魔の風

Starter for @shadowgifted

“Well, well, well, and just what do we have here?” Leon mused as he unsheathed the blade at his side.

The sound of quivering metal rang in the air as the Prince’s sword travelled in a fluid arc, coming to a rest with its point pressed lightly against the mysterious woman’s neck, “A deplorable Hoshidan spy?”

If the stranger’s mount was any indication as to her origins, then she likely hailed from one of the Eastern Kingdoms. Pegasi were indigenous to clear and sunny skies that stretched over the enemy nation of Hoshido - such winged beasts were never seen roaming Nohr’s skies, unless it was mounted by a Hoshidan bent on wreaking havoc. Yet there was too much about this woman that failed to mark her as a citizen of the Light Kingdom. Her features, while dark, certainly did not match the stereotypical phenotype of a native Hoshidan, furthermore, her raiment, was unlike anything the Prince had ever seen before.

Everything about this woman brought up a flurry of questions in Leon’s mind. It would be a lie to say that these unknowns had not piqued his interest. Very slowly, Leon dragged the tip of his sword along the woman’s neck until the broad side came up to meet the “v” of her jawline. “If you have any intention of living beyond this encounter you’ll answer all of my questions,” he said in an ominous tone, cocking his head slightly to one side.

She knows not where Hoshido lies–she’s new to this world, this world where she hopes to escape the shackles of her past (save Robin, never Robin, but Robin is gone and Aversa has nothing to tie her to Ylisse nor Plegia anymore)–but it’s obvious that this land must be in conflict with it.

“Such accusations,” she drawls, eyeing him with a shade of contempt. “My, and we’ve hardly just met!” She’s treading dangerous ground, with the way the stranger’s sword traces up to her jaw, but then again, when has she not?

“You’ll ensnare far more with honey, love, but I suppose I’ll tell you all the same. My Inana–not some beast, mind you–has been with me for years. Dark pegasi aren’t common in the desert sands where I grew up, but my…benefactor was kind enough to gift her to me when I expressed an interest in aerial combat.” 

The offensively sweet smirk that emerged when the corners of her lips curled ever so slightly was particularly vexing, so much so that Leon had to clench his jaw and grit his teeth in order to keep up with his cool façade. “Well, it’s a nation quite far from here–I doubt you’ll have heard of it.”

Was she testing him? Under the wing of the realm's finest tutors, Leon had come to know the layout of this world in excruciating detail by the time most children were finally weaned off their wet nurses. How dare this wench toy with him! She was naught but a mouse, hopelessly pressed into a corner and at the mercy of his deadly claws. 

His gaze never wavered, his dark eyes boring deep into hers. She would find that he was not so easily deterred by her flippant attitude. "Please, do try me woman," he urged coolly, all the while searching her face for the faintest hint as to her intentions, "You'll find that I am not nearly as ignorant as you would like to believe."

Starter for @vvolfssegner

That accursed stench grew worse by the day. It had crept in slowly. Gradually building up in intensity until one day the Prince was able to pick up on the strange odour. It was quite faint when Leon first noticed it, an earthy, musty smell, not unlike the scent mouldy tomes taken over by mildew. It had barely registered in the scope of his awareness…but with each day, the smell had become increasingly poignant. The odour that had rolled along the stagnant air of his study on that hot afternoon was so offensive that Leon had to fight back the urge to retch. “By the Gods!” he gasped, raising to cup one hand over this nose, “What in the good Dusk Dragon’s name is producing that infernal smell?!?”

Whatever it was simply had to go. There was no way that the Prince could ever hope to accomplish anything with the foul miasma that occupied the small room. His eyes watered as he ducked into the room to begin his search for the “culprit” behind the production of the reeking fetor. Leon had no choice but to follow his nose. Crawling on all fours the Prince checked every corner of his study. No stone would be left unturned. He searched underneath his desk, among the shelves of book cases, the inside of drawers and his wardrobe. Thus far his efforts turned up nothing. Groaning, the man looked over to the last possible hiding place in the room.

Standing by a seldom used, winged arm chair, was an antique vitrine. Leon had never made a point of maintained the glass display or its contents, but whatever was producing this smell had to be around that item of furniture. First he checked the space beneath the case, the strength of the odour intensified significantly, signalling that he was indeed very close. Leon gagged, but to his dismay there was nothing to be found under the ancient display case but a few sad looking dust bunnies. Seething, the mage could only come to one conclusion: whatever it was had to be inside the vitrine. His vision was blurred by the tears that brimmed at his eyelids and it did little to help given that the glass panes had taken a smoky appearance after having been neglected for so long.

The prince braced himself for whatever horror awaited him inside that case and unhooked the clasp that held the vitrine door shut. Upon opening the door and finally seeing what lay inside, Leon could only scream.

There was no question as to who left that there.

After several hours of simply scouting the terrain of the campsite, he finally came across the perfect treasure. It appeared to be a toad that had been trampled by a horse. The curved shape of the horseshoe indented in its back… The sun had dried out its once moist skin, and the entire dead amphibian was stiff as a board. It was perfect! Nature had already preserved it perfectly for his collection, and that made it even better than if he’d done it himself!

Scraping the toad off the dusty ground, he grinned maniacally, determined to get it back to his tent before any of his so-called allies could try to lay claim to such a beauty. Knowing exactly the prime location to store it among his collection, he set off at a jog toward his treasure trove. Though his jog was quickly interrupted. Freezing in place at the sound of his name, he blinked a moment. He hadn’t just misheard, had he? Someone couldn’t be bothering him at such an important moment, could they? But it was impossible he had misheard! A wolfskin’s hearing was almost on par with their sense of smell!

Groaning at having to delay his chance to keep his new toad carcass safe, he headed for Leon’s tent. Poking his head in, he blinked a moment, inhaling as he recognized that pungent odor. 

Still, the stench-induced headache that ravaged the mage's skull was very real and his annoyance even more so. There was something about how Keaton went about explaining himself so nonchalantly that made the situation that much more irritating, but Leon decided to let it slide. "While I appreciate the gesture, I'm afraid that my nose cannot quite handle," the man paused for a moment and closed his eyes as he carefully considered his words - he wasn't pleased but he also didn't fancy giving himself even more of a headache by introducing unnecessary tension, "the unique and poignant...aroma."

While diplomatic, Leon's description of the so-called "treasure's" smell was by all definitions an all out lie...one that left a taste on his tongue that almost rivaled the odour of the thing that the dog left in his room. He sighed and pressed his fingers against his temples in an attempt to chase away the ache in his head. "If it is 'perfectly ripe' as you say, does that mean that this...'treasure' will be returning to your paw-er I mean your hands...once more?"

The prince’s dark eye drifted away from Tarn and down toward the document that lay on his desk. Taking the bound notebook in his hands, he flipped casually through its delicate pages, his eyes darting over their contents at a remarkable speed. Notes detailing the successful interception of a group of Hoshidan spies at the border, a list of recent promotions, a list of items in short supplies with a request for funds for the necessary procurements. He continued reading the report as though the young knight was not at all present, the crackling of the fire made only more distinct in the silence. More of the same. The familiarity was taken as good news by the prince as anything out of the ordinary would indicated that something was awry within the well oiled Nohrian military machine. With a sigh, Leon closed the notebook and threw it down onto his desk before returning his attention to the knight in the room. “You needn’t be made familiar with all of the details, but this assignment comes directly from the next King of Nohr, the Crowned Prince Marx. I am more than capable of carrying out this task on my own but the Prince insisted that I bring a small company of men along with me,” gloved fingers intertwined and the mage rest his chin upon his armoured knuckles as he leaned forward over his desk, “and so I have recruited you.”

“If you are at all that you claim to be, your company alone should more than suffice. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Unless you have any questions, that will be all.”

The prince wrenched upon the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small stack of parchment paper. As reached for his pen, Leon looked up and addressed Tarn for the last time before dismissing him. “Oh, and one last thing,” he spoke in an inexorable tone, his grave expression matching the weight of his words, “as you can expect, the nature of this mission is strictly confidential…to divulge any of the details of our work together will be considered an act of treason. Should I discover any news of betrayal on your part, you can be assured that I will not hesitate to execute you myself. I do hope that you understand.”

He listened to the little briefing he had and from the few details he gave, it was either an escort mission, or something he would want to be specially equipped for, and that was a mental note he had to take for when he returned to the garrison. One thing he didn’t like about Leo already was how he was always so.. .discreet, or cryptic, if those were even the right words. He already has some trust from the rest of the family, what must Tarn do to get Leo’s?

“I understand the consequences, but the mere fact that I literally have to guess where we will be meeting, like all the other missions I have taken, on amuse me, your highness… but that won’t stop me.” Tarn did his best to carefully choose his words even if he sounded like an absolute idiot to the brightest mind in all of Nohr, his mask making his voice seem a bit, unusually deep. With no further comment, he left when he was dismissed, and a bit in a hurry as well, he had preparations to do.

Without further commentary, the Prince placed his foot firmly upon the stirrup pad and hoisted himself up onto his saddle. Their mission would require several hours to get underway, and so, Leon shifted his weight until settling into a position that he determined was the most comfortable. "You're to follow," he said, without so much as glancing at his Knight, "I trust that such a task isn't beyond you. Should you spot any Hoshidans, do NOT intervene unless I have given the order or we have been intercepted. Is this understood?" Sigurd snorted again, as though to add further emphasis to Leon's instructions. The beast was quite spirited for a war horse, but Leon was personally quite taken by his spunky personality and obvious intellect. He would even go so far as to wager that the brute was even more intelligent than some of the soldiers he has the misfortune of leading. He hoped that Tarn would be different. Leon didn't care if the man could offer him a challenge in a game of chess or competently hold his own in a verbal sparring match in the domain of philosophy - all he wanted was for someone to do as he ordered and to execute his commands with efficiency and exactitude.

“Hello friends, acquaintances, and humans or other species I have yet to come across, I am Corrin.  A prince of Hoshido by blood, a prince of Nohr by heart, and a hero by soul.  I am looking for partners to chat or go on adventures with.  If you are from my world, the Smash world, or a world I have yet visited, please stop by!  Unfortunately, my interpersonal skills only work best on worlds I have read about.  I apologize for any inconvenience…” “You may have heard of Khan Flavia and Khan Basilio… those legendary hero’s skills rival mine!  You can read up about their work here.” “Until then, fare thee well, strangers!”

The prince's dark eye drifted away from Tarn and down toward the document that lay on his desk. Taking the bound notebook in his hands, he flipped casually through its delicate pages, his eyes darting over their contents at a remarkable speed. Notes detailing the successful interception of a group of Hoshidan spies at the border, a list of recent promotions, a list of items in short supplies with a request for funds for the necessary procurements. He continued reading the report as though the young knight was not at all present, the crackling of the fire made only more distinct in the silence. More of the same. The familiarity was taken as good news by the prince as anything out of the ordinary would indicated that something was awry within the well oiled Nohrian military machine. With a sigh, Leon closed the notebook and threw it down onto his desk before returning his attention to the knight in the room. "You needn't be made familiar with all of the details, but this assignment comes directly from the next King of Nohr, the Crowned Prince Marx. I am more than capable of carrying out this task on my own but the Prince insisted that I bring a small company of men along with me," gloved fingers intertwined and the mage rest his chin upon his armoured knuckles as he leaned forward over his desk, "and so I have recruited you."

"If you are at all that you claim to be, your company alone should more than suffice. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Unless you have any questions, that will be all."

The prince wrenched upon the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small stack of parchment paper. As reached for his pen, Leon looked up and addressed Tarn for the last time before dismissing him. "Oh, and one last thing," he spoke in an inexorable tone, his grave expression matching the weight of his words, "as you can expect, the nature of this mission is strictly confidential...to divulge any of the details of our work together will be considered an act of treason. Should I discover any news of betrayal on your part, you can be assured that I will not hesitate to execute you myself. I do hope that you understand."

@blades-of-the-endertech

A cold front had swept into the Nohrian capital of Windmire from the north, bringing with it the bite of chilly winter air and an onslaught of freezing rain. The city occupied the base of a great basin of hard rock and dark soil. Great, spiralling , ebony towers rose up from the belly of this great chasm, reaching for the dark skies overhead like inky tendrils clawing at the heavens from the pits of hell. Torrential rains came crashing down on the barren stretches of land surrounding the capital, wizened trees groaning under the resistance brought upon them by howling winds.

The outskirts of Windmire were dotted with a number of military outposts. A foreboding fortress stood alone, overlooking the eastern most border of the great city, never wavering in the storm that ravaged the region. Disquieted whispers travelled throughout the fortress’ chilly halls about the impending arrival of a Nohrian prince. The standing monarch was not known for his kindness, and ruled over the blighted nation with an iron fist, a trait that was no doubt passed on to his progeny. There was no word as to which of the Princes would be arriving, but the news remained anxiety provoking never the less. The garrison stood in perfect formation in the great hall, the tension in the air almost palpable to anyone in the room. A shrill creak of ungreased hinges was followed by a hollow bang, as the main doors of the entrance hall were flung open. A gust of wind sent half-frozen rain drops spraying into the hall, a faint hiss sounding as they struck the armour of those standing nearest to the doorway. Amidst the wailing winds outside, the faint clinking of armoured footfalls could be heard. The heavy wooden doors swung shut, bringing the hall to a dead silence. Finally a dark figure stepped out into the light that pooled on the stone floor from the chandelier above. Despite the miserable weather outside, not a single piece of Prince Leon’s armour was out of place. His flaxen hair, although wet from the rain, sat neatly on his head, not a single lock daring to disrupt the orderliness of his appearance. The prince’s cloak collar remained crisp and perfectly pressed - a reflection of the young prince’s reputation for perfectionism and exactitude. He was not one to take too kindly to errors. Leon continued to make his way down the hall, hands clasped behind him and his sharp brown eyes scanning each soldier as though each were a maths problem to be solved. The prince, a dark knight by practise, wavered between boyhood and manhood, as evidence by some of the more childish features that his face had retained. Yet, despite his age, something about the lad commanded obedience. Leon stopped before a knight with striking eyes. A deep purple, much like those of his younger sister - Elise. The youth looked the man over, his eyes slowly taking him in from head to toe. For reasons that he could not pin-point at the moment, something about this particular man piqued his interest. The uncertainty was an uncomfortable feeling, but Leon had every intention of extinguishing it. He remained stone faced, his thoughts near unreadable but after a few moments, finally he spoke. “You!” he called out, addressing the raven-haired malig knight with a curt nod, “Your name and rank.”  

Many of the soldiers of various types rushed to their place in the inspection line in panic and worry, some of which hoping whoever was inspecting this time did not catch them in their own acts. One knight however, Tarn, was always prepared and stood in his place a minute or four before inspection, having been in the army for so long, he was use to this. Hands behind his back holding his halberd behind him, covered head to toe in metal and cloth, he stood there like the typical loyal, disciplined soldier would. The only thing that would make this different was if someone new was inspecting. Little did he know… that was exactly what happened. He was use to some pitiful Captain or some other lowly Officer, and sometimes visits from Lady Camilla or Prince Xander, but this time, a certain Dark Knight was looking at the line of troops before him.

Tarn fearlessly stood there, facing the direction ahead of him without daring to move his body, but his bright purple eyes did follow Leon movement toward his direction… and it was no surprise that Leon would ask about him, for they had never truly met. Tarn’s fearless tone in answering the question confused his comrades for reasons unknown.

Leon looked Tarn over once more, flexed his fingers behind his back, and turned on his heel to address Flying Officer who immediately dipped into a deep bow. "I will be taking this one," Leon informed him as he motioned toward Tarn,  "with me. Until then officer, wait on my command." Shortly after, there was a shout to announce their dismissal and a rush of activity as lines of soldiers silently filed out of the hall. The mage returned his attention toward the Malig Knight and called out to him, "Sergeant Tarn Razar! You are to accompany me to my office at once."

The command was simple enough. Concise and to the point. Leon never cared for the flowery platitudes or all of the pomp and circumstance that usually accompanied royal visits. Father had given him an assignment and he intended to finish it - superfluous traditions be damned. The Prince started toward his office, not once turning back to see if the Knight came to trail after him. His orders were clear enough and if this man proved too daft to follow them to a "T", then there were other military dogs to select from. His foot falls echoed throughout the corridors, and tapered off into the dark ceiling above. Two guards stood dutifully at their posts on either side of the heavy oak doors that lead into the Prince's office. After saluting the Mage-Prince, they moved to swing the doors open.

Someone had already seen to it that the office be prepared for the third son's arrival, as evidenced by the roaring fire in the fire place and the refreshments that had recently been set out on a small side table by the wall. The boy unfastened his cloak as he strode across the carpeted floor and draped the violet fabric over the high back of his chair. He lowered himself into his chair behind his desk and looked upon Tarn with a critical expression. "It should be known that while I may be one of the youngest among my siblings, my expectations are by no means less than theirs. I expect my orders to be followed without question and I expect results. If that much is clear, I will ask you now:  do you believe that you are competent to serve and ready for the task I am to assign you?"