Silent glares and soundless threats - there was much more to a conversation than the words spoken. Realistically speaking, words were no more than means to an end; the main point behind a social interaction was the intent behind it.

It could be a simple objective such as furthering one's relationships, or not. In the majority of cases though, the intent was much deeper and complex than that.

Such was Heitor's current situation. At a far corner in the guild, he sat alone, waiting. Likewise, his pursuers sat by themselves in their own corners, observing his actions.

He knew they were following him, and they knew that too. Now, it was a matter of patience which decided who would be able to talk to him first.

Landing his eyes on one of them, he decided who was the lucky one. The stranger nodded before walking towards Heitor. Her competitors bore their eyes on her back, a murderous intent oozing from their glare.

Sitting opposite to him, she politely asked, "Excuse me, sir, do you mind?"

Heitor didn't utter a sound, but instead stared at her - like she was doing something wrong. What exactly? She had no idea.

Painfully slow seconds dragged themselves as both stayed silent.

Then it clicked - she still had her hood on. Pulling it back, she let her blonde hair fall loose.

For a slight moment, Heitor was stunned. She had bewitching almond-shaped green eyes, with a scar running down her right cheek. There was a sharpness about her demeanor, like she was on the razor's edge constantly.

Flashing a smile, he said, "That's better. Now... might you tell me why you and your friends were following me?"

Tapping her fingers on the table, she remained quiet.

The man was dangerous - she realized. Dealing with someone aware of his surroundings was way trickier than those who were oblivious. She had to seize the opportunity to recruit him before the others got to him or he to them.

And of course, stating that they weren't her companions would put her at disadvantage.

"We've been looking for recruits for our guild, the Quiet Knife, and you seem to be a perfect candidate." She opened her arms to emphasize her point, "So, what do you say?"

Short and brief, the perfect strategy for acquiring a new trainee.

Tilting her head, Agatha asked, "Then they are your friends, why don't you invite them to sit?"

Immediately, a frown formed on her eyebrows. As a recruiter, she had come across all sorts of people, and she was a good judge of character. Heitor had something wrong with him, but much worse than simply talking alone. For a flimsy moment, his whole behavior changed.

It was almost like another person inhabited his body. His posture straightened itself, his voice alternated to a lower pitch, and his facial expressions took a 180 degrees shift.

The worst part of it all was the gleam in his eyes - it was as cold and lifeless as those of a doll, or a dead body.

Biting her tongue, she wore her confident expression back. But it was too late already, he had completely seen through her facade - the others weren't her friends.

Gesturing to them, he made sure his message passed across - come and sit here, he told them without words. They promptly replied by going towards his table. Just as they were settling down though, Heitor reached out to grip the arm of one of the men.

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"That place is occupied." He said, barely keeping his strength in check. The man also drew his dagger, going for his neck without hesitation.

The other two pointed their weapons at the man as well. Instantly, the whole Guild looked over to their spot. No one voiced a single letter, ready to kill at any given time. A thin line of blood slid down Heitor's neck. That dagger sure was sharp.

After short but tense seconds, the blonde finally spoke, "Everyone will sheath their weapons back." She stared at the others before continuing, "We are making a scene here."

Steadily they eased their grip on their weapons, and Heitor let go of the man's arm with a smug smile plastered on his face. The cloaked man chose to forget about Heitor - there were always people out there willing to be recruited.

"Now... where were we?" Agatha asked while using the table's towel to wipe off Heitor's blood.

"Oh yes, the introductions!" Heitor answered her, slightly startling them, "Hi, my name is Heitor. How should I call you?"

"You can call me Bella." She replied, trying her best to smile but failing miserably. Even though she was an assassin, she couldn't help but feel uneasy around him. It felt like he could snap at any point, being the unpredictable and unreasonable person that he appeared to be. Normally, she was used to working in controlled environments, so the lack of predictability left her unsettled.

"And I am Percival." The other one answered, still wearing his hood.

Narrowing his eyes, Heitor muttered under his breath, "Fake names?" He asked nobody as he leaned more to his left side, like someone whispered into his ear, "Doesn't matter." He nodded.

"So - why are you two following me?" He finally asked, "And you better tell the truth."

This time Bella couldn't lie that Percival was her companion. She was totally outmaneuvered.

"I come from the Valedorian Thieves' Guild, and I am here for the same reason as her."

Smiling, Heitor asked, "So what are your job proposals?

The next few hours could only be described as a job interview; in which instead of the candidate trying to get the job, it was the recruiter who sought to get the applicant.

In the end, the correct choice was pretty clear. Although the Quiet Knife didn't offer much money, they had their own tutoring course which included both magic and combat training. Not only that, but he had managed to arrange a special clause in his contract - his targets' bodies were his to do whatever he fancied.

Both exited the Adventurers' Guild, Bella escorting him to the Quiet Knife's hideout. As they treaded through the narrow alleys in perpetual silence, she started regretting her decision. Was it the right choice to recruit Heitor?

Of course, it wasn't every day she found someone capable of smiling when with a dagger on their neck. He had the guts for the job, that's for sure, but should he be trusted? He didn't exude a sense of reliability - he looked more like the type of person who did things on a whim, without a care for the consequences. And that was only the tip of the iceberg of her concerns.

After all, what was he going do with a human body? To defile a dead corpse was well outside of a normal assassin's behavior. No... it was more aligned with those who had a thirst for blood, and the ones who performed dark rituals and sacrifices. Who was to say when the Guild would become his next target? Should they train someone like that? Should they trust their back to him?

Nevertheless, it didn't matter for now, because those answers could only be answered with time. What was done was done.

The further they went inside the city, the dirtier the streets became, almost like a different place altogether from the dazzling capital. A few beggars wandered through those branching alleys, always asking for a penny when possible. The smell was a disgusting mixture between shit and garbage, blending in with the petty scenery. Even Bella who knew the streets with the back of her hand couldn't stand the stench.

Heitor, on the other hand, almost felt at home - in his own convoluted way.

Yet another question to her notebook of misgivings about him.

Finally, they arrived at the Quiet Knife. Even Heitor recognized it, being the sore spot that it was. It was built at the end of an alley; its walls were composed of dark oak, and the whole structure took a liking to support columns and high ceilings. All in all, it reminded a lot or a church, except for the engraving in its front stone doors - a vicious snake coiling around a long knife.

There was a carving indicating where one should put their hands.

"Welcome to the Quiet Knife." She said while putting her palm over the door. Instantly, the doors slid aside as a mesmerizing light traveled across its surface.

Classic chandeliers decored the ceiling, casting their light onto the place. It looked more akin to a tavern than an assassin hideout. People laughed and drank inside, enjoying the food offered by the chefs.

But then, just as Heitor entered the establishment, everyone quieted down.

"You still have to prove your worth before being admitted. Until then, you are a stranger in here." Bella's voice broke the stillness of the Guild, "You start today at night. Talk to Bruce, he will handle your first contract."

"Good luck, newblood." She concluded before leaving him by himself.