The Hawk King's Weakness

~Chapter 1~

*[Christina depicted above]

The hushed atmosphere of the front entrance was soon interrupted as footsteps furiously flew past, the breeze from the hurrying figure's cloak causing a candle's light to flicker slightly.

"B-blast..!"

The man paused, dashing back over to see if he had indeed caused the flame to die out, which would thus put some of the master's money to waste.

Seeing the flame flicker a few more times then turn back into a legitimate source of light, he clutched the scrolled parchment tighter in his dirtied hand then continued through the seemingly-abadondoned manor.

After he darted around yet another corner, the hall had come to an end, two large oaken doors on the left being the only place left to proceed.

The two doors opened to a shocking descent of spiraled stairs, as if only more darkness was to be found at the end.

Slowly, the cloaked man took a few steps into the darkness, hands feeling onto the moist stone wall as there wasn't even a railing to grab or even candles lighting the way down.

Inside, he felt relived to see the last of the stairs having a sun burnt glow to them, light being near.

The air became colder and sharper during the descent, him wondering why a being even desired a library so far into the earth.

The stairwell had then led into a massively opened room, him having felt that'd it instead lead him to an oozy and disgusting cellar.

The floors were beautifully tiled, and upon them sat countless bookshelves; to the right was a towering wall of them and a ladder perched to the massive case, and to the left a maze of other shelves.

Most of the inventory was more than likely spellbooks, and the entire library a mage's dream.

Not knowing where to begin to look for the master's niece, the man walked each aisle of the bookcases, remembering a servant telling him that she was to be found here.

His muddied boots from the rain outside made an awful "splatter" sound, making it hard to hear the earnest writing of a quill not too far away.

Stopping, having picked up the slight sound in a room of ominous silence, a girl's voice asking, "Who's there?" nearly made him jump.

After walking the last aisle, he had finally found her, the master's niece, sitting quietly at a round table with many stacks of books and documents.

"Lady Christina? It is I." The man spoke up, throwing his hood off which revealed his scraggly and sandy colored hair.

"Sir Thomas!"

Recognizing the voice, the girl turned around, pulling some of the silky dark hair from her face.

Even in the dim lighting she could see that his cloak was horribly dirtied; his hands and cheeks smuged with dirt as the rain water dripping from his hair caused brown droplets to run down his slim features.

"A-are you alright?"

Christina stood from her seat at the table, and hurried over to him, gently wiping a hand across his face.

She was thin and had a nice height to her, having a rather shapely figure, not being too shy on the cleavage here and there.

Often, her uncle would scold her on the matter where she'd half-heartedly comply.

"May I get you a cloth?" She asked, emerald-hued eyes filling with conern.

Thomas gave her a stern look, carefully removing her hand from his face then looking her in the eyes.