Liatris
It was not the first time that someone had commented on his unique tongue. There were two kinds of people that he had met on his travels that have commented on his speech: there were the ones that would say something nice; then they would proceed to avoid him like a lunatic plague, and then there were the ones that were quite fond of his 'differences' and would become patrons to his secret missions or just someone who enjoyed his stories. The blonde younger male believed his new acquaintance would be the one to enjoy his stories. But now was not the good time to be focusing on such matters as the king himself was speaking to all the gathered mercenaries.
Going on a mystic quest to find the legendary sword that no one had seen for a puzzling amount of time seemed quite romantic. It was like those tales that he would tell or his other acquaintances would tell about brave heroes who, on the world's brink of destruction would save the world by gathering a secret weapon never known to mankind-the process would involve a sparkling friendship, a deadly rivalry and some sweet character development. He loved those stories and told many himself-though he had never been in one of those high scale journeys himself. It was never in his job description but the young blonde was giddy with excitement, oh the tales he could spin, if his groupie were to delve into the depths of a cavern of trials filled to the brim with dangerous hungry beasts and sitting at the back would be the legendary sword. Killing a lone prince was certainly part of his job description, though it was the much lesser priority in his mind-near the bottom in fact. The king finished his speech.
Amongst all the people that had gathered he noticed a red head closest to the king. In fact it was difficult not to notice him as he stood out from the rag tag bunch of sweaty armor and worn leather. He glittered. Liatris had never seen the prince of Roune before, which was hardly surprising. He was just a mere assassin-not that he was incompetent-it was probably just by pure fate that he would never meet a member of the ruling family until now. At one point he had worked for a nobleman of the court although, under no name and a disguise to hide himself from his client. Even though he had traversed through the halls of royalty he had never seen one during his missions.
The prince seemed displeased with their rag tag group. He did not trust them with the sword or killing the prince of Valein.
A test of power was hardly what Liatris wanted to do. It was like showing his cards to the random gamblers in the den, then they know what an individual needs. Of course one of the most terrible scenarios pop up as he was having a brief joyous moment about the sword. Testing a sword hand would mean no killing, no killing meant there was no quick win, no quick win meant that he would be drawn into a long disgusting fight, the male hated sweating for useless reasons. If these men were fated to die finding the sword or killing the prince, then so be it. Was a test necessary?
Liatris sighed at the thought, allowing a face of disgust to cross his features awaiting for the next moment for details.