The Order’s roots - a family more than an organization - reached back to the beginnings of the Aurelian Empire. Standing unseen through the civil wars, the invasions of other countries, and even the transition from emperor to empress, machinations of the Order were felt yet unclaimed. Those who claimed ownership of introducing a change were targets. Those who could be the impetus of change and remain unseen? They were the overlords that dictated even the royalty - the supposed chosen by God to lead the people like sheep. The world would bend to their whim by the contracts they took. No matter if the contract caused the kingdom to collapse or catapulted it into a boom, the Order somehow had a hand to play in it. Events of significance that is.

Olivia swung through a window as her cowl was drawn up over her head and drowned her face in shadows. The times were grim in the empire. While their profession was high demand, Olivia saw past her work and thought about the whole. The empire was dying from this plague that swept through the streets. The nobles kept to their richer districts while the soldiers oppressed the poor and killed without doing their diligence or duty. The several lives she took in the past hour were not demanded by contract. The Grandmaster directed them not to intervene, but she couldn’t stand by. The strong survived and the weak perished. That was the truth of the world. The one, singular truth. That didn’t mean the strong couldn’t help. Olivia grew up amongst the faceless poor; the scars of being an orphan still burned freshly in her mind. Back then, she was weak and did whatever it took to endure and survive. Now? She had the skills to exact her revenge on those that wronged her back then.

“Quod maius est vitae (What is life’s greatest boon)?”

Hearing the question, Olivia quickly sought the correct answer in her mind. It was a check for all who came to the Order’s safe houses. If answered correctly, the brother or sister would welcome on with open arms. If answered incorrectly, however, a swift or slow death awaited the fabricator. Circumstances dictated the manner of death.

“Silentio tua fraternitas (Silence, dear brother).”

“Amplest tenebris (Embrace the shadows).”

Olivia looked over the man who spoke. A stocky, well-built brother.

“Quaerere liberationem (Seek liberation).”

The man waved to an inner door as the two assassin’s walked in. The inner room was well lit with candles. A desk with various instruments of death - blades, poison, clockwork pistols, and various other necessities - were arranged neatly upon it. Another table holding sheets of parchments were stacked neatly though it was evident someone was looking through them before. If Olivia had to guess, it was the brother that received her. There were two other figures in the room as well - a female and another male. Seeing more than two of the Order in one safe house was peculiar and odd. The brunette’s curiosity was peaked. Either there were many contracts to be done in this area or something had happened. She remembered the contracts for this area being sparse however.

“Sister,” said an assassin who sat by the fire. He stood up as she stole a glance at the color scarf he wore. Grey. A recruit. “An elite? I’m honored, sister.”

The Order had a simple yet complex hierarchy system. The color cloth that each assassin wore around their neck was not simply for fashion. Grey was a recruit, blue was an assassin, red was an elite, and black was reserved for the masters. If these articles weren’t seen on the assassin, the tattoo imprinted on their wrist told the others of their status. Simple, but the hierarchy was followed and enforced strictly.

“The honor is mine. Is the sister your mentor then?” The female assassin turned around as she nodded to Olivia. “I was worried ill developments had transpired. It’s not typical to see so many in one spot.”

“Amplest tenebris, sister,” said the assassin as she got to her feet. A blue scarf. “His first kill tonight. Do you recall the noble? The fat one who threw those extravagant parties near the merchant district? Aldonaus, if I recalled correctly?”

“I believe I saw the contract. Something about blackmailing a merchant yes? The reward was extravagant. The risk was great. What was the method?”

“I fear that tale must wait.” Olivia looked behind her as another red scarf appeared from the door. “Evening, sister Abington.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “We’re not followers of the cloth here, Victor.”

Victor laughed as he lowered his hood to reveal is shaggy brown hair. It was attractive in an odd way. Aesthetically for Olivia. Nodding to the other assassin’s, Victor walked up to Olivia as he handed over a scroll. “You’ll find the mark of the masters on it. This is a direct intervention they asked me to deliver to you. Do you remember the ranger you were sent to kill? There’s another he was connected to that the client wants dealt with,” he said. “They’ve tripled the usual payment for priority. The masters were inclined to the contract.”

Opening the scroll, Olivia read its contents. “They want to murder a child? A girl? Did the masters explain why?”

Victor shook his head. “We accept contracts without asking for the reasoning. Do you not remember?”

“I remember, but all because the girl’s related to the ranger? Makes you wonder,” Olivia said as she tucked the scroll into her robes. Moving towards the table, she began to restock herself as poison vials, smoke bombs, and all the instrumentations she would need for any possible situation that could unfurl. “They should’ve sent a recruit.”

“It was a courtesy. Tying up loose ends and such. I don’t know. I’m told nothing. I’m merely a messenger.”

“Clearly,” Olivia said as she made for the door. There was another contract to be done. She only had to kill a young one once before, and it never got easier. Olivia hoped it never would either.

—

Moving silent above the hustle down below, it astounded the brunette that the masses didn’t travel above and stayed to the streets. Habit she supposed. A bigger obstacle was one’s ability to leap from rooftop to rooftop and balancing on narrow edges. The average person would have trouble with that as well she supposed.

Olivia had been traveling for a good hour as she traveled underneath the moonlight. She was in the slums - dangerously near the plague zone - as she studied a rather bland looking house. The contract was informative. The location of the girl was given to her as well as a picture. Seeing her contract before the kill didn’t help. It made things so much harder.

Making her way down to the street level, Olivia found a bench near the house as she took a seat. There were other sitters there as well, which she didn’t mind. She had a perfect view of her surroundings as well as the guards patrolling nearby. Taking a deep breath, Olivia closed her eyes as she held the air. Slowly, she exhaled as she felt herself fall into her trance-like focus mindset. It was time to hunt. The contract demanded the child, and she would deliver.

Nettala had never really been good with children, which seemed a tad odd since kids always seemed to like her, crawling all over whenever she gave them the chance. She didn't understand it, but in the back of her mind, she was glad that her presence had given the little girl some sense of comfort. Anna was her name and she was silently snuggled up next to the ranger as they sat on the porch of an outlying cabin. It had belonged to Anna's father, giving a beautiful view of the forest and the castle walls, reflecting a certain beauty in the mixture of civilization and nature.

Netta ran it through her mind more than a dozen times and at the end of each day, she just didn't get it. He had seemed like such a friendly sort and who honestly kills a man to leave his daughter alone? His wife had passed away about a year ago and now Anna was dealing with both parents dead. The ranger corp was generally thought of as a close-knit family and even if Nettala didn't fit into it so well, they all took it upon themselves to raise the little girl. It had been Netta's turn this week.

They both continued to sit in complete silence. The ranger's elbows rested on her knees, using her palms to help support her chin as she stared into the horizon. Anna's small head gently resting against the ranger's side. Anna was so quiet since her father's passing that she in fact hadn't said a single word since. She didn't shed a tear, cry out in anger, or acted out - just kept quiet and to herself. Maybe that's why Anna seemed to like Nettala the most - they shared those traits in common.

The current state of affairs didn't help either, but it wasn't like the ranger could make much sense of it. Besides the plague - which she wasn't a healer - all the politics of the nobles went right over her head. She just wanted to help people and she enjoyed her walks within the forests and creeks. Perhaps she was simpler than most who had opinions about nobles, kings, and queens, but in truth Nettala had always been an idealist - wanted to help people because it was the right thing to do.