[center][h1][color=fff200]Parthenopeus[/color][/h1][/center]
[center]Fuyuki streets, near the Academy//King's Banquet[/center]
[hr]

The boy-warrior is no king. He has no right to entry - and thus, did not try. Instead, he acted as a hunter ought. He lurked. He waited. While he's certainly no skulking assassin, and his pride is much too great to go to such an underhanded length for a simple kill, he's hungry. He was promised the world - he was promised he could do whatever he pleased. Those were her words. Of course, in reality - he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway. That's just who he is. Perhaps there would be a fight there. Perhaps blood would spill. Perhaps the whole banquet would turn to a flurry of blood and violence, of betrayal and kingslaying. If nothing else, it would be a fun light show, and whoever walked out, tired from the conflict - would step into the eyes of a hunter. He has too much pride to skulk around and pick off someone from afar, but not near enough pride to refuse an offering of blood. And weakness, to a hunter, is an offering of blood.

He didn't quite expect such a generous offer, though. His ears twitch, his eyes focus, and then widen, just a bit. What's that, over there? A rain. A hundred hundreds glowing droplets of light, pouring into the banquet. Of the things he expected, someone raining on their parade wasn't high enough on the list, it turns out. It's more than enough light for his eyes to get a perfectly clear view of the situation. Tail swishing, he draws himself taller, tongue tracing across his teeth, against the sharp canines, and grasps his bow. Good. A short, harsh laugh to himself. He has no idea who that woman is. It does not matter, though. He'll follow her. From roof to roof. She's fast, but he's fast. She can't run forever. And she's already used her Noble Phantasm once. He's sure that means he can outmatch her, if he's smart and careful. And if he cannot? Then it doesn't matter, either. If he loses, then he'll curse the world. If he wins, he'll praise himself. That's how it's meant to be.

Not a moment wasted. Not a thought spared to remorse. Not a single idea of mercy, or of restraint. This is how a hotblooded Arcadian man should be. He doesn't hunt her for a practical reason - though there are surely plenty of them - he hunts her purely for the desire to hunt. The desire to kill someone. Just for the thrill of it. There is no higher purpose, no larger desire to this fight, besides perhaps to prove that he can.

... Yes, truly, the Hun is not the only barbarian on this field. Bloodletting for the sake of bloodletting is nothing but barbarism for the pleasure. But for one promised the right to do whatever makes him happy - then he will be as barbaric as he pleases.

[@Flood][@Kyoka]