Rufus adjusted his beret five degrees to the left and inspected it in the polished surface of his shield.
"It doesn't look any better than it did five minutes ago Cruthest; your face, that is, the hat looks fine,"
"Bah, Luther you're just jealous, that pretty wench at the floated bloat didn't seem to mind!"
"Rufus that was a whore she didn't like you she just- Who goes there!" Rufus shifted his gaze after his friend's in alarm, his inexpertly applied beret falling off his head.
"Just a weary traveler," the dark figure who had appeared rather suddenly replied. "Might I speak with the head of the household about lodging a room?" Rufus shifted uneasily, the figure's voluminous cloak whipped about in the brisk lowland wind, making it difficult to tell the stranger's size or even species.
"Sorry," called Luther, who had assumed the role of spokesman for the two 3rd gate guards. "The King is a little under the weather, you'll have to call back later," The figure took another step closer and Luther slowly moved his hand to the embossed, silver hilt of his sword. "Alternatively, you could come in and wait in one of our basement level apartments until the King is feeling better," as he spoke Luther's hand nudged Rufus, who also moved his sword to the ready.
"Maybe I'll just go in, he'll want to see me, we're old friends," explained the figure genially.
"I'm afraid that really isn't an option," as he spoke Luther's face was far more impassive than he felt, a veteran soldier of two years, Luther hadn't got that way by underestimating dangerous people and some long buried instinct told him this mysterious stranger was very dangerous.
"That wasn't a question," whispered the autumn wind, caressing his neck gently as the stranger withdrew her katana from his heart. Luther gasped, tried to draw a breath and lost blood instead. Frozen wide in shock, his eyes drifted to the floor of his post where Rufus scrabbled frantically at his throat as the life drained out of him through the neat slash in his jugular. Luther lurched towards their attacker, cleared his sword from its scabbard and slashed at the stranger at the same time, it was the last blow of his life and every rapidly draining resource he could martial was behind it.
Rufus watched in horror as his friend made one last, desperate slash at the stranger, watched in incomprehension as the stranger effortlessly leaned around the slash and caught Luther as he fell forward, lowering the guard gently to the floor. He was still confused when the stranger bent over, picked something blue up then walked slowly towards him. As she lowered the beret he'd always hated over his eyes he was still just as confused but the struggle to care was getting harder and harder as his vision faded and his limbs grew numb.
He stopped watching.
"INTRUDER! INTRUDER IN THE PALACE!" The Sergeant roared enthusiastically running down the gilded corridor, buckling his sword belt around his waist as he ran.
"INTRUDER!" he explained helpfully to the gaggle of maids he barreled into, upsetting the day's laundry. Reaching the East Courtyard he ran up to his assembled squad, each one snapped to attention, the morning sun gleaming off an array of polished helms and shields. Outwardly the Sergeant remained impassive, his imperious features seemingly hewn from granite.
"ALRIGHT LISTEN UP YOU LAYABOUTS! THE 3RD GATE HAS BEEN OVERRUN, ITS GUARDS SLAIN; WE ARE TO SEARCH THE EASTERN GARDEN FOR SIGNS OF THE INTRUDER! THE INTRUDER IS REPORTED TO BE OF SLIGHT BUILD, A VIERA AND WIELDS A KATANA, IT IS LIKELY WE ARE FACING AN ASSASSIN AND A DANGEROUS ONE AT THAT, BE ON YOUR GUARD!" roared the Sergeant as his heart swelled with pride.
"YES SIR!" roared the squad, equally enthusiastic
"ALRIGHT THEN LET'S MOVE OUT!" he shouted gruffly. As he led his soldiers into battle he roared at some loitering servants to reassure himself that he wasn't going soft.
Calea nocked an arrow to her bow and followed after her sergeant, taking her place as the van's ranged support. As the sharpest pair of eyes in her squad (and all the other squads too she insisted loudly to anyone who would listen) she knew a lot was expected of her in this mission. Historically, Calea's tribe, the Valrya, has always had strong ties with the royal family. Her Mother, Grandmother and their Grandmothers had lead the King's armies through the tendriled, sinuous depths of Zedlai to deliver crushing flank attacks against his enemies, in times of peace the Valrya guarded the King's palace, no building could be considered safe unless Viera eyes watched the walls. Suddenly a flutter of black caught her eye.
"There! By the fountain!" The black flutter ducked behind the fountain as Calea sent an arrow howling past it, renocking in an instant, Calea followed the rest of her squad after the intruder as the blood of her ancestors sung.
The hunt was on.
Her long legs drove her past her cohorts and soon Calea was at the head of the pack. Sprinting towards the fountain, a giant stone behemoth, she grabbed the lip of the fountain and slid around after the intruder.
Catching sight of the fleeing intruder ahead; Calea discarded her bow and drew a long bladed knife from the sheath on her leg and sprinted after her.
"Stop!" she called and when the intruder actually did she forgot to follow her example and crashed into her. Grappling for a hold on her prey she felt two heavy boots thump into her stomach and was launched onto her back. Rolling onto her feet, the intruder drew a katana from underneath the billowing cloak and circled slowly as Calea scrabbled to her feet, clutching her knife in a reverse grip. Parrying Calea's first slash the intruder stepped in for a jab and danced out of the way of Calea's counter, straight into an arrow. Spinning around the intruder caught site of a second squad of guards cutting off her escape route. She jumped away from another slash from the sniper and tumbled under a bolt of lightning, heralding the dispatchment of a palace mage. As another arrow thudded into her thigh the intruder swayed slightly and gambled on one last offensive, suddenly she launched a vicious assault; stumbling backwards Calea parried overhand after thrust after slash before sensing an opening As the intruder over extended an inch to far into a slash, Calea leaned in and her knife slid in between the ribs of her opponent. The intruder gasped and coughed, the katana dropped from nerveless fingers and the intruder sagged and fell into Calea's arms. Calea heard a deep rattling sigh and knew the other woman was dying.
"Who are you?" she demanded into the hood of the clock
"Who do you serve?" She yelled, the intruder groaned and her head bumped into Calea's chest, as she fell her hood fluttered in the air briefly and was left behind by the face it should have hid, a finely featured human female, skin pale with blood loss. As the implications hit her Calea went almost as pale
"It's not her!" She yelled at the milling crowd of guards
"It's a human! There are two! Two intruders!"
The second intruder watched the scene unfold from the balcony and something flickered in her flint colored eyes. Having discarded her cloak to evade a patrolling squad the intruder was dressed in the loose, dark wrappings favored by Viera of her profession, revealing a lithe figure, the wiry muscles of a warrior invisible but evident in her efficient gait, similar to a panther's. Slinking purposefully down the ostentatious hallway she passed room after room until she found the one she was searching for. She stood in front of the (like everything else in the palace, heavily gilded) door for an instant as though remembering something then pushed through, revealing a set of apartments clearly unused for years. The intruder walked through the living room, ignoring expensive (gilded) furniture draped in cotton to ward off dust and moved into the bedroom.
Dominating the room was a massive, four poster bead, still made with silk sheets but the intruder ignored that too. She moved past the bed and found herself gazing into a mirror, cunningly worked into the wall itself and surrounded by decorative wooden inlays. The mirror revealed a surprisingly young Viera, her hair still only shoulder length, downy ears twitching to catch the far off sound of panic, dressed literally to kill. Wrapped head to toe in black silk weapons were strapped to every convenient location, knives, her katana, poisons and the antidotes all cleverly concealed in various hidden pouches, betrayed only by the slightest of bulges on an otherwise completely predatory frame. Softly, a gloved hand reached towards one of the inlays, a traditional scene depicting the Viera matriarch Vesperia and the Human warrior Anoclaius facing each other in combat. Deftly the hand pushed on the carvings, lowering Anoclaius's sword and pushing away Vesperia's staff. Then she bent the two figures towards each other at the waist, as the wooden lips met, an ancient mechanism clicked into place and the mirror slid down to reveal an ancient stone passageway. The intruder pushed her mask up and padded down the passageway, the soft fabric of her shoes making no sound on the dusty stones.
Abruptly the passage came to an end, a stone wall with a hand wheel embedded nearby. The intruder walked up, placed both hands and twisted, testing her strength against the accumulated rust. As the wheel turned, the wall sunk into the ground, revealing the back of two way mirror, giving the intruder a view into the room she was about to enter. Richly appointed, even for the royal palace, the light sparkled and gleamed from every available surface. All this was to be expected, the King's chambers was the heart of the palace, its reason for existing and if its builders could have stolen the moon away from the sun and crafted it into furniture then they would have, even if the King was not, nor would he ever again be awake to enjoy his lavish surroundings. The intruder shifted her gaze downwards towards the single most expensive bed in Jylland and the man who had slept upon it for five thousand years.
The King did not appear to be an old man. His features were unscarred from age, and his face was clean of stubble. Golden hair splashed playfully over milky white skin, ending before it reached eyes that were oblivious to the world outside him. A straight nose, perhaps a shade too long but one that would find its place given a little more time to grow pointed the way towards the royal mouth. There a slight smile chased across full, red lips that might have looked petulant or conceited on another, but the King merely appeared content, as though something of great import had just been accomplished. Apart from the insensible King the bedroom was deserted, as it had been for the last five thousand years apart from the occasional maid. The intruder applied a little pressure to the mirror and it swung outwards, she stepped silently onto the bed and slid her back down the headboard until she sat next to the King, her legs folded up against her stomach.
The intruder's ears twitched and she became aware of the sound of heavy boots clattering against the stone floor of the corridor, as she listened the sound grew steadily louder and was accompanied by frenzied shouts.
"I'm…sorry," she whispered as the heavy oaken door burst open and guards poured in lead by a furious Moogle clad in the heavy armor of a knight. As the Moogle drew his blade and leaped towards her, the Assassin let a thin dagger slip from her sleeve into her hand and plunged it into the King's chest. As the Moogle's blade arced towards her in a killing blow the assassin flashed and was gone. The Moogle stared at his weapon, expecting to see an impaled assassin his eyes met only a scrap of black silk and a single drop of blood. Hastily he realized he was tracking mud and jumped off the edge of the royal bed before realizing far there were far larger issues to be concerned with.
"The King…" he cleared his throat and tried again, adjusting his helmet.
"The King… is dead," he reported solemnly
"Kupo," he added, just as solemnly.
Far away, in a dark and twisted cave in a dark and twisted corner of Jylland a bright flash of light temporarily blinded the robed Nu mou who had called it. A hand, gnarled with age reached up and rubbed two black eyes, nestled like beetles in the folds and wrinkles of his ancient face, until their vision was restored. When he opened them they revealed a Viera standing in front of him clad in dark silk and panting heavily, a light gash marked her stomach.
"Did…You…Want…to leave it any later?" she hissed between breaths. "I very nearly died," she added gesturing at the cut.
"Well perhaps if you hadn't spent so long reminiscing," suggested the Nu mou mildly. "Regardless, the act is done, we must concern ourselves with the next obstacle," he continued offering the Viera a cup of tea and taking one for himself from the nearby desk, which she accepted.
"Very well, where did the soul reappear?"
"Ah…" The Nu mou took a sip from his cup.
"You mean assassinating the King was the easy part?" The Viera sipped her tea and wished for something stronger. Her companion shook his head as rapidly as his advanced age would allow.
"No, no it shouldn't too difficult, it's just the soul reappeared somewhere rather… exotic."
"Exotic?" the Nu mou nodded
"Yes, I don't suppose you've heard of a little place called Earth?"