Lysandra needed a break. For the sixth time this month some rich nobleman or other had enlisted her services to “remove the competition” as one put it. This next bounty was for the founder of a rival shipping company, Marco di Pasqua. Supposedly, he’d been taking all the recent shipments illegally and not going through the proper channels while on top of that committing illegal trade of drugs across the Twin Isles. She didn’t like playing politics so she couldn’t care less who died, as long as there was money on the line her knife would be in their back.

That same night she found the man’s residence, a four story office with plenty of entryways, and climbed a nearby rooftop making sure no one was around to notice her and took out her binoculars. She began scouting the outside, “One…two…three…four guards” she counted. This should be easy, she thought to herself, placing the binoculars back into her satchel and taking two daggers out. Swiftly, she jumped across rooftops, silent as a predator hunting its next prey.

The building was right in the center of town with no building close enough to jump safely to, thankfully Lysandra had thought to bring her grappling hook. After swinging it a bit in her hand she releases the hook and it snatches on to one the ledges of the third floor. “Now, here comes the fun part,” she mutters to herself. Tying the rope to a nearby chimney she wrapped her legs and arms around the rope, hugging onto it tightly she slowly shuffled her body forward over the large expanse.

Luckily, the third floor was a little lower than the rooftop she had been on so she was able to slide smoothly towards the window. Making it over with almost no trouble she twisted her body around, grabbed the ledge and placed her feet firmly. Taking out a small blade designed for glass cutting she completed one quick stroke forming a circle on the glass and when she placed pressure with her hand it fell into the room.

The room Lysandra entered seems very bare, with a few boxes strewn about almost as if someone forgot to finish unpacking. Someone clearly doesn’t care for interior decorating. Looking through the keyhole, Lysandra is able to spot two guards down the hallway, near the staircase to the next floor having a discussion she couldn’t hear the details of. Slowly, she opened the door and sneaked up towards the guards, hiding behind a massive bust. It wasn’t really her style sneaking up on people but in a place as silent as this Lysandra believed it best to not alert too many people of her presence.

“Gods, why do we keep getting night duty? Just once I would love to be home to see my kids and put them to sleep.”

“I feel you. My wife has been bugging me for weeks about it but hey, the pay is great.”

“Why don’t you just ask for day duty.” Lysandra said as she came out from behind the statue, holding a dagger in each hand. “I could never understand people like you who never voice what they want.”

The two guards turned around and pointed their swords towards Lysandra “What are you doing here? Little girls shouldn’t be poking around where they’re not allowed”

Suddenly, Lysandra leapt into the air, throwing one of her daggers into the neck of the first guard, blood splattering all over the face of the guard next to him as he fell to the ground, coughing up more blood and making unintelligible noises. Going with the momentum, Lysandra somersaulted just as her feet hit the ground ending up behind the other guard and she pierced her second dagger straight through his neck.

Pulling the dagger out, she wiped the blood off onto the guard’s body doing the same with the other dagger. “First off, I am not a little girl, and secondly, never underestimate your enemy. I thought they would’ve taught you that at guard training or something. I almost feel sorry for your wives.”

Climbing up the stairs lead to a singular hallway lined with paintings depicting the same middle aged, balding, fat man in different sets of clothing and positions. Someone has too much time on their hands Lysandra thought as she passed them making it to a set of doors. Peering through the keyhole, there is a massive circular room with a desk in the middle and no signs of life.

After a few minutes of trying to pick the lock it finally came undone and Lysandra quickly entered, closing the door behind her. Upon the walls are tusks and heads of monsters, large and small, behind the desk is the head of a massive ogre.

Odd, the intel stated he worked late nights, I would’ve thought he’d be in his office at least. Down the hallway laughter emerged, seemingly from more than one person. Looking around, there weren’t many places one could hide but the high ceiling did have large beams. Climbing the crevices among the stone wall, Lysandra placed herself flat on her stomach on one of the wooden beams just as the voices entered the room.

“So then I said ‘what’s it to you bitch?’” The larger man exclaimed, and the two both began to laugh. The other man, a much leaner and younger aged man finished laughing and stated “that was quite a funny tale, sir. I do hope one day I can have grand and hilarious tales such as yours”. The bigger man looked at him, “Aye lad, one day ye will but fer now enjoy ye youth. It won’t last long”.

“No, I don’t think it will,” Lysandra growled.

“Who said that?” The older man, Marco di Pasqua, asked, both men frantically searched for the direction of the voice until a sharp sound acquiesced and the younger man was flat on the floor, blood pooling around him and standing in his place, Lysandra. The other man rushed to his desk and frantically tapped something. “I’ve called me guards so ye better run before they get ‘ere.”

“Oh finally, some real action. It really is boring sneaking around killing people from behind. I do bore of it after a while.” As her sentence finished a group of five men burst through the doors each holding swords, pointing them at her.

“That’s her, she’s the one that killed Jeremiah! Kill her!” Marco screeched. Lysandra turned to face him, “My, you can’t bother to solve your own problems? Women must really hate you.” The sound of loud footsteps approached and she moved her head as a sword swung, narrowly missing her collarbone. Turning back to the guards, Lysandra pulled out her own sword and parried each strike. One guard was thrown off balance and she took his sword deflecting the next two attacks simultaneously.

Going on the offensive, Lysandra rushed to the nearest Guard and pierced his stomach leaving him to bleed out. The next two guards approached at the same time from separate directions, with quick thinking Lysandra dropped to the floor as both struck and hit each other, blood stained each other’s Armour and they simultaneously fell onto the floor right next to Lysandra. The next contender tried to strike her throat but she rolled over quickly and jumped back up to her feet. His sword was stuck in the floorboards and without giving him time to react, the bounty hunter swung at his neck, slicing him into two pieces. The head rolled towards the man behind the desk while Lysandra walked over to the addled guard on the floor and she stabbed him straight in the heart.

“What do ye want lass?” The man asked. “I can give ye all the gold in the world and make ye the richest woman ever? What do ye say?” She moved closer, leaning over the desk and whispered “I’d rather see your head roll like his” as she showcased the face of the beheaded guard, blood still fresh drooping onto the oak desk, the eyes lifeless.

The man smirked. “Well, that was ye last chance. Ye could’ve been livin’ the life. Too bad.” He pushed the desk forward, knocking Lysandra off balance and pressed a button which opened up a compartment in the floorboards, causing her to fall for what felt like minutes.

* * *

A throbbing pain echoed throughout Lysandra’s head. Opening her eyes she noticed the warm and cosy feel of the office had been replaced by jagged rock walls and an unnerving chill. Thankfully, she was saved from certain death by a comically placed amount of hay. “Finally, you’re awake” a voice states. “Who said that?” She asks and begins to stand up, taking out her sword.

From the shadows appears an elf wearing only a large piece of cloth and seeming incredibly thin. “Sorry if I startled you. The name’s Orrian.” Taking a closer look at where she ended up, Lysandra was shocked to think a place as expansive as this even existed under the city. The ceiling of the cave reached far beyond than what she could see down here and the width of space was much larger than the building she had just invaded.

That’s right, the building. Remembering her goal she dusted the hay off her cloak and black pants and began looking for ways out. “If you’re looking to leave that’s not possible,” The elf remarked. Lysandra turned around to face them “What?”

“This place, no one has escaped in years.” The elf stepped much closer that the bounty hunter could see the cheekbones of this weak being, even the limbs had no muscle on them. “Did you just say years? As in multiple years? Like more than 300 days?” The elf nodded. “How have you survived for so long?”

“With whatever scraps they gave us.” The elf replied. “And who are they?” Lysandra questions. “Our masters. Those from above that own us.” Own. Like some kind of property. Hearing that made Lysandra feel sick. “Own you. Now that’s just ridiculous. You should not be another person’s plaything that they can use whenever they feel like it.” Lysandra was starting to get heated. She’d met plenty of people that owned others, she had vowed to end them whenever she met these supposed owners. No one deserved to be superior, not in her eyes.

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“It’s not like we can just leave. There’s no way out.”

“Not by yourself of course.” Lysandra pulled out her grappling hook and began to swing it. “I came prepared.”

“What is that going to do? There’s no opening to this place, you would have to break down the door.” He wasn’t wrong, looking more intently at the walls Lysandra could tell that there was no indents or crevices to place her hands and feet even for someone so adept at climbing as her.

“And where is this door?” Lysandra asked. Orrian guided her towards a slab of metal with a sizeable slot in the middle, most likely to serve food to their slaves. Rummaging through her bag she found a fire crystal she had recently bought and carved the incineration incantation into it with her menhir.

The elf inquired about her bag and she discussed her many tools she brings everywhere including the menhir, a slender, stone tool designed for non-magic users to create incantations as long as they have an elemental aspected stone to enchant on. After the enchanting was complete she placed the fire stone upon the door and the metal began to melt creating a large enough opening to crawl through.

She helped Orrian through the door and looked around their surroundings, hoping to find some clue to lead to their escape. Instead all she could see was another large cylindrical room with other metal stone doors. “Are there other slaves here too?” She asked the elf. Orrian nodded, “There used to be many more but some got taken by the guards over time and haven’t been heard from since then.” It seemed to Lysandra that the drugs were just a cover up for an even more malicious crime, slave trafficking.

This revelation was the final straw. This man and his whole enterprise had to fall. Now. “Which door do they normally go through?” Following her guide led to a wooden door with no lock. Something felt off. Opening the door slightly led to no new information there were no guards posted outside, just a long and winding staircase.

Slowly, the two ascended the stairs trying to make no sound. After a few minutes Lysandra noticed Orrian began to slow down, his breathing becoming heavy. For Orrian, this was the most exercise he had gotten in years and climbing what feels like hundreds of steps would be a chore.

“We’re almost there, just a few more steps” Lysandra encouraged Orrian. Orrian chuckled breathily “You can say that but I’m not going to believe you.” Just as those words left his mouth Lysandra stopped moving. She could hear the sounds of heavy feet and armour clanking. She motioned for Orrian to move back and she hugged the wall tightly, closing her eyes to strengthen her other senses. Doing this allowed her to notice that there were only two maybe three guards approaching. Now would be the best time to catch them unaware.

The footsteps came closer, echoing through the stairwell and the voices became clearer. “Never could get used to this trek” A masculine voice mentioned. “Try doing this right after working your legs, they ache completely” A more feminine voice added. The two guards continue walking, making it right up to where Lysandra is hiding and continue moving not knowing the fate that awaits them as she comes from out of the shadows and thrusts both her daggers into their backs, right where the heart resides. The two fell over silently, blood stained their armour and the floor.

The two escapees walked further up the staircase and made it to a metal door not unlike the ones down below, only this time there appeared to be a padlock with a number that must be entered. “Crap” Lysandra vocalised, “I don’t have any other fire aspected stones”. Orrian moved closer to the door and fiddled with the padlock. The padlock falls to the floor and he pushed the door ajar.

“How on earth did you know the combination?” Lysandra asked. “The Guards aren’t the smartest people. They never thought we would be able to escape and may have mentioned once or twice what the answer was.” Lysandra began to believe her target only hired the dumbest people possible, they probably were incredibly cheap too.

Opening the door led back to the city. From what Lysandra could tell they were across from the place she infiltrated. Looking at her watch there was still plenty of time before he would leave the building and she knew it was now or never, he would most likely increase security after this little debacle today and she would rather not have to deal with even more incompetent guardsmen than today.

She looked back to Orrian and said, “Well this was fun. You’re free now so… good luck and best wishes.” She then began to approach the building. “Wait!” Orrian cried out. “You’re not seriously thinking of going back in?”

“Of course I have to go back in. If I don’t now, my bounty will escape!” Orrian looked puzzled, “But what am I to do?” he asked. “I don’t know, figure it out for yourself. That’s what free people do” she responded. “Well what would you do?”

She couldn’t answer him. She wasn’t free. Not actually anyway, she would always be bound by contract one way or another and with the amount of men she’d killed in the name of gold no place would hire her.

“Get away as far as possible from here. Find a job, get a home and settle. Make a family. Enjoy your freedom because it may never last.” And with that she waved goodbye and rushed to the building, scaled the walls and made it to the a fourth floor window. Peering in she could see Marco standing there, talking to two guards. Lysandra contemplated sneaking in but she was tired of hiding in the shadows for the night and using one of the heel of her right boot she shattered the window pane and jumped in.

Without giving time for a reaction she threw both daggers at the hearts of the men next to Marco and they dropped instantaneously. In the blink of an eye she had the slave owner over his own table looking down the end of her sword.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now” she demanded. “P-please” he begs, “I don’t mean no ‘arm. I only wish to be rich. Don’t ye? I’ll pay ye double- no triple the amount your customer is paying.” He flashed a sleazy smile. Lysandra couldn’t deny that being rich would solve plenty of her problems but there would be no more fun or sense of adventure in her life, no new hill to climb. “Even if you could make me rich I would rather die than take it from a man who enslaves people, taking their free will away and sells them to the highest bidder.”

Marco’s grin widened. “Who cares about them anyway? They weren’t going to get anywhere in life. They’re much better serving us born-to-be leaders.” Lysandra placed her boot on his crotch and stomped hard. Marco started to scream in pain, trying to squirm away but couldn’t as Lysandra’s other arm held him in place. “Say something like that again and I will make sure you will never be able to enjoy the pleasures of another woman ever again.”

“Before you do that I must know. Who did hire you?” Lysandra seemed puzzled. For a man who is faced with a sword at his throat he didn’t seem to care too much about it. “His name is Dean Hudson.” At the mention of the name Marco’s smile becomes even bigger. “Oh? That old thing. Didn’t you know, he also trades in slaves.” “What?” Her grip loosened a little and with that momentum Marco kicked her in the shins, pushing her to the ground.

Marco made a run for the door but before he could make it out Lysandra tore her dagger out of one of the guards and tore straight through his shin. He began to scream in pain, begging her to stop. “Have fun in hell, demon spawn” she remarked as she placed her sword upon his neck and sliced clean through, the blood splattering out and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Lysandra couldn’t believe the turn of events of the night. The man who had hired her, a slave owner? Surely not, it would be hypocritical for her to condemn only one who has committed the same crime. If he was like Marco said, he too would have to pay for his crimes. After he paid of course. For now she would return to him with a memento.

* * *

The room Lysandra entered was one of pure luxury. There was a chaise lounge placed right next to a fireplace, a desk housing multiple stacks of paper and velvet curtains that draped the large circular window across from the entrance, at the moment a crow was perched upon it. At that desk was an older man with short, greying hair at the roots and a pair of glasses. He was writing something upon one of the papers and didn’t react to the blood stained presence that had just entered.

Lysandra walked towards his desk and threw a dismembered hand marked with a gold ring on the middle finger onto the paper the middle-aged man was writing on. At that disturbance he finally looked up from his work and stared at the bounty hunter, taking in her dishevelled look. The fresh blood had begun to dry on her leather corset and pants, some was even on her pale skin and in her silver hair.

“You could have at least washed up first before bringing me the confirmation of your kill.” The man who spoke was Dean Hudson, the man who had hired Lysandra to kill Marco di Pasqua and bring an item of the deceased to keep as some sort of a memento. It felt wrong to Lysandra for him to want a memento for a kill he didn’t do himself but she doesn’t question the strange requests made by her employers.

“I would’ve but I don’t want to have to clean my clothing twice in one night. It gets tiring.” Lysandra took out one of her daggers and began to wipe it on her black vambraces. “Oh? And what other reason would you require to murder someone else tonight.” Dean inquired. “I don’t know. It depends on the answers to my questions.” Lysandra began to bounce the dagger in the air. “And what questions might those be?”

“You don’t happen to own slaves do you?” Dean froze. “S-Slaves? I am the proud owner of a shipping company. Pray tell, why would I need slaves?” “Not for you. Perhaps when you ship items they include living beings?”

Dean stood up. “Preposterous! How dare you accuse me of this. Unless you have ironclad evidence of me owning or selling slaves I would ask you to take your gold and leave.” He takes out a pouch and places it on the desk. “So if I were to go into your basement there wouldn’t be malnourished and helpless people deprived of basic decency?” Dean began to fidget.

“That’s what I thought.” Lysandra unsheathed her sword. “Wait no-” Before he could finish the sentence he was laying over his paperwork, his personal red ink overwriting the overly dramatic and artificial words. At least he doesn’t have to do any more paperwork Lysandra thought. She took the pouch off the desk and checked all her gold was inside. Noting it was all there she turned to leave as a clapping sound rang out.

“I must say, a brilliant show darling.” The voice was deep and husky, very unfamiliar to anyone Lysandra knew. Looking at the window was a tall, pasty human dressed in a silk white shirt and dark pants, his irises as black as the night and short messy hair encompassed his head.

“And who might you be?” Lysandra drew her sword for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Now now kitten.” he purred, “Always so feisty, ready to jump at the first sign of movement.” He dropped off the windowsill and bowed to her. “You may call me, Crow.”

“And why, pray tell, are you right here, right now?” Lysandra questioned. “That is because I have been watching you, little lady. Ever since you began this bounty.” He placed himself on the chaise lounge and inspected his nails. “I must say it was quite entertaining. Right when you had him under your thumb, you fumble and fell down a hole. I thought you were a goner but there you were a few hours later and with another elf in tow.” So, it was clear to Lysandra he wasn’t bluffing. “Why would you be so interested in me? I’m not that important.”

“Oh but you are, darling” He got off the chaise lounge and walked up to Lysandra, placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so their gazes met. Upon closer inspection it was evident to Lysandra that there was no life behind this man’s eyes. Something was very wrong.

“Word around town is you are one of the best bounty hunters in Neveh.” Lysandra took a step back and tried to find the best way out of here in the event something went awry. “Don’t worry love, I’m not here to hurt you. Just to provide you with another business opportunity.”