“I had been the leader of a feared army, but now I am nothing. All due to my arrogance. With a humbled but fierce spirit, I return from my defeat. Now, with a promise from a strange being I know little of, I take my first steps to regain the power I had lost so easily. I’ll have my revenge…”
~ Draven Bladenheart
Two men who looked completely opposite of each other walked down a beaten path that led to the port city of Windlebee, near the kingdom of Maeltryst.
The first of the two had little but nothing of a tattered shirt on, his tight, dark black pants were also torn in places, but at least they were mostly whole. His boots were worn but still protective and his remaining glove was barely fitted on his hand. His pupils were pure black and his skin very pale, his matted black hair only darkening his features. In fact, he looked like he had just been in a major war, and he sort of had been. His name, Draven Bladenheart, the infamous “fallen” leader of the Bladenheart Army. He held no weapons, yet he was far from defenseless. Snaking around his right arm was a black leather-like whip, a sentient weapon that had been heavily damaged in his fight with the Maeltryst nobleman, Thalys Ol’Calien in the Battle of Tier Bastion. And yet, the sentient whip had quickly recovered itself, and now it was even growing stronger than ever before. The end of it was unrolled of sorts, looking like a ribbon tip but sharpened like a blade. This piece was currently rubbing its master’s shoulder, pleading to give the order to slaughter someone, anyone. Draven kept it calm, though, and glanced at his companion as two more figures appeared out of the forest beside the path they walked.
His companion shared the glance and gave a helpless shrug. He had blazing red hair that was neatly split with two heavy bangs. His eyes were a bright golden orange color, which complimented his hair. His clothing was well kept and finely knitted, with an exception to the single tear across his chest he had received in the Battle of Tier Bastion. A most magnificent rapier rested at his hip, his prized possession. He was known as Ferlyne Gower, a fire adept from a distant fire nation and the only remaining officer of Draven’s now destroyed army.
The two figures in front of them were not quite human. Their skin was pitch black and their clothing was as well. Both stood exactly the same short height, and the only difference anyone could tell them apart was the different designs on their clothing and while one had white designs, the other had green. The most noticeable parts of these beings, however, were featureless faces. Draven and Ferlyne had rightly named them, the “faceless” for this fact.
“Remind me again why we didn’t just teleport across the ocean…” Draven said to Ferlyne, agitation clear in his voice.
“It is hard to say. Perhaps they can only teleport every so often, or maybe they can only do it in certain places or to certain places. Maybe even a combination of the two or more,” Ferlyne replied with another helpless shrug.
“If you’d think about it further, they might have used some magical item that takes time to recharge. Seeing that they only spe-write that ancient dialect, it is possible that the wind one is limited to ancient spells of transportation which have their boundaries, must follow wind direction, or even only on certain days or every so often,” Draven added, surprising Ferlyne with his quick, creative deductions.
“If you suspected such things, then why did you ask me?” Ferlyne couldn’t help asking.
“you can communicate with those things, I figured you might have learned something that I was unaware of,” Draven admitted with a stare.
“I assure you, I’m equally puzzled,” Ferlyne said, starting to speak more quietly as he noticed the faceless turning their heads to regard the talking companions as they walked ahead. When the two simply stared back curiously, the faceless turned back around.
“Guh, their eyes are so disturbing…” Draven said with obvious distaste.
Ferlyne tossed him an incredulous glare and whispered harshly, “They can hear us, don’t you know?”
“Of course I know. They know I don’t like them, and I know they don’t like me,” Draven blatantly said, almost daring the faceless to do something about his words.
Ferlyne shrank back from his admonishing words and looked away, unsure whether Draven truly wasn’t afraid of the faceless or if he was merely trying to hide his fear.
In truth, Draven hated the faceless more than Thalys, who had ruined all of his plans. There was just something about them, something strange, that always kept him feeling uneasy, and Draven hated feeling uneasy.
“I’m going to need some new weapons and clothing…” Draven suddenly declared, changing the subject.
“Well, what do you want me to do about that?” Ferlyne asked.
“You can understand them. See what they think about giving me some time to get things,” Draven suggested, throwing a hand towards the faceless ahead of them.
Ferlyne sighed as he pulled out a piece of stationary he held wrapped up in his map case and dug into a pouch on his hip to produce a pen and vial of ink. He gently tapped the void faceless on the shoulder.
The being slowly turned around and stared at Ferlyne.
“Draven needs to get some weapons and armor when we get into Windlebee. Can you give us some time to get these things before we get a boat?” Ferlyne asked.
The faceless both looked at each other with their beady pupils. Slowly, in unison, they turned to look at the two humans, their eyes glowing their usual hue of energy. With all ease, the void faceless took the paper and pen from Ferlyne and began writing in a strange language. It wrote just a little and handed the paper and pen back to the fire adept. Ferlyne read over the quick note as he put back his pen.
“…two hours to get…I think this means ‘gear’…and a passage across the water,” Ferlyne translated to Draven, examining a certain character he couldn’t quite understand.
“More than enough time,” Draven said with a wave of his hand.
The faceless heard these words and looked at each other again. Without any sign, they turned around and started walking again.
By the time the group had reached the city of Windlebee, the two faceless had once again slipped out of sight for no good reason, leaving Draven and Ferlyne to seek out some much needed equipment. The two easily picked out a shop with rather powerful looking artifacts displayed about a massive tent-like room and a round headed merchant with a massive turban.
“Ah, hello! Welcome to my shop. We have much goods, yes,” the man said, bobbing his head up excitedly. His demeanor quickly faded as he sensed the hardly amused feelings coming from Draven. Ferlyne, however, seemed a much more promising buy.
“Sir, you seem interested in my goods, yes?” the merchant prodded with his hands clasped together.
Ferlyne looked at the man with a crooked grin, unsure what to think of the eager merchant. At first he held his hands up close to his face and pushed out as if warding the pestering man away. Seeing that his tactics would do little good, he put his hands down and waved an arm towards Draven, who was currently inspecting nearby armor.
“My friend here could use some new armor and weaponry. Perhaps you could assist him…just don’t be too touchy, for he’s rather irritable,” Ferlyne explained, stepping aside for the merchant to speed over to Draven.
“Your friend said you seek armor, yes? What sort of armor are you looking for?” the merchant asked with a wide grin.
Draven looked up at the merchant, then to Ferlyne with a scowl, and back at the merchant with a half-hearted smile.
“Do you have anything…light and in black,” Draven asked slowly.
The merchant’s eyes lighted up with glee as he clapped his hands and scurried off to a nearby rack of cloaks and chain shirts. He sped through the cloth with one hand, the other pressed against his pursed lips. Finally he came across the item he sought and quickly presented it to Draven.
The armor was a black cloth-like material with a wide and high neck covering and no sleeves. Upon further inspection, however, Draven noted that it had a gleaming black chain shirt etched into the cloth, producing two short sleeves and a tad bit of hangover in the bottom.
The merchant urged Draven to try the piece on, which the void adept did without haste. The suit was a little big on his lean form at first, but given a few seconds and the suit instantly refitted itself to Draven’s frame, creating a snug fit that any would be satisfied with.
“Magical armor…shape to you good, yes! Fortified to resist light and dark energy better,” the merchant informed, moving around to see how the cloth set on Draven. “Only 9,000 gold pieces, a steal on your part.”
Draven glanced at Ferlyne, who gave a knowing wink and held back a smirk.
“I’ll take it, but I still need to find some weapons. Don’t tell me the total until I’ve found everything I need, ok?” Draven replied to the merchant, speaking clearly to make sure the man understood him.
As expected, the merchant bobbed his head up and down eagerly and hurried towards the second half of the tent, biding the two to follow him.
When they came into the second half of the store they were assaulted by many shining and gleaming weapons of all sorts. None seemed to impress Ferlyne, who was much content with his powerful rapier.
“What you desire? Sword, bow, or maybe axe, yes?” the merchant went on, presenting several different weapons as he scooted along.
“Two knives,” Draven explain, holding up his hand as if holding two curved daggers. “The best you’ve got.”
This of course caused the merchant to wiggle with joy, his eyes sparkling with the possibilities. He motioned them towards a particular table and waved his hand over the lines of daggers and other short hand weapons. With a snap of a finger, he reached down and picked up a black dagger with a raven head on the pommel, the wrist guards looking much like the wings of a bird. The blade of the dagger was curved and designed like a thick, black feather.
Draven picked up the weapons and tested the fell of it. Satisfied, he nodded his head in approval. As he did so, the red eyes on the raven head seemed to light up slightly. Surprised, Draven looked up at the merchant for answers.
“That be known as the Raventip, said to be crafted from a strange metal that is supposedly invincible,” the merchant said with a beaming smile, already reaching for a second dagger.
His chubby fingers wrapped around a strange looking dagger with a blade shaped similar to Raventip’s. A hooked gem crested the pommel of the dagger and the hilt had a smooth, almost liquid feel to it. The wrist guard consisted of a large round center and two zigzagging wings. The round center had several lines leading to the center, which constantly glowed a light gold. The merchant handed the dagger to Draven and motioned for him to look through the glowing point.
Skeptical at first, Draven looked over the entire dagger and slowly raised the blade to his eye. To his surprise, he could see through the glowing point, everything within seeming fuzzy but concentrated on certain bright objects. A quizzical stare of Draven made the merchant explain further.
“Sunlock be its name. The spot in the center can glow a minuscule amount or projected a dome of light if you bade it. When you look inside the ‘lock’ it lets you have better focus on distant objects with a thought of mind! No doubt one of my most prized dagger,” the merchant piped in with a chuckle.
Draven hardly shared the laugh, but Ferlyne seemed rather amused by the merchant’s oddness.
“Be that all for you?” the merchant was eager to ask without shame.
“Yes…how much are you asking for these?” Draven asked, slightly raising his right eyebrow so that only the keen eyes of Ferlyne could catch the movement.
“Ah, well I ask a meager 120,000 gold from you for su-” the merchant began to say with a grin, rubbing his chubby hands together as he spoke.
His words were quickly interrupted by a shout of shock as Draven’s whip snapped up to life, smacking the merchant under the chin, sending him toppling to the ground.
“Leave it on my…tab,” Draven said with a smirk as he and Ferlyne turned around to leave.
Hardly willing to accept such an end to business, the merchant leaped up with amazing grace, a large dagger slipping into his hand from the folds of his cloak. He leaped toward Draven’s back with his eyes closed. When his momentum was suddenly halted, he opened his eyes, expecting to see his dagger deep in the void adept’s back. What he saw, however, sent shivers up his spine. The whip held his dagger in place, wrapped around its tip.
“That was a fatal mistake on your part…I was going to let you live, but after that little move I might reconsider,” Draven said slowly, death tones ringing from his words.
The merchant’s eyes widened in fear, but he hardly had time to shutter, for the sentient whip pulled him to the left and then flung him to the right with a swift tug, disarming the merchant. Good on his part, the merchant managed to stabilize himself from the toss. Bad for him, however, was Draven’s faster movement. Around came the void adept with both his newly “purchased” knives flashing out. Raventip in his left hand plunged deep in the merchant’s gut as the ribbon-tipped whip snapped around to slash a ghastly blow across the man’s left cheek and eye. In came Sunlock, plunging beside its new sister blade. Draven twisted both knives and jerked them out without mercy.
Giving a weak cry of pain, the merchant crippled to the ground, grasping at his torn stomach with one hand, the other reaching up to cover his ravaged eye. His breathing quickened, becoming a hysterical pant.
The sentient whip, hardly satisfied, wrapped around the merchant’s hand that clutched at his stomach, pulling it up in front of his face only to tighten around it, crushing every fragment of his hand. The merchant howled in pain. Up came the whip, dropping the destroyed hand, to dig into the merchant’s mouth and out of the back of his neck.
Draven sent a command to the whip to sedate it. Cringing from the response, the whip made a final strike, wrapping itself around the spine of the merchant as Draven jerked it free, pulling out with it part of his spinal cord.
Ferlyne turned his head and gagged. “Ugh, what a mess! You could have done that a little cleaner…”
“Perhaps…but it’s been a long time since my whip has enjoyed itself so well. I figured I’d let it have some fun,” Draven countered with a helpless laugh as he turned and began to walk away.
“What should we do with him?” Ferlyne asked, gently stepping around the mess of the merchant.
“I don’t care. Take what you want from the store and let’s be gone. We still have a boat to find,” Draven responded with a shrug.
“Well, perhaps we should grab a few things to sell for ourselves?” Ferlyne suggested.
“No, with the money we saved here we shouldn’t need any more gold,” Draven said, trying to sound like the kooky merchant.
Ferlyne rubbed his chin and smiled. “Well, if that be the case, then let us be on our way.”
**********
Voyse slipped back into his guild after receiving information from the spy in Benafoli about the “informant” that had offered information on the second artifact known as the Gauntlet of Elders. By this time, he had already acquired a new mask to replace his old magical one. Though his new mask held no magical properties, the porcelain doll face gave him an eerie look that made many turn away in fear of his presence. The eyes of the mask had been cut out to let his dark eyes see all, only accentuating the creepy demeanor of the assassin. Of course to Voyse…this was only a benefit.
He came across the auburn haired woman with the morningstar again. Brigid by name, she had a completely new light on the man she had originally scoffed at from his presence, knowing now that he was indeed the legendary Voyse En’Dir for whom she joined the guild for. In fact, she tried very hard to get close to Voyse, but all of her attempts were always shoved back in her face by the blunt and heartless remarks of the assassin, who had little time for flirt games.
“I like…the mask,” Brigid said, obviously lying behind her smile.
“Lovely…I was actually going for the ‘hate’ feelings, but whatever floats your boat,” Voyse said with a smirk, quickly stepping past the woman and up the steps.
The assassin’s thoughts were racing with all the possibilities of this new artifact that had presented itself to him. A plan had already formed in his mind long before he reached the guild tower. After several messages sent to the “informant” via magical purposes, the two had decided that combining their forces would be best. So, Voyse would move his entire guild across the Mala Ocean to meet with the “informant” who turned out to be the leader of a band of powerful rogues and swords for hire. Though he still didn’t know the name of this connection, the leader obviously already knew of the assassin’s identity. How they did, he could hardly care.
As Voyse pondered on these thoughts, he came across Roik, who was actually looking for his leader. The man threw his arms in the air in victory.
“There you are! Sir, I’ve gotten word that we’ve lost a-” Roik began to explain, shuffling through some papers nervously.
“Don’t worry about it. I want the entire guild ready to leave by tomorrow. What we can’t take with us on caravan and boat, sell it for whatever you can get on the market. We’re moving to a new headquarters in Benafoli. Everyone is going, no excuses,” Voyse interrupted him and walked away.
“But sir I-” Roik replied.
“Make the arrangements yourself. I’ll be planning some other matters,” Voyse clarified.
“Yes but where are we heading?” Roik asked.
“Leeando would be a good place. We’ll set sail from there,” Voyse said with a shrug and again walked away. Before Roik could respond again, Voyse was long gone.
As the assassin sped up the corridors to his office, he came across a rounded room that was placed among the stairs. Familiarity struck Voyse as he looked upon the room. He knew well most of the rooms of his guild, but this one brought back a particular memory. This room was the same room that Voyse had his first encounter with Draven Bladenheart, and the first but last time he tapped into the power of the Adept’s Stone before the void adept stole it. And yet, here he was, standing in the same room with the Adept’s Stone once again.
Something was different about the room now, though. The wall that Voyse had destroyed during the fight had been replaced, with a wide window taking up most of the space now.
Merely on a whim, Voyse slipped out of the window, fell into the shadows along the wall, and softly dropped to the ground below. He examined the alley he was in, remembering every step he took that time long ago. He traveled down a bit to the spot where Draven had tripped him out of the shadows in their duel. His memory on the fight quickly became a blur, though, and he knew from experience that he must have drawn Devil’s Sin by this point and fell into the fury that consumed him every time he drew the cursed blade.
Shifting away the bad memory, he silently sat down against the wall where he had lost consciousness. Just as he thought of this, a glimpse of memory came to him. It was the last few seconds of the fight as Devil’s Sin fell from his grasp. He saw plainly Draven’s dagger dig into his shoulder and pull at his life force. Voyse knew quite well that if his will hadn’t been weakened by Devil’s Sin that he could have resisted the dagger.
Cursing at his misfortune, Voyse opened his eyes and let his thoughts drift away. A drop of rain tapped the side of his mask, cresting the left eye hole as it slid on down. The assassin looked straight up to watch the rain begin to harden. Just then, Voyse felt a warmth on his hip. He reached down to feel the magical pendant that contained a “dead zone” in it. But why was it heating up? He looked around only to see a figure at the end of the alley.
A young girl stood barefoot at the edge of the alley, staring at Voyse with a lifeless glare. Her hair seemed to float with power, folding around her frame to give a daunting appearance. When Voyse blinked his eyes in confusion, his new image of the girl seemed more reasonable. The girl’s hair was long, black, and unkept. What Voyse suspected to be ash covered her entire body, giving a grayish hue to her skin. Her dress was pure black, smoldering in places for some reason. It appeared to Voyse that the girl had recently been in a fire of sorts. But how did she survive? And why was her skin unharmed? Most importantly…why was she here?
Voyse stood up and approached the girl, moving into the shadows whenever they crossed over him. The pendant on his belt slowly grew warmer as he drew near. Soon he could feel the precious pendant vibrating.
The girl kept her eyes on the assassin the entire time, even when he slipped into the shadows with his magic, as if it didn’t matter.
Instinctively, Voyse’s hand gripped on the hilt of Devil’s Sin, but he pulled away his hand and rested it on the pommel of his scimitar instead. As Voyse came ever nearer, the “dead zone” pendant vibrated harder and heated up more rapidly.
He stepped near to the girl and inspected her further. Her skin was a grayish tone naturally, for if it were covered with ash, then the rain would have washed it away. Voyse regarded the girl’s eyes and widened his own in disbelief. The girl’s eyes shared the same appearance as his pendant! Her eyes were a light gray, the negative tones being pitch black as the positives were pure white. Small, floating dots floated about in her eyes, just as they did when he activated the dead zone.
“By the gods…” Voyse muttered, unable to find words to such an enigma. It took the assassin a moment to pull his thoughts together.
Flashes of slaughter and chaos filled his mind, all of it being swept away in an instant and then returning. Voyse looked down, expecting to see his hand on Devil’s Sin, but instead it was wrapped around the pendant. Smoke wisped off his glove as the heat accelerated. He panicked and pulled away from the pendant, ignoring the burning feeling in his hand. Why did he panic? Voyse gritted his teeth, growling away the pain and fear. Once again his eyes fell over the girl.
“What is your name, child?” Voyse asked, regaining his composure slowly.
“…Amelia,” the girl replied in a shadowed whisper.
“Amelia you say? Do you understand your eyes?” Voyse asked.
The girl looked at him with those sparkling eyes, acting as if she knew not what he was asking.
In response, Voyse sent several orbs of dark energy swarming at Amelia from the ground. Each orb slammed into Amelia and instantly disappeared at the touch of her skin. No sign of magic remained. The magic had not dwindled away or dissipated, it just…disappeared. The same effect as that of a “dead zone”, where all magic was canceled.
Throughout it all, Amelia never flinched, never showed a sign of care. Understanding the assassin’s question now, she lowered her head silently.
“You are a walking dead zone…how?” Voyse asked, truly baffled.
When the girl did not respond, Voyse began to feel a mix of feelings wash over him. He placed a hand on his head in fear, for he knew not what was happening. He found himself caught between snapping out a dagger to slay the girl and drawing her into his embrace. It came to his attention that he had a dreary sickness, and that sickness was starting to show. Due to the use of Devil’s Sin for so long, he had weakened his resolved, lost bits of his sanity, and when a situation involving emotions came about, blinks of insanity began to fall over him.
Before he could think things through, out came the dagger as his weakened sanity drifted aside. The blade came inches from Amelia’s neck before it halted, Voyse’s will striking back, fighting against his sickened mind.
For once, Amelia showed her fear to the assassin, cowering back from the dagger. This only fueled his bloodlust. Voyse’s eyes widened eagerly and a chuckle escaped his lips.
“So, you’re no juggernaut. The edge can still draw your blood,” the assassin reasoned. Amelia’s eyes began to shake in fear and she turned to run away. Voyse’s will returned then, finally pushing away the scars from Devil’s Sin.
Voyse snapped his and that was still smoldering, his other hand dropping the dagger limply, and caught Amelia before she fled. When the girl turned around to find some explanation, she saw a peculiar sight. The assassin’s mask was lowered, darkened by the shadows, his grasp on her arm weakening.
“Don’t go…” Voyse responded, pleading almost as he looked up at her. “I mean you no harm.” He lifted his hand away and looked at it. The glove was no longer smoldering, the magical burn completely gone from the touch of the girl.
“Who…are you…?” Amelia asked finally, breaking the silence.
“Voyse…my name is…Voyse En’Dir,” the assassin said, resolve slowly returning to his voice.
“I should find a place to stay for the night before this rain chills me to death…sorry for intruding on your alley, Mr. En’Dir,” Amelia apologized, already moving to walk away.
“I…have a proposition to make,” Voyse halted the girl with his words, not even sure what he had in mind was his sanity speaking or another unknown whim.
“…what?” Amelia asked innocently, not understanding the man.
“What if I were to tell you that I can offer you food, warm clothing, and protection?” Voyse said, standing straight up as he decided that his choice was well enough.
“And what would I have to do for you?” Amelia asked, sounding keenly smart suddenly.
“Allow me to teach you…become my pupil and work for me,” Voyse explained, finally calming down from his mind battle. “I’ll show you places and people few have ever seen.”
“…what would you teach me that others would not be better for?” the girl asked, promises of food and clothing sounding temping in her ears.
“To use your…special gift, of course,” Voyse clarified.
Amelia looked around and then at Voyse. Slowly, cautiously, she took his hand.
Voyse looked at her hand as he scooped up his dagger with his free hand. Slowly, he led her back to the guild entrance.
The assassin and girl moved past the questioning and confused stares of many guild members as the assassin made his way to one specific person.
Brigid stood leaning against a wall doing her usual guarding. At the sight of her guild master appearing once again, she instantly stood straight and grinned. Her grin was quickly replaced with a questioning glare as she regarded the child clutching to Voyse’s hand.
“Don’t tell me you just pick up random strays…” Brigid complained, seemingly disgusted by the girl. “And certainly a weird stray, at that.”
“Her name is Amelia. I want you to give her a bath, find her something to wear, and then give her some food,” Voyse informed, his stern glare falling over Brigid.
“…why do I hav-” Brigid began to complain, but coughed and fixed on a smile. “As you wish, master.”
“If I find out that she is harmed in any way, you shall pay the consequences. No one is to go near her except you and I, hear that? Once she has had something to eat, send her to my office immediately,” Voyse continued, his free hand reaching for a dagger in his cloak to emphasize the warning.
Brigid straightened her skirt and nodded her head. “But of course, I’ll make a pretty little girl out of this one,” she said with a mocking tone.
Voyse turned to Amelia and explained to her what was going on. The girl nodded her head and slowly let go of Voyse’s hand, replacing it with Brigid’s instead.
“…not a hair harmed…you hear?” Voyse warned once again, slipping away.
Once again as the assassin made his way to his office he ran into Roik, who seemed more worried than before.
“What is it this time…make it quick,” Voyse intercepted before the man could begin his complaints.
“The guild members are questioning your orders, sir. They don’t understand why we should give up everything we’ve gained here on a whim. I’m getting much grief from them,” Roik explained.
“Tell those who are dissatisfied with my decision to meet me in my office to have a ‘talk’…” Voyse said casually, emphasizing the word “talk” to show he meant much differently.
Roik chuckled, expecting as much from his master, nodded, and hurried off.
By the time Voyse finally made it to his office, he slumped in one of the many chairs within the room, his hands slowly rising to remove his mask. He rubbed his weary eyes and concentrated on what had happened in the alley when he met the girl. Why were all of these emotions coming to him? Why did he do what he did? Several questions assaulted him, and yet he could find no answer for any of them. He finally concluded that Devil’s Sin was responsible for his swirling thoughts. Growling in frustration, he closed his eyes and pushed all his thoughts away.
The assassin was suddenly awoken from his unsuspected slumber by a rapping at his doors. He leaped from his seat, quickly grabbing his mask and returning it to his face. Voyse threw open the doors, an agitated look in his eyes. That look quickly left him as he stared in awe at what greeted him.
Amelia and Brigid stood at the door, a smug smile on the woman’s face as she presented her work before her master.
The girl was garbed in tight fitting leather armor that spilled out into a long gown-like skirt at the waist, which was covered by a heavy belt. A cloak with a furred collar rest on Amelia’s shoulders, which had small padded shoulders. Her left arm had a leather sleeve that ended at the elbow, with a small black glove covering her hand. The right arm had no sleeve, but a long glove that covered all the forearm and elbow, but the hand part had been cut away, giving it a sleeve-like appearance. Leather boots were visible below the knee-long skirt. Most changed, however, was Amelia’s hair, which had been cut short, with her bangs angled to the left, the back spiking outward.
Voyse couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, unable to believe the change Brigid had achieved for the girl.
“What do you find so amusing, master?” Brigid asked.
“I am but amused at your handiwork,” Voyse explained. “But of course, the main question is this: Are you satisfied, Amelia?”
Amelia smiled for the first time ever, nodding her head as she did so, “I really like the hair…it’s pretty.”
If Voyse hadn’t been wearing his mask, the two females would have seen a warm smile crack on the assassin’s cold face. “Thank you, Brigid, that’ll be all I need of you for now,” Voyse informed casually offering the woman her leave.
Though aggravated by this, Brigid only huffed and stormed away. Voyse let the doors close behind him as he approached his desk.
Amelia stood where she was, unsure what to do. As Voyse took a seat behind his desk, he waved the girl to take a seat nearby. She did just that.
“How old are you, Amelia?” Voyse suddenly asked, staring directly at the girl with his hands crossed over his face.
“…twelve I think. I never really kept count,” Amelia admitted.
“I see…and how long have you been without your parents?” the assassin asked.
“I…don’t know. I never really knew my parents. I’ve always just wandered around,” the girl replied.
“This ‘talent’ of yours, how long have you had it? And how long have you known what it does?” Voyse asked, leaning back in his chair comfortably.
“Since forever…” Amelia answered casually.
“Good, good,” Voyse said while he nodded his head. “Well, now that I’ve learned a little about you, how about I show you something about myself?”
The girl nodded in curiosity.
In an instant, Voyse flipped up from his leaned back position and slipped off his mask, giving the girl a perfect view of his scarred face.
Amelia flinched from the look, but quickly recovered from her surprise. Her curious look returned as she reached out to touch one of the many scars on Voyse’s face.
The assassin moved back before the girl got near him, slowly putting the mask back on. “That’s the result of complete and utter determination…so much so that you’re willing for self sacrifice.”
These words didn’t seem to term well with Amelia, who felt her own face in horror, not wanting any scars at all. “I…don’t want to be like that.”
“Good, because nor do I,” Voyse agreed matter-of-factly. “The last thing I need is another Voyse running around with the ability to be fully immune to magical attacks. You, Amelia, are a rare case indeed. There have never been records of a dead zone being held within a living being. Most believe it’d eat away their soul. And yet…here you are, living very much so. I’m going to figure out how and why…and you’re going to learn to unlock whatever other abilities you may possess.”
Amelia absorbed all this with a continuous nod. She shifted in her seat a little, uncomfortable talking about her “talent”.
Voyse pulled out a casual dagger from a drawer in his desk and tossed it to Amelia gently. The girl hesitated, but caught the blade clumsily. “Ever use one?”
A shake of the girl’s head had Voyse grumbling. He pulled out a hand crossbow from the same drawer and slid it across the desk. Amelia picked it up and gave him a confused look.
“They’re weapons…keep them on that belt of yours,” Voyse explained impatiently.
“You mean like this mace Brigid gave me?” Amelia asked, lifting up a light mace from the loop on her belt.
Voyse looked at the bludgeoning weapon and smirked. “But of course…I’m sure you can swing a mace, yes?”
Amelia nodded, putting it back on her belt loop. Voyse watched as the girl placed the knife and hand crossbow on her belt as if they were toys or decoration.
“If you ever run into trouble and no one can get to you, do not be afraid to use those,” Voyse informed grimly.
Amelia nodded, throwing an arm up and she began to yawn.
“I’m sure you are tired…sorry to say, but I have no bed in here. That chair is all you’ve got to sleep on,” the assassin said casually.
That hardly seemed to stop the girl, who curled up in her cloak and fell asleep almost instantly. Voyse, unfamiliar to the situation, stood up and walked around his office. After awhile, he slumped down on the ground next to the chair where the resting girl lay.
**********
When Voyse awoke the next morning, he instantly looked up to see the girl still sound asleep. He raised up from his spot and looked about the room. He hadn’t noticed it the night before, but the walls were naked of all their magical items.
Wasting little time, Voyse awoke Amelia and hurried the sleepy girl out of his office and into the halls below. He found Roik on the bottom level, seeing to the final exporting.
“Ah, sir, you’re just in time. The caravans await outside. Of course, we’re in no concern for the other guilds taking a chance on us at this hour of the day…” Roik said with a greeting nod.
“But of course…when will be departing?” Voyse asked.
“As soon as the last of the guild is ready,” Roik responded. He stopped and stared at Amelia in surprise. He threw a quizzical glance at Voyse, who glared at him.
“This is Amelia. She is my pupil, and eventually will be our ‘secret weapon’. She’ll be riding with me at all times,” Voyse introduced, throwing in a warning tone as he did so.
“Ah, I see. Then the two of you will be riding in the front with Brigid and myself,” Roik said, trying his best to ignore the grayish-white skinned girl.
“Very well…” Voyse replied, obvious disgust in his voice as he slipped out of the guild building for the last time.
Only an hour later, the entire En’Dir Guild moved out of Pavenole in the southeastern direction towards the desert city of Leeando. The caravan chain attracted many curious eyes, but none were brave enough to question it. Voyse and Amelia both sat in the back of the lead caravan, Brigid and Roik in the front controlling the horses.
Though Voyse wasn’t paying attention, Amelia kept her eyes on him the entire time, that same, shimmering stare that had caught the assassin’s curiosity.
