Nightslayer

Chapter 1

12 years later...

"Well done, Alistair, on that last one, I especially liked the creative example you made of him," Lord Draygun praised me as I walked in. We were in his quarters, Lavish silk and fine reds and golds covered his floor and his satin bed dominated the room with it's ornate woodwork. His walls were covered in paintings from prestigious artists as well as mounted conquests from his hunting expeditions. He stood with his arms folded behind him as he stared out his window, which faced south, overlooking his fiefdom.

"Thank you, my lord," I bowed, hating every minute of all the formalities I had to do, but I was on thin ice when it came to Draygun anyway, best not to aggravate him.

"Poor Roland, too bad he got in the way, I'll miss that fellow." Draygun added. He had hired me to make an example of Roland because Roland and a few other assassins, who had turned from the employment of "Draygun the Dragon", as he preferred to be called, had started hit-and-run raids on some of Draygun's caravans. He told me to be imaginative. It had been a test of my loyalties, this mission. Roland had been my brother. For years he and I had served Draygun side by side, an unstoppable force. Two years ago, though, Roland had suddenly become distant, removed. As we later found out, he had been turned against us.

One night, he and his team, my old team, approached me with a plot to kill Draygun. I had refused, which should have gotten me killed, but they spared me out of respect for old times. They had knocked me unconscious and tied me up though, they couldn't have me reveal their intents for the night. Ultimately the attempt failed, and Roland and his team escaped. Afterwards though, Draygun had been paranoid when it came to me. Believing that they had left me behind as a spy or something. He had refused to send me after my brother, or after anything of import for sometime. It took a long time to win back his trust, and so, when he finally sent me after my brother, the traitor, I of course, was more than willing. The only addition to the mission was that I had to make an example of him, makes his death a message for those of a like mind.

Every previous attempt on Roland's life had failed. He and his team were the best of the best, any assassin sent for them was sent back in a coffin. We had no intel on where he was or what he was doing. All we knew was that he was working for the King's special forces to try and cripple Draygun's war preparations. They couldn't outright declare war on Draygun, he held too much influence, it would tear the kingdom apart. So the court turned a blind eye to his deeds while certain of the books teams were set to stop him from rebelling. As of now though, he was still a well respected, or at least feared, member of the king's court, and was still a lord in his kingdom.

I, however, knew my brother. I knew his connections, and I knew his weaknesses. I had set a simple trap for him, me. He was a family centered man, when we lost our sister, he had nearly died. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist trying to turn me. He would never give up on me. So, through his network of spies and such, I simply let him know where I'd be. The location and time, and I waited for him. He had come with his team in search of me, and I had killed him, and subdued his team. Part of the contract had been to make an example of him, so I tied up my former team, and took his body. I took it to the capital city of Faix, where the King himself resided. I carved Draygun's insignia, a Furious looking Dragon rearing on it's hind legs and breathing fire, into his chest, and strung him up in front of the Northern gate. I had then returned to the rest of the team with a squadron of Draygun's soldiers and arrested them.

"The traitor got what was coming to him, it's a pity I can only kill him once." I said standing up. Draygun turned to study me. Most of my face was hidden by the shadow cast by the cowl of my Cloak; the only thing one could see of my face was my mouth and my small scraggly beard, that was interrupted on the left side of my face by a scar that receded up into the shadows. I wore a simple leather jerkin, complete with leather pants. My cloak was designed to wrap around me completely when I stood, hiding the assortment of blades and weapons I wore strapped to my body. A few were plainly visible if I were to remove the cloak, but most here hidden in specially designed folds in my Jerkin and trousers. I, of course, had other, less conspicuous outfits, but this was my stealth outfitting. It was all dyed black, with a few dark red sashes here and there to help break up my form when I hid in the shadows. Red was actually almost as effective as black when it came to melding with shadows. Well, the dark red I was wearing anyway. Brighter reds do tend to stand out.