Between the Lines (The Black Knight)

[Declan Moss]

The Black Brotherhood's recruitment off ice hadn't changed in the few months since he'd seen it. It was still located in the worst part of town, it's wooden floors creaking under the weight of his trim frame as he crossed the threshold into the building. There were guards of course, but he walked with purpose, and while few people would recognize him, everyone in the Brotherhood would recognize his outfit. The dark cloak and hood was synonymous with Brotherhood members, and to be honest, these guards weren't the highest quality. Intimidating to be sure, but not attentive. They were here to remove people who were not accepted into the Brotherhood, not stop people form getting in. Which suited Declan's purpose magnificently. He had been with the Brotherhood for several months now, and despite showing consistent improvement throughout all aspects of his training, had not received even the slightest utterance of praise or approbation. What was worse, now other recruits were starting to get dragged into Declan and the Knights unofficial feud.

Just last night one of the newer recruits, an assassin by the name of Johnathan had been injured during a training session with Declan, and it was the Knights fault. Johnathan was enthusiastic, but he wasn't talented, not yet at any rate. Placing him against Declan did nothing but ensure the boy's failure, which was then used as an excuse for punishment. Punishment in the Brotherhood always contained a possibility of death or serious injury. After a week of exhausting exercises and being Declans moving archery target, Johnathan had finally slipped up. The wooden target Declan had been hitting this past week finally gave way to the powerful impacts of Declan's new bow. The target fractured, and the arrow pierced Johnathan's torso. It wasn't a fatal injury, but it was enough to give Declan a real scare. He hadn't signed up to kill peasants, and if the Brotherhood was going to ask him to do so, then Declan wasn't going to be working for them for long.

Unfortunately, leaving the Brotherhood wasn't an easy task. They had agents everywhere, and couldn't afford information regarding their practices to reach the ears of Camelots guards. The only way Declan was going to be able to leave, and keep his head, was to have leverage, and there was only one place Declan could think of where he might find it.

The Black Knight didn't spend much time in his office, but during his initial acceptance into the Brotherhood Declan had taken note of the many tomes and articles that had adorned the office walls. It was the only location Declan was aware of that had written information about the Brotherhood, which meant it was bound to have something useful. To slim pieces of metal slipped from Declans sleeves into his hands, one was triangular in nature, the other straight. These were the tools of his trade, and after a moments tinkering, the locked door opened with an audible click.

The office was kept immaculately, the books organized and placed with care atop the large shelves behind the desk the Knight was usually seated at. Declan's feet crossed the room silently, his eyes roving over the titles of each book as he passed them by. Most were nameless, but upon further inspection could be identified as recruitment statistics. Others were training manuals, some written in languages Declan couldn't even identify, but none of the handful of books he had selected contained anything of real value to the Brotherhood Squire. The thief's tongue ran along his teeth as he took a seat in the Black Knights chair. There was a new book, black in color with the binding fresh and the pages mostly blank laying inconspicuously on the corner of the knights desk. The lithe fingers of the thief flipped open the cover and scanned the first few pages. Declan's dark eyebrows rose in recognition as he began to understand the implications of this journal. It was written by the knight himself, but the subject of each entry, was on Declan.

The sound of a key turning in a lock was the only warning Declan received before the office door was opened, and the hulking figure of the Black Knight stepped inside. Normally Declan would have hid, propped himself over the doorframe and dropped down once the coast was clear, but today wasn't the time for cowardice. Declan's feet were propped up on the Knights desk, exuding an aura of confidence and comfort, despite the intense look in his eyes.

"This is an interesting read," said Declan before the Knight could speak, his finger flipping to the next page as his other hand, the one hidden form view beneath the table, readied one of his daggers.

"Who is Dante?" the question hung in the air for a moment, and Declan couldn't help but feel as though he would not live long enough to hear the answer.

[The Dark Knight]

The Knight walked through the halls leading to his office. All of his personal guard cowered in fear as he passed. He liked that. Being feared was the most powerful asset he had in his line of work. If you could intimidate somebody, you could make them do anything. He pulled the ring of keys out of his armor and set one in the door.

He was donned in his Brotherhood armor, black as hell and strong as heaven. Rumor had it that it was forged by an angel and a demon, but no one knew its true origin, save the Knight. His helmet was hanging behind his desk, he only wore it when he was training a recruit, he hated the way it made him feel closed in. Suddenly he heard a rustling on the other side of the door. He sighed and pushed it open, whoever was inside was about to meet their end.

Needless to say he was surprised to see Declan sitting behind his desk as if at home, but his face remained in its constant expression of blank annoyance. He closed the door and locked it behind him. The boy had joined some months ago, and he was making progress, hell, the Knight might even admit to liking him. He saw that the boy had potential, but this was inexcusable.

He heard the question and silently turned to Declan. He waved his open palm upwards and snapped his hand shut, lifting the book from Declan's hands and closing it before magically directing it towards the shelf behind his desk.

"Dante Grixis was the best assassin the Brotherhood has ever seen. He has done wonders to improve our guild in power and in the public eye. Tragically he was killed by the Prince." He said without any real emotion. Now that he answered his question, he had one of his own. "Now, what the hell are you doing in my quarters?" He asked with a tone that dripped venom. In one swift motion he raised his hand and shot a blast of energy from it, which blew papers from the desk and slammed into Declan's chest, knocking the chair over and sending the boy to the floor.

He shook his head, this boy was going to get the beating of a lifetime. He took a few slow steps across the room and stood over his form on the floor and looked down upon him. "Get up." The Knight spat.

[Declan Moss]

Declans eyebrows hut up in surprise as the book in his hand was pulled into that air, and slammed shut. He had heard rumors that the Black Knight was under the effects of black magic. He hadn't been counting on him actually being able to use it. Declan wasn't a slouch when it came to spells, but he couldn't throw them around like the spellslingers at the Mages guild, and probably, not nearly so well as the knight. Whatever slim chance he had had at a fair fight had just gone out the window. Still, he thought to himself confidently, its going to take more then a parlor trick to slow me down.

The young thief stood his ground, or more accurately, lounged about carelessly, as the Knight obliged his curiosity and explained the man behind the name Dante. Apparently he was some kind of hero to the Brotherhood, a beacon of hope to the Lows that who had had the honor of dying a glorious death. But that didn't explain why he was mentioned in Declans log. At long last the Knight asked Declan a question he had been expecting. He even had a speech prepared.

"I'm here to-" he began, before being interrupted.

An invisible force collided heavily into his chest, driving the breath from his lungs and his body to the floor. The thief gasped, and clutched at his chest. That was one hell of a parlor trick he thought, his eyes focusing long enough to recognize the heavy helm of the Black Knight falling towards him, knocked from its resting place during the magical attack. He caught the hunk of metal, and staggered back to his feet. Things were certainly not going his way.

"I'm here, because you pair me against children," Began Declan, his tone venomous, his eyes dark with rage as he used his speech to walk around the desk, "because despite my vast talents I have yet to be given even a trivial assignment. I'm here to find some reason, to remain with the Brotherhood, and if I can't, then figure out a way to end your life." He annunciated this point by hurling the helmet at the Knight. Declan wasn't a warrior, but he was determined to at least leave the Knight a scar he wouldn't forget. With the helmet in midair Declan dived forward into a roll, so that when the maneuver was completed he was in a crouched position, with his momentum still carrying him forward into a tackle at the Knights knees. The tackle itself would do much damage, but the dagger in Declans hand would. The slim blade was aimed the knee joint, on the side where the armor was not comprised of heavy plates. The weapon could easily work its way through, and from there the Thief intended to use it as a handle to lift up the Knight's leg, and bring him to the floor where his armor would be a detriment.

[The Dark Knight]

The Knight smirked. The boy though that he could actually do something to harm him. He had years, many years, of training and experience on Declan, he knew what the boy was going to do the second his helmet left Declan's hand. He batted the helmet aside with his right arm, his gauntlet protected him from any damage. Quickly he spun out of the way of Declan's calculated attack which left him sprawled on the floor.

He stomped down with one of his heavy boots which landed on the hand with the dagger, making it useless as Declan couldn't move that hand. "There's a reason for that. You're nowhere near ready with your training yet to do any real mission, let alone expect to best me in combat." He said with an annoyed tone.

Declan was proud, perhaps too proud. The Knight couldn't help but feel like perhaps he was investing too much time and effort into making this boy something useful. He kicked the dagger away and took a step back. "That all you got? I expected something better from the great Declan Moss." He said in a mocking tone of voice. He was going to beat the boy until he was ready to be reasonable, and judging by the fact that he had yet to come close to landing a hit the Knight figured that it wouldn't be long.

[Declan Moss]

To say that Declan's plan hadn't gone as well as he had hoped was an obvious understatement. The Knight, despite being weighed down by his armor, managed to completely avoid Declans attack, and do it in such a way that the nimble thief ended up sprawled on the floor. Which wouldn't have been so bad if the metal boot of his adversary hadn't slammed down onto his unprotected hand. Declan literally heard what he assumed to be a bone snapping from the impact. Though, that may have been nothing more then his imagination combined with the horrendous pain of having his hand mangled. He would have let go of the dagger if it hadn't been pinned to his hand, it was a natural response for his body to recoil from the pain, but to the younger man's credit, he didn't cry out in pain.

When the knight released the pressure on his hand Declan sprung back to his feet, taking a few cautious steps backwards. He had seen enough men like the Black Knight to know that should he fail to escape, or kill the Knight, he would likely end up being used as an example to other members. Which would invariably mean death. Declan didn't have any intention to die, but he had no idea how to attack the Knight. That last attack should have worked, but it had been turned against him with surprising ease. Declan hated losing, but he hated being made a fool even more.

"That’s Bullshit," countered Declan as he choked back the desire to cradle his wounded hand. "Your nothing but a chicken hawk playing on the lofty aspirations of ignorant youths. The Lows think of the Brotherhood as if it were a chance for them to take back control of their lives, to become something better, but their just fodder. How many people are you going to let die, while you hide behind this desk? Kids like Johnathan. They don't belong here, their just grasping at a chance to stand up for themselves without realizing the implications, but you let them in anyway. You prey on people, and not just the nobles."

The brazen thief considered using some kind of dirty tactic to give himself the upper hand, but after his last trick , it was obvious deceiving the Black Knight was beyond his ability. So he decided to try a more direct approach. It was a simple jab, his hand shooting out light and fast towards the Knights chin, the only unarmored surface of his body. Sure, the Knight had experience, but Declan was a natural brawler, and the jab was his favorite weapon.

[The Dark Knight]

The Knight laughed at Declan's speech. He didn't see the truth yet. He opened his mouth to respond but his mouth snapped shut as Declan's fist made contact with his jaw. His head snapped backwards but he didn't stagger. Perhaps the boy was learning more than he thought. He went for the only place on his body that was exposed and that in itself was impressive. Impressive, but foolish.

He slowly brought his head down and locked his eyes with Declan's. Quickly he threw a powerful right hook aimed at Declan's temple. If it connected it would most definitely knock him unconscious, if it missed, The Knight still had a few tricks up his sleeve.