#wow I'm on an Estmund kick

[myselfinserts]

‘ we temper our justice with mercy here. ’

Clangs of swords echoed through the halls. The staff screamed in horror as they ran into nearby rooms to avoid the danger. The shadows were seeping deep into the walls. 

“Had enough, your Highness?!”

Davis hurried down the corridor, trying to make his way to the main entry. He needed the space to fight. That was one of his many faults. He couldn’t fight well in close combat. Perhaps he should have taken his training as he grew up more seriously. If he had, maybe this assassin wouldn’t have caught him off guard.

Though no one could blame him. She looked a lot like his wife.

“What’s the matter?” the woman asked. “You look like you’ve seen the reaper!”

Davis turned a corner, making sure to glance at the door to the cat room as he ran. Didn’t want his little friends to be hurt.

Think Davis. Think. What do you want to do to live? Use your quirk? Not here. Not this floor. You gotta-

“Watch your back!”

Davis turned and blocked, glaring at the woman sneering at him. He could just make out the points of her pinned back ears. No doubt a killer from their sister island. Why was she here?

He didn’t need to hazard a guess. 

“I hate to fight a lady,” he said. “But you proved you’re more than willing to harm innocents when you broke into this sanctuary. So I suppose I have no choice but to handle you with the utmost courtesy.”

She laughed. “About time. I was wondering if I was going to end up killing another coward. Instead, I get a gentleman.”

Davis kicked her back and hard into the wall, sprinting down the hall and hurried down toward the open foyer downstairs. At the stairs, he jumped and slid down the railing, tossing his hair ribbon aside. He wouldn’t need it for this. And he felt more himself with his hair down. More confident. More bold.

More like a King.

The last of the staff vanished just as he began to absorb the darkness within the castle. The shadows began to scream at him, like they’d done before. Every horrible, lonely, scared, despairing thought that had covered these halls for the last century. His mother’s sorrow of his parting. His father’s anger at his immaturity. Kings and Queens and Rulers whose powers ate away at them. 

He took it all. 

“There you are!”

Davis looked up, eyes glowing blindingly as the shadows changed with him. He focused, sending the light he was summoning into his blade. Into his very aura. The assassin leaped from the top and came at him with a spin, attempting to cut him right down the middle. 

The light in his blade began to grow, and he found himself moving on instinct. He raised his sword and blocked her attack, letting the pure white light cover him from head to toe.

The assassin screamed, jumping back and covering her eyes with a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. Davis rushed forward, slicing upward and cutting the glasses in half before spinning on his heel and kicking her in the jaw, sending her flying to the other side of the foyer. She stood again, squinting to try and see him. 

Parry, thrust, dodge. Slash, miss, spin. This deadly fight slowed to a waltz. Two soul clashing together. And Davis never felt more alive.

But now was not the time to bask in the glory of battle. With one last swing he knocked the weapon from his opponent, leaving a decent gash in the woman’s arm. Another kick and she was on her knees. He held the tip of his sword to her chin, eyes narrowed fiercely.

“I take it your people sent you to kill me,” he said. “Seeing as it is self defense and protecting my country, I could just end you here.”

The assassin panted, trying to keep her smile through the bruising on her face. “Then why don’t you? Huh? Get it over with. You said it yourself. You have every right to. Kill me then go declare war on Elspie. After that, you can totally do that.”

“And you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Davis removed his sword, kicking hers into his hand and stepping back. “Those where the ways of my father King Søren. And his father Aloys before him, and King Galeran before him. But that is not my way. The way of the kings have evolved with me. We temper our justice with mercy here. Though I don’t expect an Elspie assassin to understand that.”

“Mercy? Pfft. Don’t make me laugh. Cursed demons like you know not of mercy.”

“You think you’re all high and mighty just because you’re letting me live? We’ll just send more of us after you, you know. If not me, then the next strongest. Eventually, should you truly prove tiresome, we’ll send the true Grim Reaper after you, your majesty. And when that day comes, you and your kind will be over, Cursed King.”

“You depraved souls and your quirk biases. I am offering you one chance. Either leave now peacefully, or face trial for attempted murder of the crown, endangerment to civilians, unauthorized weapon possession, and illegal trespassing.”

The assassin stared at him an uncomfortably long time. It hurt watching her bleed out there. She looked so much like Isleen. He threw the swords aside and tore off his scarf, tying it around her wound. 

Her snide look softened to confusion. “What the hell-?”

“I cannot bare the sight of you injured by my hand,” he said. “I will gladly pay for your medical bills. A lovely lady like you shouldn’t be in this line of work. You should be free to do whatever it is that truly makes you happy.” He looked into her eyes, trying to mask the hurt buried there. “Does killing someone who has not slighted you truly bring you happiness?”

She stared at him a little longer before standing up, turning toward the door blocked by the guards. They all had their spears aimed at her. Davis waved for them to stand down. He stood, holding out a hand to her. 

“If Elspie’s not making you happy,”  he said. “Then I’d gladly wish to welcome you as a member of the guard. We could use a talented combatant like you to help train. Or if that’s not what you seek-”

“I just want to go home to my husband...”

Davis smiled at the assassin, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold coin. He held it out, brushing his hair back. “Take this. And if you ever decide you wish to find happiness in my kingdom, I’ll personally welcome you.”

The assassin stared at the coin before hesitantly taking it, nodding silently before leaving. 

“And what happened after that?”

“I sent her on her way. I don’t think that she’ll be a bother to me again.”

Inkwell shook his head. “My oh my, little king. You really are too soft.”

Davis chuckled. “Is that such a bad thing, old friend?”

“No, it’s a decent enough trait for one to have.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to balance the white king piece on his nose. “Though you really need to catch up with the times a bit more. You only just got yourself a computer system last week? And the first video chat you decide to do is me. You really are a strange boy.”

“I’m a king, Mr. Alberi. You’d do well to remember-”

“Do you still have that Miles Edgeworth cosplay in your closet? I don’t think it suits you anymore.” Davis rolled his eyes. Inkwell could tell. He always knew. “Seriously though, what’s got you calling me, anyway?”

Davis’s pleasant smiled faded to a serious gaze. “Information on your country hasn’t been getting through very well to Estmund, so I need a couple of tidbits of intel. I figured someone as magnificent as you could help a poor little wannabe like me.”

“Flattery will get you only so far, my king,” Inkwell snickered. “What is it you want to know?”

“The hero on the news the other day. The one that had the redebut that’s been all over the net.”

Inkwell paused, raising an eyebrow. “The Technonaut Hero; Renegade? 

“What can you tell me about him?”

“Elspie’s Number One. Worked hard for that title, he did. Strong lad. Little brother to Mither and older brother to an up and coming heroine named Tarren. Trained under Mr. Derezzed in Elspie’s Apprenticeship Program. Renegade is also one of the biggest names in support design at the moment thanks to his quirk. He’s second only to Mr. Allard of good old Atelier Allard in Paris.”

“Anything else?” 

“Current partner is the Peaceful Shepherd; Amaryllis, though I’ve never actually talked to that hero properly outside of work. Always covered head to toe in a formal hero suit when we came face to face. Or, face to mask, I should say. I’m more familiar with some of Renegade’s outside colleagues, such as Mr. Allard, Lady Lazarus, and the owner of the Secret Felines pub and hotel, Mr. Aylward.” He smiled, holding up the king piece to the light. “I do remember Renegade calling them ‘Luci’ oh so fondly. And Luci always responding with ‘Regibyte’.”

Davis seemed to relax, a forlorn, nostalgic glint in his eye flickering slightly. “They must care very much for each other.”

“They own a cat named Meatloaf. Those two are gonna be married by the end of next year, I promise you.”

“Meatloaf?! Oh my goodness-”

“Cat King, silence your oo-woos.”

“But that’s such a cute name-!”

“Do you want this information? Because I will hang up.”

Davis shut right up.

“Thank you.” Inkwell sat up and set the chess piece down. “Why do you want information on Renegade?”

“I want to commission some new clothes from his designer.”

He blinked, bursting into laughter. “Honestly, why didn’t you start with that?! I could get you a meeting with his greatness right away! How soon are you wanting to hear back?”

“Within two months, if that’s alright.”

“Worry not your pretty blue head about it. I’ll pass along your interest to him.” He narrowed his eyes, smirking slightly. ��I hope you know he might decline your offer, my good king.”

Davis nodded, pulling his hair back into a ponytail .”I’m well aware of that. But I wish to, at the very least, speak with him one on one. All expenses will be paid, and I can assure you that he will be treated with the utmost respect befitting his talents. And of course, he’s allowed two guests.”

“How generous.”

“I try to be. The people seem rather keen on keeping me healthy and happy. I give back to all when I can.”

“Given that you very well might be the last king of Estmund, I’m not surprised. What’s the crime rate again?”

“0.0005239%”

“And that last not even half a percent is petty littering right?” Inkwell sighed. “Email me the details of what you need done and I will forward them to Mr. Allard. I’m certain you can research him more on your own.”

Davis smiled, holding back a laugh as an ink-black cat jumped onto his lap. “I appreciate it Mr. Alberi.”

“Please, call me Uncle Inkwell. Everyone does these days.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later then. Uncle Inkwell.”

They finished their call and Inkwell immediately called Paris, forwarding the details from Davis to the address he’d been provided. He smiled with the no nonsense professional voice of the assistant answered. 

“Thank you for calling Atelier Allard-”

“Chris my child! How wonderful to hear from you-”

“Monsieur Allard does not have time to deal with your antics today, Inkwell.”

“Oh, this won’t take long. I emailed him a request on behalf of a very important client and friend of mine. He wishes to commission Dear E’s talents. Won’t need to hear back for two months at most. He’s free to decline, but I do say he’d like to at least look this over first.” He smirked. “I can hear your eyeroll, Chris.”

There was a long pause. Inkwell could just make out the sound of clicking at a keyboard come to a hault, and a soft gasp. 

Bingo.

“I’ll forward your message to Monsieur Allard. No gurentees.”

“Of course,” Inkwell said. “Thank you for your time, my friend. Passe une excellente soirée.“

“Merci.”