Grace
Book One, Part One
A rogue's diary is supposed to remain blank. Lifeless. Without a single dash or scribble to recount a glimpse of an assassin's life.
Maybe it's for confidentiality. Maybe for the rogue's own safety. Or, maybe a rogue's life is just too short yet complicated to possibly transfer to simple words. For whatever reason, a rogue's diary is supposed to remain blank.
This is not one of those diaries.
It won't be completely accurate. A few details have escaped me in certain times of distress. I remember details others may find petty, and I've forgotten the most cherished of advice and knowledge.
But more importantly, I've learned to live my life as a rogue. I've taught myself much, and I've learned more from others. This is my narration of that journey. I'm not out to prove anything. I'm writing simply to share my story.
Book One, Part One
I wasn't always expected to be a rogue. The first several years of my life were spent somewhat peacefully just outside of Stormwind.
At some point I had a complete family and friends, and most of them have influenced who I am today. My father was a soldier of Stormwind, and an unmoving defender of the Alliance and its morals.
Mother was only a farmer's daughter, but somehow my parents found each other and ultimately found love. Three years after their marriage a baby boy, Lucas, was born. Only two years after my brother did I arrive.
I was named Grace.
My most monumental childhood memory I could recall was at three years old. Father was away, defending a faraway alliance fort that required serious aid. I remember my mother at the door with a man shrouded in gray and blue. Then my mother collapsed, sobbing at the doorway. My small form tried to crawl to her, but Lucas had me by the dress. I must have thought Mommy was hurt, or maybe it was an infant instinct, because I started crying. Mother heard my alarm and was instantly at her children's sides, giving us both a desperate hug. "It's okay," she hushed us through her own tears. I can look back now and realize she wasn't merely soothing us—she was trying to convince herself as well.
I never saw my father again. Only six months later did my mother give birth to another baby boy. He was named Matthew, after my father.
It's a funny concept. If I concentrate really hard, I sometimes see glimpses of my father's face. What pains me to this day is the knowledge that my little brother was never given the chance to see his face or feel the strength of his arms.
I blame them. All of them. The dark scourge that tore through the land my father fought to defend. They tortured our people. Ruined thousands of lives in one deft attack.
Mother took complete charge of the family. When I was younger I thought my mother really had no choice in the matter. Now I see that she had choices. To remain passive or act. To feed herself or to feed her children. To merely let us live or to let us lead meaningful lives. From what I can recall, my mother never stopped. Never quit. She was always looking for ways to please the three of us, and she grew a few premature lines in her skin because of it—but it only made her smile livelier.
What I do remember and miss most were her stories of father. Of bravery and spirit, and of his unfettered willingness to place himself on the front line of defense.
It's likely that my mother glorified his image a bit, but I'm almost certain that it was unintentional. My mother loved my father, and she saw him as perfect.
When we were smaller, the stories were ways of connecting us to father while keeping us mildly entertained. As we grew, the stories did much more. The stories of valor and strength remained, but even I became aware that there was a much bigger story than my father sacrificing his life.
I was sixteen when things began to shift. I was a confused child, torn between what I felt was my duty and what was perceived as my duty.
The only visitors we received at the time consisted of one. A lifelong friend of Lucas and I, named Dennis.
He has become a part of me. He shaped my life, my choices, my personality in ways I could never explain to him. My brother Lucas and he were close friends, but they complimented each other. My brother was more of a jokester, whereas Dennis would emit a calmer, laid back attitude. Both, however, were passionate. And they both shared a love for our home and soldiers.
The pair often discussed joining the ranks as warriors. Normally I would remain with the two, putting in my few words here and there. I admired both of them strongly.
I giggle as I write this, for I remember moments with Dennis that are irreplaceable. How he always jested that he and I would marry and live happily ever after—after he became a renowned hero of Stormwind, of course. We were very close. Lucas, Dennis, and I were constantly together.
Dennis enlisted the day he turned eighteen, and he was training in Stormwind when an out-of-place knock alerted my family of a guest. Normally we kept to ourselves, save for Dennis' company—and even he didn't knock. I was lucky enough to answer the staccato. The door creaked on account of old age, and my eyes gazed at a familiar blue and gray uniform. It brought me back to my toddler memory, where my mother learned the news that changed our family forever.
His shoulders were broad, hands clasped behind his back in an attempt at softening his intimidating look. He was battle-worn, alright—but he carried himself with pride.
"Hello there, young lady." Even his voice echoed experience. "I'm here on important issues. Are your parents home?"
Mother as instantly at the door, her face pale. Despite her efforts to remain composed, I was close enough to see her bottom lip quiver. "Can I help you?" It was nearly a whisper.
"I'm here to discuss your son's future."
The rest I did not overhear. I was sent outside with Matthew, and after Lucas begged to be a part of the conversation (since it was him the officer wished to speak of), mother sent him outside as well.
Lucas sat on the ground, resting his chin on his knees. Despite his childish position, my brother gazed with maturity. We didn't speak. Matthew kicked around a stray rock while I watched from beneath our apple tree next to my oldest brother.
Mumbling could be heard through the cottage walls. "I don't have to hear to know what she's saying," Lucas stated.
I knew too, but the look in Lucas' eyes stopped me from mentioning so.
"It doesn't matter," Lucas mumbled as his fingers toyed with a nearby leaf. "It doesn't matter what she tells that recruiter. It's my choice."
"What more do you want from me?" My mother's voice cut through indiscernible hums of conversation. It caused me to straighten my back in unease, and even Matthew halted his sport to glance at the origin of the sound.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Lucas' fingers crushed his leaf with a quick but lethal flex. "I'm going to enlist."
I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until I released it in exhaustion. "Lucas," I began, lowering my gaze. "Joining the Stormwind guard will not bring father back."
"Don't lecture me, Grace. Not when you have the same desire."
My hands gripped the hem of my dress. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know as well as I do who is responsible for our father's death."
"So what, you're going to join the Alliance ranks and kill every one of those monsters on sight?"
"I'm going to do what I can in this war."
"Mother doesn't want you going. She's already lost her husband…"
"If it wasn't for mother, you would do the same!" Lucas hissed.
My throat tightened. I opened my lips to speak, but nothing but nonsense squeaks erupted. "I'm a female. Mother wouldn't approve, and even if I managed to join…I'd be no help."
"Nonsense," Lucas snapped. My head snapped right, eyes glaring at my elder brother. With vigor I was going to tell him that he was pushing his luck and that I wasn't going to put up with his rubbish—but his eyes stopped me. Lucas watched me intently, his body still seemingly relaxed, when he leaned in closer to me. His eyes never left mine. "I'm your brother. I know you better than you think I do. I hear you crying at night sometimes." Even as he whispered to me, moisture pricked beneath my eyes. "You're upset over Father's death, too. But the question is," he wet his lips, hand resting on my knee, "Are you upset enough to simply cry, or angry enough to do something about it?"
I tried not to blink, because if I was to do so, tears would escape. Motionless, I watched as mother and the guard arrived outside. Her face was still solid, the guard looking defeated but still carrying himself regally.
"Children," she called, arms hugging herself. Brushing the dirt out of my skirt, I moved inside, meanwhile attempting to hide red eyes from my mother.
When everyone was inside and the soldier had left, mother could finally stop shaking. "This is our family," she announced. "I will not lose any children to this war. This family has lost enough already."
I was sure Lucas would say something, but he was silent as mother paced to the kitchen to set the tale.
Worry crept into my bones when dinner came around. Intensity filled the room so much I thought the dishware would crumble under pressure. It didn't take long. I was two spoonfuls into my soup when Lucas' own spoon clanked loudly onto the table. "Mother, I think we need to talk about it."
"There's nothing to discuss," my mother stated, her own spoon hovering above the bowl.
"How can you say that?" Lucas asked, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You never asked for my opinion, my hopes—you wouldn't even look at me!"
"Lucas Fulstorm." My mother's aura darkened, almost making me shrink in my chair. "Stop being a selfish child, and thing about this family's needs."
"Why can't you listen for once?" my brother snapped. "I want to enlist. I want to fight for the Alliance."
"Your mother said no. If you'd pause you'd understand why-"
"Why I can't make my own decisions?" Lucas cut in. "I'm an adult now. I don't need to listen to you!" For effect my brother's fist slammed into the table, causing our bowls to rattle.
My attempt at staying low failed, and I couldn't help but glance up. Mother's aura was so hot I thought her hair would catch on fire. Lucas' aura was a good contender.
"That's where you're mistaken. You're as childish as the fit you're throwing. I'll treat you like an adult when you start acting like one."
My older brother was silent, the only movement being the rise and fall of his chest and the stir of disbelief in his eyes. He seemed to have had enough. With a sickly shriek his chair was pushed back, and Lucas disappeared into his room.
Mother returned to her meal, but I could tell the argument had upset her as well.
The rest of dinner was silent.
That night, I couldn't fall asleep. I shared a room with mother, but I easily slipped by her sleeping form.
I sought peace in the still of night. Often I'd wander into the woods, finding shelter in its shadows. And that particular night, I couldn't stop thinking about Lucas' words. Was I starting to agree with him? Starting to yearn for vengeance?
For a moment I considered finding Dennis within the walls of Stormwind. Before he had left he invited me to visit in the daylight, but he never mentioned anything about midnight dilemmas.
As I grew, my understanding of this war did also. Instead of finding closure as I got older, it was as if the more I understood the more I opened a sore wound. Especially the few weeks prior to the mishap. I had cried more often, frustrated at our helplessness of our situation.
The path leading to Stormwind was feet away, but I was well hidden should bandits or grave robbers be out and about.
Perhaps Lucas was right. We couldn't control the past, but we grasped the future. And the Scourge was responsible…
Footsteps echoed down the dirt path, pulling me out of thought. Instinctively I pulled further into the shadows, nearly falling backwards off the rotting log I was plopped upon. Squinting, I peered through the thicket, attempting to discern the human presence I sensed. A single figure slipped by, silently prodding down the path. Silently I slinked off my stupor, slipping through shadows to keep up with the silhouette figure.
In no time I was directly behind the man. He stopped unexpectedly, eyes searching for something in the distance. My eyes widened in shock. "Lucas."
Startled, my brother flipped around, nearly loosing his footing. "What the hell, Grace? You scared me!"
I was going to demand an explanation to his random wanderings, but then the pieces fit together. "You're leaving…to enlist, aren't you?"
His hand rubbed his forehead, bangs forced out of his eyes. "I have to do this, Grace."
I frowned. "You weren't going to say goodbye."
His face fell. "Of course I was going to! You're my sister! You weren't in your room…"
"And you're leaving anyway!" I snapped in a whisper.
Lucas pulled me into a soft hug. "You know I have to go." I held back tears, managing a slight nod signaling I understood. "Hey, you can visit me. I train in Stormwind until I get an apprenticeship."
I nodded. "I know. I know where."
"Good." Lucas paused, his arms braced against my shoulders. "I left a letter for mother. I hope she understands…keep an eye on her, okay? And Matthew, too."
"Mother's going to be devastated," I muttered, wiping away unwanted tears.
Lucas' lips turned into a grimace as his hand gripped my neck. "Be strong for her."
I merely nodded as Lucas planted a kiss on my forehead. "Return home." Another nod as his arms released from my shoulders. He picked up his single sack, and with a wink he returned to his journey.
"Lucas." My voice cracked as if I hadn't used it in days. The man turned, a soft breeze pushing brown looks that matched mine out of his face. "Stay safe."
He smiled. "Of course."
I watched him go. When the dark shape of my brother disappeared into the night, I returned home. I'm not sure if I slept at all that night. I recall laying in bed, shivering even though it was fall, and listening to my mother's breathing.
And dreading the next morning.
I'd hate to relive that sunrise. I was still asleep when my mother awakened. That is, until she shook me awake. "Where's your brother?"
I almost told her I knew, and that Lucas still loved his family, but I shrugged instead. "Lucas, or Matthew?"
The rest was a blur, perhaps because of my hidden secret. Lucas had left a note, as promised, which stated his plans and loyalty to his family. It helped me feel somewhat absolved, and looking back I don't feel remorse for not telling my mother I had seen him leave and did nothing to stop him. My mother and I were able to cry together, Matthew only thirteen but old enough to understand his role. He held my mother tightly.
Days went by. Mother tried to carry on. I missed my brother, but couldn't help but admire his perseverance.
I was thinking of my own hidden desires more and more often. Moments had passed where I considered following in my older brother's footsteps. But if felt as if I was picking sides. It was like my mother had drawn a line, and I could either be for or against her.
After ten days, I wished to visit my brother, and possibly Dennis. For hours before my departure I tried to come up with a believable lie to tell my mother. But it grew late, and my chores were finished. Mother was putting away washed dishes from dinner. I peered meekly through the small doorway. "I'm going into town…for a bit."
My mother turned, curiosity painted on her face. "I thought you hated the trade center."
I felt my face flush pink, fingers gripping the wooden frame. "I thought I'd give in another shot."
She smiled thinly. "Of course."
I nodded, assuming that was my sign of approval. Before I could set off, my mother called my name. "If you see my son," she began as she wiped a final dish, "tell him I love him."
Smiling, I bowed slightly before leaving her to finish.
In all my years, I have slipped by hundreds of men and women. I've needed distractions, weapons, poisons, and the cover of night to do so. But one thing never waned: it wouldn't matter if I had all my tricks ready—I could never slip something by my mother.
At first I was timid about leaving to visit my brother, but Mother always allowed me to go. My travels into Stormwind grew more frequent as I balanced time between my brother and Dennis. I'd watch the guards and soldiers carefully as I waited. How they moved and socialized. Sometimes I could even catch a glimpse of the two as they trained.
It turned out that Dennis had a very strong talent for the Light. He began to train as a paladin after his first week within the Stormwind walls, after he grew startled at a noise and accidentally called forth the Light's blessing, effectively performing a seal on a poor cat in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I would visit Dennis right after sunset, and afterwards used my remaining time to talk to Lucas. There were numerous times when my brother would talk to me until way past dusk, when the stars shined the brightest and the moon guarded the night. We'd simply talk—about his training or new skills. Lucas always asked me about my day, but my stories were never as alluring as his.
We'd talk for hours, until both of us were dreary and nearly asleep. But Lucas never complained of my presence, and if he grew sick of my curiosity he never mentioned it.
One night near my eighteenth birthday, Lucas and I were again caught chatting aimlessly.
"When I'm twenty," he began softly, "I'll be eligible to move in apprenticeship."
"Do you think you'll be chosen?" I asked, pulling my cape tighter as a breeze lifted across the brick steps.
"I sure do hope so," he answered.
"Judging by the stories you've told me, I'd say there's no way they could possibly turn you down." I grinned. "Except for maybe the time you misaimed and shot an arrow through your instructor's hat."
"Hey, I told you that was an accident! Someone jostled me!" Lucas defended.
"Well even with that slight mishap, I think you're the best they've got," I mentioned.
Lucas smiled. "Well thanks, little sis." Suddenly my brother perked up noticeably. "Which reminds me…" He shuffled beneath his cloak, searching for something as I waited with a raised eyebrow. Finally, his hand emerged, holding a golden ring. In the center an emerald sparkled. "In case I don't see you before your birthday."
It sparkled in the twilight as Lucas placed it in my palm. "It's…"
"It's a special ring. Dennis and I both thought deeply about your gift. We both pitched in. It's very special…you must wear it at all times."
Smiling, I slipped the ring on. "How could I not?" I gave my brother a small hug. "Thank you. And I'll be sure to tell Dennis the same."
"Well, it's a special birthday. We were eighteen when-"
"I know, Lucas." I sighed. "I just…don't know."
He patted my shoulder. "When the time comes, you'll know." Then he yawned, gazing at the stars. "It's getting late. You'll be okay getting home?"
Lucas always asked the same question when I'd leave, and as usual, I nodded.
Slowly I stood, allowing the blood to flow back into my legs. I rubbed my behind. "Tell your superiors you need more comfortable steps."
Lucas laughed as he stood. "Be careful out there. The darkness can't hide you forever."
I pulled my cloak tighter, my hood easily covering my face. "I blame the sun."
With a final hug I set off. Lucas watched from the doorstep until I turned the corner.
Stormwind was always dead when I began my journey back to our cottage. It was always outside of Stormwind I grew cautious. Respect for the unknown. Stormwind was normally a safe haven prior to journeying into the woods.
Not on that particular night.
I was near the heart of the city. Silently I turned a sharp corner into a familiar alleyway, cloak billowing behind me. It was my style. I traveled where the darkness hid me best.
Except I happened to run right into a thug townsman. He seemed shocked, at first, of my presence on the street. And I was surprised, too. I should have been able to sense him before he was right at the tip of my nose.
I sensed another person behind me before the man in front of me could even see them. The pair didn't seem very welcoming, to say the least. "Sorry." I tried to mumble politely and step aside and continue on my way, but the man before me snatched my right wrist.
"Look, Jacks! Pretty girl has some pretty lit'l trinkets!"
I winced, trying to suppress my gag reflex. Too easily could I smell the booze on the man's breath.
"Does she?" Inwardly I cursed my luck. Man number one reached for my new ring, but I writhed my hand away.
"No, please!" I begged. My back bumped into what I assumed to be man number two's chest. "Anything but my ring! You don't even want this worthless thing my grandmother gave me. Isn't valuable except for its many memories!"
"Missy, remove the ring," he grinned, looking me up and down, "and anything else worth something to a couple of blokes. Or we'll remove what we see fit."
To keep my bottom lip from quivering, I bit down on it. I had been pretty calm until both men moved in even closer.
I began to panic. My throat was suddenly dry, but the presence of cold sweat arrived on the nape of my neck.
I was ready to surrender and merely hope for the best, but a noise behind me caught the attention of both. The pair seemed very distracted, and I took the opportunity to sigh dramatically. I inconspicuously removed the ring and placed it safely in my pocket. "Fine. It's all I have, but…" I pretended to toss the ring high into the air. "You'll have to fight for it!"
Both men, incredibly drunk, leapt up, clawing each other as if it'd get them up higher.
Before the pair could realize my trick, I broke into a run. I slipped my hood back on, silently galloping along the narrow alley.
Scuffled footsteps could be heard behind me. A stack of crates to the left were a perfect boost, and it only took a bit of upper body strength to pull myself onto the roof of a nearby building. Then I laid flat, laying low as I listened to the pair argue about which way I'd gone.
When it was clear, I could finally exhale. The relief was cut short—a voice alerted me that I still wasn't alone: "That was well done."
I tried to scamper onto my feet, but the angle of the roof was too steep and I only succeeded in looking ridiculous. "Who's there?" I called out. Normally I could pinpoint a person's location, but this time I couldn't.
"I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was masculine, but heavily articulate. My eyes continued to scan the dark of the roof.
"Then show yourself," I argued, finally able to find my footing and managing a half-slump with my back scraped against the large shingles.
Before I could blink, the man's figure became visible. He stood at the roof's apex, perfectly balanced and at ease. He wasn't a heavily built man, but I could see from his silhouette that he was sculpted and toned.
"That was very impressive back there," he began smoothly. I squinted—I couldn't tell if he was even looking at me. "It takes a quick thinker to escape such a predicament."
"It was cowardly," I corrected.
"It was survivability," he countered. I didn't bother hiding my anticipation.
"What do you want?" I asked. "I have no money, and if you try to hurt me, I'll scream."
"Calm down, girl." I frowned. "Trust me. If I wanted your money or other belongings, I could slip by and pick pocket you without your noticing. And if I was going to hurt you," I swear I heard his smirk, "I would have already done so."
"Then what is it you want," I hissed. "Because normal people don't follow young women onto rooftops."
He took a step toward me, and I barely made out glimmering green eyes in the moonlight. "I'm not exactly normal. And neither are you."
"How quaint," I stated. "Not exactly the choice of words one should implement when wooing a woman, but I give you credit for originality."
My sarcasm didn't seem to phase the man. "I do not intend on wooing you. My only intent is to get you to…consider…a small proposal of mine."
"Marriage? This soon?" Now I was only determined to break his demure façade. "My apologies, sir, but I don't even know your name!"
He released a chuckle of amusement. "This proposal of mine is a bit more…dynamic."
My eyebrows furrowed. "How so?"
"I wish to give you an opportunity to be an initiate of SI:7."
I paused. "SI:7?"
The young man nodded. "I've watched you off and on the past week…"
"Stalker," I mumbled.
"…and I've noticed that you carry many natural talents required to be a member of the rogue class of the Alliance."
My face fell. "A rogue?" I repeated.
"Yes. It's a different class, indeed. Rogues-"
"I know of your class," I interrupted. "I have two loved ones in the ranks. They've explained every class to me. Rogues are the dirty class. They rely on trickery."
"The same trickery you yourself have used?" he countered. "Rogues rely on perception and deception. Are you familiar with the current war?"
I nodded. "I'm far too familiar," I replied cynically.
"Each class has its dirty tricks," he stated smoothly. "SI:7 is in great need of skilled rogues. Your abilities in stealth are natural, and only require advancement. Normally it takes recruits weeks to learn what you already do naturally."
"You want me…to be a rogue?" I asked.
"I only ask you consider it," he answered. "It won't be easy. Rogues are the force that moves in before the front line. We're on the battlefield before the enemy even knows there's a fight."
"It's a dangerous trade," I surmised.
"Rogues are like poison on the tip of a sword. The enemy doesn't realize the danger until it's too late, and the damage is already done."
"Do you always go out of your way and glorify the rogue class for potential recruits?" I asked.
"Normally I don't have to. Potential recruits come to me."
"But I'm an exception."
"Precisely. I'd like you to think over the matter, and meet me tomorrow. Same time."
"Where?" I asked.
"I'll find you," he replied simply, shifting his weight. He seemed ready to dismount off his perch, but he turned suddenly to face me again. "Oh, and by the way, it's Zen."
I blinked. "What?"
"My name. It's Zen."
I cocked an eyebrow. "I'm Grace."
He nodded as if in approval, then bowed slightly. "Grace."
Zen disappeared, leaving me alone on the roof with my small puffs of breath. The way he said my name sounded smooth, as if it was a mystery, an idea left incomplete. It made me feel like he was still around, still watching, and for a few moments I simply stayed put, listening to my surroundings. I still wasn't convinced Zen was gone when I did jump off the roof and finish my journey home.