The Assassin's Son

Author's Note

It has been mentioned by a few of my readers, both in the reviews and outside of them, that the world of Havorra, the world I have created for my D&D campaign, some 15 years old or so, should be better explained.

As such, I'd like to give you, dear reader, a brief introduction. If you haven't had a chance to read my "Introduction to Havorra", please do, for you may find it a useful backdrop and explanation to the world of the Shadow Spinner.

Thank you,

- Warcry

Prelude

"Page one." You were right, Grandfather, not such a good place to start a story. But a start none-the-less.

It's been some fifteen winters or more since that day. My, how the time goes by…

I don't remember much about my early childhood, but I remember that day, and nearly every day after that. For that day was "page one" in my life.

It was the day my last living relative was killed by a former Knight of Heironeous, pent upon vengeance for committing what has become legend: "The Fall of the Kingdom of Sharapuur."

What I do remember as a boy, was that I had always wanted to be a Knight. I wanted to wear shining armor, slay the Dragon, wed the Princess. Apparently, so too, did my Grandfather.

Who says Knights always have to wear armor?

Who says they have to always ride a horse, and carry a lance and shield?

Not that it does much good to argue about it now, at any rate, seeing as how those Knights all fell to a man who didn't do any of those things anyway. Grandfather was right about that, too.

"…It matters little who owned something first, and matters much who is left standing in the end to claim ownership after the dust settles…"

How proud I was all of a sudden! My Grandfather, the one who slew all of the Knights of the Golden Serpent! And all because they tried to steal his namesake, the Assassin's Guild tattoo, it's herald, it's calling card. How dare they believe they had wiped out my Grandfather's guild!

"..never, ever, assume that your enemy has fled the battlefield just because you brought in reinforcements and can no longer locate them…"

Grandfather was right. Though I believe he may have forgotten that credo by letting Otto go. Then again, maybe not… maybe Grandfather left him alone as a reminder… one not to ever forget. I shall not, my Grandfather, I shall not.

It was spring. With my parents dead and gone, now, as I think on it, possibly killed by the same man who killed my Grandfather, I was alone. Well, not truly alone, as I had met my faithful companion, Kooraw, but truly alone as far as family was concerned.

I had learned so much in such a small amount of time with my Grandfather. I buried the Knight in a shallow grave out back after stripping him clean of anything useful.

For Grandfather, it was different. For him, I lit the sacred pyre so much like that we had burned my parents upon when I was but a small boy. I put the coins on his eyes to pay Nerull, the boatman, on his way across after taking the entire day to wash his body, dress him in his finest clothes, carefully drag him atop the pyre, and set him alight. His fire shone throughout the night, with only myself and the Raven to bear witness.

I was only ten winters old. But by then, I had already seen so much. I had already drawn my first blood, and a former Knight at that! It was that day, "page one", that would define the rest of my life.

For it was as the Raven had said, I was now "he", the one. The last Golden Serpent Assassin, and I must prove myself to be the greatest Assassin in all the Realms, so much like my Grandfather had been. If not for me, then for all the Assassins who came before me, and for my parents, who I learned later had been cut down for their heritage as well…