<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40FF40"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Martine Karembeux</span><br/><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">The youngest daughter of Sir Damian</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/d5668922-425e-4e73-8f97-dd73233101dd_zps99f99557.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Martine gave Iris a reassuring nod and got up, but before she could walk away, Hector's voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned around to face him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FF00">"Don't run away from me, Martine. I am sorry for earlier... I didn't want to hurt you, it was instinct, not me. Please don't be made with me, ok? Can we talk later today, only we two?"<br/></span><br/>Martine gave him a smile and nodded. Sure, she wasn't angry with Hector. He had always been the best brother she could imagine, so she was more than willing to forgive him this one lapse of control. <br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“Of course, I am not angry at you. If you don't repeat it. I am with Abel, if you search me and I wish you some nice day with Iris. Oh, and don't make her unhappy or I come after you with my sword...”</span> <br/><br/>Hector cocked his brow and chuckled and Martine chuckled too. Hector was a really big guy and she was small girl. The threat must be really make him pissing in his pants. Plus he knew that she would never hurt him intentionally. She heard Hector's soft laughter still when she was one stair lower. Returning to her room she started braiding her shoulder-long dirty-blonde hair. The last thing she needed was not being able to dodge Abel's attacks because her hair was sticking to her face. After braiding she went over to the closet where her armor was in a box. She had insisted to take it with her, while her father and Hector had called her silly and Danielle had shook her head in disgust. But now Martine was happy to have it with her. She put on the leg armor, then the breast plate. It had been delicately made by the old black-smith at the castle and he had etched some fine structure into the metal. It was really a nice work. Girding her sword, Martine looked at herself in the mirror. She looked every inch the deadly little girl she tried to picture to others. Slipping on her gauntlets she left her room and walked towards Abel's room. A patrol crossed her way and one of the soldiers looked at her amused, but she gave him a fierce grin and gripped her sword in the scabbard.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"Better think twice what you want to say, boy!"</span> <br/><br/>And while the soldier looked at her totally perplexed, with his mouth standing open, his companions laughed like crazy and mocked him. Martine still had a smug smile on her face, when her fist knocked hard at Abel's door.</div>