"And for the weekly ritual," Leon motioned to the bard, who did a makeshift drumroll with his fingers and the wooden table.

"Let's have Sir Valeur de Villefort on the stage!"

Valeur disentangled himself from a pouting Elfienne and stood up in one fluid motion; he walked up to the platform where Leon stood waiting, holding the chain which bound the weeping and adequately humiliated magician fast around her neck.

"Since this is your first night here--it just so happens to be that we hold this special ritual every Odin's Day--and you're a special guest," said Leon cordially, all the while straining to hold on to his end of the chain, the magician starting to thrash and fight against the restraints.

The previously-chivalric knight watched the girl's plight with a passive gaze. She tried to plead with him, wordlessly, looking up to him with a heart-wrenching brown gaze, but Valeur was seeing something else--all he could see was Alfrieda, crying for mercy in almost the same way; but instead of eliciting even a twinge of pity, he felt the beginnings of a righteous anger stirring up inside him. "What am I supposed to do?" Valeur asked, looking back at Leon questioningly.

Leon did the most dignified shrug he could muster. "Well," he said, "You do whatever you think she deserves. Maybe," he made a mock stage whisper that everyone in the hushed hall could still hear, "do the same thing that you did with yours."

A strangled cry escaped the magician's lips. Everybody, it seemed, knew about rumors regarding the scandel between the Villefort and Sourire families.

"Fine."

Cheers resounded through the crowd, and even Leon looked surprised; this was the first time he witnessed a first-timer to do the deed with nary an afterthought. He relinquished his hold on the chain, passing it onto Valeur. "Give us a good show," he said as he descended the stage.

Finally alone on the stage with the Bleeding Heart emblem with the half-naked magician, Valeur paused as he thought of what to do.

"My name is Ilyena," the magician whispered, with a sniffle.

"Yes, the guildmaster introduced you to us already. Why bother telling me that again?" Valeur whispered back, distracted from his thoughts.

"Nothing. I just wanted to spare myself from the humiliation of having to be raped by somebody who doesn't even know my name."

Then and there, he knew what he was supposed to do before doing his way with her: he kissed her, almost reverently, full on the lips, so gentle and heartfelt that one may think he was in love with her. Even the mage seemed to like what he was doing, as she was not fighting back or trying to get away.

The jaded knight was about to push the prone Ilyena to the rickety wooden floorboards when the pubs doors banged open. "Let go of my Ilyena!" A hysterical male voice resounded all over the sound-proofed walls of the establishment. A haggard-looking Sage leaned against the doorframe, catching his breath in deep gulps, brown hair in a bird-nest like mess, his gray robes creased and disarranged; apparently from running all the way towards the bar after hearing about what happened to his prodigal lover. "P-please. She--hah--doesn't deserve this."

Completely taken in by surprise, Leon quickly, nimbly stepped onto the nearest table and brandished the Grimtooth on his hands. There he stood, his arms outstretched to the sides, both limbs tipped with menacing, gnarled lethal chunks of cursed metal. "Sage Theophilus?" He hissed, furious. It was rare that anybody came to crash into the festivities; they he always had more-than-competent assassins and rogues blocking the way to outsiders and non-guests. It was evident to Leon, judging by the tears in Theophilus's magician robes, that there had been a--slight--scuffle outside. "You threw her out of your tower, did you not?" Leon snarled, transfiguring his once-pristine face into that of a wild animal's. "Everyone who breaks commitments of the heart belong to us, Sage. You know that."

Flustered, the sage shook his head. "I sent her out, yes!" he cried. "But I never wished this upon her. I never did!" Teeth gritting, he pulled out his thick, battered book out his robes, looking heavy enough to send hapless victims into comatose states, and laid it open on his palm. Theophilus glared at Leon and Valeur through his dark bangs, green eyes blazing menacingly, his panic thrown out of the window. "Let her go or else!"

"Theo..." Ilyena only mumbled, not knowing what to do. She lay there, limp in the Lord Knight's arms, frozen.

Chanting ancient words, Theophilus charged at Leon as he went to complete the words of his spell, weaving his way through tables and chairs. The assassins and the other occupants of the pub did not make any move to interfere; it was their Guildmaster's turf, and they only move when instructed to. In a swift motion, he lunged towards the table next to Leon's as the huge earthen spike shot out from under the wooden floor, shattering the table into glittering shards of glass and splinters of oak wood.

Leon was thrown into the air, but landed neatly on the ground, not losing his poise. "Clever Sages. I wonder if you can beat me...by the book?"

Theophilus straightened his pose, no sign of casting a spell evident in his movements. "Let's settle this in your terms then, assassin." So saying, he brandished his spell book as a weapon, not unlike how one-handed sword knights positioned their blades, and his other hand curled into a tight, meaty-looking fist. He threw a venomous glare at Valeur, who was all the time holding his Ilyena, who in turn still did not make any move to shrug the knight away. That, or she plainly liked being where she was at the moment.

"I'm going to kill you all...even if it takes my life," whispered Theophilus. Then, grinning madly, he threw his book-arm up and shouted:

"Abracadabra!"