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Isolte's whisper was so close that Allen could practically taste the humid warmth of her breath—an intimacy undercut by her urgent tone.
"James wouldn't dare act recklessly in the capital," she murmured, lips barely moving. "Grandmother said both the last and current royal succession battles were rife with underhanded tactics, but only because the king allowed it—to select a ruler with the cunning to lead Asura. No matter which nobles back which heir, their schemes still demonstrate 'loyalty' to the kingdom."
Her words came rapid-fire as their ship neared the continental bridge, its shadow slicing the river into light and dark. The demarcation line passed directly before them, sunlight glinting off the water beyond like scattered coins.
"But if powerful nobles like you and James openly clash in the capital—especially with assassinations—it would set a disastrous precedent. The king would never tolerate such instability. Any bloodshed involving high-level combatants would force the Dawn Knight Brigade to intervene."
Allen glanced down at Isolte's hand resting on his chest, then met her obsidian eyes. No romantic tension existed between them—only concealed urgency. Yet their proximity mimicked the couple now stumbling toward them, locked in a performative embrace.
"You shouldn't—" Isolte started, but Allen cut her off as the bridge's shadow swallowed them whole.
"—waste time."
In that instant of darkness, as the "couple" lurched into them, Allen moved.
His hand slid up Isolte's neck, fingers tracing her pulse before sweeping down her spine. A twist of his wrist, and he spun her clear—her skirt flaring with a sharp crack as they danced past the assassins' thrusting needles. One fluid step brought them back into sunlight.
"Too slow," Allen finished, grinning at Isolte's wide-eyed blush. He patted her back and steered her toward the still-bickering trio.
As they walked, he flicked his wrist. Sunlight caught on two palm-length black needles before he slammed them into the mast—vanishing without a trace in the weathered wood.
"Assassins?" Allen shrugged. "Come one, kill one. Come two, kill two. Keep coming, and I'll keep killing." He flashed teeth. "Simple. Efficient. In Roa, I don't need to wait months for some knightly tribunal to say 'the contractor's identity is unknown.'"
Isolte touched her throat, staring at the mast. Then nodded.
"Let's disembark."
"...Right."
Allen's smile vanished as he approached the chaos. Eris had her sword half-drawn, Sylphy's face burned scarlet, and Rudeus was mid-rant when Allen grabbed him by the collar.
"Enough," Allen growled.
Rudeus beamed. "Allen! Tell them you've been waiting all month for—mmph!"
Allen clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shut up."
Behind them, Isolte glanced back at the ship. The "lovers" now slumped against the railing, their necks bent at impossible angles. She recalled the moment—how Allen had disarmed and killed them mid-dance with less effort than a waltz.
He wields a blade... yet remains gentle.
The realization settled over her as she watched Allen herd his chaotic family ashore.
Would we ever dance a full song together?
Meanwhile – Bridge Tower
"Checkmate."
A white rook slid beside the black king. The nobleman opposite—a brown-haired man whose furrowed brow betrayed constant tension—leaned back. His opponent, a bearded dwarven man, chuckled.
"Another loss. Lord James plays as cautiously in strategy as in politics. Unlike my reckless gambits." He reset the pieces. "Still, Allen came exactly as you predicted. I'd wagered fifty percent odds he'd bypass Roa entirely after decapitating Veyn."
James's lips twitched. "A father knows his 'son.' That boy's sword has made him arrogant. He'd never avoid a fight."
"And your welcome gift?" The dwarf—Vey-Ta of the North Kings—laid five pawns in a row. "Youth is his weakness. Impetuousness. Overconfidence. Veyn tried to crush him in one strike and died for it."
His stubby fingers replaced the fifth pawn with a queen.
"We'll feed his arrogance. Let him think himself invincible. Then—" The queen toppled the king.
Outside, shouts erupted. Two bodies had been found on the docked ship.
James observed Allen's group through the window—laughing by market stalls, utterly unconcerned. His frown deepened.
"Proceed, Vey-Ta."
Dockside
The crowd swarmed the ship where two "lovers" had tragically died—perhaps from leaning too far over the rails?
Allen's group pretended not to notice.
What kind of monster lingers at his own crime scene? Sylphy and Rudeus seemed to vibrate with nervous exhilaration, while Eris remained blissfully unaware.
Allen sighed. If only they'd left faster—he'd had to explain the assassination attempt mid-escape.
Not that it mattered.
Those two had clearly choked on their own passion.
And Allen?
He was definitely not the type to murder people for public displays of affection.
...
Probably.
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