There was much to consider before following the clue. Every fiber of Cassius thrummed with barely restrained excitement, but he kept his wits about him. This wasn't how he had planned to approach the task. He needed to exercise caution and do his homework before the mission. He knew it was his first shot at something great—and possibly his last chance.
The paper bore a red cross, which was Cassius' clue. He kept his eyes and ears open as he navigated the crowded streets on his way home. Despite anticipating something unusual, he was still surprised by what he saw. Everywhere he looked, there was a small red cross—from the wooden posts of market stalls to the flashy robes of strumpets strutting towards the rakes and debauchees thronging the town's ghettos.
Cassius resisted the urge to follow the red crosses that seemed to be everywhere. He also sensed someone following him, eyes boring into his back no matter where he turned. Keeping his back straight, he scanned his surroundings from beneath the hood of his cloak. One arm hung at his side while the other stayed hidden, fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger.
There was no doubt it was magic. Cassius could taste it in the air and feel it thrumming around him. He had never encountered magic before and didn't know how it worked, but he had heard about wizards and read all about their craft. That's why it wasn't hard for him to deduce that he was hallucinating the red crosses. No one else seemed to notice them, further confirming his suspicion that the crosses were illusions created solely to test him.
There were countless stories of men who went to sleep and woke up able to wield power through their imagination alone. How humans gained magic remained a mystery, though many cases had been documented over the years. Cassius had always taken pride in his knowledge, but he was questioning everything for the first time in his life. It was all because a wizard was nearby, playing tricks. He didn't know why, but he believed this wizard worked for The Axis of Seraphim.
Cassius believed the only way to pass the test was by approaching it sensibly and practicing patience. He walked out of the slums and headed to the inn where he planned to stay for the night. The previous week, he had stayed at another inn across town, but after eliminating Countess Adhelina, he decided to change locations.
"Someone came asking for you," the innkeeper greeted Cassius as he entered the now-empty lounge. It was never as crowded as Wiscar's tavern or the inn he'd stayed at before.
"Did he leave a name?" Cassius asked, taking a bar stool.
"No," the innkeeper replied, shaking his head and pushing a plate with roast meat in gravy, cheese, bread, and a mug of mead before Cassius. "Just dropped something."
"Where is it?"
"In your room."
Cassius didn't waste time and headed straight for his room upstairs, leaving the dinner untouched. The innkeeper watched him go, his expression impassive. This indifference was one of the reasons Cassius had chosen to stay there. The innkeeper was the type of man who didn't care what transpired behind the closed doors of his inn or even in the lounge. He kept to himself, which was why he had always managed to stay out of trouble despite the frequent fights that broke out between drunk clients.
Sure enough, an envelope rested on the table in Cassius' room. He removed his gloves and cloak, then walked over to it. Holding his breath, he opened the envelope and found another cross on a piece of parchment, marked with the faded symbol of The Axis of Seraphim. Turning the paper over, he found nothing else. Dropping it back on the table, he ran his fingers through his hair, deep in thought.
"Did I miss something?" he whispered to himself, pacing the narrow space between the single bed and the table by the window that overlooked the street.
After a few moments, Cassius retrieved the piece of paper he had received at Wiscar's tavern and placed it beside the one left in his room. They were identical in size, forming a larger page when placed together. Cassius' mind raced as he picked them up and held them to the moonlight filtering through the window. A gasp escaped his lips as he noticed writing on the pages. Lowering them, he realized the writing was illegible.
Pocketing the pieces of paper, Cassius rushed out of his room, throwing caution to the wind for once in his life. He thundered down the stairs to find the innkeeper cleaning beer mugs with a rag hooked into his belt.
"I need candles in my room," Cassius demanded. "Two—no, make it three. And bring dinner. Now."
Without waiting for a response, Cassius bounded back up the stairs. In his room, he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and splashed water on his face.
Much later, the innkeeper finally brought dinner along with three candles in a candelabra. After he departed, Cassius moved the dinner tray to the bed and retrieved the papers. Holding his breath, he held them against the flames. Suddenly, the writing became legible, confirming his suspicions. Together, the two pieces of paper carried the complete message.
One week hence, at Aeston, underneath the Carnich Bridge, in the dead of night. Attend alone and bear no weapons, lest consequences follow.
Suddenly, Cassius lost his appetite. Alarm coursed through him, yet beneath it, an exhilarating sense of anticipation stirred. He had been striving for this all along, wasn't it?
***
It took Cassius five days to reach Aeston, a town in the northern reaches of the kingdom, much closer to the realms where the supernatural thrived. The town had an unsettling quietness, and the humans moved slowly through their daily routines. Despite their fallen expressions and nervous glances, it was evident they lived in fear. Cassius couldn't comprehend why these people chose to remain in places where danger loomed like a naked sword over their heads.
Cassius checked into an inn at the far end of the town, which appeared desolate at first glance. However, judging by how the innkeeper and the lone customer eyed him, it was clear that visitors to Aeston were not common.
Warning swept down Cassius' spine when he stepped into the narrow hallway leading him to the room he'd booked for a few days. He cautiously moved towards his room with his fingers curled around his dagger. He stopped there for a few minutes, listening. When he heard nothing, he inserted the key into the lock.
Suddenly, the door wrenched open from the other side, and a hand forcefully pulled Cassius into the room. Instinctively, Cassius seized the arm that grasped him, swiftly twisting to break free. A sharp kick aimed at his legs caused him to stumble, but he maintained his balance, countering as his assailant attempted to force him to the ground.
They exchanged blows in a flurry of action, each skillfully blocking the other's attacks. Cassius observed that his assailant fought silently, suggesting a disciplined training background. When neither gained an advantage, they cautiously stepped back from each other.
"Not bad," came a hoarse voice. "But not the sort of man I'd have preferred to hire."
"Who are you?" Cassius demanded.
"It doesn't matter," the man replied calmly, his voice slicing through the heavy silence that enveloped them. Before Cassius could press for more answers, the man turned and briskly exited the room. Breathing heavily, Cassius scanned the room for signs of disturbance. Finding none, he sank onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his face. He questioned his decision to take on the task, though in truth, he hadn't accepted it—he hadn't been given a choice from the start. Not that he would have refused it, either way.
***
Cassius arrived at the designated location early, just after dinner, with several hours remaining until midnight. A narrow river flowed beneath the Carnich Bridge, leaving a slim embankment on each side. The tide was low, but the rush of water grew louder as the night deepened.
Staying hidden in the shadows, Cassius wore his cloak with the hood pulled low, his ears keenly attuned to any approaching footsteps. As the night wore on, no one came, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut, urging caution. He was a solitary man without any living relatives or friends who would notice if he disappeared forever.
The Axis of Seraphim had operated in the shadows for as long as anyone could remember. They had manipulated Cassius in the town, attempting to mislead him, and when he didn't fall for their trick, they deemed him worthy of advancing to the next stage of their mission. They had sent someone to test him in combat, further assessing his capabilities. However, this did not guarantee they would not discard him once he served their purpose. Not everyone could join the Axis of Seraphim, and only a selected few were deemed worthy of working for them—including the ones from the other races.
Tonight, Cassius intended to uncover the nature of the mission he had been chosen for. Yet, doubts plagued him for the first time in his years as a bounty hunter. He wondered if he would succeed as he always had. His heart was uncertain, but then he shook them away from his mind. He would succeed no matter what, he decided.
As time passed, the night deepened around Cassius, and Aeston grew eerily silent, save for the continuous water flow. Hours stretched by with no one approaching him, and eventually, he began to wonder if he had been deceived. Or did the organization decide that he didn't qualify for the mission, whatever it was? Contemplating a return with shoulders slumped and disappointment settling in, Cassius suddenly felt a sharp impact at the nape of his neck. His hand instinctively shot to the back of his head, where he touched something strangely familiar.
Pulling the object out and holding it up to the moonlight, Cassius's eyes widened in shock, his muscles tense with disbelief.
It was the bone needle Cassius reserved for his blowtube—a hella expensive item, yet invaluable. Tonight, its deadly accuracy had been turned against him by an assailant whose skill in the dark was commendable. Cassius cursed himself for his lapse in alertness, for allowing the hood of his cloak to fall back and the cool night air to touch his skin.
Cassius's world spun as he struggled to steady himself, grasping for the bridge column for support but failing. Moments before his limp body struck the embankment, he discerned the faint sound of approaching footsteps—soft and almost imperceptible, yet unmistakable to his trained senses. As his vision blurred and consciousness slipped away, he caught a glimpse of black boots halting at the edge of his fading sight.
Stay tuned for the next chapter on 01/03/25