Author's Note: I haven't updated this story in about 2 and a half years, and I finally got the time and motivation to do it, so hopefully everyone likes it! :)
Pagestravel: Yes it is, and thank you for the compliment.
Stormrider974: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this second chapter, and thank you for the follow :)
Murphy Chapelwood: Your reviews are always incredibly in depth, and you've helped immensely with my revisions, so thank you so so much :)
Cheese: Your stories are great, and I look forward to hearing from you more and more in my coming chapters.
Cassandra's consciousness faded back, though a hazy mist still blocked her thoughts. A heavy weight crushed her ribs, sending tendrils of pain shooting throughout her body. Memories of the night before slowly entered into her mind, of a blade in the shadows, an unknown assailant. Her blood had spilled over the cobblestones washing them a deep scarlet.
She remembered.
The crow of the neighbourhood rooster greeted the humid, Caribbean dawn, and Cassandra groaned. She was late - by about two hours - to her meeting with the leader of the first and only Thieves Guild to call San Juan its home. Considering the hurricane two years previous, she was surprised that anyone would setup shop in this city. But this meeting was more a formality then anything really, seeing as how she had been cutting purses since the age of 6, but the Guild Master had banned any and all fences within San Juan who did not answer to the Guild. And no one traded stolen goods to the Guild fences within city limits without the Master's express permission.
After the first body turned up in the bay, fences lined up outside the door to pledge their allegiance to the Thieves Guild.
Cassandra opened her eyes, and was momentarily blinded by the first light of dawn. She was unconscious only a few hours, though her mind was well rested. Her body, however, was another tale. The shopkeepers in the alleyway hadn't even opened for business yet, which was beneficial for her, all things considered. The body of her would-be murderer was still collapsed on top of her chest, and it hurt for her to breathe. A broken rib or two, then, at the very least.
Alright, I can do this. Cassandra steeled herself, pushing upwards against the body. He had to weigh at least 12 stone, and beads of sweat dripped from her brow with the strain. She heard the sounds of footsteps through the open balcony above her - the merchants house that she had robbed before her unfortunate encounter. She needed to act quickly now. Heaving once more with all of her might, she finally managed to roll the dead body off of her and to her left. This brings new meaning to the phrase 'weight lifted off your shoulders'.
After a momentary struggle - one coupled with the excruciating pain of a surely broken rib - Cassandra lifted herself to her feet, surveying the alleyway before her. Little had changed since she had passed out, besides the large pool of blood that surrounded the body on the stones below. It was not the first time that she had killed somebody, but it never got any easier. Skillful assassin, what a waste... He did have it coming, though, the absent thought flowed into her mind. She took one last look at his corpse, sighed, and began the slow walk to the Thieves Guild of San Juan.
What an exciting morning. The walk was uneventful, and sticking to the shadows and alleyways ensured that the only passersby who greeted her presence were either gutter trash or destitute beggars - as if one could tell the difference anymore. Everywhere she looked, they averted their questioning gazes, their wandering eyes, unwilling to help this unknown woman, or just too downtrodden to even care. Cassandra quickened her pace, eager to finish this meeting with the Guild Master before she had even seen his face, and less eager to wait for the blade in the night if she did not receive the Guild's blessing to thieve.
She came upon two large, red doors, common enough except for the clear quality of the workmanship that went into both the wood of the door, and the paint used to dye it. This was her destination. Cassandra raised her hand to knock, but the doors swung wide open before her knuckles could make contact. A large, towering giant greeted her, standing easily a head taller than the frame of the entryway. Next to this man, she felt like a child again, barely past the hip, but Cassandra stiffened her spine and took her first steps into the Thieves Guild of San Juan.
"Do ye have business here?" the man asked her gruffly. His voice was deep, with a hardy seafarer's accent - and language. It was clear from the rasp in his throat that he was a regular user of tobacco.
"Well, I had one, though I might be a few hours late for it," Cassandra pasted a mocking smile on her lips. She attempted to push past the door guard, but she found herself crashing into his steel frame. Her smile wavered as she looked up into his face, with a silent plea to make her way past.
"It's your first door on the left, end of the hallway. He's good with a blade, and likes his formalities." The man gestured to the corridor behind him. His face was a blank canvas, without even the attempt to convey his emotions. "Oh, and before I forget, welcome to El Sombreado Mano".
"T-thanks," Cassandra said to him quickly, squeezing past his bear-like frame, and limped her way down the hallway. Now that she was on the inside, she could really appreciate the Guild Hall. There wasn't a single speck of dust anywhere, no cobwebs lining the corners of the ceiling, and every portrait frame was perfectly placed upon the walls. Who are all of these people? Cassandra wondered to herself. They were dressed as diplomats, soldiers, decorated officers. One was even wearing a crown on his head. Now where could these have come from?
As she reached the Guild Masters door, a wave of uneasiness washed over her. Was she ready to cripple her independence, to sign away her profits to the Guild? Cassandra had always valued her solitary nature above all else, and it made her sick to think that after today, she would have to bow and scrape, calling somebody else - someone who could only be beneath her - Master.
Cassandra gritted her teeth, This is what I must do, so her mind, and her resolve hardened into steel. She rapped sharply upon the door with her knuckles, and received a soft grumble in reply. She pushed the door open lightly, entering a small, modest office with an oak desk centered under a tapestry. It was a grand portrait, covering the wall behind the Guild Master, depicting the man who sat in the desk before her with an ornate dagger grasped in his hand. It was marvelously well sewn, and must have cost this man a fortune.
At a loss for words, Cassandra took a few more tentative steps, continuing to take in the scene around her. A chest sat against the wall to her left, ordinary, with a single lock holding it shut. To her right, a large armoire stood tall, with 8 drawers to hold all manner of items, and a bright maple finish. It seemed a bit lavish for the room of a male thief, and if not for its small size it is one that even Cassandra could imagine herself residing in. It should be me behind that desk.
"Apologies for my tardiness, good jefe, but I had more pressing matters to attending to", Cassandra said, placing great exaggeration upon the word "master". She gestured to the blood covering her tunic and tight fitted riding pants, a sardonic smile displayed upon her lips. Raising her eyes, she gazed at the man who had summoned her here today, taking in every feature about him.
Plain by no means, he was a young, attractive man with a shaven face - a rare thing to see in this part of the world. His clothing, a rich silk shirt covered with ornate - and what must have been expensive - embroidery, underneath a rich, black, unbuttoned wool doublet. He's still a bastard for this, but would he always dress to impress? Cassandra thought to herself, refusing to acknowledge the flush that had crept into her cheeks.
The Guild Master set his quill down, glancing up from his paperwork at Cassandra briefly before he rose from his chair. He cleared his throat, "So, clearly you've forgotten me then, have you, Cassandra? No matter, I'm sure I'll be able to jog your memory..." He stepped out from behind his desk, crossed the floor of the office and closed the distance between himself and Cassandra. She was taken aback by his forward manner, but the distinctly English accent that the man spoke with seemed remarkably familiar...