Arcadia's Ignoble Knight: The Sorceress of Ashtown

A Maid's Delusions

Holding up a small mirror to his face, Dranor could scarcely hide his disgust as he stared at the repugnant visage of the man who'd hired him reflected on the other side.

These mirrors were a new invention of MagiTech, apparently. Dranor didn't know how they worked, nor did he care to know. He'd received this several days ago by a courier who'd somehow divined his location. Obviously, his employer was keeping tabs on him and knew how to reach him. That fact disturbed him greatly, but he wouldn't allow this man to know that.

"It has been nearly a month and you still haven't killed Erica Angelo," Count Gerosso said, his mouth twisting into a disgusted sneer. "The only reason I hired filthy elf trash like you was because your magic is the only thing currently around that can compete with a Sorceress's magic. I hired you expecting results, not a mass of failures. My patience with you is growing thin, elf."

The way the man said "elf" like it was some kind of insult angered Dranor. This man, this disgusting, filthy, greedy human had no right to insult his kind, not when he himself had so many flaws that it made the Spirit of the damned jealous.

Despite his anger and hatred, which bubbled within him like a cauldron beneath the surface of his skin, he kept his cool. He could not afford to blow his top, not now.

"We are working on it, however, killing a Sorceress is no easy feat. Such an undertaking is difficult. It would be impossible for anyone aside from myself to kill a Sorceress of Erica's caliber."

Dranor and Vanya had spent this past month gathering information on their target. Erica was a powerful Sorceress. If he had to judge her by class, then he would say that she was somewhere around the upper-middle class power-wise, which coincided with her age. The older a Sorceress was, the more powerful they became—unlike an elf, whose strength was determined from birth and never fluctuated. It was an almost unfair advantage.

"It seems to be impossible for you as well, since I still have yet see her head presented to me on a platter."

"And I have told you that it will take time to come up with a plan to dispose of her."

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses! I have given you ample time! Just hurry up and kill the woman already! If you do not kill her by midnight tonight, then I will not hand over a single drachma to you! I will hire someone else, someone more competent to complete the job that you obviously can't finish!"

As the magical mirror went blank, Dranor gave a furious roar and threw the object at the wall, shattering it into millions of tiny fragments.

He panted for breath, his shoulders and chest heaving as his angered flowed out of him, until a pair of arms wrapped around his middle and a body pressed against his back. Within the embrace of his mate, Dranor could not help but relax.

"That man frustrates me to no end," he said, his calm voice at odds with his words and previous actions.

"That is understandable. He is a rather repulsive being. I do not enjoy working for him."

"I know." Dranor sighed and leaned further into Vanya's embrace. "I am sorry. If we could find work with anyone else, you know that I would drop him in a heartbeat. But..."

"We can't. Very few people would hire an elf." Vanya smiled sadly into his neck. "I know. It is why I haven't tried to dissuade you." Dranor did not say anything, leading her to continue. "What should we do? We're not going to get another chance to kill Erica by tonight. She has not left the sanctity of her tower since her return from the Avrondale Mines."

Dranor grimaced. It was true. Ever since her return home, Erica had not left the tower, not even to go shopping. This was not unusual, however. From what Dranor had gathered by listening to people speaking in the taverns, Erica would often hole herself up in Dorehan Tower, sometimes for several months. No one knew what went on in there, though rumors abounded about what the Sorceress did in her free time, as rumors were wont to do.