Meanwhile…

 

Finri followed the prince, his lackey Othid, and her step-brother Maertel through a hallway. When they disappeared into a room, the knights stayed outside of it. 

 

Finri lifted her hand and traced an odd symbol, a rune, in the air with her finger, a light tinge of red left behind. She drew the symbol a total of three times, slowly approaching the conspicuous knights, and flicked each symbol away, muttering under her breath. The slight disturbance caught their attention, but before they spoke or moved, the symbol ricocheted off them, disappearing in the air - absorbed in them. A ring of red circled their pupils and they stared dumbly off into the distance; a small dribble of drool trailed off one of their chins.

 

She stuck her ear to the door, listening. 

 

“I still can’t believe they embarrassed you like that, you deserve a cool slave,” a male said - Finri recognized the voice as Maertel.

 

“Sure,” the prince replied.

 

Othid was quiet. It was his mother, after all.

 

“Though this should be a celebratory trip! Women, man, I swear they’re…”

 

A hand roughly grabbed her shoulder.

 

“The fuck -” a rough voice started, cut off by a sharp gurgle, because Finri punched him in the throat. She watched as he crumpled while he held his throat. She rolled her eyes and kicked him hard in the head, sending him flying back.

 

“I could come up with some kind of act and distract them without causing a mess…” she said wistfully to herself. “Hm. But. I’ve been wanting a chance.”

 

Her eyes gleamed. She grinned, hand tightening into a fist. She stepped forward, in front of the door, and broke it open with another kick.

Maertel was standing, and he spun to the door and sputtered. “Who the - the fuck you think you’re doing!” 

 

Othid stood up from the couch, where he had sat next to the crown prince. The three boys foolishly had taken off their masks already, leaving the seller the only one hidden. 

 

“Do you have any idea-” Maertel began to spat, veins protruding in his forearms. As Finri moved forward, he matched her, glaring and grabbing the dagger at his hip. “I’ll teach you some manners.”

 

Finri smirked and whipped him with a roundhouse kick, which tossed him back into a shelf, knocking over books and a vase. 

 

The masked man raised his arms and slashed from across the room, a slice of water coming down on her. Finri jumped over it easily and landed on the table; Othid grabbed his sword and endued it with energy, aiming to completely sever  her legs.

 

Finri jumped forward again, careful not to use any fire here, and caught Othid’s head in between her thighs. She swung her upper body, which forced him to lose his balance, sending him to the ground. She stopped the move from breaking his neck.

 

It probably wouldn’t be good to kill them here, and how would she explain that to the princess? It may scare her. She rolled forward to evade the masked man’s second slice. She sprang up, grabbed his arm and twisted it around him. A loud crack reverberated from his body, a scream gurgling up, but Finri grabbed his head and smacked it hard into the ground.

 

Othid and Maertel regained their stance, stunned but angry.

 

“Too easy,” she complained.

 

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Cassivan asked, still relaxed on the couch. He peered at her over a glass of liquor that he sipped. “Did you fancy you’d make some quick coin, robbing a room? Unfortunate for you to pick this one. You’re handing over your life for nothing.”

 

“Rude bitch,” Othid spat, spitting blood on the ground. His nose bled heavily - it caught the brunt of his landing against the floor.

 

“Hmmmm,” Finri stretched her arms above her head. “Honestly?” she asked in a peppy tone, “I just wanted to beat the shit out of Prince Cassivan. Ah, I can’t kill you today, that would cause issues.” Her eyes caught the light from a candle, a bright blue that morphed into yellow illuminating under her mask. “But you see, you really pissed me off, so this time, you’re gonna get yours.”

 

The blank look on Cassivan’s face immediately contorted into fury, “Kill her!”

 

“You’re going to wish you were never born,” Maertel yelled.

 

Maertel and Othid descended at the same time. Othid manifested acid in his touch, an ability the aura of vapor or plant could carry, and Maertel, though he couldn’t materialize it with the same ease, used his own energy to reinforce his body and create concentrated attack. 

 

Neither of these boys had ever took their fighting seriously - they learned enough to remain adequate - after all, their stations guaranteed their way through life without putting in much effort. They wouldn’t have to fight the front lines, and they, as head nobles, would have soldiers beneath them. 

 

They could not land a hit on Finri, she either dodged or blocked with ease. She spun past Othid’s grip and grabbed his arm, forcing him to follow her center of gravity; she grabbed his head during their movement and slammed it into Maertel’s.

 

Othid’s head couldn’t sustain the additional shot and as he tried to stand, he tumbled down, vomiting.

 

“Gross,” Finri complained.

 

Othid couldn’t stand; his vision went blurry. Maertel stepped over his body, gritted his teeth, and reached for her. Finri grabbed his hand and snapped it back, breaking his wrist. He let out a wretched cry and fell to the ground, sobbing and clutching his hand.

 

“Useless,” Cassivan commented. He stood up, glaring. 

 

“So sincere of you,” Finri remarked. She smiled and clapped her hands together. “Are you ready?”

 

Lightening flickered around his body, oranges and yellows sparking out. His eyes shined with it. He sneered, “You really think you can take me?”

 

Finri held out her arms to her sides and laughed loudly, “Hit me! Try it!”

 

Cassivan yelled and struck forward, a large wave of energy releasing from him. It slammed into her, through her, and struck the wall and objects behind her, frying them and setting it on fire. Cassivan smirked - he had killed before with such a shot with a knight apprentice that pissed him off. It was his first time killing, and it hadn’t felt great, but there were no consequences. Rather, his mother had been proud. She had the head cut off and showed the head to his grandfather. 

 

The expression fell from his face though as boisterous laughter filled up the room.

 

The intruder stood there, unharmed. Her clothes were fried and partially ripped, but she laughed, not a mark or speck of blood of her own on her.

 

“You can’t hurt me with shit like that!” 

 

“Impossible-” 

 

Finri rushed forward, aiming her fist into his stomach. The air left Cassivan, and as he was thrown back, his mind couldn’t grasp the situation. He grabbed his stomach and sat up, but before he could get to his feet, Finri grabbed his collar. She lifted him over her head and tossed him onto the desk, breaking it. Again, Cassivan lost his breath and coughed. Footsteps pounded down the hallway. 

 

She whistled. “Guess I should just go… this is enough of a distraction I suppose. But.”

 

She lingered, tapping her finger against her cheek. Her hand disappeared behind her cloak, taking out a long dagger. 

 

“What are you-” Cassivan grunted, still indignant about the entire situation.

 

“You deserve this much,” she said coldly, pushing the blade through his shoulder. She watched emotionlessly as he screamed, grabbing the wound. 

 

“Why! You fucking! Bitch!” He threw his head back. He never expected to actually be hurt. Who would dare do this to him?

 

“This is only one stab,” Finri said calmly. She leaned in and spoke in his ear, "You're going to need to get a lot stronger than that if you want to be able to challenge me. Besides, listen - I still owe you another four stabs."