Appearances Are not Everything

An eternity passed within Earnest's head. The person in front of him was undoubtedly Rosalind; she had her unstained face, her long, flowing hair, and her body cultivated through long and tedious tribulations. Although the exterior matched his childhood friend's visage, everything else was off. The cold gaze she cast from her eyes while holding the bloodied man in her grasp tainted the image of the noble knight that was Rosalind. A crook was more her appearance.

Against the stillness of the unarmored knight, Rosalind bared her teeth. "Watcha looking at, huh?" she snarled, tossing the poor sucker aside. "Either get the fuck out of here, or I'll have to deal with you too."

Neither sympathy nor warmth was present in her words. In light of that, Earnest's reality came apart further and further. There was no possible truth to the situation that he could accept—accept that his friend from early days was truly this cruel. A nightmare's chilling embrace was most welcome than having this knowledge.

Wherein the stunned knight stood in place firmer than a tree with deep roots, the woman with hands of cold blood's presence grew with every stomp. The closer she came, the darker the knight became. Seeing as danger crept up ever closer and how utterly useless the proclaimed knight was, Anise stepped into the marching path.

"We—We understand," the priestess said, swallowing her increasing beads of sweat. "Nothing happened here, and we'll be on our way."

Her words helped little as into their space stepped Rosalind. She cracked her knuckles, looking down at Illara's follower. A wide sneer wrapped the package full of maliciousness. "I know you." Her deep gaze penetrated the holy woman. "You're that missus who's always in that crumbling temple, aren't you? I heard that you're the daughter of some merchants with some heavy bags under their belts. Your whole family must be rich and fancy."

Anise had a guttural feeling about where she was going with this spiel. Still, she did not let herself show any emotion; the best response was to stay calm. "You must be mistaken me for someone else. I am but a simple follower of Illara. My goddess' words of kindness and mercy are all the riches I offer."

"'Mercy and kindness,' you say...Let's see about that." She pointed at the half-dead man in the dark corner. "How much 'mercy and kindness' do you have left for that man who's only a few steps away from meeting Todcry? If you truly are a follower of Illara, then prove your faith right here, right now."

Silence befell Anise. She clenched her fist tightly while her determined eyes gave no quarter to the threat in front of her. "While it is my duty to spread Illara's grace, I do not and cannot compromise with souls as rotten as yours." Her words sparked the air between them. "If you want to threaten me, go ahead! You'll see how great my faith in my goddess is!" The young woman wasn't even sure why she said those words. Perhaps she did not know either, but her instincts told her to stand up against this monster. It was just something she felt like doing.

Rosalind's air of tight superiority quickly turned into one of frustration. Now, even her face did not match her more feminine frame, twisted with burning fury. In one swift motion that wasn't tainted with kindness, her fist appeared only a hair's width away from Anise's undeterred face. However, at that same instance, the young knight finally sprung into action, putting money where his mouth was; he intercepted the attempted hurt, holding the attacker's fist tightly within his. Whether or not the woman in front of him was Rosalind could wait until later. Right now, she was nothing more than a threat to his companion.

"Back off!" Earnest growled, stepping in front of his surprised partner. His targeted glare was full of righteous fury. "You thieving piece of shit! Do you feel strong just because of a few empty threats?!" A part of his heart broke with every single word uttered while the other steeled itself in the face of what was in front of him. His hand's titanium grip reflected his burgeoning resolve.

There was no wiggle room for Rosalind's trapped fist. Her physicalities simply couldn't match Earnest's. In a contest of might, it was a no-brainer who would come up on top. That was also what caught the young knight by surprise when his firm-standing feet lifted off the ground. Graceless like a newborn foal, Earnest found himself floating into the air before landing heavily on his backside. He let his guard down. In his clouded state of mind, he overlooked one of his training's fundamentals: "Technique can overcome lacking might!" A quick shoulder throw did him in. He took some time to catch his breath and clear the stars that had formed in his eyes from the impact. Once he did, he immediately took a stance burned into his very core while his gaze returned to the person in front of him: The woman who appeared to be Rosalind. She stood tall, breathing lightly, showing absolutely little to no signs of distress as she held up her arms. Another flaw that put a wrench into her identity was her sluggish posture. That was nothing like how the real Rosalind fought, nor did it resemble any of the known combat forms within the knights' squads.

"Who are you?" Earnest asked sternly, closing the distance between him and his enemy.

"What does it matter to you?" responded she, putting on a strong facade of confidence while her smirk wavered. "If I were to tell you my name, would it change anything? Will you give me more money if I do? No! It won't make a damn difference!" Her words came out slow and with deceit. After all, it was all just a setup for her attack: a heavy hook.

Amateurish. Earnest easily dodged the predictable strike. He sidestepped and landed a quick gut punch that left Rosalind reeling. A single punch sent the air whooshing out of her lungs, which only disturbed the skilled knight even more. "I'll ask this once and only once again," he said with an unwavering tone while slowly approaching his already out-of-breath opponent, "Who. Are. You?"

Clutching her stomach but not dropping her mocking face, Rosalind answered with something so unbearable to hear that made Earnest's blood boil: "I'm Rosalind Shields, member of the 26th squad 'Zan,' knight of the kingdom of Amlarule." The moment she finished speaking, everything in front of him shattered like glass; there was no other way to put it. All the anger he had been building up came pouring out of him. Even Anise, a bystander throughout, felt its intensity.

"You're...Rosalind..." Earnest muttered, barely audible, as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. His fist tightened to the point where his fingernails nearly dug inside his palms. "Don't give me that bullshit!!!"

Like thunder, his strike exploded, and like lightning, it flew toward Rosalind. In the face of the mighty punch, the supposed knight only smirked widely. While the furious knight's fist was fast, her draw was equally as impressive. From the hand she clutched her stomach with, a small blade glistened in the moonlight's illumination as it raced to meet Earnest's defenseless throat. Once again, he was too caught up in the moment to realize anything. It was his doom. Although, he had a goddess' grace by his side. He wasn't alone.

"Earnest! Watch out!" Anise's words reached him faster than the malicious knife could spell his early demise. While the warning, combined with his quick action, managed to avert the worst, it was not enough to come out unscathed. The cold steel connected with one of his eyes, blinding him on that side. Even so, years of training made his motions flow better than water and more precise than clockwork. One of his hands reached for the inside of Rosalind's wrist, squeezing it with all his might, while the other smacked against her hand to disarm her.

"Urgh!" Rosalind cried out at the sudden pain. She tried for another punch, but a kick came flying her way as a counter. By all accounts, the supposed knight should have gone down with that last attack. Yet, she was still breathing and smiling. The reason for that was simple: poison.

Earnest's vision flickered on and off. He saw triple. Everything felt heavier as if he carried elephants on his back. Then, his senses dulled to the point of nothingness. Before he knew it, the hard, dirty ground and he shared an intimate smooch. Upon the young knight's sudden collapse, Anise rushed to his side, brandishing her sickle. She wasn't much of a fighter, but she didn't plan on fighting anyway. Her biggest concern was her partner's breath, which quickly became shallower and shallower. She turned his head towards her and gasped when she saw the veins from his eyes swell up. It was a symptom that she was all too familiar with: "Bite of the snake's fang."

"You know your stuff," chimed Rosalind in, panting heavily. "But that also means that you know he won't make it through tonight." She picked herself up, one burdensome step at a time. Her slow approach toward the duo had less vigor than initially, thanks to the beating she received.

Anise clutched her sickle with both hands, but she lacked the intimidation factor; her hands shook too much for the tool to be of any use. "G—Go away before...Before—"

"Just...shut up," said Rosalind while staggering as she picked up her knife. "This was...not worth the trouble. That guy...really packed a punch, and you are one of Illara's favorites. I swear I must be cursed or something." Her knees finally gave up, but she managed to catch herself against a nearby wall. "Shit! Guess you can give your goddess an extra prayer tonight, bitch, 'cause it would seem like she showed you mercy. I'm out of here."

With those final words, the woman, clutching her sides, limped past the priestess and the knight down the street and vanished into the darkness. While Anise could give chase, it would also mean that Earnest would be on his own. With no other alternatives, she finally let go of her sickle and fell onto her rear end. The weapon clattered noisily on the ground as her trembling fingers reached for Earnest's swollen wound. As the seconds passed, his condition only worsened. "Illara...my goddess, please, if you can hear me," her words were of that of the purest prayers: from her heart. "this boy—No, this man truly wishes to save his friend. Despite the doubts I cast on him and his intentions, he was sincere to the very end. Please, my goddess, as your always loyal servant, I beg you for a miracle to save that man's life. He can't die by the hands of a twisted image of his friend!"