Chapter 1: The assassin

"People are like sheep, they will afford their faith to anything that grants them ignorant bliss."

~Tasmiya Shaik

REALM OF YGGDRASIA

CONTINENT OF EIRENGARD

ITALIA, SICILIANA

1762

Devenandé Church

Saturday

8:23 a.m

"I have somewhere else to be and you're wasting my time," The assassin growled, exasperated by the lack of compliance from the tight-lipped man.

Bloody and beaten. Eye pounded until purply swollen, and nose battered to the extent of shattered bone, yet he was fatuously obstinate on resorting to silence. Had he not been aware that he was mauled to the brink of death? What benefit was he to gain from retaining loyalty to a master that was not the least bit concerned for his well-being?

"Don't you have a family?" The assassin yanked the man's head backwards with a strong grip to his dampened hair. A result of his excessive sweating from exhaustion. He winced and gritted his teeth as his wrinkled face had gone pale due to the blood that rushed to his head. "You will be free to go if you tell me what I desire."

"Burn in hell, spawn of evil!" The man cursed and spat a thick droplet of bloody fluid on the visible lower half of the hooded assasin's face with contempt. "Bishop Carlyle will seek vengeance for me!"

The assassin pressed a leather-gloved hand to the disgusting blotch that tainted their face and wiped it off with a sigh. There was a certain degree to which the assassin would endure the ramblings of an ignorant, uncultured man who blindly pledged tribute and honour to a master with manipulative intentions.

"Your master has been slaughtering creatures of other races, a mass murder to be precise. Do you call that an act of God?" The assassin fisted the wall beside the man's head. The force of the attack resulted in a slight fissure in the hard rock.

"We have received a divine revelation from God," The man scowled and raised his head with pride. "Those creatures do not belong in this world, they should remain the animals that they are to honour the balance that God has set for us."

"Balance? What God do you worship that would order his followers to slaughter other creations of life?" The assassin's mouth twisted in disgust.

"And what of you?" The man rested his head back against the wall and let out a cynical laugh with evident amusement as he arched a brow. "Are you not a killer who takes the lives of those who are not yours to take?"

The sheer audacity of the bastard. Undoubtedly, the assassin had mercilessly claimed the lives of those who reaped destruction and nurtured malice into the world. Brutally or with mercy, it had not mattered. Their hands were doused deep into the rivers of blood. There was no justification for their actions; however they deemed themselves a form of much lesser evil than those they eliminated.

"I have killed those whom I thought were necessary to be disposed of for the world's safety, based on my own judgement and ideologies. Unlike the "true ones" doctrine that your master ingrained into his followers, justifying his actions as a revelation of God," The assassin remarked with subtle anger.

"The true ones doctrine will not be understood by feeble minded ones like you" The man bit back the urge to burst out in laughter.

"Words cannot reach you. Your ears and heart are filled with deception and falsely promised salvation," The assassin stated with pity. Unfortunately, the man had long since exhausted his usefulness, and either way, whether they released him or not, he would undoubtedly be faced with death. "If you will not tell me where your master is, then this is where I grant you the salvation you seek. I will find his location through other sources."

"You will be crushed by his divinity!" The man jerked his head forward but the assassin swiftly yanked him back by the hair.

They unsheathed the short dagger blade strapped to the side of their leg. Without a moment's hesitation or second thought, the assassin gripped the hilt of the dagger, and within a single split second the man witnessed a flash of light reflect in the silver of the blade before it slit his throat. A spray of blood splattered onto the assassin's face as the blade sliced through the man's flesh and jugular. His head listlessly drooped to his shoulder as a stream of blood trickled out of his mouth. Eyes widened in shock before he could even comprehend his fate.

"Another useless death," The assassin clicked their tongue in irritation as they roused from their kneeling position. "I doubt a lowlife bishop's assistant would even have any useful information."

The assassin zipped the high collar of their coat to conceal their face, with only a narrow opening to reveal their eyes. They sheathed the dagger and did not waste another second in the accursed church. They proceeded with their way out into the blinding light of day that greeted them.

It was rather ironic. That a city such as Sicilia would be bustling with the laughter of free folk, and foreign traders that invested in the land's prosperity, yet in the heart of the city stood the revered Devenandé Church built on ancient blood and sweat. Led by a dastardly man who brainwashed them into believing that the other races of the realm were abominations that should be eliminated.

The followers were either pitiful or simply ignorant. Either way, it did not serves as reason enough for them to mass murder the other races that contributed greatly to the harmony and flourishing nations. It was futile to contemplate the twisted ideologies that Bishop Carlyle had sewn into the fabric of people's minds.

The assassin discarded unwanted contemplations, and made use of the barren alleyways and abandoned districts to avoid unnecessary suspicion or attention. They moved like an umbra of the shadows which made them appear like a mere black wraith that became one with the supernatural plain of existence. A few wandering souls claimed it as the will of the spring breeze, others believed it to be a creature of some sorts.

The assassin emerged from the darkness of their movements in one particular alleyway that was only accessible and known to those of their creed. Situated amidst the cemeteries dedicated to the fallen invaders who wrought war on Italia in the distant past, there were none bold or concerned enough to wander around these regions, thus it made for a perfect location for their creed's organization.

"Eerie as always," The assassin gazed at the simple, cobblestoned structure that resembled a farm cottage house. Entangled with green vines that wove their way into the stone. Crows settled on the battered rooftop made from clay blocks. The air was thick with fog mixed with smoke. Another fire. There were those fools with far too much time to spare who would visit the cemeteries in the outskirts of the abandoned district to set ablaze the graves and commemorate their ancestors who once fought against the enemies that rested deep within the land.

Of course, the little dilapidated cottage was but a camouflage, an entrance of sorts to the labyrinth lair built deep into the underground stone. The assassin alertly scrutinized their surroundings before they entered the cottage. The inside consisted of a simple wooden table and chair in the middle, with surrounding empty bookshelves only good for collecting dust.

A trap door concealed by a layer of glamour magic below the table was revealed when the assassin's presence was made known to the living enchantment. The trap door opened with a creak, and the assassin crouched down beneath the table to descend the stone steps that lead into the labyrinth below.

With each step, torches secured in wall sconces lit the way with onyx bluish flames to guide the assassin through the labyrinth. Their leather boots echoed a crunch sound on the damp rock ground as they followed the specific routes lit by the torches. At the end of the third tunnel they were guided into, beamed rays of white light from within a large spherical chamber.

The rocky ground led into rough marble stoned floors that bore the creed's insignia in the middle of the chamber. Stone cylindrical pillars surrounded the outer area of the chamber, and in the darkness behind them were arch openings without doors, perhaps they were connected to the other tunnels of the labyrinth. The high ceiling of course was rock embedded with thousands of miniature jewels that radiated silver light in abundance.

At the far end of the chamber stood the circular stone dias that was occupied by a figure clad in red robes, and a hood to conceal their face. They stood with their hands clasped and back faced towards the assassin that arrived and kneeled in the middle of the chamber. They glanced over their left shoulder to regard their guest.

"Welcome home, Francesca," They greeted fondly, but somewhat stolidly.