[b]Hunter[/b]

The man was more than angry he was enraged – outrageously enraged that his ears were red. Lord Thomas Hallowgem, King Edward’s brother-in-law and most trusted advisor, sat behind his desk, grudgingly signing papers. He lifted his gray head when the assassin entered the room and looked at him as if he was just another bothersome child instead of the assassin that he himself summoned to his study. Lord Thomas didn’t bother to mask the frustration he was feeling, he simply let it crumple his already wrinkled face and gestured for Hunter to take a seat. 

Truth be told, Hunter would rather be chained inside enemy territory, interrogated by those who had perfected the art of torture, than be sitting in the same room as the late queen’s brother. Lord Thomas Hallowgem was not a pleasant man in general, more so when his face was red with fury. 

Not that he was afraid of the man. Although stripped of all his weapons, Hunter could kill Lord Thomas with his bare hands if he thought it beneficial. But the lord was Hunter’s patron, which therefore exempts Hallowgem from the assassin’s whim.

“You are the brightest of Mooton’s boys,” said Hallowgem. 

Perhaps, because Hunter already had an idea what was making this man so mad. Nevertheless, he kept his face straight and nodded without a word. He learned that he was more formidable looking that way and that people responded positively with fear. Sometimes even Hallowgem seemed afraid of him, but not that morning.

“I have a special assignment for you, Hunter Pyne. An assignment that will land you a position, a title, and a land should you succeed,” the older man continued. His voice was calm when he spoke and some of the lines that denoted his anger seemed to disappear. He had placed down all his papers and was instead seemed fully interested in memorizing the face of his assassin, who still spoke neither a word nor showed any emotion in his presence. “Have you heard of the artifact called ‘Thief of Time’?”

Hunter answered truthfully. “I have, on occasions, heard of it when I was a boy learning about the culture and lore of Westlands.”

Hallowgem leaned back on his chair and clasped his hands together on his stomach. The man was old enough to be Hunter’s father, but Thomas Hallowgem was a lean man with an almost flat stomach and straight back that could only be from years of discipline in the military. “Good to hear that Gerrad takes care of his boys’ education as much as their training. Now, I want you to bring back the Thief of Time for me, Hunter.”

Bring it back? Did the old man hit his head? Hunter cleared his throat. He was not used to questioning authority, but bringing back a fabled artifact was insane. He was an assassin not a treasure hunter. Perhaps Hallowgem had been wrong to summon Hunter in the room. “With all due respect, my lord, there is no evidences” the assassin started slowly, choosing his words as they came out of his mouth. “That such an artifact exists. I recommend consulting a scholar to research the possibility that it is real.”
Hunter expected a harsh rebuke from his superior, but other than the burrowing together of Lord Hallowgem’s brows, there was nothing. “That is a viable first step. I am giving you only until the first snow falls to the earth to bring me the artifact. If not, it shall be your head that will be brought to my feet,” the lord said.

He would want to see the men that Thomas would send try to take his head from his shoulder. If it was another man he was talking to, Hunter would have snorted at the idea. 

“The person who will return the artifact to the castle shall be crowned the king.” Hallowgem showed the document that he was signing with a snarl. “This is the last decree of our late King Edward. The high council supports and shall enforce it. Once the edict is out every man – highborn and peasant – shall vie for the throne, but none is more fitting than I to sit on it. I am giving you a head start by telling you the information in advance. I expect to have the artifact before the first day of winter.” He leveled Hunter with a cold gaze, a silent threat saying that Hunter could not think about taking the throne for himself.

“I understand, your highness,” he said after a short pause. 

Hunter was granted funds and all the resources he would need to find the artifact. He left the castle early the following day and started riding disguised as a young heir of a lord disguising as a peasant.

[b]Lilliana[/b]

It had not yet been a week since King Edward passed away and the whole kingdom was still in mourning. Suddenly black was very fashionable. Even in a place as far away from the capital as the province of Larton, one could feel the heavy atmosphere brought about by the loss of a well loved leader. At least Lilliana felt the lingering grief in her solitude.

That day was the day that the Westlands would lay their king down to his final resting place. Her father and brothers together with her mother went into the capital to pay their last respects to the late king. Lilliana had been left behind, not of her own will, of course. Sometimes she wondered whether or not she was a daughter borne of her parents’ flesh and blood. Not that she neither look like her parents nor her siblings, but because her parents treated her differently from her brothers when the only real difference was that she was a girl.

The young woman sat on a fallen tree trunk with moss softening its bark in the middle of a clearing. Her dress would be ruined and her mother would not approve of her sulking alone in the woods. Then again, her mother would not see her in a few days or even weeks so Lilliana didn’t care. 

There was nothing to do inside the house and nobody to stop her from preventing her to do what she wanted to do. The woods were a lovely place, which she frequented with her brothers as a child, but as she grew older, her mother became strict when it comes to her daily itinerary. 

As she sat there though, with her legs dangling over the edge and a book balanced on her lap, the sound of rushing air caught her attention. She looked up to rustling leaves, then higher towards the clear blue skies. Her eyes widened and she felt the sudden hammering of her heart on her chest as the sight of a bright ball of fire falling down from the sky towards… her.

Lilliana didn’t have time to react. Actually, she did, but fear and surprise stunned her where she sat. The ball descended fast and hit the ground with a sound she could only compare to a thunder clap. The earth shook and she fell off the tree trunk. Curiosity pushed her to look into what fell off the sky.

“A woman?” she asked more to herself than to anybody else. Still shaky, she got to her feet and cocked her head to the side. A woman was indeed at the center of the dent on the ground. 

“Are you alright?” she called out. But in her mind, she kept on thinking how could the anybody be alright after falling off the sky?