The rhythmic clatter of horse hooves echoed on the stone-paved road. The grand, black-coated carriage bore the emblem of the Britalienne Empire, drawing the attention of villagers as it rolled through the quiet settlement. Villagers stopped their work to watch, their faces a mix of curiosity and caution. Children ran alongside the carriage, their eyes wide with wonder.
Inside the carriage, Freya's wolf-like ears twitched as she peeked out the window. Her amber eyes scanned the surroundings with sharp precision. "This place looks… bleak," she muttered, watching the villagers haul water from a shallow well. "The soil's dry, the roads are rough, and the air stinks of decay." Her nose wrinkled. "Is this really the land the Empress gifted you, Vergil?"
Vergil sat across from her, his sky-blue eyes calm but calculating. His arms were crossed, his gaze distant, lost in thought. Clad in his black cloak, he looked every bit like a shadow given human form.
"Yes, Avalorne," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "A forgotten land, left to rot by neglect. The Empress has entrusted me with it, and I intend to make it something greater."
Freya raised an eyebrow. "I thought the Empress was rewarding you, not punishing you." She gave him a teasing grin, her tail flicking behind her.
"Don't be mistaken, Freya," Vergil replied, his eyes narrowing as he glanced out the window. "This isn't punishment. It's an opportunity." His gaze locked onto the distant mansion atop a hill overlooking the land. "A blank canvas. One I will turn into a masterpiece."
The carriage stopped in front of a crumbling stone archway that marked the entrance to the Avalorne estate. Weeds and ivy wrapped around its structure like chains. Beyond the arch, a stone path led to a grand but weathered mansion, its once-pristine walls dulled by years of rain, wind, and neglect. Broken windows reflected the fading sunlight like fractured mirrors.
"Looks like no one's lived here for years," Freya said as she stepped down from the carriage, her boots crunching on the gravel path. She glanced at the broken windows, her wolf ears twitching with irritation. "Home sweet home, huh?"
"Home is not given. It is made," Vergil replied as he stepped down beside her, his eyes scanning the mansion's facade, analyzing every weakness and strength. "This place has potential."
They entered the mansion, the door creaking loudly on its rusty hinges. Dust filled the air as light beamed through the cracks in the wooden shutters. Old furniture lay covered in white cloths. The scent of damp wood and decay hung in the air. Vergil walked further in, brushing his fingers along a dusty table.
"It's sturdy," he muttered, tapping one of the support beams. "The foundation is intact. This will do."
Freya followed behind, her eyes darting around the mansion's interior. "Are you seriously planning to live here?" She glanced at him, her brow raised in doubt. "You're a lord now, Vergil. Shouldn't you demand better?"
Vergil chuckled softly, a rare sound from him. "You think power comes from luxury? No, Freya. Power comes from control — control of oneself, control of one's surroundings, and control of others." He turned toward her, his gaze sharp as ever. "This mansion will serve as the command center of Avalorne. We will turn it from a rotting shell into a place of prosperity and fortress of shadows."
The next day, Vergil and Freya left the mansion on foot, walking toward the nearest village. Unlike the villages closer to Châteauclair, Avalorne's settlements were humble and meager. Crops grew in patches of dry soil. Many villagers wore faded, threadbare clothes. A blacksmith's forge sputtered weakly, and the livestock pens held only a handful of thin, underfed animals.
Freya's eyes darted left and right. "I can see it already," she muttered, shaking her head. "The harvest is weak, the wells are shallow, and most of these people look like they haven't had a proper meal in days."
Vergil didn't respond immediately. His eyes scanned everything — the villagers' posture, their clothing, their expressions. Every detail was a clue. The children had hollow cheeks and thin arms. The farmers' hands were rough with calluses, but their movements were sluggish, like men running on empty stomachs.
"They're starving," Vergil said at last, his eyes narrowing. "Food shortages. Poor soil. Likely no support from the nobles in Châteauclair." He knelt near the edge of a crop field, scooping up a handful of dry soil and rubbing it between his fingers. "The soil here is leached of its nutrients. It's been overworked for too long without proper care. No wonder the crops are dying."
"So, what do we do?" Freya asked, crouching beside him. Her eyes glanced between him and the soil. "You can't grow food on dead land."
"No," Vergil replied, his eyes sharp with resolve. "But you can revive it." He stood, wiping the dirt from his hands. "The people of Avalorne need more than food. They need hope. And I'm going to give it to them."
Freya tilted her head. "How?"
"By creating something no one expects." He glanced at the nearby forest beyond the village. "An adventurer's haven. A city where travelers, merchants, and adventurers all come to spend their coin."
That night, in the dimly lit study of the mansion, Vergil unrolled a large map of Avalorne on the table. Freya leaned over his shoulder, her eyes scanning the parchment. The map showed the village locations, forests, water sources, and roads leading in and out of Avalorne.
"This is where we start," Vergil tapped a spot near the center of the region. "A central market town. It will act as a trading hub for adventurers, merchants, and villagers alike. We'll build lodging, shops, and most importantly — a guild for adventurers."
Freya's ears twitched. "A guild? You think adventurers will come all the way out here?"
"They will," Vergil said with certainty. "Because I'll give them something Châteauclair can't. I'll offer contracts they won't get from the nobles or the Adventurer's Guild." He traced a path with his finger, connecting roads from Châteauclair to Avalorne. "We'll build a direct route to the capital. Make it safe. Merchants will come. Where there are merchants, there is coin. And where there is coin, there are adventurers."
Freya grinned, her sharp canines flashing. "You're planning to turn Avalorne into a haven for mercenaries and misfits." She chuckled. "I like it."
Vergil add more. "We also build some irrigation, as the map mark on forest there is a river. we can build some irrigation for farmer and i will formulated some medicine for the land. The medicine is more like made the land more fertile and ready for planted with anything.
Vergil gazed down at the plans, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts wandered back to his conversation with Empress Eliza.
"A Lord must be more than a figurehead," she had told him. "You will not only rule this land, Vergil, but you will also watch over it from the shadows. Avalorne is yours — shape it as you see fit. But remember, you now walk two paths — as a lord of the empire and as the commander of my unseen hand."
Her words lingered in his mind like echoes. His eyes flickered with resolve as he stared at the map.
"Avalorne will become a land of shadows," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "A place where power is cultivated, unseen but always present."
Freya leaned in, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Shadows, huh? Sounds like you're planning more than just a town."
Vergil glanced at her, his sky-blue eyes sharp as ever. "You're right," he said, his voice like the edge of a blade. "I'll turn Avalorne into a sanctuary for the unseen — assassins, spies, informants, and agents who will answer only to me."
Freya's grin grew wide, her tail swaying with excitement. "The Brotherhood of Shadows..." she muttered. "I like the sound of that."
In the noon, Vergil and Freya decide to traveling into forest. The sun filtered through the dense canopy of the forest, casting dancing patches of light onto the mossy ground. The chirping of birds and the distant rustle of small animals filled the air. Vergil walked ahead, his steps silent despite the underbrush. Freya followed closely, her sharp senses on high alert.
"The map was right," Vergil said as he crouched beside a rushing river. The water sparkled under the sunlight, its gentle current carrying fallen leaves downstream. "This river could be the lifeblood of Avalorne." He dipped his fingers into the cool water, watching it ripple around his hand.
Freya knelt beside him, her eyes scanning the riverbank. "The flow's steady. No signs of drought." Her wolf-like ears twitched as she listened carefully. "And I hear fish swimming downstream. This river could supply both food and water."
Vergil's eyes narrowed in thought. "More than that." He stood, his gaze following the river's path through the forest. "If we can build as creek and redirect the flow, we can create irrigation channels for the crops. The dry soil in the village could become fertile again."
Freya raised an eyebrow. "And that's only the beginning, huh?"
"Exactly," Vergil replied. "Water is life. With a stable water source, we can build wells, bathhouses, mills, and even a forge that requires water-cooling. This river isn't just a resource. It's an vital thing."
Freya nodded, a grin tugging at her lips. "I'm starting to see the bigger picture." Her tail swayed behind her. "A fortress of shadows… with running water."
Vergil smirked, his sky-blue eyes glinting with determination. "A kingdom grows from its foundation, Freya. And this river will be one of ours."
After surveying the river's course, Vergil and Freya made their way back to the edge of the forest. Their sharp eyes spotted a group of workers nearby — woodcutters and lumberjacks chopping down trees for timber. The rhythmic thuds of axes biting into bark echoed through the clearing.
Vergil's eyes locked onto the foreman, a burly man with a thick beard and sunburned skin. His muscles flexed as he swung his axe with precision. When the man noticed them approaching, he straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, but his grip on the axe remained firm.
"Can I help you, strangers?" the foreman asked, his voice gruff but steady. The other workers glanced over, their eyes darting between Vergil and Freya.
Vergil stepped forward, his presence sharp as a blade. His black cloak shifted lightly with the breeze, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the man.
"You're looking at the new lord of Avalorne," Vergil declared calmly, his voice as steady as stone. "And I have work for you."
The foreman raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "Lord, huh? Doesn't look like you brought soldiers to back that claim." He grinned, clearly testing Vergil's patience. "What's stopping me from laughing you off this land?"
"This," Vergil replied, pulling a heavy pouch from his cloak and tossing it to the foreman. The man caught it with both hands, and his eyes widened at the weight. He opened it cautiously, revealing a small pile of silver coins inside. The air grew tense as the workers behind him muttered to each other.
"That's payment in advance," Vergil said, his eyes sharp as daggers. "Double that amount when the work is done."
The foreman's grin vanished, replaced by a look of respect. He tied the pouch to his belt, his eyes now focused entirely on Vergil. "Alright, Lord," he said, leaning on his axe. "What do you need?
Vergil crouched on the ground, drawing rough diagrams in the dirt. The foreman and his workers gathered around, watching closely.
"Here," Vergil said, pointing to the mark on the map that represented the village. "We'll create a channel from the river to run through this area. The land is dry, but with water flowing through it, the soil will regain its fertility. The villagers can farm again."
The foreman rubbed his beard, nodding slowly. "A lot of digging, but not impossible."
"Not just irrigation," Vergil continued, drawing another line that split into smaller streams. "We'll direct the flow toward a small basin here. Turn it into a central well for the village."
Freya tapped on another part of the map. "And here," she added, pointing near the site where the mansion stood. "If we build a mill, you can use the water to drive machinery. It'll boost productivity."
"Smart," the foreman admitted, his eyes scanning the plans. "But that'll take time and labor. Not something we can do overnight."
"That's why I'm paying you in silver," Vergil replied, his tone cold and precise. "We don't need it all done overnight, but I expect you to make progress every day."
The foreman glanced at the silver pouch on his belt and grinned. "Fair enough, Lord Vergil. You pay me like this, and my men will work until their arms fall off."
That night, Vergil and Freya stood on the balcony of the Avalorne mansion, gazing out at the flickering lights of the village below. Small fires burned in the distance as the woodcutters set up camp near the edge of the forest. The workers would begin clearing paths, marking the points where water channels would be dug, and preparing timber for construction.
Freya leaned on the balcony, her eyes thoughtful. "You've been busy," she remarked, glancing at Vergil. "Buying workers, making plans, building towns. I thought you were just an assassin, but this?" She gestured toward the village below. "This is something else."
"Assassination and leadership aren't so different," Vergil replied, his eyes fixed on the lights of the village. "Both require strategy, precision, and patience. To build something from the shadows, you must know every piece and element on the board."
Freya tilted her head, her ears twitching as she considered his words. "Is that how you see this? A board game?"
"Not a game," Vergil corrected, his eyes narrowing. "Assassin life to kill yes, but as Lord we are people servant, we work with them and protect them. Their pain is ours pain, their struggle is also our. Any advancement they made we will protect it even smallest idea it can be big someday."
Freya gazed at him for a moment before a grin tugged at her lips. "A prosper for people, huh? Then I guess I'm your soldier."
"No," Vergil replied, turning to her. "You're my right hand. And from now on, we don't just fight for ourselves." He gazed toward the dark horizon, his sky-blue eyes sharp with resolve. "We fight for Avalorne and Britalienne Empire."
The setting sun cast a warm, golden glow through the tall arched windows of the Avalorne mansion. Dust particles floated in the beams of light, giving the place an ethereal atmosphere. The mansion was eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft creaks of wooden floors beneath Vergil and Freya's footsteps.
Vergil moved ahead, his eyes scanning every wall, every corridor, every turn. His movements were deliberate, each step precise and controlled, as if he were stalking prey. Freya followed behind him, her ears twitching as she took in the sounds of the old mansion.
"This place is bigger than I expected," Freya remarked, glancing down a hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly. "I thought it was just a fancy house, but it's practically a fortress."
"More than a fortress," Vergil replied, his gaze sharp as ever. "This will be our stronghold."
They moved deeper into the mansion, opening doors and peering inside each room. The first floor had an expansive dining hall, a kitchen, and several rooms that could be converted into storage areas or living quarters. On the second floor, they found bedrooms, study rooms, and even a lounge with faded sofas.
"This place was built for nobility," Freya commented as she brushed her fingers along an ornate bookshelf filled with old, dusty tomes. Her wolf-like ears twitched in curiosity. "Whoever lived here before must have been rich."
"No doubt," Vergil muttered, his fingers trailing along the smooth, polished banister of the grand staircase. "But wealth without power is fleeting. They left, and now this place belongs to us."
Freya grinned, her sharp canines flashing. "Yeah, and I like the sound of that."
Their exploration eventually led them to the ground floor, where they stumbled upon a door hidden behind an old tapestry. It was a thick wooden door reinforced with iron bands. Vergil pulled it open with ease, revealing a stone stairwell spiraling downward into darkness.
Freya sniffed the air, her senses heightened. "Smells dry. No rot or dampness. This place might have been sealed for a while."
"Good," Vergil replied, his tone neutral but his eyes gleaming with interest. "Let's see what's down there."
They descended the steps in silence. The cool air grew heavier the deeper they went, and the dim light from the surface gradually disappeared. But darkness was no obstacle for Vergil, whose eyes had long since adapted to seeing in dim lighting.
At the bottom of the staircase, they found an enormous underground chamber. The smooth stone walls were reinforced with thick pillars, and torches hung in iron sconces, though most had long since burned out. The chamber stretched farther than the underground room of the clinic in Châteauclair, nearly triple its size.
Freya's eyes widened as she gazed around. "This… this is incredible. It's like an underground fortress." Her gaze flickered to the walls. "Soundproof too. I don't hear any echoes."
Vergil knelt, running his hand over the stone floor, his mind already formulating plans. "This is it," he declared. "This is where the true Avalorne begins."
Vergil and Freya worked late into the night, organizing the underground space. Vergil's mind worked like a machine, calculating how to use every inch of the room to its fullest potential. He began sketching designs on parchment, marking areas where walls, compartments, and equipment would be placed.
On the Armory section, Vergil designated a large section of the underground chamber as the armory. Here, racks for weapons, shelves for armor, and crates for ammunition would be set up. He marked spaces for specialized compartments to store the more "sensitive" items — poisons, enchanted equipment, and tools of the assassin's trade.
"Our agents will need to be well-equipped," Vergil explained to Freya. "Weapons suited for every mission — daggers for silent kills, bows for ranged targets, and explosives for sabotage."
Freya leaned against one of the stone pillars, her tail swishing behind her. "Don't forget crossbows," she added with a smirk. "Nothing says 'surprise' like a bolt to the back."
"Noted," Vergil replied with a small smile.
On Training Hall Vergil envisioned a section of the chamber for combat training. He would install moving dummies, climbing walls, and obstacle courses. Pressure plates and mechanical traps would provide live training scenarios to test his recruits' reactions.
"Every assassin needs to know how to think on their feet," Vergil said, his eyes focused on the area where the training grounds would be. "This is where they'll learn. Reflexes, agility, and decision-making under pressure. Those who fail will have to start from the beginning."
Freya raised an eyebrow. "Sounds harsh."
"Harsh training builds sharp minds," Vergil replied. "They'll thank me later — if they survive."
At The Poison Lab, a smaller but no less important area was reserved for the laboratory. Shelves lined with glass vials, herbal ingredients, and dangerous toxins would be stored here. This is where Vergil would craft his poisons and antidotes, using his extensive knowledge from his previous life.
"Poisons are silent assassins," he explained to Freya as he marked the layout for shelves and workbenches. "Sometimes it's better to let the enemy die slowly, with no one knowing how it happened."
Freya wrinkled her nose. "I'm more of a 'bite them in the throat' kind of person, but I get it."
Vergil chuckled softly. "Subtlety isn't for everyone. But it's a skill you'll learn."
The last area is Archive section,the most critical part of the underground space of document. This would be the central repository of all intelligence, tactics, and reconnaissance reports gathered by Vergil and his network. Documents, maps, profiles of nobles, and details of hidden threats would be stored here, protected by enchantments to prevent tampering.
"Information is a weapon," Vergil explained as he marked the Archive's location. "More dangerous than any dagger or spell. If we control information, we control everything."
Freya tapped the stone wall where Vergil planned to place the archive's enchanted vault. "And you plan to store everything down here?"
"Not everything," Vergil replied, his eyes sharp with wisdom. "Only what matters most."
Vergil back his study, the glow of a lone lantern casting long shadows across the room. Freya following before him, her ears perked and tail swaying slightly, signaling both her curiosity and excitement.
"Freya, listen closely," Vergil began, his tone firm yet instructive. "Tomorrow, your training will advance to the next level. You've shown exceptional progress so far, but it's time to refine your skills further. We'll focus on advanced magic, infiltration, and information-gathering techniques. But for now, rest. Tomorrow will be grueling."
Freya nodded, her golden eyes gleaming with determination. "Understood, Doctor. I won't let you down."
Vergil closed the tome in his hand and gave a small nod. "Good. Get some rest."
The following morning, Vergil began his day by inspecting the progress on the Avalorne facilities. Carpenters, masons, and artisans were hard at work constructing the village infrastructure, while others labored on the underground stronghold's secret entrances and secure vaults.
Satisfied with their efficiency, Vergil returned to the mansion. Freya awaited him in the underground chamber, where he had prepared for her next lesson.
Vergil stood in the training hall of their underground hideout, his presence commanding as he addressed Freya.
"Freya," he began, pacing slowly, "there are four primary types of assassins, each with their own unique skills and methods. Throughout my travels, I've encountered—and mastered—all four. Today, you'll begin understanding them."
Freya tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Four types? What are they, Doctor?"
Vergil stopped and turned to face her, his blue eyes intense. "Pay attention. This knowledge will shape the foundation of your abilities."
Vergil's voice was steady, each word deliberate. "First one is Combat assassin, a Combat Assassin is the simplest to understand. They are warriors trained to target high-value individuals directly—generals, officers, kings, and emperors. By eliminating key figures, they disrupt chains of command, causing chaos among enemy forces and also displaying the skill of combat to instal fear in eney heart."
Freya nodded thoughtfully, her tail twitching. "So they're like precision strikes in battle?"
Vergil smirked. "Exactly. But a Combat Assassin must be fast and ruthless. Infiltration isn't their focus; destruction is."
Vergil continued, his tone taking on a sharper edge. "The Infiltrator is the shadow within the enemy's walls. They excel in sabotage, theft, and espionage. Whether it's stealing vital documents, planting false information, or gathering evidence of corruption, their mission is to manipulate events from within and also act as the target too. They also spreading discord among enemy rank, when enemy do not trusting each other is easy target."
Freya's ears perked up. "That sounds… delicate. They'd have to be patient and subtle, right?"
"Correct," Vergil affirmed. "An Infiltrator is as much a spy as an assassin. It requires wit, charm, and precise execution."
Vergil walked to a shelf holding various vials and ingredients. "The Poisoner specializes in the art of toxins. Their weapons are coated with deadly substances—paralytics, hallucinogens, or lethal poisons. Even a scratch from their blade can prove fatal. They also can put any poison to target food or drink, even small dose of it can have huge disturbing health for target
Freya wrinkled her nose slightly. "That sounds… messy."
Vergil chuckled. "Messy, yes. But effective. A Poisoner can kill without ever being seen. Their targets don't even realize they've been struck until it's too late."
" The last one is type i will teach you tomorrow is special one, is called Sniping Assassin type" Vergil adding
Freya tilted her head. "So those are the four types. But what about this… Sniping Assassin you mentioned?"
Vergil's expression darkened slightly, his tone becoming more serious. "The Sniping Assassin is a specialist in long-range elimination. They use bows, crossbows, or advanced tools like magical rifles to kill their targets from a distance."
He walked to a corner of the room and creating a sleek weapon—a magical rifle he had crafted himself. Its dark metallic frame was inscribed with glowing runes, and its design was a blend of traditional craftsmanship and otherworldly technology.
Freya's eyes widened. "What… is that?"
"A magical rifle," Vergil said simply. "A weapon capable of delivering precise, lethal shots from incredible distances. It uses condensed mana to propel projectiles, making it both silent and deadly. You'll learn how to wield it, but only after mastering the basics."
Freya stepped closer, her hand reaching out but stopping just short of touching the weapon. "It's incredible. You made this yourself?"
Vergil nodded. " With magic? Yes. It's one of many tools we'll use. Tomorrow, we begin your training in long-range assassination. You'll learn to use the weapon, calculate trajectories, and eliminate targets without ever being seen."
As the lesson concluded, Vergil's voice softened. "Freya, not everyone is suited for every type of assassin role. You'll discover where your strengths lie, but understanding them all is crucial. Mastery comes from knowledge and adaptability."
Freya's golden eyes met his, filled with determination. "I'll do my best, Doctor. I'll make you proud."
Vergil allowed a rare smile. "You already have. Now rest—tomorrow marks the next stage of your journey."
As Freya left to prepare for the night, Vergil turned back to the magical rifle into slab of iron, his mind already planning her next lessons. Avalorne's foundation was set, but the Brotherhood of Shadows had only just begun.