The Viscount’s son was making his way back to a quiet spot, as the moon cast its light on him and his company.

On a usual night, his late escapades would find him drunk, with the arm of an unfortunate girl wrapped around his waist. Misled by his empty promises of salvation and riches, she’d waddle alongside of him. His personal guards would watch over him to ensure his safety and deal with the girl, any way they’d see fit, after she’d fulfil her purpose and service the boy. Then they would escort him back to his private quarters, where he would sleep until late the following afternoon, much to his father’s annoyance and disappointment.

But that wasn’t a usual night.

For the young woman next to him wasn’t his usual victim. She’d sought his attention more than any other lass that night, but she wasn’t interest in his empty promises, nor his carnal needs.

She was a huntress and he was that night’s prey.

She expertly led him along the shore, away from the safety the prosperous side of the city provided and deeper into the common area of smiths, carpenters and labourers. It was still unclear why it’d been so easy to lure him in. Had her pretentious infatuation been so believable? Had his guards grown used to following the drunk, lustful young man that they’d overlooked the undeniable glint in the huntress’ eyes or how she measured them? Whichever the case, all other contingency plans she’d prepared for proved needless.

Closer and closer they came to the commons, an area the night patrols were barely efficient in. Just a few guards sulked outside the taverns to break up any big fights that might result in grave injuries. They allowed most tussles to play out and then they’d report to whoever master was interested about the dealings of their hirelings. For a fee of course.

When the road reached the taverns the lowlifes would gather in, she took them up the north fork, which if followed for two hundred paces led to the market. As they passed in front of the night patrol, she felt the eyes of the men on her lightly exposed legs and back and their jealousy could create sparks across the night air.

Little did they know that for that particular night, none should wish to trade places with the Viscount’s son and catch her interest.

The boy’s guards exchanged some quiet words with the patrolmen, barely keeping an eye on the couple they were supposed to follow and protect. The huntress allowed the young man to grope her, kiss her, but pulled him on and on. When the road curved to the east, the guards had to race after them, though none too eagerly. As they rounded about the corner, their helmets clang together and before either realized what was happening, they both collapsed at the feet of a large brute clad in all black.

At the sound of steel against steel, even the ever-drunk young man turned. His head rolled back and his eyes went wide. He searched his surroundings frantically for anything he recognised, to get his bearings, but being the spoiled noble he was, he had never stepped so far away from the prestigious areas of Boatwright. As a known coward, he tried to place the girl in his arms between the brute and himself.

A grave mistake.

With his hands on her shoulders and his arms stretched away from his body, he provided the perfect opportunity for the concealed dagger along her thigh to penetrate his skin and heart before he could utter a single word or attempt flight, though where he would go no one could ever guess. She didn’t miss the chance and pushed her blade into his chest. She held it there until he slumped down on the paved road, the life of him gone from his body sooner than his blood touched the ground.

“Took you long enough.” teased the brute. “Are you losing your touch, sister?” His booming chuckle echoed in the deserted road, earning him a glare.

“Let’s get this over with. I need to get out of this degrading outfit. My clothes, if you will.” replied the sister after she carefully wiped the blood of her victim off her dagger on his own shirt. The steel blade returned to its original black colour. She examined her favourite blade and eased it back in its sheath.

“I thought we’d use it to get out of the city…” he trailed off pointing at the dress, confusion evident on his face.

She showed him the bloodied sleeves. “He bled on it and I’ve had enough of the innocent damsel act for one night. It’s a wonder he even fell for it in the first place, I doubt I’ll convince anyone else tonight.” She reached for her trousers, put them on and then proceeded to rip the dress, spreading cloth around the corpse and next to it creating a path towards where she would supposedly be dragged. Her brother handed her a shirt over his shoulder and once again, she found herself in familiar and comfortable attire. “You can turn around. Let’s go.”

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“What about them? Shouldn’t we leave some sort of message?” he asked rolling one of the guards over, on his back, with his foot.

“No need. The cloth and our performance will suffice. Our orders are clear…” She reminded him securing her weapons. “…Gather information and eliminate the Viscount’s son. Both done. Move it, Max, before they wake up.” She commanded, already making her way east towards the quarters of the commoners.

The siblings had chosen the time and ambush point quite well, for only one avenue away stood the inn, which for the past few days housed the emissaries from Mountmend, the city due north of Boatwright, right at the edge of the Dark Highlands, the tall, treacherous mountain range which seemed to cut their land in half.

The people of Mountmend were responsible for keeping the west main road safe from bandits who tried to take advantage of the narrow passage, only a few miles long before one reached the woods of Hollow Grove and its dangers. With a task as such, the Mountmenders took it upon themselves to elicit tolls, the subject of the proceeding negotiations, since the capital didn’t have any objections to the tolls and the Mountmenders’ requests as long as the tribute of provisions arrived on time.

The siblings’ orders had been simple. They were to assassinate the Viscount’s son and do so in a way the murder could be traced back to the emissaries. So the siblings did as requested. With some coin in the right pockets, people had strongly advised the newcomers of decent taverns to spend the evening, a specific one being the top choice. The same as the young man’s widely known preference. The sister had made sure to catch the eye of one lonely emissary, before the boy arrived with his guards. The brother had acquired a matching uniform to the newcomer’s patrol and sat close at hand.

Knowing the type of girl the Viscount’s son fancied, she dressed the part of the usual victims, down to the last detail, efficiently catching his eye when his search for companionship had begun. But of course, to the spoiled heir, used to always having his way, little did it matter that another had already been courting her.

That night had been no different and he had approached the couple smugly. Words had been exchanged before the brother, pretending to watch over the emissary, had come between the two men until the order to stand down had come.

The young man’s guards had had a good look on the helmet and overall outfit of the fake bodyguard, so unless their bashed heads caused memory loss, when they’d finally arise, they would report back to the Viscount of the previous night’s dealings. Combined with the shredded dress by his son’s lifeless body and the disappearance of his female companion, turmoil would ensue. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if the emissaries were sent back to their hometown dead. In pieces.

But the siblings planned to be far away from Boatwright by that point. And so, they made their way to the peasants’ area in the east part of town, closest to the stonework fortifications. They used stealth to avoid detection from the single group of officers they encountered. With the cover of the night and the alleys they had memorized for their escape to aid them, they reached the area easily, without any trouble. Not too long after their target’s heart stopped beating, they came upon the city gates where four watchmen stood vigilant.

“We could take them on.” she said unhooking her bow from her backpack.

“Sera, we can’t leave a string of bodies leading outside. It’s supposed to be a hit from the inside.” he chastised, though he wasn’t entirely sure himself how they could avoid such a thing.

He was still contemplating their situation when a fire broke out at the far back of the stables in front of them, a hundred paces west of the open gates, open for there had been no indication of danger in many cycles.

Astonished, he turned towards his sister who simply shrugged. “We can get out now, can’t we?”

He shook his head and followed swiftly after her. Once they crossed the city boundary they turned east, cutting through the farms rather than stay on the main road eventually leading to the capital. The rich soil gave out under their boots leaving its stains while they made their way forward to the edge of the prosperous land, where hidden through trees their horses awaited, tended by their guild’s operator in the city.

A flimsy fellow by the name of Martin, he had managed to infiltrate Boatwright over a decade prior and find shelter as a stable boy. He may have had no love for the empire, in accordance with the rest of the guild, but the beasts he was very fond of and it showed in his work. He managed to climb up the ranks and become the city’s horse master and thus stayed unhindered all that time, gathering information on behalf of the guild or provided a place to stay for other roamers.

“Should I expect any trouble on my way back?” he asked the duo when they had mounted their horses.

“A small fire at the western edge of the stables. No beast is hurt though.” She answered and Martin’s eyes bulged out, in fear for his horses, her words nowhere near reassuring thanks to her posture and signs of indifference.

Nonetheless, he nodded and mounted his own stead. “Maxwell, Seraphina, farewell. My greeting to our beloved Shepherds.” They bowed their heads in return and all three horses sped off, two to the east, one back west.