(1) A Whisper in the Storm

“Only five of you?” Rayvn released a sigh and looked around the top floor of Colari’s prized monument. He drew his sword in the slow confidence born from decades of experience. The quintet of bodyguards facing him brandished their own weapons in response. They stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking further access to the chamber.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” demanded the robed man cowering behind the human wall.

“Be with you in a moment, Minister,” Rayvn replied. After studying his opposition for another moment, he pointed at the guard second from the left. “Your boss makes a fortune selling children into slavery. I’m sure he pays you well enough to buy better boots than those.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “I’ll have to kill you first.”

The tall man to his far right charged with a grunt of exertion. The discordant ring of steel against steel rang out twice. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his throat.

Rayvn had already turned his attention to his left. With a sidestep and a feint faster than his opponents could follow, he put his blade through his original target’s heart, retracted and severed the neck of the man to his right, then parried the single attack from the far left before slicing open that man’s abdomen.

The last guard standing shook his head and slowly backed away, trembling. Rayvn ended him with such speed his expression of horror remained frozen in death even after the body hit the stone floor.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you,” Rayvn said to the man on his knees, gurgling with head bowed. “But that other guy had to die first. You saw those boots, right? The ignorance of some people. And I have to be a man of my word. Integrity’s important, you know.” The man wheezed in response. A tiny stream of blood trickled from his open mouth. “Hey, if you hadn’t attacked, you wouldn’t be suffering, so that’s on you.”

Rayvn slid his obsidian-colored blade between the man’s ribs with the same ease as one parting a stick of soft butter with a spoon. The man exhaled and slumped to his side. Rayvn crouched and wiped his weapon clean on the man’s tunic, then sheathed it, and rose to face his mark. He paused before one of the full-length windows and sighed. “You know, views like this almost make life bearable.”

From this height he could see all of Tengiri’s capital in every direction. The waning sunset bathed the minaret’s smooth skin in warmth and brilliance. On clear evenings, the glowing stone tower resembled a golden spear, thrusting from the city’s center into the heavens. A testament to Colari’s history and culture, it was often mistaken as a safe place to hide.

“How did you even get in here?” shrieked the nobleman huddled on the floor in the center of the room.

Rayvn regarded the man with apathy. “Walls are easy and locks are easier.” As he approached, the man whimpered and scurried on his hands and heels until the stone wall halted his retreat.

“Oh, gods, you’re him, aren’t you?” Each word vibrated with his shivering. “That black blade…y-you’re…t-the Terror of Lucian!”

“And you’re King Atrio’s Census Minister. He was very disappointed to find out you’ve been preying on helpless orphans and pocketing the profits. Can’t say I’m okay with it either, having been an orphan myself.”

The minister’s eyes grew wide. “M-my missing ledger?”

Rayvn nodded. “That was the first half of the job. And since I was in town…” He shrugged, leaving the obvious unsaid. The brisk evening breeze whistled through the billowing curtains. Metallic hints of blood mixed with the pungent incense circulating around the chamber.

The politician shot his arms up, palms out. “Wait! Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it. And then I’ll disappear. You can tell everyone I’m dead, get paid, and earn a good bit on the side.”

“Just like you, eh?” Rayvn scoffed and shook his head, then leaned in close. “If I’m being honest, I’d have done this job for free. People in your position should be helping those in need, not exploiting them.”

“Please don’t kill me!” He might’ve noticed the look of disgust in Rayvn’s blue eyes had he not clamped his own shut.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you.” Rayvn straightened and turned, moving toward the nearest corpse.

Disbelief cracked open the minister’s eyes. “R-really?”

Rayvn glanced back at him with a grin. “The ground will.” He began arranging the bodies in various poses. “Here’s the story: a couple of your guards found your ledger and threatened to expose you, but the loyal ones tried to get it back. There was a big fight, they all died, and in the end, you couldn’t handle the guilt.” He made a sweeping motion. “There are several windows available. Take your pick.”

“But…but…”

“Either you jump, or I throw you out. I’d rather not, since I was hired to make this look like a suicide, but an ‘accidental shove during the scuffle’ will work just as well. Now decide. This job’s dragged on long enough, and I’m getting hungry.”

Sobbing, the minister rose to his feet and shuffled toward the nearest window. The last curve of the sun clung to the horizon and set the tower ablaze in fiery auburn hues. “There’s a good man,” Rayvn said, nodding. “Believe it or not, this won’t hurt if you keep your eyes closed. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Rayvn turned away to study the bodies one last time as if looking for miniscule flaws in a priceless work of art. Over his shoulder he added, “And try not to scream on the way down. It’ll help sell the suicide.”

⸞⸟

“Clean?” Torrik asked without looking up. A collection of parchments blanketed his large mahogany desk.

“As if you had to ask,” Rayvn answered from a high-backed velvet chair positioned across from the desk. Torches in each of the room’s corners illuminated the House Master’s office with an ominous aura befitting most tavern tales.

Torrik looked up, a tiny smirk hidden beneath the thick goatee. “Always happy to take the king’s gold. It amuses me how far he’s willing to go to keep his hands clean.”

Rayvn shrugged. “He’s buying a legacy. He wants history to remember him as a peaceful ruler, and knows the people are too ignorant to question the narrative.” He dug into a pocket and held up a small leather purse. “Here. Per your request.”

Torrik raised a hand and beckoned, and Rayvn tossed him the pouch. With nimble fingers he untied the drawstring, pulled out a small chunk of cured meat and tossed it in his mouth. “Want some?”

Rayvn raised his palm. “Too spicy.”

Torrik shrugged before lobbing another nugget past his lips. He snatched up a nearby goblet. After a long pull he said, “Got another job for you.”

“Already?” Rayvn leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Give it to Qarryl.”

Torrik shook his head. “Can’t. He’s busy taking the head off of some noblewoman’s cheating husband in New Mellym. She wants it on display on top of the fountain in the town square, and I know you don’t like that kind of work. Besides, this one’s high profile, and Makira insisted on you. Best of the best, no mistakes.” He grinned. “Makira even tripled the rate. The client didn’t question it. And I did some haggling of my own. Your cut is considerable this time. You’re welcome.”

“Enough to buy out my contract?”

Torrik chuckled. “That’s funny. Legendary assets don’t retire at the height of their glory.”

“Don’t or can’t?”

“Sumenese islands this time,” Torrik said. He held out a scroll, curled up and secured with a wax seal. Rayvn leaned forward to take it, then sank back into the chair with a grunt. “The mark’ll be at a temple for some sort of prayer ritual. Suicide, same as the last job. Plant that with the body. I assume it’s her confession of whatever terrible act they’re pinning on her. You’ll only have a two-day window, so be quick. Based on the client’s request, I’ve concluded—”

Rayvn wasn’t listening. He’d stopped paying attention years ago. He stared at the roll of parchment in his hand but didn’t bother to look at it. Another job. Another life. After two decades, he’d lost count. Not that it mattered. There was nothing special about his assignments, and nothing he couldn’t handle with ease.

“…because that’s who you are,” Torrik concluded, bearing a smile like those worn by proud fathers gazing at their talented sons.

Rayvn made eye contact and nodded, forcing another confident smirk. Like his kills, there’d been too many to count. “That’s who I am.”