The grey streets of the Windmire slums were as hostile as ever. Countless poor souls were roaming the streets, eyeing each other suspiciously and clutching whatever items they had available. From time to time, a Nohrian walked up to another, stabbed them with whatever sharp tools they had and took their fallen belongings before leaving. The other inhabitants of the slums didn't react, being unwilling to risk their hide. As a result, murder was surprisingly common and easy down there.
While adults were content to be alone, children could be found in smaller groups, in the hope that their numbers would scare away more sickly members of the slum. Children who were alone were either rejected from their "pack" or were the sole survivor of an attack on their group. This was the case of a small blue-haired girl, roaming through the streets with naught but rags and a torn cape to try to get herself warm. Fear was present on her face, but she tried not to set off anyone by directly looking at them, hoping that they wouldn't take it as a provocation.
Like all the survivors, she was desperately looking for another pack to frequent, being quite aware of just how vulnerable someone her age would be in Nohr's harsh setting. However, the other children already had too many mouths to feed or didn't think that one who has already lost her companions should deserve to join their group. This made her quite desperate, scuttling through the slums like a panicked little mouse as another murder happened close to her: The victim had dared to glance at her murderer for two seconds too long.
She clumsily twirled the little knife beneath her cape. She was ready to use it to defend herself but the idea of having to murder someone was still alien to her, even after spending about six years in the slums. Stealing, though, wasn't something she loathed at this point: She could see, in the distance, some bread in a basket next to a large man. He would've perhaps certainly liked to bring it "home", but he was currently facing a small pack of desperate kids, prompting him to put the basket behind him while he was in the middle of fending off the children.
The way "packs" approached adults was simple: The younger children would plead, and the older ones would gauge how distracted the adult was. Should the adult fail to be swayed (common in the slum, where empathy was more of a weakness), then the kids would attempt to swarm him before dispersing, with the few successful children taking as much as they could before scattering to reunite later with their fellows. Those who were caught when often freed when the adult proceeded to try to give chase, and could only hope that they wouldn't sustain injuries that would slow them down.
The "attack" could happen at any time, since the young Nohrians trained themselves to have small signs or noises that they could use to signal the "offensive" (there was a reason why most of those kids, if they survived, chose the army). Beruka approached at a rather quick pace as a result but then bolstered whatever strength her tired little body could manage to outright rush in and acquire a loaf of bread from the basket while the man was busy fending off the pack. While surprised, the adult was quick enough to turn around and attempt to punch Beruka in the face, though she barely dodged and leaped into a small alley. Her would-be chaser's attention refocused immediately on his remaining bread, since the pack jumped on it, but none of that mattered to the young girl: Now that she had acquired what she wanted, they might as well not exist to her.
Running and stumbling through the trash-covered alley, Beruka carefully attempted not to stumble on something sharp, having already seen quite a few thieves fall victim to such traps despite her young age. Once she was out of the alley, the small thief sat down to make herself as unnoticeable as possible and bite into the bread, daring to take things slowly for a change. She slowly chewed through each bite, aware that a golden opportunity like the one she had would probably not show itself for a while. She even briefly contemplated keeping half the bread around for consumption later, but this would've made her a target.
Beruka devoured the bread and took the time to look up at the dark sky overhead. The weather was so hellish that she never really knew when it was day or when it was night. At times, the temperature down in the slums was atrociously high, but it settled for the very opposite the rest of the time. The sky itself didn't interest her much though: Rather, she glanced at the tips of the buildings that she could perceive. Those towering structures that stood far above the slums always interested her. They served as her only real link to a world far away. This world that she only ever heard once or twice, from the mouth of some veterans or travelers who, either deliberately or by mistake, joined the slums and sometimes shared their stories to whoever would hear them.
They spoke of things that she couldn't believe. Entire lands covered in green. Immense rocks, far taller than the buildings she could see, made out of rock and not by man's hand. A clear sky illuminated by a radiating orb. Food aplenty, various non-human beings that either dwelled on land or within the "sea", which she understood to be a mind-staggeringly large amount of water at the same place. All those things were alien to her, who only knew of the grey decadence of the slums, and she often dared to sneak out at night to interrogate a story-teller, eager to be taken, if only for an instant, beyond the squalor where she grew up in.
She wished, someday, to do that for real. She would gather enough money to make her way out and, once done, she'd travel and would see the entire world. Then, once done, she'd settle in a green land, in a quiet house, and would… would… Beruka frowned. She never really imagined what a peaceful life looked like. Even when her parents ferried her around, she was always on the move.
And ever since they abandoned her, the necessity of moving around had become more pressing. And speaking of that, she had been sitting still for about two minutes: A death sentence down there. Finishing her bread, Beruka got up and wrapped her cape around her shoulders, shivering at the cold. Now that she had been fed, perhaps she should seek shelter? Yes, this made sense. Beruka took a few steps forwards and then stopped when she heard a moan, a few meters away from her.
Turning aside quickly, the young child let out a surprised gasp when she noticed a shambling figure close to her. It was a tall yet decrepit woman, thin as a stick, and dressed in rags that were torn at a few spots, revealing a stomach so thin that she could see her ribs. Her long dirty hair covered her face but she could see two blue bloodshot eyes glare daggers at the younger Nohrian. Her face was dirty and bruised but she managed to stagger out a smile, revealing that some of her teeth had fallen off (either because of decay or because of a previous brawl). The woman was shivering, and was vainly trying to keep herself warm with her long arms.
"Your cape… give it to me…"
The woman smiled, perhaps in an attempt at looking friendly, but her attempt at an affable expression only made her creepier. And she must have been aware of that, because shortly afterward, it promptly made way for a wrathful expression, and the woman dug into her pocket to reveal a shank. It was about as dirty and fragile as its owner, but Beruka's eyes nonetheless widened in fear and she took two steps backward.
"No… can't do…" She muttered. Being abandoned at an early age and then spending most of her time in a pack didn't do wonder for her vocabulary, and she only really learned the basics to communicate. Unluckily enough, "can't do" had the unfortunate effect of easily set off the habitants of the slums, and the woman promptly put an end to the fragile negotiations by howling and running right at Beruka like a demented animal, moving with far, far too much swiftness for one has sickly as her. The young girl screamed and quickly began running away, hanging unto her cape.
She could just let it go but in the cold, whatever little comfort it could bring was vital, and she didn't know if she could so easily acquire another cape. But, looking back, the woman was quite eager to get to it, almost stumbling a few times in her mad quest to try to acquire it. Beruka was sure that giving up the cape wouldn't slow the woman down. So, she focused on the road in front of her, vainly trying to throw some objects in the way. The woman deftly avoided them though, or fell but immediately crawled back to her feet before resuming the chase.
Thin and unhealthy as she was, she was still an adult, and desperation empowered her, allowing her to break past her limits to continue the chase even when she looked too weak to even walk for five minutes. She would eventually tire out, but not before catching up to Beruka, who was too young to properly escape an adult. The orphan was particularly aware of this, and opted not to run down the alley that would lead her into the street. The woman would catch up to her before she could blend amongst the crowd and the people on the street wouldn't do anything to help her, despite her age.
So, she turned to the left and leaped above two small crates leading to a small alley, hoping that they would lead to an escape. To her horror though, Beruka had picked the wrong place: A wall stood at the end of it, with only a wooden door to the side leading to a building. The young child prepared herself to head back but the woman was already far too close for her to flee, so Beruka began to run down the alley, hoping that the woman would give up the chase or that the door would be open. Relying on the compassion of another Nohrian to potentially survive was foolish, and even she knew that, but what else did she have?
Beruka gathered her remaining stamina and ran across the alley, in an attempt to reach the door as soon as possible. She felt something dig painfully into her dirty left foot but sheer desperation pushed her to ignore it. When something cold dug into her right foot, she also kept looking forward. Behind her, the woman was already past the crates and following her, blood spurting from her feet without causing her the slightest pause. Whatever conscience was left in the woman saw the wall, and she grinned in triumph, holding up her shank. The young girl reached the wooden door and attempted to batter away at it with her left fist, while pulling out her knife.
"HELP!" She said. "LET ME! PLEASE!"
No answer. No one was behind that door or they simply couldn't care less about the tragedy happening right underneath their nose. Beruka bashed the door again but found no answer, forcing her to back off in fright. The woman was only a few meters away from her now, shank brandished, eyes bloodshot, mouth torn in a vicious grin despite the pain. By now, she probably didn't even care about the cape. Beruka considered climbing the wall for the smallest seconds but even if glass shards weren't popping out of the sole of her feet, she wouldn't be able to climb the wall in time before being caught by the woman.
Beruka painfully made her way to the bottom of the wall (digging the glass just a bit deeper) and knelt, holding up her knife. "Go away!" She yelled. "Dangerous!" The woman ignored her and raised her shank, intending to drive it straight into her heart. Beruka had seen such madness before but against different people. Her eyes widened with fear and her knife trembled seconds before impact!
"Stop!"
The decrepit Nohrian lunged forward and stabbed, but missed badly, hitting the wall and breaking her weapon on contact. Beruka was far more accurate, though unwittingly so: By leaping, the woman slammed the knife's blade straight into her demented visage, causing her diving scream to instantly make way for silence. The woman died immediately, perhaps owing to her fragility, her dead face stuck in a horrendous expression of surprise. Beruka stared at her, horrified at what she had done, and pulled the knife out before throwing the blood-soaked weapon away in disgust.
"You… you fine?" She said, the corpse weighing on her knees. She had seen death but never inflicted it. Mad at the woman was, her condition was nonetheless pitiable and the young girl saw no triumph in her victory over her. And not because the glass shards stuck deep in her flesh ensured that she was going to have severe trouble navigating around those cutthroats streets. She took a life, and it felt… odd. Her young mind could barely comprehend the idea of ending another life. Of being responsible for someone else's demise directly.
No Nohrians would be bothered by that. It was in self-defense, but Beruka still found herself weeping out of shock and sadness, grasping her attacker's face and pressing her forehead against it. "Sorry… am sorry…" She barely articulated, sobbing some more. The travelers spoke of a place where people went after death, and somewhere in her, the newfound murderer wished that it existed, if only so that people like this woman could find some solace after a lifetime of trouble.
Then, she just gave up. She couldn't move, her blood was seeping through the wounds on her feet, she lacked the mental strength to even consider walking away and she had thrown her weapon away. All she could do was stare at that harsh sky, the same one she was born under and the same one where she would perhaps die under. Heavy thoughts for one as young as her to have, but life in the slums forced one to become precocious fast, lest they never even grow up.
Then, she heard the sound of glass being crushed and lowered her head, almost yelling in fright when she noticed a figure approaching them. Her will to live overrode her previous quiet acceptance of her incoming demise and she began to reach for her weapon, in an attempt to defend herself, but the figure was faster, effortlessly reaching the weapon and taking it away from her. Bringing the bloodied knife to his face, the mysterious man now standing before her calmly observed the blade and then pocketed it.
Unusually for an inhabitant of the slums, he was clean. His skin was smooth and devoid of dirt or blemishes, his face was shaven and he had neck-length curly brown hair. His eyebrows were thin, and he looked relatively handsome and youthful, though she couldn't precisely identify his age. He looked bored at the carnage in front of him at first but then, he smiled, in a manner that demonstrated the whiteness of his teeth. This surprised Beruka, who had never seen such a clean person in her life.
He had a gray long-sleeved buttoned shirt, black pants and, notably, proper shoes, explaining just how he managed to make his way through the alley. He looked pretty but his smile was… odd. She couldn't quite explain why, but the way he showed his teeth made it look very insincere. Or perhaps it was the fact that he even smiled at all in the presence of a corpse laid on the knees of a wounded child?
"Did you kill her?" Beruka shook her head to say yes. "Awww, you poor little thing." His smile didn't drop, though his tone was sweet, and with one hand he grabbed the corpse by the hair before casually throwing her away, landing amongst the trash in an undignified manner. The very same hand that he just used was then presented to Beruka, invitingly. "Well I guess that was an obvious question. Anyway, would you like to leave this place?"
"P-place? The slums?"
"Mmmmmaybe not now but for later." He said, tilting his head to look at her. "But I can take care of those nasty shards in your feet and give you everything a poor little orphan needs."
Even she could tell that he was untrustworthy, but life was offering her a way out, and the idea of leaving the slums was tempting. True, perhaps this was all a lie. An attempt at roping an innocent child into partaking in some dark scheme, but she was desperate and in pain: She would still accept his offer even if he were a big red horned devil. Her cold, tiny shaking hand grasped his, and he used his other hand to grab her waist before lifting her off her feet, holding her like how a father would hold his child. It was strangely comforting, perhaps because she's never truly been held like this before.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"You'll learn soon enough." He said, as he began to make his way across the alley. She had more questions in mind, but was so exhausted that, despite the horrible pain at her feet, she promptly fell asleep, somewhat smelling his perfume before doing so…
…
Beruka slowly came to her senses, blinking about ten times before finally getting up. She pre-emptively winced, expecting to feel some severe pain on her feet, but was shocked to find none. Getting up, she prioritized finding out why she felt no pain over identifying her surroundings and looked down. To her surprise, her feet were fine. Some bandages were present (and it hurt a little when she pressed on them with her finger) but when she began walking, she felt fine. The very opposite of someone who ran in an alley full of dangerous sharp trash.
The room she was in was, above all things, warm. That's what took her by surprise. The warmth. It's mundane, perhaps, but warmth was a privilege in the slums. Mages with access to a fire tome would fiercely defend their kindles from whoever would dare to try to sleep next to them, and sometimes, a Nohrian who had all but given up liked to extinguish the kindles in the slums, in a spiteful attempt at dragging others into their despair. Sometimes, sleeping around a fire resulted in one's belongings being stolen by a thief, or resulted in death at worst. Warmth was easy as a pack, since the children could cuddle together, but as a loner, it was hard for the young child to be anything else but cold.
It would go without saying that the sheer amount of warmth came as a surprise to Beruka, and she very quickly got up to look for its source. The room she was in was white, almost to the point of looking sterile, but everything apart from the chimney may as well not exist from her point of view. Her purple eyes focused on the large fire within it: It was separated away from her via an iron barrier, in a wise attempt to prevent her from accidentally harming herself by getting too close to it, but she could still see it dancing inside its prison, in a way that was almost alluring to her. The young orphan scooted closer to the flames and sat down closer. She wouldn't mind never moving from her spot until the day of her death.
It was like a soft caress. Different from anything she had ever felt until now, different from winter's harsh bite or the constant feeling of having to watch over her shoulder. She almost bathed in the sensation, wishing that she would never be separated from it again. And, for a solid ten minutes, it was nothing but her and the flames, in harmony… Then, someone knocked at the door, pulling her out of her reverie. The wooden door opened slightly to reveal the man.
"You should dress up now." He said. "We've got things to discuss with."
Beruka's attention focused back on the room. It was white and spacious, with a wooden table with a rug below and a large grey bed, with some clothes on it. The small girl glanced at the pile of clothing and turned to look at her savior, but he shook his head. "I'm not a freak." He said, shaking his head. "Veronica already helped with cleaning you up."
Beruka's eyes widened a little and she glanced downward, only somehow now noticing that she was clean. Her skin was smooth of dirt and marks, causing her to look at it in puzzlement. The door closed and Beruka decided to put on the clothes, getting rid of her rags while doing so. Her new clothes were still pretty… basic, but they were in a far better state than those old rags that she just took off. It didn't look like much but compared to what she was wearing, those clothes were high-class. She also put on some shoes, and having her feet encased felt weird for her.
Upon putting them on, Beruka walked out of the room (albeit reluctantly) and could see, outside, that there was naught but the same sterile white halls. The warmness was present everywhere, and she slowly made her way over to a room in the right. She slumped forward while walking, being too used to that kind of stance to walk confidently. Her cautious body language, however, vanished quickly when she reached a room with a table full of various kinds of foods the likes of which her mind wouldn't even have been able to envision. She could see fruits (a very rare food in Nohr), but also well-cooked meat, clean water and plenty of dishes that she couldn't name but was eager to try out.
The odd man was standing at the other side of the table, and so did a teenage woman with a mask made out of black cloth. She didn't question it and simply began to eat, leaping unto a wooden chair and shoving as much food as she could into her mouth. The man chuckled, but the woman offered no reactions, though her eyebrows furrowed in disgust a little. The future assassin couldn't care less about her opinions though, and continue to drink and eat to her heart's desire. It tasted miles better than the bread that she occasionally nabbed, and she couldn't even believe that those delicacies would be even in her reach to consume. It was almost a dream come true to her. And this was perhaps why the man waited, since he knew that his words would fall upon deaf ears.
Eventually, Beruka stopped, though she yearned to continue her feast. Her small body, which was used to consume a lesser amount of food, could not digest what she just ate. As a result, the young girl stopped herself mid-eating and put her hands in front of her mouth, a few seconds away from paying the man for his kindness by unfurling her meal at his feet. Luckily, she held back, only getting away with some coughing. Seeing this, the man moved to seize the occasion.
"Now now." He said. "You're one hungry little bug, aren't you?" Beruka looked up at him, in surprise, and mumbled a timid "Yes."
He took a bite of some of the food and wiped his mouth politely, while looking down at her. Beruka observed him and then took the white napkin near her plate before clumsily imitating his movement, simply smearing it further on her lips. Sighing, the woman got up from her seat and properly wiped her mouth. Or would have, if Beruka didn't instinctively back off in fear: Allowing one to get close, when they weren't from the pack, was a great way to feel a cold blade penetrate one's flesh. However, as swift as she was, the orphan lacked the skills to properly use it, and the younger woman easily grabbed her by the wrist. And the little survivor's reaction was swift.
"NO! NO! NO! NO!" She yelled, vainly attempting to run away from the stranger's hard grip. The woman's strength proved too much for her to fend off however, and the mysterious assistant simply wiped her mouth and then sat her at the table, all while Beruka kept screaming into her ears. Seeing that her scream wasn't having the desired effect, she eventually stopped and just turned towards the assassin, her face still twitchy. He just chuckled, as if ignoring what he said.
"Don't worry, kid. You've got friends here." He said. "Who are you?"
Beruka raised her mouth to speak but then froze. She didn't exactly remember her name. Only her parents knew. The grey dredges of her memories gave her a name, that came back sometimes, but it was cloudy. Eventually though, a single name popped up…
"B-Beruka…" She said. He clapped once in answer. "Very Nohrian!" He praised. "Well, Beruka, what do you think of this place?"
The young girl looked around. "… Good." She said. He briefly looked surprised but then remembered something. "Ohhh, you can't talk much, can't you?" And on that, he was right. Beruka just nodded. "Well, I'll explain it simply. You like that?"
He pointed at the food. She nodded. Then, silently, at a fireplace and she nodded even more. Then, finally, at her clothes. Once more, her answer as positive. The mysterious individual rose from his seat and waked next to Beruka before kneeling next to her.
"If you want, I can teach you things." He gestured. "Writing. Talking. You understand, right?" She just nodded again. "Hm, not much of a talker, are you? Good. Well, this can all be yours if you just promise me one thing…" And his smile turned predatory again, but it was like he didn't want it to do that. Like even his attempt at a genuine smile felt forced and unreal. And she didn't know if he wanted it to be that way or if he was trying to reassure her. So the young child shyly shook her head. He made a genuine smile, stood up and then, as casually as one could, handed her a knife.
It was relatively sharp with a red handle, but it was also pretty easy to conceal. She studied the weapon a little and turned to look at him. "What?"
"There's a sleeping hobo nearby." He said. "I really can't stand up the sound of him digging through my trash at night and the smell… Oh. Kill him, and you'll get to have everything you want. Warmness. Food. A bed. A future, even."
Beruka's face grew shocked and she shook her head. "No." She said. Her overwhelming new conditions couldn't help her forget the face of the slain woman, and she shook her head, repeating herself. "No."
"No?" He said, before chuckling. "No? Ahhh. You think that this is… deal, right?" She would've liked to answer yes, but before she could, he rose and grabbed her by the arm as harshly as he could, pulling her off the bench. Once more, she cried in pain and surprise, but once more those screams fell into deaf air. Casually lifting her, he grabbed the knife and began to head down the hall, his smile replaced by an emotion of casual annoyance. Once he reached the door, Beruka's eyes bore witness to a random alley from the slum, and she quickly became acquainted with its cold street once again.
Gone was the warmth and the feeling of ease. She was, once more, back into the cold street. Before she could get up, her weapon fell into the ground with a quick "clang" sound, and the man simply began to close the door. "Kill the hobo before night falls or you're back to the streets." He said, before shutting the door in her face. Beruka grasped the weapon and looked to the left and right: Indeed, an old bearded man was sleeping in a bunch of trash. He was sitting amongst a bunch of trash, and had taken to wear some of the trash on him against the cold.
Beruka winced, considered her weapon and pocketed it. The sun was up, so she still had some hours. The man perhaps intended for her to do it quickly, and for a little while, she hesitated before… walking away. She missed the warmth but she didn't want to kill anyone else. Wound, maybe, but not kill. The young girl meant to walk down the street firmly, but found herself more reluctant to leave than she wanted to. It had been the first time that she felt good in a while… Was she just going to give it all up for the life of an old man who didn't care about her? The young child frowned. Yes, all life was precious. She couldn't put someone else's existence under her own.
Beruka walked out into the streets in time to witness another stand-off between a man, carrying some food in a basket, and a pack of kids. As usual, the children were standing in front of the Nohrian or, more accurately, circling him. He didn't look very worried though, annoyed, perhaps, but his smile quietly grew as the younger children attempted to bait him into giving away the food that he had in the basket. Then, with great swiftness, the man whistled using two fingers.
Out of the crowd, about two more adults leaped out, grabbing two of the children each and slamming them into the cold pavement. The "leader" of the pack also struck one in the face with a punch, causing Beruka to recoil in horror. The children who hadn't been struck immediately ran away, to the visible despair of their comrades. The three adults didn't seem willing to chase them though, being content with their catch. Several of the children screamed but no one in the crowd had stakes in the whole encounter, and the aggressors remained eerily calm despite the noises and their actions. They simply dug into their pockets, pulled out whatever good they could find and, in those cases, simply let the kids go.
"That one doesn't have anything valuable on him, boss." Said one of the adults to the boss. All three men were thin, with long beards, tired eyes and pale skin. "Take him, we'll figure out a use for him." Said the "boss". The underling hoisted the crying kid over his shoulder and all three walked out as if nothing happened. These men almost reminded Beruka of that nightmarish woman from earlier, and the memory alone was enough to get her to head back into the alley, running away from the scene urgently. She ran and ran until she took another alley, leading to yet another part of the street.
The cold was biting, and Beruka glanced down at her clothes. While she wasn't exactly dressed like a noble, Beruka still looked regal compared to the usual inhabitant of the slums. If she stayed here for too long, it was likely for her to get mugged and, since she had nothing useful on her person besides a knife, she would likely end up like that poor kid…
The young kid shook her head and simply held her arms, shivering slowly. Without her cape, the situation was just a little bit more unbearable… But still, the child refused to sacrifice someone else so she could live. Then, she began to walk, and it took her about two hours to realize that she was walking in a circle. She never outright left the place close to the man's house. Some smoke could be seen escaping two chimneys on its roof, and she reminded herself of the warmness that she felt inside, in contrast to the bitter cold that she felt.
She looked at the crowd once more and saw yet another murder. A man approached another, stabbed him, and made off with his loot. It used to be a common sight for her, but her brief experience of comfort made it even more outrageous to watch. Was she truly giving up a comfortable life to stay here? There was no future for her in those slums. Fate had smiled on her once, but eventually, there would be another encounter like the crazed woman's, and she would be left wounded and alone in those merciless streets.
"This old man would snap your neck without flinching if it could lead him out of here." Whispered a voice to her. "Kill him."
Beruka shook her head and sat down. But to her surprise, the dilemma was lesser than what she thought it would be. Her body yearned for that warm temperature and everywhere she looked, her mind saw no future. She would eventually become a corpse, or just another rotten adult barely scraping by. There was an opportunity for her to rise above that and, maybe, leave the slums for good and she was denying it? Of course, killing is bad, but that selfishness from earlier took over again.
The young child awaited, sighed, and then got up before calmly heading back towards the man in the alley. She wished there could've been a sign that it was all done reluctantly, but from the point of view of an outsider, the whole thing was done with disturbing efficiency given her age. She walked up to the man, who was still sleeping, pulled out her knife and quickly dug it into his chest multiple times. He woke up quickly but only for a second: His eyes glazed over and, after barely moving his hands to cover his chest, the old man fell aside, barely summoning the strength to moan before passing away. Beruka stood, knife bloody, and felt tears run down her cheek as she crouched over him and closed his eyes using her fingers.
"I'm sorry." She said, to the man. "Sorry… Sorry…" Repeated the child. She felt like she had crossed a threshold. Like her life had taken a pivotal point, and while she hoped that she would eventually be able to just get away from the violence, she had the disturbing feeling that she would experience a lot of it before being able to do so. The young child wiped her tears and headed towards the wooden door, trying to reassure herself all the while. The poor old man probably knew that such a fate awaited him, given his age, but it was still very upsetting to her.
Beruka knocked on the door and took two steps back. The man opened it, though barely at first, and only opened it further when he noticed that she was holding a bloody knife, though he quickly took it. He then silently headed to the alley, noticed the corpse and headed back for the young child, kneeling to her right before… hugging her. A bit too surprised, she accepted the hug.
"Now that's my kid." He said. "I thought you'd hesitate a bit more but that's good! Come on now, it's a bit cold outside!" Beruka simply quietly entered and, when he closed the door, sighed in relief when she felt the heat wash over her.
"Well, kiddo. You've passed the test!" He said. "You'll have to do some more, for sure, but…" With a dramatic arm movement, he pointed at her room. Curious, she advanced and her somewhat mournful expression changed into one of wonder. Food and water had been placed at a table near the fire (in enough quantity not to make her sick) and the warmth was back. Beruka almost leaped at it, but before she could do so, she felt a hand grip her shoulder.
"From now on. I'm going to teach you how to fight, how to speak, maybe read." He chuckled to himself. "And you'll do as I said. That's fair, yes?"
The young child smiled, her brain doing its best to erase the nastier bits, and with that, she was sent off freely to sit and dine near the flames. She couldn't help but feel a pang of disgust as she eagerly dug into the food and began to eat. But yet, it was a small voice, lost amongst a cacophony of newfound joy. She bathed in the warmth, absorbed new tastes and, for once as an orphan in Nohr, ate and drank until she felt full. This prompted her to lay on her back, close to the fire, and just close her eyes, preparing to take a nap.
And she did, for about three hours, before she felt herself being tugged. Instinctively, Beruka lashed out with her arm, as if intending to strike the target, but the person who woke her up easily countered the blow: It was that girl at the table. Looking closely at her, she had white skin around her eyes. But otherwise, she wore a concealing black suit, making it hard to identify her. She quietly let go of the young woman after grabbing her arm, and Beruka simply looked up at her, with her big bright purple eyes.
"What?" She asked.
"Your bath. Come."
…
Bathing wasn't so uncommon in Nohr. All the big cities had public bathrooms and the nobles had their own. Only the peasants in the countryside struggled with the clean water, owing to their less-than-ideal living conditions. Well, them and the people in the Nohrian slums. Not everyone was dirty but those who dwelled in the streets tended to lack the means to properly clean themselves and, in most cases, had concerns beyond hygiene, such as not dying or starving.
As a result, Beruka felt odd in the wooden tub, daring to let only her head peek around the water. Being surrounded by water (hot at that) felt odd to her, and she caught herself splashing the surface with her hand, giggling a little. A familiar hand stopped her movement though.
"Enough." Said the woman, and Beruka stopped. She was pretty bored, owing to not being able to move much: Her head was put against the lined cloth put around the tube's border, put here so that she wouldn't get herself stung with a splinter. Her long dirty blue hair was being carefully washed by the older Nohrian, who somewhat struggled with getting rid of all the dirt and crass inside. The young girl wasn't aware of it yet, but the basin behind her, used to clean her hair, had turned black. It was to the point where eventually, the adolescent let go of the young child and took the basin. At this point, the water was too dirty to be any of proper use. Beruka observed her curiously, not daring to get out.
"… Who you?"
"Wendel." Answered the girl. She opened a window, threw the water away, and closed it just before an unfortunate man outside could begin a barrage of insults. Then, she went to get herself some water, coming back after a few minutes. The assassin wondered where she had managed to acquire clean water, but she had other concerns at the moment.
"Why face…" She gestured to try to make the shape of a mask. "I have some things to hide." Answered Wendel, working on the hair again.
Beruka awaited. "You ugly?" She asked, innocently. Wendel stared at her and allowed the slightest smirk to appear on her face. "You're lucky you're not older." She said. "Well, yes, I am ugly though."
"Can I see?" Continued Beruka. "No." Said Wendel, dropping that bit of levity that she had picked up seconds ago. The orphan took that as a sign that the discussion was temporarily over… And promptly got bored again, inspiring her to engage another discussion. "You know nice man?"
Wendel went silent and picked up some scissors before cutting Beruka's hair, leaving her with her short, recognizable bob. The young girl yelped in surprise and checked her new haircut. "That'll prevent people from grabbing it." Said Wendel, offering her a minor. "A wild mane isn't useful in the line of work. And no. Mr. Goulet isn't a nice man."
Beruka just threw a sorrowful look at her discarded hair and then pondered on Wendel's answer. As much as one as young as the Nohrian could, though. "But he helped me…"
"Not because he wanted to." Said Wendel. "No one helps another because they want to. It's… not a Nohrian thing. He saw some potential in you." She began to rub the top of Beruka's hair with a towel, prompting her to groan in surprise and indignation. Once done, she pulled her out of the bath, dried her off and had her put on the same clothes as before. "And he'll use it."
Beruka contemplated her words and yawned. What had happened today had been most tiring, physically and mentally, and she found herself now disinterested in the topic that she started. "Where he?"
"On business." Said Wendel. "You should sleep now."
"Ok… night!" And Beruka simply crouched to the comfortable red floor. Wendel quickly caught her before she could start to sleep however. "What are you thinking? We sleep on beds here."
"Bed?" The teenager groaned and, with more gentleness than before, escorted her to her room and led her to her bed. "You sleep on that. Not the floor. Goodnight." And she went out, to take care of the tub. "Goodnight." Repeated Beruka, before stepping on the bed. Upon reaching its surface, she found herself overwhelmed at just how soft it was, and promptly fell asleep on a pillow. She had much to think about, starting with her two murders, but the warmness of her room, the comfortableness of the bed and her exhaustion all teamed up together to make her fall asleep in a manner that a hibernating bed would envy.
She couldn't help but think that killing gave her that. She had suffered by being an opportunistic thief, but somehow, becoming a murderer had saved her. Her empathy still told her that it was bad, but as she allowed the Nohrian spirit of rest to take his due, she couldn't help but put those two words together.
Killing means warmth.
…
"Goulet", as he was called, was harsh yet fair. He trained her to speak well and taught her how to hunt and assassinate. Her knowledge of the slums made it even easier for her to sneak around and perform her dark duties, though it took her a while before she took on bigger targets.
As far as she knew, he was a contractor of high grade. Important people in important clothes went right to him and asked him to carry out tasks, and he'd vanish for days, weeks perhaps, before coming back, usually with a generous amount of money, which he used to… remain here, in the miserable slums of Nohr, when he could easily afford a high-class home anywhere else.
This confused Beruka, and a day, after a quiet teaching session, she decided to ask him the question, pulling down her book and leaning over it. She had been toughened by the years now, but was still innocent enough to ask, with a high pitched voice… "Misteerrrrr?"
He glanced at her. "Yes, Beruka?"
"Why do you stay here? We could just leave." She said. "And go somewhere else." He didn't answer quickly, and just sighed before getting up. Beruka recoiled a little, but he didn't move to slap her, instead tapping her on the head. "Aww, Beruka. You're still wonderfully naïve." He said. "We're here because I want to. It's simple, isn't it?"
Beruka tilted her head to the left and he sighed. "I could move anywhere else in the world, yes. But it doesn't interest me. Hoshido is… too soft and weak. Heh, you can't even have ill thoughts in it, you know? There's a spell that just." He gestured to his head. "Makes you stop thinking that."
"A-aww…"
"And everywhere else just doesn't interest me… Say. Beruka, here's a question. Why do you think I chose to live here? Why am I denying the opulent opera of Cyrkensia or the safety of Macarath and inhabiting this squalor that the sun won't ever rise?"
She gave it a thought. "Money… easier?"
He laughed but the next tap was a bit harsher, causing her to wince. "Ahaha, you're going to be a very rich woman later! Well, there's that. You know, not a lot of people are born there." He said. "Some of the people here were placed there, because they ran out of money or because their political rivals wanted them humiliated instead of killed… and, heh, changed their mind."
He moved away, putting his hands behind his back. "A lot of people, like you, are born into these miserable circumstances. They have to take care of themselves very early on, and are far more capable of surviving at age 7 than many Hoshidans are in their adulthoods." He said. "And this helps me with getting apprentices."
"Apprentices?"
"You deaf?" He asked, though his "friendly" question was a bit more aggressive than he perhaps intended it be. "Like you or Wendel. See. I like to pick up kids like you because you haven't given up like those losers outside. You're filled with hope, and hope is the most powerful thing in these slums, little one. Think: What caused you to crawl through the blood-soaked mud? And what caused you to keep going days after days in that cesspool? Hope. You hope to eventually get to explore the world and settle down, so you power through whatever stands in your path, no matter how terrible it is, to reach your goal."
Beruka never thought of it this way, but perhaps, in a twisted way, she could see his point.
"The hope of getting to sleep in that warm room, doesn't that motivate you every time you're reintroduced to these cold streets? Isn't that the reason why you're even killing? Hope. It's what allows you to summon the strength to propel yourself. It's too bright of a concept for the adults to realize though." He sneered, disdain in his voice. "They just sit here and steal some bread without thinking about what to do next. And the nobles!" He raised his hands before slamming them on his hips, looking up at the sky. "They're so haughty! They never had to hope for anything because they can get anything! There's no struggle to reach for your dream!"
He eventually calmed down. "Well, and also, Nohrian kids are young and impressionable. Well, kids in general are. It's easy to convince them to do things, but everyone else in this country is too proud or pig-headed to accept a suggestion." He added. "Anyway, I've ranted enough. There's a target that I'd like for you to take out. It's a simple contract." He said, walking over to his desk and almost shoving the white paper into her hands. A man with a rather thuggish face was drawn on the upper corner of the letter.
"Take care of him." He ordered. Beruka nodded and got up, aware that he wouldn't talk to her until she was done. Nodding politely, she headed out, putting a small cape around her purple uniform for the sake of warmth before heading out into the familiar squalor again.
She wouldn't fail, she thought. Or, well, she hoped she wouldn't.
…
She had failed.
The target had about four bodyguards, and Beruka just couldn't manage to get past them. The man was paranoid after all, and each of the bodyguards saw no problem pushing away or threatening whoever tried to get close. Seeing that she couldn't hope to do any progress, she had opted to back off. Perhaps she could attempt at a later date, but it seemed that approaching alone was a bit too difficult.
However, Goulet was an observant man, and as soon as she opened the door to enter, he was standing in front of her, with his usual smirk on his face. Softly, he reached out to grab her hand and check her knife, briefly glancing at it before looking at her right in the eyes. "Beruka… oh, I don't think you were very successful, were you?"
She shook her head. "There's too many." She said, closing the door. His hand shot forward and grabbed the door though, and kept it open. His other hand moved to grasp her by the cheek and he chuckled. "Beruka, a good assassin doesn't give up." He assured. "There's always a weakness, and I'm sure that you'll be able to find and exploit it. Now go back out there and show him who's boss!"
"But… I can't. He's too wary."
"Hm, it looks like you need some more motivation then." He said. His hand moved away from her cheek and he got right back up. "How about: "You can't return until they're dead"? I won't have one of my pupils take a contract and back away. My reputation would be at stakes!" He said. "As long as the target stands on his two feet, you're not allowed here. Enough of a motivator?"
Beruka gasped and moved in to protest, but he simply brought his hand up, and she quickly backed away, recognizing the gesture. She quickly left and closed the door before sighing, wondering just how she was going to do it. The young assassin walked to get down the street but was surprised when a shadow dawned on her, and soon, Wendel was walking next to her, clad in a long black cape with a black hood.
"Stuck on a difficult contract, huh?" She said, stopping at the alley to avoid openly talking about such things in a crowd. Most people dodged the alley leading to Goulet's house. The man was feared across Nohr, or so he said.
"Yeah…" Answered Beruka.
"How about I help you then?" She proposed. Beruka glanced at her in surprise. "For this one time." She clarified, and Beruka nodded with an excited smile. "I've scoped them out. I know where they're headed, follow me."
The slums were as bad as ever, but a lot of the healthier adults and even the older kids were conscripted into the army. According to Goulet, the King had done something "very nasty" that caused another country to become upset, so Nohr had decided to hire more people into the army. This didn't mean that the slums were any less dangerous, but things were… quieter. It made it easier for assassins at least.
"Alright, move up this building and wait. I'll distract the guards, and you'll shoot him in the head while his action is focused on me."
"A-alright!" Answered Beruka. With agility, she swiftly moved up a building, using the tiny cracks along its façade and her speed to accomplish her feat before Wendel was even in place. A necessity, since the cloaked assassin moved into range. Down the street, indeed, there stood a large man, with a sizable scar on his face, and about four thugs circling him. The central man's imposing demeanor rather badly hid his limp though, and he looked almost worried whenever one of his lackeys intercepted someone. Those lackeys were, for the most part, much younger and aware, constantly observing every spot, even from above, and keeping a careful, intimidating glare on whoever dared to approach their boss.
Beruka peeked slightly from above, out of a window in a decrepit building. Wendel made her approach quickly, but one of the thugs noticed her and carefully pulled a small knife out of his pocket. So did Beruka, unwittingly to those below, though her weapon looked like a miniature tomahawk more than anything. Easily capable of killing a man, but fragile compared to even the common sword wielded by the average Nohrian. It would be unwise to use it to directly fight the guards, but luckily, her senior assassin took care of it just fine. In a movement too swift for her to follow, she grabbed the man's arm and hit him at a special spot with two fingers, causing him to scream in pain before she flipped him over her shoulder and threw him to the floor. This distracted the others just enough that, for a split second, the attention was on her. And the young assassin struck, hurling her weapon and striking the target right on the head.
"A-above!" Yelled one of the thugs, their attention shifting again, to Wendel's benefit. Thinking quickly, the assassin kicked one thug into the others, tore the bloodied weapon out of the target's head, and fled. Beruka did the same thing, and the thugs perhaps gave up the chase early, not wishing to end up killed or wounded after their boss had already been killed. Beruka and Wendel both followed their different paths before they reunited near Goulet's house.
"Thank you so m-" Beruka was surprised when Wendel put her hand on her mouth. "Shh." She said. "Just announce that you've done it."
The smaller assassin nodded and went to the door. As ever, Goulet stood behind it, vigilant. "Mister! I did it!" Said Beruka, holding up the bloodied axe. Some of the "bits" had been cleaned off by Wendel during the run. Speaking of her, she was currently standing way back, in the hope that he wouldn't notice her. However, the taller assassin briefly glanced at her before grabbing the axe.
"Wonderful, Beruka! Wonderful! You know, only needing to retry once after all those years is pretty exceptional, huh?!"
Beruka smiled, all too happy about receiving an earnest compliment, though she flinched when he tapped her shoulder, and squeezed a little forcefully. "But remember." He finished, menace just barely present underneath on his honey tongue. "You can't return until they're dead, huh?"
The young girl quickly agreed to it and, when he let go of her, she bolted out of the room like a panicked mice, quickly making it to her room and its warmth. She closed the door and slid it off, sighing slowly. Once more, the fire calmed her worries, and Beruka hopped into the bed before starting a long sleep, in an attempt to ward off her feelings about the whole situation.
…
She woke up after about four hours of sleep, rose from her bed, yawned, stretched her arms and then realized that Wendel was standing next to her. The assassin stared at the masked woman before yelping in fright, almost falling off the bed. Luckily, Wendel caught her with ease.
"I-is there an urgency?" Asked Beruka. "Problem to be solved?"
"No." Answered Wendel. "Mister Goulet is leaving again."
She jammed a thumb at the doorway, where Goulet stood, arms folded and a most mocking visage on his face. A dark bag was tied to his back, and he seemed to be in a good mood. This translated into a particularly wicked grin in his face, that he barely seemed able to contain. "I'm going to take a vacation to our dear king's castle."
"Oh, could I come?" She asked. Her rather naïve reply's answer was, first, a laughter and then a more thorough answer. "No, no. I'm going to do something pretty boring." His smirk grew. "I'm just going to… cut off a little branch from a tree." She quietly accepted the answer. "It'll take me about two days, top. The house is yours, don't ruin it!" Concluded Goulet. "See you!"
Beruka waved amiably at him, with a big grin on his face, and watched him leave. Carrying a big bag was a death sentence in the slums, but she wasn't worried about him. She had seen him in action once or twice, but the slum rabble tended to avoid him anyway. She just feared that some would try to approach the house while he was away, but Wendel dealt easily with would-be thieves. Speaking of the woman, once the door closed, she sat down on a chair and observed Beruka. This confused the youth, who expected the woman to simply quietly retire.
"I want to ask you a question." Said the woman. "Say, Beruka, why do you do this?"
"Well… because Mister Goulet gets angry when I want to stop doing this." She answered. Wendel shook her head. "No. Imagine that he's out of the picture. What would you do?"
"I'd… I'd leave the slums." She admitted. "And I'd visit the world. The rest of Nohr, and then Hoshido, huh… everything, I guess. And then I'll plant a house near the city and I'll live here."
Wendel waited patiently for her to finish and winced a little when the subject of a house outside came up. Beruka blinked. "Is there something wrong?"
"You'll figure it out when you'll get there. Anyway, I see." Wendel got a bit closer. "Beruka. I'll have to ask you something." She tried to hold the azure-haired youth's tinier hands. The assassin didn't react. "You're a skilled assassin. None of the others… none of the other pupils made it as far as you did."
"I-I'm not that good, right? You bailed me out…"
"I did but that wasn't necessary. That throw was perfect." Said the masked youth. "You're better than I was at your age, and you'll only get better."
"T-thanks?" Answered Beruka, though her confused tone changed when she noticed that Wendel brought up her past for once.
"If you ever doubt yourself, Beruka, know that you have the skills to prevail. In times of crisis, you won't be able to count on some higher force to help you, and you won't always… you always won't." She corrected. "Have a friend to help. But in those times, know that you can do it. Using your talent, you can pull yourself out of whatever mess you're in. Got it?"
The young girl didn't quite get why her ally was being this… nice, but she still smiled gladly. "Thank you…" She said. Wendel smiled beneath the mask and got up to head into the hall outside. "I'll cook something. And maybe I'll talk to you about my past." She said. "A gift."
Beruka nodded in anticipation but she first glanced at what appeared to be the first actual friend in the household. "But… you'll have my back always, heh?"
"Yeah." Said Wendel, before stepping out. The younger assassin smiled and turned towards the fire, observing it. Even amidst all the warmth, she couldn't help but be a bit suspicious of something… but why?
Heh, it didn't matter in the hand. For now, she just basked in the warmth.
…
N/A: Only Beruka for this chapter, not Corrin! You should be seeing him soon enough though.
This chapter focuses on Beruka's past, so you'll see some OCs for this one, I'm sorry about it but I hope you'll like them :p
This chapter also serves as a look into the Nohrian cities, particularly the slums. I couldn't do that in the present day because Corrin and co often wander away from the cities and into foreign territory. The chapter after this one should also show the land of Nohr in general, and why it kinda sucks!
I'm sorry if anything edgy happened in this chapter haha, I hope you liked it, and the next one! Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of it in reviews, they always help!
See ya later!