It was a dark and stormy night. Typical, yes, for Ireland. It was like this for 200 years or 400 years or God knows how long. No matter how long or how many storms and explosionsit took to make it that way, this was just the way it works.

You come out of your house, shielding your face with your sleeve or hat, if you're lucky to have such thing, to embrace the rain then you realise that the only thing that's bombarding your body is the grey coming from the sky and, maybe even sunshine. "Oh goodness." you mutter and walk happily to your destination. Then the weather just lols at you and brings the heaviest storm you have ever seen.

It's one of those days, it seems.

Skulduggery Pleasant breathed in the smoke that slowly travelled it's way through the cigarette to his lips. He felt the warmth gently pushing away his worries and his anger. He let some of it get out from his nose but held a little bit of it inside, letting it linger around his throat. Then he let the remaining smoke out and closed his eyes. It was March the 9th, 1597. The newly built Sanctuary of Ireland, what was left of it, at least, was still dealing with the ashes of war, while trying to make sure everything was taken care of. But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't undo the damage they have recieved, an they never will. They have lost a lot of men. Strong, powerful, brave men and women that stood up and fought for what they believe in and their will to survive. But now, only their footsteps remained. Their loved ones, their children, were forced to bury them and to face the agony that nobody deserved to suffer from.

God...

Pleasant's grip on the arm of the chair tightened. He felt tears, desperately trying to find their way out of his eyelids. He forced them back, and took a quick, shaky breath from his cigarette.

There were battlegrounds and the places which were wrecked and torn away by the war, but this was the least of their problems.

There were others, hiding and regaining their strength in other Sanctuaries, fighting with them, who needed tools and medicine and food for the sick and the wounded. They needed warriors and support and most importantly, help. They were desperate, survivors of a war which doesn't seem to end. They had lost just too much.

Ireland was already fighting another war. With armies and cold and famine. A war which was deafeningly loud and was later going to be remembered as one of the darkest times in Irish history. The war they were fighting, was a much silent one. But it wasn't hard for the mortals or anyone, really, to see the effects of it. The sensitives were trying to deal with the witnesses, and keeping them as calm as they could. They were, actually, quite successful, though Pleasant knew, they all knew, that they couldn't handle this much longer. They were falling, and their enemies were coming closer.

Surrounded by his thoughts, he could barely hear the knock on the door.

"Skulduggery?" said a voice.

Skulduggery opened his eyes and blinked as he was pulled back to reality by the sound of the door of his room opening.

He turned around to see Ghastly Bespoke silently struggling to keep the door open for him to get out. He was wearing a white shirt and his brown vest, his favourite.

Ghastly stepped forward. He was about to say something but he spotted the cigarette in Skulduggery's hand and paused. Skulduggery looked at it and then at Ghastly.

"I have no idea where that came from."

Ghastly stared.

"I was watching the rain. Just watching.. Minding my own business."

Ghastly put his hand in the pocket of his trousers.

" I just love it, you know? The way the rain just... falls.."

Ghastly took out 2 empty packs of cigarettes from the pocket and threw them onto the small table in front of Skulduggery. Skul looked at them for a second and then raised his hands defendingly.

"You said you were going to quit."

"...Watching the rain?"

"Smoking."

Skulduggery seemed like he was going to talk back but instead sat back and let out a sigh.

"I did, yes, because I will. Just not today."

Ghastly didn't look satisfied but he nodded. He knew as much about Skulduggery as he knew about himself. And considering what was going on outside the heavy doors of the Sanctuary and all the he had seen in the battlefield, it was fair enough for him to react this way.

Skulduggery breathed in the smoke one last time and threw it outside. It landed on a small pile of cigarettes, just above the center.

"Bullseye." Skulduggery muttered and stood up. He waved his hand and the ashes flew away with the wind. He cracked his knuckles and turned to Ghastly.

"It's Serpine." Ghastly said. Skulduggery stiffened.

"Hopeless saw one of his men here, in Dublin, a few hours ago. Colossus Dread."

"The man who shot the French general?" Skulduggery asked.

"Exactly. Average height, dark hair, blue eyes. Burned face. I think he might actually be this 'invisible assassin' the sensitives were talking about."

Skulduggery tilted his head. "Since when?"

"Last month. When you were... Ah." Ghastly nodded. "Right, you were in Istanbul at that time."

"I was."

"What happened there, by the way? You haven't talked much about it."

Skulduggery leaned against the chair. "There was a potential threat to the resistance movement and the civillians. I learnt about it from the mages of the Sanctuary in Ayasofya. One of the Sultan's advisors, with hundreds of mages, was making a plan to destroy the city and the rest of the empire with a floating battleship. They nearly succeeded, but the ship stayed on air for only 2 minutes. I went back to Ireland a few weeks later. I haven't talked about it a lot because there wasn't really anything to talk about except the mission itself. Someone threw a shoe on the top of my head one day, though."

Ghastly raised his eyebrow.

"A shoe?"

"A shoe. I was talking to the leader of the resistance about the plan in a street, and then a girl threw a brown leather shoe at me from the stairs nearby and ran away laughing. Needless to say, it was a great day."

Ghastly chuckled. "Well, it seems like it."

"So," Skulduggery continued, " this 'invisible assassin you're talking about, is he an Adept?"

"Probably, though there isn't enough data for us to tell for sure. He's very skilled in combat, we know that much because it was the only thing he was seen using."

Skulduggery paused. "I see. Where in Dublin did Hopeless see him?"

"In the Brazen Head. He was drunk, apparently, trying to seduce a couple of ladies. He threw up on one when he was leaning in on her."

"Ah."

"Then he got in a fight with the bar-man and ran away when the policemen came. He cursed and threw a banana on them."

Skulduggery nodded. "Were the policemen harmed?"

"Luckily, no. It wasn't hostile. It wasn't poisonous. It probably wasn't even alive."

"It must really suck at being a banana."

"Dread then ran behind a house nearby. He was gone by the time they reached it."

Skulduggery nodded again. "Typical. I assume Meritorious already knows about this."

"He was the first person Hopeless went to. He sent a few mages and Hopeless to investigate but the streets turned out to be clean."

Skulduggery paused for a moment.

"Alright. So, what do we have to do?"

"Cassandra called just now. She said she saw a vision and that we should come, quick."

Skulduggery put on his jacket and his hat. "Then we better get going."

Skulduggery went to the door of the cottage and knocked as Ghastly sliently struggled under the rain to keep the two horses in one place. A few seconds later the tall lady opened the door. She was wearing a white robe with a light blue cardigan. Cassandra stepped forward with a warm smile on her face.

"Ah, Skulduggery. Ghastly."

Ghastly fell down on his back when the black horse bumped his head into him.

"Cassandra." Skulduggery said, greeting her with a nod. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright. Thurid Guild tried to bargain with us to get us to the Sanctuary for "safety measures", again, a few days ago. That man just can't let go of it, can he?"

"I'm afraid not. I wish I was there How's the leg?"

He had forgotten all about his leg. He bent down. The wound was on his right leg, one of his favourite ones. The wound was three weeks old. Some Necromancer threw sharp shards of shadow at him and one of them went right through his leg. It didn't draw a lot of blood but still, it hurt like goddamn hell. He looked at it. He couldn't really see much with his trousers getting in the way but even after three weeks, he could still feel it aching slightly.

"It's seen better days," he admitted, "but there's only pain. I can manage pain.". Skulduggery realised how oddly philosophical he sounded but Cassandra didn't seem to mind.

"You always have, Skulduggery. And, what about Ghastly? I heard his mother got sick a few days ago."

Skulduggery glanced at Ghastly who was back on his feet, doing something with the leesh in his hands.

"She fainted when she was at home. Ghastly took her to the doctor and it appeared that it was low blood sugar. Nothing important. He stayed in her room the whole day nevertheless."

Something dark and big moved and Ghastly was suddenly on the ground again. Cassandra chuckled softly.

"You know, I see you two in my dreams sometimes. Sometimes when you're fighting, mostly when you're trying to run away from an explosion or a rain of arrows or... Something big. And even though I know you're still alive at the end, I still get pleasantly surprised everytime I see you in front of me. I saw a ship last month you know, a flying ship, turn and fire a canon right at you while a Necromancer tried to tear you apart. I remember Ghastly getting attacked by a demented pirate."

"Ah," Skulduggery nodded, "Klaus Trondson. One of the best drunken men I have ever knew."

"Yet, there you are. Not exactly in one piece, but alive nonetheless."

Ghastly pulled himself together got up in a hurry to escape the wrath of the horse. Then he rushed towards them.

And, as a matter of fact, I want you to stay that way. So, come on inside now, you two. You're going to freeze do death."

Captain Obvious: End of chapter 1.

TZQ: Shut up Joe.