The court assembled, as they did every other day. The plain gaze of sunlight gleamed through the large windows around the circular table. With all the members gathered, the court commenced with a note from the King: “Welcome to our court meeting. How are we all?”
Glances were exchanged between all the members, though some were of curiosity and even suspicion. The Blue Dragon faction controlled the region, so they were the most of the court. But some weren’t.
Some were part of something darker. They sought control under a new rule; the rule of the Unseen.
The King spoke some passive words, though most did not listen. Dusk was soon approaching, and most were eager to get to bed and rest after a tiring journey of travel. No whispers were exchanged, they just awaited the distant bell in the courtyard to ring so they could begin the next day of discussion.
Then, an old man spoke, his beige teeth revealing to make a subtly crazed smile. “Hello, folks. I’m an Alchemist,” he spoke in a giddy voice, as if he’d been inhaling caffeine like marijuana. “I’m here to help whoever needs it, so just give me a call.” He left a wink, which gained a few cringed expressions. The Alchemist then went back to fiddling with his thumbs, likely wondering what concoction would light up his lab this night. The court remained silent as the final rays of sunlight peeked through the windows, a merigold hue painting the faces of the court in an angelic light. Though tonight, angels would not watch over.
Boots on stone steps echoed through the castle, as two women hurried to the lower section. A key emerged, barely visible in the darkness. The oak door squealed open, and they rushed inside. Lighting the torches, the ambiance was visible in the form of a purple hue over the room. The cloaked woman lit a candle in the center and scattered papers over the table. The other woman, masked and covered in a thief’s garments, stabbed into the table and stuck a piece of paper inside, though the blade she wielded was for more than self defense. Swords were stacked separately, an old armory that hadn’t been used for too long. A banner was hung on the wall, a black rose as the hilt of a dagger. The two women began to discuss their plan in the silent veil of the night.
“What do you think, mistress?” The Assassin stared at the one along from her. She wondered why she never revealed the beauty under her cloak, not even in the secrecy of the Unseen. “I believe,” she whispered, stroking a picture on the table, “that we need to eliminate one of these bastards as soon as we can. Reclaim the court, and find a way to spread.” The Assassin, Ahna, stared at the Mastermind. “Do you not believe it to risky, murdering a member of the most established faction?” The Mastermind began to write in her logbook, given by the King before they gathered, to keep track of their duties. “I suggest you also write, you need evidence of your actions, or they’ll deal with any traitors within their midst.” Ahna opened her logbook, and wrote ‘Knight’ into her logbook.
While the flames on the wall began to hiss and from flames to embers, Ahna and her mistress discussed. Ahna took out her blade, swiping it along a whetstone she brought with her. Sparks flew as the blade was now razor-sharp, ready to taste the metallic tang of a Blue Dragon’s blood. “Go, young one. But make sure to leave no trace.” Ahna nodded, pulling her mask to her nose and creaking the door open. Her footsteps pattered as light as raindrops on the stone of the castle. She flicked her blade between her fingers, feeling the cold steel’s presence but never its deep sting. She entered the room on the right, placing the door as quiet as she could. Ahna walked over, the blade glimmering as she brought it down into the poor man’s chest. But then his eyes opened.
Ahna gasped, stumbling back and readying her knife. The man, the thing, rose as blood barely seeped from the wound in its chest. A faint teal light emerged in its hand, and it entered the creature’s mouth as the wound healed instantly. It looked at Ahna, and she saw the face of the Grim Reaper, a skeleton with sockets as hollow as its soul, and it left the room. She began to panic, sweat dripping down her forehead. She ran to her mistress, her footsteps silent but her breaths heavy. She opened the door, slammed it in a hurry, and returned to the table.
“Mistress! We have a problem!” Ahna stared at her mistress, and saw her face. It was pale, stunned. But her eyes were the most revealing of her fate. They had no light, no semblance of life. They were as hollow as her lost soul.
