Streets of Morroc

The walk back to the orphanage was slow and silent. There was an almost tangible tension hanging in the air before the group, the kind that was readily visible to a newcomer; worn in their furrowed brows, etched into the lines formed as mouths were set, hanging from their drooping eyelids. The occasional shuffling of footsteps and shifting of clothing and various armor dotted the silence, but not a single word sparked up to start a conversation. There was an urgency, quickening their paces, throwing their senses into high gear, turning every dark alleyway into a danger zone, every corner into a potential ambush point.

"Grant, there's something you need to know," Cadence said, breaking the silence for the first time. Behind the high priestess, Eurie jumped, startled at the noise. She once again grabbed onto Reinbach's arm for support.

"What is it?" the paladin asked curtly. Cadence looked around for potential eavesdroppers, then lowered her voice.

"Two days ago, the Boss decreed the formation of a military force of elites, for the purpose of hunting down defectors, traitors and treasoners," she muttered.

"Namely, us," he said. "Fill me in on the details."

"It will be divided into four classes, for specialization. Each class is to be led by its highest ranking or most capable member. Lord knights, paladins, champions and high priests. They're to be called the Royal Justices."

"I'm assuming that I wasn't chosen to lead the crusaders and paladins," Grant said darkly. "Something tells me that I'm not on the Boss's good side."

"They've elected Sir Uriel Margaret as the paladin," Cadence said, "and I was chosen to lead the priests and priestesses." Hearing this, Grant swore.

"That goes to show that he doesn't suspect you," the paladin growled. "I suppose we can forget about having high priest support while we travel."

"I'm sorry Grant; I didn't have a choice. I didn't want to rouse the Boss's suspicion more than necessary."

He shook his head.

"It couldn't be helped. Uriel Margaret would have been chosen whether the Boss suspected me or not. Well then, has Chivalry Captain Herman been chosen as the Lord Knight?" he asked. Cadence shook her head.

"He doesn't trust him either. In the circle, he only trusts me and Michael of the Famestra line, but Michael turned down the Pope's request so – "

"Probably Salathiel as the champion leader," Grant mused.

"Right. But the lord knight candidate is still undecided. I have no idea who might be chosen."

"We'll worry about that later then. It can't be helped. That's the modus operandi used by our circle..." his voice trailed off.

"Spider's modus operandi..." Cadence said. The two fell silent. For a minute, the group continued walking wordlessly.

"What circle?" Reinbach asked, breaking the silence once more. They had just rounded another corner leading to the street where the orphanage sat.

"Well it's down by one less member, but the circle is a group that transcends the political alliances and power balance of our time." The high priestess opened her mouth to continue, but Grant shook his head at her.

"No explanations beyond what's strictly necessary," he said. They reached the entrance of the orphanage. Daphne was waiting for them, pacing anxiously back and forth in front of the doors of the building.

"I heard the explosion," she said. "Is everyone... who is this, Kristoph?" Her face turned distantly neutral, eyeing Eurie, who was still clinging to Reinbach's arm.

"This... person is one of our guides to Comodo," the knight said quickly. "And I have no idea why she decided to –"

"You must be Kristoph's friend he told me about," Eurie beamed, grabbing Daphne's hands. "I've been looking forward to meet you!"

Daphne looked somewhat bewildered at Eurie's unrestrained vivacity, but still held some suspicion. There were some trespasses that women didn't easily forget, and Eurie had already unwittingly committed one the moment Daphne laid eyes on her.

"I'm Daphne Trenton," she introduced guardedly.

"Introductions can come later," Grant said, ushering them inside. "Considering that last attack, we can expect another assassin at any moment. Right now, Cadence needs to heal you so we can start traveling as soon as possible."

"Maybe I'm missing something," interrupted Argos. "But we have a high priestess right here, who can send us anywhere instantly via warp. Why are we still here?"

Grant and Cadence exchanged glances.

"Even if I did have Comodo set as one of my warp points, which I don't," she explained. "It would be a bad idea to send you there because the Pope would find out not long afterward. Warp points are monitored and documented with each casting."

"Considering how the Pope is the one who wants us dead, warping is basically the same as telling him to 'come kill us here,'" Grant said. "Well, I don't blame you for not knowing that. It's confidential information that not many people know about."

Cadence led Daphne away to a one of the rooms. "This won't take but a few minutes," she called to the group over her shoulder. "Be ready to leave by then."

"In the meanwhile," Grant said, clapping his hand over Argos's shoulder. "There are some things you need to tell me." He led the young man to the table. "Have a seat." Reinbach and Nicholas followed them and sat down as well.

"What?"

"There were two attacks made on people from our group," Grant said. "One of them was a female stalker who looked to be in her late teens, and the other I have no idea about. Considering that you were involved with the second one, I need any information from you about the attacker's battle style, mannerisms, physical appearance... anything you can think of."

Argos closed his eyes, trying to remember the assassin cross's face. The face of the attacker from was already beginning to slip from his memory. He stood up and raised his hand up to his nose, palm down.

"She was an assassin cross in her late twenties, about this tall, I think," he said slowly. "She had pale skin, long, black hair, pulled back into a ponytail that reached her lower back. I wasn't close enough to see her eye color, but I would have noticed if they were blue or green, so I'm assuming they're brown. She was also very concerned with her physical appearance, applying make-up before the battle began."

He began pacing along the wooden floorboards of the orphanage. Eurie and Nicholas were listening with rapt attention, both apparently very intrigued with the description of the assassin cross.

"Spider said her codename was Raal. She had a black assassin cross uniform. She carried a set of katars but she was capable with hand-to-hand combat, and wears poisoned nail polish. She frequently threw red gems as catalysts for the purple poison gas you saw earlier. They're made from some of her own blood so she's immune to the gas. Near the end of the fight, she pulled out an unlit match."

"Why would she do that?" Grant asked.

"She mixed some sort of flammable explosive into the red gem. That explosion earlier was because she lit that match."

"We should assume that she had some sort of means to survive that explosion," the paladin mused. "Spider mentioned to me before briefly, some of the assassin crosses in the guild. Raal was one of the higher ranking assassin crosses."

"Well that is good to hear!" Eurie chimed, clapping her hands together. "That means that we should expect things to get easier, doesn't it?"

Argos shook his head.

"Raal is ranked fourth in the Assassins Guild," he said. "That means there are three stronger assassin crosses. We can expect them to attack at any time."

"That's not quite true," Grant sighed. "Quint... or Spider was ranked third. So we can expect two attacks generally worse than today's. And on top of that, there's no rule against sending the fifth ranked or sixth ranked."

"But... this Spider man," Eurie said. "How could he have been beaten by someone weaker than him?"

Reinbach buried his face into his palm while Argos bristled with irritation. At the end of the table, Grant noticed Nicholas mouthing the words 'Spider man' with some bemusement. Well, the paladin thought. At least those two finally find a common dislike.

"Look," Reinbach said. Traces of a growl were beginning to creep into his voice. "Just because Spider was ranked higher than Raal, it doesn't mean Raal had a few hidden cards or wasn't in top condition –"

"It was a lucky strike!" Argos snapped, to Spider's defense. "A lucky strike with an underhanded move!"

Eurie meekly bowed her head.

"Rank isn't a perfect gauge for battle strength or efficiency," Grant said. "We also have to consider an assassin cross's area of specialization, strengths and weaknesses, and surroundings. And one more thing. Blaming things on lucky strikes or not being in top condition won't do you any good. It's an excuse for sore losers who weren't prepared for the battle."

Argos was about to snarl a response, but Grant waved him off.

"Spider once told me before. In his opinion, preparation was the number one factor in deciding a battle for assassins. From what I heard about this Raal character, I would say she was well prepared."

The young assassin scowled, having nothing to say in response. He recalled Reinbach fighting off Colette without an ounce of preparation. His face darkened. Would Reinbach have been able to beat Raal? Would the berserk state have been enough? The assassin shot a glance at the knight, feelings of frustration bubbling up from a well deep inside him.

Eight years prior, Morroc slums

A ten year old Richard King staggered through the streets, dizzy with hunger. He wrapped his tattered rag around his chest; the pathetic cloth couldn't even be considered a shirt. The boy stumbled over his own feet and almost fell flat on his face. Another day without food, he thought, bracing one arm against a wall for support. That orphanage is useless.

Around him, the citizens of Morroc walked on, conducting their daily business. A starving orphan was simply a statistic. Sure, some might shed a few tears for them, but no one bothered to help. No one would reach out their hand to any of these homeless orphans. What good what it do anyways? They'd live one day longer in their pitiful, miserable existence. One more day of suffering. The world went on. No one cared. It didn't matter that he was the son of the king of Prontera. Here, he was an impoverished orphan.

Still, he considered himself lucky that he had eaten yesterday. That traveling stranger from the day before was stupid and careless enough to leave his coin purse unguarded, not that he was complaining. The man should have been aware of the fact he was in the town of thieves after all. Yes... stealing could be overlooked; in fact, it was necessary for survival. The strong preyed on the weak... kill or be killed.

But at this rate, it looked like he was beginning to fall into the 'killed' category. He forced himself not to cry. What use would crying have in the merciless streets of Morroc? What effect would crying have on the hardened criminals and vagabonds of the Morroc slums?

One advantage of being so destitute in poverty was that no one would mug him for his possessions; he had none save the rags on his skeletal frame. Strangely enough, he preferred the slums of Morroc rather than the busy, open streets of the Morroc town center; here, he blended in. Here, he wasn't just a statistic; he was a survivor.

A jarring bump shook him to his senses, almost knocking him to the ground. Richard looked upward and saw a cloaked man standing in his way.

"YOU!" the boy snarled with an animal-like ferocity that didn't belong in ten year old boys. He curled his fingers into a fist and rushed towards the man. "Give back my mother!"

The man raised his foot and firmly planted his boot into Richard's chest, sending him staggering backwards and onto the ground. He took a few steps towards the boy and dug his boot into his chest.

"You won't be killing anyone, screaming and charging in like that," the man said, grinding the tip of his boot into Richard's ribs. "Hide your presence, stay relaxed, and release your energy at the last moment as you strike."

The young boy squirmed and groaned in pain, but held back his cries by biting his tongue.

"Good mental fortitude," the man remarked, looking almost intrigued. "Most boys your age would be squealing for their mommies by now." He lifted his foot off Richard's chest and kicked the boy, sending him sliding across the dusty street. The assassin pulled out a loaf of bread from under his cloak, ripped off a piece and ate, chewing slowly as he watched Richard struggle to stand up.

Richard once again charged forward in an attempt to attack the man once more, but fell flat on his face from exhaustion and hunger, before he even reached the assassin.

"... We'll have to work on your balance there," the man said. "That's to be expected from a growing boy. Your body grows, and you need to adjust to the changes in your –"

He paused as Richard grabbed onto the hem of his cloak with an angry fist. Irritation flared up inside of him.

"We'll have to work on your manners too," he said, kicking away the offending hand. A corner of his cloak was smudged where the boy had grabbed onto it. "... But I suppose you pass." He dropped the loaf of bread onto the ground in front of him. Richard's stomach growled uncomfortably loudly.

Raw, primal instinct took over the boy, and he snatched up the loaf of bread before he could help himself. Within moments, he was wolfing down the bread desperately, not even caring that it was slightly coated with the dust from the ground.

"I'll see you again tomorrow," the man said. He turned and walked away, shimmering from sight in broad daylight.

Not before long, Richard finished the loaf of bread. He stared blankly in front of him, frozen. What did I just do? he said to himself. Tears of shame and self-revulsion streamed down his face and his body shook with sobs. He hugged his knees tightly and rocked back and forth.

The world went on around him. No one cared. He was just one insignificant speck in a wasteland the size of the universe.

Morroc Orphanage, Present

Daphne flexed her back from side to side gingerly, testing the muscles carefully.

"Is there any pain at all?" Cadence asked.

"No, thank you very much," Daphne smiled gratefully. "You've done a wonderful job."

"Nonetheless, I recommend that you take it easy," the high priestess suggested. "Although the pain and the wound may be gone, your body is still recovering from the injury. You may be more prone to sickness or exhaustion."

"I'll try," Daphne said. Cadence smiled in return.

"Then I take my leave," she bowed.

"Please, you're much too formal," said Daphne, turning around to put on a traveling shirt. "I am just a caretaker for this orphanage."

"Princess Daphne," the high priestess said. Daphne froze.

"How did you know who I was?" she asked.

"No matter what you do or where you are, we will always exist to serve you. Please keep that in mind as you travel; Grant Graves is a trustworthy, reliable man."

She stared at Cadence for a long while, then nodded.

"Farewell, princess," the high priestess said. "Godspeed." She bowed once again and left the room.

No sooner had Cadence left, Reinbach entered.

"Daphne!" he said, in a valiant attempt not to sound nervous. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you very much," she replied tersely. Her tone of voice once again turned distantly neutral.

"Listen, I know what you're probably thinking–"

"Oh? What am I thinking?" she asked sweetly, but it was clear she had darker thoughts running through her mind.

"I don't even know why that Eurie girl decided to grab my arm like that."

"Who said anything about Eurie?"

"Don't play dumb! It was clear you were thinking about her!" He knew he was right from the way Daphne balled her fists.

"Oh? And what makes you an expert on what other people are thinking?" she said stubbornly.

"Excuse me?" Eurie said from the doorway.

"Oh, give it up!" Reinbach sighed. "You've been acting weird ever since you saw her."

"Hello...?"

"On YOUR arm, if I remember correctly," the blonde witch snapped.

"Oh, so I was right!"

"Might I interrupt you?"

"We're busy right now, Eurie," Daphne said. "Kristoph and I are having a little chat. So what was that all about, Kristoph?"

Reinbach ran his gloved fingers through his blonde hair in frustration.

"Like I said earlier, I don't know why she suddenly decided to latch onto my arm like that."

"You know what?" Daphne said. "Save it. I don't want to talk to you anymore. Eurie, did you want something?" The dancer, still standing in the doorway, blinked in surprise at this sudden turn of events.

"Eh... yes! A word with you alone, please!"

"So whenever it's convenient for you, you decide to stop?" Reinbach growled.

"Out!" Daphne threatened, brandishing her arc wand. The knight's storm gray eyes blinked in surprise.

"Don't do this, Daphne."

"One."

Kristoph shook his head, then turned and left. "Have it your way," he relented.

Daphne began rummaging through the bookshelf in the room for travel items; potions, a spare wand, blue gemstones. The potions were vital in emergency situations when on-the-fly healing was required. The spare wand was a backup in case her primary wand broke or disappeared. Blue gemstones, similar to how red gemstones were catalysts for certain skills, were required if she wanted to cast certain spells. Eurie waited patiently as she packed her traveling bag, like an annoying pet waiting to be fed, or a persistant vulture circling a half-dead carcass. Maybe a combination of the two; Daphne was having trouble deciding which analogy would be better suited for the dancer.

"So," the witch said, tying her hair back into a ponytail. "What can I do for you?" In all honesty, she didn't want to help the dancer at all, but she didn't have much of a choice.

"There is a secret I would like to share with you," Eurie said. Daphne paused, then turned to Eurie, giving her full attention.

"Oh?"

Morroc palace

Sitting next to one of the high, steepled spires of the Morroc palace, Raal wrinkled her nose in distaste after sniffing her clothes daintily. They smelled of acrid smoke and burnt flesh. She sighed, pulled out a bottle of perfume from her hip sack, puffed a couple of clouds on her uniform and carefully replaced it. She eyed the wreckage of the explosion she caused earlier; at least half a mile away.

A dark figure vaporized into sight next to her. Raal languidly tilted her head to address her visitor.

"Yggdrasil's bane, Remiel. You must have scared two years off my life." If she was surprised, she certainly didn't show it.

Remiel was an assassin cross, radiating chaos and paranoia. He had dark indigo hair, curling roughly down to his shoulder blades, black irises, heavily shadowed eyes from lack of sleep, and an expressionless visage that was difficult to place an age on. His uniform, a khaki yellow, blended in perfectly with the sands of Morroc and many of the buildings. At his belt hung a pair of black Infiltrator katars. His hands twitched and moved constantly, his eyes darting to and fro.

"Is he dead?" Remiel asked. His apathetic expression indicated that there was no love lost between himself and Spider.

"Probably." Raal yawned. "I don't like dealing with corpses. Not beautiful at all."

Remiel scoffed, then muttered curses under his breath. "Should've checked... should've cut up his body into bits... then burn the remains."

"Whatever," Raal dismissed, standing up. "My mission's complete. I gave them a warning, then caused a huge scene. It's your mission later to clean up any survivors in their group, Mr. First Rank."

"Don't see why I can't do it today," said Remiel, gripping the handles of his Infiltrators. "The longer we wait, the more prepared they'll be."

"You know the leader's orders," Raal warned. "Your turn isn't until much later. We have to wait until things begin to settle down."

Remiel scowled, staring into the dying flames of the explosion in the distance. He muttered something that sounded like 'fourth ranker,' but otherwise remained silent.

Morroc Orphanage

Eurie sat on the orphanage dinner table, swinging her legs, humming an odd tune, pleasantly off-key. Sitting in a chair at the other end of the table, Nicholas tuned his harp, listening carefully to the soft twangs as he plucked the strings. He glanced over to his younger sister; they exchanged smiles, and he resumed tuning his harp. Their traveling bag lay on the table between them, fully packed.

"Ready to go?" she asked him quietly. Nicholas, being unable to speak, strummed an arpeggio chord in response. They picked up their bags, and walked to the main room of the orphanage, where most of the group had already gathered.

In the far corner of the room slouched Argos, hands across his chest. Nicholas gave him a nod of greeting. He realized that the assassin had no one to talk to in the group; being mute, he could understand what it felt to be socially isolated. Argos continued sulking in response. Not much of a response at all. The asssassin's travel belongings lay on the ground next to him. He packed relatively light.

Grant and Cadence were talking quietly near the front entrance. Most likely, they were dealing with private matters regarding the circle mentioned earlier. Cadence nodded, then left the orphanage. A moment later, from the tell-tale flash of blue light, Nicholas knew that the high priestess had warped, probably back to Prontera. Nice talking to you, too. Although he supposed that being mute, there were some things that couldn't be helped. Grant, having finished his conversation with Cadence, began studying a map in his hand with deep scrutiny.

Kristoph Reinbach was pacing agitatedly back and forth along the wall, opposite of Argos's corner. Looks like the assassin wasn't the only one in a bad mood. The knight was too deep in his thoughts to notice Nicholas and Eurie enter the room. Nicholas sat down at the table and gave his harp a few experimental plucks, strums and chords.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," Daphne said to Rachel. The young girl seemed on the verge of tears, but she sniffed and nodded resolutely. "You be a good girl okay?" Another orphan was crying in earnest, squeezing her X-mouthed teddy bear, but Rachel patted her head consolingly.

"You're not going to take her along?" Argos ventured. Daphne shook her head.

"As much as I would like to take her along with me," she said, "it's probably safer to leave her here in the orphanage for a while."

As Daphne finished saying her goodbyes with Rachel and the other orphans in the edge of the main room, Grant looked up from his map and nodded.

"Good. It looks like every one of us is accounted for. Everyone pack their things?"

Daphne looked around, counting heads as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder.

"Aren't we missing someone?" she asked. Grant nodded again.

"Unfortunately, Cadence will not be traveling with us, as she has important duties to attend to. We will be traveling in this group of six."

"Not just her," she went on. "What happened to that assassin cross earlier?"

The room fell silent as it's inhabitants realized that no one had bothered to explain to her what happened to Spider.

Argos stood up straight from his slouch.

"Right now, Spider has something to take care of," he said. "He'll be back as soon as he can."

Grant and Reinbach exchanged glances, but no one corrected him. Right now hardly seemed the best time to tell Daphne about Spider's death. It would have to wait until later, after they would arrive in Comodo.

"Well then!" Eurie said. She had stealthily managed to attach herself to Reinbach's arm once again. "Let us be off to Comodo!" An angry scowl formed on the knight's face.

"Can you stop that?" he snapped. "I didn't say anything before, but now it's getting –"

To everyone's surprise, Daphne was the one who interrupted him.

"No complaints, Kristoph!" she said, waggling a finger at him. "You need to act more like a gentleman!"

"You heard her – Wait what?!" Reinbach did a double take.

"She's our guide to Comodo! We need to be as accommodating as possible."

"But –" Reinbach cried.

"No buts!"

Eurie smiled sheepishly. "Sorry for the trouble," she apologized.

"To Comodo!" Daphne half-shouted, half-cheered.

Reinbach looked from Daphne to Eurie and back again.

"What's going on!?" he spluttered.

Morroc Residence

In the darkened, dim room of a Morroc household, a man laying down in bed groaned in pain as he emerged from slumber. He forced himself up and bit back a cry; his clothes were removed from his body, replaced with bandages covering most of his torso and his arms.

"I'd lay back down if I were you," a young woman's voice said from behind the open door of the room. The woman walked into the room, wearing only a towel. Apparently, she had just taken a shower. "I went through a lot of trouble dressing your wounds."

The man stiffened. Although he couldn't see the woman clearly in the darkness of the room, he recognized her voice instantly. She stepped closer to the injured man, into the flickering candlelight of the wax candles around him, and dug through the drawer next to the bed. Long, red, layered hair clung to her back from the moisture of her shower.

"Why did you save me?" he asked, finally.

"Why?" Colette responded. "If there was a reason... It's because I wanted to." She smiled mysteriously. "You're so cruel, Quint," she said. "I risked my life to save you from that giant explosion, but you don't even have a word of thanks." Her voice turned a little husky. "You could at least show some appreciation."

Spider's eyes narrowed in distrust.

"You realize this changes nothing, right?" he said.

"Oh, we'll see," she responded.