An assassin tasked with the death of the tyrant queen. A cursed princess with a dark secret.
All Kalren, the deadliest assassin of Aethralia, ever wanted was a peaceful life in the countryside, spending the rest of his days raising his young sister...
"In the dark alleys of memory, war's silent footprints leave whispers that haunt the heart, where battles may cease, but their echoes endure within the soul."
"Well doesn't that sound delightful."
The king laughed and slipped the small book of poems in his robes. "It helps remind me that the dagger – if used wisely- can be just as effective as a hundred men on a battlefield."
"Where one life sacrificed can protect the many, one can call this sinner a saint." Kalren recited the last line of the poem.
King Edric's brows raised.
"Yes, that is how it goes..." he stared silently as Kalren loaded up his belt with his daggers in a comfortable silence. The king sending him off before an assignment was almost ceremonial at this point. And though the king was a thoughtful man, he didn't do this for everybody; Such act was for Kalren alone. Whether it was because the king felt guilty for sending him off to risk his life since he was 10, or pitied the boy because it was Kalren's very own father that demanded such service from him.
"Kalren." The king placed a stilling hand on his shoulder. The young lad paused, surprised at this change in their routine. "Even if that is so, I need you to be careful. You are more important to this kingdom that any of us truly understand."
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"KAL!"
Kalren shot up from bed, his dream dissolving like butterflies all around him. Instinctively grabbing his daggers from his pillow, he rushed to the sound of his sister's cry, almost stumbling from the sheets that tangled around his legs.
Adrenaline pumping.
Vision narrowing into a pinpoint.
He rushed out of the cottage, ignoring the blinding light of the sun-if he had to, he'd swing blindly for all he cared.
"Vespin!"
"Oh, put those down." Vespin scoffed from towards his right. He's vision adjusted enough to see her scowling with her hands on her hips. "You forgot to close the gate last night. Again."
"I...uh" he glanced behind her, and sure enough, the cow pen was completely empty. He locked eyes with her and gave her a disarming grin. Unfortunately for him, it never worked on her.
"Any clue where they headed?" he asked, dropping the smile.
She pushed past him and stomped into the cottage, still frowning. "they usually like to head past the west hills," she explained as she swapped out her shoes and grabbed a staff, "the grass there are young and sweeter, but I didn't want to rotate them in that direction till the windy season."
"You're starting to sound like mother" he smiled. "Next thing you know, you're going to be complaining about your knees when a storm is about to come in."
