Epilogue
"Word around here says that you're looking for work."
At the sound of her voice, the man looked up from his plate of food – at least she presumed he was male, considering his stature; the uniform she saw underneath his blue cloak upon closer inspection helped confirm this – green eyes squinted at her suspiciously as he quickly drew up the scarf around his neck to his face to mask his identity, too quickly for her to get a good look at his appearance.
Good. In her line of work it wouldn't do to be too easily trusting of a stranger. Thinking of this, she tugged at the hood of her own black cloak, more to obscure her lips as she spoke in case there were eavesdroppers than to hide her identity, as the man had done.
After all, she was a woman of no consequence unless you happened to be her target. It was fun to revel in a successful strike when they knew your face, but not your name. This man, though, if all went well, she might have more use for him alive rather than dead.
"I am. I don't have much experience with hard labor, but I'm willing to learn," he stated.
"You any good with a sword? A uniform like that would suggest so," she said. "Not to mention the company you keep in an establishment like this. It's a wonder you haven't been stabbed in the back yet."
"I've had training," he responded, nonchalant, turning his attention back to his food, cutting the meat into diced cubes. He refrained from pulling down his scarf to take a bite, instead pushing the morsels around on the plate as if rearranging them could reveal some hidden secret. The mysterious man turned once again to look at her, eyes lacking luster or excitement as he continued, "As for those in this godforsaken inn, I must say they are afraid of me. I didn't have the most subtle of entrances upon arriving here if you've been kept up to date about the goings-on around here."
She nodded. Yes, she had heard.
Middle of the night, scaring off a small group of men with some kind of dark sorcery – it was intel from a very reputable informant – and the others agreed that if they were able to recruit him, nothing would stand in the way of their cause.
However, the man certainly was an enigma, the innkeeper was not kidding about that. Even the informant couldn't bring up much about this mysterious dark sorcerer, though he constantly claimed that he was familiar somehow.
This man's ambiguity could certainly work into her favor. Working in the shadows was her forte, and it would certainly be beneficial if he was willing to be an asset.
"Self-defense, war, or just for show?"
"A bit of each."
Really... Hmm, he possibly was a man of high status at some point if he participated in the latter. Fencing was a pastime of the privileged, after all. Good, good. His résumé was looking particularly perfect for what she needed him for.
"Ever killed anyone?" she asked, straightforward. The man's cold gaze hardened at this, eyes narrowing even more in suspicion. But there was no fear, or anger, or disgust, or even surprise. His inhuman, impersonal reaction was… awe-inspiring.
His jaw underneath the scarf set to one side, likely contemplating his answer.
"Now, why would someone as obviously as informed as you are be asking me this question?" he said at last. It was intended to be posed as interrogative, but his voice was as unfeeling as a bitter, starless winter's night. "Life should have taught you to be wary of speaking to strangers, especially if you have suspicions of homicidal intent about them."
Green eyes flickered back to her, icy. Passionless. A warning hidden beneath the frozen exterior.
Curious how she constantly associated the cold with him. Her instincts weren't quite sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing for what she required of him. He was dangerous, that much was apparent. The same could be said about herself, of course, so it didn't really bother her.
She decided to prod further.
"Well…" she drawled, quirking her lips into a faint grin as she pulled up a chair and sat across from him. She brought her elbows to rest on the table, clasping her hands together in a display of authority and power. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "From what I've heard, there was a man that arrived in town months ago, alone and on the run from something. He was able to scare off whoever was tailing him and bunkered down in an inn notorious for its underground dealings.
"When some people tried to get a jump on him because of his oh-so-obvious wealth in his clothing, he killed them in self-defense. With little mess to clean up afterwards, too. Now, said man is looking for work since he appears to be without any money on him, yet he refuses to become a mercenary like the people at the inn would like him to be because of his unique skill set."
"And you believe I am the man you're looking for."
"Of course. The innkeeper said as such. Not to mention that no one else here is in finery like you are. Hm, with those colors… You from Arendelle?"
The faintest flicker of life in his eyes at the mention of the ruined kingdom, but it was extinguished faster than it was able to fully manifest itself.
Ah, so he had some spark to him after all.
But he didn't continue on with an explanation, and continued to stare with a dull look.
She pretended not to be fazed by it. "I'm going to assume you are. Well, luckily my associates and I are planning to take our work over there. A kingdom in need is where I personally like to conduct business."
"And what is this business?"
"I think you can figure it out with how our little interview is going."
Murder, assassination, or whatever else the commonwealth liked to call it. She personally liked to think of it as "removing a few choice pieces in a chess set," because the other terms didn't imply that there was any rhyme or reason to conducting business.
She could just have said this instead of beating around the bush, but she wanted to see if he had the wit to piece it all together.
And it appeared that he had.
His pupils dilated slightly, and something dark flashed behind his scrutinizing gaze. She took that as an indication of interest.
His words, however, said otherwise.
"I'm not a mercenary, and I'm not a hitman," he responded. "Take your business proposal elsewhere."
"Not even with the promise of making history and accumulating all the wealth you could ever imagine?"
"Money doesn't interest me."
"Oh, but you're hurting for some income, are you not?"
"I live by higher standards than you, apparently."
He stood from his seat, leaving the unfinished plate of food on the table and fishing out a few pieces of copper from his pocket. He paid for the meal and left the dining room of the inn.
No, he couldn't be walking away from this that easily. He was too useful for her to just let him go like that.
There was an interest somewhere, she was sure of it. Now, what could she say bring him to her cause?
Arendelle. Something about Arendelle was the key. The uniform, being trained with a sword; a former soldier of some sort, perhaps? No, the clothes were too decorated for that. Even the cloak he wore was something a lot more exquisite-looking than any normal solider would be wearing. Having little experience for hard labor attested against that possibility.
Ah, must have worked in the castle at some point. Considering that he hadn't sold the clothes for something more conspicuous, he was loyal to the queen still if he saw sentimental value in them. Maybe even close to her at one point.
Bah, royals. So blind to see imminent demise as they turned a blind eye to the fact that one of their own could very well mean the end of civilization as they knew it. Still, she could probably use that misplaced loyalty to later have an open door to show him how the world was depending on people like her. People willing to do whatever it took to ensure their vision of the world would come to fruition.
The end always justified the means. Always.
She stood from her seat, pushed in her chair, and followed after the mysterious man.
He didn't stray too far outside of the inn.
"At least consider a bit of a trial run," she persuaded. "You don't actually have to do the dirty work if you can't stomach it. Just leave it all to the lady."
"I'm still not interested."
"Well, would you be if I mentioned we'll make a quick stop in the Duchy of Weselton before Arendelle? Need to make sure some things are running smoothly in the operations going on there. I've been hearing the ol' duke is in some need of my organization's… expertise."
His head snapped to face her.
Gotcha.
Ah, loyalty. Made people so predictable sometimes.
"Alright, if it would keep you from pestering me about it," he relented at last. "Might as well see the world while I'm wandering it aimlessly."
"Good. You're going to need a sword. While I'm sure whatever powers you've got can handle any issues we might come across on the way, I'm sure you're not one to be quite open to revealing them to others, are you?"
She beckoned for him to follow her, handing him a short sword she hid under her cloak. He took the weapon, turning it around to inspect it, even testing the weight of it with a few short swings.
That was when she got a good look at his hands. Strange how she didn't notice them earlier when he was at the table eating since they were wound tightly with tattered strips of cloth. They didn't look at all comfortable or even suitable for coverings.
She didn't think too much on it, since they didn't seem to hinder his ability to properly handle a sword.
"Come, I'll need to speak to an associate while I'm in town. Some loose ends I need to take care of, then we can set off."
She started off in the direction of the office she knew her informant was hunkered down in temporarily, but turned back when she didn't hear the man following her. She raised a questioning brow at him.
"I left something," he explained. He reached a hand out, and the next moment a scythe rested in his rag-covered hands.
She almost laughed at seeing it.
He killed those people with that thing? And witnesses said (as shady and unreliable as they were) that there were very few marks, if any, left on the bodies. If that didn't attest to his skill, well… It was a wonder no one had caught wind of him, other than herself of course, and recruited him sooner.
Then again, that was the whole point of leaving little mess at a crime scene, correct?
"What are you, someone wanting to emulate Death?" she couldn't help but snark.
He shrugged. "Something to that effect."
###
It was under the guise of night when the two of them made it to the boarding house. Her associates had… repurposed the old school into a place to keep all the soon-to-be-recruited (read: future scapegoats) and "civilians" they needed to keep an eye on sometimes, such as her informant.
"Aĉ! Sufiĉe!" came an exclamation of displeasure from within the room. "Sit still! Do you want this to take longer or what?"
Great, it seemed her associate was busy with one of his projects. Oh well, looks like she'll just have a bigger mess to deal with later. Only a minor inconvenience, but an inconvenience nonetheless.
"Bonajn noktojn," she said with a sickeningly saccharine lilt as she entered along with her newly-acquired ally. "How goes my best informant?"
"Ah, no one ever uses that altered greeting except for 'Madam Huntswoman' herself," the informant said, not diverting his attention from the oil painting he was working on save for the occasional glances to the subject of the artwork: a man and woman, who scowled at the newcomers. "Bonan nokton, Madam. Considering the time of night, I'm going to assume you need information from me. Again."
"That could be correct," she said, sauntering closer to where the artist sat as she drew a stiletto from her sleeve. Of course, her soon-to-be victim didn't notice, but the posing couple did.
"Oi! Sit still, I said!" the painter barked to the couple as they pulled out pistols from their hidden holsters to point at her and the dark sorcerer. "Madam, see what you've done? Now I'll never get this finished. You assassins ask way too much from me, having me work in circumstances that are nearly impossible to deal with." He finally faced her, and genuine hurt and shock contorted his features upon seeing the drawn blade in her hand.
He drew his own blade hidden a sheath he kept around his neck and tucked away out of sight in his shirt. A simple knife.
The man and the woman retrained their guns onto the painter, now that they realized the events that were going to take place and that she wasn't there to kill them.
Hah, like she was ever going to kill someone that could have her escape a death sentence.
His eyes grew wide when he saw the disguised man. A low growl of anger came from the latter, eyes betraying the sense of familiarity he was feeling.
These two knew each other? Oh, how interesting...
Still, it was good to see that her new pet knew when to heel.
"Y-you found him?" the painter stuttered, aghast.
"Of course I did!" she said, annoyed.
"Where's your team? Weren't some of them against this?"
"I killed them. They knew too much. Came to the same conclusion as I did. And what do you know? After I did a bit of snooping, I've come to realize that you knew where he'd gone this whole time. Without informing me."
"Lies. You found him, alright? No need to kill the messenger, especially since I was the one who alerted you of his presence."
"This man isn't the one I was referring to," she said, pointing a thumb to the silent, cloaked figure beside her.
"Then who—"
"King Pieter Westergaard. I hear you happened upon him a few months back, no?"
The informant paled, his grip on the knife's handle shifted. He gulped.
"Look, I didn't even know he was in Arendelle!" her informant defended. "Besides, he seemed normal and everything. How could you have made any conclusions about him?"
"Because a royal has never been able to escape my clutches. Sure, they might seek refuge somewhere, but they always leave traces. They get emotional, and that's when they make mistakes and leave some kind of trail. But not him. Oh, no; not him. And he was able to get the rest of them out of there, too. Don't tell me you didn't notice this. You're too in with the royal circles not to know this."
"You're… You're mad! This is crazy! The King of the Southern Isles would never do anything as your cohorts claims he could do! If you'd ask me, Queen Elsa of Arendelle seems a more likely candidate than him."
"Oh, don't worry. I have plans to take her out as well. Have my leaders executed? While I should be thanking her for making it a mad grab for the unfilled positions, it shows that our work cannot end with just the Destroyer. Or else history is just going to repeat itself."
The brandished knife in his hands wavered. His eyes grew wide.
Oh yes, the look of someone knowing that they were going to die. Beautiful.
"But what about my family? What are you going to do to them?" He was growing frantic.
The fool. Pleas for mercy never worked on her. "Count Mikelo Ludoviko of Gavallande, As your caretaker, I hereby relieve you of your duties. Permanently. Your services are no longer needed by the Order of the Lynx."
She moved to attack. He responded likewise to defend.
But instead of having to parry a swipe of a knife, she felt the tip of a blade on her back. The informant dropped his weapon in fear.
"It must be my lucky day. An Order member," laughed the disguised man as she turned to face him.
He dared to hold her own weapon against her? That would be the last mistake he would ever do.
She swiped away the sword with her forearm (for she wore chainmail underneath her sleeves, just for this kind of occasion) and stabbed him in the gut with her stiletto, ensuring that he would not survive the wound before retracting the blade.
He looked down at the damage she caused.
Then he looked to her.
Fury peeked over the scarf on his face as she smiled triumphantly at him.
But instead of attacking again, he sighed and placed the sword at her feet. He unwrapped the cloth around one of his hands. Slowly. Painstakingly slow. He stared at his uncovered flesh with apprehension.
The tips of them were covered in ice.
Ice!?
But it looked like they were thawing slightly right before her own eyes.
"It seems that I've found a new means for survival," the man said.
And he closed the hand around her throat.
He didn't grip very hard, no. He was… strangely gentle about it, like he was allowing her to just throw off his grip if she wanted to. Like he was reluctant to be even doing this.
But his hand… it was so cold. Freezing. And… and there was a fire that burned in every sinew and fiber of her being. As it progressed, his hand grew tighter and tenser as if he was finally resigning himself to whatever he was doing to her.
Two cracks of guns firing behind her. The man grunted as their bullets hit their mark.
He directed his attention to the couple behind her.
"I'll deal with you two next," he threatened.
She couldn't help but stare daggers at him, hating him with every essence she possessed. That was when she noticed the stray locks of hair that fell onto his forehead. White. Wait, wait… no… were they turning darker.
"It's nothing personal, really," he said to her. "You've chosen your path, I'm just here to ease you into its consequences. And I swear, starting with your dying breath, that I will protect everyone that I love and care about from monsters like you. I will infiltrate the pits of filth that you originate from, and I will destroy it from the inside out. And even then, I know I won't be able to atone for the wrongs I've done, but I can rest assured with the knowledge that I've stopped you and your people from doing any more."
"W-what are you?" the she gasped weakly. She couldn't move. She could barely even breathe.
"I'm exactly what you said I looked like. I'm Death." The hooded figure swung the scythe from behind him to brandish the shadowy aura coating its blade. "Personified."
He swung.
And she was no more.
Acknowledgements:
I would like to personally thank T-tawny, Aliniss, TeamArendelle, FrozenStories, AmazingGraceY, KallissaQuartz, 2014banana, and Empress2709 for leaving reviews on this story! (If I missed any of you, please let me know! I didn't mean to leave you out!) I would also like to thank the various guest users that have also left reviews, and the one guest user who has left a review on almost every update as it comes out (you know who you are ;P). Without any of you, I wouldn't have had enough encouragement to continue writing due to the craziness I've had to experience in my life as I was writing this: losing one of my uncles, starting a new school year, looking and finally getting a job, having to hold the fort as my family had to leave me behind to attend my uncle's funeral in a foreign country, etc.
Seriously, without any of you, I would have not been able to bring myself to add onto my plate the possibility of ever finishing a lengthy piece of work like this. You've helped to realize a portion of my life-long dream to become a published novelist, and my biggest hurdle was to even finish a plot I started working on. I can't thank you guys enough for all you've helped me to do!
I'd also like to thank those who followed and favorited this story as well, for you guys help remind me that there is an audience out there that I'm writing for. Though you guys may not voice it, just the thought that there are more of you that I might be letting down in not finishing saddens me, but gave me the drive to push out chapter after chapter, since if you guys are willing to stick with me, I should be willing to stick with you for just as long.