"To the Black Fang?"

Legault raised his glass, and with a cheer of "to the Black Fang," the other six at the table joined in the toast.

"With the Hurricane here," the one to Legault's left, laid-back and smirking, took a long sip from his glass. "This'll be another easy mission, won't it?"

"Never take the foe lightly." Legault sighed with a little smirk, setting down his goblet without drinking from it.

"Even if we've got the Hurricane with us?" The one to his left asked. "Hey, you're going to do that thing again, right?"

"I do it every time." Legault said, pulling a teal vial from his robes and popping it open, taking a short sniff. "Ah… putrid as always."

With that, he poured it into his drink, and took a satisfied sip, to the rowdy laughter of the group he was with.

"I can't believe you drink that stuff… what would happen if I drank it?" Another voice asked.

"Well, first, you'd get a little cough." Legault said, taking another sip. "Then your insides would turn to liquid, and after you died, your skin would start to melt, too. Gold-back swamp serpent venom is famous for turning people into puddles, you know."

"And you drink it?" One of them laughed. Legault shrugged, as if defending himself.

"I don't want to carry around something that'll kill me. If I carry poison, I need to be immune to it."

The group burst into laughter again, and with a smirk, Legault carried on drinking his poisoned wine.

It was a jovial occasion – something of a standard among the Black Fang just before a mission. Get the spirits high, and they'll be more likely to stay fighting while their friends are dying around them. Typical tactic, thought Legault.

This mission was particularly notable – there were only seven, a low-key but high-importance mission. The Hurricane, famous assassin of the Fang, had been called from Bern out to Lycia, a territory called Ryerde, to 'negotiate' with the Marquess, who executed dissenters without mercy. With him were sent six friends to watch his back, while he dealt with the corrupt Marquess.

And so they had an extra-special party before it, wine flowing freely and barrels of food being devoured in the crudest fashion, loud and obnoxious jokes being told, and people collapsing from overeating and from too much wine right after or even, in one case, during the party.

Legault, who had limited himself to only one poisoned cup of wine and just enough food to keep himself running for the next day, laughed and smiled along with his friends, those few friends an assassin can make, and once it had partied itself out of energy, he crept away to his bed in the outpost.

And despite all the merriment and laughter, he had a heavy heart, knowing his mission was going to be anything but easy – rather, it could very well be the hardest mission that had faced him since he had joined the Fang.

The Marquess didn't just order dissenters killed… he set an assassin on them. An assassin to match, or even to outclass, the famous Hurricane…

"Well. Here's hoping I don't die." He sighed, before he went to sleep.

Here's my Secret Santa fanfic for Gunlord500~ Hope you like it so far~ o/

Cheers go out to Fire Emblem MewMew for setting up the whole thing~ You're awesome as usual, FEMM~ cx

Sorry I'm late with it, by the waaaay... and even then that I only finished the first two chapters~ ^^' So siiiiiick right now, this sucks orz

... but anyway, Gunlord or whoever, thanks for reading, hope you like it~ \o/