Chapter 2: Night of the Assassin

Darkness spread across the castle grounds, no unusual sounds breaking the stillness of the night air. The moon was completely covered, and the clouds covered the stars. It was a black night, the only light coming from candles in rooms where men and women still squabbled. Night guards patrolled the walls, with hanging lanterns from their spears. Stopping now and then to look out across the moors, they told themselves all was well.

Who would be mad enough to even try to breach the citadel? So many armies had bleed on these walls and the plains before it that it was called the Wall of Blood, overlooking the Plains of Blood. Here, the Lord of the Houshen family resided, as had his forefathers before him. From here, he managed his estates and passed judgment on those he ruled over. No one questioned his rule, for his father before him had had an iron fist and his people thought him a saint for not following in his father's footsteps.

The legend of this fort was so far spread that often it never had an army stationed inside of it. As the years had passed since the wars that troubled them, the Houshen family had fewer enemies and a time came when all their soldiers did was to serve the Emperor. They didn't stop training them for that, but the conscriptions lessened, nowadays only the fittest both mentally and physically for war were sent out. The soldiers were all formidable, and many people would think twice before picking a fight with one of the simple soldiers, nobody it seemed wanted to take on the entire army.

The Houshen family still had its fair share of problems. They had many internal disputes over who was next in line for the throne; it was only through his sheer will that the Lord managed to keep his various uncles and relatives from ripping each other apart. He knew that since he had no heir there would be chaos after his death. But to him, his death seemed far away, something in the distant future. He still had many a good year in him and one day he knew he would raise an heir to be proud of.

A shadow detached itself from the watchtower. If the guard on duty had looked its way when walking by, he would have died. But before his imminent death, he would have seen a figure that he would remember for the last few seconds of his life. He would have seen a person with unnaturally grey skin and hair, and before he died he would have looked deeply into the deep red eyes of his killer. But the guard never looked behind him.

What need would there be? Danger could be seen from miles from this height, and what kind of animal could creep across the plains undetected? What kind of beast could possibly climb these walls bare-handed and creep up behind him? After all, no dark elves could possibly make it this far into the empire undetected….

Sirion, the dark elf watched as the guard passed him without a single glance in his direction. Climbing the wall hadn't been tough; it was a welcome warm up after the painstakingly tedious creep across endless grassland. Now he could finally start his mission. Sirion leapt from the wall onto the roof of the closest house. Sprinting along the narrow top as there was no moon to reveal him.

As he ran to leap of the building he aimed for the window of the next house. With a majestic leap he cleared the street and grabbed the ledge of the window, narrowly missing. Letting go of the ledge with one hand, he drew his four-sided knife from his belt sheath. He put the handle in his mouth as he grabbed the ledge again and waited.

Not long after the window below was opened. As a man leaned out to smoke, Sirion took his chance. Dropping from the ledge he kicked off from the man's torso as soon as he hit him, sending the bewildered man flying out and him flying in. He took in the scene of the room in one glance. A bedroom, and in front of him was one of the man's friends.

Still flying through the air, Sirion let go of his dagger with his mouth and grabbed it in his hand. He pierced the man through the heart with his dagger, and with his free hand he covered his victim's mouth to make sure he didn't let out any sound. This all happened in the blink of an eye as Sirion landed on top of the deceased.

Sprinting off towards the door he was out of the red room and flying down the corridors, before the wife of one of the men even had the chance to scream. There was no use in killing her since she wasn’t directly in his way. He wasn't some bloodthirsty hatchling. He knew his job, his target, and wasn't interested in mindless killing. He still enjoyed the crimson blood spraying on the walls, but he had no reason to pursue others in bloodlust.

He sprinted so fast down the hallway that he was a blur to anyone who saw him pass. At an intersection two guards tried to block his path. He leapt forward, twirling in the air, slicing both their necks in one movement. Before their bodies even hit the floor, he had rebounded of the wall and was flying down the golden hallway.

Antique armours were scattered here and there, along with old paintings and the odd decoration. Sirion didn't pay much attention to the details that didn't give him an advantage over his enemies. A vase was only good to him as something to smash or throw. A door only meant that if he hadn't seen somebody come out, it wasn't important. Armours only signified that there might be somebody he couldn't see.

At another corner he saw that he was heading in the right way. A couple of soldiers were standing near a window, some facing his way. They all wore the symbol of the Lord, meaning that they were his personal bodyguards. Not long now. As the first man sighted him, he was about to raise his sword. Before he could finish unsheathing it, Sirion did a spin in midair, slicing the air with his three sided dagger. A shockwave came forth from the slice, and pushed the man and one of his companions behind him out of the window. The other man fell as Sirion came out of his twirl, landing on him and burying his dagger through the man's eye.

As the last guard raised his sword to strike the crouching assassin, Sirion raised his head. His eyes meet the guards before he leapt of the deceased's chest and of towards the Lord's chambers.

The guard fell to his knees. He had felt the power emanating from the assassin. What kind of creature was that? He felt weak at heart, weak everywhere and his final thought before he lost all consciousness. Was that… a demon? And why did it look so young? The guard couldn't be further from the truth. Well, about one of his questions anyway.

Sirion ran on the ledges of the windows, jumping from one to another. His shortcut had created quite a useful distraction, if used well. He knew that if he had continued on his way he would have meet another dozen guards, and although he knew he could take them, he preferred silent assassinations. His only reason for entering the building in the first place was to move the Lord to a place he knew quite well, and where he could easily get him. Now that there was trouble near his quarters, most of the guards would stay outside of his door. A decoy would be in the royal chambers, and the Lord himself would be ferried away to his not-so-secret secret hideout. Besides, although silent assassinations were always fun and quick, he felt like he had to relish the hunt tonight. He hadn't killed in a long time.

After awhile he saw his goal, an open window in the adjacent house that lead into a black room. Jumping from his ledge towards the next, he twisted in the air kick of the wall straight into the room. He flew like a dart through the air and entered the room unnoticed. In the distance he could hear shouts and alarm bells going off, readying the troops for battle. After his scene, and the vast distance he had traveled, the guards must have thought that there were at least five separate members of the assassination squad.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sirion looked around the room. It looked as if he was in the servants' quarters. All the maids and such who slept here had to be still working, as there had been a feast the night before to celebrate the Lord's marriage.

Sirion smiled as an idea formed in his mind. He would earn extra for this job, for he wouldn't just make sure that the Lord died, but he would make sure that he had no heir. Not even a peace loving priest could ignore what he was about to do. By his waist there hung a pouch, and it held a large round object.

Sirion decided after a moments pondering that he wouldn't dull his blade with the blood of those he need not kill. So when he opened the room and walked out into the corridor, he jumped up and stuck to the ceiling. It wasn't wall walking, as people usually noticed when a dark man ran straight at them at great speed upside down. He crept along the dark ceiling because the lights below were made for people to see the corridor, nobody would be able to see him.
A guard troop rushed forward underneath him. He was slightly surprised that the guards were here. After all, he hadn't given them any cause for coming this way. As he heard a snatch of conversation from a nearby room, he realised that he wasn't the only danger to the Lord here. Another assassin had previously been sighted, but this one was more of a brute from what Sirion could gather. Either somebody didn't trust his methods, or they didn't trust this other assassin's methods.
Sirion decide that he now had to hurry. After all, now he had to kill one more person before his job was done. He was also determined not to let some idiotic thug take his prize from beneath his nose. Sirion crawled out of the window in front of him, still on the ceiling. He took a mighty leap from the side, and decided that the building was useless and would serve as a good distraction. He twisted in mid air, slashing with his dagger at the building.

A huge gash appeared in the building, as if a giant sword had cut it in half. The building stood for a moment, still, before deciding to collapse in on itself. As Sirion finished his twist he kicked off in the air, sending a shockwave into the building and propelled him forward. Like a comet he flew through the air.

After a short moment he saw his goal. He could see the building of to his right. He used another building as leverage to send himself in the right direction by kicking off from it. He viewed the different windows, not knowing which one he should land in, in moments he would either enter through one of the windows or through the brick and mortar of the wall.
As time seemed to slow down he eyed the windows quickly. The windows were now like paintings, each depicting its own scene. One showed a man and woman having an argument, and for a moment Sirion considered ending their argument by killing them, but the thought was but a fleeting impulse for death.

Another window showed a small family. The mother held a baby to her chest, and the father played with the two boys on the ground. A peaceful place. Sirion knew that no matter what happened, he would shatter the peace and tranquillity of this family forever. He considered killing them, not for mercy, but because the father would probably try to stop him, or he would die in the following wars. The children would see the death of the Lord as the beginning of their suffering, and in the future he might have to face them. Obviously they had no chance of defeating him, but he knew that with enough hard work, they could come close. And if he faced an equal opponent, such people as they could easily tip the balance in his enemies favour. He decided that he might just destroy the house after he had assassinated his target. Satisfied that this decision would destroy any chance of future problems, he switched his gaze to the other windows.

The next set of windows was in the middle row, and Sirion was sure that one of them had to hold the Lord. The one on the right showed a picture of couple of guards playing a game. They had removed their golden stylised armour and Sirion saw that the guard facing the window was obviously cheating, unless they were playing a game where the only value of the cards was ace, and you were allowed to keep extra cards in your sleeves. Sirion was slightly surprised that none of the other guards commented on the cheaters obvious methods. Then he noticed the insignia of the guards armour, and realised that he must have been a higher ranking guard. He felt like killing them for their obvious weakness and fear of their overseer. Then again, he considered, if he were to kill every weak person he came across, he would have to kill almost everyone in the world.

That left only the left window and Sirion's eye's tightened slightly when he saw that his target was there. The Lord was singing a serenade to his new wife, who was lying on a beautiful four poster bead. It was intricate with carvings of cupids and hearts. The woman was sitting on the bed, a beaming smile on her face as she listened to her husband's voice. As the Lord went down on his knees, Sirion flew toward him like an arrow.

As Sirion approached his target, he saw that the door was opening. The other assassin appeared, but he was far too slow.
The glass on the window shattered like ice, and Sirion's dagger hand flew straight and true. His Dakar went into the Lord's chest, and through his heart. Sirion landed on top of him, blood dripping down his arm, his other hand covering the corpse's mouth, a habit of his that helped keep his victims quiet.

Everything in the room stopped. The beaming smile of the wife was still on her face, and the other assassin was still opening the door. Before the smile could change on the woman's face, Sirion sprang out of his crouch like a snake and his dagger became implanted in the imposter's neck. As the force of his attack drove the corpse forward, his dagger got stuck in the wall. No matter, he didn't need it to deal with the last target. He spun around and leapt towards the widow. As her face turned from happiness to horror, death took all expression from her face.

Sirion removed his arm from her stomach. Usually, he only used this method when he was disarmed, but he often used it to show his enemies that he didn't even need a weapon to kill them. As he starred around the blood splattered room, he went forward and removed his dagger from the murderer's neck. Now came the clever part.

He moved the body of the assassin into the room, and then he severed its head. He laid the rest of the body so that the woman was holding him, and cut deeper into her so that her wound looked like that of a sword. He turned round to the Lord's corpse, and he made his body kneel. Then he took the Lords sword, placed the Lord’s death cold hands onto the swords hilt and drove it through the hole in his chest.

Anyone who saw this picture could come to only one conclusion. The wife must have hired the assassin to kill her husband. Anyone who doubted it would find a letter in her dresser from the assassin, a love letter. They would then come to the conclusion that she and the assassin were lovers, and that he Lord had caught them in the act. In his rage he had killed his wife and her lover, and in grief he had committed an honourable suicide. In the safe that held the will of the Lord, he placed another couple of letters, marked secret, and added a few numbers in the account books. These letters would state that the Lord had hired the assassin to kill his older brother, who had long been thought dead. Another letter hidden in a secret compartment in the wife’s jewellery box would contain information on how the Lord’s uncle had tried to kill him. As long as the will stated that a certain someone would get the jewellery box, the letter would invariably be found by the right people.
This would cause a massive blood feud between the families. Troops would be recalled to fight a civil war. This war would certainly last for generations to come. Sirion smiled as he left the building unnoticed. His job here was done.  But as he walked toward the window to make his escape, he remembered his own goals. Sighing that he would have to spend more time forging evidence, he looked over the room again.

He stared at the bloodstained room for a while and thought. His mission here was done, yet he had a feeling that he had to make sure the children died completely. Or maybe… he thought. He grinned as he thought of a new idea. He walked towards the corpse of the would-be assassin. As he looked over the body, he confirmed his suspicion. No markings. This assassin hadn’t claimed a tribe, and so it wasn’t obvious that he didn’t come from the empire. But with a certain tattoo or markings, he could be mistaken for an assassin from the empire…. Maybe from the Royal Institution of Assassinations, or another family.

After completing his final preparations, Sirion quickly headed towards the window. He barely made it out before the guards arrived inside. Sirion wasn’t worried if they had seen him, for anyone who had seen more than a fleeting image was dead. Except for that one woman… But Sirion let his mind come back to him, for he knew from her aura that she would be no threat. As he fell down the side of the building, he bent his knees and positioned his feet horizontally to the wall. Then, he kicked out and started flying across the courtyard below him. He acted on instinct and directed himself out of the castle grounds. There was barely anyone to stop him, and one of Sirion’s fleeting thought was ‘If an army were to attack now, the fortress would be easily crushed’.


As Sirion sat on branch of a tree a few kilometres away, he watched the carnage unfold before him. The troops of the different cousins were already fighting in the castle, he hadn't thought that it would take this little time for them to start fighting over the throne. It seemed that he needn't have added so much fuel to the fire. He considered for a moment the fact that he might have given them too much provocation, and that somebody was bound to notice that it was all too well set up. Some of the best troops in the Empire were being recalled, just when they were needed on the front.
He shrugged it off. No Imperialist would believe that an assassin would be able to travel through their lands, penetrate the Red Fortress, and kill the Lord of the Houshen family. That was just too farfetched. They would rather believe in fighting within an unstable group. Their naivety served his purposes well.

“Don't you think that was a bit slow?” a mysterious low voice asked him from behind. He leapt towards the next branch and twisted in the air so that he landed facing the voice. A white-skinned, blond girl with ponytails smiled up at him. He stared at her coldly. The wolf that she was riding on stared back.

“I mean, usually you finish these kinds of jobs within a week, but this time it took you nearly two weeks.” The girl added. She continued looking at him although he could easily have leapt forward and killed her. Annoyingly, he knew who she was and that he wasn't allowed to kill her, no matter how much he disliked her.

“Leslie what are you doing here?” he asked her coldly, whilst slowly rising from his crouch.
“We've been assigned a mission together” she told him, still smiling. “It's in the desert island of Roderia”.