Ah Torren, a city blooming with dark alleyways and sewer pipes that cough steam into the night time. With his identity covered by a new mask, Arlandra glided through the dark empty streets like a ghost. He was one to haunt his targets, and as Garn Pallerii entered quickly into a shining hotel lobby, passing over a velvet carpet, and riding an elevator up to his room, Arlandra couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve an Assassin’s blade. Had Garn crossed the storeowner off in a business deal? That was usually the case, although it seemed unlikely.
At least Garn was not a hard man to find. He used no fake names and he checked into the most expensive hotel in Torren – The Starry Night. So Garn was a semi-famous, well-known and well-connected businessman.
Arlandra turned to the left and fleetingly crossed the dark street, careful to avoid being seen. He snuck around to an old residence building that looked across to Garn’s hotel. From here he would be able to watch the target carefully for a while.
A kind old man with shallow eyes showed Arlandra where he would be staying for the night. It was just a small room, with a small balcony, and a small bathroom. Hardly a vacation house, but it would do. There were at least three exits, the bathroom offered a handy place to hide in case any intruders payed him a visit, and there was a perfect view of the street as well as the window into Garn’s room. It didn’t smell very nice, though.
Arlandra thanked the old man and gave him some gold coins for the room, and then another to make sure he’d forget ever giving him the room. With all that settled, Arlandra made some tea and then sat down on the balcony with a small lightweight telescope for spying. He knew that he’d be there for a while.
Garn’s opened window offered a wide view into the luxurious hotel room. The velvet red walls were much like the lobby, only with little criss-cross patterns along them, and the bed was big enough for nearly five people. Garn walked over and placed a bag on the end of the bed. The bag was opened and as it tumbled across the bed a roll of paper fell out.
I wonder what that could be, Arlandra pondered, as he adjusted the telescope. He couldn’t see it well so it could have been anything, and he dismissed wondering about it any further. Garn appeared to be waiting for something or someone. He paced back and forth in his room a few times and then suddenly straightened himself.
Someone was at the door…
For a moment Garn left Arlandra’s view. He returned later with a slightly aged noble lady by his side. She wore a full white dress and was all business-like. Her thinning grey-blonde hair was curled to her shoulders and there was diamond jewellery at about every place that one could put diamond jewellery; rings, ear rings, necklaces and the like. The skin on her face was creased around her cheeks and eyes, but it seemed unnatural to Arlandra. This woman was wealthy.
Arlandra suddenly recognised the woman was Mrs Maryanne Lynn. She owned the treasury in the city of Taelliwey, and was most certainly a big deal. She was also dangerous, especially to an assassin who was plotting to murder her accomplice. Mrs Lynn was one of the higher-ups at the royal palace and she was likely to be the kind of person who ate lunches with the king. This had become a very dangerous game. A celebrity businessman and a friend to the king… this should all make for a fulfilling challenge.
The voice of master Ronin appeared in Arlandra’s mind, as if whispered from the lips of a ghost. ‘We are not murderers, child...’ He shook the thought away. There was no going back. The Order of Assassins was over, and so were their rules. He decided before that he would see this through no matter what, but he knew that he’d have to be careful.
Garn and Maryanne talked long into the night and soon enough Arlandra grew weary of them. He no longer observed them constantly – only to check that Garn was still there. He had to wait until Garn was alone, either when he drifted to sleep or as soon as he left the building. But the kill would be much easier if Garn would leave the building. Go for a walk or something.
Arlandra continued to observe Garn and Maryanne, and then the woman stood up and graciously left. Arlandra readied himself. During his time with The Order he was capable of waiting months for a kill to present itself, but something about this guy made him anxious. There was a troubling look in Garn’s eye, and it made the assassin uneasy. Maybe it was because of the Taellian soldiers he had run into.
The assassin’s window of opportunity would surely close soon enough, and he felt it was getting smaller and smaller by the minute. He lowered his telescope, and strangely caught sight of a lone figure moving across the empty street. Again he raised the telescope and glanced down. The figure had a postured walk and was covered in a heavy coat. Only his long brown hair was visible from Arlandra’s angle. Then he lowered the telescope and thought for a moment. It’s the soldier, he realised.
A wave of panic brushed through his body like a chilling breeze. He quickly checked the rest of the street to see if his new friend was alone. For a kill to be successful an environment had to be as controlled as possible. Not a single detail could be missed. This was easy enough, but with a group of Taellian soldiers after him, not so much. Arlandra dreaded that this would happen; that they would come after him. Every instinct within his body told him to leave now, but he was compelled to stay. Surely he could outsmart a few soldiers, and they still might not even properly know who he was. He would have to find out. As for Garn, he would have to make a decision: stay or leave.
But the choice was easy enough – there was no other way for him. This kill would happen tonight.
ns 172.70.42.239da2
