The Guild (Chapter 3)

Ellie looked down at her feet and grinned.  For the first time in a long while, she was truly happy.  Her goals, which had before been just daydreams and childish wishes were now suddenly realized.  Just as she had thought, it had taken dedication and hard work, but training had all been a blur, seemingly untouched by time.  To Ellie, it seemed as if all her prayers had been answered overnight.

                "I have the info on your target,"  the contractor said as he entered the room.  Ellie nodded and began idly running a whetstone along her scimitar.

                "He's quite rich.  Made his living off of selling weapons and armor, so expect a lot of well equipped guards."

                "I'm not worried,"  Ellie chirped, "all I need is a name."

                "Clive Dupoint.  And with all due respect, you probably should be.  He's very rich."

                Ellie chuckled lightly.  "I get it.  I'm a woman so you think I'm weak.  They told me the same thing back home, but things are different now.  Now, I'm unstoppable."

                The contractor was silent for a moment.  "how badly did that hurt?"  he asked, starting at her charred bare feet.

                "More than you could imagine,"   she said, beaming, "at a certain point, the pain stops being bad, and just becomes another feeling, like the breeze on your face, or the sun on your skin.  Councilman Armand wouldn't un-strap us until he saw us smile or laugh, so there was no way to avoid it.  Your only two options were to deal with the pain or have your feet burned clean off.

                The contractor whistled.  "I could never do that.  Does it still hurt?"

                "After that night, nothing really hurts anymore.  Also, it kind of helps that nearly every nerve in both of my feet is dead,"  Ellie said giggling.

                Not sure how to respond, the contractor just stared at her black feet in awe.  Ellie stood up and sheathed her scimitar.  She began to climb out the window, but the contractor grabbed her shoulder.

                "You're going to need this,"  he said, handing Ellie a thin metal mask.  Painted tan to match her robe, it was completely smooth and devoid of any human features save for a rectangular slit for her eyes.

                "Thanks, I love it."

                "Good luck."

                The city of Selingrad was not quite like anything Ellie had seen before.  It's temperature changed unpredictably, unable to decide whether it preferred the brutal heat of the desert in the north, or the cool breeze of the ocean in the south.  As she made her way down its narrow streets, barely big enough to accommodate a carriage with two horses, Ellie understood why Selingrad was called the city of salt.  Even when the salty ocean spray didn't leave her mouth with its unique taste, the smell of salted fish was downright overpowering.  The city of sand might work too, Thought Ellie, as she examined the buildings.  The bricks, made from sand baked in the desert, had worn down enough that one could no longer tell where one brick ended and another started, giving the city the look of a massive sandcastle.

                Ignoring the sights and smells of a small market on the side of the road, Ellie focused on her mission.  Her first task was to find her target.  Scanning the crowd around the market, Ellie found a man who looked like he was a native to the city.

                "Excuse me sir, do you know where I can find Clive Dupoint?"

                "Ellie?"

                "Jason?  What are you doing here?  And what's with the hat?"

                Jason removed his sailor's cap and smiled proudly.  "I'm here because my target's here.  The hat is just for blending in with the locals.  It looks like it worked if you didn't recognize me at first."

                Ellie suddenly had a terrifying thought.

                "Oh no, who's your target?"  She asked worriedly.

                "Revis the shipbuilder.  You?"

                Ellie relaxed and started to breathe again.

                "Oh thank God.  I thought for a second there that we might be assigned to the same target,"  she said.  "Now I don't have to kill you."

                Jason laughed nervously, aware that she was only half joking.

                "Anyways, have you seen any of the other assassins yet?"  he asked casually.

                Ellie bit her lip.  "I'm thinking there's only one assassin you want to know about..."

                "You know about that?"  Jason asked, his body suddenly still.

                Ellie scoffed.  "Everyone knows about that.  Including councilman Armand.  He doesn't have proof, but he's definitely suspicious."

                "To hell with councilman Armand."

                "You won't be saying that when the council kicks you out of the guild."

                Jason regained his confidant demeanor and put his hat back on slyly.  "They can't really do that.  I'm worth too much to them anyway, so even if they could do that, they're not going to."

                "Whatever,"  Ellie said.  "do what you want, but if you get in trouble I'm not bailing your sorry ass out."

                "Good luck finding your target,"  Jason said as he walked away.

                "You too."

                Ellie got the information she needed from a rug merchant, bribing him with two bronze pieces.  The locals are surprisingly helpful here, Ellie thought, as she found the building the man had described.  Greedy, but helpful.  As she studied the two guards out front, it became clear that the merchant had not lied to her.  Although they proudly sported beautiful clothing made from rare materials, the men guarding the entrance were clearly not rich.  Juxtaposed against their lavish possessions, their faces were groomed with the carelessness and brusqueness of common ruffians.  These were corsairs.

                An excellent choice as mercenaries go, thought Ellie.  They're no match for me though.  As she donned her new mask, the assassin studied the cutlasses hanging from the men's belts, comparing them shrewdly to her own.  In her mind, she had already won.

                "Stop.  No one can enter here."

                "Get out of my way, pirate."

                The man looked at his companion for a moment, before both of them began to laugh loudly.

                "It's a girl in a spooky mask!  I'm quivering in my boots,"  he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

                "You should be,"  she said quietly.

                Blood began to gush from both the back and front of the man's head, shortly after Ellie's kick connected, slamming it into the wall.  As the man on the right began to draw his weapon, she skewered him against the wall with her scimitar and kicked in the unlocked wooden door.

                Most people would have felt uneasy seeing the number of corsairs Ellie found lying about in the next room, but as the distinct voice of councilman Armand filled her head, Ellie felt right at home.

                You will feel no fear.  the scimitar dived deep into the neck of an advancing corsair.  The girl and the sword moved as one, each acting as if a separate entity sharing the same mind.  You will feel no pain.  Ellie felt an immense power coursing through her veins as she landed a brutal downward elbow to an attacker's jaw.  She didn't even have to think to block a cutlass swipe from behind, it was simply the only natural motion.  The clang as the blades collided and scraped along each other furiously was music to her ears.  You will feel nothing but the will to win.  The will to conquer.  The man fell backwards, his head reeling from the force of the kick to his solar plexus.  As Ellie began to be surrounded, she overturned a table that had previously been used for a card game.  With the table momentarily separating her from the two in front, she swiveled, and used the momentum from her spin to swing her sword above her head and bring it down heavily into the shoulder of a corsair behind her.  Right now, you are a child to me.  You are weak and pathetic and you know nothing.  Prove me wrong.  The blade ignored the man's collarbone and delved deep into his body.  Ellie had no choice but to leave it there as another guard attacked.  There is no tactical retreat, and there is no strategic surrender.  There is only winning and losing.  Completing the objective, and failing to do so.  As the three men remaining closed in on her, Ellie focused her willpower and delivered a swift palm strike to a pirate's face.  A split second later, she wrenched the cutlass from his hand and stabbed a second man.  As the sword of the last armed assailant bounced off of her metal mask, Ellie brought his head to her knee, knocking him out cold.  You are a choleric, and cholerics do not lose.

                "Which room will I find Clive Dupoint in?"  she demanded, holding a blade to the throat of the only conscious man in the room.  Still dazed from having jaw smashed by her palm, he took a while to answer.  Ellie pressed the sword hard enough to paint a thin red line along his neck.

                "Third floor, second door on the left!"

                "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"  she said cheerfully, putting him to sleep with a swift blow from the flat of her blade.

                As she ascended the stairs, Ellie began to suspect that she was not the only enemy to Clive Dupoint in the building.  The bleeding carcasses of corsairs littered her path as she made her way to the third floor.  Maybe it will be an 'enemy of my enemy' deal, and they'll agree to let me kill Dupoint myself, she mused.   I just hope I'm not too late.

                To her delight, she was not too late, because as she entered the room, it was not difficult to spot the arms dealer.  Pudgy and round from gorging himself on expensive meals, he still retained the same grizzled look as the corsairs and smugglers he dealt with.  He wore a sailor's hat with a large peacock feather in it, and an outfit made from red velvet, which would have made him look far more kingly had he not been in shackles.

                "What's going on here?"  Ellie demanded to the men in red robes surrounding her target.  The man who was clearly the leader as made apparent by the large hat, stepped forward and drew a scroll from his robe.

                "This man is a wanted criminal.  He's been charged with providing known seperationists with weapons.  I have here a warrant for his arrest, signed by the emperor himself."

                Ellie was not aware that Archia had an emperor, but didn't much care.  She thought back to what councilman Armand had said at their graduation.  There is nothing more I can teach you, but that tattoo on your wrist does not make you an assassin.  There is one more task yet to be done.  None of you may call yourself assassins until you have finished your first job.  Find and kill your  target and you will truly, finally, be finished training.  Ellie glanced first at her scimitar, then at her target, and finally at the long spears held by the men in red.  I won't make it.  If I draw my sword they'll be on me in seconds.  Ellie took a deep breath and hatched a plan.  This is it.

                With all of the strength she had, Ellie lunged forward at her target.  She snatched a spear out of the hand of one of the red robed men, and with a firm grip on the cold iron, drove it clean through Dupoint's neck.  In the same instant, the firm metal of a spear handle collided heavily with her skull.  As her body fell to the ground and her mind drifted off into oblivion, the girl's mouth formed into a triumphant smile.