Author's Note: Chapter 02 is finally completed. I deserve a cookie for finally getting around to it... No cookies? Fine, be that way. Chapter 03 is in the works now. In case you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm an infamous procrastinator. I assure you though, I'll be much better about updates from now on.
For those of you who know me from XiLeRO or EuphRO, you'll probably recognize the two young Swordsmen in the middle of this story, heh heh. It's just a little cameo appearance for characters belonging to me and a friend, so don't get too attached to the Swordies. Anyway, please read and review, as usual; your feedback is my motivation.
Chapter Status: Final Version
Chapter 02
The Departure
It had been the break of dawn when Syffer set out across the Sograt Desert, having had a restless night after his long discussion with The Chief. Syffer's mind wandered to the day before as he continued his steady pace across the tides of sand that lay before him. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon after his encounter with Solstice dashing through the desert, training his body to endure long periods of harsh conditions; he made a point of continually pushing himself to his limits. As dusk fell and the evening winds picked up, the Assassin had made his way back to the guild headquarters and smirked upon seeing he had won the race against the setting sun.
Ascending the steps to the entrance of the Assassin Guild HQ, Syffer had recognized the proceedings around the structure as routine, his emerald eyes perusing the activities of his fellow Assassins: He had seen a few Assassins stride out of the exit on the lower level to the subterranean tunnel leading to the mission assignment office, another group across the upper tier was engaged in dagger-throwing training, and the majority of the guild could be found dispersed across the tiers either talking to comrades or keeping to themselves near a wall, among them his friend Kavvin who had spoken to him prior to his vacation into the desert. It had been odd to imagine that today would be different from any other with this common scene set before him.
When he had reached the upper level and entered the office of the Guild Master, he sighed and grinned, knowing how this exchange would go even before it started. While the Guild Master held the highest office in the guild and was in fact in charge of training Thieves yearning to become Assassins, the body of the guild recognized his authority only in name; this of course gave the Guild Master no end to his frustration as The Chief was more respected than he. This was in part due to the fact that he looked more suiting of the position of Chancellor to King Tristam III than of the head of an organization of killers.
The Guild Master was an older gentleman with a scrutinizing gaze and a constantly furrowed, grey brow, whose choice of attire consisted of a flowing regal robe, colored a majestic purple. His most outstanding feature, however, was his long, crooked nose which seemed to curve down much like the beak of a bird; for this reason, many of the Assassins in the guild referred to him as "Crow" behind his back, in spite of his demands to be addressed "Guild Master" or "Leader".
Syffer had bowed before his superior and cleared his throat, mentally preparing himself to present his proposition. The last thing he had wanted to do was have to kiss this guy's ass to leave the desert.
Profession guilds differed from independent guilds in that the membership was comprised almost entirely of the respective profession, and focused on affairs that would assist in propagating the class. To be recruited into a profession guild's ranks right from promotion to its profession was no small feat, and as such one had to walk on eggshells to avoid giving the higher-ups any cause to reconsider one's membership. Syffer had known well that being ousted from the Assassin Guild was the last thing he needed on his record.
"Leader, I have asked for an audience with you this evening in regards to the bounty on the Biochemist known as Solstice."
"Ah yes, I heard that you gave the lass quite a run for her money," the Guild Master commented in a slow, deliberate tone.
"I am aware that I am to speak with you for permission to take a leave from the guild for an indefinite, extended period of time, should circumstances take me outside of Sograt for reasons other than to pursue a bounty."
Syffer's throat had dried up quickly, and he had noted that he was uneasy making such a bold request. Assassins only ever left the desert for two reasons: to pursue a hit outside of the region, and to leave the guild in order to pursue their own motives. The elder had smiled wryly at Syffer's careful choice of words to address this issue.
"Syffer, my lad, I know that there are other things troubling your mind. This is the first time that you've ever had to chase a bounty after the first fight, isn't it?
Syffer had nodded slowly. Indeed he had been on hits outside of the desert before, but he had always finished the job on the first encounter and never thought twice about diverting from his path back to base to file his report. Solstice, however, had been the one that got away, and in order to find her he would have to explore the realm of Rune-Midgard rather than following a predefined path or set of instructions. This mission was his chance to freely roam the land.
"Gather up your supplies and try to get some rest this evening. You have my permission, Syffer."
The Guild Master had crossed his arms and smirked. Syffer looked up at the Guild Master in awe; for him to have granted permission without so much as a minute of thought utterly shocked the silver-haired Assassin.
"I'm hardly one to keep you from pursuing whatever's bothering you. I have more faith in you than I have in most of the others, I'm sad to say. When you finish the job and the time comes to come file your report, I know you'll do what's right, lad."
Syffer had swallowed dryly and bowed before the Guild Master, giving his humble thanks. He had known all too well exactly what the old crow meant by "what's right".
Syffer recalled sitting at the bottom of the Assassin Guild HQ's steps afterward, having packed the supplies he would need for his trip, including his poisons and maps of the Rune-Midgard realm, into a series of small pouches that he would be able to conceal in the pockets across his outfit, and stowing them away beneath his bunk in the barracks. The torches lining the stairs up the ziggurat of the guild HQ had been lit, and the stars had finally begun to appear in the night sky. The moon had been hidden behind a stray cloud in an otherwise cloudless sky. Many of the Assassins had turned in for the evening and only a few could be seen wandering the base grounds, like so many nameless nomads. Syffer's ear had twitched as he sensed a footfall in the sand approaching him, and he had turned to see The Chief standing over him.
"Oh, Chief. What brings you out here tonight? Office closed?"
The veteran had given a huff of a light laugh and leaned back against the wall beside Syffer, running a hand over one of the scars on his cheek as if reminiscing.
"Yes, just thought I'd come have a word with you before I called it a night. You've… certainly become a strong lad over the years, Syffer."
The young Assassin had just stared at his elder and listened intently as the wind blew his spiky hair like blades of grass. The Chief had chuckled and glanced down at Syffer, his dark brown eyes hiding more troubling thoughts of the past from his young protégé.
"You know that your father and I were good friends, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"He never did like the career path I followed. He even tried to guilt me into not following the path of the Assassin. Through it all though, we stayed good friends, and we looked out for each other."
Syffer had given a slight smile.
"You two were close," Syffer had said.
"Yes. He also asked me to look after you, should anything happen to him. I just… didn't think things would turn out the way they did."
Silence had lingered between them. The Chief had reached into a pouch on his waist and pulled out a pair of pauldrons and held them out to Syffer.
"Here, take these. I know it's not much, but you should arm yourself against anything if you're going out into the world. I take it the old geezer twisted your arm to come back here once you've taken out that Creator?"
"The Guild Master? Yes, he has a way with words so as to dress up 'get your ass back here when you finish'."
Syffer had laughed lightly.
"But old geezer? With all due respect, Chief, you're no picture of youth yourself."
The Chief had given him a wry smile.
"Ha, you're like your old man. Don't be a smartass though; I'm on your side. Anyway, don't let the Guild Master pressure you into anything. I know you've got a lot on your mind now that you've considered exploring Midgard, and personally I think you should just leave and not give a second thought to this place. But should you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me. I'll make sure you have intelligence scouts available to you at almost every city."
Syffer had smiled in appreciation of his friend and mentor's concern, and it had been comforting to know that he would have support on this trip across the land.
"Syffer," The Chief began, "you can't keep dwelling on the past. I know you're using the bounty on this girl as an excuse to get out of the desert and find the answers you're looking for."
Syffer had gazed out into the distance, remaining silent as the old Assassin spoke.
"I know it's no picnic talking to Crow just to cover your own back. But you and I both know if you hadn't spoken to him and he thought you were leaving to find another guild, he'd have cut your ties to the Assassin Guild and I wouldn't even be able to offer you support."
The young Assassin had nodded, clearing his throat to speak again.
"Yeah… sometimes though, I wonder if I should be doing this on my own. I mean, what will I do if I do manage to capture her and I've yet to learn what I wanted? I can't just drag her around with me and keep an eye on her constantly."
The Chief had grunted as he sat down beside Syffer, scratching the stubble on his chin.
"Syffer, that's something you'll have to figure out once the time comes."
He had grinned and knocked on the young man's head.
"You're crafty, quick on your feet. You get that from your father. You'll come up with something."
He and The Chief had spoken for hours into the twilight while the winds kicked sand up in the distance as the night drew late. The next morning, Syffer had found himself exhausted from lack of sleep, but he had refused to delay his departure any longer.
Syffer cleared his thoughts and shifted his focus back to the present, amazed at how much of his journey he had already made while lost in his thoughts. He was even more so amazed by the fact that he hadn't fallen into an ant-pit or wandered into a pack of wolves. He now donned the leather shoulder pads that his superior provided for him out of concern, becoming irritated by the scent of the raw leather after hours of exposure to the heat. It made his stomach churn slightly, but he tried not to dwell on the insignificant things as the matter of reaching Prontera was still at hand. Hours had passed since the young Assassin departed, and the sun now lingered in the sky high above him and let its heat beat down on the tan skin of the traveler. The dry winds blew the sand around the den of the ants about in a flurry as Syffer passed the maw-like entrance to the creatures' caverns below, into which many of the large scavenging insects were filing with their spoils of the day.
Perhaps the sun was playing fool with his eyes, or maybe the heat had finally begun to wear on his mind, but Syffer could swear one of the large fang-like formations surrounding the Anthell moved ever so slightly. He soon shrugged it off as exhaustion and unscrewed the cap to his water canteen, lifting the container to his lips and tilting it back; sweet relief came as the cool fluid hit the back of his dry throat. As he sighed and returned the canteen to his pocket, he paused in his stride to examine his surroundings. Syffer had noticed about half an hour ago that the endless dunes had begun to taper off into long patches of sandy dirt, with sprouts of vegetation and tall palm trees gracing every few yards with their presence.
'I must be nearing the edge of the desert. The sands are yielding to plant life. It's only a matter of time until I arrive in Prontera.'
Syffer pulled his map from his hip pocket, unfolding the tattered paper and analyzing the markings. The common traveler would bless the sight of grass as a release from the torment the Sograt Desert visited upon him or her, as the Sograt sand did not absorb the sun's heat, but rather reflected it back onto those who treaded upon it. Syffer chuckled at this thought, finding it humorous how many would consider the desert a wasteland, whereas to him it was a sanctuary. According to his map, another half hour of walking would bring him to the border of the sandy landscape, which the Assassin passed by recollecting the fight with Solstice yesterday in an attempt to improve on his methods for the next encounter.
Sure enough by the end of another thirty minutes the green grass covered the ground entirely and the palm trees were replaced by more temperate species. The air felt cooler here, and the wind blew not in harsh gusts but rather gentle breezes. The scenery was, he admitted, a refreshing change from the endless desert Syffer had grown accustomed to.
'Perhaps The Chief was right. I needn't rush myself on this mission. I seldom get to enjoy the beauty of the land on outside hits.'
Syffer slowed his pace for the first time since leaving Morroc, no longer in a race against the exhaustion brought on by extended periods of time in the desert. The Assassin strode across Prontera's southern field, smirking as he watched the cheery native Porings hop innocently about with their ever-smiling expressions hinting at not even the slightest care in the world. Syffer had always found the naïve, gumdrop-like creatures peculiar, and questioned what niche they served in nature; though if nothing else, they had certainly earned popularity among pet collectors the world over.
A lone Fabre inched down a tree as Syffer passed it, and he paused to glance from the caterpillar creature to the surrounding trees, noting that the forestry was growing denser as he ventured forth.
'Seems I'll have to pass through these woods. Better stay on guard.'
A certain anxiety came over Syffer as he treaded cautiously through the thick foliage, though he could not detect any imminent danger. Though he was relieved that the sickly scent of his leather pauldrons had subsided with the change in climate, it seemed that one ill circumstance deserved to replace another in his case. It was like to a feeling of déjà vu, and a sense of familiarity with the woods around him, though not welcome to the silver-haired Assassin.
'This place… I have been here before.'
Syffer's eyes narrowed as he heard a twig snap and leaves rustle up ahead of him, and he instinctively cloaked into his environment. Virtually invisible, he moved swiftly through the woodlands, approaching the source of the disturbance while keeping a close proximity to the bases of the trees. After about a minute, Syffer reached a small clearing in the center of the woods wherein a young man stood, likely of the age of sixteen or so, clutching a large, gleaming, two-handed sword in his gauntlets. Syffer pressed his back to the nearest tree and remained concealed in the shadows, observing the teen carefully.
The person's back faced Syffer, making his facial features indiscernible for the moment, though the Assassin could still gather the young man's occupation. The boy seemed, from his attire and the weapon he wielded, to be a Swordsman. His torso was dressed with what appeared to be tanned, leather under-armor beneath a layer of ring mail covering his arms and upper body. On his shoulders rested a simple muffler to serve as a mantle, over which the strap of his long sword's sheath looped to support the empty holster on his back. Though the lad's upper body was well-protected, his pants looked to be nothing more than a simple, blue cloth, ending at a pair of ragged hiking shoes with iron plates covering the feet.
The young Swordsman put his right foot back and held his blade up beside his face on the right side, balancing it horizontally and pointing out in front of him in a combat stance. Syffer watched from the shadow of the tree as the boy began a series of swordplay exercises, charging and thrusting at the air with a shout before pulling his sword back diagonally in front of him, as if to block an oncoming attack. He ducked to the right and quickly brought his weapon up from the right side in a graceful slash through the air. Syffer was intrigued by the quiet confidence about this young man, and the understanding of the sword he demonstrated that seemed almost inherent as he swung his sword not as a mere weapon, but as an extension of himself.
Watching the familiar movements, Syffer's breath suddenly caught in his throat in a sharp gasp, and his eyes opened wide while the pupils contracted to barely the tip of a needle in size. The Assassin panicked and clutched at the tree to steady himself, caught off-guard by the sudden panic attack.
'N-no, what?! I can't… breathe!'
Sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart began to race as images flashed through his mind. He saw the warm smile of a friend, whose lips moved to say something inaudible to him now. An older man bowed graciously before a figure clad in plate mail armor as Syffer watched on from behind. Another image, a sword was placed in Syffer's palms, and great joy filled him. A split-second later, the joy was replaced by anger as he saw hands around an indistinguishable person's throat. Despair soon followed, as another older fellow looked down on him and shook his head with a distraught expression.
Syffer gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, clearing the images from his mind with a deep breath. The Assassin's heart was still beating quickly, though he tried to calm himself. He shook off the panic and groaned.
'What was that? Got to get your head on straight, Syffer.'
He watched the remainder of the Swordsman's form as he allowed his body to recover from the shock of his episode, composing himself to approach the young warrior. Though he did indeed have his own map, he had been walking through the woods for a few minutes, and was uncertain of his direction in respect to Prontera; perhaps asking this boy for directions would allow Syffer to get his bearings straight. After considering this for a moment, the Assassin finally left the concealment of the tree and his cloaking technique, carefully stepping out into the clearing to hail the Swordsman.
"Pardon me, do you think you could point me in the right direction?"
The young man turned his head to glance at Syffer, curiosity in his eyes.
"Hmm?"
He rested the tip of his blade in the soft earth, placing both hands on the hilt and facing the Assassin. The lad was well-built for someone aspiring to wield the blade, likely having toned himself with rigorous physical training, yet still limited by his fading adolescence. He was much lighter-skinned than the desert Assassin, leaving Syffer to assume that the Swordsman was a native of Prontera or another central city. Fiery red hair fell lazily about the young man's head down to his cheekbones, well-trimmed save for the bangs which were left long on the left side and covered his eye. Syffer chuckled to himself and was tempted to ask the Swordsman whether the look impaired his vision, but decided against it as he remembered he needed information and putting the Swordsman in a bad temper would not help in attaining his goal.
The young man wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm and looked in Syffer's direction through azure blue eyes, nodding slowly.
"Yeah sure, where are you trying to get to?"
His voice was clear and kind, and beginning to deepen with age. Syffer crossed his arms and kept his head tilted down in an attempt to hide any traces of his episode that may have remained on his features.
"I need to get to Prontera. Do you know which way is north?"
The Swordsman blinked, at least his right could be seen to blink, and tilted his head to one side, reaching deep into a pouch on his waist to withdraw a compass. Syffer was shocked to see such a young adventurer with so expensive a piece of equipment.
"That compass… where did you come across that?"
The boy looked up and smirked, laughing a bit at the Assassin's reaction.
"What, this old thing? It was a gift from my father. If you really need one and you have a big wallet, I'm sure you could purchase one in Al de Baran."
Syffer's suspicions were confirmed by the Swordsman's words. Compasses were relatively new devices in Rune-Midgard, and so rare due to the fact that only the engineers in Al de Baran had the supplies or the expertise required to craft them. For this reason, a compass fetched a hefty price on the market, making those who carried the trinkets targets for every Thief and Rogue that crossed their paths. The young warrior turned around slowly and glanced down at his device, stopping upon finding his mark. He stretched an arm out and pointed in the direction his compass had pointed, lifting his sword up in his free hand to rest on his shoulder.
"Head this way through those two trees and just keep going straight through. You should come to a beaten path once you exit the woods, which will take you straight to Prontera's gates."
Syffer nodded and glanced off in the direction the Swordsman had pointed out, taking a step forward before pausing again.
"Thank you. Oh, and please do not let a soul know that you saw me here."
With that the Assassin followed the warrior's directions out of the woods, with said warrior watching him go while pondering his cryptic request. He found it odd, though after only a moment's thought dismissed it, knowing that Assassins were known to be secretive for reasons relating to their occupation. As Syffer disappeared from the Swordsman's sight, the boy lifted his sword from his shoulder and held it up in the air to inspect it, smiling at the fine gleam he had polished into it that morning. The bushes behind him rustled, drawing the attention of his sharp senses. He spun around and held his blade before him in a defensive stance, waiting for the potential threat to reveal itself. With a groan and an exhausted sigh, another Swordsman tumbled out of the brush, twigs and leaves protruding from his dusty brown, unkempt locks that pointed in every direction, adding to the mess he called hair. The red-haired Swordsman chuckled and sheathed his sword, moving over to help his companion up.
"Ryeneker, you'll find your motivation yet, won't you? I've been out here since early this morning fighting unseen targets, and here you come at nearly noon. Didn't you say that you were going to start rising to train with me only last night?"
The one called Ryeneker took his friend's hand and slowly stood, brushing some leaves and dirt from his clothing and smirking nervously.
"Not everyone can rise as early as you do, Damien. I spoke with Claire last night, and while someone was obsessed with sword techniques, I was trying to charm her late into the evening."
Damien gave a smug grin.
"Ryeneker, that miss Claire is engaged. Even were that not the case, she'd have no interest in fresh-faced lads like us."
The young Swordsmen laughed and slipped into casual conversation, though Damien glanced off in the direction that Syffer had wandered. Ryeneker raised a brow and looked in the direction his friend was, scratching the back of his head.
"Hey Damien, something over there?"
The red-haired Swordsman shook his head and turned to face Ryeneker again, laughing nervously.
"Nothing, it's nothing. I just got lost in my thoughts, I suppose. Come then, let's work on the form from yesterday where we slipped up."
Ryeneker nodded as they both drew their weapons, eager to continue their diligent training in the way of the sword.
Further off, Syffer was nearing the gates of the capitol city of Rune-Midgard, Prontera. Already he could see the prominent walls that stood defiant to the serene nature around it, as well as the gate guards who held their ground at the small post set beside the entryway. Syffer took a deep breath as he pulled his mask up over his mouth and nose to conceal his identity from the many travelers and citizens alike that were filing in and out of the main gates. Already, before he had even reached the gate, the air felt charged with the energy of people going about their lives, enjoying the pleasures of simple life, and that of the many adventurers who were eager to set out so that they might defy death once more.
Syffer nodded a simple greeting to the gate guards who stood steadfast with lances in hand at their posts, to which they each responded with a salute. The Assassin stood in the center of the main street of the bustling city, his eyes scanning his surroundings. The roads through the city were all composed of some mixture of grey-white marble and coarse stone, all converging on the beautiful fountain in the center of Prontera atop which a statue of the All-Father God, Odin, sat on his horse Sleipnir. The houses and buildings were built in the still-popular medieval structure style, with balconies to overlook the buzzing market lining the streets. Every half block on either side of the street, a pair of solid stone pedestals was rooted in place, with tall light posts extending from the stands and flying banners marked with the proud seal of the Rune-Midgard kingdom. People stirred about on their daily activities, and the city itself felt alive to Syffer.
'I've arrived in Prontera at last. No time to dawdle. I must gather whatever information I can on the whereabouts of this woman, Solstice.'
The young Assassin set his gaze straight in front of him, and begin toward the center of the city. The many adventurers in the city streets were of all occupations and classes, a melting pot of cultures and lifestyles coming to merge within the kingdom's capitol. Of these, one pair of Assassins eyed Syffer carefully from the shadow of a nearby shop, glancing back at one another before nodding in unison. Syffer chuckled to himself as he glanced in their direction, giving a simple nod of acknowledgement to his colleagues, perhaps the very scouts of whom The Chief had spoken. One gave the silver-haired young man a simple "O.K." sign as his partner melded into the shadows, soon following suit himself.
'If intelligence is working on my side, this should be a brief stay in Prontera indeed. At least I have some backup. It's only a matter of time until I find you, Solstice.'
•••••
Solstice sneezed and leaned against a nearby tree to steady herself. Her amber eyes glanced about curiously as though searching for another presence. She shrugged the feeling off after a moment and sat back against the tree, wincing as pain shot up her side again. The Creator lifted the bottom of her blouse to examine the dressings on her wounded side, the evidence of her run-in with Syffer in Morroc making itself known once more through her bandages. Since fleeing the scene of the crime the day before, a feeling of exhaustion and fatigue had continued to plague her, making her journey that much more burdensome. Solstice had yet to find any green herb plants to harvest for an antidote to the Assassin's crippling poison, furthering her frustration.
'I knew this was going to be no easy task, but so far everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.'
She sighed and tossed her hat off behind her, leaving it hanging on her back by a string looped around her neck. Solstice ran a hand through her ghostly white hair, taking the opportunity to catch her breath. She had managed to avoid crossing through Prontera by struggling over the rocky hills that generally served as a land barrier to detour travelers into the crossroads city. Her hands were cut and sore, and her knees were scraped up, leaving her appearance in a state of dishevelment. She was now to the west of Prontera's western gate, on a small islet near the entrance to the Prontera Culvert which housed the bustling city's sewer system. The woman closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head back against the trunk of the tree and placing her hand on the exotic flower over her heart.
"Well, what have you got to say? You haven't said a word since I left Morroc. You were right about that rare and priceless sword being there, but you still haven't told me where I should go next. Geffen's a fine refuge, but unless it has something I need, there's no point dwelling there."
She remained silent for a minute, listening intently for some sort of response, though not a living being was within earshot of her. Solstice groaned and crossed her arms, convinced that her day couldn't possibly get any worse. As she was about to give up on counting on her unseen company, a familiar voice echoed in the back of her mind and spoke in an emotionless, analytical way.
"Geffen… is it not where they said you would find the book?" The voice asked in a soft whispering tone as though for fear that some unaccounted eavesdroppers would hear it in Solstice's head.
She opened her eyes and gazed out into the distance, pondering these words.
"Geffen, huh? That is where the manual was supposedly moved to. But if I'm going to try to take something from the City of Magic, I'm going to need some sort of protection should I happen to alert the Mages and Wizards."
The voice came again in an almost scrutinizing tone, skeptical of Solstice's doubts.
"You're worried about a few pitiful magic-users? You still have the whi-."
Solstice growled slightly as she spoke, somewhat irritated by the disembodied voice's suggestion.
"I will not make him nothing more than my slave. I'm not going to rely on his strength alone. I can find my own means of protection."
She waited for another response, though when silence occupied its space, she gave a confident "hmph" and smirked, savoring her small victory.
Brushing a strand of her hair from her eyes, Solstice glanced in the direction of the Prontera Culvert's guarded entrance. After much thought, a smirk formed on her lips, and she stood from her seat beneath the tree to set off into Prontera's sewer system, where she would find what she needed. She stopped in her tracks, however, when a shiver ran up her spine at the feeling of an invisible hand probing through her pockets. Solstice's cheeks flushed faintly at the unwelcome contact, and with an angered scowl she reached down to clutch the wrist of the culprit, bringing him out of his hiding.
"Ah! L-let go! That's cheating!" The young boy's voice wavered in panic.
The would-be bandit was a blonde-haired, well-tanned Thief who couldn't have been older than fourteen years. A stray feather of hair jutted out from the rest of his locks, and his eyes were wide and naïve, brown as were those of most inhabitants of the Sograt Desert. He wore a beige, unbuttoned jacket over a simple white vest, and darkened leather pants supported by a belt onto which his dagger's sheath was attached. Solstice chuckled to herself at seeing he had no vials of poison anywhere on his person, leading her to believe he was a fresh-faced Thief.
'This kid doesn't even know the envenoming strike yet.'
Solstice's amber eyes remained vexed as she tightened her grasp on the boy's wrist, eliciting a yelp of pain as he struggled to wrest his arm free of the target-become-tormenter. The Creator cleared her throat and spoke in as intimidating a tone as she could with her normally light, gentle voice.
"Trying to steal from a target you don't understand? You're bold, I'll give you that. Not too bright, but bold."
The Thief laughed nervously, sweat forming on his brow.
"Aha, I-I was just practicing my stealing technique. Sorry about the inconvenience?"
"Oh, how true."
With those words, Solstice drew her Talefing sword and made a swift slash at the novice bandit, who gasped and quickly kicked off the ground, sliding backwards a good ten yards. The Creator raised a brow at seeing such a young Thief pull off the backsliding technique so well.
'Not bad. This kid has some surprises after all.'
The frightened boy fumbled his hand movements for a moment, but soon calmed himself enough to properly perform the hiding technique, placing his left hand out in front of him vertically with the thumb pointed at him while his right hand grasped the palm of his left. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke and gave a sigh of relief. When he looked up, however, his heart leaped into his throat. Solstice stood staring at the spot he was concealed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. She was genuinely angered by the bothersome Thief, viewing the boy as the last straw on her stack of bad luck leading up to that moment.
"I know you're still there. You can't fool me; Thieves don't have the training to move while hidden from sight."
He watched nervously as she fiddled with a strange bottle, filled with what looked like fleshy, organic components, one resembling part of a brain.
"Now, I'll give you credit in that my fire bottles don't have any effect on you while you're hidden… But I wonder just how long you've trained to hold that technique? If you were really good, you could probably hide for five minutes tops."
She grinned and slashed her Talefing through where the boy's chest should have been, and indeed the Thief watched in horror as the blade sliced through his chest, clenching his eyes shut tightly. After a moment without pain, he cracked an eye open and looked down, noticing that the sword had passed through him as though he were a Whisper. Another sigh of relief escaped his lips, and Solstice tossed the bottle up in the air before catching it again.
"I do hope you don't think me rash, Bandit," Solstice nearly cooed the affectionate name she had tagged the boy with, "but you picked the worst time to shuffle through my pockets. I've had a really, really bad day, and you are just the icing on the cake. Suffice it to say, my patience is thin."
The Thief bit his lip and laughed nervously to mask his genuine fear for his life.
"I-I don't suppose it's too late to ask for forgiveness?"
The Creator closed her eyes and held her hands out, the insignia on the back of her right hand glowing once again. A large summoning circle formed on the ground, resonating light and turning rapidly, into which Solstice threw the bottle of organic components. The bottle floated above the ground and rotated as the woman began to call out an incantation.
"Powers of nature, art of Alchemy, turn this mine bottle into a Marine Sphere! Let life be born from these, your ingredients of matter!"
The bottle spun in place rapidly and emitted a flash of light, before shattering and being replaced by a pink-red orb that floated above the ground and pulsated ever so slightly. The Thief was shocked by the sudden appearance of the grotesque creature which seemed hardly sentient, though through the gooey outer membrane it clearly contained functioning organs, including what could suffice as a brain.
"Wh-what the hell is that thing?"
As he uttered these words, his technique began to fade, and his form soon became visible again. The blonde-haired boy drew in a sharp breath and snapped his head back and forth in confusion.
"What?! No way! I was able to hold it longer last time!"
Solstice's eye gleamed and she snatched the Marine Sphere into her arms, cradling it in her left as she pulled her right fist back. The Creator gritted her teeth and punched the orb with all her strength, causing the brain-like organ to flash on and off at a steadily accelerating rate.
"Hey, Bandit! Catch!"
Solstice pitched the unstable Marine Sphere at the boy, who looked up at her and blinked.
"Huh?"
He yelped as he saw the oncoming projectile and put his hands out to catch it. The Thief exhaled and examined the red ball, curious as to what exactly it did. The Creator sheathed her sword and dashed off toward the Culvert, as far from the Thief as she could get. She paused for a moment as she spotted an object lying on the ground in the path the Thief had come from.
'What's this now? Well look what Bandit dropped, a blank card. How convenient, hah!'
She pocketed the card and continued running from the volatile Marine Sphere the Thief was holding, turning only to call out to the boy in a playful tone.
"Thanks for the card, hon! You may want to drop that thing though, right about… Now!"
The naïve boy's eyes widened and he looked down at sphere in his hands, the "brain" now flashing at such a rapid pace that in the next few moments, the light shone constantly. He gasped as the light surged through the entire Marine Sphere, which contracted before the "brain" inside popped.
'Aw hell.'
Solstice slowed her pace and caught her breath, judging that she was a decent distance now from her simple-minded guest. She turned in time to see the explosion that enveloped the tiny islet, dust and smoke lingering in the air around it like a cloudy veil, making visibility scarce. She laughed and put a hand on her cheek, stopping to speculate on the fate of the boy.
'Hmm, that was quite the explosion. Poor little Bandit. Still, even for someone so hopelessly inexperienced, I doubt that alone could kill him.'
Solstice convinced herself that the boy had survived, despite her gut feeling that he had demised in the explosion. Rational logic and estimation of the amount of damage her Marine Spheres were capable of put her mind to ease, and she let out a heavy exhale.
"He definitely survived. He may have been stupid, but I'll bet he's one of those die-hard types."
She soon shoved her concerns aside and approached the Culvert guard, pulling her hat back over her head and tipping it down to hide her face. If news had spread to Prontera about her crimes, it would be quite the burden for this guard to recognize her, and she had no intent of staining her hands with the blood of her witnesses. Solstice cleared her throat and spoke in a hushed tone.
"Excuse me sir, I'd like to enter the Culvert."
The guard lifted the tall cap on his head with his thumb and examined Solstice carefully, before speaking with an apologetic inflection.
"Sorry ma'am, I'm afraid that the recent increase in the number of Thief Bugs spawning down in the sewers has made it more dangerous than ever to tread on their territory. I can't in good conscience allow you to go down there by yourself. If you get a group of friends to help you, I can let you through."
She groaned and crossed her arms, trudging over to a nearby bench in indignation. The odds were working against her yet again, as flying solo presented the problem of getting to where she needed to be.
'Where am I going to find a party? Hmm, who do I have to choose from?'
Solstice glanced at the area around her and saw several young adventurers talking amongst themselves and planning out how deep they would go, how much training they needed, and the reward for volunteering to clear out Prontera's sewer system. One such pair caught her attention as promising: a young, newly-promoted Priest ran a hand through his dark brown hair as he talked to a purple-haired Swordswoman, who looked to be about in her late teens. From her appearance alone, she looked as though she had a good deal of combat experience under her belt. Her purple hair made Solstice wonder if she dyed it, or if it was natural and she hailed from Geffen; children born in Geffen were likely to grow hair of otherwise unnatural colors, which scholars speculated was due to the reservoir of magical energy deep beneath the City of Magic.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts and focus on more important tasks, Solstice approached the couple, introducing herself cautiously. She didn't want to give her full name, for fear that she would be recognized as the arsonist from Alberta.
"Hey there, are you two going into the Culvert? I really need to look for something deep in the sewers, and I'd be grateful if you'd let me tag along. The name's Sol."
As her potential party glanced in her direction, she made the most polite mannerisms in her speech and deeds as she could, assuring the pair that it would be of little burden to bring her along. She bowed slightly before them, and stood back up with a smile. The adventurers looked her over for a moment before smiling in unison. The two spoke for a moment about the Creator's proposition for help, and apparently came to an agreement. The Priest spoke first, extending a hand to the Creator.
"It's nice to meet you, Sol. It would be a pleasure to have some company into the Culvert."
Solstice took the Priest's hand in hers firmly and grinned, pleased with how things were now looking up for her. She spoke in a quiet, deliberate tone, hiding the malicious intent behind her words.
"The pleasure is all mine…"
Her lips curled into a wry smile as she glanced in the direction of the Culvert once more.