The Scarlet Assassin

Chapter Two

The Ravaryn castle wasn't anything to brag about.

With tall walls and gates that seemed to brush the sky and dark towers with scarcely any color, it was more of a fortress than a castle. Guards were lined up at all posts, changing out only when fatigue or hunger took the better of them; or when they simply dropped dead. The spiked gates kept intruders out, and an ominous mist clouded the base, where the streets of Kevan met with the gates of the castle.

As uninviting as it was, I had called it home for the better part of my life. Enjoyable wouldn't be the exact word I'd use, but I had warm water and enough food for three full meals a day. Now, I'd be lucky if I got one decent filling.

Around sunset, after a thorough cleaning,- the King is all for appearances- I was walking up to the castle, dressed in my usual dark purple jacket and an array of knives tucked underneath. The collar was pulled up high, hiding the sides of my face, and my hair was braided down my back.

Four guards blocked my entry into the first security gate. I recognized one as Alarik but the others were too young for me to know. Alarik gave one look to me, scowled lightly- he must still be sour- and raised his staff across my chest to stop me.

"You have no business being in the castle. Go scurry off to whatever hole you crawled out from, assassin," he hissed, gaining an uneasy look from the other guards. I raised a brow and said smoothly,

"I see you're still bitter, Alarik." His eyes narrowed and his hand clenched tighter around the staff. The moon went behind the clouds, hiding his face.

"You stole from me."

"And it was spent undeniably well, thank you. What would I do without a new coat?" Alarik let out a hiss of air between clenched teeth and pushed me back with his staff.

"Get out of here, thief, before I drag you into the sewer waste where you belong." The insult rolled over me easily. Without breaking eye contact, I reached into my pocket and handed him the king's note. He hesitated before taking it.

His hand brushed over the crest, making his lips form into a tight line. I kept my face hard, waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. Giving up, I spoke first.

"It was years ago, Alarik." I leaned in. "So I'd suggest letting it go and opening the gate like the good little soldier we both know you are." He finally looked up and gave me my note back. The staff dropped from my chest, and he nodded to another guard on the inside who pulled a lever. Chains clanked against each other, breaking the silence of the night, lifting the gate.

"You're going to get what's coming to you- what you deserve- assassin," he called after me as I walked away.

At the next entry point, the guards didn't give me any trouble. They checked my note, looked me over, and let me through the stoned archway. I continued my way to the castle front doors.

Once inside, guards walked me through the corridors painted with ivory and warm tones that contrasted with the exterior. I had a small inkling that the King wanted me under watch, that I wasn't trusted. I didn't know what for, but you don't get bodyguards for not doing anything.

Every now and then, when I heard their footsteps quicken, I'd glance back and count the number following me, to make sure it didn't increase. Their hands stayed on the hilt of their swords at their hip and their eyes were fixated on me- my steps, my gaze, my hands, and knives. I made sure the distance between us didn't differentiate.

Finally, after a lengthy walk, I made it to the throne room's heavy, oak doors. Two servants pushed them open, revealing a dimmed down, stone room with a single velvet carpet running down the center. Drapes hung on the walls behind a large, oversized throne where His Majesty, the King sat. The few windows were dark from the setting sun and the only light was the few lanterns along the walls.