A Narcissist

"Which bastard was it?" Cassian muttered, his vision blurring after taking two blows to the head—first from the shadowy sword, and then from hitting the ground.

"Are you alright, my friend?" a voice asked, sounding concerned. It was clearly a man's voice, but it carried the politeness usually found in noblewomen. Cassian couldn't make out who it was, but the person helped him to his feet. As his vision cleared, he finally saw the one responsible for his current state and as well as his rescuer.

The man was tall, with a clean-shaven, handsome face, blue hair, and deep blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. His polite smile lingered as he regarded Cassian. "I must say, you really are dedicated to whatever it was you were doing—so much that you're willing to hurt yourself for it." His tone was impressed, leaving Cassian confused as the man continued, "But what were you practicing for? If that's what you were doing?"