Two pairs of eyes belonging to the men in the room turned to Cassandra, their gazes fixated on her as she sipped from her cup calmly after uttering such strange and unsettling things. The atmosphere shifted, thickening with tension as her words hung in the air like an ominous cloud. On the other hand, Milo's face was filled with a mix of nerve and fear, his brow furrowed deeply as he struggled to process the implications of what she had just said. He fidgeted in his seat, glancing nervously from Cassandra to the elderly man.
"I apologise, My Lady." The elderly man looked at her confused while still smiling, a mask that concealed any thoughts or feelings. The silence in the room was palpable, broken only by the faint sound of Cassandra's cup being set down on the table.
"Your mask is pretty impressive; I take it that Melissa made it for you." She had stated, her voice steady yet laced with a hint of challenge. The elderly man's face had twitched slightly at her words, a flicker of annoyance or perhaps even fear dancing across his features before he could mask it. The air in the room grew thick with tension, so palpable that Milo, who was seated across from Cassandra, looked as though he couldn't breathe due to it. His eyes darted nervously between the two, as if he were a spectator in a dangerous game. "Since we know it's a mask, why don't you remove it? Ay, Vice-head of Blades?" At that moment, Milo, unable to handle the weight of the revelation, fell out of his chair with a loud crash.
It made perfect sense, though, as everyone within the Empire knew about the Guild Blades, one of the most feared and powerful Assassin Guilds in existence. Their reputation was notorious, and even Cassandra's father, the Emperor himself, was acutely aware of their influence and capacity for chaos. However, the guild functioned like a hydra; sever one head, and two more would sprout in its place. This meant that even if he managed to hunt down all the known bases, without dismantling the core of their 'immoral' operations, the guild would persist, ever resilient and evolving. It was this very guild that Count Daniel Richfield would exploit to eliminate the Hillington family, further entrenching the sinister web of assassination and deceit that enveloped the Empire. The stakes were higher than anyone could imagine, and Cassandra knew that confronting this power would change everything.
That was if she didn't know the core of the guild's power, the man who was standing before them. There was a reason that Baxter had been kept around despite not having any notable skills as an assassin. Before he joined, the guild had been mediocre at best; over half the time, they failed their missions and ended up dead. However, after Baxter's arrival, things changed dramatically. He gathered skilled operatives, compiled crucial information, and strategically transformed the guild into a formidable force. He became its very core, the unshakable foundation upon which everything else rested.
But why was the core of the guild only the vice-head? That answer was very simple: he had all but one weakness.
"How is your daughter doing?" This was his Achilles' heel, his daughter. The moment Cassandra asked this seemingly innocent question, she could see the elderly man's face shift into that of someone ready to kill. His eyes darkened, and a flicker of rage sparked within them. It was a potent reminder that even the most powerful figures harbor vulnerabilities, and Baxter's loyalty to his daughter was both his greatest strength and his most dangerous flaw. In that instant, the atmosphere thickened with tension, as if the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for the storm to break.
Who the hell are you?" He was no longer acting, and his façade was starting to crumble, revealing the raw, unfiltered essence of his true self. "You aren't just some normal noble brat." His observation was spot on; there was no way a mere child could possess such knowledge or display behavior that hinted at deeper truths.
"Someone here to help." As she uttered these words, his expression shifted to one of alarm, and a palpable aura of danger radiated from him, almost murderous in intent. Yet, Cassandra remained unfazed; she understood better than to react impulsively. Any sign of fear or hesitation could jeopardize the intricate plan she had painstakingly crafted. "I take it you can't figure out who we are, which is not possible for you, right?" She smirked, fully aware of the reasons behind his confusion. In her case there were five primary reasons for this situation.
First, her body had lain dormant for centuries, ensnared in a timeless slumber due to the ancient ritual her mother, the Empress, performed—one that had inexplicably switched her soul with another.
Second, since her awakening, Cassandra had only ventured into the public sphere once, and even then, it was not in the usual sense; she had appeared before a gathering of nobles at a party which she there had her first Awakening prompting her disappearance for an entire month.
Third, the most overt indicator of her status as Imperial Royalty—her striking silver hair and golden eyes—were cleverly concealed by a powerful magical artefact, rendering her nearly unrecognisable.
Fourth, the few servants who attended to her directly were bound by magic contracts that prohibited them from divulging anything about her past or true identity. Importantly, these contracts were not a matter of coercion; her servants had been given the choice to accept or decline these terms.
And finally, there was an impenetrable magic barrier enveloping the palace, designed to thwart any unauthorised individuals from entering. This barrier had become even more formidable after a recent incident, making it exceedingly difficult for outsiders to gain access. All of these layers of secrecy and protection were necessary to ensure her safety.
However, Milo was a completely different matter entirely. "The good doctor here is the one you've been searching for," Cassandra declared firmly, her voice slicing through the tension in the dimly lit room. She pointed towards the panicking Milo, who appeared even more terrified than before upon realizing that the vice-head of an assassin guild had been actively pursuing him. The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, thickening the atmosphere with dread.
"And tell me, why should I trust you?" the elderly masked man questioned, a chilling coldness lacing his voice. His steely gaze fixed on Cassandra, revealing a mind honed in deception and strategy. She wasn't particularly surprised that he would cast suspicion her way; after all, he was a master of intel, renowned for his ability to sift through layers of lies to uncover the truth. Yet, despite his prowess, the critical information he had been desperately searching for had remained elusive. Then, out of nowhere, this young noble child appeared, accompanied by a man rumoured to be the very person he had been hunting—a detail only known to a select handful within the guild.
"It's pretty simple." As she spoke, Cassandra had reached for the golden ring that adorned her index finger and began to remove it with a delicate motion. The moment the ring was pulled off, an unsettling silence filled the room, and both men looked at her in horror, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe.
"We greet the Shimmering Star of our great Empire." They were now kneeling before the girl, whose jet black hair had begun to fade away, gracefully transforming back to its glorious silver locks that shimmered like moonlight. As her hair changed, an ethereal glow enveloped her, casting a warm light that seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. Meanwhile, her eyes, once yellow, revealed their true nature as they regained the striking golden hue, glinting with a celestial brilliance the moment they were opened
"I hope this answers all your questions and concerns, given that you know who I am." The princess spoke in a calm manner, her voice steady and composed, definitely not fitting for a child her age. It caused the two men to exchange uneasy glances, wondering if her unusual demeanor was a direct result of her true nature as a dragon. Despite their curiosity, neither of them had the nerve to voice their thoughts. "As someone who possesses a wealth of information about the Empire, you should already understand how it is that I know everything, correct?"
"Yes, the ability of foresight from House Winter." He answered her, his voice trembling slightly, as if she had granted him permission to speak his mind.
"Good." A sense of satisfaction washed over her at his response, confirming her understanding of the situation. "Now, I will repeat myself. Remove the mask." Instead of merely asking him to take off the mask, she had come to order it with an authority that belied her age.
Unable to refuse her order, his hand had instinctively reached up to his face, and as if it were made of fragile paper, it crunched up when he grasped it. The texture was strange and unsettling under his fingers. With a sudden, wrenching motion, he pulled his hand away along with the layer, ripping it off as if it were merely an extra piece of skin that had somehow grown out of place. In that moment he reached for the simple silver ring that had been resting comfortably around his thumb, removing it
Stand." Upon issuing this command, both individuals rose from their kneeling positions, and as Cassandra shifted her gaze back to the elderly man, she was struck by the revelation of his true form.
Before her stood a man with pale skin, his features sharp and striking. His short, bright green hair was meticulously combed back, save for one rebellious lock that fell gracefully over the center of his forehead. His eyes, a slightly darker shade of yellow, seemed to hold a wealth of secrets and untold stories. Below his lower lip, there was a small black dot, a distinctive mark that drew her attention and added to his enigmatic presence. This was the true appearance of Baxter Ruggles. Though he appeared younger then in her dreams, he still looked the same.