A Song of Silence

Chapter 92: An Arrival in the Dark

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It was half an hour before our meeting time that I finally arrived at my destination. The High Queen hadn't been kidding when she said it would be a close call. I didn't know if I would make it to the meeting ground in time, but I had to try. Dismounting Millie, I yanked her reigns off her and set her free. If I died, she would be sold by the stable master for a spare bit of coin. I couldn't do that to her after she had faithfully been by my side for so many years. She was like family. Millie seemed to sense my sadness because of her departure and she nudged my arm in an attempt of comfort. The frothing mouth from her exhaustion was not very comforting, but i petted her in thanks all the same.

I quickly stripped Millie of her saddle and bridle and threw the equipment on the ground. Motioning for her to leave out the city gates, I wait for het to make it a few hundred feet away from me before I make my way towards the assassins keep. I can practically feel the eyes of every assassin that follows my actions on the rooftops. No doubt they are asking themselves how I am related to their great leader, or more likely, how can I hope to defeat him. That last question, even I don't have an answer to, but I was hurried to find out. The assassins followed my trek across the city as I rushed to get to the keep in time.

The last thing I needed was to be late to the challenge, so I jumped from rooftop to rooftop when necessary. Finally, I arrived at the gates of the keep. The guards eyed me suspiciously as I walked past them and onto the building. Following the long maze of corridors, I finally arrived at the inner courtyard of the keep where most challenges were held. Across waited for me as I burst through the wooden doors. They eyed me, taking in every detail. No doubt they saw the smudged makeup, the dirtied hands and the various scrapes and bruises and thought that the Grand Assassin was no doubt going to win. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't too confident in my chances of winning this.

Squaring my shoulders, I stalked over to the middle of the crowd where my father lounged on a garden chair. Even if he was a ruler of several hundred assassins, he treated every chair he sat in as a throne. Typical. "Father," I said as I finally reached him.

He looked up from examining his drink to study me from head to toe before going back to studying the wine in his glass. "You're late."

"No I'm not."

He snaps his fingers and a watchmaker comes up with a timepiece in hand. A quick gesture sends the man rambling nervously, "It is seven past midnight, lady. You are late."

Instead of denying it again, I simply ask, "What day is it watchmaker?"

"The 7th day of November, lady," he says nervously.

What happens on the sixth of November, watchmaker?"

"I-I don't know. lady, "he says nervously.

"I'll tell you. Daylight savings time. What time is it now that I have jarred your memory?"

The watchmaker looks nervously between his watch and me before fiddling with the dials. "11:12 miss, " he says, fear evident in his voice.

My father, who had been watching our interaction with cunning eyes, seemed very fucking pissed at this news. "See," I said to my father, "No late. In fact, despite your efforts to make it so, I am in fact, very, very early."

"Indeed," my father says, displeased before he snaps his fingers and assassins appear to drag the poor watchmaker away. I hadn't any other choice but to correct the poor souls that was now being dragged away into the dungeons. It was either I correct him or I would forfeit the challenge. As the saying goes, it was the survival of the fittest and I couldn't afford to be the loser. Not now anyway. Rising from his chair, my father approaches me slowly. An attempt to intimidate me, no doubt, but I don't let his height over me, nor his bulky stature to intimidate me. "It is not too late to back out, my dear. Do so now and I will let you live."

My eyes snap to my fathers and the threatening look he gives me. No, I cannot back out now. I am tired of running from my problems and he is the biggest problem I have. "No, father. One of us will die today."

His mouth thins into a tight line, displeased. Too bad. His displeasure is not my fucking problem anymore. Nothing is except protecting those orphans. He gestures his hand and an even more nervous looking male approached, a needle in hand. My father speaks first, "First, the checking of the blood to make sure you are my blood." It is foolish to do such a thing. My father never publicly acknowledged me as his heir, but we both know he and I are unfortunately blood. Holding out my hand, the nervous looking male took out a small knife and made a small incision in the tip of my finger. I don't react, but the nervous man watches my every move as if he thinks I will.

Turning my hand over, a drop of blood is squeezed into a small vial. My father follows my example and his blood drops on top of mine. With shaking hands, the nervous male infuses his magic into the vial. It glows a vivid red. Interesting. As bloodmancer. A special kind of water weaver that specializes in experimenting with blood. They could help with healing through clotting wounds and allowing for more blood production. They couldn't control literal blood, thank the gods and very few specialized in identification of whether you were related or not. I hadn't seen one of them in ages. From his nervousness, he was a weak bloodmancer at best. Shame. I would have liked to see the full extent of a powerful bloodmancer.

"Family," the male said, his voice squeaky. If it hadn't been obvious that this male was petrified before, it sure was now. His voice practically screamed to everyone in the vicinity that the man had no spine. In a crowd surrounded by assassins, that wasn't a good thing, but he had every right to be afraid. Mere minutes before, I had caused a watchmaker to be dragged off to the dungeons and consequently tortured and killled. The bloodmancer no doubt feared the same fate would befall him if he wasn't careful.

Several assassins in the crowd sighed in disappointment. No doubt they had been relishing and he fight that would ensue if it had been proved that we were not blood. My father schooled his face into neutrality and turned on his heel, the crowd followed him to our next destination. The armory was filled to the brim with weapons of every kind. Hundreds of years old, or even newly made. All polished and pristine. My father turns around to the small crowd that was permitted to follow us into the armory. "This challenge will be a battle of weapons and the mind. Absolutely no powers shall be used or an immediate disqualification will ensue. Understood?" The last part of his words was directed at me. I only nodded. "Well then, ladies first," he says gesturing to the array in front of us.

Typical. It was the better advantage to have your opponent go first so that their plans were laid bare in front of you before you made your pick of weapons. It was smart and the easiest way to win. Walking forward, I assessed what was in front of me. A traditional challenge would have as many rounds as necessary until a contestant won three rounds. I assumed it would be the same in this case, so I would need to pick five weapons at most. I couldn't be predictable, though. That would get me killed.

Stalking the length of the room my first weapon was a rope. Chuckles followed my choice, but I didn't let it bother me. The next, butterfly daggers. After that, a well balanced broadsword. A larger dagger. Shurikans.

The Grand Assassin went after me. He chose a crossbow, a broadsword, a net, a trident, and nunchuck's. With our weapons slung on our backs or held in our hands, the Grand Assassin led us to the next destination.