89: Princess Assassin (Part Two) (Patreon)

Vir gazed out from the shadows. Many exits presented themselves, all peeking into a world frozen in time. For ten seconds, Vir was untouchable. Ten seconds may not have been much, but in the heat of battle, it was everything.

Nestled within the Shadow Realm, he saw Mina’s bodyguard, her face blank, having yet to realize Vir’s disappearance.

Should I strike from behind?

Appearing within her shadow would be trivial for Vir; she was both taller and broader shouldered than he was. He could easily slip up from behind her.

Except he had no weapons. The woman had disarmed him. His most lethal strike was now an Empowered punch or kick, but that would do little against an armored opponent.

She’ll probably slip away from me, anyway.

And then Vir would be a goner. He could feel it. There was no more Ash prana left. Not enough for another invocation of Dance of the Shadow Demon.

No, he’d have to play this one smarter. Not every battle could be won. Riyan had always said that good warriors picked theirs.

Vir looked to the edge of Dance’s range. He’d planned for this eventuality, and so he’d run toward the castle, hoping to escape inside its walls. But even he hadn’t had the time to peek inside the castle with Prana Vision.

Badrak’s luck was with him tonight. There, at the very edge of Dance’s range, lay a shadow large enough for Vir to exit from. Prana Vision told him it was empty. A storeroom, as best he could tell.

He took it, popping up in the cramped, dusty room full of brooms, crates, and sacks.

Vir ripped off his mask, shoving it into his rucksack and retrieved the emerald-and-green robes San had provided.

While his mask’s makeup painted a bland visage, the makeup Vir wore on his face was different. Refined. Elegant. But not overdone.

As would befit a royal court servant. And the robes San had given him? A royal servant outfit.

Vir donned the luxurious robe of his clothing and armor. His small frame helped here—despite the added bulk of his bracers and greaves, he still looked the part.

He then set his blonde wig in place, and waited another minute for his opening. Alarm bells clanged. The castle was a flurry of activity, and the hallway adjoining the storeroom was no exception.

Vir grabbed a broom and opened the door, feigning surprise at the ruckus.

“Get outta the way! Can’t you see we have an emergency?” A knight in full plate shouted, brushing past him with his company in tow.

“My apologies, lord knights,” Vir said, bowing deeply, adopting the Dahan Sawai accent. “I shall make myself scarce at once!”

The knights rushed on, leaving Vir alone.

Until Mina’s bodyguard appeared.

Of all the… how did she possibly end up here!?

Vir bowed as she ran up to him.

“You! Have you seen him?”

“I beg your pardon, lady knight?”

“The perpetrator! Have you seen him?”

“I’m afraid not, milady, but just now, a company of knights headed off in that direction,” Vir said, pointing down the hall. “If you hurry, you may yet catch him!”

Mina’s bodyguard nodded, then tore off down the hall.

Vir did his best to suppress a smirk. Deception truly is the mother of all weapons, isn’t it?

Having memorized the layout of the castle palace, Vir quickly found his bearings. He was in the outermost southern hallway, on the first floor. Heading east would put him at the castle garden, where he could then make for the temple. The tall holy building sat on its own, some distance away from the castle.

Vir proceeded unimpeded. Riyan had once said that he’d be able to walk into King Rayid’s palace, steal from him, and be invited back again the next day.

He wasn’t quite there yet, but he was walking around King Rayid’s palace as if he belonged there. Not a single guard or knight accosted him.

It wasn’t his fear of being caught that worried him the most. The plan was in shambles, with Mina nowhere in sight. He’d fulfilled his obligation to Riyan by causing a ruckus… But it wasn’t enough.

The royal priest had to die. And now, as he stood at the edge of the castle garden with only the deployable knives in his boots, he had to figure out how he was going to pull that off.

A quick glance back at where he’d fought Mina’s bodyguard told him there was no chance of retrieving his weapons. Knights swarmed around where he’d last been sighted. His weapons still lay there—were they baiting him?

He wasn’t going to bite. It’d be suicide to confront those knights. Even if they were individually weaker than Mina’s bodyguard, there were five of them. They were armed. He was not.

Vir abandoned the idea. He’d have to rely on his Kalari training for this one. Kalari… and the needle he carried with him. The one he’d used to assassinate Ravin.

“Oy! You! What are you doing out here?” A knight said, approaching Vir as he crossed the royal garden. “No one’s to be out at this hour! There’s an emergency!”

Vir altered his body language to one of meek under-confidence and shifted his voice to a higher pitch. “Lord knight, I mean no disrespect, b-but I’m well aware. That… that brigand! He broke my arm, ser!”

“You saw him? Where!?”

“South side outer hallway, milord. Th-they said to seek healing from the priests! The royal healers have all been deployed.”

“I see… Very well, carry on,” the knight said before hurrying off to the palace.

“Thank you, milord. Thank you!” Vir said after him.

Despite the tension, despite losing his weapons, despite the lack of Ash ground prana… Vir felt like a god. Untouchable.

But even gods could die; he didn’t let it get to his head.

Vir stood at the base of the temple Shikara—a tall, narrow pagoda-like structure that stretched vertically for ten floors.

Of course, the head priest’s quarters occupied the highest floor. The simplest option was to proceed into the temple, working his way up. Except, from San’s map, Vir knew the temple layout. There was just one hallway that spiraled around, which went all the way up.

And he was sure there’d be guards posted at the head priest’s door. With the ruckus he’d kicked up, there would likely be more in the halls as well.

The other option was what he’d planned in the first place—to scale the Shikara wall, ten floors up. The ornate carvings provided ample footholds, and the priest’s room had a large window he could slip through.

No guards, but the temple lay close to Daha’s northern walls. Walls that were patrolled. If anyone saw him, he’d be vulnerable to magic and arrow fire.

Which just means I can’t get caught, Vir thought as he stripped off his emerald-and-gold cloak, along with his shiny bracers and greaves, leaving him in his black cloak. Anything that would reflect starlight was a no-go.

Vir circled around to the backside of the temple, stowing his pack at the base of the Shikara. He kicked off his boots and slung them around his neck.

Then he climbed.

As he’d suspected, the ascent was not a difficult one. Dozens of carvings, ledges, and small domes gave him plenty of handholds. If he wasn’t so cautious about the guards patrolling the walls, he’d have gone faster.

As it was, he eyed the dozen guards atop the ramparts, pulling himself up when no one looked.

The first two floors were the trickiest. Humans tended to either look at the ground or keep their eyesight leveled with the horizon. Rarely did they ever look up.

The issue was that human peripheral vision was very good at picking up movement at its edges. A sudden movement might be all it took for a guard to look up.

So Vir proceeded cautiously. Slowly. Agonizingly.

Fifteen minutes passed before he made it to the fourth floor. From there, he allowed himself to move faster, scaling the next three floors in ten minutes.

Before he knew it, he was perched at the window of the room on the highest floor.

From here, he saw everything. The castle grounds, far below. The District of Internal Affairs. The Commons. All glowing bright amber with magical light. And in the distance, Daha’s great walls, keeping the desert at bay. Above it all, the unlit Vimana hung like a dark crown, decorating the city with its rich splendor.

Vir paused. As he gazed at the scenery, he wondered. Wondered whether this was right. Whether he ought to be here, chasing down the royal priest instead of Mina. Who was the greater evil?

As much as he wanted to say the priest, he couldn’t. Mina was the one who’d put him into power. She was the real master behind the operation. Vir tried to justify his actions. Tried to convince himself he wasn’t here out of a personal vendetta.

He failed. He was.

The fact remained that the prana signature in the room beyond had caused the deaths of those Vir had held so dear. Maybe Mina would replace this man with another. But at least head priest Harak would cause no more innocents to die.

Vir climbed onto the window’s ledge, laced up his boots, then swung the window open and silently entered.

The wrinkled priest was not asleep. He sat at a circular table, gazing out through a window on the other side of the room. The old, skinny man looked half dead.

Vir snuck up behind him—the man remained blissfully unaware. An Empowered twist of his head would break the man’s neck. He’d die, right then and there.

Vir knew he should kill the man and be gone. He knew it was the height of foolishness to do anything otherwise.

And yet…

“Hello, Harak,” Vir said from behind, his cold steel needle pressed against the priest’s neck. “If you scream, you die. If you call for help, you die. If you make any sudden movement, you die. Understand? Nod slowly if you do.” He had no idea how his voice was so calm. Cold.

The priest nodded.

“You don’t know me, but I know you. I want some answers, and you will provide them.”

“W-will you let me live if I do?” Harak whispered.

Vir paused for a split second. “It depends. Now answer. Why do you hunt Ashborn?”

“A-Ashborn! They are a blight! A menace!” Harak hissed. “Demons by another name.”

“You fear them,” Vir whispered. “Why?”

“I am a pious man. The scriptures speak of demons ravaging our lands. This, you well know. But did you know? The ancient scriptures, the ones from just after the fall of the Gods. They tell us more. They speak of demon armies… led by Ashborn. They tell the story of the end of realms. Of demons so strong, no human could possibly stand against them. Demons… led by a being capable of bringing about the apocalypse.”

The priest slowly turned his neck. “Do you see now, child? Do you understand why I do what I do?”

Vir had no idea about any of this. Why would the scriptures say that about him? Yes, he had some powers he couldn’t understand. Janak himself had said he was different. But realm ending powers!? It was so farfetched. It had to be a lie. Besides, Janak was a god, and he hadn’t wanted Vir dead. Even if the scriptures came from the gods, words spoken from Janak’s own mouth carried far more weight.

No, this priest was spinning lies to deceive him.

“Tell me, head priest. Is your cause worth the lives of innocents?”

“What do you mean?”

“Brij village. You ordered a knight corps there. They murdered the village priest and his wife. They… butchered an innocent lumberjack.  How do you plead to these crimes?”

“Brij? Brij… The Ashborn! You! You’re the Ashborn! Come to seek revenge!”

“Three lives ended that day,” Vir replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Three noble, innocent people who never deserved death. All because of you.”

Harak froze in his chair as the needle pressed harder against his skin.

“Have you heard of karma, Harak? Well, consider this karmic justice.”

Just then, hard knocking rapped upon the door to Harak's residence.

“Your Eminence? We've just been informed of an attempted assassination on Princess Mina. Checking in to ensure all is well. May we enter?“

“Tell them you're fine. Tell them not to enter,“ Vir whispered.

“All is well,“ Harak replied. “No worse than an Acira in the Voidlands.“

There was silence for a moment before the guard replied. “In the Voidlands, your Eminence? Understood.“

Once again, there was silence, but Vir didn't fail to notice the sound of a key being inserted into the keyhole. Or the slow turning of the door lever.

“Nice try, Harak.“

“What do you—!?“

It was all he managed before the needle mercilessly into his neck.

Royal Priest Harak would torment Hiranya no longer.