A View to a Kill (Sweet Simplicity, I)ragon, Quark)

Had he a proper knife and fork on hand, Kestrel could have cut and eaten the silence. Thirty-nine eyes bulged out of twenty heads, the same number of mouths hanging open in shock and horror. Kestrel flipped his eye patch up, bringing the number of bulging eyes up to the proper forty. The main hall stretched up above the court, graceful stone arches running along the room’s length. Colorful tapestries, gilded with gold inlays and framed by silver tassels were hung along each wall, quivering in the icy Midwinter drafts that drifted in from the tall, open church windows. Columns decorated with fanciful carvings of mythic beasts and heroes stood amid the hall in regular intervals. A balcony ran along the three walls opposing the grand throne at one end of the hall, ringed in by thick stone rails. A thin, icy layer coated the hard stone, the bottoms peaking as icicles began to form. Guards, large, burly men stood sharply at attention, shoulder-to-shoulder along all three balconies, armed with swords, crossbows, and pikes long enough to reach down to the floor below. Yet despite years of training, despite their reputations at the king’s very best elite, they still fidgeted, craning their necks forward to get a good view of the Court below. At one end of the grand hall, the great double doors stood flung wide open, courtiers still milling through in a thick press of human bodies even while a bell in some far off tower continued to ring in the Court Hour.

At the other end stood the king’s throne, a grand and expensive structure gilded in gold and silver, with several large jewels inlaid in the back and arms. Rich, royal purple velvet covered the mighty cushions on the seat and back. Possessing as close a vantage point as he did (close enough that he was in danger of forever staining his fine black boots with the liquid slowly creeping towards him), Kestrel could count each tiny pip of condensation on the underside of the throne’s great arms. And in the seat of the throne was the king himself, clad in a wondrous, rich blue and purple robe, a silk and velvet tunic and similar breeches, his golden crown sitting neatly atop his balding head.

Too bad he was dead, his crimson blood flowing freely from the horrid, gaping knife wound in his throat to pool at the stunned coburtiers’—and Kestrel’s—feet. The knife in question sat in the king’s own dead, limp hands. Blood ran down the cold, steel blade, curving around the contours of the hilt to drip into the still puddle of it’s own kind. Each drip sent a simultaneous shiver up the spines of everyone in the room, the echo of each tiny drop rippling through the dead silence.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

“Ahh . . . well, I don’t know quite how to say this . . .” The Seneschal said, discomforted, his finger tips meeting and parting several times over as he searched for the proper words, considering the current situation. The richly dressed man had pulled Kestrel aside after marshalling the guards into clearing the great hall. “You see, my good man, while I understand that you were promised a position for the winter, current . . . circumstances . . . Ahh . . .” The man stumbled for words, unsure just how to dismiss the Gypsy. Kestrel’s mouth quivered as he attempted to restrain himself for grinning at the Seneschal’s discomfort. The king had just been murdered; this was no time for grins and gaiety. The Seneschal cleared his throat, apparently having sorted out the jumble of chaos and confusion within his mind.

“My good sir, while you did prove your worth in the competition, current circumstances prove no need for your services, and I’m afraid that your presence here—” A hand clasped down on the Seneschal’s shoulder, startling the man and making him jump a little off the ground. A younger man, only a little older than Kestrel, stepped out from behind the Seneschal. Although taller than the Seneschal, the man stood eye-to-eye with the Gypsy. He was well muscled from years of training, and his tight, velvet tunic of reds and purples did little to hide that fact. His oaken brown hair was slicked back in much the same manner as Kestrel’s, but unlike the Gypsy’s, it was full of long braids, creating a striped pattern of braided and smooth. His face was warm and welcoming, rich and smooth from years of luxury. A pair ruby studs sat in each ear, and both hands housed several large and expensive rings.

“My Lord Edward.” Kestrel and the Seneschal said in unison, each giving a low bow; the Seneschal’s nervous and stiff, Kestrel’s mocking and dramatic. The Prince Edward Orthallen waved his hand in mild recognition.

Now, now, Gartheser,” the Prince said, clasping the Seneschal’s shoulder again, “Surely we cannot deprive our friend his reward because of external circumstances.” The Prince turned a comforting smile of Kestrel, a smile that made the musician’s blood run cold rather than comfort him.

“My condolences for your father.” Kestrel said coolly, inclining his head politely. “His loss grieves us all. And perhaps Gartheser is right. I should leave. I’ve no wish to intrude in your time of mourning.” The black-haired man said evenly, straining his ears to detect every note in the Prince’s response.

“Ah, no, please. I’ve no wish to rob you of your reward. Please, stay and easy our court’s grieving with your music.”

Kestrel frowned beneath the shadow of his hat. The Prince’s voice gave no hint of grief or sense of loss at all. “I’m afraid that I might not have the proper music required for your current situation, my Lord.”

“Nonsense, musician. I’m sure that you could find something that could ease our hearts during this time.” The Prince shot back evenly.

“Very well, milord. As you wish.”

<====}=0 – 0={====>

The great hall had been quarantined; the double doors roped off and guarded by six men, the windows closed and patrolled by two groups of four, and the hallways on the second floor leading to the balcony blocked off by makeshift guard offices. Kestrel sighed, a silver coin rolling back and forth between his fingers. How ever did he manage to land himself in the middle of a murder? A king’s murder, no less. How? Easily, that’s how. Just like always. Lured by the promise of a wintering-over position in the king’s court. A grand enough prize for whomever won the musician’s contest. A backwater kingdom, full of nothing but talented amateurs, provided little competition. Kestrel had won easily, and just as easily found himself in the midst of trouble. The Gypsy grinned. Whatever happened, this was going to make for a wonderful song.

And his grin did not falter as he looked up to survey his new quarters. This was considerably more than he had hoped for. His new room was simply luxurious. A four-poster bed stood at one end, a great church window overlooking it. Violet curtains surrounded the bed, hiding a mountain of lush pillows and silky sheets. An oaken desk stood against the right wall, a plush chair sitting beckoningly before it. An armoire sat opposite it, Kestrel’s belongings already comfortably at home inside it. The Gypsy’s grin grew. A wonderful song indeed.


OoC: Alright, as you can clearly see, this is a murder-mystery-who-done-it-oh-my-god-what-is-to-happen story. Therefor, try and choose characters that aren't combat-based (since there will be very little fighting). Here, we shall become detectives, not warriors!

Also, I have put a great many hints as to the king's murder (no, he didn't kill himself) in this post. So you all know, I already have the who/how/why of it planned out, but nothing else. If any of you think you've figured any of the three out, feel free to pm me. I might give out a special prize to whomever does.

OoC: Hints? Your subtlety amuses me, Hyrulian Hero. Kami’s in the sig.

IC:

Crowds. The idea of so many people in one place repulsed Kami. Why would the Earth be made so large just for people to flock together in hopeless bunches. The sooner he was out of this industrial mess the better, but curiosity had won the fight over his next destination. All around him masses of people bustled about frantically at their unusual business; formal offices and buildings were shut tight amidst the anxiety of the intriguing situation. The shy elf had dressed perfectly normally for the sad occasion, but soon found out he was a tad underdressed.

Black had all of a sudden become the only colour adorned in the prosperous city, for everywhere people were dressed in intricately designed – yet hastily coloured – robes and dresses. Kami wasn’t surprised; humans died too often. He pushed the thoughts outside his head and focused on avoiding the shuffling people surrounding him. The source of his curiosity was a castle – and a murder scene. The building itself was supposed to be an architectural wonder, filled with gravity-defying staircases and near-miraculous amounts of rare building materials. Perhaps such a fine building could finally sway him onto ideas of construction.

Getting close to the castle could be a challenge. Obviously, this event had attracted quite a few people. The front and side gates were heavily guarded by security, relations and dangerously curious citizens of the mourning town. Kami would have to scale the walls or find another way in if he wanted to survey the building – and situation – unnoticed. He glanced at his surroundings sharply. Crowds swarmed around the three entrances, hardly diverting their attention to notice anything going on around them. If he timed it correctly (and had the advantage of darkness on his side) slipping inside the walls wouldn’t be too much of a problem. For now though, when sunlight illuminated all deeds, he would find shelter in one of the few inns on the outskirts of the town.

****
Kami liked darkness. It allowed him to conduct whatever deeds he needed to conduct in peaceful privacy. The glaring moon was enveloped in dark clouds that particular night, and Kami let a smile escape his lips as he gazed up at the sky. The inn he had chosen to stay at had no information on the situation at the castle, but had a few mildly interesting story-tellers in a corner to keep him entertained. He had left the bar feeling confident about the adventure ahead of him. The swarms would most likely be there, but the same as last time, their attention would be focused on nothing but the elegant courtyard that was clearly visible through the bars of the large black gates.

His assumptions were (not surprisingly) correct. The plain white walls were faintly illuminated by lanterns hanging from halberds that the fidgety guards held in their hands. Upon surveying his surroundings, Kami opted to climb from the West side. There was only a small crowd there, yet it still led to the scene of the crime. The North and East gates were plagued with mourning villagers, while the south side involved scaling the entire castle to get to the courtyard and entrance.

The villagers waited with silent impatience at the gate. They obviously expected a court official to emerge from the castle entrance and tell them everything about the event. Kami knew they were wrong, or at least, he expected they were wrong; perhaps this was why he opted to gain the knowledge himself. The tall man dashed swiftly about the crowd, trying not to draw attention to himself with his garish attire. He remained unnoticed as he put his left hand to the wall. Although it was painted one solid colour, there were firm indents where cement had been put in place. Scaling the wall should be no chore at all.

Making sure nobody was watching, Kami slowly began climbing the mountainous fortification. He soon realised that its size more than made up for its crude construction. By the time he dared to look down, the crowd was well below him and fast fading into nothing. He had passed the dangerous part of his climb, now he just had to remain on the wall. He turned his head to the sky again and resumed his climb. To the elf’s pleasant surprise, the wall ended abruptly with a pale cream stone finish on the top perfect for sitting on. He slid on top of the wall, pondering the way best to get down. Darkness had become a disadvantage at this point, for he could no longer see the surface below him. In hindsight, he should have checked before starting to climb.

Kami swiftly calculated how long it had taken him to climb the wall. The fall would definitely hurt if he did it the wrong way, but if executed correctly, he could ensure a safe landing. The man silently shifted his weight off the stone and braced his legs for the shock that would reach them when they touched the ground. Earth flew fast upon him and he lunged his weight downwards as he fell. Most of the pain was absorbed, but a faint tingling remained in the balls of his feet. Kami glanced around to make sure the coast was clear then slid from one decoration to another, making sure to avoid the eerie circles of light that the decorative lamps cast. Finally, he reached a hedge close to the entrance to the castle and slipped onto the doorstep. He silently pulled the doors inward to reveal a wide stone chamber devoid of life. Stepping inside, Kami was one step closer to satisfying painful curiosity.

Wow, she’s pretty. Jarek thought to himself, eyeing a particular girl walking down the street. She made eye contact with him, but he couldn’t quite determine what she was thinking. She looked like quite the important person, having several heavily armored guards walking alongside her. She was in black like everyone else was in this city, why that was Jarek didn’t know or care. He watched her as she watched him, dumbfounded and speechless. Jarek had seen many beautiful women today, but this was the first that had actually looked back at him with mild interest.

He watched as she disappeared behind two very large double doors. Jarek smirked; did he have a chance with a girl like that? Heck no, but he could still try. However, it wasn’t until he approached the large doors that he realized what building it was she entered: The castle, king’s home in other words. Could she have been royalty? Or maybe she was just a stewardess… a very pretty stewardess… whatever a stewardess was.

Jarek hadn’t been to cities like this one quite often, but he found this one rather odd compared to the rest. Maybe he just stopped by on the wrong day, but for some reason everyone looked depressed and was wearing black. Either way, this sort of stuff wasn’t really on his mind at the moment, right then he was determined to follow that rather attractive young lady that caught his eye.

He approached the guards, deciding if simply walking by would work. They saw him coming, promptly stepping in his path.

“Halt, no one enters.” One of the guards warned.

Not good. Jarek quickly fished his mind and decided to make it up as he went. “What? Don’t you know who I am?” The guards exchanged glances, obviously not knowing who he was. “Why, I’m the great… uh… Jarek Von Roonington, master entertainer of his majesty’s court.”

The guards stared rather dumbly at him for a few moments. It looked as if one would laugh, but he appeared too sad to do so. “His majesty is dead.”

This was news to Jarek, but he tried not to react to it. If only he had his sister’s luck. “Of… course he’s dead silly, I’m here to help ease his passing by providing entertainment to his guests and relatives.”

The guards again exchanged glances. “Uh, you’re not quite dressed for the occasion.”

Jarek already had an answer to this one. “Of course not, my gear and equipment is inside, why would I wear it on the way here?”

The guards thought it through for a moment before finally giving in. “Ok, go on through, you look goofy enough to be an entertainer anyway.”

Jarek bowed and entered swiftly, shrugging off the goofy comment… for now.

Her eyes widened as she entered the city walls. Never before had she seen such a magnificent city. Which was saying a lot, since the largest city she had ever been to before was a decent sized port town. And of course, this only added more to her excitement. With all the hundreds of houses, the eloquent towers, the massive outer walls, the thousands of people, the capital was almost overwhelming to her. It brought back memories of the countless story’s Grampy used to tell her, The ones of armies and heroes, dragons and sorcerers, and kings and queens. She wondered if she would get to meet the king or queen. The girl could already see the majestic castle far off in the distance. A wide grin spread across her lips and she flapped her wings in excitement,

“Oops.” She said after realizing her cloak had just fallen to the ground. She barely noticed as most everyone in the immediate area stopped what they where doing to stare at the odd creature before them. The demon gathered her cloak and started to fold it up so she could put it in her bag.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young man staring at her, his head turned to the side. She leaned over slightly, tilting her head, trying to get his attention. Little did she know, she had most everyone’s attention. Now the boy turned his head to look at her, perplexed even more by her interest in him. She gave him a big, open-mouthed smile and waved. A look of confusion and slight disgust greeted her sapphire eyes as the boy backpedaled away from her, soon turning away and veering behind a building. Her lip pouted slightly, her eyes saddening. Only then did she notice the couple on the balcony staring at her. Then the man sweeping, and the woman behind her shop. Her tail whipped from side to side and her brow furrowed as she spun around in place, everyone seeming to be looking at her, or just then returning to they’re own busyness. The fact that they were almost all wearing black passed right over her head.

Absentmindedly she looked down at her blue and striped hands, remembering her repeated warnings not to show herself to so many, and the consequences of the times she had. With a sad look on her face, she stuffed the rest of her cloak into her bag and flapped her cyan wings, bringing herself up over the buildings.

Her sadness didn’t last long as she gazed down at the metropolitan below. The view was even better from up here. Here, she could admire the fascinating building structures and roadways, all the people in the markets, the grand buildings like the churches, libraries, spacious taverns and amphitheaters. Akira looked up at the castle, taking in the wonderful sight, the likes of which she had never seen before. She flapped her wings a few times, eagerly making her way towards the stronghold. Maybe she would get to see the King or queen. She smiled as she soared though the sky. The castle took a surprisingly long time to get to, or maybe it just seemed closer then it really was. The winged demon glided down as she approached the citadel, folding her wings in as she sailed through a tower buttress. She then flapped her wings a few times, ascending up the side of another tower. This was the most fun she’d had in a while.

The demon flicked her tail as she spotted a few men on the wall as she passed over it. One of them pointed to her and she waved down at him. No sooner had she dropped her hand back down, then an object flew up to meet her. It was extremely small and very quick. She examined that it was made out of wood as it passed her, like a stick. How odd. Another one soon came up to follow the first one. This time she had to move her wing out of the way as it zoomed by her. The blue demon then remembered this happening once before. It had been in another town, one of the first ones she had ever gone to. One of these things had pierced her wing then and had caused her a severe amount of pain. A look of worriedment filled her blue eyes as another stick flew by her.

“Stop that please! They will pierce my wings!” The cat girl called down to the men, waving her hands in the air. Of course they could barely here her. Two more projectiles came up at her and she was just barely able to dodge in time. Panicked, the blue girl ascended higher, flying away from the men on the roof. It wasn’t long before another stick flew at her. She looked around to see many men on the roof of the walls before her. Where had they all come from? Had they always been there? And why were they all shooting things at her?

The demon girl flapped her wings harder, trying to escape the onslaught of sticks. Akira yelped in pain as an arrow finally made its mark, ripping threw her right wing. She tumbled down through the darkening sky, her mind cloudy from the pain in her wing. She struggled to regain control, glancing around franticly as she came closer to the castle walls. She strenuously righted herself, finally being able to focus on her surroundings. Her panic doubled as she realized just how close to the wall she was. Giving out a high pitched yelp, she flapped her left wing hard, just barely turning her enough to send her through a large window. She brought her arms up over her head, subconsciously creating shields of ice on her forearms as she burst through the stained glass. She landed on something very soft, shards of glass cutting into her skin as she bounced off the soft object and landed on her back in the middle of a room. She winced in pain, lying there for several seconds before opening her eyes, her vision blurry. Her fury ears twitched as she heard the sound of movement. The demon tilted her head and narrowed her blue eyes, trying to bring into focus the person that stood in the doorway.

“Hello.” She said politely, her voice just above a whisper. Her lips gave a weak smile before her face contorted again in pain.

OoC: Humm, That’s not a very good post. But I’m too lazy to change it! =D and crashing through windows is fun.