so that no-one would see him and
assume that he was talking to himself. (A lot of people had made that mistake.)
“They said that there was a shortage of security. Why would we be hired if they
already had someone lined up?”

Floating by his side, Raelyn shrugged. “Eh, better safe than
sorry?” He could see her seriously consider the matter for maybe a second
longer, before her expression relaxed and she leant backwards, resting her
hands on her head and beginning to expel her usual ambivalent aura. “More to the
point,” she continued, “who gives a shit? Long as they pay us.”

Dante, personally, still wasn’t satisfied, but he supposed
that that was what he got when he asked anything about the oddities of humans
to a demon who was outspokenly disinterested in humanity.

“As long as they pay us.” He agreed. Raelyn was right. It
didn’t really matter.

“You hired a mage.”

Duke made a gesture that was… what it was supposed to imply,
Plue wasn’t sure, but she at least could understand that he was feeling
agitated.

“This is an important occasion.” He reminded her. “The
annual Nexus Ball, it-”

“It’s a sign of unity between the factions and also a night
where some important people are gathered together in one place.” Plue rattled
off, by now more familiar then she would have liked with a lot of the political
workings of her Dukedom and its neighbours. “I understand, I’m just… surprised,
is all.” Her gaze dropped to her sword, as it had a habit of doing when she
didn’t have the energy to look someone in the face during a conversation.
“They’re supposed to be expensive. You can afford that?”

“In the defence of peace, no cost is too great.” Duke
nodded. Plue resisted the urge to roll her eyes – she’d heard that one before.

“If you’re sure.” She said. “I…” She, personally, still thought
that it was overkill, but she knew that bringing it up would just lead to
another lecture from her uncle about the necessity of adequate protection, or
something along those lines. It wasn’t that she didn’t respect the points he
made, or even really disagreed with them; she just wasn’t in the mood to hear
them again. This job was going to be draining enough as it was.

“And you’re sure you’re alright with this job?” Duke
attempted to change the topic, but she waved him off.

“It’s fine.” She assured him. “I’ve done this plenty of
times before. It’s not going to be difficult.”

Duke harrumphed. “I don’t doubt your capability, my girl. I
suppose I- I’m just worried that you never get any chances to enjoy yourself on
nights like these. They’re supposed to be nights of union and celebration, and
here you are, standing in a corner for hours on end. You sure you don’t want to
take a break at some point?”

The thought of ‘taking a break’ definitely had its appeal,
Plue reasoned. But no, she was set in her routine by this point. Better to just
do what she always did. Besides:

“It’s because I stand around in the corner that everyone
else gets to enjoy that, uh, celebration and union.” She reminded Duke. “The
needs of the many, and all that.” She patted the aging man on the back. “Trust
me. I’ll be okay.”

On the subject of standing around in corners… she turned to
look at the mage. There was something suspicious about him, the way he was
skulking in the shadows. Not that she wanted to make any assumptions – but at
the same time, it was slightly strange behaviour.

She shook her head. Maybe it was a mage thing. What did she
know? It didn’t matter anyway.

“Howzit.” Dante blurted unwillingly. The swordswoman glanced
at him with a gaze that was somewhere between ‘curious’ and ‘wholly reluctant
to engage’.

He’d resisted the temptation to say anything for a while,
but the two had been positioned together as the night had dragged on, and as
dancers and conversing nobles had filled up most of every other space. He’d
eventually gone to stand by the doors, which were both a good place to guard
from and a good place to keep out of the way of partygoers, and when he’d
gotten there he’d found that she’d had a similar idea. And after that, they’d
been standing by one another’s side without interacting at all. While he could
respect wanting to be professional and not say anything, Dante had always been
a curious guy. Meeting new people was (almost) always fun! And it didn’t help
that he’d had a literal devil on his shoulder in the form of Raelyn, who’d
spent the last ten minutes trying to convince Dante to pull on the
swordswoman’s hair and then play dumb. As a joke.

(Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.)

“…Hey.” The swordswoman eventually responded. Dante waited a
moment, but it was clear that he was going to have to do the heavy lifting if
he wanted this conversation to get anywhere.

“Sorry,” he began, “if I’m disturbing you, I just- I felt
bad that we were just standing here and not trying to get to know one another,
you know?”

The look on the swordswoman’s face told him that no, she did
not know. A sensible person may have stopped trying there, but one of Dante’s
best talents was a great lack of knowing when to stop.

“You don’t find this boring sometimes?” He indicated to the
ballroom – a great wide-open space packed with a throng of bodies, surrounded
by candles and watched over by gilded chandeliers and a ceiling decorated with
clouds and deities. ‘boring’ felt ironic. “Just… standing by, waiting for
something to happen?”

The swordswoman hummed.

“I… suppose I can see that.” She
admitted – the first words that she’d said to him. “Personally, though, I find
it more tiring than anything else.”

Dante raised an eyebrow, but she
didn’t respond. “Why do you find it tiring?” He prompted.

The swordswoman blinked. “When I’m
here, I always… I always try my best to remain focused.” She explained. “It’s
my job to stay here and keep watch for any potential dangers or accidents, so
that’s what I do. I don’t find it boring, because I’m always on alert, but after
a while it tires me out.”

“Huh.” Dante would be lying if he
said that he’d thought about it from that perspective before. “I’d be lying if
I said that I’d thought about it from that perspective before.” He turned to
face her. “So, I guess you’re on guard, you’re looking at everything pretty… *pointedly*.
Eh?” He nodded at the sword by her side. “Eh?”

It wasn’t quite a full laugh. In
fact, it was barely even a laugh at all. But the swordswoman exhaled harshly,
and cracked a smile. She smiled with her eyes. It was cute.

“That was a bad joke.” She told
him.

“You laughed.” Dante defended his
joke’s honour. Her smile only widened.

“I never said I didn’t like it.”
She pointed out.

Behind Dante, Raelyn barked a
laugh.

“Touché.” Smirked Dante. Their
gazes met – his, and the swordswoman’s – and he could tell in that moment that
a camaraderie, and perhaps even a tentative friendship, had been formed. He
resisted the urge to high-five himself.

And then, he had an idea.

“Hey, so I just had a fun
thought.” He said to the swordswoman. “And feel free to refuse.”

“Oh no.” The swordswoman sounded
like she was on the verge of laughing, which was a contrast to her words. “What
is it?”

“We have a twofold problem, you
and I.” He explained. “I’m bored, waiting for something to happen, and you’re
tired because you’re taking your job super seriously – which I respect!” He
held up his hands placatingly.

The swordswoman folded her own
arms. “And you have a solution to our problems?”

“Indeed, I do.” Dante held out his
hand to the swordswoman. “Fancy a dance?”

It was something of a shot in the
dark, and there were a few worrying moments where the swordswoman (completely
poker-faced) didn’t respond, leaving Dante holding his hand out and feeling
like an idiot. But then, slowly, she reached out and took his hand in her own.
The fact that she was wearing a gauntlet was something different to how he’d
always imagined leading a woman onto a dance floor, but he didn’t mind.

She took a deep breath. “Indeed, I
do.”

There was a not small part of Plue wondering what she was
doing, why she was doing it. She had a job to do, she had to stay alert, and
she’d explained that much to the mage. And yet, she’d accepted his offer.

Perhaps it was because her earlier conversation with Duke
had inspired her, and given her the courage to do it. To break away from her
duty, and from the comfort of routine and repetition, and do something
impulsive. Perhaps it was because the mage was good company – and he was, she
could tell, although they hadn’t spoken very much. He seemed interesting and
bright-minded, but he also seemed kind. She liked that.

Perhaps it was just because she liked to dance.

Whatever the case, she let the mage lead her out onto the
dance floor, cutting through the crowd with relative ease. (Relative being the
operative term – she still had to twist her torso a couple of times to make
sure that her sword and scabbard didn’t get caught on any dresses.)

“You doing alright?” The mage asked her, turning to look
back.

“I’m fine.” She assured him. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Eventually, they reached a patch of dancefloor where there
was space enough for them to move. The mage let go of her hand, which she found
unreasonably upsetting, and then stepped back and spread out his arms.

“Do you want to lead, or should I?” He asked. “The dance, I
mean.”

“Oh!” She hadn’t thought of that. “Um, you can lead.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned. “If you’re more comfortable
leading, I’m happy to-”

“I’m fine.” She said again, cutting him off and then immediately
feeling guilty about it. “I- I’m more used to dancing by myself, and if I led,
I probably wouldn’t account for your rhythm or anything. You should lead. I
insist.” The last words came out with a little more force than she’d intended,
but the mage didn’t seem perturbed. He nodded his head.

“As you wish.” He acknowledged, before holding his hand out
again – well, both of them, this time – beckoning her into position.

She stepped forward, joining him, and then they began. Her
latent worry that something would somehow go wrong faded away – he was a fine
dancer. And even with her arms and armour, she was able to keep pace.

“So,” He said, as they danced, “do you dance often?”

“When I can.” She replied. It was a slight challenge to keep
her steps in line while making conversation, but if nothing else, she wanted to
be courteous. “I find it fun – though, I don’t normally do so in a suit of
armour.”

He laughed over the small clanking noises that her armour
was making as she moved.

“Probably the sensible option.” He agreed with a wry smile.

“Yeah.” She nodded. Then, remembering her duties, she looked
around. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary – at least, none that
she could see – and she let herself relax a little again.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

“You say you’re a mage?” She asked.

The mage nodded. “That, I do.”

“I’m not trying to be accusatory, but where are your
apparatus? Your sources of magic?” Though she only knew so much about magic and
its system, she was at least aware that mages used tools in their command of it
– staffs, wands, and enchanted objects were used to channel magic, and many
mages also had natural sources of magical energy to draw their power from. But
this mage had no visible tools or sources on him. She supposed that the pockets
of the coat he was wearing (a long, double-tailed red thing) could have been
hiding a wand or moonstone in them. But she was curious.

“Ah! Those.” The mage’s voice changed in tone. “I… I do have
a source, but it’s unorthodox.”

“Alright.” She said, placatingly. “I won’t pry.” A flicker
passed through the mage’s eyes. They were blue, she noticed – dark blue, like
the depths of an ocean or the edges of a thunderstorm.

“I promise, I don’t have anything to hide.” He assured her.
“You can trust me. It’d just take a hell of an explanation-”

“Don’t worry.” Plue spun, guided by the mage’s hand as the
music swelled, almost crashing into his chest as she made the rotation. She
hastily moved backwards, hoping that the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn’t
visible. “I- um- I trust you.”

“You do?” The mage looked genuinely excited at the prospect.

Plue snorted. “Maybe against my better judgement. Yes.” They
drew away, and she pulled him back towards her, careful not to exert too much
strength and yank him past her.

“I’m flattered.” He said the words like a joke, but Plue
thought she could sense sincerity in his voice. Although maybe that was just
her being fanciful. She didn’t have a response, so she settled for throwing
herself into their next motions with gusto (she really did enjoy dancing).
Though, after that was over, she looked around again. Did anything look to be
out of place?

“You still on alert?” The mage asked. She shrugged.

“It *is* my job.” She reminded him. “Both of our jobs,
as a matter of fact.”

“Don’t worry, I’m doing my part.” He said, evidently trying
to sound assuring. The answer confused her – he looked completely at ease. How
was he doing his job and being alert? Did he just not look it? Thankfully, he
must have seen the confusion on her face, because he sighed.

“It’s part of my magic.” He waved his hand.

It still sounded odd, but, well, she *did* trust him.

“Alright.” She muttered, begrudgingly. “If you’re sure.”

The mage winked.

Suddenly, Plue felt a chill up her spine. She looked around
again. Something wasn’t right, she felt it, she *knew* it-

There. A slightly short man with black hair and a mask. Out
of the corner of her eye, she spotted his finger playing with a hilt. Though the
blade was tucked away, there was little doubt in her mind that he was armed.
Probably a knife. She saw him look away, to another person. They, she realised
with a sinking feeling, were also wearing a mask. One of them paused, and then
turned to look at her. She looked away with a start, heart pounding. They had
to know she was security, from her armour. What would they do? Would they try
to avoid her? Would they flee if she acted? Would they try to kill her first?

She could act now. Try to stop them before they did
anything. But the dance floor was so crowded, she doubted she could get close
enough to them before they could do serious damage. And even so, what would she
do once she got there? If she tried to use her sword, she’d probably just cut
some unfortunate noble’s head off.

No, she was going to need help.

“Mage.” She whispered. His gaze snapped to her. She
indicated with her head, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the closest
masked figure. He followed her gaze – she saw his eyes harden.

“I see it.” He said.

“Them.” She amended. “At least two of them, wearing the same
mask.”

The mage nodded. Then, he blanched and turned to her. “There
are more.” He revealed. “They’re looking for us.”

“*Us*?” Plue squeaked, in spite of herself.

“Okay, well, specifically you.” The mage amended. “What with
you standing up there earlier and basically announcing your presence.” Plue
snorted, but quickly pushed the humour from her headspace.

“We can worry about semantics later.” She told him. “In the
meantime, what do we do?”

“I’ve got something.” He replied. Then, he looked past her –
up, towards the ceiling, at apparently nothing – and nodded.

He made no other moves, and didn’t magically produce a staff
from anywhere, but suddenly Plue felt a tingling feeling, and looked down to
see that her appearance had changed. Instead of armour, she was now wearing an
ankle-length grey dress.

“Sorry.” Said the mage, and Plue looked up and saw that
instead of the coat, he was now clad in a very generic-looking suit. “It’s an
illusion, but I figured-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Plue assured him. “It’s perfect.”
She looked around. The masked figure was gone, and it made her feel relieved
and more worried at the same time. “Are we good?”

The mage paused, squinting. Presumably he was figuring it
out through his magic. Then he waggled his head in a gesture that Plue couldn’t
quite say she was familiar with.

“Sort of.” He explained. “The good news is, they’re not
going to go through with their plan – which I’m still figuring out the
specifics of – until they’re sure that you and any other security is out of the
way. So, the time crunch isn’t as bad as it could be. We just have to act
natural for now.”

“Okay. Okay.” Plue breathed. “Act natural. God it.” She
tried to get back into the dancing, but by now, the atmosphere had completely
changed. Try as she might, she couldn’t find a rhythm or a comfort zone. The
knowledge that lives were on the line felt like it was running through her
veins.

After treading on the mage’s foot twice, she bit her lip.
“I’m really bad at acting natural.”

“It’s okay.” The mage assured her. “I mean – they’re
apparently heading this way, so we might still die, but I won’t hold it against
you.”

Plue looked at him. “There’s no change of us being able to
fight our way out?”

The mage shot her a funny look. “We could, but probably not
without a bunch of dead civilians on our hands.” He said.

She nodded. “I thought the same thing.” She revealed. “I
don’t think it’s a chance we can take.”

Her foot misstepped – she stumbled, and the mage caught her.

“Glad to hear we’re on the same page, ethically speaking.”
He quipped. “Although that does mean we still have something of a task on our
hands.”

By this point, Plue could see the outlines of more masks,
either on the fringes of the crowd or slipping through the crowded dance floor.
And what, she reckoned glumly, would happen when they saw her? The mage’s
illusion was good, but if they caught sight of her face, or thought that she
was behaving suspiciously-

Suddenly, she was hit with an idea to erase all suspicion. A
potentially horrendously awkward idea.

“I- mage.” She said, suddenly feeling the awkwardness. She
didn’t even know this man’s *name*. But as the mage turned his (unfairly
good-looking!) face back towards her, she knew that there was no other option.

“What-” His words were cut off as Plue placed her hands on
his shoulders, lunged upwards, and all but crashed her lips into his.

Well, Dante had to at least marvel at just how *quickly*
everything had fallen to pieces.

Okay, that was probably a dramatic way to put it, but it
definitely felt as though things had gone from nought to one hundred too
quickly.

First of all – the swordswoman was kissing him. He wasn’t to
complain about it, but it did seem a bit sudden. (And Raelyn cackling in the
background didn’t help.) He was so stunned that for a moment, he just froze, hands
sort of awkwardly outstretched as she pressed her face harder onto his face.

Several seconds passed. She pulled away.

“Sorry.” She panted slightly. “I read somewhere that kissing
is one of the best ways to get people to not want to look at you. We don’t want
attention, I- I figured it’d work.”

Dante, still slightly shell-shocked, didn’t reply. Raelyn,
meanwhile, floated closer to him.

“I’ll spare you the trouble, lover boy,” she crooned, “and
just tell you that you guys are good. None of ‘em are paying you any attention,
and the one guy that *was* looking at you averted their gaze once the two
of you started macking it up. And, before you ask, they are still looking for
her. You’ve still got time, but that also means you can’t draw attention to
yourselves.”

“Right.” Dante hissed. “Thanks.”

The swordswoman looked at him curiously, tilting her head –
which had the effect of making her look more mesmerising than she’d already
looked. Either Raelyn was messing with the illusion on her just to mess with
him, or that kiss had sent some of his brain cells reeling. It was probably
both.

“Sorry.” He shook his head, almost reflexively. “Not you.
I…” He breathed for maybe the first time since being kissed. “Wow.”

“Sorry.” She said again, blushing.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Though Dante wasn’t sure how convincing he
was being, he did his best to play it off as if fetching swordswomen snogged
him all the time. “Remind me to thank whoever wrote the book you got that
from.”

Her blush deepened.

“Anyways,” he continued, trying to not dwell on any
awkwardness (they still had a job to do), “we should probably get off the
dancefloor. Come on.” Taking the swordswoman’s hand again, he began to lead her
back through the crowd, to the edge of the mass of bodies. Every so often,
Raelyn would swoop down and tell him that there was one of the conspirators
nearby, in which case he’d stop and follow her directions to make sure he
didn’t encounter them. He could tell that she wanted nothing more then to throw
off the stealth and rip them limb from limb (he empathized… a little bit?), but
she was restraining herself so far. He appreciated that (especially since she
was already helping them out with the illusion thing). It wasn’t often that she
actually exercised restraint.

Eventually, they emerged from the crowd.

“Okay.” Said the swordswoman. “What now?”

Dante paused.

“Honestly?” He admitted. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

She fixed him with an expression blank enough to make up for
the fact that her cheeks were still tinged red.

“You seemed like the professional out of the two of us!” He defended
himself. “Also, to be fair, it’s not like I have any bright ideas just yet.”

“Okay.” The swordswoman folded her arms. “Well, I guess what
we need to do is find a way to lure these guys away from the ballroom, and away
from the guests. That way, we can fight them without worrying about any other
people getting hurt.”

“I hear ya.” Dante agreed, scanning the ballroom. It was
hard to make out the conspirators, given that a bunch of guests were wearing
masks of some kind (some sort of weird rich partygoer thing), but eventually,
he caught sight of one of them. Their shared mask design, he noticed, was pale
white, with black decals. “But, how are we going to lead them away?”

“Just lower the illusion.” The swordswoman suggested. “If
they’re still looking to eliminate security before anything else, we’re the
perfect bait.”

“Sound dangerous.” He observed, slightly drily.

“Sounds like my duty.” Responded the swordswoman without
missing a beat. “Just do it. We have a job to do.”

“…Point taken.” Admitted Dante, hoping that this wouldn’t lead
to his new companion getting herself killed. He turned to give Raelyn, who was
still hovering by his side, a glance. She nodded, and removed the illusion.

The swordswoman sighed in satisfaction as the dress melted
away to reveal her armour. Dante couldn’t say he blamed her. In a tense
situation like this, it was probably a lot more comfortable to be decked out in
knife-stopping metal armour than in a dress.

“I understand that now isn’t the time,” she told him, “but
after this is all over, could you explain just how you’re doing this without
any magical items? It’s impressive magic, and I’m curious.”

Dante glanced and Raelyn, who looked flippant.

“Hey, I don’t care.” She reminded him. “You can tell her
about me, or not. It’s whatever.”

“Uh… sure.” He thus said to the swordswoman. “I’m up for
that. I mean, once it’s all over anyway.”

She nodded. “Once it’s all over.” She agreed. Her expression
became one of thoughtfulness. “In the meantime, however, I guess we just need
to act… oblivious? To make sure these guys don’t realise that we’re on to them.”

He nodded. “Also, we need to leave.” He took a stride towards
the nearest door that led off into a corridor, and another part of the mansion,
but she seized his wrist in a vice-like grip that he really shouldn’t have been
so surprised by.

“Not yet!” She hissed. “Not until we know they’ve seen us,
and will follow.”

“Ah.” Acquiesced Dante. “Good point.”

“It’s ok.” The swordswoman assured him. “It shouldn’t take
to long. We just need to be sure.”

Dante wasn’t willing to think it would be that quick and
convenient, but a few moments of waiting and a quick scout around by Raelyn
later revealed that the swordswoman was right – a large number of the
conspirators (though not all of them) were heading towards them.

“And now, we bounce.” Dante proclaimed, striding through the
door and into the corridor, pacing hard and walking fast. Nodding to Raelyn
(who hovered by the doorway and began to keep watch) and ignoring the
swordswoman’s confused repetition of “bounce?”, he rounded a corner and waited
for her to catch up. He noticed that she was clenching the hilt of her sword
tightly.

“You nervous?” He asked. She shot him a smirk.

“Hardly.” She revealed. “Honestly, I’m just not a fan of all
this sneaking around. Give me a straight fight any day.”

It was at that moment that Raelyn rematerialized at his
side.

“They’re coming.” She told him, in no uncertain terms. (Really,
that was something he could appreciate about her. She was always nice and
blunt.)

Footsteps began to echo through the hallway.

“I think you’ll get your chance.” Dante assured the
swordswoman, just as from around the corner came perhaps eleven or twelve of
the masked figures. They stopped dead when they saw both of them, heads turning
as they eyed one another through their masks. Presumably, they hadn’t been
expecting their targets to just be standing here waiting for them.

For his part, Dante wasn’t sure what he would have said in
that moment (probably some dumb, tension-breaking joke), but the swordswoman
saved him from having to make a choice by immediately drawing her sword and
rushing at the nearest masked figure. Before they could so much as draw their
weapon, she’d driven the blade into their shoulder and forced them onto the
floor.

“Oh, I like this chick.” Raelyn said appraisingly as the
swordswoman spun her weapon in an arc, forcing the other figures to scatter.

“Well, let’s not let her outdo us.” Dante responded. “Raelyn?”

“I hear ya.” In a flash, Raelyn had dropped the illusion
that had rendered her invisible to all except Dante, and lunged forward, palms
filling with indigo fire that she used to set alight any of the conspirators
she touched. The swordswoman saw this happening, and blanched.

“That’s a-”

“Yeah, that’s a demon.” Dante confirmed, watching bemusedly
as Raelyn through one of the figures across the hallway. He couldn’t blame the
swordswoman for her reaction – Raelyn looked a bit like a ghost, what with her
translucent form, stringy hair, and face full of wrath. Plus, the fact that
every part of her was coloured some shade of purple, including the offensive
magic she used to fight, screamed ‘non-human’. “It’s a long story.”

“I’d be delighted to hear it later.” The swordswoman reminded
him, parrying as one of the figures lunged at her with a sword of their own
(and exactly how they’d hidden it on their person, Dante had no idea). Blocking
the attack, she flicked her wrist, disarming her opponent, and then cutting
them across the chest in a wide arc. They fell to the floor, stunned and bleeding,
and the swordswoman practically threw herself across the room to get at the
next hapless conspirator.

Honestly, between the swordswoman and Raelyn, Dante almost
felt sorry for these guys.

No sooner, however, had he had that thought, then he noticed
that while the swordswoman was busy fending off two of the conspirators at
once, a third was creeping up behind her, knife in hand. Dante looked at Raelyn
– she was busy battling her own conspirator, who was apparently a mage,
deflecting her spells with a wand. There was no time. He broke into a sprint.

Before the figure could attack the swordswoman, he tackled
them, wrapping his hands around their waist and bringing them crashing to the ground.
The knife skidded across the polished wooden floor. Not wasting any time, Dante
sat up and punched the conspirator in the face – well, in the mask. This turned
out to be counter-productive, as the mask they were wearing was apparently make
of porcelain or something. It shattered, and Dante hissed as he felt a sting in
his knuckles. The conspirator, spitting with anger and pain, reared up and
threw Dante to the floor, but before they could do anything to him, the swords
woman was there, cutting them with her sword. They fell backwards and remained
still.

“Thanks.” Dante breathed. She turned and smiled at him. There
was a trail of blood down her face from her forehead, but other than that, she
looked unhurt.

“I could say the same to you.” She panted, extending her
hand. He took it, and she pulled him upright. Looking around, he saw that the battle
was over – all the masked figures were laid out on the floor with various
injuries. The only sign of moment besides the swordswoman was Raelyn, who was
busy gleefully kicking one of the bodies.

“So.” The swordswoman continued. “Shall we go and wrap this
up, then?”

Dante smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Some time later, Plue was sitting on a garden bench, staring
up at the night sky, keeping half an eye out for any bugs that would try to
crawl up her armour (she hated it when that happened), and trying to resist the
yawns that seemed to pop up every few seconds. Now that additional security had
been rallied, and were busy sweeping the ground, she could afford to take a
moment to catch her bearings.

As it turned out, there had been a couple of additional conspirators
still in the ballroom with their intended targets, but upon realising that most
of their number had been effortlessly defeated (not that it had been
effortless, but she wasn’t going to tell them that), two had fled and one had
thrown down their arms and surrendered. And then, just like that, everything
had gone back to normal. To most of everyone else, the party had gone through a
minor hiccup at worst. And yet it seemed so much more significant to Plue.
Mostly because of the fighting and sneaking, of course, but also because of-

“Found you!”

The mage strode up, waving. She waved back.

“So?” She asked, shuffling up the bench to make room for the
mage, who sat down and immediately folded one leg over the other. “What was
their end game?”

The mage, who had helped with interrogating the conspirator
who’d surrendered, twisted his torso around to crack his spine with a slightly nauseating
popping noise. “Eh, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He said, waving his hand.
“Assassinate some key political figures, fragment the peace between the
kingdoms.” He shot her a wry glance. “Not saying I called it, but I had a
feeling that their plan was going to be something along those lines.”

“I suppose it makes sense.” Plue agreed. It was a night of
celebrating peace and union, after all. If she was going to try and destroy
said union, she’d try something tonight as well.

The mage snorted. “I’d call that unimaginative of them.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’d call it an attempt at
poetry.” She admitted.

He blinked, brows creasing as he thought about it for a
moment. Then, he smiled. “Touché. Although – it’s weird to think about poetry
in attempted assassination.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be as flippant about it if they’d succeeded,
obviously.” Plue pointed out, resting her head on her hands and leaning back,
turning her gaze back onto the stars. “And plus, people say I’m weird anyway.”

“That sucks.” Said the mage. “But hey, if it makes you feel
any better – I know a bit about being seen as weird, as well.”

She turned back to him. “What, with the whole demon thing?”

There was a shimmer of light as said demon reappeared, arms
folded and floating several inches off the ground beside the mage.

“See how casual *she* is about it?” Said the demon,
almost accusingly. “Just ‘the demon thing’. No ‘oh my God, get that weird sigil
off my arm’, or ‘stop murdering everyone’.” She rolled her eyes, and turned to
look at Plue. “Sometimes I wish I’d been stuck with someone like you, who can
just accept things, you know? None of this protesting nonsense.”

“I…” Plue wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thank you?”

The mage pinched the bridge of his nose – though Plue thought
she could spot a ghost of a smile, half-obscured by his hand.

“Hey, Raelyn.” He said. “Can you do us a favour, and sweep
the grounds? Make sure that we didn’t miss any of them, or that the ones who
booked it aren’t still here?”

The demon sighed like a child being ordered to eat their vegetables.
“But the guards are already doing that!” She protested.

“But they can’t see through walls.” The mage deadpanned. “You
can.”

The demon sighed. “Fine, but I’m not gonna like it.” She
stuck her tongue out at the mage, before turning around and drifting out of
sight. Plue stared after her.

“So…” she ventured, after enough time had passed without
anyone saying anything to tinge the atmosphere with awkwardness, “unorthodox
source of magic, you were saying?”

“Yeah.” The mage nodded. “Summoned her a couple of years ago
without really knowing what I was getting into. It was, uh… it was an
experience, but we’ve come to a sort of understanding now, I guess.” He turned
to face her, and Plue realised suddenly that for all his acting relaxed, he was
worried. Of what, Plue couldn’t say – of her reaction? Of her judgement? It
wasn’t as if people making agreements with demons was a traditionally-done
thing, after all – but she figured that either way, the least she could do was
allay them. She could empathize with being a little bit different.

“Sounds interesting.” She said, trying to sound kind. “As
well as a good way to surprise people. You’ll have to tell me the whole story
some time.”

The mage stared at her for a second – and then he smiled. Infectiously
so, as she found herself grinning back after another moment had passed. And for
a little while longer it was just the two of them, grinning like idiots in a
garden full of garish flowers and tiny little insects, with the stars as their
mood lighting.

“Hey.” Said the mage after a while. “Before I forget, I need
to give something back to you.”

“Oh?” Plue exclaimed, trying to remember when she’d lent
anything of hers to him – but then he leant across the bench, and met her lips
with his own, and then any coherent thoughts she’d been trying to have were
flung out of her head at full speed. His lips were indescribably soft (unlike
her own, which seemed to never not be chapped), and when he pulled away, there
was a twinkle in his soulful eyes.

“I’d never forgive myself if I left after tonight without returning
that kiss you gave me.” He said.

After hesitating for a moment, on account of being
completely lost for words and also on account of not trusting her mouth to not
say something incredibly stupid, Plue finally was able to reply.

“That’s remarkably chivalric of you.” She complimented. “Though,
I must confess – it feels a little odd that even though we’ve kissed twice, I
still don’t yet know your name.”

The mage huffed.

“No, that makes sense.” He affirmed her. “It- my name’s Dante.”

“Dante.” Plue repeated, letting the name run over her tongue,
adding it to her image of him. *Dante*. It suited him, she decided. “My
name,” she said, holding out her hand, “is Plue Abernathy. It’s… very nice to
meet you.”

The mage – Dante – nodded, before grasping her hand in his
own. She could only feel so much through the metal gauntlet, and was struck
with a sudden desperate longing to hold his hand with nothing in-between it and
her own. His lips quirked upwards, slowly transforming into a beaming smile,
and he replied in a voice that was little more than a breath; a voice promising
that of whatever the future may have held for the two of them, this was just
the beginning.

“Nice to meet you, too.”