In a Heartbeat...

"Hmmm... Hmmm... Hm..." Pent's father, a grizzled old blacksmith, pock-scarred by flecks of molten metal and extremely hairy, remarks, circling around Esthalia.

Pent, himself, leans against a pillar, his arms folded across his chest. "You've been saying 'Hmmm...' for the last five minutes now. Aren't you going to say something else?" he asks, starting to get annoyed.

"You're free to pursue her, I suppose," he finally remarks nonchalantly, waving at Esthalia as if she were but a beast of burden.

"I'm so glad you're deciding as such, Dad," Pent grumbles, watching his father retreat back into his forge.

"Your father doesn't seem too happy," Esthalia observes.

"Dad fancies himself to be a bit of a Feeler; you know, the ones who can feel a person's true intentions, sort of similar to what you can do. Anyways, I guess he didn't find enough things wrong with you for his liking. He's such a cynic."

"Ah..."

"PENT!" his father calls from within. "GET YER LAZY SELF IN 'ERE A'FORE I STRING YEH UP BY YER TOES O'ER TH' FLAME!"

Pent leans over and kisses Esthalia lightly on the lips. "You have somewhere safe to go?" he asks.

"I do. At least, I hope it's safe. In any event, I'll be fine. I promise. Set your fears to rest." She smiles serenely and backs up into a passing throng, waving gently, before she disappears entirely into the crowd, not even a glimpse of her blue bob showing through.

Pent shakes his head and retreats slowly back into his father's forge.

"PENT!" the old smith shouts again.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm comin'! I'm comin'!" Pent shouts back in vague annoyance, heading back to man the fires and iron once more.

Esthalia allows the crowd to conceal her physically by pulling a large amount of magic around herself in a cocoon, forcing those of minimal magical abilities to look elsewhere unless they were searching quite specifically for her. In all honesty, she knows, as she walks along, she is terrified. Never before has her life been threatened, but there is always a first time for everything.

She continues to walk along, hoping to seek sanctuary with one of the old hags of the Tower. Her intentions, however, are not able to be carried out. She finds herself, while following the crowd, in a more deserted section of the town. The crowd begins to split apart, each man going his different direction. She almost immediately wants to kick herself for overlooking this extreme tendency of people to go and do things when they're needed most. She sighs and wraps the magic around her tighter still, hoping to not be noticed at all.

Unfortunately, the trick works a little too well.

Esthalia is so concerned about keeping herself hidden and reaching the Tower that she does not see the man in purple walking down the street towards her. The two collide, and Esthalia is startled out of her camoflage. She falls to the ground, having far less force behind her stride and mass, and the man leans over her.

"There you are," he says simply. "My Lord Hemlock will be pleased to see you wanted to join him in wedlock."

"Wha- Oh no! Not you again! Go away already! I don't want your Lord Hemlock to marry me! The only one I want to marry - the only one who has a chance in the Wastes - is Pent, okay? Now go away, and leave me be." She rises and dusts off her dress before brushing passed him on her way to the Tower.

The man, however, will not take such an answer. He grabs her wrist as she passes and prohibits her from continuing. "Such is forbidden. Come. My Lord Hemlock awaits."

"Jus-"

But it is too late. Esthalia finds herself suddenly nowhere and everywhere and the strange, half-sentient man, everywhere and nowhere, too. She is unable to speak and unable to act. Soon, it ends.

The feeling of being everywhere and nowhere suddenly ceases, and Esthalia finds herself in the middle of a Victorian-style hedge maze. She is alone, however, but she hears footsteps rapidly approaching. She ducks behind a turn in the maze and sees a man and a woman laughing and carrying on while making their ways towards her. Panicking, Esthalia presses herself against the hedge and wraps herself in camoflaging magic.

"Oh, Razal!" the woman giggles. "You're such a kidder!"

"You know better than that, my darling," the man replies, pulling her close and kissing her.

Esthalia gets the hint quickly. She begins to back away, far from the couple who have better things to worry about than a lost woman watching them. However, she backs into someone.

"RAZAL!" the someone, evidently a man, shouts angrilly as Esthalia bumps into him. She turns to see a man of long, wavy brown locks and a face that leans closer to insanity than intensity. He hardly notices Esthalia's presense and brushes passed her, knocking her into the arms of an old woman.

"Shhh..." the woman says, stroking Esthalia's shoulder. "Silence now and an explanation later."

"Come out of there, you coward! Show yourself and draw like a man!"

"Stay close," the woman whispers and guides Esthalia towards the center again.

There, Razal, who has, on closer look, a definite hint of grey to his skin and dark blue streaks through his black hair, is standing before the woman. He glares at the intruder and whips out a rapier. "I draw, Galontrif. A boy such as yourself oughtn't make such cracks about my manliness. Do you know the consequences of your actions?" Razal asks in a rich and charming voice.

"I do," the intruder, evidently Galontriff, replies quietly. "Do you know the reasoning for my challenge?" he demands, tossing his head so his brown tresses fly in the wind. He doffs his deep blue cape and hands it to another man who came with him, this one younger, blonde, and meeker in appearance. Galontriff, too, draws his blade: a longsword.

"Oh, is there another besides my avid love for your sister, Trifalna?" Razal asks, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"RAZAL!" Galontriff replies, racing in while raising his sword in rage. "Your cocky replies end now!" He reaches Razal and swings his sword down with both hands towards his head.

Razal sidesteps neatly and blocks the blow with his rapier while delivering a kick to Galontriff's back, sending him flailing for balance and breaking distance. He lands, gracelessly, in the hedges. "Tut, tut, Galontriff. If I taught you anything, it's that you should always assume your opponent is better than you before you attack him. Now, withdraw this mindless challenge of yours."

"Never!" Galontriff replies coldly, rolling to his feet. "You have dishonored my sister, and you must be punished!"

"Then I'm sorry to say it, but you must die," Razal replies calmly. He blinks, and his previously dark eyes are suddenly a disquieting brown slit horizontally.

"You're wrong there, Razal! You will be the one to perish!"

Razal sighs as his body begins to change in substance. While previously his skin was merely grey, it is now becoming rougher, more bulky, and more likened to stone. Esthalia watches in morbid interest as the conflict rises in intensity. "When in the course of sentient existance has a student overpowered his teacher when both were in their primes? The most important thing you should have realized by now is that a teacher must never teach his student all he knows, or else there will be trouble."

"You speak falsehoods!"

"Then you shall, regretably, meet Death. Farewell, dearest Galontriff."

Razal raises his rapier to the ready as Galontriff stumbles to his feet. Razal now possesses no spot of human flesh upon him, and he walks towards his student with a measured gait. Galontriff pulls his longsword into a defensive pose, but it is in vain. One simple swipe from Razal hacks through Galontriff's knees, severing them from his body and sending him toppling down to the ground. Razal flicks his rapier into a backwards grip and punches it down, through Galontriff's eye, and then through his brain. He places his foot on Galontriff's body and yanks his rapier out of it.

The man holding Galontriff's cape rushes forwards and drapes it over the fallen man's corpse. Then, suddenly, the woman, Trifalna, races forwards, snatches up her brother's sword, and holds it at the ready in front of her.

"You demon!" she screeches. "You killed Galontriff!" She casts a gaze down at her dead brother.

"For you," Razal replies. "For us."

"The Devil with 'us'!" she shouts, glaring up at Razal. "I never loved you! I was letting you have me so Galontriff could kill you and achieve the seat of honor that he rightfully deserved!"

"Being the Lord's lapdog? Pfah! He could have had it!" Razal barks in reply.

"No! We don't want charity! PREPARE TO DIE, YOU DIRTY BAS-"

A quick flick of Razal's wrist severs Trifnala's head from her neck and sends her body flomping next to her brother's. Razal raises an eyebrow at the young man, who is now distressing over how to cover her corpse and not get sprayed with the blood that is cascading from her neck. "Boy," Razal calls, and the young man looks up at him, cowering slighly. "No need to be afraid. Here. Use my cloak." He doffs his deep purple cloak and hands it to him.

The youth quickly covers Trifnala's body and head with the cape. He nods a thank-you to Razal and begins skitting off through the maze. However, a call from Razal stops him.

"Boy!" Razal calls, and the young man stops. "Not a word of this, eh? Lord Hemlock will deal with this properly."

The young man looks a bit confused for a moment before nodding. He makes to get gone again.

"Boy!" Razal shouts again, and the young man turns to face him once more. "Why don't you come back to the castle with us." It is a command, not a question. The boy visibly sighs, but he no sound exits his body. He nods. Razal laughs and claps him on the back. "That's the spirit!"

Razal wipes his rapier's blade clean with a white handkerchief and stuffs it back into his pocket. He sheathes his sword and strides towards the old woman, whom Esthalia now realizes is also wrapped in camoflaging magic. Razal smiles and takes Esthalia into his arms, pulling off her camoflage. "It's good to have you back, little sister," he says, smiling and kissing her head.

Back where? Esthalia wonders.

"Home, of course!" Razal replies, laughingly as Esthalia ponders over how he delivered such a ready response. Had he read her thoughts? Preposterous! Not even the mages of the Tower could do such a thing! But then... not even they could tear the camoflage from her. "Come!" Razal declares. "Lord Hemlock has been waiting for you for a very long time!"