White and gold blocks adorned every inch of Dendalion's soil. If possible, even the trees would lose their green and brown tones, and be filled with the colors that so well defined the personality of that nation.
Everything in that small village southwest of Dendalion was extravagant. Such information would provoke the less accustomed to question the size of the glimmering city-state of the nation of gold.
Despite the possibility to speculate, it was possible to see the large buildings and the gigantic wall surrounding the city-state of Dendalion, thus confirming the reality about that country: Its real wealth was concentrated in its monarchy.
However, all its gold seemed to have no value for its own nation, material that was exported as valuable, but for the Dendalians was only good as jewelry.
Even surrounded by gold and colossal structures, the inhabitants of the adjacent villages could not hide the neglect they suffered. Dressed up as precious things, inside their homes revealed hunger, lack of hygiene, and abandonment. Animals lived better than many Dendalians in their villages. The nation of gold was the definition of hypocrisy when it came to their moral values.
Between peasants tending their crops and children helping their mothers with the cleaning, carts of gold exports crisscrossed the villages, entering and exiting the great walls of the city-state.
With a war announced, Dendalion kept up the same flow of gold exports to small nations and to Gran Tlaboc. The light of gold and the genetic avarice of Dendalian royalty blinded the eyes of those men who cared more about their social statuses than the safety of their people.
Despicable.
That was the word Sophie let out in the air as she pondered the landscape of Dendalion from inside one of the wagons she had hijacked a few hours before.
Von and Sophie had ambushed one of the transports on their way back to Dendalion. The two assassins killed three men transporting the gold, leaving the bodies dumped in a spring near the ambush scene.
Wearing Dendalian uniforms stolen from the dead men, Von and Sophie infiltrated the small village without much trouble. They greeted the inhabitants naturally, and were responded to in the same manner. With their faces and hair hidden by the golden helmets of Dendalion, their presence was friendly.
Cermina's assassins knew that they could not stay in any hotel in that village, much less break into any hovel to lodge in. Even though they were extremely skilled at infiltration and disguise, their faces could easily be recognized, especially that of Sophie, who was considered one of Dendalion's greatest threats after her attack on the embassy.
Eventually the redhead's face would appear on posters hanging on walls and posts in the village. The reward for her death was one of the largest ever recorded in Dendalion, second only to Cermina's four generals.
Sophie's red strands would have been easily recognized if they weren't hidden under the helmet she wore, and both killers knew it.
-Miss Chasseur, if you weren't so ambitious we could stay at a hostel. - BloodHound sighed as he looked at the reins of the horse he was leading. - Any ideas what we could do? -
-Let's park somewhere secluded. - Sophie, who was sitting next to Von, looked at him, who was staring back at her. - When it gets dark we can go out to look for food.-
-When you say "we", you mean ME, don't you?- Von answered Sophie, but with an amused tone in his voice.
-I'm glad you understand, dog.- Sophie lifted the visor of her helmet and held her tongue out to Von. The light atmosphere between the two assassins overlapped the tension of the mission.
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A lone black car was traveling along the road that connected Innsmouth and the Pentade Crossroad. So black that if it weren't for the moonlight, the car would be camouflaged by the road.
A man in a suit with a Cermina brooch was driving the car. In the back seat, two relevant figures sat side by side.
Krauser and Norgard were turning to Cermina as they talked about their speculations regarding the war. The two greatest enemies of Dendalion sitting side by side, talking about the destruction of the Golden Nation was not an unusual scene, but there was something different there.
An aura of anguish and distrust drenched the interior of that black car with every second that the flammable liquid combusted and drove that vehicle miles forward.
-You know, Norgard, for some time now I have been having some kind of nightmare. - Krauser looked out the car window. His tone of voice revealed a bit of cynicism.
-The iconic Vauteur Krauser having a nightmare? You've been stronger than that.- Norgard Chasseur carried a smile on his face, and looking at Krauser, waited for an answer.
-That's exactly what my dream was about, being strong. - Krauser looked down at his own hand, as if admiring a beautiful woman. - For many days I have dreamed that someone close to me discovered my greatest weaknesses and used them against me.- Particles of blood pooled in the palm of the hand Krauser admired. - And like my enemies...weaknesses must be buried. -
As fast as light, the particles of blood turned into a long dagger, and with a brief movement, the dagger was stuck in the left side of General Chasseur's chest.
Both faces showed no feeling whatsoever. No remorse, no astonishment, no sadness. A constant struggle for the posture of indifference. Not even pain had room to be shown.
The drops of blood that stained the robes of the patriarch of the Chasseur family were confused with the red of the Cermina nation.
Years of dedicated service for the nation being rewarded with a knife right in his chest. As tragic as it was comic. This was the end of every Cerminian, and perhaps this certainty was the reason for the indifference on the faces of these two men.
The car door was opened in movement, and the body of General Norgard Chasseur was kicked out, falling straight into the cliff where there was a pool of rocks over the sea.
The car door was closed. Norgard's body was falling. Krauser's hands absorbed the particles of blood that had molded the dagger.
That was the true red that represents the Arsenal Nation.
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It was already dark in the village of Dendalion. The redhead was lying in the back of the wagon. The white canvas with gold details that was used to cover the gold covered a thoughtful Sophie.
While waiting for Von to return with the food, Sophie wondered what life after the war would be like. This was her first war, and although she was confident, she wished it was her last. Even though she was created to be a fighting and killing machine, the physical and mental wear and tear made her question her real will to be everything she once wished to be.
The scars she bore on her beautiful body. The discovery of her bastard sister and the affection she never imagined she would have for a child. The feelings she discovered she possessed in the brief moments of normalcy. She would remake her life from a perspective of normality.
Normality was never part of Sophie's life.
The white canvas opened, and Von emerged with a basket of fruit and a few bottles of water. The moonlight made the dark man's silhouette mysterious.
With each day that passed next to her father's subordinate, Sophie's feelings became confused. One moment she hated him, the next she assumed her passion. She even came to consider him a sexual object. Despite the various attributions to Von, one thing was certain. Sophie thought too much about Von, it had already become an addiction.
Her post-war life was with him. That was Sophie Chasseur's wish.
In silence, Von placed the basket beside Sophie and sat down next to her.
The singing of the cicadas was the only sound at that moment. The silence of the two Cerminas assassins was not one of embarrassment, annoyance, or even lack of subject matter. They were both just comfortable with each other's presence.
Von and Sophie's exchange of glances said so much, even if no words were being spoken. Looks that showed tenderness, concern, affection and care.
Unlike the other times, it was Von who looked away.
The assassin looked at the small gap in the canvas and watched the trees blowing.
-Did something happen? - Sophie was surprised by the change in Von's countenance. He was worried.
-No, I just have a bad feeling. - An involuntary tear ran down the assassin's face.
-About the mission? - Sophie was perplexed to see that lone tear.
-No, about life.-