1. The Hunter Halfling
Fwump. Fwump. Fwump. Bambrielle opened her white, faded eyes. That sound was familiar. Clearly, it was the gentle flapping of wings; but they were trying to be silent. She reached out for the long, thin sword beside her bed and stood up. All at once, her senses went crazy. There was the sound of wings in her ears, the vibrations of the air pushing in around her, and a smell. She sniffed again slightly. The smell of mint, new books and gold filled her nose. If anyone else where there, they would notice nothing. Well, anyone else to an extent. Bambrielle was half hunter; enhanced senses were just a part of her genetic makeup. She heard feet landing softly outside her bedroom door. She flipped her long, chocolate-brown hair out of her face as the handle turned ever so, ever so slowly. The door inched open and a face peered around it at her. Smiling, Bambrielle dropped her sword and ran to the boy standing in the doorway. His light brown hair was short and neat and his eyes were of a deep, late-summer-night blue. She wrapped her arms around him and gripped him tightly. “It’s been so long, Gabriel.” She laughed as his wings folded back into his skin. Gabriel placed a hand on the girls head and ruffled her hair jokingly. For as long as she could remember, he had been looking out for her. In fact, his face was the first thing she ever saw. “The Head Archangel has requested a meeting,” He straightened himself out; “You are required at the castle at six this afternoon. I’m not aware of the details, but it must be important.” “Am I in any trouble? Hibichi would flip.” Bambrielle pulled back slightly, studying her friends face. “I doubt it, Bambrielle. I have to go now; I’ll see you this afternoon.” She nodded, watching the boy spread his wings once more and speed down the corridor. The Head Archangel? He ruled the entire world! Admittedly, that was just one country, but that was all there was. Everyone, magical beings, beasts and humans alike were loyal to him. Head Archangel Luppiter Fabula. What did he want from her? * Hair swept up into a high ponytail, Bambrielle ran to the castle gate. It was almost five fifty. Her armour bodice clinked and clanked and her two swords jostled at her hips. Her heavy, lace-up ankle boots thudded along the stone road until she finally reached it. “State your name and business.” The metal-clad guard demanded gruffly. She knew the protocol. She knelt down on one knee, leaning forward enough to place both hands on the ground in line with her foot, bowing her head low. The Royal Bow. “Bambrielle of Madra-Dios, born in the year 674. I am here by invitation of Head Archangel Luppiter Fabula.” The guard consulted a piece of parchment before signalling for the gate to open. It made only the slightest screech as the metal was pulled back by no one. She got back to her feet, rather ungracefully, and ran into the castles entrance hall.