My Rogue Lord

Prologue

Prologue

    The smell of salt water assaulted his senses. He despised the smell, the taste which lingered upon his tongue hours later. The sound of waves as they crashed against the ship could be heard by those who bothered to listen. A silver of the moon shone on this murky night. It was almost completely dark.  

    He would have preferred it to be darker, but he had to accept what was offered to him. Beggars could not be choosers. A pity, really.
  He watched with clear, sharp eyes, assessing his surroundings.

  It was almost time.

  His boat awaited him beside the ship, he had exactly five minutes to perform his task and disappear,  and none would be the wiser.
     He checked his clothing, he looked like one of them, they would never know.  They never knew until it was to late. A pity, really.

   The last of the guards dozed off.
Wonderful, he would begin with them. It was sad, pathetic even. The guards were meant to be vigilant, protecting the people, and yet, they were amongst the first to flee should anything happen. It seemed life had a set of rules. The cowardly shall rule, while the people with potential shall not be of the privileged, hence, they would not know their own potential.

    Stealthily, he walked towards the first guard, before he could take his next breath, the dagger had slit his throat open.

   A clean cut.

    He cleaned the blade with the dead man's tunic.
  The second guard didn't even flinch as the blade sliced his throat.

    With the two guards dead, the first floor of the ship was cleared. He walked towards the shadows, taking the crumpled piece of parchment out of his pocket.

   
      'Viper, we trust the gold has reached you. Five hundred as per your request. The remaining amount shall be given to you once the task has been completed. Remember, not a single man should survive.'

  
   Viper, as they addressed him, put the paper away. The letter did not mention women nor children. It would be used as evidence.
    He walked to the second floor, listening carefully. He did not stay alive for as long as he did by doing nothing. Slow footsteps were making themselves known. He pressed himself against the wall, the shadows engulfing him completely. The poor bloke didn't stand a chance as Viper's dagger pierced the sensitive skin of his belly.
   The man gasped as the pain assaulted him, not knowing where and how he managed to get injured. What he didn't  know was that even if he had known, it would have been useless. No amount of preparing could have saved him. His fate had been sealed the moment the letter had reached Viper's hands.

    He continued onwards, the lamps casting eerie shadows along the walls. They would not do, he had them extinguished. Discreetly, he entered cabin after cabin, his blade soundlessly ending the lives of many. There was no remorse as he worked, it was as if he did not see the deed he was performing. As if he were a mere bystander, observing everything through shrewd eyes. Even if he wanted to, unable to prevent the inevitable. Though his actions may be called unjust by many, they were done with mercy. None of the deceased were disrespected, none were toyed with before their deaths. 

   With the patience of a cat and the venom of a serpent, the occupants of the entire ship were dead with a minute to spare. He walked away without a backward glance.
 
   As his boat rode away from the ship, closer to shore, he removed his blood stained clothing, cleaned his blade of blood which had yet to dry.
   The lines of laughter  around his mouth were beginning to fade, his usually vibrant and warm eyes a dull shade of brown. Another night of killing, another night from which blood stained his hands. 
       It seemed as if life had plans of its own. Hot one minute and cold the next. With its deceit and betrayal. Putting one in situations they cared little for but had to oblige with the will of life. A puppet to others. He hated the choices he had to make, but then again, they were his choices were they not? At the end, they happened with his will, did they not? He could have chosen a different route, a different direction, but he chose not to. He chose this way of life, this killing, this bloodshed. It was his life now. He had to deal with it. He dug his grave, he must lie in it. It mattered not whether it was filled with snakes and scorpions, awaiting to feast upon his corpse.
    Never once had he thought he would choose this life, would live this life willingly. He could not return to his previous life, it brought upon too much pain, he barely remembered it as it was.
  He knew that for the lie it was. He remembered every detail clearly.
 
  He wondered, was his previous life not better than his current one?
   Night after night, he killed. Taking another's soul to survive. He was the worst of the worst. But then again, this was the only life he knew, the only way he could survive. It was either them or him. The world only smiled upon the privileged, ask him, he knew all too well.
    But then his occupation would have him killed one of these days. He was simply bidding his time, awaiting the day he would die at the hands of his own blade. Or at the hands of vengeance, which ever came first.
    Perhaps he should stop the waiting and end it now. It would save him guilt. He already felt guilty as it was, disgusted with himself for doing what he did. There was no excuse for murder.
     
     The boat had reached it's destination. He looked towards the dock. It was a quiet, cold night. The cold was stinging. He had to find a warm place for the night, but he could not stay in this city or town. He needed to travel. He couldn't let them find his trail. He had never been careless or sloppy before, he could not start now. The luxury of a warm bed would have to wait. For now he did not prefer a warm bed, but rather, he preferred life. Because he knew, he was not cowardly enough to end his own life. Only the brave lived, the cowardly took their own lives. After all, one had to be brave to live this life of betrayal and deceit, each day more cutting than the last.
    
   He left the safety of the boat, making certain to burn any items within. He only had a small bundle with him. It carried only a change of clothes. His weapons always remained on his person, hidden from view.
    He stretched, loosening his muscles. He had a long night ahead of him. If life decided to be kind, which it rarely was, he would be able to find shelter within dense trees, but the weather would have to be agreeable, else wise he would not be getting any sleep.
    Viper took a deep breath, he chose this life, he had to live with the consequences.  Circumstances did not make a person, their choices made them who they are.