Whumptember Day 5: Dagger
I changed how soon the heretic is caught because Drifter and Operator would figure it out so quick…and also I wanted to hurt Francel sooo
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Solana skidded the a stop in the snow, facing the false inquisitor. Her gaze found Francel—the young lord, lip split, one eyes swollen shut, nose broken, covered in an array of welts, bruises, cuts and bound with rope tightly behind his back—and she narrowed her eyes
"What is the meaning of this?" roared the fake
The house Durendaire, Fortemp and Haillenarte knights bore to her side as Drillemont faced the fake.
"By the name of House Durendaire, surrender yourself, heretic!"
The fake narrowed his eyes.
"The kid found the body of the true inquisitor, dead in the snow where you left him,"
The fake gritted his teeth and then, in a flash of movement, grabbed Francel and forced him to his feet—looping an arm through Francel's elbows—pulling him close and held a dagger to the younger man's throat. Francel went stiff in his grasp. His only good eye flicking between the knights of Durendaire, Fortemp and then to his house's knights.
"Stay still, Young Lord Francel," instructed Solana and Francel obeyed as best he could.
Now that he was standing, Solana could see that he was missing a boot, his bare foot resting on his other foot, desperate to keep it out of the cold snow.
The fake move back, forcing Francel to put weight on his right foot. Francel let out a strangled cry as bare skin came to contact with the sheer cold—though Solana believe there may be another reason for his pain—staggering slightly. The dagger dug slightly into his neck, drawing blood and Francel grimaced.
"Damn, this isn't working," muttered Solana, before reaching up to touch her ear, "Rosebud,"
There was silence for about three seconds before there was a thwhip as something passed through the fake's head. He tipped to the side, dead, letting Francel go as he fell. He hit the snow as blood seeped from the hole through his head.
Francel fell to his knees it the snow, his face laced with pain.
"Lord Francel!" cried the House Haillenarte knights, rushing to their lord's side.
One knight cut Francel free of his bonds while the other checked the man for any other wounds. Francel looked exhausted, the long "interrogation" draining him thoroughly. Unable to remain up, he tipped forward and into the arms of the knight in front of him.
"Getting back to Camp Dragonhead, quickly!" called Solana, "Selene go with them and make sure nothing attacks them,"
In a rush of void, Selene appeared—a sniper rifle slung across her back—and nodded, making her way to the knights and Francel.
The two knights draped Francel between them and lifted him up. As they made their way back to Camp Dragonhead, Selene walked just a pace behind them, her sniper rifle now slung across her front.
The two Fortemp knights followed, swords and shields sheathed.
"What do you want to do with the body?" asked Solana
"Push it into the ravine, heretics do not deserve courtesy," said Drillemont
Solana shrugged and kicked the body into the ravine; she and the kid had done worse.













