THE FORTUNIST

Eim

"A deep connection with a cryfix grants supernatural abilities to whoever has it."

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In the brief moment that the assassin lunges at Eim, Queen of Albeny, she actually sees her life flashing before her eyes.

Her parents had always told her that she was born to be chosen and from the moment she turned fifteen, she had been trained rigourously to win the title of 'royal bride' which she eventually did. When she became crown Princess however, she gained a lot of servant and guards. Her feet did not need to touch the ground. Although she was a bit addicted to sparring in her early years, that stopped too when she birthed Rayton.

Now, this assassin has his sword menacingly pointed at the space between her eyes and Eim forces herself to remember the drive she used to have. Her brows raise as at the last second, she stumbles a little to the left and what could have been a deathblow becomes a slight cut on her cheek.

Good, it was all coming back.

The assassin scoffs at what he considers her feeble attempt to escape death. Carelessly, he flings his sword again. Eim thanks him in her mind. The easiest attack to dodge is a careless one and it also gives her more time to recall her fighting moves.

"You fight," the assassin's voice is low and deep. Eim can only tell what he is saying by feeling the vibrations under her feet. Eim twists her lips in speculation. With a voice so unnaturally deep, he must have tapped into the power of one of the nine cryfixes. But which one?

Eim throws a quick glance across her room trying to spot the closest and most promising weapon of defense. There are her writing quills, but they are far too light, and it will require her to close distance with the assassin. She wouldn't be able to kill him with quills besides. They would not do much good either against his unfair advantage of a sabre. She could use writing ink to blind his eerily purple eyes but then again it had been so long since she shot targets- her aim was probably off by now. A silk scarf? She could use that to parry his sabre and then strangle him afterwards. Finally, the hollow hairpin. A very sharp pointy end, it will quickly draw blood. Just a stab at a core muscle or an artery...

Time to make a decision.

She draws out the silk scarf. The assassin scoffs again. Eim does not let his mockery deter her. Letting out a warcry, she lunges for the unsuspecting assassin who falls for her feint. He thrusts the sabre directly at her but she has already bent down, throwing forth the scarf and sliding around him so that the silk material wraps around his legs. She yanks at it and the assassin falls down with a thud. She throws herself over the assassin and makes to stab his throat.

The assassin twists his neck. The hairpin pierces through soft rug like knife through butter. The assassin reaches out his hands for her throat but she anticipates it and catches his wrists. It is a trap. The assassin throws her off. She rolls over while the assassin regains his stance and picks his sabre.

Chance gone.

The assassin's sabre, and her small hairpin.

"So you can fight."

Eim says nothing. She hasn't fought in years and while her fighting talents gave her an edge over her competitors once, they were never acknowledged.

"Why should a queen learn how to fight in the first place?"

"They plan ahead for the future," Eim replies, "they know this sort of things will be bound to happen. Moments when they can only rely on themselves."

"Who needs a queen who foresees doom?"

"Who sent you?"

"You are in no position to ask questions, Eim."

"Who. Are. You?"

"I repeat, you are in no position to demand answers!" The assassin launches Eim into another unfair furious spar where Eim has to pick up random objects to take blade lashes in her place.

"Do you still want to know who I am? Perhaps I can jog your memory!" The assassin uses the nearby wall to navigate himself around Eim, confusing her in the process. It is too late for her to find where he is attacking from. Within a blink, the assassin's blade is buried in her lower abdomen, stopping short of bursting from her back.

Eim gasps.

The pain! Perhaps it could help accelerate her memory for a way to survive. The hairpin rolls out of her grip. Eim nearly smiles. How could she forget? This is not just an insignificant but extravagant hairpin. This is a cryfix! This is the Sun's Chronicle!

"Please," she grimaces, "Rayton, Lay..."

"Please," the assassin completes her imploration mockingly.

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Well, that was intense.

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