protected - dnf

nineteen, pt. 1

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nineteen

Nobody knew anything about the assassin himself. They didn't know where he was from, or what his strange name meant. They didn't know why he rarely spoke, or where he went when he disappeared for months at a time.

But they knew his work. Throats slit in the dead of night. Knights cut down where they stood. Entire groups of bandits or soldiers found slaughtered, not a single enemy casualty among them. There was only one assassin in Albion who worked with that kind of deadly efficiency.

He had magic, but that wasn't the scariest thing about him. The scariest thing about him was how he wielded a blade as though it were weightless, as though it were another limb. That was what most people called him, actually. The Blade.

If you were brave enough to ask the man himself, he might have told you he found the moniker a little silly. But it gave him an air of mystery that only increased demand for his services. So Technoblade didn't correct people, and he rarely gave them his full name. He just sharpened his weapons, tended to his small farm, and waited for the next job.

He had helped the Circle at various times over the last few years. He supposed it should have mattered that the Circle was allegedly on his side, making it less risky to be a magic user, but he didn't really care. Mainly, he kept helping the Circle because they had the most interesting assignments: noblemen whose deaths needed finessing, or knights who could put up an actual fight. They were always much more challenging than the usual, boring requests he got, kills without honor or difficulty.

Techno didn't care about who was in charge, as long as the person in charge left him alone. He only cared about being the best at what he did.

And the job Minx had been dropping hints about for months, the job that was allegedly bigger than anything he'd done yet... that had real potential.

So on the day Minx arrived at the doorstep of the Blade's little farmhouse, walking in just as he was pulling off his mud-caked boots from a day in the fields, he could see by the peculiar glint in her eye that the moment had arrived.

"They both need to die at the same time," Minx said, lounging on the chair across from Techno. "Can't be room for either of them to mount a defense."

"Tricky, but not impossible," Techno mused. He absent-mindedly tied back his long, straw-colored hair into a ponytail as the gears in his head started to work over the details Minx had provided.

"Do you have someone you can ask for help?"

"Don't need it."

"Love the confidence, but you are infiltrating a heavily fortified castle to kill two simultaneous targets," Minx reminded him. "Backup wouldn't be the worst idea."

Techno huffed, but dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Fair enough. I'll ask around." That was... an exaggeration. Techno wasn't especially social. He would ask Phil, and Phil would say yes.

"Good," Minx said, flashing a grin. "They won't have a clue what's coming."

Techno hummed. "I sorta hope they do, actually," he said, pulling his favorite knife from its leather sheath and flipping it over in his hands. "That would make things much more interestin'."

As a slow grin spread across his face, Minx caught a glimpse of the sharpened canine teeth that had led many people to speculate that the Blade wasn't fully human. Even though she knew better, it was still enough to send a shiver down her spine. Not for the first time, she counted herself lucky that Technoblade was working for her.