2 Knife and Cold Water

Trying to compare the feeling of Cold Water and the touch of a knife's blade on the back of your neck might sound strange. But I can remember both feelings, especially if I think hard about it. Though, memories of the Cold Water are usually nicer. Let me explain...

When I was eleven years old, I used to help in my dad's bar, mostly cleaning tables. One calm evening, with only a few tables being used, I went to clean up after a group that had just left.

In the corner, there was a table for two. A man and a woman.

Both of them were from the Imperion race, which wasn't surprising. For some odd reason, we didn't get many humans in our bar. Maybe it was because we were humans too and they didn't like that. Even my dad usually avoided doing business with other "Terrans."

There was also a group of three at a table near the far wall. All of them were men, and also Imperions. As I was cleaning the empty table, I noticed there was no tip left and then heard a gasp from behind.

When I turned around, one of the three men fell face-first into his plate of Petrox leg with red peppers. I had made the sauce that day and my first thought was that I must have messed it up.

The other two men stood up, not looking worried about their friend at all. They started to walk towards the door and it looked like they were planning to leave without paying. I looked for my dad, but he was in the backroom.

I looked back at the table, trying to decide whether to help the choking man or stop the two men who were trying to leave without paying.

That's when I saw the blood.

There was a dagger handle sticking out from the man's neck, his face now in his food. I realized what had happened and decided I wouldn't ask the two men who were leaving for money.

They didn't rush or make any noise. They just walked past me quickly and quietly. I couldn't move. I don't even remember breathing. All I could feel was my heartbeat.

Someone stopped walking right behind me. Scared, I silently called out to Nyxara, the Demon Goddess.

Then, something cold and hard touched the back of my neck. I was too scared to move. If I could have, I would have closed my eyes. But I just kept staring ahead, accidentally catching the eye of the Imperion girl who was getting up from her seat. Her companion tried to stop her, but she brushed him off.

Next, I heard a smooth, hushed voice whisper in my ear, "You saw nothing. Understand?" Given the knowledge I have now, I would've recognized that my life wasn't in real danger; if his intention was to kill me, it would've been done by then. But, being inexperienced, I couldn't help but tremble. I wanted to nod but was too frightened to.

The Imperion girl was nearing us, which must have been noticed by the man behind me. All of a sudden, the cold touch vanished, replaced by the sound of retreating footsteps.

I trembled uncontrollably. The tall Imperion girl placed her comforting hand on my shoulder. A look of sympathy radiated from her face, something I had never received from an Imperion before. It was as unnerving as the episode I had just experienced. I felt a strong urge to fall into her comforting arms, but I held back. I realized she was murmuring reassuring words. "It's okay, they're gone. Nothing's going to harm you. Just relax, you're safe now..."

My father barged in from the adjacent room.

"Viktor!" he shouted, "What's happening here? Why—"

He froze as his eyes fell on the lifeless body. I heard him retching and felt a sense of shame for him. The firm hand on my shoulder eased my trembling and I turned to look at the girl before me.

"Girl?" In truth, I couldn't determine her age. Being an Imperion, she could be anywhere from a century to a millennium old.

Her clothes were black and grey, indicating she was of House Vorgan. Her companion, now making his way towards us, was also a Vorgan, as were the three from the other table. There wasn't anything unusual about that; most of our patrons were either Vorgan or occasionally Baku (each Imperion House was named after a creature from our world).

Her companion stood by her side.

"Your name is Viktor?" she inquired.

I nodded in affirmation.

"I'm Liora," she introduced herself. I simply nodded in response. She flashed a smile before turning to her companion. They paid their bill and departed. I returned to the grisly task of cleaning up after the deceased man and my father.

"Liora," I thought to myself, "I won't forget you."

Later, when the Huang Guards arrived, I was in the backroom. I overheard my father informing them that none of us had witnessed the incident since we were all in the back. But the sensation of a knife blade against my neck was something I'd never forget.

Fast forward to when I was sixteen, trekking alone through the jungles to the west of Avandryl. With the city over a hundred miles away, I was relishing the solitary journey in the middle of the night. The faint fear of possibly encountering a wild Pardus, a Behorn, or even, God forbid, a Dragon added to the thrill.

The sound under my boots alternated between a crunch and a squish. I made no attempt to tread lightly; I was hoping my noise would deter any beast that might otherwise deter me. Though the logic behind this doesn't make much sense to me now.