Assassin's Realm - The Lost King (COMPLETED)

Chapter 3. A Maid's Tale

Raven's room was dark, lit only by the flickering flame of a single candle. The drapes on his windows were drawn closed, but the night outside flaunted a darkness so deep it wouldn't have mattered. Rain beat down echoing in lament of the cold as the wind howled in anguish, but to Raven, his home was warm and comfortable. His large quarters were bare. Little more than a bed, nightstand, and three sets of chests containing various objects of his trade decorated the abode.

Beneath Raven's downy blankets the maid lay unconscious and unaware of her surroundings. He grumbled to himself about this as he rummaged through one of the larger trunks searching for some form of smelling salts. He didn't want her to wake. But she'd suffered a blow to the head and Raven knew she shouldn't be left sleeping undisturbed for long.

As the assassin found what he'd been searching for, a chill ran up his spine. Drawing a dagger from his boot, he twisted around and cocked his head at Torrent. She was standing not far from where he crouched. Drenched with rain and streaked in blood, she was pitiful and disoriented.

"You should be resting." He sheathed the blade and stood, blocking her way to the door.

"You..." She blinked. "I thought—" She stumbled over nothing and fell.

Raven swept the girl up before her head slammed into the ground.

"I changed my mind." He plopped her back into bed, tossed blankets over her body and sat on the nightstand. "Now—" He pushed her head against the pillow. "I believe you have a story to tell."

"Story?"

Torrent's speech was slow, her face covered in confusion.

"I can't move my arms." She shivered violently. Her body was wracked with pain and her head clouded in confusion.

"Yes, you can." He insisted. "They're displaced, not irreparably damaged."

"I don't—" She glanced at her surroundings. "Where am I?" She chewed her lip; blood ran as her mind crawled, searching for answers she couldn't find. The man was familiar, but the bed, the warm glow of a crackling fire—

Raven sighed and shifted his weight. "Okay." He stood and lit a few more candles. "You talk, I'll work."

"Work?" Torrent grasped at slippery thoughts as her heart began to race. Her quickening pulse told her to be alert and afraid, but all she felt was pain.

"You need a bath." He left her side, no longer worried she'd be able to make it to the door on her own, much less down the stairs and into the catacombs.

Grabbing a length of linen, he retrieved a silk night shirt, brought his things to the washroom and set them aside. He opened a valve protruding from the wooden wall and warm water flowed from a heated cistern above his home into a porcelain tub.

Returning to the bedside, he hauled Torrent from beneath the blankets by the tatters of her shirt collar.

"Up with you." He handled the girl as though she were an unruly child, and dragged her to the bath.

"Bathe, clean your clothes, and report to me." Raven barked orders as though Torrent were a novice and wasn't in the least bit surprised when she attempted compliance.

Struggling with exhaustion, she frowned at her inability to act. Sweat beaded on her brow from the mere exertion of standing, and she visibly held back sobs of pain. Her new keeper seemed without mercy, devoid of empathy and filled with a simmering anger that needed little excuse to boil over.

"Forgive me..." Torrent fumbled with her shirt. "I..." Her hands couldn't grip and she was penitent for it.

Narrowing his eyes, Raven reached out and grasped her by the shoulders and placed her before him.