Andrellia

3. Felicia

The sound of approaching horses cut through the tense silence. Aetheel , ever alert, perked up. "Looks like we have company..." she muttered, her eyes darting towards the street.

Felicia's heart skipped a beat. The warrior, sensing her unease, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. In a flash of blue light, he dematerialized, transforming back into the unassuming sword in her hand. She quickly slipped it beneath her cloak, the weight of the unknown and the recent events settling heavily on her.

The shop door creaked open, and a man with thin glasses and slicked-back black hair strode in. He was clean-shaven and had an air of quiet authority. "This looks pretty nasty," he remarked, taking in the shop's disarray with a practiced eye.

"Indeed," Aetheel sighed, dusting a shard of pottery off her apron. "A band of ruffians decided to pay a visit."

The man introduced himself as Carl Phillip von Clausewitz, an intelligence officer with the crown guard. He explained he'd been following reports of suspicious activity in the area and had come to take statements.

Aetheel, ever the shrewd businesswoman, launched into a detailed account of the robbery, embellishing details here and there, perhaps to inflate the value of her "magical doohickeys" that had been broken. Felicia, still shaken but trying to appear composed, provided a similar, albeit less dramatic, account, omitting any mention of the mysterious warrior.

Clausewitz listened patiently, taking notes in a leather-bound journal. His gaze lingered on Felicia for a moment, a hint of suspicion flickering in his eyes. Perhaps it was the way she held herself, a newfound spark of resolve in her posture, or maybe it was the faint blue glow emanating from beneath her cloak, a glow only visible to those with a keen eye for the extraordinary.
Clausewitz snapped his notebook shut with a decisive click. "Thank you both for your time," he said, his voice betraying a hint of lingering curiosity. "This will be a great help in our investigation."

As Clausewitz turned to leave, Aetheel , ever the opportunist, chimed in, "Perhaps, officer, you might be interested in some... protective charms? To ward off any future... unpleasantness?" she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, gesturing towards a shelf overflowing with trinkets and talismans.

Clausewitz gave a curt laugh. "While I appreciate the offer, ma'am, I rely on good steel and keen observation to keep me safe." He tipped his hat and stepped back out into the afternoon sun.

The shop door chimed shut, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Aetheel , with a sigh, began the tedious task of cleaning up the shop's wreckage. Felicia, however, remained frozen in place, the weight of the hidden sword a constant reminder of the extraordinary events that had just unfolded.

"Who was he?" she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

Aetheel glanced at her, a knowing glint in her eye. "More than he seems, child," she said mysteriously. "But some secrets are best left buried."

Felicia wasn't entirely convinced. The warrior's sudden arrival, his otherworldly power, and his cryptic disappearance all fueled a burning curiosity within her. Glancing down at the hilt of the sword beneath her cloak, she felt a strange connection to him, a sense that their paths were destined to cross again.

Suddenly, a soft blue light pulsed from the hidden sword. Felicia gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. Had the warrior heard Aetheel ? Was he trying to communicate?

The moral dilemma gnawed at Felicia. Stealing the sword felt wrong, yet leaving it behind meant surrendering a piece of this incredible mystery. But what if the warrior needed it? What if it was more than just a weapon, but a source of his power? Taking it felt reckless, but leaving it felt irresponsible.

Suddenly, a wave of determination washed over her. This wasn't stealing; it was borrowing, with a promise to return. After all, Aetheel had a penchant for overcharging tourists for chipped teacups and dusty trinkets. Today, Felicia figured, the universe was evening the scales.

She scanned the cluttered counter, her gaze landing on Aetheel 's cash register. With deft movements honed from years of sneaking into dusty attics, Felicia slipped a hefty sum of money from her purse onto the counter. It was more than enough to cover the broken vase and any inconvenience caused by the brawl. Leaving a small note tucked under the money - "Thank you for everything. Borrowing something precious. Will return soon. F." - Felicia slipped out of the shop, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the cobbled street.

Reaching her tiny apartment, Felicia bolted the door and sank onto her threadbare sofa. With trembling hands, she pulled the sword from beneath her cloak.

In a flash of blue light, the sword vanished. Where it once stood, materialized the warrior, his armor shimmering faintly in the dim light of her apartment. It was as if his essence was intrinsically bound to the weapon. His eyes, the color of a summer sky, met Felicia's, his expression a curious blend of surprise and concern. Gone was the urgency that had marked his voice earlier, replaced by a gentle calmness.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant, echoing softly within the confines of the small space. The question, laced with genuine care, caught Felicia off guard. No one, not even her closest friends, had ever looked at her with such concern in their eyes. Here she was, a history buff with a penchant for dusty attics, suddenly face-to-face with a warrior from another time, and he was worried about her well-being.

Felicia opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. The day's events had been a whirlwind - the robbery, the warrior's arrival, the hidden power, the escape. Now, with the warrior standing before her, a thousand questions swirled in her mind. Who was he? Where did he come from? What was his connection to the sword? But the most pressing question, the one that bubbled to the surface first, was, "Who are you?"

The warrior chuckled softly, a warm sound that filled the small apartment. "Apologies," he said, his voice still holding the echoes of battles fought long ago. "My name is Arthur, though some may call me by other titles depending on the legend they hold dear." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling back on Felicia. "You, however, seem more interested in facts than fables."

Felicia, emboldened by his gentle demeanor, nodded. "Yes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "This... everything... it's incredible. But also confusing. Who are you, really? And what is that sword?"

Arthur's gaze flickered to the empty space where the sword had been. "That, my dear," he said, his voice turning serious, "is Excalibur."

Felicia's eyes widened. Excalibur, the legendary sword of King Arthur, here in her tiny apartment? It seemed impossible, yet here stood the warrior himself, confirming her wildest suspicions. "But... but how?" she stammered.

Arthur sighed, a weary weight settling on his shoulders. "It's a long story," he began, his voice laced with the echoes of centuries. "A story of betrayal, magic, and a kingdom on the brink of collapse. But for now, it's enough to know that Excalibur is more than just a weapon. It is a symbol of hope, and a key to restoring balance to a world teetering on the edge of chaos."

Felicia listened intently, her mind racing. This wasn't just about a stolen sword or a brawl in a curiosity shop. This was about something much bigger, something with the potential to rewrite history itself.

"And what role do I play in all this?" she asked, her voice small but determined.

Arthur smiled, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Interesting question, Felicia. You see, Excalibur is not simply wielded by anyone. It chooses its bearer, someone with a pure heart and unwavering courage. Someone who, like you, defies the temptation of personal gain in the face of the greater good."

He gestured the note on Aetheel 's counter. "How many people, do you think, if they were in your situation, would have actually paid?"

Felicia's cheeks flushed a warm red. Arthur's observation hit a chord within her. "Not many," she admitted sheepishly.

Arthur's smile widened. "Indeed. That, my dear Felicia, is why you are here. You possess the qualities of a true hero, someone who is destined to play a part in this grand adventure."