The Long Dream ...
In her dream, Helena sang the whaler's song over and over again, her voice as distant as a Siren's, drifting back and forth through the blue Nootropics.
It's like the sound of waves.
Wow...Wow...
Hearing the sound of the waves, Lorraine slowly opened her eyes.
He was lying in a masonry building with an unusually high zenith, a building that looked like a tower, slender and straight, except that the tower was empty, and the only thing that told him it was daytime was the light of day filtering in from the high spire.
He didn't know how many days he had been unconscious, but wanted to know more about the purpose for which the tower had been built.
All four walls are empty; did the people who built it never think about how to get to the top of the tower?
If the man was afraid of heights and didn't want to go to the top of the tower in the first place, all he had to do was build a bungalow.
This house is not too small and the pickup heights are too high ...
"How did it get built like that?" Subconsciously, his question came out of his mouth.
A sandy female voice on the side answered, "This is the Black Harbor Lighthouse. There used to be ladders on the walls, but then they rotted and killed people when they collapsed."
"That guy is unlucky." Lorraine muttered and turned her head, addressing the cat-like, coffee-colored girl, "What a coincidence, meeting again."
As always, the young girl was wrapped in the dirty smock, showing only her face and hands.
In the palm of her hand she toyed with a thin, short, sharp knife, dancing dazzlingly at one moment, then letting the tip straighten, dancing in turns on her slender fingers, a delight to watch.
Lorraine sincerely complimented, "You play well with your sword."
The young girl obviously didn't talk too much about sex, just blandly said, "Personal preference."
"Strange Hobbies ..."
Lorraine frowned and braced herself.
He saw that he was topless, his original shirt cut into thin strips of cloth around his body, white, brown, white, brown, the two colors crisscrossing like some sort of weird camouflage.
"Did you fish me out?"
"Not really."
The young girl snapped her fingers and picked the short blade up into the air and watched as it came down, duh, plunging between the two men, half the blade into the ground.
"Doesn't count?"
"I went looking for food, saw you on the beach, and carried you up."
"A couple days ago?"
"Two days."
"Did you do that?"
The young girl nodded, "When I found you, you had this knife sticking out of your back, a masterful blade that looked like it stabbed into your heart but didn't even hit a blood vessel."
"Knife skills were his only skill ... " Lorraine gave a bitter laugh, "When I was on the ship, he shared three cuts of bacon with me at each meal, always peeling it with the grain, neat and thin, like a piece of paper, and being particularly stingy. "
"Him?"
"My captain, a Plymouth tanner ... of the best kind."
"Why did the tanner become your captain?"
"Because of a stupid decision." Lorraine moved painfully and leaned against the wall, "Really, even for the sake of his son, he should have sold the ship and done his job as a tanner properly. He simply does not understand that the sea ... is cannibalistic."
He stood up against the wall, his back grinding against the rough brick, leaving a long, fresh blood trail.
The young girl frowned at him, "What are you doing?"
Lorraine smiled sagely, "Even the stupidest captain is a captain, and as a competent seaman, I'm going to save him."
"Where to save?"
"Mr. Pitt of Blackport owns a restaurant called Grassy Foie Gras. Because he was lucky enough to pay off his debts, the restaurant should, in theory, be out of business before it's too late."
The young girl thought for a moment, "It didn't go out of business. Their foie gras was awful, but the lettuce was good the last couple days."
"I'm honored to be complimented on my rescue." Lorraine waved her hand in a gentleman's salute, propped herself against the wall, and walked toward the door.
The young girl asked again, "What if your captain dies?"
Lorraine's footsteps paused for a moment, and she said softly, "I am a child of Niord, and a debt of blood, naturally, must be paid in blood."
The teenage girl㤞splained, "You're white and you're not a believer in God?"
"Vikings don't need God's blessing, we only worship our ancestors and are proud pagans."
Dropping the words, Lorraine slowly moved to where the door was and reached out, reaching for the handle.
A stream of light flew over and grazed his face, impaling the door with a duh.
The young girl said behind her back, "I think you might want to hire a helper."
Lorraine raised an eyebrow and turned back to look at the coffee girl with interest, "You know what? I'm a little more demanding of helpers."
Without speaking, the young girl ripped off her cowl with a clatter, revealing a peculiar outfit.
Her attire was somewhat of a latter-day jumpsuit, tight at the top to accentuate her tall, slender curves, and loose at the bottom, wrapping around her bindings just below the knee to show off her tight, beautifully shaped calves.
The entire outfit is pure white, linen fabric, old but clean.
Tiny, continuous rows of buttons centered on the front chest divided the garment in two, with a total of eight small pockets sewn symmetrically on each side, each in turn covered with a large button of wrapped cloth over the pocket opening.
But it's not exactly symmetrical.
The long sleeve of her left hand was fastened to her wrist, while her right hand was sleeveless, revealing the young girl's coffee-colored arm and the simple tattoo on her large arm that resembled both a mountain peak and a dagger.
"I think I've seen this tattoo somewhere ..."
"To introduce myself, my name is Haina . Yisra, Egyptian, and Assassin."
...
The Assassins, a mysterious sect originating in ancient Persia, whose leader is known as the Old Man of the Mountain, were once an assassin organization that everyone in the Western world talked about.
But that's not Hina's Assassin faction.
The true Assassinites perished in the Mongols' western expedition, when the last Old Man of the Mountain opened his city and surrendered, and the Eagle's Nest was massacred.
The survivors of Assassin have been in exile ever since.
They operated around West Asia and North Africa, turning more and more into pure and sporadic assassins by the day, teaching their skills in a father-son model, and no longer refusing employment in the Catholic world.
Haina's father was an Asasin, and she and her brother accepted the legacy, and together the family formed a small league of assassins.
Three years ago, they were hired by a Frenchman to assassinate a competitor in his clan, and after the deed was done, their employer chose to cross the river in order to clear his suspicions.
Haina's father died in a forceful battle, and Haina, who was fourteen at the time, fled into Black Harbor with her thirteen-year-old brother to escape the hunt.
Her brother, however, was severely injured during his escape and only lasted a few months before he too died.
Haina has since become a wanderer in Black Harbor, and with her superior skill, she soon establishes herself in this lawless land.
Her profession keeps her from hating Catholics too much, but the experience of being betrayed, and the past of her family's destruction prevents her from trusting Catholics any more, especially the French who are scattered all over Black Harbor.
So she kept to herself, accepting the occasional hire to kill some people, and her employer would never be a believer in God.
It's a quirk of her customer selection, and as it happens, Lorraine fits those strange requirements ...
After listening to her confession, Lorraine leaned against the door and smiled bitterly.
"Miss Haina, I recognize your ability, it's just ... that I'm not a qualified employer, because on my part, I don't have any money."
"I want that knife."
"A knife?" Lorraine glanced at the knife in her ear, "Is a scalping knife that hasn't killed anyone all that's needed to hire Assassin to fight for his life now?"
"It's a very nice knife." Hina shook her head, "And the knife is the final payment, I've already taken your first payment."
"Black bread?"
"The bread is delicious with cod ..."