𝘈𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯

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He wasn't known as the most accomplished marksman and assassin in the kingdom for no reason.

He killed anyone he was paid to. And, best of all, he always got away with it.

Very few things could be discerned about him when one looked at him: he was tall, for one, and dressed in a cloak covering most of his body and face. All that could be seen was brown skin, a clean-shaven jaw, and a thin smile beneath his hood. A bow and quiver were slung on his back, and he had two daggers sheathed on his belt. If one were observant enough, they could even see the occasional glint of throwing knives concealed in his sleeves and the inside of his cloak. Despite the darkness of his hood, he could rely on all his senses and did not solely depend on eyes to see. He had a lean build and walked with a gentle tread, his feet making no noise as they hit the ground.

He examined the castle he was going to from afar, noting everything. The amount of guards there, the build of the castle, the number of towers... everything of interest.

He knew how to get in after assessing the fortifications for only a moment, the cogs in his brain whirring and working out what he needed to do. He scaled the wall effortlessly and swiftly, pressing himself against it so no guards above would see him unless they looked directly down. When he reached the top, he knocked out at the nearest guard with his fist, then moved to become one with the darkness, gliding through like the goddess Xaedra herself. He easily found the lord's private chambers, then picked the door lock and slid in before slouching against the wall in silence.

He had been standing motionless for almost half an hour before a male entered the room. The man wore dark blue clothes and black boots polished to a shine. Seeing a stranger in his room, he startled and shouted, then reached for the sword at his side.

Assessing the man, he noted everything. His build (large), his eye colour (brown), the number of weapons on him (one sword sheathed at his side, one knife in his right sleeve, one possibly sheathed near his right shin), and the horrified way he stared at the assassin.

"Nice to meet you," he said, peeling himself off the wall. "Duke Alfano, I believe?"

"What in the name of...?" The man blinked, holding his sword at the assassin. The assassin didn't even blink, unfazed. He could kill the man before he took another step. "Who are you?"

One of six Mainland Miscreants. A loner, a murderer, a damned good killer. "Who you wanted. An assassin."

Alfano relaxed a bit. If the assassin was there to kill him, he wouldn't have stopped to converse. "I would like a name."

"I can give you one," he replied, a thin smile etching on his lips. "But it wouldn't be mine."

"I... you are the hooded assassin the rumours speak of?" Alfano seemed amazed by his own fortune. "How did you know... how did you know I wanted an assassin?"

The assassin kept silent, waiting for him to start talking business. People found silence unnerving and often filled it with all sorts of things, revealing valuable information about them and their weaknesses. It seemed pathetic that people could be so easily discomfited by his short answers and silences, but it was as if silence was a weapon that people wanted to protect against.

"I would like to hire you," Alfano said. "I need someone dead."

The assassin twirled a dagger around in his hand, the blade spinning around dangerously, but not once cutting him. Usually people asked to see his face, but Alfano did not seem to care. "Intriguing."

"The person is called Filip, and he is king of the West."

The assassin raised his eyebrows. A sly and unchivalrous move on Alfano's part, but an interesting choice. "Ah, ambitious."

"You can do it?"

"I can do anything," the assassin responded. "So long as you have money."

"I have no lack of that. I just need the king out of the way."

"I could kill Lynne if you wanted me to, as well." The assassin continued to twirl the dagger.

"She's a woman," Alfano snorted. "I can deal with her."

"I have the feeling you will regret saying that later." The assassin knew from rumours that Lynne was a fearsome thing, and he didn't hide his smirk. Idiot. "Two thousand Milates."

A high price, but Alfano did not bat an eyelid. "I'll give you two hundred now and the rest once you finish the deed. Do not let it be traced back to me."

Money was money. If Alfano didn't pay, the assassin would just kill him, too, and steal the money himself. "Deal."

In a deadly truce, the assassin and the lord shook hands.This is short but is just a quick introductory chapter to the assassin 😌

Love you all,

Shelly M x

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