The Assassin Of Lore

I

I'd never been the type for dresses or fancy clothing in masquerade balls. Yet, there I stood on the balcony, watching the sea of people before me flow slowly to the sounds of violin music that swarmed into their ears and danced with their senses. I rested my head on my arms and sighed loudly. Although I didn't have a personal taste for it, I couldn't help but admit that it was quite beautiful. The edges of the room were filled with windows lined with ornate, golden shapes that reflected starlight into the ballroom. On the ceiling, a painting of angels and demons danced above my head. The entire ballroom sung of aristocracy. Even though I stood far away from the main body, I could still feel the heat of the room below me; of the women holding their brightly coloured masquerade masks, dressed uniformly in their bright dresses.

Each person in the room was covered in bright materials of blues, pinks and purples. The women's corsets appeared so tightly laced that each breath was a burden and took more effort than something so simple as breathing should have done. Each dress ballooned out from the waist, crafted from glittering veils on top of silken and satin materials that made each dress look like a still lake glistening in the sun.

How was I ever to spot my target within such mayhem? Being a wealthy courtesan, my target was sure to have appeared at tonight's ball - her social status was high above most average citizen's, which made her a very important person to invite to an aristocratic ball such as the one I went to that day. I suppose, also, that I had a thing for pretty little things such as her.

Trying to find her in such a large room seemed almost like trying to find a black cat in a coal cellar, only much more colourful. Each person in the room moved together at exactly the same times, the same rhythms, much like a wave in a busy sea.

Finally, after what seemed of hours of scanning the crowd, I spotted her. I watched her move, from the way she swayed her hips, to the eccentric hand gestures she made. She didn't seem toxic - which was odd, for a courtesan.

She stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a bunch of people. She didn't stand out much, of course. She was a child's doll, adorned in a baby-blue dress with pink frills and bows. My target - gods be damned - was surrounded by a group of men swooning for her attention - of course, they could just buy it, but none of them would do that (despite being filthy rich), the bloody misers.

I strolled calmly down the golden staircase in calculated steps as I closed in on my target. Outside, the wind howled in the night, sending an icy draft in through the windows and a shiver down my spine. I watched her through the peering eyes of my mask; I was a bird of prey, eyeing her every move. She had not yet noticed me - she was too busy chatting away with a woman dressed in reams of frilly red silk, and laughing around with a circle of possible clients.

I took a deep breath in, and then breathed out. Slowly, I paced my way closer towards her, making sure my black mask covered as much of my face as possible. It's not like she would have recognised me anyway - I'd only ever seen her once, and I doubted that my curled brown hair would serve to show who I was - most of the girls around the grand city of Lore would have had my hair colour. But my outfits... perhaps not. I'd only met Madame Francis once before, and even that encounter had been brief.

"Madame Francis," I called to her as I approached her, the crowd around her dispersing, allowing for me to enter into their little 'circle' and speak to her.

"Oh," She looked me up and down, probably judging what I was wearing. It wasn't that different - I just don't like dresses."You're... You are a woman, aren't you? Your suit is a little bit... off putting." Her voice reeked of a pompous, posh upbringing.

'Posh bitch.' I thought 'I still have the hair of a woman, at least.', and then scoffed. "I suppose you could say that. How are you, My Lady?"