Mia distractedly watched as her father, for once not a picture of calm, strode up and down his office. A well illuminated place with many documents and books lining the walls. He hadn't had the will to make them meet in a more stereotypical manner.

“Are you sure that there is absolutely no chance of the fiasco at the dungeon being followed back to us?” He asked once again, sounding stressed.

It was... disillusioning. To see one of the pillars of her life, that had always held steadfast, crumble so fast under the pressure of something that she'd just seen another man endure with nary a thought.

“Yes, Father.”

Miat ran a hand down his face. “The event has already been used for political purposes, making it unlikely for the truth to ever come to light. The guild leader of the adventurer's will certainly never allow it now that he has already claimed it was one of his brilliant strokes of genius that prevented the dungeon from being destroyed.” He mumbled at a staggering pace, wringing his hands. “But he may send out someone to silence the actual killers of those nobles, to preserve his lie. But that would mean that more people would need to know the truth, the man is no investigator, and certainly no assassin.” The words spilled forth from her father like a waterfall, before he eventually buried his face in his hands with a strangled sound of frustration.

Mia felt herself beginning to disassociate from the situation. Her soul leaving her body and allowing her to spectate the theatre play from over her own shoulder. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the slight fever. She found the current situation to be entirely beneath her.

What would have Lock done in this situation?

Gather information, think on it, make a plan, and patiently execute it while still being flexible enough to change it at the drop of a hat. Like he'd done when ambushing the Castouts, like he'd done with chasing down Light, like he'd done with the bandits that had been trying to ambush Harald in what appeared to be an entire year ago. A hand unconsciously went up to rub at her still bruised neck, hidden beneath her scarf.

Like he'd done with her when she'd almost compromised the mission.

In comparison to his mastery of the situation. The current state of panic that her father, and her twin, no, Tia, were undergoing... It was... She'd never thought that she would use the word in describing her own family, but it was disappointing.

It was an odd feeling, to look upon one's father, and to reverse the roles, becoming the one who found him wanting, instead of the other way around. But it was a feeling that she imagined she was going to get familiar with in the near future. Now that she had a comparison.

She wondered if he'd been better in his youth. Her mother had been the one who had taught her that Ninjas needed someone to dedicate themselves too. Had he been the best she could find at the time? If so, was everyone else simply so much worse?

She looked down at her hands as Tia and Father continued to rile each other up into a frenzy. They used to be just hands, but now they felt like something else. Something less. Sacks of meat lacking direction. Lacking purpose.

Her heart ached. She yearned to prostrate herself before someone worthy and to declare her mother's family words. 'Your will, my hands.'

A spark ignited within her mind, bringing her crashing back into reality. Into her body. Lock had given her orders, to reflect on her desire to follow him. It had at the time, frustrated her. Why couldn't he see that her request to be used by him was earnest?

But he had, as she'd previously already considered, simply been going off of the information at hand. In his eyes she was likely but a child. Children changed their minds on every whim and wish. She wondered if he looked at her as she would look at a nine-year-old. Would it even be unjustified? He was simply using a young body, likely being several times older than her. It was only natural that he was leery of her so called yearning.

He'd made the correct call, unable to read her mind, in letting her think on her decision. If, after three weeks, she still wished to become his tool, of which there was no doubt, then he could let her prove herself. If however she did not, then it was better to not have her in the first place.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He'd made the correct decision, and if he had made any other, would he be the man that she wished to follow?

No.

The three weeks were necessary, not for her to actually reflect on her want. But for the very simple fact that with making her wait, he'd proven once and for all that he was someone intelligent, someone prudent enough, to use her to her fullest potential once he gripped her hilt.

The three weeks, were if anything, a formality. A processing of an application. Time for her to hone herself to a sharp edge worthy of her wielder. For once, the amount of training that stood before her left her undaunted. The opposite really. It left her eager. Looking forward to optimize the process as much as she could to eek out every single drop of potential held within her body. She'd finally found a person that was worthy of making her transmute all her potential into reality. She would need help however.

Mia stood up, being peripherally aware that the action caused Miat and Tia to stop their paranoia induced frenzy and look up at her from their positions sitting at, and before the desk.

She left the room without a word, walking through the immaculately cleaned house towards the room she shared with her sister, and started packing. It was an odd feeling, trying to decide what to take with her. Some of the things in her possession felt like they were relics of the past, things that she'd once enjoyed possessing, but that now left her cold, disgusted with her previous self. Her romance and adventure books, her toys…

In the end the only thing that she packed into her satchel was her ninja equipment and the money that she'd saved up over the years. She dressed in the peasant clothing that Lock had insisted she buy to seek him out at his apartment domicile without being noticed. She considered for a short moment to leave through the window, as she was wont to do, but decided against it.

Leaving through the front door was the option that she eventually picked. It was oddly exhilarating to only receive a few interested glances from people who'd never actually seen anyone exit their family home through the front door in the past, before she completely blended into the masses of people around her.

The only gazes directed her way were lecherous ones, although even those seemed to be less fervent than what she'd received two days ago when she'd made her way to Locks'. The crowd buzzed around her, and she caught some snippets of words that revealed to her the reason of why she felt less gazes glued to the sway of her hips.

The dungeon.

An understandable emotional distraction from simply another pretty young woman.

She wondered what the reaction of the masses would have been had the nobles actually succeeded in their task. Them being slaughtered like animals in the dungeon, failing their mission, had already elicited a riot and a fight between the peasants, the adventurers, and the city guard.

It was a heady feeling, to know something that almost nobody else knew. Four people, her mind whispered. Miat, Tia, Lock, and her. It was an even more heady feeling to know that she'd participated in an event, despite no one knowing this, that might have very well changed the entire political landscape of Abrakshana. Her! A level seven, now level eight Ninja. Changing the course of history with no one being the wiser. Sure, she'd been but a tool, wielded by someone else. In fact she was fairly sure that she hadn't made a single autonomous decision over the last two days. But that was the pride of a Ninja. Did a paintbrush not deserve to have its own pride, after it had been used by a painter of great renown, to create a painting that would enrapture the hearts of thousands? Did a sharp knife not deserve it's own pride for being picked by a master chef to help in making an amazing dish?

Did Mia not deserve her own pride for having been used by her master to fulfil his selfish desires, which had inadvertently changed the course of history?

She might have been a bit biased, but she considered the answer to be a resounding yes.

It was a yes that she wanted to apply to many of the same questions in the future. She could already envision it, a blade kept under the pillow, a blade strapped to his belt, a blade slitting the throats of his enemies, a blade being sharpened by his hands.

A blade being cherished by its owner.

A pleasant shiver ran down her body as she envisioned a long future of daring escapades and history-altering events and the man she would be sharing them with naturally.

She blushed, and an old lady she walked by on her way to her destination gave her a smile and some words about 'young love'.

-/-

It wasn't long before she made her way out of the city, alongside, she noted, many other people. Probably the ones who could afford to leave until the situation calmed down. She walked with the mass of refugees for a while, but at some point on the road towards Blinffmul, veered off of the road sharply, to some curious looks, and took to the trees once completely out of sight.

She noted the runes carved into the ground as she passed them, and the magical barrier that brought her some unpleasantness as she ran through it. She ran along the road of green until she came into sight of a ran-down hut. Her exiled Great-grandmother's hunched down form already waiting for her outside of it, a crooked and toothless grin being sent her way. She was leaning on a cane now, something new. It brought to mind that she hadn't been here for ten years, ever since Mother had died. She jumped down from the tree bordering on the clearing that the hut was in and landed before the dilapidated building.

“Oh dearie, Mia, is that you?” Her great-grandmother's kindly voice made its way in her ears, nary a whisper. “I know that look in your eyes. A girl enraptured. It brings back memories of myself when I was your age.” She stepped forward to stroke her cheek. “You've finally imprinted I see, and by your widened pupils you've done so on someone with more potential than the gnat that my foolish granddaughter picked. Unless you have even worse taste. Come in, come in.” She said, disappearing into the hut.

Mia followed her inside, finding two steaming cups of tea already taking up the small table at which she promptly sat down. She'd been expected.

Green eyes locked with red as she met the gaze of her Great-grandmother.

The Head Enforcer of the Bloody Usurper smiled a crooked grin, “Tell me everything dearie.”

Mia began telling her story