Setting
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Instead, the guardsman lowered his hand with a quiet sigh, turned on his heels, and headed towards where he remembered the Chancellor’s quarters to be. He was still unsure why the dark elf was there, as he had personally seen the guest list. There was one extra member in the elven party, and being his biased self, Karem was certain as to who that person might be. While the Embassy was always prepared for such unexpected events, the guardsman was less than pleased with the results.
Such thoughts brought back the less than pleasant memories of the dinner. The light fog of tiredness was temporarily shed as the primal caveman inside him growled. Slowly, but surely, his blood grew hotter.
If he hadn’t shown his bloody face – now those memories were brought forth.
Needless to say, by the time Karem reached Calihal’s ornate doors, he was ready to jump at the opportunity to unleash every bit of vengeful bitterness that his antagonist had unearthed. The reasoning being that he was first defending Sylwyn’s honor, and then his own. In truth, it was both in equal measure, but that was not the point at the moment. The caveman could not be contained any longer.
With all the force of the wind, Karem used the knocker twice, then the side of his fist to make his presence known to everyone behind the doors.
“Open the doors,” he ordered, looking at both the guards, who had stood at attention immediately upon his arrival.
"Open the doors," the senior guardsman ordered, and the other man searched his gaze in a fleeting show of apprehension that suggested he both saw and understood the rage boiling beneath the surface of Karem's angry expression.
Something unspoken passed between them, from man to man. The guard could almost taste the blood in the air, but he nodded curtly, relaxing his stance and motioning for his comrade to follow suit.
"Shift changes in ten minutes," he responded with an understated, almost authoritative air, reminding him of the need to quickly wrap up his business.
Both guards gripped the round wrought iron handles on either side and swung the doors wide open.
Inside, the room was dark except for the faint, diffused light of the fully risen moons flickering between the curtains as they fluttered in the breeze coming in through the open double window. As Karem's eyes adjusted, finding discernible shapes among the hulking silhouettes throughout- an oak dresser, bookcase, nightstand and a mannequin wearing shimmering mithril- the stateroom appeared vacant, save a lone, motionless figure seated on the left side of the bed.
It is rumored that dark elves never sleep, that the dreamlessness in which they may achieve a still, quieted mind can only be described as euphoric. Branded hedonistic debauchers by the other races, the children of the night self-describe this as akin to that of reaching orgasm, the moment one reaches perfect bliss, before unveiling the world, in clarity, anew. Many have tried to attain this state of being and failed. The blue-skins, quick-tempered and boorish, were predictable more often than not, but it was only amid the silence which followed their transcendence that fear pierced the hearts of their foes, for it was then they were truly dangerous.
"Do come in," Titus answered coolly, without opening his eyes, not at first.
Then, Karem found himself staring into crimson hues glittering darkly back at him.
"But, pray, lest you violate the sanctity of my private space, leave your inimicality at the door."
He stepped into the stateroom silently and looked around slowly as his eyes adjusted. The stillness and quiet moonlight made it seem empty, until his gaze fell upon the statue of a humanoid figure. The form held a meditative aura around it, one he recognized. Although he had assumed such a state himself, seeing Calihal like this made him think of the stories of Dark Elves going mad afterwards - exploding tempers, uncharacteristic mood swings, violent lashings. Karem would put none of these things past the Chancellor. His own boiling blood did not help.
Karem scowled at the first comment. His hackles rose at what he saw behind that bloodred gaze, but he stood his ground. Then the request. " But, pray, lest you violate the sanctity of my private space, leave your inimicality at the door." What an uncharacteristic thing to say . . .
"Too late for that. The violence has been done," said Karem calmly as he unsheathed his scimitar. "Time to settle it."
His voice was calm, but every muscle was ready for anything. This was the first time Karem had personally drawn a weapon for non simulation purposes before the Chancellor. The last time, he had simply allowed his archers to fire their warning shots. Calihal had asked for it in both circumstances, really.
Still, Calihal responded only wth an air of distaste, like he had just sipped from a glass of fermented wine. "How typical. Blunder in to defend the woman in which you hope to stake your claim spilling your bastard seed...charming, really. Even a man of your station can do much better than a lecherous murderer," he emphasized the words, taking care to enunciate each syllable as if speaking to a child. "Oh! Do forgive my impudence. Did the lord's daughter leave out that tidbit when she lifted her skirts for you?"
The Chancellor rose, slowly, clasped hands falling to his sides, that Karem saw he looked unarmed, the loose, plunging neckline of his ruffled white blouse contrasting the dark contours of his chest in the gloom as he stood and spread his hands disarmingly, his gaze falling briefly to the blade in Karem's hand. "Never mind bothering a lowly guardsman as yourself with trivial details." He then locked eyes with Karem again, too, with blood in his eyes, a fury unmatched except by, perhaps, Karem's own, but his tone was dead calm. "Of course, you do realize the implications of actively drawing your weapon upon an Imperial Statesman, let alone on government property?"
Calihal's outward calm only infuriated Karem further. Whatever foreplay the chancellor was playing at, he just wanted to get to the point. Karem had been essentially challenged to this fight, had he not? Or was Calihal truly such a unique mix of cocky and bastard that he had not realized what he was doing? In any case, weapon drawn, Karem was now committed.
With no warning other than the one he had already given, the guardsman flowed smoothly into an offensive stance and slashed his curved blade from Calihal's waist to the opposite shoulder. The high contrast between his skin and clothing made the target easy to see.
"Self defense," breathed Karem shortly, putting all his thunder into his movements. "You threatened the Embassy's senior guardsman, remember? Bad move."
The memory of the short but vehement words that had passed between Calihal and Sylywn earlier that day regarding accusations of murder flashed in his mind. Being too young to remember said events, Karem had no idea what to make of it, and knew only that the bitterness of losing a mate could make one willing to believe anything that would help alleviate some of the suffering. And also that loving another could make one equally biased. Not that this changed Karem's firm belief that the chancellor deserved to have each extremity sliced off and the life bleed out of him. Not at all.
Where Calihal preferred to throw words and shadows at him, Karem decided that the only way to settle this score was man to man. Whether or not it would end in fatality was not important now. In fact, he would prefer to have Calihal feel the pain and live with it. For now. He was ready for the fight and whatever fate it brought.
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