Infamy is a burden to some; and a blessing to others..

Morning broke uneventfully over Nijon as the sun rose from its slumber and removed the blanket of night, beaming down upon the kingdom of jade like a smug teenager as it heralded the start of a new day. Two cheeky rays of light crept through the window as the sun ascended to its throne, shining dazzling rays onto B’esctra’s eyelids and rousing him from his rest in time to hear the resonating voice of a gong. The Kokkai Inn was a place that didn’t believe in ‘beauty sleep’ and so every morning the innkeeper struck a gong to announce the serving of breakfast; regardless of how late its patrons arrived the night before.

Slipping out of bed upon the second ‘chime’, the Drow took a few moments to stretch his limbs and then heading out of his room immediately, after all when you were as distrustful as he was you always slept in your armour and kept a weapon close at hand anyway. Brushing a few strands of his light-blue hair out of his eyes the assassin considered taking the stairs, glanced at them reproachfully and then leapt over the parapet entirely so he could perform a death-defying series of flips instead. Civilian life for B’esctra, just like recalled soldiers was astoundingly dull when there wasn’t anything to kill and so he was forced to invent his own ‘entertainment’ by defying convention and usually, the bounds of sanity as well.

Landing in the lobby with an exaggerated roll, the assassin was just turning in the direction of the dining room when a nervous desk clerk piped up with an unexpected “Ah there you are” which piqued B’esctra’s interest and diverted his attention away from his stomach for a minute or two as he went to investigate. Fixing the clerk with a passive stare he leant upon the oak counter infront of him and patiently inquired “ Did you need something?”. Impressively the Drow’s Nijonese seemed to have come a long way since he first met Minshara in the jungle because the man promptly informed him that someone had left a message for him last night.

Normally the clerk would have expected payment for delivering a note, but the way B’esctra snatched it from his hand without actually seeming to move made him rethink procedure and caused him to make an exception in this case. Carefully unfolding the note, lest he tear it, the assassin glanced at its contents and then tore it up into little pieces without thinking, which was a standard practice in his line of work and then considered Myrnal’s warning thoughtfully.

So someone is after me are they? Perhaps the High Advisor's death wasn’t as clean as I believed it to be. This revelation was troubling for two reasons really because it not only meant that he had been sloppy, which was a sign of weakness to him, but also that he would have to take precautions to ensure he avoided retribution for the assassination as well.

Keeping his hand warily resting upon his sword-hilt, B’esctra surveyed the lobby for a few calculating seconds and then headed into the dining room in search of some sustenance because if he had to leave town in a hurry, he’d rather not do it on an empty stomach.  Tucking into a leg of deer he quietly reflected on the irony this life seemed to bring him, for he had come to Nijon seeking fresh opportunities and now it looked like he might have to leave to ‘tie up loose ends’ rather than milk the jade empire for its wealth.

The sound of knuckles against wood and a vaguely familiar female voice caused Hakaril to perk up a bit, snapping out of his exasperated reverie. He turned, placing a hand on the brim of his hat to lift it out of the way should it obscure his vision, and frowned slightly. The woman standing beside him was someone he knew, to be certain, but it was unclear as to precisely who. Hakaril was on friendly terms with few enough women that the list of names to run through was very short.

"Amber?" he queried. "No, wait. She was an elf. You're not." Dark hair and eyes. The length was about right, even if the style wasn't. Attractive, slim, athletic. An excellent job sneaking up on him, to say the least, though it could easily be chalked up to how distracted he was by the insolence of the Nijonese border guard. But he didn't really know any Nijonese women, and this girl was dressed like a local peasant. Then again, her Common was impeccable and accentless. It was much more likely that she was from the north, unless of course she was some kind of trained...

It suddenly occurred to the wizard that he had been missing something relatively obvious. The woman was wearing a very distinctive piece of jewelry, a silver four-pointed arrow on a black cord around her neck.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hakaril. "Of course! Myrnal! You know, you should consider it a testament to your skills that I didn't recognize you immediately. Your master would be proud, knowing that you could masquerade effortlessly as a common Nijonese..." His eyes fell on the expensive-looking cane. "...brothel madam."

He held up a hand, as though to cut off any response. "Before you say anything else, I'll answer your question. I'm doing fantastic, aside from the fact that those damned guards won't let me into the country without papers. Stupid regulations. If they're going to be that way, I don't want to be in their nation. I'll go enjoy myself elsewhere. And spend my money elsewhere, too!" The last line was practically shouted, hand cupped around his mouth in crude imitation of a bullhorn, as though Hakaril were trying to demonstrate the immense damage that would be done to the Nijonese economy by not allowing him passage without question.

"Well," he concluded, "I've had enough of this. I honestly don't want to turn around and walk back through the jungle, though. You've been through the jungle before, haven't you? The plants are infinitely worse than the orcs, I swear. Did they try to eat you, too? I was just thinking about how absurd an ecosystem that is, one where the plants are eating the people!" He paused briefly, looking like he might stamp his foot in indignation any second. He didn't.

"It makes me want to set a field of wheat on fire, or something, just to spite them. F$&@ing plants." Lost in his own little world, Hakaril stared at the ground, grumbling something incomprehensible about chlorophyll.

"No, no," replied Hakaril, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm not terribly interested in drunken revelry right now, and besides, they won't let me into the damned country."

It was at that point that the merchant sitting in the cart Hakaril was using to prop himself up leaned over the edge of his vehicle and cleared his throat. "Pardon me," he said. "I don't mean to eavesdrop, but you can get a pass at any of the government offices around here. All you really have to do is ask someone to escort you and pay the proper taxes."

The wizard looked up at the stranger who had decided to advise him, blinked twice, and promptly turned back to Myrnal. "Anyway. I don't want to visit their stupid country anymore. So I was trying to figure out what to do next. And as much fun as it would be to sit around and drink, you haven't got time to do it properly." He smirked, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "If there was one thing I learned at the Academy, aside from how to turn a brick into a rabbit and then cause the rabbit to explode in a shower of colorful pyrotechnics, it was how to drink until I blacked out and woke up in a pile of animated trousers."

He paused, scratching his neck. "I was going somewhere with that. I forget where. Hold on a second." A light breeze whipped through the mage's hair. If Hakaril were anyone else, some dramatic inspiration would have come to mind, but he was still somewhat uncertain as to where he was going with all his rambling about his school days. "Nevermind. In any case, I can't stand the thought of sitting around here much longer. Where are you going, exactly? Perhaps I might tag along. You said you just finished some sort of job? That means you're totally unattached, doesn't it? I haven't got anything to do myself, and at the present I'm just looking for something entertaining to do. Right now I'm a little short on money, but you know how it is. Perhaps I should just catch a boat back to the north side of the continent."

"Besides," he added, "don't they usually have alcohol on ships? I wonder what it's like to be drunk on a boat..."

The morning came rather quickly. Min awoke before Aishigara did, his blissfully sleeping form still lay quite harmlessly next to her. The sun was already high in the sky… and with all the commotion coming from the direction of Somnia’s room, she figured Myrnal and her were long gone.

First, she had to endure the loss of Demetri and Larkin in one fell swoop. Then, Altair announced his departure. She had not expected the three of them to remain in Nijon throughout her duration but she had gotten used to their presence, and found herself – as she stared at the ceiling – missing them.

Now, Myrnal was leaving and taking Somnia, the strange girl, with her  or at least, it sounded like it.

For the first time, Min felt the sheer weight of her loneliness keenly. The sorrow she had successfully spent the night evading, returned with a vengeance. The mercenary had been with her since the beginning and… the only reason why she wouldn’t miss Somnia was because Min didn’t know her very well.

There was, of course, B'esctra. Min shrugged. She wasn’t that hard up for companionship in a strange land.

Getting up, she packed her things as Aishigara continued sleeping. The rugged knapsack looked odd when paired with her new genteel clothing, pulling the robe a little to one side as the leather strap snagged at the summer kimono. Her cash wasn't going to last forever and Min didn't know what to do now that she was here. One thing was for sure... she needed a cheaper place to stay. The temple here did not take strangers in but perhaps someone there might know of a suitable location. Placing a coin to tip the cleaning woman, Min checked out of the Kokkai long after the last of her friends left, and before Aishigara woke up.


The roads pounded against the soles of her feet as Min walked the streets aimlessly. She had hidden her dagger in the folds of her robe as she realized that no one spoke to her much, only bowed as their eyes fell upon it. Now, that it was hidden. They simply ignored her when they realized she was a traveling physician… a hinin amongst heimin and bushi.

The sun had begun to sink low into the horizon, its golden rays warming her face as she begun to walk to a flophouse a kind stranger at the temple had pointed her towards. He was a strange man, with long brown hair and eyes as green as his robes. Holding on to the strap of her back with both hands, she turned on her heel and started to walk…

“You there!”

The jarring authoritative tone jolted her to attention. Returning to her orginal orientation, she saw a youth much younger than herself, standing defiantly with his hands on his hips.

“Physician!” The word seemed to leave a sour taste in his mouth as he seemed to spit it out. “You are needed at the dojo!”

Min was beginning to wonder if the child did not know how to speak without shouting. She cocked her head to one side, an expression of mild annoyance mixed with tolerance upon her face. There was a reason why teenagers avoided her presence back on Tarsis.

“I’m done for the day, boy,” she replied wearily, deciding to ignore him and just head on to the flophouse as she had originally planned. “Find someone else.”

She heard no reply. Only felt it.

A sharp pain in the form of a smack at the back of her head as an old worn out sandal hit her rudely. Spinning upon her heel, she turned upon the child with a look of fury only a woman was capable of. Maternal instincts be damned.

He looked upon her smugly with a look only deluded spoilt offspring of equally deluded aristocratic parents could muster.

Horridly, she tossed the old shoe back into his chest. Walking up to him, her slender finger jabbed sharply into his chest as her furious eyes wiped the smirk clean of his face. “Look here, you little twit…” she growled. “I don’t know which cow and donkey bore your little shit-faced body into this world but I’m going to tell you nicely to go away before I take this-“ she waved the slipper millimeters in front of his nose “- and shove it down your throat… so help me, Hirin.”

“You will do what?” another voice interrupted her. “Get your hands off him!”

Min closed her eyes and turned to see a young man, perhaps a year or two younger than herself. This one looked like trouble. She sighed in resignation. “Look, I don’t want any trouble… Your friend here threw a slipper to the back of my head,”

The older youth’s face contorted with an anger that was far too large than anything she had anticipated. A sharp slap drove Min to her knees as the contents of her bag spilled themselves upon the dirt road. The bitter taste of blood seeped from between her teeth.

“Bloody hinin,” the first boy grinned as he drove a heel viciously into her side. “I am the first son of Lord Ishigara of the Winterfalls Clan. How dare you speak to me in that tone, much less, refuse me?!”

Pressing her palms against the floor, Min tried to push herself up. Getting beaten up by children younger than her was not what she had in mind but beating them up when they were obviously the sons of important men was not an option either.

A second sandal, this time with a foot in it, drove her shoulder back into the mud. The hilt of her dagger reveled itself.

The older youth spoke, “I am the son of the Daimyo’s retainer… now, you are lucky that we need your tongue and hands intact. We will deal with your insolence later…” He would have stopped there if not for the glare off the shiny lacquer. Reaching for the dagger, he was rudely stopped by her hands.

“Looks like we have ourselves a thief,” the second boy smiled. “Such a nice dagger…” he tried to reach into her robes, sliding his hand through the folds at the front. Knowing she was in trouble either way, Minshara grabbed his hand and bit into it as hard as she could. A fist pummeled into her cheek and Min tasted the ditchwater once more.

“The dagger can wait, Mori-san,” the younger boy stopped him with a hint of discomfort in his voice. “Sakamoto-Sensei is waiting… and you know how he tolerates hinin. Don’t rough her up too badly.”

The elder youth only gave a mean laugh and nodded. Grabbing her by the collar, Min felt herself dragged into the dojo; with her hands holding her bad to her chest, her cheeks and lips streaked with dirt and blood, her kimono muddy and soiled and her face filled with a cold repressed anger.

The important thing now was to simply do what was needed of her. Afterwards, she would talk her way out of the situation or if needed and without compromising her ethics, used the patient to her advantage.

---

OOC: Sorry it's so bleargh... I'm just glad I finally got to post.

"Oh, right, that." Hakaril sheepishly scratched at his neck. "I dunno, I thought it sounded pretty good. After all, it was fairly likely that I might need to meet someone for an impotant tea ceremony. And I had truly intended upon attending a tea ceremony while I was in the country this time around. I hear they're absolutely amazing. Then again, there was always the possibility that I would get involved in a tea ceremony and that it would turn out to be totally boring, but...oh, whatever." The wizard frowned, clearly trying to organize his thoughts a bit. "It's safe to say that I was talking about a potential tea ceremony instead of an actual tea ceremony. You can't be a stranger to the idea of telling white lies, shadow-stalker."

The blue-haired man turned and walked away from Myrnal a few steps before turning around and walking back, pacing back and forth a bit as he made all kinds of wild gestures with his hands. It was conceivable that this exercise was somehow intended to help him focus, or at the very least, that it served the purpose of giving him something to do. After a few moments of this, he stopped again, turned back toward Myrnal, and placed one hand on his hip, adopting an oddly feminine pose.

"So, are you here by yourself, as usual, or did you bring along some new friends that you are by all standards of politeness duly required to introduce me to?"

Nothing is precious until it is lost, nothing is treasured until it is gone.

Soothing the rumbling of his stomach with some well-placed chunks of flesh, B’esctra looked as regal as a gentleman tucking into a sophisticated meal as he dissected the deer leg with subtle and elegant strokes. Dividing the hunk of meat into manageable ‘portions’ the assassin made short work of the morsel and was considering seconds when, in the adjoining room, Minshara settled her bill and checked herself out.

As sensitive as his senses were however, B’esctra hadn’t mastered the skill of x-ray vision and remained oblivious to his companion’s departure until he actually asked for another helping and was asked to pay for it. Analysing the situation for a moment, the Drow realized that he would only be asked to pay for something if Minshara had left because she had paid a hefty sum of cash when they initially arrived. Fobbing the cook off with a wave of his hand, B’esctra closed his eyes and spent a moment picturing Minshara in his mind whilst he formulated a plan.

First those dark blue eyes, then the crop of hair that frames them and finally the olive skin that holds the petite package together. If the assassin had been capable of modesty, he would have perhaps recalled her with her clothes on but they were as varied as flakes of snow in Nijon and he therefore chose firmer anchors to visualize instead.

White puffs of cloud drift peacefully between her shoulder blades and, as the eye wonders down her ample chest, they eventually arrive upon her wrist where Nijionese symbols are intricately etched. Once he had established an image clearer than any pond he activated the psionic ability he had procured the night before and vanished from the Kokkai Inn during one blink, and the next. Any magician can make magic seem easy with sleight of hand and showmanship, but teleportation was a bit more complicated than ‘moving from A to B’ for, as any learned wizard would tell you, without preparation you could end up buried in a wall.

While synapses fired and ‘psychic energy’ accumulated, B’esctra rapidly calculated the path of approach by extending his minds eye a few hundred metres ahead of him and developing a ghost-like model of the streets inside his head. This allowed him to avoid the obvious pitfalls of solid objects and shift his entire body from the inn’s interior, to Minshara’s position in the space of a second.

Emerging from the subliminal slip-stream behind a merchants cart, he stealthily fell ‘into step’ behind the woman and became a silent shadow that flitted from one patch of ‘cover’ to the next in an attempt to pursue her and discover where she was going now. Tailing people was a lost art in this day and age, because what people didn’t understand is the key, the very core of the process was never to interfere, no matter what happens or how much you are distracted.

The main reason this didn’t work for most people though, was that people got too emotional without intending to. Oh sure they talked the talk and pretended they were heartless bastards but it took a particularly depraved soul to impassively watch as a woman was tormented by some thugs. In truth, B’esctra was neither good nor evil in this situation because, whilst he wouldn’t let them kill the subject of his interest, he wasn’t about to intervene because of a nagging sense of guilt either. Mercy was an alien thing to him, a concept that he could never understand no matter how many children he slaughtered and therefore he watched, quiet and patient, as the thugs indulged themselves and then lead her off through the city. Following closely behind them, without revealing his presence in the slightest, the Drow neatly slipped through the doors the troop passed through without a sound and ‘melted’ into the shadows as they halted their journey in the Dojo’s central section.

B’esctra reasoned that he would monitor the event as it developed and then, if it looked like the ‘thugs’ would dispose of Minshara he would dispatch them before they had a chance to realize he was even there.

"Damn it, Hakaril." Myrnal rolled her eyes. "I'm not crippled. Couple of days ago I got poisoned on a job. The equally-toxic remedy is sticking around longer than the wolfsbane did, and in the middle of long marches and getting attacked in the night I haven't gotten a chance to get some f@#$ing rest. I would slit a man's throat for a beer and a f@#$ing nap." Myrnal sighed and shook her head in frustration.

She didn't want to address his assessment of her reliability. She was glad that Hakaril felt that way, and while she didn't sense he was especially given to flattery, it was still a little hard for her to believe. Sure, she always tried her best to be someone that her allies could count on, to be someone they didn't have to worry about. Yet at the same time, she didn't expect her allies to notice it.

"And I'm headed back to Tarsis to see if I can't track down some old friends of the family. Got some questions for them and I..." She knew this had been her plan, but saying it aloud made it final, and uncomfortably real. "I need their help with someone who's been causing me some hassle." Let Aishigara bother her in Tarsis. He would find he'd come along at a very bad time in Myrnal's life, when Myrnal had claimed for herself the scattered fragments of her mother's legacy.

"So if you're bored and want to come along, I certainly won't tell you what to do." She clenched her teeth. Somehow that wasn't enough. "Good to have the company."

"Saaaa-teen minutes layto, Miss Delunaru."

Somnia took a deep, shocked breath as her hair frizzed, small beads of sweat beginning to peek across her forehead.  In each spot where the sharp edges jabbed on the wall and papers in front of her, green liquid saturated the surfaces and dripped down in small rivers.  Behind her, the sound of slowly trotting wooden shoes against the plank floor racked a frightening noise in her ears.

"Susususu-su-sumi mamaaaa sumima Su su."  Somnia stuttered as she tried to turn around, tears streaming down her ears as she held both hands up to her face.  In front of her, blurry by the wave of tears, an small old man with his hair bald on the top, frizzy on both sides with a face as tired and dragged out as time itself clopped towards her, two taller figures covered in blankets of shadow following him with even more of the throwing edges between their fingers.

"Sus su--I'M S-S-SSSSS-SORRY!"  The mercenary shouted as she dug furiously inside her long coat, thrusting out the pouch of the Orc's teeth and the taken rings.  As her hands held out her prized bounty, both of the shady figures pointed limply towards the wall behind her.  Hissing, ringing as a finger gracing the rim of fine glass, nearly invisible strings ripped away at the poor bag, stringing the rings that lay inside and knocking the teeth into the old man's hand as he stopped at Somnia's feet.  The lines strung through the entire shop, only visibly now that the signet rings that Somnia procured danced from side to side, caught by the small darts that tagged the walls around her.

"Hmmm...you know what is next, girl.  Open it, or not open it, no opening unless you get on boat to Miriel.  No boat to Miriel, no open.  ...I will know.  Also...give time.  No rush of job.  I need...to think about next move of you."  The old man mumbled, slipping a small fold of paper between the girl's chain belt as she looked down, shaking in her little boots and whining like a lost puppy.  One of the rings caught his attention, one different from the silver signet rings in that it possessed a blue hue.  The old man tapped the ring, bouncing it on the razor wire just to see the seal amongst its face.

"I knew I should not hire Gaijin.  Girl...what I tell you of mission.  Get it right, or you death time."

Somnia sniffled a bit, calming down over time for the fact that she wasn't dead yet.  Amidst a few choking words, she managed to make an understandable reply.

"I....uh...um.  I was supposed to...go out into the jungle and take down the Orc?"

"Why were you taking down the Orc, Girl?"

"Um...he had an iron smelter, and was selling cheap metal to the Imperial City through some shady dealers."

"What dealers, girl?"

"...Former...mercenaries...working for you?"

"And what I say about rings, girl?"

Somnia thought for a few seconds.  Did she mess up?  She was fairly sure that the mission was followed to a T.  It was a simple job, as easy as pie.  The only hard part was running into the strange people and being caught within their own problem.  Maybe the old man was getting on in years, or--unlikely as it was--she could have skipped a detail.

"You said...I was supposed to only take the rings with KETSUMATSU on them.  I remember what it looks like."  Somnia lifted her finger to a ring slowly so as not to have her finger sliced by the razor wire, and turned the ring towards him.  She let it go, pointing towards the blue colored ring that the old man inspected just a few seconds before.

"And...um...you said that you I shouldn't try to go stealing ring because you changed the rings out between your loyal members.  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  ...I get it!"

The old man lifted his finger and lowered his head, shaking in disappointment with a heavy sigh.  As his finger raised, the shadowed figure on the left broke into a quick sprint across the shop's floor.  Only the fluttering of the figure's black muffler about its neck and the shine of bright steel pulling from its waist could be seen as he dashed past, the old man's hair fluttering.

"W-WHOA WAIT!  I GOT THIS FROM SOMEONE WHO ATTACKED ME!"

In the same instant, the figure was standing in the same spot that Somnia was.  A weak shadow loomed overhead as it looked up, seeing Somnia's feet tucked underneath her as she came down from a rather hasty vault, landing on her haunches across the counter top.  The old man's eyebrows raised as the attacking shade staggered backwards, a woman's short chuckle coming from the other cloaked person.

"This...it says...A ME TEN SHI.  Ametenshi, right?  Came from some other person...um.  What was his name.  ...I didn't get his name.  But I didn't take it on purpose!  I coulda got a lot more if I did!  Um...I guess I don't sound very believable."

A small laugh came from the shrouded one who attacked him before as he made his way behind the old man again, his blade sheathing once again into the nothingness at his waist.  The old man looked at his two underlings, a nod coming from what was thought to be a woman and a short snort coming from the man.  After scratching his cheek for a few seconds, he slapped two of his fingers into his palm.  In a flash of quickly settling smoke, the two were gone.

"Continue."

"Ah!  Right!  Um...from what I could remember."

"Somnia.  Stop child act.  It annoying."

Her teeth grit a bit at that.  She wasn't acting, but she didn't like people calling her normal personality childish.  Almost as much as she hated the other side of her profession.  Somnia thought back to that time, when she was trying to catch up with Minshara in the jungle.  They seemed to be talking about something in a casual, but quite troubled manner.  Amidst a frenzy to escape and counteract assassins that held Myrnal's life in jeopardy, it was definitely strange.  The old man held his hand tout and lowered his head, reminding Somnia that she was still on his counter.  She yipped slightly, then jumped to her feet while dusting off her longcoat.

"Sorry, sorry...um.  How can I say this?  Mmm...  Ah, before that, I should mention something strange about the Orc.  It is related!"

"Go on."

"The Orc possessed a battle axe that couldn't have been crafted on his own resources.  Former to Nijon, too.  I do more treasure hunting than bounty hunting, so I can tell you that I'm PRETTY certain there was something special about it.  The axe had Fae runes on it.  Well...descendant of Fae I'd say."

"Hmmm...could Drow be helping Orc..."  The old man mumbled, looking to the side while stroking his chin.

"No!  That was the really strange part.  They were from a High Elven society!  Not an ancient one, either.  I think I saw them in the hands of some Royal Guard employers I had while excavating some ruins.  I...don't remember for certain what the runes meant, but I DO remember what it was for.  Nothing more than runes carved in cold iron.  The runes were used to enslave faefolk.  I know it was cold iron, because my SUZU here is made of steel.  The axe broke preeeetty easy."

Somnia nodded in agreement with herself as she pat her sword, then pointed at the ring again.

"That thing there, it came in the next day.  I still had three days until I had to return, so I camped out near the iron smelter to make sure nothing else happened.  I also had no rings and I...kinda wanted to get a bonus.  Somehow...the traitors to your mercenaries came right into my lap.  While chasing him, I bumped into these people."

"Stop.  No names yet."  The old man interrupted, gravely staring towards Somnia.  He looked to be drawing a conclusion.  Somnia closed her eyes and took a breathe.  She was on the same conclusion.

"...Ah...alright.  There was a small group of them.  I helped them out because I was lost in the jungle, and I needed help to get out.  While following one of them...the woman I was with was talking to what looked like one of your mercenaries.  Something about saving his child.  She didn't look to be strong, and another woman asked me to relay a message about Kuza-uzu.  I kept the antidote you gave me before the mission, to avoid identifying myself in case they were defectors.  The man that I took the ring from said that the woman disgraced his da--"

"His Daimyo.  Girl, you stumble into issue too dangerous for even me to touch.  I spare you details, but woman you met is the target of my men who are traitors to me.  We can not get involved one way or another.  For your sake, never speak to that woman again."

Somnia stared at the old man, staying silent.  She had the ability to avoid learning too much, and could hold her interest away for her own good most of the time, but the coincidence was too much.  Not so much that she'd throw herself in danger.  After a bit of time to soak in the potential scale of her avoided danger, Somnia nodded slowly.  The old cursed to himself in Nijonese, spitting on the floor as he summoned one of his shadow followers once again.  Whispering to the summoned one, he plucked the signet ring bearing AMETENSHI, cut by the razor wire like butter.

"Cold iron..."  Somnia whispered to herself, noticing a small smirk at the side of the old man's face.  The figure disappeared in a small cloud of smoke once again, the old man returning his attention to the girl.

"Boat leaves to Miriel.  You have two job.  One is on paper.  The other..."

Somnia leaned her head down, holding her bread as he came closer.

"Her name is Ito Hatsumi.  Do not look for her, do not find out about her family, do not search for anything about her.  Do all in power to stay away if she approach.  If she speak to you, you run away.  If you can no run away.  Kill.  Your payment will come if you follow instructions.  Your death will come if you seek to kill on purpose.  ...If you try to protect her, who knows?  Leave now.  Usual boat."

"Y-yes sir."

"I SAY CUT ACT!"

"H-HAI SHISHOU!"


Somnia wandered for some time, staring up into the sky with her hands folded behind her head.  She had the most adorable, angry expression on her face, her cheeks puffy in anger and eyebrows furrowed as angry slivers of mean eyebrows miffed beyond comparison.  EVERY TIME she went for a mission, whether it was a perfect success or not, the old man had to be a bastard.

"How are YOU, Somnia?  ARE YOU ALRIGHT SOMNIA?!  How about a WELL NOW SOMNIA IT'S GLAD TO SEE YOU IN ONE PEICE for fap's sake?!  Honestly...if I wasn't broke before I wouldn't even bother....huu...and now my legs feel heavy."

On both sides of Somnia's white shorts, banging from left to right against her caramel thighs, two tied bags of coins danced with her steps.  She was paid well for that bounty, and the bonus wasn't any small trifle, either.  After rousing herself into a much more angry fit, Somnia began to stomp the ground to her destination, rambling on about how mean the old man was to her and squeaking in a very 'frightening' rant. 

"WHAT DOES HE MEAN CUT THE CHILD ACT!  I'm not a little girl anymore!  I HIT TWENNY FOUR MONTHS AGO!  I can make big woman decisions!  I fought a dragon for fap's sake!  I HAVE A LICH ON MY RESUMAY!"  Somnia roared, shaking her fists at nothing in general.  Looking slowly to the side, she noticed a few Paladins that looked to be on a religious mission eying her suspiciously. 

"...Oh my." 

The girl was a bit closer to the quiet side as she continued walking, though she still rambled under her breath.  All of her other jobs, from the that weird Suza fellow who always tried to get her to have dinner out in a café as payment for her jobs to that insanely hyperactive Priestess that wandered around Dragon's Vale, calling for her to take down Dragoons who cursed too much while flying, all of them were nice to her when she succeeded.  NOT THAT OLD MAN!  He didn't scold her, either.  He was just mean. 

"Excuse me, young Miss."

"SILENCE!"

A crack of folding metal, the sound of crashing armor, and the gasp of a few tourists all rumbled upon Somnia's deaf, angered ears as one of the Paladins that caught her shouting tried to get in her way.  Without so much as looking away from the ground, Somnia's fist bent the armored Priestyknight's helmet into his face, then shoved both of her hands angrily into the her pockets.  What was with that guy's armor?  Did he think he was better than her?  What was with those tourists?  Did they were so good because they didn't have to treasure hunt and chase bounties for a living?  She kept walking with her hands jammed stubbornly, staring at her own feet this time.

"What's with that CANE?!  You too good to WALK WI--oh my goodness Myrnal I'm so sorry."