Spoiler
Chapter 2
High Master Ramar,
I am sorry to report that we have lost the Fort of Takala to the rebels. My men fought hard to defend it, but we were outnumbered three to one. I have lost many men. Fear not, I will retrieve it. It is only a matter of time. I will send you a full report once everything has been straightened out.
Master Maroc, Assassin of the Order
Ramar crumpled up the letter with his fist, tossing it across the room angrily. The High Assassin glanced into the fireplace on the back wall, the flames dancing around in it as if to mock. His face flushed red with anger. That had been the third loss this month.. He sank down into his chair, sticking his elbow on the desk and his head in his palm. He ran his fingers through his few remaining patches of hair and closed his eyes, hoping to, for one moment, forget what was happening in the land.
A knock on the door made him jump. He quickly straightened his posture and smoothed out his wrinkled tunic.
“Enter.”
Taluc, his servant, stepped into his study, eyes downcast in the custom of servants. “Master Dracon wishes to see you,” he mumbled.
“Very well. Send him in.” The servant bowed once and exited the room. A few seconds passed and Dracon appeared in the doorway. His clothing was dusty and worn, evidence of his long journey
“Master,” Dracon said, bowing low. Ramar shook one hand, waving off the salute.
“None of that. You haven’t been my apprentice for nigh on 7 years. Leave the bowing to the servants. Now, how was your mission?”
Dracon straightened, glancing into his High Assassin’s eyes. “It was a complete success. The rebel Patinore is dead, as you instructed. “
“You used the poison?” Dracon nodded.” I’m glad to hear that. It’s the first good news I’ve had in a while. King Jairon will be pleased. “
Dracon nodded again. He glanced around the room once, whipping his hands on his back cotton pants, trying to remove the grime. After a moment, he glanced up.
“Master, what other news have you received?”
Ramar quickly relayed the letter to Dracon. As he spoke, the young man’s face went from tensed to a solemn blankness. “What of the South?”
“Oh,” Ramar said, falling once again into his chair. “I don’t know what to do anymore. The rebels are multiplying at a number that far surpasses our own,” He pressed his hand to his forehead and began rubbing away at the muscle, as if it would help prevent the migraine he knew was approaching.
“Master, no one has ever defeated the Order, and no one ever will…” he hesitated. “Please, allow me to travel south. I shall help our men defeat these criminals.”
“No. You’re my First Lieutenant. I need you here, helping me protect the King,” Ramar said sternly, leaving no room for argument.
“Very well, Master.”
“Now, go rest. You’ve done enough for today.” Dracon walked slowly out of the room, as if the mention of weariness had reminded him of the journey.
Ramar looked down at the stack parchment on his desk and sighed.
High Master Ramar,
I am sorry to report that we have lost the Fort of Takala to the rebels. My men fought hard to defend it, but we were outnumbered three to one. I have lost many men. Fear not, I will retrieve it. It is only a matter of time. I will send you a full report once everything has been straightened out.
Master Maroc, Assassin of the Order
Ramar crumpled up the letter with his fist, tossing it across the room angrily. The High Assassin glanced into the fireplace on the back wall, the flames dancing around in it as if to mock. His face flushed red with anger. That had been the third loss this month.. He sank down into his chair, sticking his elbow on the desk and his head in his palm. He ran his fingers through his few remaining patches of hair and closed his eyes, hoping to, for one moment, forget what was happening in the land.
A knock on the door made him jump. He quickly straightened his posture and smoothed out his wrinkled tunic.
“Enter.”
Taluc, his servant, stepped into his study, eyes downcast in the custom of servants. “Master Dracon wishes to see you,” he mumbled.
“Very well. Send him in.” The servant bowed once and exited the room. A few seconds passed and Dracon appeared in the doorway. His clothing was dusty and worn, evidence of his long journey
“Master,” Dracon said, bowing low. Ramar shook one hand, waving off the salute.
“None of that. You haven’t been my apprentice for nigh on 7 years. Leave the bowing to the servants. Now, how was your mission?”
Dracon straightened, glancing into his High Assassin’s eyes. “It was a complete success. The rebel Patinore is dead, as you instructed. “
“You used the poison?” Dracon nodded.” I’m glad to hear that. It’s the first good news I’ve had in a while. King Jairon will be pleased. “
Dracon nodded again. He glanced around the room once, whipping his hands on his back cotton pants, trying to remove the grime. After a moment, he glanced up.
“Master, what other news have you received?”
Ramar quickly relayed the letter to Dracon. As he spoke, the young man’s face went from tensed to a solemn blankness. “What of the South?”
“Oh,” Ramar said, falling once again into his chair. “I don’t know what to do anymore. The rebels are multiplying at a number that far surpasses our own,” He pressed his hand to his forehead and began rubbing away at the muscle, as if it would help prevent the migraine he knew was approaching.
“Master, no one has ever defeated the Order, and no one ever will…” he hesitated. “Please, allow me to travel south. I shall help our men defeat these criminals.”
“No. You’re my First Lieutenant. I need you here, helping me protect the King,” Ramar said sternly, leaving no room for argument.
“Very well, Master.”
“Now, go rest. You’ve done enough for today.” Dracon walked slowly out of the room, as if the mention of weariness had reminded him of the journey.
Ramar looked down at the stack parchment on his desk and sighed.