Nobody knew who was in the third room on the top floor.
The tavern was rather small, with a few rooms and a quaint little bar. And yet, it was completely silent, aside from the heavy rain battering against the thin windows of the building. The feeling of nostalgia was almost palpable in the air.
But something felt off, even for the little child clinging to his mother at a seat near the back. Then, someone came down from the stairs. That broke the quiet atmosphere. As did the silent thwap coming from them. Slowly, her warmth faded away.
Chasing after it was an athlete running a marathon, the guard chasing a criminal, doing sprints in the quicksand. Before he knew it, it was gone. Forever.
Yet, he didn’t care. He couldn’t care, in all honesty. He was a psychopath since the minute of his birth. He didn’t care even when the figure proceeded to grab and take him. Life was full of surprises, and this was just the next one.
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He awoke silently in an underground room. The stone ceiling was barely held up by decaying wooden poles in the corners and top of the room. He could only faintly see what looked to be a humanoid figure standing directly in front of him. ‘So. Care to explain my presence in this dark, damp dungeon?’ The boy spoke methodically and sparsely.
The silence was broken, shattered into a million pieces all fluttering in the nonexistent metaphorical wind.
‘...I believe witnessing my emblem shall be enough.’
The voice was clearly masculine. The figure lifted a small metallic object. The Assassin's Guild emblem was engraved into the bronze sheet.
‘What business could the Assassin’s guild have with a child like me?’
The figure shifted and procured a faintly glowing clipping of parchment, very rough to the touch. The boy read it over, every letter.
‘So. A recruitment soul contract, hm?’