Assassin|| C!TNTDUO

+∘□メCourtyardメ□∘+

Quackity POV:

The blade sang as it spun through the air, maneuvering around ramshackle sacks-on-sticks as enemies.

The problem with such a foe was that they couldn't exactly fight back.

But the prince had never minded practicing alone. He could get all of his energy out when fighting, and it never hurt to get better.

Well, sometimes it did, but that sort of came with waving a sword around.

Really his favoured weapon was an axe, but it wasn't very princely, and he was supposed to carry around a sword a lot of the time anyway.

His favourite small axe with a brilliantly carved handle was hanging above his bed currently, watching anyone who entered menacingly.

He breathed heavily as he swung again and again.

He was sick of having responsibility thrust upon him but simultaneously being treated like a child.

He wasn't going to be a puppet, and if the court thought they could use him as one, he would have to show them he couldn't be controlled.

He gritted his teeth and swung with force.

The dummy's head rolled at his feet.

"Did he really deserve that?" Came a voice from behind him, making him jump.

He spun around and nearly struck again on his decapitation endeavour.

"Woah there!" Said Wilbur, Quackity's sword tip at his neck.

Quackity sighed and dropped his sword. "What do you want."

Wilbur cocked his head. "Pardon the interruption, your highness." He began, Quackity not missing the amused tilt to his voice, "I thought you might fancy a training partner. Your other ones seem a bit..." He glanced behind Quackity at the head on the ground, "well they've lost their minds, haven't they?"

Quackity rolled his eyes.

Wilbur POV:

"Fine. Can you even fight?" the prince asked sceptically

Something dark flashed through Wilburs' mind as Quackity said this. Something furious and violent. Merciless. If only this young prince knew of the danger he was in.

Wilbur could kill him where he stood, right now, without breaking a sweat.

In fact, six scenarios were simultaneously playing out in his head. All of them where the prince ended up dead.

Wilbur shook his head slightly. He needed to get a grip.

He smiled at Quackity sheepishly. "I mean I haven't had much practise, but I'm sure I can hold my own."

Quackity shrugged. "If you're sure. But I won't go easy on you. Try to keep up. " He said, tossing Wilbur a spare blade.

Wilburs' eyes narrowed and he caught it. "I will."

He felt it in his hand. It wasn't correctly weighted for him, and the grip was lumpy, but he could make do.

They took their stances, waiting until finally, Quackity struck.

Wilbur deflected it, and they were off.

The sound of metal against metal filled the courtyard as they stepped forwards and back, locked in a dangerous dance.

Wilbur held back of course, but he couldn't help keeping the prince on his toes a bit.

Quackity was better than he expected, although not near a match for him when he was trying.

In response to Wilbur's smooth and long strikes, he was fast and aggressive, getting in close and jabbing quickly.

Wilbur could tell he was used to a smaller weapon, and wondered about combat when the prince was armed in his favour.

Quackity hit his sword with a particularly hard blow and Wilbur took an on-purpose stumble back, both of them panting a bit from the effort.

Quackity smirked smugly and Wilbur internally rolled his eyes.

He went back in with a new force, -still mostly stifled - and took glee in the look of surprise on the prince's face, his smug look now one of concentration.

He couldn't help grinning at Quackity's furrowed brows as they got in close again.

The prince must have noticed this because he glared and pushed back harshly with his weapon.

Wilbur drew back again, feinting to his left.

But the prince easily recognised this and struck out again, this time sending Wilbur's sword clattering out of his hand.

The only thing was, Wilbur hadn't faked this.

He stared at the sword on the ground and whistled. "You must be pretty formidable on the battlefield." He said with forced civility.

Quackity's mood darkened from that of his victory. "Hah, you'd think." He said bitterly. "I haven't been."

"Aren't you at w-" Wilbur began questioningly.

"Yes." The prince snapped. Then he sighed and sat down on a courtyard bench.

"I heard your troubles with the court." Wilbur ventured.

Quackity looked up at him with a raised eyebrow but didn't mention his eavesdropping. "Yeah. They're impossible to reason with. Y'know I'm sure I could have ended this war, or at least prevented it without violence. But my uncle was in charge. And then he went and died and left me with his mess."

Wilbur sensed that this was a good moment to get closer to the prince- which could help him later- and sat down next to him.

"What was your uncle like?" He asked casually.

"An asshole," Quackity said simply. Then he laughed, but it was without humour.
"I don't know how someone like him was even related to my mother. But he was obsessed with money. He loved doing stupid deals with other countries that ended up corrupt and detrimental to everyone involved except his personal funds. He drank. A lot. And he was always very secretive about his business too... especially from me." Quackity reminisced. He kicked one of the dummy heads and it rolled away pathetically, it's drawn on face tumbling over the cobblestone.

"He and Creedin would scurry away to their little rooms and talk in hushed voices. But I always knew what was going on anyway. He was a massive brag." He continued.

Wilbur wondered for the umpteenth time what Schlatt was thinking. Maybe he'd been planning this longer than anyone realised.

He nodded though, and the prince seemed to notice how much he was sharing. "I mean he was a king. As much a king as any other." He ended simply.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at Quackity. "Not so keen on royalty as you made me think, huh?"

Quackity huffed. "Must you insist on saying treasonous things?"

Wilbur laughed. "I must."

The prince almost smiled and Wilbur saw a new opportunity unfolding.

He would get closer to Quackity, giving him ample opportunity to kill him and slip away into the night.

This wouldn't take much longer.