Clang. Ting.

Harut held his blade high as he stepped away from the latest clash with Garrick. The Hell Knight held his own blade low, leaning forward and ready to go back in. Around them, a circle of black armored knights awaited the outcome. By honor, the fight would determine the knight's loyalties.

Some practices, some beliefs went beyond memories. Ideals had been forged into the Hell Knights by Harut and long traditions. He counted on that to overcome their tainted memories.

Tradition had a power all its own.

"You won't win, sir." Garett's breath came in quick gasps. "You don't have your armor."

"That armor is heavy." Harut narrowed his eyes, keeping his blade aloft in both hands. "You rely on it too much."

The rules of a duel meant Garrick had deactivated the armor's power. No flame would flow from his blade. The fight was a test of skill, not power. Though the armor offered protection, Garrick was far too used to the easy it offered when turned on.

"You've neglected your training. I am disappointed."

"Shut up, sir!"

Clang. Rattle. Thud.

Garrick charged, aligning his blade and thrusting it at Harut's chest. Harut brought down his own sword. He caught Garrick's blade and forced it away from his heart in a parry. The blade shook in his hands, but he held strong. He released his pommel, clenching his gloved hand into a fist and slamming it into Garrick's chest. Garrick stumbled back from the sudden blow. However, his sword remained firmly gripped in his gauntlets.

"You've forgotten your fundamentals." Harut shook his head, raising his blade above his head again. "But the young always do. They get a taste of power and forget technique. Remember this: strength alone is never enough."

"Rah!"

Clatter.

Garrick came up again, and Harut knocked his blade away. It was a pity. The boy had such promise with a blade before he obtained his armor. Now, he was flopping about like a fish out of water.

"What happened to you, Garrick?" Harut asked, shifting his grip to one hand. "Your mind is not so weak, is it? You know that something is wrong here. You know you are being manipulated."

"Hah, hah." Garrick heaved in short gasps, his arms lowering along with his blade, until the tip of the sword touched the ground. "Something has been wrong for a long time, Harut, but not with me. There's a disease in Grim Aegis that has taken us all. We just accept it. We don't question it. Everything that should have been mine was taken from me, all because of the king's weakness. He resigned himself to tolerance of the problems. He let that woman take control."

Garrick stopped, gazing into the distance at Halogi. The Ikon stood towering over the far shore of the lake, though they couldn't see everything over the walls. It was obvious, though. Halogi, King Lopold, was fighting his own people beyond the barrier.

"I know the woman twisted my mind. I saw her put her tangled web across the entire court. But it was because of the king's weakness that she could. If he had taken a firmer hand, made Arturia be the princess she was, our country would still be whole."

The problems of their family, of their line, went deeper than that. Harut knew that well enough. However, there was truth, and then there was family. He would not let a knight besmirch his family.

"You do not get to call the king weak," Harut said, clenching his fist tight and raising his blade. "Not after losing Ida. Not after we had to do everything to keep Artur from following her into the abyss."

"Arturia." Garrick growled. "She was going to be mine! We were destined for each other since we were babes!"

Harut bit his tongue on his first thought, remembering the many days Artur would be caught with servants in his teens. He had a completely different side of his nephew that Garrick would have never seen, stuck in the training halls as a squire. However, he could not let the boy just speak the words.

Slap.

Harut lunged forward and with a backhand his glove struck across Garrick's helmet. Pain flashed across the back of his hand, but that didn't matter. What was important was the symbol. It was a reprimand from a noble, though disgraced, to a knight.

"Know your place." Harut spat. "You do not own someone because they stir your loins. Even if nothing else had changed, you know that Artur would have been promised off to another island's nobility. There can be no mingling between commoners and the nobility."

"You would know." Garrick reached up, unfastening his helmet to reveal his long, messy black hair and dark eyes. "Wouldn't you?"

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Ba-bump.

Fire burned across his chest as Harut raised his blade again. He brought it down in a single slash, catching Garrick across the face and sending him stumbling to the ground. Garrick's sword clattered to the stone as he fell onto his back, arms splayed wide. Harut stood over him, his sword shaking in his hand, the victor. Though it hadn't been the grand fight of a tale, but the petty bickering of brothers in arms. He glared down at Garrick, anger flowing through his arms.

He could end it right there. He could stab Garrick through his head and end it. Then he could take command of the knights, levying tradition to keep them in line. However, if he did that, he knew Artur would not be happy. While Artur never felt the same way about Garrick, Garrick was still Artur's friend.

"Despite it all." Garrick turned away to the knights. "Will you all follow tradition? Do I have your swords?"

Words did not answer him, but each of the knights raised their swords in salute. While they may not have had their memories, ideals remained. Harut nodded..

"Let's call off the rest of you from killing Sayed." Harut started looking over the area. "Then we'll see about freeing you all."

Miss Malone stepped away from the vision cascading across the mirror and shook her head. Nothing was going to plan. Only Mister Tyson still stood against the intruders, and she did not think he would last much longer. She could enter the battle, but it would be risky. If she lost, the operation would collapse.

Not even death would save her from Lord Baccia if that happened.

"Spread the web far and wide," she whispered. "Don't mourn it when it breaks."

"For nothing have you fought." The prince sneered from the wall behind her. "All your work is for naught."

Crack.

Miss Malone turned on him, her fingers splaying wide as the joints cracked. If he wasn't the key, if she had any other, she would have slit the prince's throat long ago. But she needed the prince, especially now.

"Laugh all you want." Miss Malone stalked toward him, raising her hand high.

Her fingers stretched long, all four sharpening to fine points. Her black gloves stretched with them, and she curled them into long hooks. Yet, she did not strike.

"You're a fortunate son," Miss Malone whispered. "Or maybe a daughter. Either way, it is time to take our leave."

Shink.

She slashed his chains with a single swipe of her claws, sending the prince tumbling to the ground before doing the same to the chains around his legs. He fell on his side, gasping for air. The prince was too weak to stand, too weak to do much of anything besides go where he was carried. That was how Miss Malone kept him, on the edge of starvation. A tool only needed to be as sharp as the job it performed.

"We're going through the gate," she said, her finger stretching down to grasp around him before pulling him into one palm.

The weight was nothing to her. She was much stronger than she seemed when her gate was open. The prince hung limply at her side as she stalked through the door, leaving the mirror behind. She had a lot of ground to cover, if she wanted to beat the outlaws to the gate.

At the same time, the barrier outside would start its collapse. She couldn't see it, not as she started down the spiral stairs, but she knew it was happening all the same. It would be a little added chaos to everything else. Halogi might even prove a bigger distraction for the outlaws. With the barrier down, the king would no longer only have his people to go after. He could turn on the keep.

"Wait." The prince struggled against her grip as the blue light of the runes behind her faded. "Abate."

Miss Malone paused, turning her head lightly to observe the room. Just through the open door, the mirror glowed, showing Halogi towering over the shore, and an aerial view of the keep. She didn't pause for the prince's benefit. That would be far too kind.

"You want to see it all fall, little prince?" Miss Malone asked, a smirk cracking her face. "You want to see the final moments of your people before it all goes wrong? You said that I failed, but your friends have done nothing to save you. We're going through the gate together and leaving this all behind."

She pulled her fingers a little tighter around the prince for emphasis. He would not escape, and the outlaws weren't close to the actual keep yet. Even if they rushed, she could make it through the gate in time. While she was in retreat, that didn't mean she had lost.

"Watch it," she whispered, raising up the prince and starting backward down the stairs. "The last thing you will see is the madness consuming the king."

The prince shook against her, but could say nothing. He could do nothing. He was her trapped prey, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Exhilaration flooded through her body, and she savoured it. A bubbling laugh escaped her lips as she took another step down the stairs.

It was torturous, but considering her day, she needed the thrill.

"What do you think, prince?" She took another step down the stairs, pulling him with her. "Where are your quick words now? Is your mind dulled?"

The prince grunted and pushed against her fingers, but she held him tight. She took another step down the stairs, holding the prince so that the glimmers of fading blue light were still visible. The light had dimmed significantly already. The barrier wouldn't last much longer.

"I—I will not yield," the prince whispered, and blue light sparked across his fingers between Miss Malone's tight grip. "Cutting shield!"

Bzzt.

Light slammed out of his hands in a long line, cutting up and into Miss Malone's fingers. For a moment, pain raced across her hand, then numbness. Her extended fingers fell away from her hand, cut through as surely as if a sword had cut them. She gasped and dropped the prince without thinking. Her foot caught, and she slammed into the wall as she raced her hand to her chest.

"I already told you the truth." The prince stumbled, catching himself on his feet and turning to Miss Malone. "You will not wind this day, forsooth!"

He stood, a blade made of light held in his hand. Miss Malone growled, her fingers lengthening again. Her gate blazed bright as she held up her palm and focused on her curse. She didn't have the time or patience to fight, and the prince couldn't maintain his stance for long.

"Tangled Web."

Psst.

It shot out of her hand, a sticky web that expanded rapidly as it crashed into the prince. The prince tried to cut it, but more web exploded out from her hand. She kept it going for several seconds, ensuring that the prince was fully encased. She wouldn't risk his getting free again.

Once he was on the ground, fully encased, she picked him up again and started down the stairs. The time for fun was over. Now she needed to get to the gate.

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