"You stupid wench!" was what the Duchess looked like she was about to say. But, Dolores Bargunri bit her tongue at the last moment, her eyes darting back and forth amidst the throng of onlookers. Years of training in maintaining composure during public appearances had finally kicked in.
The drumbeats ceased, the revelry paused, and the room descended into an eerie hush, save for the gentle weeping of Selena, who groveled and begged for forgiveness.
Beside the Duchess stood her honor guard, a mountain of a man with a neck so thick that if a guillotine's blade were to fall upon it, it would be the blade that would shatter, not his neck.
Wazed couldn't recall the man's name, but his imposing stature, perpetual scowl, and unwavering presence around the Duchess made him unforgettable.
Dolores, though she held back the words, there was little she could to relax the crease across her forehead. Looming over Selena like a reaper, it seemed as though she might unleash her fury upon the girl with a vicious kick, a crushing stomp, and another kick for good measure.
But instead, she barked out, "Get up, girl. I won't pretend I'm not livid, but commoners are bred to make mistakes. However..." She surveyed the assembled crowd, as if delivering a grand oration. "Forgiveness is the highest virtue. You have the right to err, and it's my duty to forgive. Now come, and aid me in my change of attire."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by a scattering of applause that gradually swelled into a thunderous ovation. "Hail the Duchess!" the masses cried, praising her for her mercy.
Selena rose from the ground, head bowed. "Yes, my lady...thank you," she muttered under her breath.
But a knot of unease coiled in Wazed's gut. He couldn't quite explain why. Selena had been granted a reprieve, at least in public. Yet he knew better.
The Duchess was notorious for her cruelty, a trait that had evidently trickled down to her middle child. While the outbursts were said to be infrequent, and Wazed himself had yet to witness one in his three months of service, her bouts of cruelty were well-known among the servants. Even the blue-robes, with their lofty status, tread lightly around her, as though walking on eggshells.
Rumors circulated that a maidservant had once shattered the Duchess's beloved teacup. The next day, she vanished without a trace.
But even if the same fate befell Selena, why should Wazed care? It was not his concern. He was here to carry out the mission given to him by his master. That was all that should matter to him.
As Dolores strode out of the lower hall, flanked by her honor guard and Selena, the drums resumed their lively beat and the revelers continued their boisterous dance.
Murmurs rippled through the surrounding throng of brown-robed servants. "Poor girl," some whispered. "It's all over for her," others lamented. But Wazed paid them no heed as he pushed the food trolley toward the host's table.
Over at the host's table sat a dark-haired boy forlornly in his chair, no more than six years of age. He was Tyrel Bargunri, the third son. Beside him stood Hilda, a wrinkled woman and the sole blue-robe assigned to the lower hall. She held his hand, offering what little comfort she could.
"Where has mother gone?" Tyrel whispered.
"Fear not, my lord. She shall return soon. Look, your meal has arrived. You must be famished. I assure you that by the time you finish eating, the Duchess will be back," Hilda reassured him with a kind smile.
"Promise?" Tyrel looked up at her with big, round eyes.
"I promise," she replied.
Hilda turned to Wazed and raised an eyebrow. "You are Kier, yes? Serve the young master his food with care and attention."
"As you command, Servitor," Wazed dutifully answered.
With practiced hands, he pushed the food tray onto the host's table and deftly served the young lord. The boy's face lit up at the sight of the meal. Selena would have enjoyed this part. She loved seeing people happy, especially Tyrel, her favorite among all the Duke's sons. Tyrel's gentle disposition was a striking contrast to Novic's. "His smile alone was a reward on its own," Selena...
Wazed shook his head, dismissing the thought. Why was he thinking about her again? Was he starting to care about someone? He, a murderer? A thief? A tool that only served to kill? After all the lives he’d taken? The notion baffled him.
Or maybe there was another reason for his thoughts. Perhaps he feared Dolores getting in the way of his plans. She was unionized with Bartrem and had access to his magic. Dangerous magic. Her mysterious bodyguard was also someone to watch out for. Yes, he ought to keep an eye on them and gather more information before they became a major threat.
Wazed slunk away, melting into the shadows while the blue-robe attended to the young lord. He weaved his way through the revelers, gingerly balancing the tray of food and cutlery in one hand. If he encountered any guards, he could simply say he was following the Duchess's orders to deliver a meal to her chambers.
Of course, as per plan, he wasn't supposed to leave the lower hall before the first bell, which would ring to signify the anointment ceremony for the newborn in the upper hall. But a little reconnaissance wouldn't hurt. In fact, it might just help him avoid any unforeseen obstacles.
The corridor he found himself in was spacious and silent, with polished marble floors that swallowed up his footsteps. To the left were a series of doors leading to the resting chambers. The last door in the row, at the far end of the corridor was different from the others. Wazed edged closer, hoping the Duchess was inside and hadn't taken Selena to any of the dungeons he knew all too well.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
He turned his attention inward, his mind centered on the collection of faces he had acquired. For a faceless, they meant everything.
[Skill: Visage | Grade: undefined | cost: 0.01% MP per minute]
{Face 1: Rollo Hughes | Swiftblade}
{Face 2: Dana Naljis | Soundweaver}
{Face 3: Vougen Da’ath | Cryomancer}
{Face 4: Mon Pho | Psion}
{Face 5: Jerad House | Hemomancer}
{Face 6: Salem Duse | Trapsetter}
Six in total, it had taken seven years of hard work and bloodshed to amass them.
Wazed leaned in, his eye pressed to the keyhole, peering into the luxurious room beyond. It was adorned with expensive rugs and an ornate chandelier, but his focus was on the honor guard standing beside a double bed. Selena was in his grip, her arms held tight and her bare body pointed towards Dolores.
The Duchess grinned as she toyed with the pliers in her hand. "I've always wondered what kind of face someone would make if I tore off a nipple with this," she mused, the tool clanging with each movement. "But I never acted on my desire. It's too cruel. But you, my dear, are a special one. A special person deserves special treatment."
Selena's eyes widened in fear as Dolores approached her, the pliers hovering threateningly close to her body. "Did you know the dress you just ruined was one commissioned to the royal tailor?" Dolores continued, a hint of anger in her voice. "I've had to wait a year to get this dress. And believe me when I say that this dress is worth more than your life!"
Tears streamed down Selena's face as she whimpered and begged for mercy. "Please," she pleaded. "I beg you, my lady. Please don't do this."
Wazed's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist, his heart pounding in his ears like a war drum. He tore his gaze away from the keyhole and drew in short, ragged breaths as he stared at his shaking hand. Every fiber of his being was screaming for blood. He slammed his eyes shut.
No.
He turned and moved slowly, one foot after the other, down the same path he had just walked. There was nothing he could do, he told himself. This did not concern him, he told himself. Selena had brought this upon herself. The blue-robes had warned her about her tendency to prattle, yet she did nothing to curb it. A fool she was, and everyone knew that a fool's life was easily forfeit.
The only fool who had ever shown him kindness.
Wazed spun around. The plate of food and utensils he held in his hands fell, clattering loudly to the ground, except for the knife, which he kept gripped tightly in his hand.
The skin around his neck began to prickle and bubble like boiling water. He reached up to grip the skin, his fingers digging in as he prepared for the pain. Slowly, he began to peel the skin diagonally, as though it were a delicate layer of jelly. He worked his way up across his nose, then up to his forehead, then the back of his head, and then with a final tug, he tore off the ends of the skin at the nape of his neck.
He stared at his reflection on the steel plate that had dropped to the floor. A different face stared back at him. It was freckled, young, and hairless—the face of Rollo Hughes, a noble whose life he had claimed years ago.
[New Class Detected: Swiftblade]
[Skill(s) Available:
{Sort By: Most Recent}
(Haste | Grade: E1 | Cost: 50 MP/m)
(Sonic Dash | Grade: D5 | Cost: 440 MP)
(Cyclone Kick | Grade: B2 | Cost: 1800 MP)
…see more.]
Wazed channeled all of his mana to his legs, feeling as though a fountain had burst within him, and a downpour of energy streamed towards his lower body, his legs were engulfed in shimmering red and white light, appearing as though they were on the brink of exploding.
He twisted the doorknob and hurled the door open, drawing everyone's attention to him.
There was a moment of silence as Dolores stared at him, utterly perplexed.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
The honor guard flung Selena onto the bed and growled, reaching for the hilt of his broadsword.
"I’m sorry," Wazed muttered…
[Skill: Sonic Dash | Grade: D5 | Cost: 440 MP]
…before launching himself at the guard with incredible velocity, knife held out to the side. The blade sliced through the side of the guard's neck as Wazed dashed by, and the man fell to his knees, his hand dropping the weapon with a clang before he tumbled to the floor. Blood gushed out of his throat as his body convulsed and writhed.
It had been easier than anticipated. He had expected the honor guard to be more of a challenge, but in the end, his brawn and build were nothing but a facade. Or was he just too strong?
Wazed pivoted to face Dolores, who was frozen in shock until their eyes locked. Dolores yelped and retreated, holding out her palm. "Burn, you piece of shit," she snarled as a gust of flame began to take shape in her hand, heating up the air around it.
But Wazed was faster. His legs lit up with energy as he propelled himself at Dolores, who could only gape in horror as his foot connected with her head, snapping her neck and sending her head flying into the wall with a sickening thud. Blood splattered everywhere as Dolores' headless body writhed on the ground, convulsing for a few moments before falling still.
He breathed heavily, his adrenaline pumping, as he glanced around the room, assessing the situation. The guards would be upon him any moment now, but instead of fear, he felt an unfamiliar sense of calmness and warmth begin to settle in him. The sensation of saving a life was entirely new to him, and it felt much better than taking one. Wazed had witnessed the light go out of someone's eyes countless times, but he had never seen the face of someone he'd saved, and the thought of it filled him with a strange excitement.
He turned to Selena, who was still frozen on the bed, her eyes fixed on the severed head of Dolores. The poor girl was in shock.
Taking a few steps towards her, Wazed extended his hand towards Selena. "Come on," he urged gently. But she remained unresponsive.
With a sympathetic sigh, he reached out and lightly nudged Selena's shoulder. Finally, her eyes flickered and met his.
"You're okay now. No one will hurt you," Wazed said with a smile, perhaps the first genuine smile in years.
A moment of silence passed, and then Selena screamed. She swatted Wazed’s hand away and crawled backward.
"No… no… go away… go away!" she shouted, her lips quivering.
Wazed was confused. He had just saved her, yet why was she telling him to go away?
“Selena, it’s okay. It’s me, Kier. The Duchess is dead. You’re safe now. Look, here’s the pendant you gave me. You have the other half,” he said in an attempt to calm her down, but it only seemed to make things worse.
She crawled back further, yanked the pendant from her neck, and hurled it at Wazed.
The pendant hit him on the head, before it fell and clattered against the ground. Wazed was left speechless, his eyes darting back and forth between Selena and the fallen pendant. A well of anger rose up in Wazed. Saving a life was not any better than taking one. He tightened his grip on his knife.
Why did I save her? Wazed asked himself. In hindsight, he appeared to have been the true fool all along.
"Assassin!" shouted a young guard, his voice trembling, under the lintel of the doorway, his face contorted with fear and disbelief. "The Duchess...she's dead!"
He bit into his lip, drawing blood. Had he screwed up? No, he could still succeed. It would be difficult, but he could handle Bartrem and the newborn from Earth on his own. He closed his eyes, checking the time that he had left.
[Skill(s) active: Necrofusion]
{Time Remaining: 00:59:59}