The Sinister Gaze

After a sumptuous dinner, Everyone sat with comfort in the living room, except for Freidmirth. Cradled by Lucy's arms, his eyes glared at Anasthasia. Meanwhile, she was taken aback from his hostility.

'I wonder what it is right now? Looking at his bloated belly, It shouldn't be the case—' Her eyes widened as realization dawned upon her. Freidmirth's eyes lit ablaze as she got the gist of his expression.

Anasthasia chortled for a while before she talked about it, "Oh my! I didn't think I forgot to get it."

Freidmirth's growl caused Lucy to panic for a while.

"Sister Ana, did we miss something?"

"We sure did! I forgot to retrieve the gift that I bought from that store!" Anasthasia's mouth covered with her fingertips. Her pleading gaze darted between Freidmirth and Lucy.

As though the odds were in her favor, Lucy caught her intentions and hollered back, "Right! How can we skip that! Do you need some help?" She then shifted her gaze, a cold one, at the twins. They shuddered indiscretion.

Freidmirth squinted his eyes at Anasthasia, who smiled and crossed her ankles. He arched his neck, glancing at Lucy, who also smiled at him dearly.

"Alright! I believe in you." He let out a smoky huff.

Lucy gave a wink, and Anasthasia giggled from the response.

"For that, I'll be borrowing him for a while." She jolted from her seat and grabbed Michael by the arm. He was equally shocked, just like everyone else in the room. "We shall get going then.

Words failed to escape his lips as his face clouded with confusion. Before he could respond, Anasthasia dragged him, and they waltzed out of the room. Leaving by the door, they accelerated down the street.

"Tasha! Hold up!" he howled, but the wind blasted them as they went on and on: his eyes squinted as it brought tears in his eyes and with gritted teeth, his gums outstretched. The sceneries on the streets whizzed into different streaks of colors.

Michael used his powers but not enough to equate Anasthasia's insane speed limit.

"I can't hear you!" Anasthasia playfully replied.

Knowing she wouldn't take no for an answer, he could only bear with her for a while, or at least he thought.

Soon, her steps slowed and, finally, to a full stop. Michael grumbled himself, which would upend his insides. He looked so ragged as he propped both hands on his knees with quickened breaths.

Anasthasia twisted her heel, facing him in glee. On the other hand, he kneaded his head from sudden vertigo that assaulted him. It took him for a while for his senses to recover.

"I guess that was too much."

"Far too much, Tasha." He raked his hair, smoothed down his outfit—hands on the crimson rayon fabric sleeves and black trousers, and donned back his ash gray cloak.

"My bad," she giggled. "Though, do you know where I can find some high-quality armors and weapons?"

"What for?"

"Nothing." she trailed off her voice, which only narrowed his eyes further. "Michael, seriously, I need to get my hands on it."

"Is this some deal you had with Freidmirth?"

Anasthasia hummed. "Indeed. He's been nagging me for days."

With that, Michael rubbed his chin. "I do know the location. But it's rather far from here."

"Well, wherever that is. Lead the way."

He nodded, he then turned around and watched his cloak spun and fluttered with every stride he made.

Anasthasia stood for a moment, with a severe gaze, as she noticed the same ominous intent that bore into her. This time, she assured herself this person aimed at her and not from the people around her.

'This person never hid his intentions. I'd see where this goes.'

She began to strut, trying to catch up to him. Though it was the time and place that made a perfect set-up for the assailant to pounce, it never bothered her in any way. Her languid moves never deviate from her upkeep vigilance.

'It's been minutes since we walked. Shall I ask if I could give him a sprint for this—' Anasthasia saw how his eyes glinted with alertness. 'Maybe he noticed as well.'

Their strolls grew too loud thuds, and clacks as the crowd's everyday noises died out before their ears. Their steps imbued with plop and splash of pudding waters.

The place got dimmer and dimmer; at the moment, she could only rely on her nose and ears with the rancid smell that reeked and lingered the air and sounds that abuzz from the men that bum around the street corner respectively.

Several gaps lit up candles. Needless to say, those didn't provide vision in the area, but Anasthasia took a glimpse of their hungry and sinister stares—but not as great as the ones she had in mind.

She could hear some flirtatious giggles a couple of yards away from them. Their bickers and casual laughs didn't irk her one bit. There was one thing she thought of in her mind.

'Is this part of the slums?'

She could assume and jump into the conclusion for several tries but then stopped as Michael shifted his direction, coming close to the door.

Anasthasia widened her eyes, peeking through the foggy windows in rotten board frames. Nothing deemed special together with the same motif of the door.

She was so surprised from his next attempt.

Michael never knocked.

He swung the door that heralded the ghastly songs along with the tingling chimes of the bell somewhere in the room. Going in, this time, had her curious about the thick ounce of metal smelts and rusts.

'This is it. I'm finally here.'

What surrounded her was different wood lines that ripened and cracked with age. It was a typical blacksmith room. But that didn't catch attention in her eyes as they darted back and forth on the myriad display of weapons.

'Those are of high-quality weapons. I'm impressed.'

The loud and heavy clanks, moving further, echoed in monotonous tones. Thereon, she saw the blazing flames roared from the furnace and formed a dark silhouette of the man, carrying as what she presumed as a maul, normalizing the blade on the anvil.

Anasthasia understood the concentration of a blacksmith needed so she stood there like she never existed. Her eyes continued to marvel at the sight.

'This reminded me of my younger years.' Her cheeky grin surprised Michael, who eyed sideways, taking notice of her as though she understood what laid in front of her by heart.

The man let out a huff and placed down the maul. He then smeared an ounce of clay unto the spine of the blade, submerged the glowing sword unto the vat of oil, smoke hissed the air.

All of a sudden, raging flames crept up and threw tantrums in the air, but none of them flinched.

The blacksmith stood upright—his stature not inferior to Michael's—turned around, and his golden eyes glued immediately at him. "You have no manners, for a crown prince like you, Michael."

Michael shrugged at his response. "Not that I needed to be so courteous on my childhood friend?"

'Oh? So I see—'

"And who is this esteemed lady coming here in this musky, rusty place? In the broad nighttime?"

"My name is Ana. I'm pleased to meet you," she responded accordingly.

"An important guest of Michael, I see." The man harrumphed. "Jack," he muttered before turning around.

'His actions are no different from the rest of the artisans, and I understand where they're coming from.'

She widened her eyes as she could feel the ominous gaze, right now, turned stronger and stifling. Jack and Michael noticed and started to move but halted their advances.

"I'll go check it myself." She twisted her heel, but her arms ensnared by his firm grasp. Michael's monstrous strength that set her in place.

"Ana, don't. It's dangerous." he cautioned as a pleading tone coated every word.

"Weigh the consequences, Michael. A crown prince like you mustn't be harmed from mundane events. Should you get wounded, you'll never get praised by the nobles, but only ridicule awaits."

"That's—"

"Trust me, and I got this. If you want, I'll send you a signal so I'd ask for reinforcements."

Michael nodded, and his fingers slowly let go of her, brushing his fingertips on her fair skin.

Anasthasia mouthed hearty gratitude and brisked her way out of the smithy. Upon closing the door, she glanced at the dark alleyway. The darkness loomed as such as his ominous stench hovered the air.

She took a small detour, her steps grew lightweight and never abuzz since. Her chest thumped hard, akin to her ragged breathing. At a stop, she calmed herself down and called him out.

"Show yourself!"

As soon as she uttered, a mysterious figure pounced her that pinned her on the damp and crusty wall.

But not even the physical pain made up her rattling heart when she recognized the voice.

'This voice.'

"Found you."