"...have heard tales of your bravery," Lord B– said respectfully to me, bowing slightly. "Only you can be entrusted with this perilous mission, although we know we have little to offer as recompense; we would be honored if you -"
"Dinner!" Pyotr called as he maneuvered through the door with a tray holding steaming bowls of stew in his hand. Eyeing the box, which was sitting on the table where he was about to place the tray, he raised an eyebrow at Ylsa. "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave that thing in plain sight while you sit there scribbling?"
Ylsa slammed her journal shut and stuck her tongue out at Pyotr as she got off the bed.
"It's not like anyone, including either of us, have any idea what is in there," Ylsa groused. "Why would anyone try to break into a random box that looks like it could stand up to dragonfire?"
"Uh, because it looks like it could stand up to dragonfire?" Pyotr retorted, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he went ahead and placed the food on the table while Ylsa pulled up a chair.
"Are you sure taking this assignment is a good idea?" Pyotr asked as they both ate. "There are all sorts of rumors about that Hylar fellow, and none of them good. I doubt the family would have sent just us on this mission if they had known it had something to do with him."
"That's exactly why we have to do it!" Ylsa asserted with her mouth full. Swallowing, she continued, "What do you think the family would say if we came running back with our tails between our legs just because this pathetic escort job ended at the Hylar Duchy?"
"I still don't like it," Pyotr grumbled under his breath, Ylsa either not hearing or not paying attention. Finishing their meals, Pyotr and Ylsa stood up to place their bowls on the tray so Pyotr could return them downstairs. However, Ylsa did not notice that thanks to the space Pyotr cleared for the tray, the box had been pushed dangerously close to the edge of the small table. As Ylsa stood, she accidentally knocked the table, which caused the box to tip end over end.
"Look out!" Pyotr yelled, only realizing the danger too late. The box thudded to the floor, and to the shock of Ylsa and Pyotr, popped open. Ylsa, too stunned to move, stood there as the shiny object which had popped out glowed brighter and brighter, as though it were about to explode, and a strange chill oozed out into the room. Ever the faster thinker, Pyotr leaped around the table, pushing Ylsa out of the way.
"Aaaaaaah!" Pyotr yowled through clenched teeth as he grabbed the object with his left hand and shoved it into the box, slamming it shut. His cry of agony shook Ylsa from her stupor.
"Pyotr!" Ylsa cried, kneeling beside him as he hunched over, clutching his left hand. "Wha-?" Her question was cut off as she saw the state of his hand. Pyotr's left hand had turned a deep purple, almost as through the entire hand was one big bruise. However, it was not swollen, but Ylsa's breath caught upon noticing something else strange. It seemed as if Pyotr's hand's blood vessels were wriggling madly under the skin, almost like there were little worms crawling within them.
"It's a demon artifact," Pyotr spat out, his face contorted in pain.
"That's impossible!" Ylsa gasped. "They're outlawed, having one in the Five Kingdoms means - "
" - Death," Pyotr cut her off, his breathing starting to even slightly as the pain subsided. However, the strangeness of his left arm remained. "It must have put some sort of spell or curse on me, something to do with demon energy," Pyotr frowned, finally managing to think straight.
"We have to go tell Lord Bouche!" Ylsa sputtered, starting to get up. "He'll know how to reverse - "
"NO!" Pyotr snarled, grabbing her with surprising strength and pulling her back down beside him. "Don't you get it? If anyone knows about what happened here, we're both dead!"
"But...Pyotr...what about..." Ylsa trailed off as she finally began to comprehend what dire straits they were in.
"We say nothing!" Pyotr ordered as he got to his feet and pulled out a bandage, which he began to wrap around his hand. "We act like nothing is wrong! Once we're safely out of the city and on the road, we'll figure out what to do. But if Bouche or Hylar or anyone else suspect anything, our lives aren't worth a wooden cent." Ylsa looked up at him in a mix of worry and wonder, a detached part of her questioning when Pyotr had become so reliable. "Get some rest, it's going to be a long day tomorrow."
While Pyotr finished wrapping his hand and took the tray downstairs, Ylsa gingerly picked up the box, which seemed to be locked as firmly as before the fall. Shoving it back in her pack after using some rope to tie it shut, Ylsa lay down on her bed, and Pyotr blew out the lamp and followed suit when he returned. However, Ylsa was too shaken to sleep, and could only lie there staring at Pyotr's back in the moonlight.