1 - Foundations
The Crimson Blade was still in the process of appointing staff from pageboys to stable-hands, cleaners to cooks and trainers to administrators.
The newfound complex had been a hive of industry over the past few weeks. Supplies had steadily arrived through the portcullis in wagonloads. Armour, weapons, saddles, equipment for the kitchens, halls, dormitories and private chambers; not to mention all the luxuries; portraits, books, wines, food. It had indeed been a busy time.
But, today was the day the boy had been waiting for. The teenage son of the guild's founder, stood admiring the individuals gathered in the missions room. He had heard his father talk about the majority of them over the past months and how delighted he was that they had considered his venture worthy of their loyalty and dedication. They would aid towards ultimately making this, Sa'themar's legacy for his son, a reality at long last. The rogues in front of the boy were the elite of their craft. These would be the leaders of groups his father would assign the more important tasks.
He kept far enough back in the room, pressed up against the wall actually, as they milled around the room, taking in its detail, its purpose, chatting and laughing amongst themselves.
His heart started to hammer as one of the individuals neared him. A beautiful blonde high elf in red leather armour with a golden phoenix emblazoned on the chest piece. Her stride was confident, powerful and utterly mesmerising. She had the bluest eyes Sauren had ever seen and a gentle smile which normally would calm the most nervous of people, but in this case, made a young pubescent boy flush furiously. He shifted awkwardly, painfully aware his bodily reaction to the woman was most inappropriate. He clutched his hands in front of his crotch, trying to assume a calm exterior.
His brown eyes darkened in panic as behind the woman a man also approached. He too, a high elf was, in fact, the woman's husband. He was tall, athletic with long dark brown hair which he wore in a high knot. His face though kindly, held a quiet fierceness which the boy just knew one did not antagonise.
They were the Firefurys. Sauren had watched them from the shadows in the upper walkways as they had trained with others within the grounds over the past few days. They were unique. Their skills so perfect, so fluid, synchronised beyond anything the young boy had borne witness to before; and he had seen many as they had all poured into the grounds seeking employment or an opportunity to define their craft.
"Hello young man," the woman said. She held out her hand to shake his. Hesitantly, he unclasped his and shook hands with her. His face reddened a little more. "I am Lina Firefury and this is Yathas, my husband." The man came forward and he too offered to shake with Sauren.
"I am most honoured to meet you," the boy said a little awkwardly but bowed before them graciously enough. He quickly clasped his hand back before straightening.
The couple smiled at him; his manners were impeccable for one so young. "So you must be Sauren, Sa'themar's son?"
"Yes, Madam Firefury." The blond youth replied.
The woman laughed lightly. The sound was quite enchanting. A small smile teased the corners of Sauren's lips.
"Please Sauren, call me Lina. And this is Yathas. No need for such formality with us."
Sauren inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Yathas then spoke, his voice rich, deep. "Are you going to follow in your father's footsteps then Sauren?"
"I certainly hope to. My father has arranged for my training to commence soon."
"Oh! Well then, would you perhaps like to also join us sometime when we do our training?" Lina offered.
The boy's eyes shone. This was an honour indeed. "Thank you very much. I would not want to get in your way, however."
"Not at all, Sauren," She smiled. "It would be a pleasure. Obviously some of the advanced things we will have to ask you to stand back from, but otherwise, you may train with us as much as you like."
"Providing your father does not object," Yathas added giving his wife a knowing look.
Sauren watched as Lina nudged her husband playfully. "Oh, I'm sure he won't." She cast a reassuring smile at Sauren. He smirked back.
"Ah, so you have met," a voice came from their right. Sa'themar Nightflame had entered the room and headed straight for his son. The man was an imposing figure, tall, strong and to some perhaps, intimidating. But this high elf, who originally hailed from Quel'thalas, was highly respected; a fair and just man who loved his son dearly and wanted only the best for him.
Sauren inclined his head. "Father," he said in greeting. The elf put a paternal arm around his son's shoulders and smiled broadly.
"Sauren is a perfect gentleman," Lina said to Sa'themar. "Most definitely his father's son."
The leader of the Crimson Blade smiled appreciatively, his blue eyes sparkling at the compliment. "Thank you Lina. He is a good boy, I have been blessed." He gave Sauren's shoulders a squeeze.
The boy's face flushed again. He adored his father, but sometimes the affection he awarded him in public, made Sauren a little embarrassed. It was not that he considered such displays of parental pride as inappropriate, but rather he hated the consequences cast upon him by some who bore witness to it. Not that there was any threat of that kind inside the grounds of the guild, but in the city, where their home had been since he was born, that was a different story.
"Would you object to Sauren training with us occasionally?" Lina asked, her smile wide.
Sa'themar seemed taken aback, but pleasantly surprised. "Well," he began, as he looked at his son. Sauren's brown eyes were wide, pleading, and the boy's perfect teeth glinted from behind his full lips. His father smiled. There was little he could refuse him. "It seems Sauren is keen to partake in your tutelage, am I right?" He pointed the question to the boy.
"Yes father, I would like that very much."
Sa'themar nodded, his long platinum hair falling forward over his shoulders as he did so. "Very well, but Brett will be your trainer for the most part."
"Of course, father." Sauren agreed.
The boy stood silently after that, listening to Sa'themar converse with the Firefurys. He tried not to stare at Lina. She was a striking woman and it was very easy to understand why she would occupy a young boy's fantasies from a sexual perspective. For young Sauren however, there was more to her than that. Yes, she made his body respond in a natural way, but it was more to do with her admirable ability as an assassin, a rogue, a spy which drew him.
The chemistry between her and her husband was also oddly stimulating for the young boy. It created a desire within him to find someone with whom he could be as in sync with as the Firefurys were with each other. They had become something of an aspiration for the boy.
Having heard his father enthuse about their abilities over recent years and how they had bonded with Sa'themar while on missions for other guilds and individuals, it still took witnessing them, albeit it just in training, to understand exactly how impressive they were.
Lina, according to his father, was already a highly adept rogue when he met her and her then new husband, Yathas, was still honing some skills. The couple requested Sa'themar's instruction and he found himself often training the two of them out with their assigned workloads. He had not, however, expected them to become so attuned to each other in ability, where each worked like an extension of the other. Their skills, timing and expertise were choreographed to perfection, quite unlike anything even Sa'themar had witnessed before or expected to evolve.
Excusing themselves after a few minutes, the Firefurys and his father then moved into the centre of the room to mingle with the other rogues. The platinum-haired boy simply watched, smiling, catching snippets of conversation here and there from the culminated group of elites.
The rogues consisted of a cross-section of races; humans from the sprawling continent of Eastern Kingdoms, high elves from Quel'thalas like his father, in the north, descendants of the reclusive night elves from Kalimdor - the once enormous continent and largest land mass in Azeroth until the War of the Ancients when it was torn asunder by the destruction of the Well of Eternity. And finally, dwarves from Ironforge and its surrounding hamlets in the snow-covered plains of Dun Morogh.
As a learned observer, Sauren noted the different traits, the accents, the manner in which they addressed each other, their opinions, their adopted strategies. There was nothing the boy did not absorb.
Another youngster came forward and stood next to Sauren. He was human, and one of the few real friends Sauren had. He was the son of the blacksmith Matthew Stanton whose skills had been hired by Sa'themar for the stables within the Crimson Blade grounds. Two years older than the half-elf, Don Stanton had been one of the few kids in the city who had stepped in when Sauren had been victim to the bullying tactics of some other vindictive youngsters.
Sauren Nightflame was a half-breed after all and some still did not accept such unions; they considered them disgusting, going against the natural way of things.
Even some individuals who came from a far less fortunate lifestyle than the platinum-haired boy also partook in shaming and humiliating him for what and who he was. Don had shown decency and respect towards Sauren, and the two quickly became friends.
Don suggested they tell Sauren's father of the abuse, but the affluent boy had refused. He was taking note of those who defiled his name, heritage even his apparel and assured his newfound friend that one day, they would regret what they did.
Now, the two boys stood side by side, quietly watching the assembly of the finest rogues in the Eastern Kingdoms. Don broke the silence. "It is coming together very nicely, Sauren." He turned his blue eyes to the half-elf and a smile which concealed a hidden knowledge curved his lips.
Sauren mouth twitched at the corners. His physical "admiration" of Lina Firefury had now subsided and he clasped his hands behind his back. Pushing himself up on his toes and down again, he rocked a couple of times, then sighed out loud. "Indeed it is," he replied, his elocution loaded with secret machinations.
By all accounts, the seventeen-year-old boy oozed a maturity far beyond his years; acquired from spending most of his young life in adult company, be it tutors or associates of his father. A mind as keenly honed as the sharpest blade, he formulated plans, which if they had not been tinged with a hint of sadistic intent, would have been seen as positively genius.
As it was, the youngling was surveying his future, his inheritance and he would covet it with a fierce determination, no matter the cost. He had not studied exceedingly hard since he had learned to read, just to sit on his highly propitious ass and watch the world go by. He was going to mould it to his advantage. He was going to be the one who all others respected. And, if need be - feared.
He had another exceptional gift, however. Patience. He would not rush blindly into anything. He was an observer, a listener and from those traits, he would devise whatever chicanery suited his purpose.
Finally, over and above all that, he had impeccable manners, charisma and a blossoming desirability, for all he was still so young. Many a young girl had been known to sigh as he passed, then giggle amidst tight little groups of friends as he flashed his brown eyes and perfect teeth in her direction.
Oh, he knew how to play it. But the play was all he knew. The deed itself was still to be done and he wanted it to be with a woman of experience. He had heard some of the conversations of the male staff and had an inkling of where to find what he sought. That, however, was by the bye and could wait for the time being. More pressing matters awaited him for now.
All in all, there were many positives which had formed his privileged and mostly happy upbringing. With a doting father, who felt the need to over-compensate for the time he'd spent away from home, he could not truly complain. "Have you completed the list?" he asked the human boy.
"I have," Don replied. "It is in the usual place. But, why, if I may ask, all the cloak and dagger?"
Sauren laughed lightly at Don's metaphor. The humour was not lost on the human either, he joined in the laughter. Sauren's deep brown eyes flitted over to where his father stood. The guild leader must have heard the boys' laughter and turned to see what amused them. Sauren merely smiled reassuringly and bowed his head towards his father. Sa'themar beamed back, his exceptionally long hair slid over his shoulder and covered his back as he returned to his elites-in-waiting.
Sauren then leaned a little closer to his friend before answering his question. "It is prudent to carry out these little exercises as they may prove to be invaluable methods of communication in the future." His perfect teeth flashed as he studied the boy next to him.
The human was well enough turned out, but there was room for improvement. His unruly hair, for one thing, needed cut. Sauren took pride in his own appearance, and he expected those close to him to do likewise. Digging into his waistcoat pocket, he produced some silver and passed it to Don in a phlegmatic manner. "I suggest that mop of yours is tended to."
Don glanced down at the money in his hand then quickly closed his fingers over it. Sauren was always generous. "I shall have it tended to with immediate effect then," he said quietly.
"Good, do so and I will see you later at the banquet." Sauren watched as his friend left the missions room.
He smirked as he saw him nearly bump into Brett Hornsby, Sa'themar's right hand, on the way out. Brett, laughing, dodged to the side as the boy picked up pace exiting the room.
He was a very tolerant man of the youngsters who ran about the place. Sauren, having eavesdropped on conversations between his father and Brett, expected the man's tolerance was partially due to an element of underlying sorrow. His wife Mary, had borne him no children, having miscarried several times.
Unlike Sauren's own mother who eventually gave birth, Mary was told there was no possibility of her ever carrying a child full term. There was no doubt, Brett was good with children and they all seemed to look up to him. He would have made a good father, of that, Sauren was certain. Yet, there was just something about the man that half-elf could not entirely warm to. It was nothing specific. He had, after all, been a friend to the boy's father since Sauren could remember. He had also, on more than one occasion, proved fiercely loyal and completely devoted aiding in Sath'emar's service. But, there was just - something! Enough for Sauren to goad the man now and again, albeit in a dangerously subtle manner.
The man walked over to him, a smile still playing on his mouth. He combed his fingers through his floppy brown hair, pulling it back from his brow. "And how are you this fine morning, Sauren?" he asked.
"I am very well, thank you, Brett. And you?"
Brett chafed his hands together, trying to warm them against the cold. His eyes scanned the people in the room until he caught sight of Sa'themar. He waved greeting. Sa'themar returned the gesture. "I am good, thank you," he replied, turning his attention back to Sauren.
"And your wife? I trust she too, is well?"
Brett nodded. "Aye."
"Hmm. I have been wondering, when are we are going to see a young Hornsby running around?" The boy turned his brown eyes to the rogue and wore an innocent smile which again, showed those perfect teeth.
The man stilled, his chafing of hands drawing to a gradual stop. His eyes avoided Sauren's, a pretence made of looking around the room once more. The subject had indeed hit a tender spot; an expression of contrition evident in the set of the human rogue's jaw.
The awkward moment was saved by Yathas who had come over to take Brett into the gathering. The man glanced back once at the platinum-haired half-elf, the question having remained unanswered - as always. There was another look in Brett's eyes, however; acerbity.
Sauren respected the man as a rogue and as his father's right-hand man. He didn't have to like him though. And there was no harm in setting boundaries, laying foundations, as it were. Even subtle ones placed now would stand the test of time.
To ensure the man did not chew over that little incident, Sauren bowed in his direction; a show of respect. As he glanced up through his platinum locks, he noted Brett's mouth twitch at the corner, then slowly the blue eyes softened as his attention was drawn to the other rogues in attendance.
The boy straightened and once more cast his eyes over the calibre of today's assassins. He smiled to himself. This was his future, his destiny. His empire.
Yes, one day, he would eventually be the leader of the Crimson Blade. And what a day that would be.