The sound of steps on laid rock fills the crevice of architecture in the lower city of Lemsich. Merchant trades never halt, for sunlight never reaches the depths of the Lower City past the umbra of the towering stone walls. The alleys are lit an algae hue from the glowing bug-lanterns. Among the clacking of wooden pattens on the dirty cobble path is a mysterious hooded figure in oversized unspectacular attire. The clothes are torn and dusty, in contrast to her hidden clean pale face. The merchants howl their goods to the passerbys. Her eyes scan the shops with driven focus. She passes a merchant selling refurbished cutlery, no doubt stolen from the Heights; another one trader selling prosthetics made of carved wood. Her glances at the trading goods are not a second long as she moves on to scour the opposite side of the street. Her hood shifts and begins to droop over the top half of her face, blinding her sight. She frustratedly removes her hood revealing her young face with sharply defined features. She picks up her speed as she treks past the never ending crowds until she’s bluntly stopped by a short old merchant’s stretched out wooden arm. Without hesitation and in an instant the woman points a small blade at the throat of the old man.
“I mean no harm dear, I only mean to alert you of your shadows.” The old man says, nodding behind her. She turns and scans through the crowd attentively. No one sticks out to her among the large crowd. “Those men with their faces painted black over their mouths. Bad men those are. Bad men under Kino’s payroll no doubt. Bad men that aren’t fond of leaving their prey with a breath after they’re through with ‘em. Especially one such as yourself.” The old man doesn’t look to her eyes but instead surveys the crowd with a squint. She scans the crowd once more and counts three black-mouthed men. They are geared in simple dried leather attire. One with a protruding belly raging to be gutted; the other two scrawny and frail, one short and one tall.
The three of them together couldn’t take down a single unarmed Lemsich Highguardian. She thinks to herself with a sneer.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m capable of handling myself.” The woman smiles before taking her blade away from his throat and moving his arm out of her path.
“You really should be careful my dear!” The old man pleads to her and forcefully grabs her wrist. “Come into my inn and I can find you a room to hide in for the night. Kino’s thugs don’t often linger for very long.” The man desperately says to her. The woman’s smile disappears and a face without emotion washes over. Her eyes are sharp and stab into the old man’s soul. She quickly disarms his hand off her wrist and grips his own tightly.
“I am not a fool to your tricks old man.” The woman scolds, her voice raised louder.
“You- what scheme are you accusing me of? I assure you I’m only trying to save you.” The old man replies with shock. Her hand grips tighter.
“You find a woman that looks lost, or maybe they’re just young and naive. Then you trick them into being afraid, and use that fear to corner them behind closed doors. It’s ingeniously revolting, I’m sure those three goons are your sons? They do have their father’s snout nose.” The woman presses and continues closer to the old man.
“These accusations are absurd, you’ve lost your wits!” The old man says with fear building in his voice. She continues domineering him backwards.
“Don’t get me wrong, I admire the work you’re doing. You’re doing the Mother’s work and you don’t even know it. But you’ve mistaken me as another easy victim.” The old man crashes into the wall and falls to the ground. The woman retrieves the blade from her cloak once again.
“What if you’re wrong? What if you’re persecuting an innocent old man? Would you kill an innocent old man over your flawed intuition alone?” The old man asks, his mouth agape in fear.
“Would not matter, your death satisfies my agenda nonetheless. Your death will be meaningless, just as your entire life has been. You will meet your conclusion solely because of one mistake.” She says crouching down to match his height on the ground. “At your age you would never have seen the prophecy unfold. I feel sorry for you in that regard.” She quickly pierces the blade in and out of his neck. His eyes widen as he attempts to smother the gushing of blood. The woman wipes the blood of the blade onto the man’s tunic before standing up. A gathering of people has made its way surrounding the altercation at this point.
“A rapist.” She tells the mob. With blank stares the crowd dissipates, in which the woman disappears into. She continues back onto her path before catching sight of a silent bald merchant. The merchant has a uniquely X-shaped scar on his forehead. In contrast to the vendors around him, he is not actively hollering out his trades. The lady approaches the stall and leans over, picking up an irregularly shaped dagger. The gritty silver is stained a dark red at the tip. Grooves along the blade stagger like a key to an eternally bleeding door constructed of mortal flesh. She runs her finger along the edge softly.
“Avouz d’unsoin hero?” she asks in tongue as she twirls the blade in her hand. The man turns his head with sternness in response to her imprecation.
“Heros warrente et pano reenment.” he responds in a statued tone. The whites of his eyes have been drowned in red while his pupils are blind blue. Yet still his eyes meet hers.
“Until she comes.” she replies with a smirk across her face. The trader nods his head in acknowledgement and steps back, allowing passage to the dark alley behind him. She nods and advances past him while covering her head with the hood once more. Immediately the bald merchant resumes his position blocking the alley’s entrance. The way is dark and yet light follows her as she walks into the black. Her steps grow to echo increasingly louder as she enters deeper into the alley. Minutes of endless walking passes, until a door appears from the dense grasp of darkness. She approaches with haste, the door almost alive as the knob beats a metallic clang. She turns around to take note of the distance she’s traveled only to find the bald trader still plainly in view, mere steps away. The woman continues nonetheless and lines the bladed key up to the knob and inserts it. The keyhole begins to drip blood from the key’s insertion. More and more it drips as the key is pushed deeper into the lock until- a soft click from the door and it drifts open, the blade locked in place. As she enters she is ambushed by a dark energy. She struggles to keep her balance as the forces drive her back like a strong tempest wind. She continues nonetheless, determined to not succumb to the powers at be. In one quick moment she falls to her knees as the forces disappear. She takes a moment to recover her breath before standing up and entering into the dark hallway.
”I hate that part.” She mutters under her breath. The walls are solid stone but the floors are soft with an expertly sewn red and black rug that carpets the entirety of the hall. Small candles are lit a purple flame in tall braziers along the top of each wall, battling the surrounding darkness. A smell of soaked wood emanates from the corridor. Along the walls are an alignment of hundreds of doors- all sharing no difference from the other, as if they all lead to the same different room. She walks up to the closest door without hesitation and raises her fist to the door. She knocks a rhythmic three knocks. The door opens ajar, and slowly she enters the room. Through the door a fair red-haired middle-aged woman sits upon a soft royal red chair reading a parchment of paper, with golden wax sigils marking the corners. She has wisdom in her face along with beauty. Another similar chair is positioned across from her. The room has a lavish interior with bright red and gold patterns spanning the walls with dark wood lining. Behind the seated woman is a bookshelf full of leather-bound books. The woman looks up and her eyes pierce the hooded lady before her gaze returns to the yellowed page in front of her. The intruding lady pulls her hood off, once more revealing soft brown hair and eyes.
“I am Glisteria Candes. I welcome you to Lemsich.” She says without eye contact, her body stiff. The red-haired woman gives nothing in return, not even the raising of her head. She sits reading her paper, ignoring Glisteria’s entrance. Sweat drips from Glisteria’s brow, the room is hot despite the Winter season. She takes a gulp and wipes her face before once again making an attempt to establish dialogue. “Is that one of the prophetic texts?” Glisteria asks. The woman raises her head and promptly rolls up the page. Her eyes never leave Glisteria’s gaze.
“Sit.” She orders gently. Glisteria obeys and sits in the empty chair, her hands nervously falling into her lap. “What do you know of the prophetic texts?” The woman asks, probing Glisteria.
“Only what I’ve been told, madam. I know they date back to the Dronin Era when Xanderites were still residing in Neptune. They’re quite a relic.”
“The texts were discovered by the Ancient Dronin Empire, yes, but the true origin isn’t known to us mortals. However, that is not of relevance; that was not my meaning. I care not about your knowledge of its origin, I ask what do you know of the contents within the texts. Can you recite the prophecy’s objective?” The woman inquires.
“The texts foretell the rising of Mother Oracia.” Glisteria answers nervously.
“Elaborate. I do not have time to sit here and instruct your every response.” The woman degrades her given response.
“Apologies Sister…?” Glisteria waits for an introduction but fails to receive one. “It has been awhile since the last meeting, these questions caught me off guard.” Glisteria admits before looking back down at her feet. The woman ponders in thought for a while before easing her shoulders slightly and finally introducing herself.
“I must apologize too. I haven’t had time to rest in some time, perhaps my manners have gone astray in my tiredness. I am Sister Thanavius of The Finger. Do you understand why I’ve arranged this meeting today?” Thanavius asks.
“You are evaluating my loyalty to Mother Oracia.” Glisteria replies.
“It is true I often proctor tests of loyalty, but I care not about your feelings for Mother Oracia; the prophecy is what is at stake.” Thanavius says with a pause and a squint of her eyes. “And that is not the sole reason of my being here.” Thanavius explains. “I have come by orders of The Sister Prophets.”
“Orders from The Sister Prophets themselves? What purpose do they have for Lemsich?” Glisteria asks with a flinch of her body, suppressing the excitement in her voice at the idea of her words being true.
“You must answer my questions before I take concern for yours. Tell me your duties as a Thrilsdar, and tell me- do you feel your duty has been completed?” Thanavius asks, sitting up and facing her body towards Glisteria.
“My orders were to sabotage Lemsich’s politics into a hopeless city of greed and poverty. I believe my duty has been completed, the lower city is in complete disarray. Kino Alesworth profits off the great poverty, and is uncontested in the senate.” Glisteria proudly answers. “If the Sister Prophets sent you here… is the prophecy reaching The Conclusion?” Glisteria asks but to no avail as Thanavius ignores her with more interrogation.
“Sources tell me Kino Alesworth has a falsified record, and his real past is unknown. Yet you trust his intentions to hold up our chances of fulfilling the prophecy. Within your orders you were to not jeopardize the prophecy by leaving its enactment in outside hands. I hope your stake in the prophecy hasn’t become second to your lust for luxury within the glory of the Heights.” Thanavius accuses with disapproval.
“His past isn’t of consequence, Kino is one of many that have struck a deal with the city senate for complete control of the lower city. He won’t be the last. The senate has no interest in managing the refugees.” Glisteria answers with confidence. “If someone were to oppose his rule they’d surely regret it. I have a masterful assassin working directly for me.” Thanavius grows silent with curious eyes.
“This assassin you have under your hire, is he a worthy warrior?” Thanavius asks.
“He’s yet to let me down, he was once a Sonai warrior. I have him strung around my finger.” Glisteria brags with a smile and a twirl of her finger.
“A warrior of Sonai? That is rare indeed, they are said to harness abilities that can silence arcane.” Thanavius inquires more. “Would you be kind enough to lend him for a mission outside of Lemsich? I have some cloaks from The Sanctum that need to be dealt with.”
“I suppose that’d be possible. It’d leave me a little lacking in resources but-“ Glisteria gets interrupted.
”But you’ll get by just fine on your own. In truth I was initially going to assign this task to you, but this assassin of yours intrigues me.” Thanavius admits. “All of the details are written on this scroll, I’ll let you arrange the rest with your man. Good luck sister, may hope die.” She stands up and hands Glisteria the page she’d been holding.
”Until she comes.” Glisteria says, still a bit in shock at the swiftness her assassin was stolen from her. She accepts the page and nods as Thanavius leaves the room in a rush. She looks down at the paper given to her and glances at the target’s name: ‘Erebus Midan’.
