Chapter One Hundred And Twenty Eight - Rules of an Assassin

Rule Number One - You are not a person, you are a weapon

The metallic click of a key turning in a lock, brought the inhabitants to attention. They listened intently as the door to their dungeon creaked wide open. They heard the footfalls of two men, one much heavier of foot than the other, his pace sluggish as each foot fell to the stone floor without grace. The other had the light, crisp pattern attributed to a man confident about his merchandise.

"I am sure we may be able to accommodate your circumstances," the man familiar to inhabitants was saying, as he led the other. "Our weapons are the finest and most well honed, after all." The larger man said nothing, struggling to keep his breath as he followed through these dark halls. They stopped before a barred cell.

Rules Number Two - Emotion is For the Weak

"This is One," the merchant was advising him. "He is our most swift weapon and has a small talent with ice, though he never uses it." The round man, who wore the finest cut garments available in the city stared at the cold youth in the cell. He simply stood there, unmoving, his face expressionless and his eyes without any apparent feeling, as if they were unseeing black gemstones. They flickered in response to the appraisal once, before not a single additional thought revealed. The merchant laughed. "Ah, I do believe that One has just calculated the best way to kill you." The fat Lord stepped back and wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. "Shall we continue?"

Rule Number Three - A Weapon Knows No Gender.

"This is a woman?" The Lord declared. The female known as Two glanced up as she lounged on the cell bed, seductively, her ample chest pushed invitingly forward and her rounded hips obvious as she posed.

"Two is a weapon, not a woman," the merchant advised him. "Just as a blade does not care about the gender of whom it pierces, the corpse does not care about the gender of the one that killed it."

"Still, she would be better suited to a man's bed than a cell," muttered the man, insistently. She could most definitely walk amongst the most stunning of courtesans and not look out of place amongst them.

"I would warn you from your temptation," the merchant told him. "She would slice your throat in your sleep, if she even deems you worthy to touch her."

Rule Number Four - Failure means Death

"Wait, we just passed a cell," the Lord pointed out.

The merchant gave him a small polite smile. "That cell is empty."

Rule Number Five - The Shadows are Your Friend

"This is Four," the merchant gestured at the cell, but there apparently was no one within it. "Four, show yourself." A thin man appeared suddenly from the shadows, his face coated in dirt from the cell floor. He gazed only at his feet, away from the dim light of the torch and refused to meet the eyes of either the merchant or the fat purchaser. The merchant tsked. "You may go." The man blended back into the dark as if he had never been there in the first place. "Despite appearances, he is very competent in his work. His victims never catch him in wait and never make a sound as they part from this world." The fat man gulped audibly.

Rule Number Six - The Client is God

There was no one in the fifth cell nor sixth, though it was due to the latter being on a mission that he was not in residence. The fifth however could be found elsewhere.

In the seventh cell, there were two individuals, a young man and a boy. The man was sitting against the back of the cell with his legs sprawled across the thin cot, while balanced in his lap was a boy. The man was a large being. His neck was thick, his arms coated in ropey muscle, his chest could shadow three average mage apprentices. He also had height, if the length of his legs were anything to go by. His skin was an ashen brown in tone, could have once been a rich, dark colour if not for the lack of light.

The boy, in contrast, was very small, clearly he lacked strength. He was also very beautiful and his pale eyes seemed too pure to be that of a killer.

The merchant sighed inwardly, but held onto the expression of a man who had no concerns regarding his products and turned to face the Lord. "The man there is Five and the boy is Seven. Five is a necessary weapon when one requires brute strength. He is also able to cast a little shadow magic, which enables him to move swiftly from one place to another." Fortunately, this ability was only for himself and limited in range or both this troublesome pair would have likely long flown from reach.

The Lord licked his lips. "And the boy?"

Who could not tell what this lavishous Lord was thinking? "Seven is a Master when it comes to creating potions. He also has the ability to tame rock vipers." Rock vipers were small, agile snakes that lived in the underground and were even more deadly than the poisonous plants upon the surface. Fortunately, they did not tend to venture near human habitats. It was a wonder that this boy had tamed two after he survived the selection process...

In a world where magic meant everything, what happened to the ones with little magic? For most it was not too major a thing. A farmer could still harvest his crops, a soldier could still wield his sword, a child could still be raised to perform in their parents stead. But what if a child was born of those who expected him to be great?

Children within orphanages were not just foundling babies left due to their questionable birth or those without parents or others who cannot be cared for them due to circumstance. There were also the abandoned. The abandoned were those without magic. They would never be much more than a burden, it was extremely rare that they would be adopted and once they became adults, their unfortunate fate might be to beg on the street, to steal to eat or to sell themselves. What was worse was if they were caught...

A few of these abandoned were given the false hope of adoption. But the man who came to get them would not come to care or love them. First that person would strip them of their name. Not their last name, which would have been lost the moment they became abandoned, but their first. Then these nameless children would be thrown in a cold damp cell with other magic lacking children. The small boys and girls, for gender soon became irrelevant to them, would curl up together for warmth at night, but would fight come morning for the scraps of bread fed to them. After a time, these feral children would be thrown into a pit of beasts to 'train.' Those unable to blend into the shadows or move with stealth would be caught. Those unable to fight back would be hurt or killed. With each 'training' session, their numbers slowly dwindled until there were less than ten of them.

These survivors would finally be given names, as such. Soulless and ready to be tempered, these were no longer children, but blunt weapons.

When Seven had crawled out from the pit, he brought with him those two slithering creatures, one pure white with obsidian black eyes and one scaled black with glassy, white eyes. They hid within his sleeves and once, when a client overstepped certain boundaries, they sprang forth from where they hid and injected their deadly venom into the man. He had not lived longer than a few minutes.

It had been a pity.. for the client, however the boy's handlers reported that not only had he completed his mission, they had obtained the agreed fee. The contract had not been for more than that, so the client should not have expected more. The client may be considered God, but weapons should always be handled with care.

Rule Number Six of An Assassin - You Do Not Serve the Kingdom, You Serve Us

Eight was also a woman, but as she was of plain appearance, the Lord made no comment regarding her sex. He looked at her with no real interest, at first as Two and Seven were the black succubus and white incubus of these products. Besides, she was huddled upon the bed, to one corner, her appearance dishevelled, her brown and green curls falling like a tangled nest over her thin frame. And then he took note of the extensive mark on her arm that travelled upward until it vanished beneath her sleeveless dress.

"Yes, we are fortunate to have obtained Eight," the merchant was saying. "This girl was thrown away for superstitious reasons before the mage halls discovered her. As you can see her magic far outweighs the talents of the others." The Lord nodded his agreement, most of the others marks were barely midway to their elbow. The beautiful boy that caught his eye was so deficient in magic that his did not even trail beyond his wrist. "You see her affiliation is with plants! Hence she was seen as a threat, so abandoned until we came to discover her. If she was not a threat then, she most certainly is now!" The merchant added, jovially.

The merchant guided the man out of the basement dungeon and up the flight of stairs towards his office. "Now, are you interested in signing a contract with us, Respected Lord Fortunous?"