Drakken Nightfall

Greeting

Darkness was gathering over the forest as Drakken left the camp, eager to get away from the saccharine flattery of his advisors and their insistent overtures. The night was cool, but the fire of the Dragon Seal beneath his skin warmed him from the inside. His armor clanked softly with each step, perfectly tailored and magically reinforced, able to withstand the impact of any spell. He felt someone else's presence almost immediately. An invisible touch of a glance, a light rustle that might go unnoticed by someone less attentive. The stranger moved cautiously, but confidently. Not like a mercenary thirsting for the crown prince's head, nor like a hunter out for a walk in her own forest. More like someone who was too smart to attack without reason, but bold enough to approach him like this - face to face. Drakken stopped and spoke without turning around: - If you want to attack, do it now. If you prefer to talk, then at least show the courage to show your face. The footsteps faded. A girl stepped out of the shadows, tall, with long black hair that glistened in the moonlight. Her grey eyes looked straight at him, without a trace of fear or submission. Even in her calm there was a hidden threat, but it was a graceful, subtle threat, like the tip of a sword disguised as a smile. Drakken studied her silently, noting her chiseled features, the flexibility of her movements, and the hand that rested almost imperceptibly on the hilt of her sword. There was none of the panicked determination he often saw in the eyes of assassins. Only composure and confidence. "You approach me as if we were old acquaintances," he said at last, his voice calm and firm. "But I thought I remembered everyone who dared to challenge the Crown Prince. So who are you, stranger?"

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