Black Days

[Silence Sei]

((Closed))

Crickets chirped outside of Radasanth's walls, the moon shone an eerie light on the misty grass below. Though it was still winter, there was a strange warmth to the air that embraced the lone figure in the dark. Such an atmosphere used to be his element, a perfect place to hide while the criminals were taken from the shadows. Now, standing here as leader of the Ixian Knights, Sei Orlouge contemplated whether or not he'd be able to aptly use such scenery to his advantage ever again. There was a sense of bittersweet irony that the vigilante who wished to remain anonymous forever was now one of Corone's biggest celebrities.

The Mystic stared at the nearby landmarks. To his back was the forest of Concordia, inviting any daring enough to venture its blackness at this late hour. To his east, he could still faintly smell the well traveled roads of Radasanth, though he had strayed from the safe guarded path a good three miles. It was far enough away that any night owls would think they were hallucinating the bodies in the distance. To the north and some miles down the way, the walls of Radasanth casted their darker shades over the land, smokes from fireplaces rising to the sky as the people snuggled in for a good nights rest. Peaceful nights like these were few and far between now in Corone, what with the civil war raging as it was.

The civil war was the whole reason Sei was here now. Somehow, during the constant in-fighting between the Corone Rangers and the Corone Empire, most soldiers had forgotten exactly what they were fighting for. So many innocent people had already lost their lives up until this point, and Sei could bear the thought of this no more. The populace deserved to have more quiet nights like this, they deserved better than the constant strife they were faced with. He wanted people to be able to stray from the main road and only fear the creatures of the night, instead of raiding parties they just happened upon.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and that was why Sei had hired the Organization.

The Organization was a group that many people thought existed solely on rumor, but Sei knew the truth. In his days of old, the telepath had managed to apprehend several people with the same kind of mental trace to them. Black, empty nothingness, people who had obviously been conditioned to take on mind-readers such as the Hero of Radasanth. Upon the capture of these agents, however, Sei realized that far too many of the 'blank slates' as he called them, wound up either dead or in some position of power within the confines of their cell. For most, this would be a coincidence, but to a tactician such as Sei Orlouge, it was a strategy.

He had sent out a mental message to one of the 'blank slates' several nights ago, telling him that he would be released if he brought an offer to his handlers. The Organization was to meet with Sei here, at exactly two seventeen in the morning, and an exchange of ideas was to be had. The telepath neglected to tell his messenger that the assassin should come alone, a mark of arrogance on the behalf of the warrior. It would take a lot more than a few experienced assassins to eliminate Sei Orlouge; the same main who single handedly disarmed four assassins in the middle of the night, and half asleep. What chance did they really have of claiming his head, fully awake and expecting them?

The rock to his west was where the agent was to meet him. The stone was big enough that anybody nearby could easily recognize it placed strangely among the glass, jutting out to a point as if it were an arrow aimed at the heart of Radasanth. The mute looked down at his feet, at the long grass that danced around the bottom of his gray pants. Corone too, had been in a dance with itself, a deadly dance that had lasted far too long. Sei Orlouge was going to make sure that the music soon came to an end, so that the floor could be open to everybody in the continent once and for all.

If he had to sell a small piece of his soul to save the country, he would take that gamble.

[Margaret]

"Caine."

Both of the darkly-dressed individuals stopped in their tracks as the obsidian-locked assassin spoke quietly, her soft murmur carrying above the night breeze to reach her handler's ears. The man in question turned, night-black briefcase in one gloved hand and the other sheathed within the pockets of his flawless trousers, as he looked upon his charge with little emotion upon his leathery face; eyes hidden behind spectacles as black as the rest of his attire. He said nothing as she bespoke his name; true or not. The young murderess had little knowledge on the sinister little man whom served as both secretary and handler for her contracts, and it was something she sought to remedy. One day. But that wasn't the reason she uttered his name.

"I don't like this." She continued almost petulantly, grasping the thin, elegant cane between the diminutive digits of her right hand. In almost what could be called a nervous tic, she ran a single gloved thumb along the glossy knob at the hilt of the hidden weapon; the only betrayal of the unease flowing through her abyssal veins. Her single, mercury eye narrowed upon the bowler hat-wearing man in front of her. "Not one bit. What does the 'Savior of Radasanth' want with us?"

"That, my dear, is what we are hear to find out." A simple reply, and truthful, on the sly man's part. The creases of his lips pulled into his casual, chilling sharkish grin; a sight the assassin had long since become accustomed to since her assignment three years beforehand. It was still unnerving to witness, but no longer did she feel the apprehension that she'd first experienced on their introductions. "Now come. It is bad business to keep a client waiting; especially one as renowned as our dear Sei Orlouge."

Margaret bit back a scathing response as she instinctively scanned the darkness with her single eye, the other, more deadly one still hidden behind the black cloth serving as an eyepatch. Had it not been on a direct order from the Organization's part, she'd have no business standing out here in the middle of nowhere, dirtying her gown and feet on some countryside back road. Just being out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the Corone capital, made her skin shiver with further unease. She much preferred the sounds and sights of the city, where she could slip unnoticed into the dark between buildings, alleys and crowds; the predator amongst beautifully ignorant prey.

But here...here it felt like even with all the stars above and empty landscape about them, there was a million invisible eyes upon her. She hated it. With each step forward they took, it felt more and more like an obvious trap.

Ah, but her handler would have none of that. He simply smiled to himself at his charge's obvious discomfort and turned back to the rough terrain ahead of them, adjusting his bowler hat upon his hairless head almost as second nature. "Now remember; he is a psionic. Do you recall the mantra?"

A scowl on her part. "Be as the void, for it is thee, and thou art we. Yes, yes. I am no longer a child, Caine. I suggest you cease treating me as such." Still, a nervous glance to her sides. Caine resisted a dry chuckle at the sight and continued walking forth, silence at his back save the faint stir of cloth as the evening wind tickled at the edges of her gown.

It wasn't long before they came across the landmark that was to be the neutral grounds for this meeting. Margaret had long since cleared her visage of any outward nervousness; her youthful face had assumed that of quiet, cruel dispassion as she marched in obedient silence next to the slow, yet steady strides of the taller (but only slightly) man at her side. As they came to the protruding mass of stone and moss that predatorial grin shone upon his wrinkled skin once more and he bowed at the hip, towards a strange-looking man off a ways whom had a shock of bright, orange hair. Margaret could only assume that this was Sei Orlouge, and carefully kept her mind a void despite the other's laughable appearance. Was this really the hero of Radasanth?

"I take it we are to be joined by another?" Caine spoke suddenly, his baritone carrying over the wind with serpentine ease.

[Leopold]

The million invisible eyes were more real than Margaret might have liked. From high atop the crooked clock tower that leered over the meeting, a raven cocked its head with an animalistic curiosity. The pupils of its ethereal orbs settled keenly on a large, ancient, and notable rock at the heart of the grassland that formed in the sudden absence of the cityscape. It ruffled its feathers with a furious attack from its onyx beak, and then resumed its vigil.

Down in the streets below, hidden from the keen gaze of his potential ally, Leopold Winchester waited. He appeared as a grandiose priest of a dark, old, and long forgotten religion. His axe head mask covered his wizened features, and long tendrils of black and red cloth floated like tentacles behind him. He leant forwards on the fetish staff that was as old as the stars, and waited, patiently, and without haste. His blood, half formed in his spiritual tomb boiled silently. His heart, pumping for the sake of convention, pumped loudly. His eyes, closed beneath his ceremonial helm, channelled energy up into the sky where the Umbrae Raven was perched.

He had watched the strange, yet enigmatic Sei Orlougne for quite some time. As he advanced through Radasanth’s streets, the raven had hopped, skittered, and glided from rooftop to branch, from vestige to cloister, never letting up its pursuit. Leopold’s observance of the entire business meeting was impeccable, as befitting of a man that took so much pride in his connections, prestige, and his acumen. When the second figure entered the picture, a twisted, half coloured image of telekinetic origin, Leopold stabbed his staff into the ground.

High atop the clock tower, the raven cawed. With a beat of its shadowy wings it rose in an arc, and then descended towards the rock. The very second its claws scrabbled against the sandy surface it exploded. Ribbons of red light spiralled out from the centre of the eruption and floated upwards; they were clear signs of the Old God’s providence, at least, to those few learned scholars that gave chase to the shadows of Berevar’s myths.

Stepping out from his seclusion, Leopold Winchester, now a true man, coughed. He was standing to the left of the one-eyed assassin and her companion, and to the right of the red-headed hero of the mainland. He made no sudden movement to close the gap of some two hundred feet or so, but remained half hidden in the twilight of the grasslands to give him ample opportunity to mount either a defence, or a retreat; whichever was most appropriate, given the company he was keeping.

“Good evening, m’lady,” he bowed at Margaret, and followed it up with a curt nod to her companion. He had no idea who the man was, but out of courtesy, he observed his presence with dignity and tact. He folded his hands across his ample frontage, and played with the lowest of the golden buttons that kept his ornate and well stitched waistcoat closed.

He had met Sei Orlougne only the once, and it had been a difficult affair. During the furtive years of the civil war, he had called on the Winchester Rose, and indeed, on the Winchester family in a time of need. They had helped the rallying of refugees to Sei’s eternally virile cause; Leopold had been dead set against the idea, but his wife’s loyalty to Duffy and to the Ixian Knights had been unwavering. On the outskirts of the city, and on the start of a long, dangerous, and dark road to nowhere, no such loyalties kept him civil.

“Sei…” he said softly, throwing the mute an equally tactful nod. He settled his attentions back to Margaret. “I am the ‘other’, though I apologise for my lateness. There was difficulty crossing the ocean between Scara Brae and Jadet. The Pirates of Am’aleh seas can be…” he smacked his moustached lips, “quite persistent.” He jostled his shoulders, a fake laugh to lighten the mood, and then produced a hand gesture that indicated his desire to approach.

“Please, ladies, gentlemen, let us not be so tense. We have come to discuss a dark time, a rich opportunity, and the possibility of an alliance between our…” he paused to wet his lips once more, wishing languidly that he had brought a bottle of bourbon, or at the very least, his butler, “organisations.” With heavy boots prancing and well-to-do suit rustling, Leopold approached the rock and waited.

[Silence Sei]

Sei watched as two members, presumably from the Organization, approached him. They paused several feet away from the Mystic, and turned to notice something coming towards the group. Sei crossed his arms, his eyes trying to make out what the others had seen in the darkness, to no avail. It wasn't until the form was closer to them that Sei could easily recognize the frame of Leopold Winchester, husband to one of Sei's oldest Ixian Knights recruits, Ruby Winchester.

The interactions between Sei and Leopold had always been few and far between. In fact, the longest the two had even been around each other was when the Ixian Knights were aiding some Raiaera refugees on behalf of the Corone Empire. That was back when Sei had thought the Empire was in the right, back when he thought there was a side to this civil war that could easily defeat the other one. What a fool he had been for such assumptions.

Leopold spoke of opportunity, and an alliance between organizations. This caused the telepath to raise an eyebrow, for as far as he knew, Ruby's presence in the ranks of the Knights was an alliance between the Ixian Knights and the Winchester trading company. That could only have meant that Leopold was not here for the orange haired youth, but instead for his contact. A slight feeling of frustration welled up inside the psychic. He had gone through all of this trouble to make this meeting private, and now a well-to-do noble from Scara Brae was attempting to come in and usurp him from his negotiations. Leopold Winchester was quickly making the top of Sei's list of insufferable people.

His eyes turned back towards the other two, a quick scan of the minds to attempt to find any mental signs one way or another. The Mystic grinned upon finding that both the man, and the woman in his company, were both thinking of a black void, emptiness. They were skilled at being 'blank slates'. Sei reached towards his side, a hand patting a small bag at his hip. He had made sure to bring some extra money just in case the price they would ask for their services was a bit higher than what the mute expected.

"I will make this short, and simple," Sei spoke into the minds of all three participants, not really caring whether or not Leopold heard his offer. "I will be planning some strategical attacks soon, and I require someone who can get in, make a quick strike, and get out without any trail that leads back to me. The targets will be high priority, and if you can't assassinate all three of them, then you will not get the full amount I offer. You will receive five-hundred GP for each kill, making a total of 1500 GP once the job is done. Furthermore, I offer you three-hundred GP from the start to buy supplies, and whatever else you may need. If you perform the job admirably, I will also offer the two of you spots within the Ixian Knights. Milady, Milord, a war is brewing, and I need competent soldiers." Sei shifted his eyes, his blue orbs starting to focus in on the darkness now. A small, brown lizard crawled onto some of the green moss covering the tip of the landmark rock, leaping here and there to grab some nearby moths. How ironic that this was to be the kind of surprise attack Sei was expecting his hired swords to use.

"I am more than willing to hear of Master Leopold's offer, and counter it, should the need arise. If not, are my terms adequate?"

[Margaret]

It felt odd. Having a voice that wasn't her own in her head, that was. Margaret disliked it. It felt like an intrusion upon her privacy, even though she knew full well that her thoughts were protected by the barricade of emptiness dwelling now within her brain. She said nothing in return to the telepath's offer, nor bothered to acknowledge the company that greeted her so...courteously. Feh. She would have slain him on the spot, had it not been for the fact that her handler seemed to know of him beforehand. The old geezer knew not how lucky he truly was at the moment. She was on edge and more than willing to sever some heads, should that relieve her lustful unease. As it was, she kept her single, steel-tinted eye shut; letting her ears pick up the soft footsteps of those around her and perceiving the cold air about her for any other intrusions. That was, after all, why she was here...wasn't it?

Caine on the other hand seemed more than willing to engage in conversation, the sly little man. He fell right into pace as yet both this Sei Orlouge made his offer and the other, older stranger made his presence known, placing his briefcase upon the ground and gesturing out to both men with that same, sharkish grin plastered upon his visage and tinted shades reflecting what little light shone from the heavy moon above. "Gentleman, gentlemen. I do appreciate how eager you are to commence with the pleasantries of business, but I do believe that such negotiations should take place somewhere warmer, hmm? Come, come."

Margaret nearly raised an eyebrow as her handler unlatched both sides of the briefcase he always carried with him, taking a moment to look upon the act under the lid of her eye. That was odd. He always unlatched it from the front. Of course, as she'd referenced before, she knew next to nothing about the smartly-adorned man. In a business where murder was currency, knowledge was more valuable than coin or power. She did not think Caine a fool; why would he be so eager to show, then, his secrets? It was something to think on, at the very least.

But not now. The stout, bowler-hat bearing man reached into his briefcase for a moment, rustling within before he reached down even further...which, wouldn't be odd, if it weren't for the fact that his entire arm had now vanished into the confines of the item. He tilted his head this way and that, and under less tense circumstances it could have been humorous. Then, with a soft sound of exclamation he pulled out what looked to be a cube of sorts - again, something that wouldn't have normally been odd, save for the fact that the object in question was glowing white. Immediately, Margaret felt uneasy at its unveiling. This was obviously an artifact of power of some sort, from the way it literally radiated magic. Subconsciously she let her senses dart here and there, feeling out the air to see if the item's unveiling had gone noticed by any of the locales. She didn't feel anything besides her usual paranoia. It still didn't make her feel any better.

Without a word and still smiling from ear-to-ear, her handler tossed the nameless artifact upon the ground a few feet away from where they stood. It landed upon the dirt-ridden earth with a heavy thumb, a few rolls, before tumbling to a stop. Then, a snap of his glove-laden fingers, and suddenly, where there once had been a little cube there was a shack; as natural-looking and cozy as any you would find in a child's fairy tale book or out in the middle of the woods.

Not that Margaret would know. She'd been raised on tales of blood, not happiness.

Stoically they watched as, from within the tinted windows of the small cottage, a light grew; an evident warmth, as the chimney atop the tiled roof began to emit thin trails of smoke. It was the picture-perfect definition of 'home'. Caine let the moment set in for a few seconds before he clapped his hands together and rubbed them in a maniacal, gleeful manner; an act as well done as any tried-and-true villain. The murderess merely gave him a single, thinly raised eyebrow as he turned to her and gestured, hand extending out to the wooden doorway. "Ladies first, m'dear."

He was dangerous. That was for sure. She said nothing, merely walked forth and became the first to enter the little log cabin, as the warmth and heat of the flame at the back of it embraced her.

[Leopold]

There were only a handful of things in the world that truly horrified an Old God. The first was slavery, the removal of free will from the mortal creatures of the world. Leopold had dedicated much of his mortal life to the ending of slavery, in Salvar, Berevar, and wherever else it reared its ugly head. Across the frozen tundra of the steppes where his people once ruled, he had driven his focus to ending the horrifying capture of the native tribes and their exploitation.

War was the second, and it was the precise reason he was here now. He would not profit from the suffering of the innocents, who, inevitably, became a part of conflict’s violent tapestry. He would, however, use it to free them from darker times. His hand here was not to guide the Ixian Knights to or from their path – Duffy and Ruby had both been implicit in disallowing the merchant that right. The orange haired man was to be left to his own devices, and to the fates that befell him, or favoured him.

Scara Brae, however, would gain something from this disaster.

Whilst war was waged on Corone’s ancient soil, a war of a different sort would break out in the court of Queen Valeena; political intrigue, murder, and a coup. Scara Brae would break the chains that bound it to the Empire, and it would be with the Winchester Rose’s aid that it gained the most precious gift of all; freedom.

“What a tremendous idea,” Leopold clucked.

The cottage before his glowing eyes was a welcoming sight indeed, one set starkly against the tension and cold of the countryside park. He had listened to the mute’s offer, and to his early attempts to snipe his own counter, and remained silent throughout. In a debate, or indeed, in a business meeting, it was always best to reveal your hand at the right moment. To do so as soon as Sei had was to incite rebellion. He took a step forwards towards the door, and stopped before Sei. He did not wish to overstep the difficult layers of hierarchy that was afoot amongst the group.

“After you, Lord Orlougne,” he bowed his head slightly, and gestured to the door with his cane. “Ladies first,” he nodded to Margaret, “and then nobility.” After that, Leopold chuckled; game the gentry, and then the servants, the peons, and then the rabble he loved to call his own. “I do not wish to claim to be able to best the good gentlemen’s offer, however,” he wrinkled his lips into an expression of thought. Clearly, he was torn between aggression and compromise. “However, perhaps you could offer your services to both parties, though I was late to the table, so to speak, I believe your organization has something to offer us both.”

He advanced slowly, not wanting to barge into the cottage like a bull in a china shop, and certainly not wishing to lose his place in the stakes. His aim here was to acquire the clandestine activities of the Organization, keep up appearances between the Winchester Rose and the Ixian Knights, and come out on top whilst all those around him burnt in their ow narcissistic flames.

“Though I guess introductions are in order.” He turned to the gentlemen in the bowler hat. “My name is Leopold Winchester, a quasi-ally of Sei’s, but here to represent the Winchester Rose Trading Company, and in a wider role, to represent the Guild of Merchants of Scara Brae.” He paused, for dramatic effect, “I am here to represent the Right Honourable Lord Van Degalion himself.” It was a name that meant many things, but to those in the darker circles of the world, it was the name of the Master of the Scara Scourge.

Leopold’s eyes glowed, his moustache shimmered, and his lapels seemingly flapped with pride.

The Van Degalion was more simply referred to as ‘The Master’.

[Silence Sei]

Sei crossed his arms as he took in the surroundings. The power of this man was amazing, on par with Leopold’s own linguistic skills. While the gentleman seemed to make his intentions known that Sei would still have his assassin for the coming war, the mute got an uneasy feeling in Mr. Winchester’s words. There was something off about the nobleman, an air about him that just rubbed the Mystic in the wrong way. Sei pondered on this feeling for a moment.

Was he jealous of Leopold Winchester?

Sei shook the thought from his head and approached a fireplace, leaning next to it as Leopold pleaded his case to the members of the Organization. He let the man prattle on, dropping names Sei had heard only rumors of, but never had substantial evidence of ‘The Master’s existence. He looked up to the wooden rafters that supported their magical cottage, wondering what tier of wood was used to keep a building crafted by wizardry steady. Of course, that was even –if- the quartet had traveled into a magical land, and not just simply teleported to a more remote location.

When Leopold finally finished, Sei pushed himself off of the wooden wall, looking to the three other people in the room at his own leisure. “As I said, I wish to hire your services, and provided that you perform admirably in my coming assault, I offer the both of you sanctuary and asylum from those that would hunt you, as well as a probationary membership into the Ixian Knights.”

Sei’s words were carried with truth. Though the Mystic had no doubt that there were secrets between the four of them that would probably never be revealed, the mute could overlook previous transgressions if the clandestine group would just participate in his war effort. “Whatever you do after that point is up to the two of you, but know that I will bear no ill will. Take care of your targets with as little innocent bloodshed as possible, and you will be rewarded handsomely.”

To sweeten the deal, Sei took a bag of GP, tossing it at Margaret’s feet. “Take it to the bazaar, I have contacts that will get you a discount on whatever you need to get the job done. Just tell them I sent you.” Sei shot a brief glare as his prospective rival. Let’s see you top –that- Winchester.

It was then that Sei realized he was, indeed, jealous.