The dead are too good at their job. Too silent. Too still. They are dead, and yet I hear Mother's voice as she hides with me in the cellar, telling me not to worry. I hear Father's voice calling for help as he defends the Clan Elders. I hear the evil crackle of the fire as it consumes my house, burying my mother and me alive.
But the dead can't speak. Now, all I hear are the bugs and critters slipping through the leaves. The birds call out to each other, their sound sweet and bright. I hear the wind blowing through the trees, sending leaves rattling and swaying. And I hear the squelch of boots marching through the Marsh, swords slapping against thighs, arrows rattling in quivers. Above it all is the creak of a carriage, its wheels struggling through the mud and the Marshland's soupy terrain.
They seem to be taking one of the newer roads that go through this old Shade village, passing its ruined treehouses, and perhaps finding any lost treasure that the Peacemakers may have forgotten when they raided this place, all that time ago. So much lost, and all these people do is march over the ruins without respect for the Clans. What arrogance. What I would give to put my parents' blades through each and one of their hearts.
Standing from my kneeling position, I bow my head to my family's grave. They gave their lives for the Clans, and they can't even sleep in peace. They can't rest without a thief stealing through the night, trudging through the graves to find anything of value from these abandoned homes. Bowing one last time to their gravestones, I turn to find the people disturbing the Shades' eternal sleep.
Slipping on my jacket, I start to put on my gear. My parents' twin swords, their black steel slipping into their sheathes on my back. My quiver strapped to my left thigh, the shafts made of hardened willow, it's fletching black. An assortment of knives and daggers in the sleeves of my jacket, hidden in my boosts, stowed in my pants. I flip up my hood and pull up my mask, hiding everything but my face.
Each Shade would be given this uniform when they've graduated from Acolyte to Shinobi, and become a full-fledged Assassin and soldier of the Shade Clan. Now, it's worn by every Revenant Member, whether they are Shade, Wraith, Phantom, or Spectre. I wonder what Father would've thought if he had heard of a Spectre wearing a Shade's uniform. He might've fainted and just never woken up until someone told the Spectres to take off the uniforms.
I only knew my family for eight years, and yet, all the memories hurt as if I'd known them for years. I'll see them again, but I'd rather see where my journey goes before my life goes out like a light. With a final look at my family's grave, I turn to investigate the convoy.
They aren't hard to find.
The convoy doesn't bother hiding its presence, figuring that no one would dare attack royalty. A Revenant messenger raven had come on my short journey to find the group, and attached to its leg was the briefing of my next mission. Protect and guide this Royal Caravan through the Marshlands. They'd need me to vouch for them in certain parts, or Revenant groups would eliminate them, no matter the person.
Their force isn't a large one, but it was enough to defend against most dangers of this place. From the letter, the force was made up of about thirty veteran guards, all hardened by the war, ten or so Knights-in-Training, a Novice Battlemage, and a Knight of Shoni. They didn't tell me who the Knight was, but if I had to guess who it was, it'd probably be Sir Randal.
Perched on a tree above the camp, I could see that they were indeed from Shoni. Not that I would doubt the Revenants information, but it is always better to be safe than sorry. There have been too many missions where I trusted the information I'd been given and wound up killing a lot more people and making a lot more noise than I had originally wanted. So, now I scout with my own eyes, time-consuming, but worth the wait.
Now, I think, where would I find Randal? It'd be nice to see what exactly I'm signing myself up for. Also, I'd like to see him again. I haven't seen him in at least a year.
The convoy is camped in an old school courtyard, where children would go when their classes were done for the day. I remember when I was a child. When my friends and I would rush out of our classes, eager for the break. What used to be a beautiful place, with a marble arch and cobblestone smoothed to perfection is now a mess of weeds, crumbling walls, and rotting wood.
Pulling myself out of my nostalgia, I notice that a small group of boys have gathered away from the main group, a little ways outside the ruins, perfectly hidden and out of earshot of the others. It seemed as if the larger of the two groups was surrounding the other. Curious, I climbed through the trees until I was right above the boys, and could easily hear what they were saying.
"Micah, are you sure you want to be doing this? With her so close?" One of the boys was saying to the leader of the larger group. They were all wearing the combat gear of the Shoni Knight's Academy, save for one. He was wearing a long jacket, similar to mine, but where my jacket was mottled grey and blue and reached down to my knees, his was pure black, reaching all the way to his ankles. Battlemage.
The original speaker was still speaking to the boy named Mikah. "-No way you'll gain her favor if she sees this. You know she won't be . . . pleased."
Micah laughs, arrogance clear in his tone. Dressed as the rest in his Academy combat gear, there were the little things that set him apart. The ring of braided gold and silver on his right hand. The better condition of his boots and uniform, while the others were a little more ragged from the time on the road.The jacket he wore, with a seal of a pouncing wolf on the back. Micah Wellshire, son of the infamous Dicaron Wellshire, advisor to the King, and noble of Shoni.
I never liked the Wellshires. They are a crew of backstabbing snakes, always grabbing for the easiest and best way to make more money. The last time I worked for them, I was assigned to guard Micah. The spoiled brat kept me to the side and only called on me when his boots needed a cleaning. He thought he was on top of the world, having me on his beck and call. They never did like Randal.
Needless to say, I was very happy at seeing the look on his face when the assassin I was assigned to protect him against came swinging through his window. I think he wet the sheets. He had no idea how tempting it was to stay in the shadows and let the assassin complete their contract. But, the nobles would only use that to push the decision to rid the world of the few surviving Clanspeople, saying that I participated in the killing of Micah.
He'll get what he deserves in due time, I tell myself. For now, waiting is all that can be done.
"You think I care?" Micah rants. "Because I don't. I don't need her favor. My father has already begun talking about marriage alliances between our families. You and I both know the decision is her father's, not her's."
If only he knew how much the King of Shoni loathes his family, I scoff.
He steps closer to his rival. "Besides, Sorain," he drawls, "you're supposed to be on her personal guard? What do you think they'd say if the princess were to share her bed wi-."
The punch came out of nowhere. I'd expected Sorain to react, but the speed and strength he showed was incredible. He actually lifted Micah off his feet and sent him flying. Not many possessed strength like that, and only one family has been known to have it in the land of the Shoni. The Uslans; the family that's served as the Royal Guard ever since Shoni was founded. So, he must be Sorain Uslan, the next one to take on his family's role in the kingdom.
From what I've heard from Randal, the young Uslan travels with two other boys, Jorran Janary, a fellow trainee, and Shaqeen Conneron, a newly minted Battlemage. I recognize Shaqeen; Randal introduces us last time I saw him. That leaves the blond haired companion to be Jorran. A young boy ophaned by the war, he was taken in by another knight and trained to be on the Royal Guard. It's amazing how much I get from Randal, no matter where I am, he always keeps me updated on the most recent news.
Looking back to the fight, I see that two of Micah's friends have restrained both Jorran and Shaqueen, while the remaining three boys attack Sorain visciously, ganging up on him, instead of fighting like men. Shameful, but I can't expect more from a pompous and arrogant noble, especially Micah. Time to even the fight.
I wait until the group of boys pass under me, and a fall on top of them. Or, rather, on top of Micah, driving all my weight into his shoulders. An audible snap! can be heard, signaling the Micah has more than likely broken his leg. Already, I'm moving, tripping one of the boys and sending him stumbling into his friend, making both of the sprawl into the mud.
The boys restraining Sorain's companions watch this with expressions of surprise, and then anger at humiliating their friends. They advance on me, Shaqeen and Jorran forgotten, leaving Jorran to rush to his friend's aid. They should never turn their back to an angry Battlemage, and I could see Shaqeen begin to mutter under his breath, sending silver tendrils snaking towards the advancing bullies. A small shake of my head makes him withdrew his magic.
The boys gather themselves in a group, sizing my up. I wonder if it'll resort to blades being drawn. I hope so. My swords haven't been used for a few days. Ah well. I'll just have to enjoy this.
The first boy rushes me, winding up his right hand for a punch. Heavy power behind it, but only if it hits. Ducking under his arm, I let his momentum take over, leaving him slipping and stumbling in the watery ground. Mistake number one. The next one dived at me, the second mistake. I spin on my heel, driving an elbow into his back, slamming him into a tree. The final pair come at me from opposite sides, hoping to catch me off guard. Third mistake. At the last second, I launch myself backwards, letting the two boys crash into each other.
I stretch my muscles, content with the short workout. I start to walk towards, but a raven's cry sounded, and I duck, hitting the ground without hesitation. Not a moment too soon, as a dagger whizzed past, directly where my back had just been. In a flash, I get back on my feet, facing towards the first of my opponents, the one who had just thrown the dagger.
He alread has another drawn, advancing towards me. I smile, laughing silently at his stupidity. I walk to meet him, flcking the sleeves of my coat, allowing two knives of my own to slide into my hands. I got my wish. This is going to be interesting. Let's see how good these recruits are against a Cosmos Assassin.
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