Re-uploaded to fix a ton of grammatical errors! Tsk tsk, Kyle. You're supposed to catch these things.
Morroc Town Center, Nightfall
The decorative fosse at the center of Morroc caught the moon's reflection in a way that made it more dazzling to behold in the water, rather than looking at the sky directly. Spider's gaze fell into the reflection, briefly admiring the floating stars dancing in the gently rippling water, and then he continued to stride past. If he was not mistaken, Grant should have at least left him a message informing him of a rendezvous point where they could meet later. He had known the paladin long enough to pick up his subtle mannerisms and habits
The town center had just started to clear out. Children in the streets returned to their mothers, merchants packing up their wares and stragglers hurried to return home before the sky became too dark. There were only two types of people who stayed outside in the Morroc night; fools, and people like himself. Despite his sense of security, Spider increased his pace, impatient to check his mail for a potential message. He walked from the wide, open space of the town center into the dusty main street of Morroc. After a couple of alleyways down, he turned, disappearing into the shadows in the alleys of the residential district.
The assassin cross had to admit; he was worried about Grant Graves' course of action regarding the Pope's orders. The two of them were one of the select handful individuals who even knew of Daphne's existence and her political significance. Well, the same couldn't be said the other way around; Spider himself knew that Daphne Trenton didn't even know who he was. He had, on a couple of occassions, watched her house invisibly from the shadows; she didn't even know she was being protected. His mission was only to protect her life at all costs. As long as she stayed alive, she didn't need to know he was watching her.
Spider mentally berated himself for not noticing it earlier; he had personally escorted Daphne Trenton from Geffen to Morroc, and he was unaware of her identity the entire time! He was simply accustomed to associating suspicious individuals who wished to travel incognito with Morroc. When he took that request, all he knew was that his client was a woman who wanted to arrive at Morroc. No questions asked, as decreed by the Assassin's oath. In a sense, that was a folly of their creed; Assassins never truly knew what their clients were thinking, or their true objective. They never knew whether their task was simply a matter of petty revenge or a coup d'état; if the client wanted to keep his or her identity unknown, then the assassin had no right to inquire. But still... an assassin had certain methods that were available to him. As long as the client didn't find out, it was fine.
He turned the corner to the street where his house sat. Not too far from his front door, a cloaked figure stood, walking towards him. Spider ignored the person until she stepped forward to address him.
"Good evening," a woman's voice said to him.
Morroc Slums
Argos sprinted along the rooftop tiles and lept down into opposite wall not far from Reinbach. Without losing momentum, he continued running horizontally across the wall and circled around his opponent to attack from behind. Reinbach spun to catch the unusual attack; raising his zephyrus spear, the knight managed to block Argos's icicle katars inches before they reached his jugular.
"Assassin!" Reinbach growled over the clang of their weapons. "Not even going to introduce yourself?!"
Argos scowled back at Reinbach.
"There's no point in introducing myself to a dead man," he said, pushing back Reinbach's spear with his katars. He quickly ducked down to execute a low sweeping kick, which, Reinbach jumped backwards over, stumbling slightly. Not wasting this opportunity, Argos sprinted forward with his arms behind him, then swung his katars forward in a scissors motion.
Unexpectedly, Reinbach let himself fall backwards under the attack but propped himself up with the butt end of his spear to prevent himself from landing completely on his back. Argos's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as Reinbach quickly hoisted himself back onto two feet by pushing off from his precarious position, digging the zephyrus butt end into the ground.
"Tch!" Argos jumped backwards before Reinbach's head could crash into his chest. Once again, they were back to staring each other down from a short distance.
"What do you want with Daphne?" Reinbach demanded, pointing the zigzag spear point of the zephyrus at Argos.
"There's no point in telling a dead man!" the assassin repeated. He raised his forearms in a defensive X shape in front of his neck, legs spread in a low stance close to the ground. Reinbach snarled at Argos's stubbornness, then the two of them dashed forward to attack each other. The shaft of the Zephyrus spear landed directly where Argos's forearms intersected; the assassin slipped past the invasive attack and shoved it to the side with one arm. With his other hand he thrust forward, aiming for the knight's unprotected armpit. Reinbach let go of the spear with one hand and immediately curled his armored bicep to protect his unarmored joint. The katar glanced off his shoulder plate.
"Still spouting off that nonsense!?" Reinbach bellowed, swinging his free fist upward. It connected into Argos's chest, knocking the assassin backwards into the wall. Grabbing his zephyrus with both hands, Reinbach once again thrust forward, aiming for his opponent's neck. The spear point clanged against Argos's x-shaped defensive stance.
...Something's wrong here, Argos thought. He executed a complex twisting maneuver with both katars and locked the tip of the spear to the ground. My fingers are starting to feel numb. Reinbach shoulder-butted the assassin in the chest and knocked him backwards. But it should be the other way around! Argos flexed his fingers around the grip of his icicle katars. To his dismay, he noticed small spider web cracks in the weapon's icicle-like blade. It seemed as though his weapon was severely disadvantaged here.
"I can fight dirty too, bastard!" Reinbach threatened. "We can do this your way if you want!" He shifted his stance to an overhead grip, poised to strike at a moment's notice.
The assassin twitched in anger at the insult. He didn't bother to suppress the growl in the back of his throat.
To have lasted this long against me, he thought. It looks like I'll have to take a gamble! Argos focused his eyes on Reinbach's spear, daring not to breath, not to blink.
The assassin threw his icicle katars to the side, not even bothering to re-clip them onto his belt. At the same moment, Reinbach lunged forward and thrust towards Argos with his spear. The tip of the zephyrus grazed his ribs, tearing a hole in the cloth of his assassin uniform.
He had been counting on that.
With a tight spin, Argos threw off his cloak and balled the fabric around the zephyrus, where it caught on the jagged spear point. He immediately snatched his drill katars and wove the spiraling blade into the exposed prongs of the spear point. The blades caught; for a moment, Reinbach simply stared at Argos's improvised attack.
With a sharp twist of his forearms, the assassin yanked the spear out of Reinbach's hands, where it flew into the air above them, then rushed forward, thrusting his right katar towards Reinbach's face.
Morroc Residential District
"Sorry," Spider said. "I'm waiting for someone else right now." He made to walk towards his door, but the woman blocked his path.
"I'm not that kind of woman," she replied. Her voice turned a little husky. "Unless you want me to be." She took off her hood, red locks of hair tumbled down. The assassin cross stepped back in alarm. He had not expected to encounter the waitress of the Muka House.
"Oh!" Spider exclaimed. "Colette, was it? Sorry, I really am expecting a visitor. I'll go visit you tomorrow, I promise."
"Really? I was expecting someone too."
"Yes, well – " Spider froze. Wait a minute. This isn't like her at all. She was never this forward...
"His name is Quint Yaxely," she continued. "Would you happen to know him?"
A shock traveled down the man's spine. He snatched a pair of inverse scare katars and lunged towards Colette. Just before they could slice open her jugular vein, she jumped backwards a surprising distance.
"My my," Colette tutted. "So aggressive."
"How did you know my real name?" Spider asked in a low voice.
"I never said it was your name," Colette said. "But you just confirmed it for me." But Spider had a strong suspicion that she had already known for a while, judging from her tone of voice.
"You wouldn't happen to be a stalker, would you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," she said coyly.
Spider scowled. "Have it your way then, sweet cheeks," he said, clipping his katars onto his belt and drawing a pair of suscamad daggers. "I'll play with you."
A mischievous smile grew on Colette's face, as she drew eight glinting daggers from the hem of her sleeve to between her fingers.
"Which cheeks?" she asked.
Completely different from yesterday, Spider thought. A 180 degree flip in personality. What's with this girl?
"Wouldn't you like to know," Spider replied ambiguously. He spread his feet far apart on the ground, widening his stance, ready to sprint forward at a moment's notice. Colette raised her hands into a throwing stance in response.
"Oh you're such a tease," Colette tittered.
For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, hardly daring to move. A warm desert breeze rustled the residential street, stirring the sand.
"Do you really intend to dodge multiple daggers at once?" the waitress asked sweetly.
Without warning, Spider bolted forward with a powerful snap of his legs. At the same time, Colette flicked her wrist slightly, tossing four of her daggers at the assassin cross.
"Like I could do such a thing!" Spider said. He balled his fist around a section of his cloak and flung it up sharply over his body; the flung daggers clattered against something metallic under the cloth. Just before the cloak could begin its descent downwards, he threw his suscamads wildly towards Colette, and then plunged his hands into the cloak to pull out a wickedly curving pair of silver shotels. It was clear what blocked Colette's daggers earlier.
The younger woman had managed to pluck one of the carelessly thrown suscamads out of its flight by its handle with her free hand, and flung the other four daggers towards Spider. One of the daggers grazed his thigh as he twisted out of the way. A curious burning sensation crept along the shallow cut.
Poisoned!? Spider swore inwardly. Just who exactly is this woman!?
The assassin cross mercilessly forced his rapidly weakening limbs to piston harder; sprinting towards Colette as he twirled the silver shotels to a reverse grip. His vision was beginning to fade; his heart was beating rapidly. Beads of sweat formed on his brow – he didn't have much time, he needed to gamble – with a grunt, he rammed into Colette and knocked her into the wall behind her and swiftly raised his weapons upward, aiming for the spot under her biceps. The point of the shotels dug into the wall, trapping her arms inside the curve of the blade. The suscamad she caught clattered to the ground.
Once more, they were back to staring at each other silently, but this time, Spider had Colette trapped. Her cloak fell open, revealing a pair of tight black cut-offs and a form-fitting top over her svelte body. From where her arms disappeared under the cloak, he could glimpse a small portion of arm-warmers. His eyes widened.
"A stalker uniform!?"
Only the most talented rogues earned the right to call themselves stalkers; masters of trickery, deception, and spying. They were the assassins guild counterpart to the assassin cross rank, capable of stripping their opponents bare of equipment and mimicking their attacks, among other things.
The stalker threw her legs around Spider's hips, using his surprise to her advantage, and slid down against the wall, slipping her arms out from under the blade of the curved shotels. The man's legs buckled under the sudden increase in weight and he slumped to the ground. She forced her body weight forward, knocking Spider onto his back, then pinned his arms to the ground.
"Just a little reminder from our client," Colette whispered in his ear. "Your hit is supposed to be dead tonight."
"...and that warrants poisoning me?" he managed between gasps.
"It's myst poison, it wears off in a few minutes," she said lightly, standing up. "We can't have you out of commission just yet."
Something about that last word didn't bode well with the assassin cross. He felt some feeling return to his limbs, and with some effort, forced himself up into a sitting position. It seemed as if she hadn't been lying after all.
"I'll be going off to visit Richard-dear," Colette sang, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Shall I say Daddy said 'Hi?'"
"Stay out of it, princess," Spider muttered. "This is our job."
"Even if you say that," she replied. "My job is to carry out yours if you fail."
"I don't plan on failing," said Spider. Failing to bring Daphne to safety, he added mentally. He stood up, staggering a little from a wave of dizziness. Colette tilted her head as she looked at him.
"But your mission was to kill Daphne Trenton by nightfall tonight," she pointed out. "Which means if I find little Richard or Daphne before you do –"
"You wouldn't dare, ginger," he snarled.
"Shall we make a game out of it?"
Spider gave her his most acidic glare. This isn't good. I'm still recovering from that poison... "You think you can, with your fighting ability?" he challenged. Colette's eyes narrowed dangerously, but her flirtatious smile stayed.
"Want me to test it out?" she asked. Colette's mischievous blue eyes sparkled into Spider's green irises.
"Want me to let you?" he asked back, inverse scare katars suddenly appearing in his hands. For a moment, they stood facing each other silently. Then Colette sprinted up the wall near her, using the shotels buried into the wall as footholds.
"I'd hurry if I were you," she called from the rooftops. "After all, Quint Yaxely has a bounty of only two and a half million. I, on the other hand, have a bounty of three million." She disappeared.
Spider growled.
Shit.
"Quint?" a man's voice called. Spider turned to face the newcomer. "What are you doing?"
"Grant!" the assassin cross exclaimed. "There's no time for that! Hurry, help me inside."
Morroc Slums
Reinbach jerked his head backwards as quickly as he could, but he still felt the tip of the drill katars scrape across the bridge of his nose to his right cheekbone. Staggering backwards, he couldn't tell if his skin had been broken or not. The Zephyrus spear that Argos had disarmed clattered to the ground behind the assassin. He was now facing a trained opponent without any weapons. This is bad.
At that moment, a red firecracker sparkled in the distant air above, followed by a dull boom. The two young men looked at the unusual firecracker in the night sky. Argos narrowed his eyes. Red fireworks meant to drop everything to carry out the plan as soon as possible. He dashed forward past Reinbach and sprinted for the corner, snatching up his icicle katars as he went.
"Wait!" Reinbach shouted. "Where do you think you're running off to?"
Argos stopped momentarily. He turned his head, looking at the knight from the corner of his eye.
"Running off?" he scowled. "It's clear who the winner of this battle was, dog of the Pope. Next time we meet, I'll kill you." He disappeared around the corner.
"Bastard!" the knight growled. He grabbed his zephyrus, then began running after Argos. As soon as he rounded the corner, he saw Argos's heels disappear into an alleyway leading back to the orphanage. His stomach twisted sickeningly. That assassin had been talking to Daphne yesterday. What if she was his target?
The knight closed his eyes and recalled his past training in school.
Three years ago
"Listen up, boys!" Chivalry Captain Herman half-shouted. "There'll be a time when you fight assassins and the like. Cowardly lot, they are. And being pampered infants who're still wet from your mothers' breast milk, you won't stand a chance against them as you are right now!" He began pacing up and down the ranks of the young swordsmen.
Reinbach stood unflinching amongst the ranks of other prospective knights. It had hardly been a few months since he was promoted to a swordsman at the young age of fifteen. He wanted to become a knight as soon as possible; he would endure any training as long as it brought him to that goal.
"Assassins and rogues are a tricky bunch," Herman continued. "Don't expect them to fight fairly; they're trained to use sneak attacks, ambushes, and dirty tricks to win." He stopped pacing to rap a dozing swordsman in the back of the head.
"Ow!" the youth exclaimed. Reinbach recognized him as one of the newer recruits.
"So what options do you have as swordsmen to counter their skullduggery?" Herman asked. "Not that I expect you to know this, because you're all prepubescent little children who haven't even grown hair yet." He didn't specify what kind of hair. A couple of swordsmen sniggered, but Herman allowed this to pass.
"To endure their attacks!" the man said. "But of course, if by any chance, one of you were to face off against an assassin, you'd be dead before you could run home crying to your mothers." Some of the swordsmen murmured disconcertedly. It didn't sound like a very viable solution.
"The key to winning against an assassin or a rogue is defense," Herman continued. "And before you can start building reflexes needed to counter their attacks, you need to develop a sense of receiving attacks." Herman paused, tilting his head slightly as if he heard something very faint.
"The second key to victory against them," he said, "is to develop a sense of where they are at ALL times. Assassins and rogues have the uncanny ability to disappear from your sight even when they're right in front of you, which means they can initiate an attack while completely invisible." This time, a louder murmur, one of disbelief, rustled through the swordsmen ranks.
"Which is why you need to start working on developing your other senses in order to catch a cloaked assassin. For today's exercise, we'll be dividing you up in pairs." He waved over a pair of knights standing at attention in front of the swordsmen. Between them sat a barrel full of wooden training sticks and long thin strips of white cloth.
"You and your partner will take turns trying to hit the other," Herman shouted to the swordsmen. "But the catch is that both of you will be blindfolded, and tied together by the ankle. No hitting below the belt now, boys. Not as if you had anything down there worth saving anyways."
Morroc Slums, Present
Reinbach cursed and sprinted towards the orphanage. There was only a low chance that the assassin was not headed there, but he wasn't willing to take the chance and risk Daphne's life like this. He picked up his pace, urging his legs to move faster. If there was anything he learned from that particular training session with Chivalry Captain Herman, it was that assassins don't waste time while cloaked from sight.
Ten minutes earlier
"There's no time," Spider ushered, panting heavily. "The starling's life is already at stake." Grant stiffened, then nodded business-like.
"In my house," the assassin cross said. "There are some fireworks that I've explained to my partner in ahead of time. We need to light the red one."
"What does that do?" the paladin asked.
"It's the signal for staging her assassination. Someone hired a stalker as a fail-safe to carry out my mission in the case my partner or I failed. If the timing is off even slightly, the whole plan will fall to bits – "
"Wait what?!"
"I was hired to take out the starling," Spider said. "But now's not the time for that!"
Grant clamped a gloved hand on the other man's shoulder and turned him around to face him. Spider nearly gagged from the rushing nausea.
"Quint. You know very well who the starling is," he said. "You know what will happen if she dies."
"Like I said," Spider gasped exasperatedly. "Now's not the time for this! She could die any minute!"
They stared at each other for a moment.
"Trust me," Spider added. "Never for a minute I considered following those orders." He received a sickening lurch in his stomach as he came to a revelation, and it wasn't from the lingering poison. "Wait a minute," he said. "Weren't you hired by the Pope to take Daphne back to Prontera on charges for treason against the Crown?"
"Yes, well I wasn't planning on following –" the paladin cut his sentence short. He suddenly found himself in a situation very similar to Spider's.
"I'll trust you," he said finally, after a pause. "But you owe me an explanation."
"I'll tell you everything as soon as I can," Spider said. "Help me inside."
"Is something wrong with you?" Grant asked.
"Poison." He waved away Grant's worried expression. "It's only temporary, I'll live." Grant led Spider to the entrance of his house, where the assassin cross unlocked the door.
There was an small open wooden crate near the front door, half-filled with fireworks. Spider reached upwards to the mantle where a single firework was placed, but his fingers, still groggy from the after-effects of the poison, knocked the firework into the wooden crate.
"Uh... shit," he cursed.
"What is it?"
"That was the last red one," he said.
"Well then just pick up the one with the..." the paladin's voice faded away as he looked into the wooden crate. All of them looked exactly the same, with green wrappers.
"Shit!" Grant echoed. He grabbed a handful of fireworks at the top. "It should be one of these," he said.
The two of them stared down into Grant's open hand. There were five to choose from.
"What kind of person makes red fireworks with green wrappers?!" Grant growled.
"Don't ask me!" Spider said. "I bought them off some crazy alchemist girl!"
"We don't have a choice," Grant said. "We have to light all of them, but only fire the one with the red sparks coming out."
"No choice," Spider agreed. He pulled out a small wooden matchbox from his pocket. "Here." He took four of the fireworks from the paladin and gave him the matchbox.
Grant lit the fuse of the firework, and then walked outside to prop it up skywards. They watched anxiously, waiting for the spark on the fuse to reach the firework. Green smoke poured out of the base.
"Wrong one!" Spider shouted.
Grant slammed his shield downward on the firework just as an ear-splitting BANG erupted into the street. Emerald green sparks shot out across the ground from under his shield. He lifted it his shield; there was a smoldering dent in the center.
"Next!" Grant called. Spider tossed another firework at him. He reached for another match, then cursed loudly.
"What!?"
"We have one match left!"
"DAMN!" Spider said. "We'll have to light all of them at once!"
Grant stared at the assassin cross.
"Are you crazy?" he asked incredulously.
"We don't have a choice!" He rolled the rest of the fireworks to Grant. The paladin swallowed nervously, and then lit all of the fuses in one swipe.
"Here goes..." The sparks crawled up the fuses.
Three green plumes of smoke and one red plume poured out of the firecrackers. As quickly as he could, Grant knocked the green firecrackers sideways, where they shot along the ground erratically. Three simultaneous explosions shook the alleyway. The red firecracker jetted into the air, where it erupted into a red shower above them.
"That was a little low," Grant commented.
"It should be fine," said Spider. He injected a needle full of clear antidote into his thigh. Almost immediately, his nausea disappeared. It looked like Colette hadn't been lying about the type of poison after all. "We're going to be running."
"To the starling's location?"
"She should be working at an orphanage right now, but right now, I'm not particularly worried about her; it's my partner that I'm worried about." Spider began running to the town square, with Grant following behind him.
"Why is that?"
"We're staging her assassination, so she'll appear to be dead. The other hitman the client hired wouldn't bother a person who she thinks to be dead."
"She?" Grant shot Spider a glance. They reached the main street leading to the town square.
"Instead, she'll try to kill my partner, after he pretends to kill the starling."
"Your partner? But isn't he supposed to carry out the same mission as you?"
"Cutting tail," Spider explained. "That guy is actually Daphne's half brother. There are certain political consequences if his body is left at the scene of the murder."
The paladin's eyes narrowed. "So that's how it is... So who is the client?"
"I thought it was the Pope," Spider said, "after you sent that letter. But weren't you ordered by the Pope to bring Daphne to Prontera? Why would anyone order her assassination, and then send out a warrant for her arrest?"
"It doesn't make any sense," Grant said.
"It doesn't," Spider agreed. "But we don't have time to worry about that right now. We're counting on my partner to carry out the plan before the other hitman interferes."
Morroc Orphanage
"Hmm? What's this?" Daphne picked up the white towel hanging from the chair in the corner of the main room. She brought it to her face and sniffed lightly. It had a faint pleasant, musky scent. Briefly, she recalled Kristoph draping a towel around his shoulders as he walked across the main room earlier that day.
"This towel... it's Kristoph's..." she murmured under her breath, blushing despite being alone. She turned and glanced at Rachel, who happened to have fallen asleep on the faded and worn couch at the far end of the main room. Mrs. Reeves would stay around for a while to watch her... Daphne even had her wand today; walking about the night-time streets of Morroc wouldn't be a problem.
Alright, she thought. I'll go out and return this to him.
Silently, she snuck out of the orphanage and locked the door behind her. She paused for a moment to mutter a minor incantation. A small ball of fire ignited in the air in front of her, hovering merrily, casting a bright glow around her. Normally, she would try to stay as hidden as possible while traversing the streets of Morroc, but this time she had her wand.
"DAPHNE!" someone shouted from behind the corner of the alleyway.
"Kristoph?" she asked. The knight rounded the corner, out of breath.
"Oh thank goodness," he panted. "You're still unhurt."
"Well of course," Daphne said. "I was on my way to – "
A cold and alien feeling of something sharp entering her lower back under her ribs cut her sentence short. The floating fireball fluttered and died completely. The last thing she saw before losing her vision was Reinbach's shocked face.