AN: Thanks to all two of you who reviewed, and please review, everyone who
hasn't. Anyway, here goes ...
Chapter Five – The Countess, Assassin's Orders
Cervantes turned to look at the man with the mask wrapped around his face, and sauntered over to him, leaving the two women lying in the wagon. He gestured behind his back, and several of Cervantes' men began to carry the two women into the cave, despite Seung Mina's attempts to resist. One of them struck her across the face. Seung Mina grimaced, and stopped struggling.
Cervantes looked back at the masked man, who simply stood there, watching the mistreatment of the women. Cervantes noticed the man's eyes took in every detail of the surroundings. He could have closed his eyes and still killed half of Cervantes' men. He was too dangerous a man to be allowed to live, and his need for money would make him tell anyone about Cervantes' hideout, for the right price. Cervantes had one more use for him, and after that ... His time would be ended.
"Assassin," Cervantes whispered. Assassin slowly turned his head towards Cervantes, ever so slightly. Cervantes could tell he was listening. "I have need of your services once more."
Assassin nodded. "Go on."
"There is a girl named Talim arriving at London Port in a very short while. I need you to bring her to me."
"That will cost you a great deal, Cervantes. I have seen this one's destiny, and for me to alter it as such will require a large payment."
Cervantes had heard it all before. "Yes, yes. How much?"
Assassin looked down at the bag he held in his hand. "Four times this amount."
Cervantes blinked. "You've got to be kidding, man. I can barely pay you twice this amount."
"Four times or I walk away."
Cervantes groaned. He knew Assassin was serious. "Fine. But I have one more request." Assassin stayed silent, so Cervantes continued. "There is a group of four men searching for the two women you brought me. I need you to eliminate all of them. Be sure you kill all four."
Assassin's piercing stare turned to Cervantes, but he said nothing.
"They are skilled warriors. They will not be easy to bring down, except for one of your skill."
"Money," was Assassin's only reply.
"Four times this amount," Cervantes said, gesturing to the bag. "Think of it, man. That's a lot of money."
Assassin turned, making a turning motion with two fingers to his five men, who left the wagon, simply picking up their satchels and preparing to leave. Assassin turned to Cervantes. "I shall think on it, Cervantes. I shall think on it while I bring to you the third woman."
Cervantes frowned. That could mean anything.
"Farewell, Cervantes de Leon." And then the six assassins were gone.
-
Talim stepped off the boat, waving goodbye to the kind captain who had let her ride on his ship from Lisbon, where she had gotten off her boat from Singapore. She looked around at London, almost disappointed. In her mind's eye she had pictured a teeming metropolis with merchants selling their wares all hours of the day and night, and people walking through the streets everywhere, in massive crowds. However, getting into twilight, the streets were getting sparse. The merchants were going home, finishing packing up or already finished, preparing for another cold London night.
She shivered. A London fog was rolling in behind her, and she was dressed in small clothes more suited to Southern Asia. Looking around, she saw a large manor rising up a short ways away and wondered who lived there. A noble? A royal? Or was it simply a rich person, whittling away at their wealth? Talim shrugged, looking around for a place to stay. She had a small bit of money, all that was left of the money she had taken with her from her home, several months ago.
She looked around, but couldn't see any high quality inns around. Moving off through the city, looking for a place to stay, she soon began to feel a biting cold coursing through her body. She shivered uncontrollably, wishing she had warmer clothes in her pack. But she didn't. Looking around, she realized that she had gone in a complete circle, back to the docks. Shivering, her body convulsing as if about to cry, she blinked rapidly, scared, then shook her head. "Come on, Talim. Crying won't do any good. Nothing to be scared of anyway."
She sniffed and wiped her eyes before walking away in a straight line away from the docks, hoping to find a place to stay away from there, not noticing that four men stepped out of an alley behind her. They were large, and used to the cold. Wearing short sleeves and pants, they followed her, one carrying a club, another a knife. Any one of them could have knocked her out with a single punch. They were men who preyed on innocents. Robbery, rape, and murder, in that order. And they were stalking Talim.
Talim stopped, looking around. This section of town looked barely different from the other one in the thick London fog, and Talim was confused. She was about to call on the wind to guide her, although she could barely feel it among the tightly packed city, when she heard a call from behind her. "Hey, you! The little one, stay there."
Talim spun, hearing the remark addressed to her, and saw two men, one with a knife, bearing down on her. Both were massive, standing a good foot over Talim. "Just hand over all your valuables, bitch, and we won't hurt you – too much."
Talim turned her head to run, but two more large men blocked her way, one with a club in his hands, slapping it ominously against his palm. Talim turned back, her hands reaching down for Syi Sarika and Loka Luha, her trusted weapons, although she didn't see much hope. As she readied for combat, the four men closed rapidly, raising their fists or weapons.
-
A woman with close-cropped white hair, dressed in a stunning black evening dress, having just arrived home from a formal dinner with the king and queen – And a good three dozen other nobles – stood at her bedroom window, watching out it, as the London fog rolled in. She watched a boat that had just pulled into the harbour, flying the Portuguese and English flags, discharge a small girl, who looked cold in the London air. The Countess frowned. As far as she could tell from looks, this was the girl she was waiting for.
The Countess turned, finding her butler standing at her doorway. He seemed to have a magical sense that whenever she needed him he appeared. "Countess," he said, with a small bow. "Do you have need of my services?"
He was a tall man, with greying hair, but although he was over fifty, maybe over sixty, even seventy – He had never revealed his age to the Countess – he still had a strong, lithe, muscled body, and he was still exceptionally handsome. She nodded. "Yes, Sir James."
It had always seemed strange to her that his name was actually James, as that was the name of all the butlers in every novel she had ever read. She wondered if it was a false name, but he had always answered to it smoothly. And the Queen of England had actually knighted him, as well, making it all the more strange that he worked as a butler to the Countess.
"The girl we were waiting for has arrived, Sir James." She always insisted on putting the Sir at the beginning of his name, although he consistently said she didn't need to. She felt he deserved the respect, after all he had done for her. "If I may, I would like to ask you to meet her and bring her here. Allow her to stay the night. I will speak to her in the morning about urgent matters. And, Sir James ... I feel it may be best if you hurry."
Sir James bowed and left the room backwards, seamlessly. Another magical butler ability of his, she presumed, smiling slightly. But then she turned back to the window and her smile disappeared. A chill wind was blowing into London, and the storm over the Channel was growing by the minute. It spanned half of France, and was expanding over Belgium, Holland, and Germany. Soon it could cover all of Europe, if it continued along its way. And it was growing in intensity so quickly that within a week, no ships would be able to cross the Channel for fear of being sunk by the elements of nature. All the foreign sailors were leaving the city. And now ... The Countess had the sinking feeling that something incredibly big was coming, that would change the destiny of many people. And the Countess would have to be one of the few people to stand up and fight it.
Otherwise, she knew, an evil would consume the world. She had felt it.
-
Talim grabbed her weapons from her belt, facing the first pair of enemies. "Oo, a feisty one," she heard one of the men say. "I like that."
Talim was about to respond when she watched a man drop down noiselessly behind the first pair of enemies, a thin sword drawn. She watched, her eyes and mouth open wide, as the man slashed the throat of one of the men, the one without the knife, the leader. Then the man – Even in the dimming light she could see he was handsome, with greying hair and a powerful body. The other man turned, and the newcomer placed his sword on the side of the man's neck, moving it to the side. The man followed it, as if drawn to follow the thin blade, until the new man kicked up to the side of the man's head, sending him spinning head over heels to the side, landing on his back. "Behind you!" Talim heard, and spun, instinctively blocking the downward strike from the club.
The new man slid his blade through the downed man's throat, then turned, running over to help Talim, who slid her other blade out and into the man with the club's stomach. She jumped to the side, tearing out his throat and spraying blood onto the ground with her other blade, and then froze in horror as the man fell to the ground on his face, clutching his neck, gurgling as he died. Talim had never killed anyone before.
The new man jumped in the way of the last attacker's fist, straight at Talim's temple. He caught it, spinning the man around and raising his hand up through the small of his back to between his shoulders, until he heard a sickening crunch as the man's arm broke. Then he kicked the man in the back, sending him to the ground, crying out in pain, and the man brought his sword through the back of the man's neck, turning to face Talim.
"Miss, are you all right?" he asked.
Talim choked. "I ... I killed someone ... I acted instinctively ... I ..."
The man took her gently by the arm. "Miss, we have to go. The streets aren't safe. Others will have heard his yell."
Talim nodded, and the man rushed away. His blade seemed to magically cleanse itself of the blood on it, and he hid it in its sheath.
"Who ... Who are you?" Talim asked him as he led her through a maze of streets.
"I am Sir James Worthington."
"You're ... A knight?" Talim asked, surprised a knight would have killed someone in cold blood, let alone three of them.
"I was knighted. It's not the same thing."
Talim looked around. She couldn't tell anything about the streets around her, only that the two of them were hurrying along the streets. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"I have been asked by the Countess to bring you to her house and provide you with a bed for the night. The Countess will meet with you in the morning to explain everything. We're here."
Sir James stopped at a door in the side of a large wall, and opened it, holding it open for Talim, who stepped inside with a murmured thank you. Sir James stepped in behind her and closed the door, barring it, then led her out and into a storage room, leading her through a series of rooms until she emerged in a massive hallway, with red carpeting and a massive set of eloquently designed stairs leading up at the end of the short hall. At the other end of the hall was a large set of double doors, obviously leading outside. Sir James led Talim, much slower now, up the stairs and into a room on the right. "In here, Miss Talim."
Talim entered the room and found it to be a large bedroom with paintings on the walls, and a large oak dresser against one wall. A window looked out over the city, and a king-sized bed with the head against one wall. Sir James gestured to the room. "I'm afraid this is the best we can offer you at this time, Miss Talim," he said.
She blushed. "Don't worry, Sir Wor-"
"Please, just Sir James, if you must call me Sir at all."
"Thank you, Sir James. This is much more than I'm accustomed to," Talim replied graciously. He began to leave, but she stopped him. "Just one question, Sir James."
He nodded. "Yes?"
"Who is The Countess?"
Sir James smiled. "Countess Isabella Valentine. Good night, miss Talim."
With that, he bowed and walked out the door, closing it gently behind him. Talim, exhausted, collapsed on the bed, barely remembering that Sir James had taken her blades for cleaning.
And in a room down the hall, Isabella Valentine looked over from the window to the case leaning against the wall. She walked to it, opening it, and pulling out her beloved sword, Valentine. She had spent the past half- decade restoring her family's honoured name, and had had no need for the sword. Now the took it from its case, and removed the sheath, pressing the blade to her forehead. "Valentine ..." she whispered, "I'm going to need your help and strength now more than ever, beloved friend. Don't fail me ... Please."
She flicked her wrist several times, getting used to the weight of the sword in her hand, then sheathed it and leaned the sword against the wall. She left the case sitting open on the floor, and went to bed. Sir James came in later and cleaned it up, as he always did when she left something out.
*
Well, there you go. Kinda longer than the rest, but whatever. I'm awfully proud of this chapter. Hope you like it too.
Chapter Five – The Countess, Assassin's Orders
Cervantes turned to look at the man with the mask wrapped around his face, and sauntered over to him, leaving the two women lying in the wagon. He gestured behind his back, and several of Cervantes' men began to carry the two women into the cave, despite Seung Mina's attempts to resist. One of them struck her across the face. Seung Mina grimaced, and stopped struggling.
Cervantes looked back at the masked man, who simply stood there, watching the mistreatment of the women. Cervantes noticed the man's eyes took in every detail of the surroundings. He could have closed his eyes and still killed half of Cervantes' men. He was too dangerous a man to be allowed to live, and his need for money would make him tell anyone about Cervantes' hideout, for the right price. Cervantes had one more use for him, and after that ... His time would be ended.
"Assassin," Cervantes whispered. Assassin slowly turned his head towards Cervantes, ever so slightly. Cervantes could tell he was listening. "I have need of your services once more."
Assassin nodded. "Go on."
"There is a girl named Talim arriving at London Port in a very short while. I need you to bring her to me."
"That will cost you a great deal, Cervantes. I have seen this one's destiny, and for me to alter it as such will require a large payment."
Cervantes had heard it all before. "Yes, yes. How much?"
Assassin looked down at the bag he held in his hand. "Four times this amount."
Cervantes blinked. "You've got to be kidding, man. I can barely pay you twice this amount."
"Four times or I walk away."
Cervantes groaned. He knew Assassin was serious. "Fine. But I have one more request." Assassin stayed silent, so Cervantes continued. "There is a group of four men searching for the two women you brought me. I need you to eliminate all of them. Be sure you kill all four."
Assassin's piercing stare turned to Cervantes, but he said nothing.
"They are skilled warriors. They will not be easy to bring down, except for one of your skill."
"Money," was Assassin's only reply.
"Four times this amount," Cervantes said, gesturing to the bag. "Think of it, man. That's a lot of money."
Assassin turned, making a turning motion with two fingers to his five men, who left the wagon, simply picking up their satchels and preparing to leave. Assassin turned to Cervantes. "I shall think on it, Cervantes. I shall think on it while I bring to you the third woman."
Cervantes frowned. That could mean anything.
"Farewell, Cervantes de Leon." And then the six assassins were gone.
-
Talim stepped off the boat, waving goodbye to the kind captain who had let her ride on his ship from Lisbon, where she had gotten off her boat from Singapore. She looked around at London, almost disappointed. In her mind's eye she had pictured a teeming metropolis with merchants selling their wares all hours of the day and night, and people walking through the streets everywhere, in massive crowds. However, getting into twilight, the streets were getting sparse. The merchants were going home, finishing packing up or already finished, preparing for another cold London night.
She shivered. A London fog was rolling in behind her, and she was dressed in small clothes more suited to Southern Asia. Looking around, she saw a large manor rising up a short ways away and wondered who lived there. A noble? A royal? Or was it simply a rich person, whittling away at their wealth? Talim shrugged, looking around for a place to stay. She had a small bit of money, all that was left of the money she had taken with her from her home, several months ago.
She looked around, but couldn't see any high quality inns around. Moving off through the city, looking for a place to stay, she soon began to feel a biting cold coursing through her body. She shivered uncontrollably, wishing she had warmer clothes in her pack. But she didn't. Looking around, she realized that she had gone in a complete circle, back to the docks. Shivering, her body convulsing as if about to cry, she blinked rapidly, scared, then shook her head. "Come on, Talim. Crying won't do any good. Nothing to be scared of anyway."
She sniffed and wiped her eyes before walking away in a straight line away from the docks, hoping to find a place to stay away from there, not noticing that four men stepped out of an alley behind her. They were large, and used to the cold. Wearing short sleeves and pants, they followed her, one carrying a club, another a knife. Any one of them could have knocked her out with a single punch. They were men who preyed on innocents. Robbery, rape, and murder, in that order. And they were stalking Talim.
Talim stopped, looking around. This section of town looked barely different from the other one in the thick London fog, and Talim was confused. She was about to call on the wind to guide her, although she could barely feel it among the tightly packed city, when she heard a call from behind her. "Hey, you! The little one, stay there."
Talim spun, hearing the remark addressed to her, and saw two men, one with a knife, bearing down on her. Both were massive, standing a good foot over Talim. "Just hand over all your valuables, bitch, and we won't hurt you – too much."
Talim turned her head to run, but two more large men blocked her way, one with a club in his hands, slapping it ominously against his palm. Talim turned back, her hands reaching down for Syi Sarika and Loka Luha, her trusted weapons, although she didn't see much hope. As she readied for combat, the four men closed rapidly, raising their fists or weapons.
-
A woman with close-cropped white hair, dressed in a stunning black evening dress, having just arrived home from a formal dinner with the king and queen – And a good three dozen other nobles – stood at her bedroom window, watching out it, as the London fog rolled in. She watched a boat that had just pulled into the harbour, flying the Portuguese and English flags, discharge a small girl, who looked cold in the London air. The Countess frowned. As far as she could tell from looks, this was the girl she was waiting for.
The Countess turned, finding her butler standing at her doorway. He seemed to have a magical sense that whenever she needed him he appeared. "Countess," he said, with a small bow. "Do you have need of my services?"
He was a tall man, with greying hair, but although he was over fifty, maybe over sixty, even seventy – He had never revealed his age to the Countess – he still had a strong, lithe, muscled body, and he was still exceptionally handsome. She nodded. "Yes, Sir James."
It had always seemed strange to her that his name was actually James, as that was the name of all the butlers in every novel she had ever read. She wondered if it was a false name, but he had always answered to it smoothly. And the Queen of England had actually knighted him, as well, making it all the more strange that he worked as a butler to the Countess.
"The girl we were waiting for has arrived, Sir James." She always insisted on putting the Sir at the beginning of his name, although he consistently said she didn't need to. She felt he deserved the respect, after all he had done for her. "If I may, I would like to ask you to meet her and bring her here. Allow her to stay the night. I will speak to her in the morning about urgent matters. And, Sir James ... I feel it may be best if you hurry."
Sir James bowed and left the room backwards, seamlessly. Another magical butler ability of his, she presumed, smiling slightly. But then she turned back to the window and her smile disappeared. A chill wind was blowing into London, and the storm over the Channel was growing by the minute. It spanned half of France, and was expanding over Belgium, Holland, and Germany. Soon it could cover all of Europe, if it continued along its way. And it was growing in intensity so quickly that within a week, no ships would be able to cross the Channel for fear of being sunk by the elements of nature. All the foreign sailors were leaving the city. And now ... The Countess had the sinking feeling that something incredibly big was coming, that would change the destiny of many people. And the Countess would have to be one of the few people to stand up and fight it.
Otherwise, she knew, an evil would consume the world. She had felt it.
-
Talim grabbed her weapons from her belt, facing the first pair of enemies. "Oo, a feisty one," she heard one of the men say. "I like that."
Talim was about to respond when she watched a man drop down noiselessly behind the first pair of enemies, a thin sword drawn. She watched, her eyes and mouth open wide, as the man slashed the throat of one of the men, the one without the knife, the leader. Then the man – Even in the dimming light she could see he was handsome, with greying hair and a powerful body. The other man turned, and the newcomer placed his sword on the side of the man's neck, moving it to the side. The man followed it, as if drawn to follow the thin blade, until the new man kicked up to the side of the man's head, sending him spinning head over heels to the side, landing on his back. "Behind you!" Talim heard, and spun, instinctively blocking the downward strike from the club.
The new man slid his blade through the downed man's throat, then turned, running over to help Talim, who slid her other blade out and into the man with the club's stomach. She jumped to the side, tearing out his throat and spraying blood onto the ground with her other blade, and then froze in horror as the man fell to the ground on his face, clutching his neck, gurgling as he died. Talim had never killed anyone before.
The new man jumped in the way of the last attacker's fist, straight at Talim's temple. He caught it, spinning the man around and raising his hand up through the small of his back to between his shoulders, until he heard a sickening crunch as the man's arm broke. Then he kicked the man in the back, sending him to the ground, crying out in pain, and the man brought his sword through the back of the man's neck, turning to face Talim.
"Miss, are you all right?" he asked.
Talim choked. "I ... I killed someone ... I acted instinctively ... I ..."
The man took her gently by the arm. "Miss, we have to go. The streets aren't safe. Others will have heard his yell."
Talim nodded, and the man rushed away. His blade seemed to magically cleanse itself of the blood on it, and he hid it in its sheath.
"Who ... Who are you?" Talim asked him as he led her through a maze of streets.
"I am Sir James Worthington."
"You're ... A knight?" Talim asked, surprised a knight would have killed someone in cold blood, let alone three of them.
"I was knighted. It's not the same thing."
Talim looked around. She couldn't tell anything about the streets around her, only that the two of them were hurrying along the streets. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"I have been asked by the Countess to bring you to her house and provide you with a bed for the night. The Countess will meet with you in the morning to explain everything. We're here."
Sir James stopped at a door in the side of a large wall, and opened it, holding it open for Talim, who stepped inside with a murmured thank you. Sir James stepped in behind her and closed the door, barring it, then led her out and into a storage room, leading her through a series of rooms until she emerged in a massive hallway, with red carpeting and a massive set of eloquently designed stairs leading up at the end of the short hall. At the other end of the hall was a large set of double doors, obviously leading outside. Sir James led Talim, much slower now, up the stairs and into a room on the right. "In here, Miss Talim."
Talim entered the room and found it to be a large bedroom with paintings on the walls, and a large oak dresser against one wall. A window looked out over the city, and a king-sized bed with the head against one wall. Sir James gestured to the room. "I'm afraid this is the best we can offer you at this time, Miss Talim," he said.
She blushed. "Don't worry, Sir Wor-"
"Please, just Sir James, if you must call me Sir at all."
"Thank you, Sir James. This is much more than I'm accustomed to," Talim replied graciously. He began to leave, but she stopped him. "Just one question, Sir James."
He nodded. "Yes?"
"Who is The Countess?"
Sir James smiled. "Countess Isabella Valentine. Good night, miss Talim."
With that, he bowed and walked out the door, closing it gently behind him. Talim, exhausted, collapsed on the bed, barely remembering that Sir James had taken her blades for cleaning.
And in a room down the hall, Isabella Valentine looked over from the window to the case leaning against the wall. She walked to it, opening it, and pulling out her beloved sword, Valentine. She had spent the past half- decade restoring her family's honoured name, and had had no need for the sword. Now the took it from its case, and removed the sheath, pressing the blade to her forehead. "Valentine ..." she whispered, "I'm going to need your help and strength now more than ever, beloved friend. Don't fail me ... Please."
She flicked her wrist several times, getting used to the weight of the sword in her hand, then sheathed it and leaned the sword against the wall. She left the case sitting open on the floor, and went to bed. Sir James came in later and cleaned it up, as he always did when she left something out.
*
Well, there you go. Kinda longer than the rest, but whatever. I'm awfully proud of this chapter. Hope you like it too.