Flurry of Blades

Daphne's mouth gaped open, her heart thumping as the sword pierced the space an inch above her face. She could feel the coolness of its blade as it sliced through the air, and she could see a sliver of blue sky from where the sword had struck the wood.

The moment this blade found flesh, it would draw blood, and not only a little bit of blood at that.

She dared to turn her head slightly.

The Northern King remained rather unfazed, his expression not betraying any hint of anxiety or confusion. After all, it wasn't like he could die from this anyway.

The sword stabbed again, trying to find its mark as it made yet another hole in the carriage.

A frightening image of a skull being split open briefly crossed her mind, but the fear was short-lived, replaced instead by a stroke of inspiration.

She took a deep breath.

Mustering all the force she could, Daphne pushed the Northern King forward, bringing herself forward alongside him and bracing herself for the worst. She could only hope that if her own skull was split open, it wouldn't hurt as she would be dead on the spot.

She anticipated the flash of silver.

The blade landed exactly where the man's head had been a moment prior, and he spared a half-surprised look in her direction as if confused that she would try to save him.

But Daphne could only curse at her own stupidity. She thought the assassin would keep on trying to target the center, not that he would suddenly move his attention to the side. She was trying to help that idiot, for goodness sake.

Stifling a sigh of frustration, Daphne felt a weight on top of her as he enveloped her body into his. Before she knew it, she was entirely wrapped in a protective embrace, unable to move at all.

Drawing a line down the center of the ceiling, the assassin split the carriage in two. The blue sky was now fully in view, and they were exposed.

Daphne couldn't do as much as move her head, so she was frozen in this awkward angle, seeing only glimpses of the battle.

There was another assassin...

And another...

As soon as the two of them were exposed into full view, it seemed as if every other assassin abandoned the carriage they were assigned to and rushed toward the two of them.

Dressed in the clothes of the people of Eversun, they looked to be no more than ordinary farmers or roadside merchants. They had their faces covered with coarse black and white pieces of cloth that seemed to be torn from rags. However, their uniform weapons and fighting style betrayed their true intentions. These were no common folk. They were skilled assassins, trained to take the lives of their targets without a single word.

"It's time to die, tyrant."

Daphne closed her eyes, hating that the last of her moments would be in the embrace of the Northern King. At the very least, she would die on her own land, if she could still call it as such.

She could feel vibrations as the Northern King let out a low chuckle.

He pushed against the remains of the carriage, jumping to the ground and setting her against a tree.

Wait for me here." He flashed her a reassuring smile. "It will only be a minute."

They were surrounded by a small ring of assassins, and the Northern soldiers formed yet another circle around the smaller one, their weapons raised.

"It's time to die, tyrant. We're here to reclaim our home."

The Northern King whipped out a set of dual blades, stretching his neck towards one side and then the other until there was a soft crack.

"Is it now? What do you peasants think you can do to me when even your armies couldn't take my life?"

Daphne didn't know if he was truly dumb, or if he wasn't familiar with the actual commoners of the Kingdom of Eversun. After all, even she could tell that they were not people from simple backgrounds. No matter what their legitimate backgrounds were, if they could kill this king, then they would be allies of her.

The assassins charged, swinging their blades into the air from odd angles. Looking almost bored, the Northern King deflected all of them, his own swords dancing through the air. In the midst of the chaos, he looked to be almost dancing gracefully in the air as he leapt and jumped with trained precision.

A few Northern soldiers had also joined the fight, but Daphne noticed how the remainder of them simply remained stations at their former positions, not even twitching a muscle as they watched their king put his life at risk.

They drove the assassins into smaller pockets, with around two soldiers allocated per assassin and leaving one assassin to poke at their king.

It was only a matter of a few seconds that Daphne could tell the assassin fighting the Northern King was the leader of the pack. Although she was not well versed in martial arts, she could see that this assassin's movements were smoother and faster than the others, almost like a viper striking his target continuously as every stroke of his blade was intended to kill.

The Northern King was originally doing well, but soon, it was obvious that his movements were growing slower. Perhaps the assassin had nicked him in the arm or leg, Daphne reasoned. But with his rates of healing, those simple wounds should have had no effect on him and instead heal within seconds.

Maybe he wasn't untouchable after all, and what happened the other night was simply an uncommon occasion.

The assassin firmly rested the blade on the Northern King's neck.