Lingering Shadows

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This beginning could not wait.
For my readers, who are worth the hours...






The poisoned blade of assassin steel twirled between gloved fingers.

A cloaked figure in deep red and black slouched in a central chair. Waiting and watching. Their numbers had increased once more. As Vayleron had begun its valuable export of iron ore to the scorched land it had brought in riches both in item and labour. Hungry eyes wanted a cut of the purse but none of the skill set to do so.

The guild of Assassins held a specialised skillset in Vayleron. The true keepers of power when the political heads needed to be rebalanced... or decapitated.

The guild need not demand respect, they were known for their lethality and efficiency. The ones who were ignorant or arrogant enough to attempt to compete were silenced. Only a handful have ever contended and lived to this day. A handful that had shaken the very core of the guild throughout the city. The ones that had made a mockery of the Master himself before bringing him to an end leagues from the keep. Some say that it was witchcraft that day. That the Three Lions had armed themselves with a twisted and dark power. Some tell that men fell into heaps of ash before their hand. That there was nothing human inside the ones that waged a war against the guild. The day would soon come to right such an unholy act. To cleanse the realm of the dark magic. Under the command of the Assassins newest Master the reckoning would be hastened.

The oak doors on the far end of the stone hall swung open. It made the flamed torches flicker in the air. Long boots strode down the plush maroon carpet and a man pulled back his assassin's cloak to reveal a pale pair of blue eyes with an old red scar marring half his cheek. He was one such man that told of dark tales. Of power not from this realm that scorched across his face and combusted men to dust completely.

A set of daggers sat on either side of his hips and a number of other concealed blades lay out of sight.

"Guild Master." His low voice uttered as he dropped to a knee. His long black hair tumbled past his cheek as he did so.

"You bring me something of use?" The Master said quietly.

"I do. The traders escorting the Three Lions to Zanos returned to Vayleron's port last sundown. We have the Captain." He informed the hooded figure as he returned to his feet.

"What of the Odians?"

"Gossip spread that a wreckage was seen leagues South of the Uccel––"

"I do not have the luxury of indulging gossip, Artemis. What did you get out of the Captain?"

"We... It took a moment to sober him." Artemis responded with a frown. He swiftly switched his weight onto his other leg. "When he was lucid we discovered the Lions fled the trader's ship as soon as they docked in Zanos ten spans ago. From there the Odians pursued but it was the last contact they had with them."

"How is it that the Odians were then found in a wreckage leagues off of our shoreline?" The master asked with lethal calm.

Artemis paled now and racked his brain to avoid the scrutiny.

But the Master simply raised a black gloved hand. Then stood and dropped back the heavy hood. Hair was held high in an intricate formation of dark red braids, meeting at the middle and flowing down past her shoulders in waves. She descended the stone steps slowly and a few of her personal guard tensed in anticipation.

Artemis however, froze in place.

As she neared he dipped his head. She moved forward and placed a hand on the side of his face. He dared not flinch.

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