So this is the first thing I’ve written in a while. Please tell me what you think? I want to extend this into a full story, but I’m not sure…. Thanks!

Crimson and sapphire eyes clashed as the two men regarded each other coolly. All emotion had been sapped from the room. Both men stood straight and rigid, their very different swords held at angles. Neither moved as a slight wind blew through the veranda that sat off the spacious bed room.

Blue eyes as he scanned the man that their owner’s Order wanted dead. The target was Lord Michael Nichol Alexander, Duke of Lorderon and Knight of the Black Fang. Tall in height, medium in build, tan in skin color, and short raven hair. Yet his most piercing feature was his crimson eyes. The younger boy scoffed and tightened his grip on his katana. This man would be no trouble.

Michael smirked inwardly. Here was a boy no older than 15 standing with some far Eastern sword. Another pathetic attempt by the Order of Light to exterminate him, what fools they were. He rolled his rapier in his hand once before scanning the child before him. Small, about only 5 foot 4 with a body size to match the petit stature and with long silvery hair held up in a high ponytail. If it weren’t for the oh-so-noticeable male arrogance and the striking lack of certain anatomy, he could be mistaken for a woman. Christian Sol was the boy’s name. He had heard of the child’s supposed powers with a blade, but now he doubted the rumors. Anyone could kill an old man in bed, even without a weapon. Crimson eyes glided up the small boy’s frame. Time to end this…Michael mused lightly, but the boy thought faster than he did.

With a silent roar and seemingly carried by the wind, the boy charged, katana leveled at his target’s chest. With a sidestep, Michael dodged the blow. The force of the dash carried the boy past his target. Yet he was not disheartened.

With another twist of the blade, the style of attack shifted. Rapid down strokes of the Eastern weapon sought noble flesh as the silver haired boy attacked. Blow after blow was dodged, not blocked, but dodged with was seemed like boundless ease for the older man. Christian felt his blood boiling as he swung again. Swipes, thrusts, slices, spins, kicks; nothing worked on the red eyed knight.

How can he be doing this? Christian yelled to himself. The only sign of his turmoil and rage was his sword-his eyes and body were calm. He shifted styles again, moving towards a style of surprise, hoping to catch the knight off guard, hoping to steal a crippling blow…

Christian began raining blows towards the elder man’s chest. Yet he was met with a stiff block for each strike. The true fight had begun. Metal rang out as the rapier coolly parried each incoming blow. A thrust was turned away, a downward slice stopped and thrown off, a sideways rising cut caught and the momentum used to push the boy back. Despite his skills with the heavy blade, the boy could get no closer to the older man than he could to his master. A wall of steel seemed to be there; his opponent’s sword was just an illusion…

The two combatants danced around each other. Christian hacked his way through three chairs in his furor, dancing over a table to get at his target. The blade thrust again, the ring of metal sounded in the open room, and the two men stood in a deadlock. The rapier of the elder swordsman was crossed with the katana of the young assassin. Christian rested for a moment, testing the leverage of the older man. His eyes widened as he realized his body was aching. In his rage, he had missed a crucial sign in the fight.

He had missed his energy leaving him.

Michael had not. With unbridled strength, he moved, throwing the heavier blade off his thin movement sword and begin to return the attacks-blow for blow. Thrust bit at the boy’s light armor. Two strokes of the armor removed the child’s breastplate.

Michael was in his element. Graceful slices of his blade flickered around him as he whirled the lighter weapon in dizzying patterns. With ease he pushed the silver haired boy back. They moved past the broken chairs, back around the table that Christian had upset, over the rug that threatened to trip either combatant. All the while, Michael bore down on the boy, draining the last of his opponent’s strength with each clang of metal.

Christian panted lightly, moving his blade only enough to defend himself. He hissed as his opponent’s blade ripped through his shirt, adding another hole to the several he had placed already. While the boy was distracted, Michael flipped his rapier and launched the katana out of the boy’s sweaty hands.

A smirk crossed the elder’s face as he planted his foot into the stomach of the assassin. The boy toppled backward, landing on the lounge seat that was resting the middle of the room with no apparent purpose. Michael advanced, pulling a thin dagger as he moved. Christian let his emotions break through. His eyes radiated fear as the older man leaned in, the dagger resting above his neck. Crimson eyes stared down with no apparent mercy.

Then the Lord struck.

Christian cried out as the dagger cut several lines into his cheek. He widened his eyes and looked up into the face of the man that had beaten him. Michael smirked and stood, straightening the robe he had dawned when the boy had barged in. He turned and walked towards his door, looking for his Master of Estate. He stopped when he heard a slight voice.

“It means?” Christian asked in a small voice. He sat up, staring after Michael hatefully. His hand was testing the bleeding wound, the red liquid staining his fingers and running down his palm.

Michael smirked. He ran a finger along the flat of the, gathering some of the boy’s spilt blood on the tip of his digit. He lifted his hand and studied the red liquid before he licked the substance off his finger. He then turned and stared into Christian’s shocked sapphire eyes. His smirk widened, the dagger glistened, and his eyes glowed as he spoke a single word in his haunting, velvet voice...

“Mine.”