The Nauta

If you attack a shadow, it will strike back.

"This is talon strike force reporting, altitude: 20,000 metres, approaching location, confirmation for drop."

"Talon 1, this is central command, you are clear for engagement, may the falcons fly with you."

"Confirmed, all systems optimal, craft secure, drop point in sight, mission understood: assassinate emperor of Galkaim, log alpha, channel alpha, talon 1 out, reporting to base in maximum forty eight hours."

High up in the grey sky swirling with an impending storm, the silent hum of a falcon craft arced through the night sky, whizzing through the clouds above the Galkaim Empire in a foreboding shadow. The hatch on the floor hissed open, the 4 talons, all clad in black, with their capes billowing behind them in the cloudy mist, leapt out of the supersonic craft, into the storm above the Galkaim Imperial palace. The wind whistled in the ear of Talon 1, as he and his teammates dove through the sky, their backs straight, feet pointed, and hands pressed on their sides.

A trail of vapour whizzed behind them, their speed remains unchanged: 350 km/h, zooming silently towards the Galkaim palace, with its spiralling towers, and elaborate archways, it is one the most extravagant building in the entire Galkaim empire, as well as the most tightly guarded establishment in the entire region of France.

They exited the clouds.

Sergeant Mais has had a tiring day, standing at his post, under an archway of marble, elaborately carved, every tiny detail in this facility is scrutinized to the tiniest detail, fit for currently the most powerful ruler of this continent, whom he guards with devotion. His feet were sore, and he cannot wait to get back to his quarter. He looked at the grey afternoon sky, thinking about his newborn, and his wife, which he will be able to visit this weekend.

Unfortunately, his day is about to get more interesting. Four flashes of black whizzed past the sky above him, crashing through the palace windows, breaking its gold painted wooden frameworks. There was a shout from above, then silence.

The silence seemed to press down on all sides, oppressing the very residences of the palace, alongside the shadows.

Mais only had time to look at the midnight sky before something flew from out of it, black against the moonlight. He could feel blood soaking through his neck protection. He looked down.

A dagger, its blades smoky black, unable to reflect any light, was sunken in his throat.

The last thought he had was that blades that do not reflect light must be dark magic.

The dark archway in the corner of the lavish palace was a mess of glass glistening against the faint moonlight. Talon 1 fired his pistol in quick succession at the guards on patrol, not giving them time to react. Fitted with a silencer, it barely dispelled any sounds, the crumples of the guards' bodies being noisier than the gun. Nevertheless, this is enough for reinforcements to come shortly. The talon team leapt lightly across the thick, blood soaked carpet, conveniently coloured red. Their feet silent, their backs crouched and their muscles beneath their triple-layered bulletproof armour bristling with tension. Talon 2 and Talon 3 took the front, pointing silenced assault rifles at the corridor lit with fire torches, Talon 4 pointed his machine gun behind the rear of the team, as Talon 1 directed the crouched team swiftly, a biochemical grenade in his left hand and a submachine gun in his right. All the Talons' guns were silenced, as per standard of the Falcon Eye, the blood of the dead guards hissed, the potassium particles from the bullet reacting with it, breaking down the bullet, made of compressed sugar, which melted into the pool of blood without a trace. The "sweet" bullets are as hard as normal steel and the standard projectiles of the Falcon Eye.