The One Behind the Curtain

As soon as the odd girl exited the room, a sign of movement on the ceiling could barely be seen. There, if one used their eyes and crossed them together for about five minute one would notice a strange shadow.

The shadow wobbled as it opened the office window slightly and slipped out. It glanced scornfully at the fat man who was still inside trying to make sense of what happened.

The shadow moved up the roof, and only after making sure no one was around did it dare to breathe. "'Shadowbound' off."

The shadows covering the figure melted, revealing a black-eyed young man with short dark hair. He had a slight stubble on his chin and a sloping jaw. His clothes were a drab shade of grey over grey.

"Haah. That was scary," The voice was masculine, with a trace of youthful confidence. "Who was that girl? She looked at my direction as if she knew that I was there," he shook his head. "No. Couldn't be. I've raised my 'Stealth' to Level 8 and my 'Camouflage' to Level 6. Only Master could have detected me."

The shadowy man decided to put it out of his mind and jumped down to the alleyway and blended into the crowd of people below.

In a dark room in a mansion in the Noble's district there was a brief and abrupt scream followed by the gurgle of a drowning man. It was the same man that earlier in the day had been crippled by a noble girl.

In a different room, a hunched figure sat on a luxurious sofa, calmly pondering his next move on a chessboard placed on a table before him. On his left was a small table with a glass of amber coloured liquid.

He sniffed the liquid, enjoying the burning sensation it gave his nose and the piquant, spicy aroma that filled his nostril.

The man had been doing this for quite a while now and had not moved the chess piece even once, for the enemy before him was not in front of him, but on the other side of the continent. It was a game that lasted for months as one move required the other side to send a letter to the other via mail, which takes at least two weeks to arrive. A luxurious game for the rich.

"Gregory." he said suddenly.

"Master," the shadow suddenly moved to reveal the man with the stubble, who knelt down beside him. "Earl Stanton's cronies have been dealt with."

"Not…by you, I hear."

Gregory was not surprised that the man had known this only hours after the event. He had eyes everywhere.

"Yes. It was done by a girl named Cornelia Asterium Steelheart," he said. "I don't know much about her."

"No wonder. Although it is a Ducal…house, it has been declining…as of late. Thanks to the second wife. She…has no sense of money and spend it as if it is water," there was a strange light in his eyes as he said this. "Aah…the girl. I thought that she inherits the blood of her father…but in reality she inherits…her…blood."

"Help me up."

The man stood up from his chair slowly with the help of Gregory. He was a misshapen man who walked with a lurch. His head resembled a skull with skin and patches of white hair upon his head. His liver-spotted hands were wrinkled and gnarly. The robe covering his skinny figure was a finely made masterpiece, lined with soft fur and golden threads. On his left hand was a wooden cane with silver handle carved in the likeness of a hawk.

"You…smell of women…" the man twitched his nose. "Do not do this again…or…I will not need…your service in the near future."

The man quickly panicked and bowed deeply. "Yes, Master! My apologies."

He tapped the cane against the table two times, signifying his order for the assassin to leave promptly. Gregory let out a yelp and quickly activated 'Shadowbound', vanishing into the shadows.

The old man walked out of the room and across the hallway, passing by some servants. Some were panicked and bowed as he went past, and some calmly bowed, their eyes still as a lake.

"Alastor," the man called as he entered a room hidden at an inconspicuous corner. The room was cold and his breath ended up as a wisp of white.

A man garbed in leather apron and a mask was standing beside a dead body with his tongue cut off. nodded at him and offered a bloodied pamphlet on a silver plate. He held it between his fingers and wobbled it slightly.

"Is this…the weapon?"

Alastor grinned with an excited tone. "A normal paper brochure. there is no sign of hidden weapon inside. And yet," Alastor pried open the mage's mouth to look at the severed tongue inside. "It was a clean cut. A point to note…the severed ends had both started to rot earlier than it should. And it continued to rot, even after we placed the body in this cold room."

"Is it…some kind of poison?"

"Perhaps. But I've never heard of poison that could let regular paper cut a man's tongue clean in half," he said. "What should we do, Master?"

"We should do…nothing," the man said, his word slurred sharply. "I do not care…if she lives, or dies. The important thing is…if she can be useful."

The man called Master pointed at the body and mouthed the word 'Fellfire' silently and a giant ball of fire erupted from the body's chest. Turning it into ash in minutes.

Alastor could never stop being amazed at how his master could conjure a Level 5 Fellfire spell with only a silent whisper whilst mages of higher level than him needed to chant the complete spell.

"Let the fish swim for awhile…only then will the sharks appear."