Chapter Text
The prison guard dutifully stared out of the window at the cold ground and didn’t notice a black-clad figure with two pistols hanging from their hips dangled from the roof of the observation tower, dropping onto the stone roof of the main prison.
The door to the tower was modern, iron with a circular handle that when turned, lifted a wooden barricade that barred the door shut. A long, loose braid fell over the figure’s shoulder, emerging from the hood that concealed her face, as a fine silver blade about thirty centimeters long seemed to leap into her hand, her fingers wrapping perfectly around its leather grip.
Soundlessly, the girl sliced off the chain that held the door shut and slipped her dagger back into its sheath in her sleeve before turning the circular handle. The guard spun around and slammed his hand down on the alarm bell. It clanged and four guards with shotguns ran in.
“Hey boys,” she purred. The girl shifted her weight and her dagger vanished, her fingers gripping her pistol tightly as she drew one. Her black cloak spread to show a grey tunic faintly patterned with black roses and black leggings as she squeezed the trigger, having loaded it before entering. With a strangled cry, the bullet hit a guard in the neck. Already, another two were on the way, with the mechanism clicking as the girl reloaded.
“I thought you would be more fun,” she cackled as the guard crumpled to the ground, the small wound in his chest gently bleeding, and the remaining guards faltered, astonished. The girl took advantage of their hesitation and quickly dispatched them within a matter of seconds. When she was sure that no one would raise the alarm further, the girl slipped out of the room and down a corridor, slinging her gun back on her hip. Tiny identical cells lined the walls, all they contained was a set of thin, ratty blankets and a bucket to use as a toilet.
“Come on, old man,” the girl froze as voices wafted through the echoey halls, the footsteps growing closer. She franticly scanned the walls and found a vent. Quick as lightning, the girl climbed inside and replaced the grate just as a guard walked up to the cell in front of her and threw an elderly man inside. The man wore torn, brown rags that blended in with the compacted earth of the cell floor.
The girl winced as he hit the ground but crawled away anyway, taking great care for her pistols to not bang against the vent. The vent system was small and cramped and not at all designed to be used as a tunnel, but she was light, agile and smart. She knew where to not put her weight and which way to go when a fork appeared, having studied the blueprints of the building. Soon she reached a grate that glowed with a faint light.
The girl peeked through the slats and surveyed the scene before her. Hundreds of people in the same tattered brown clothes as the elderly man from before sat at splintery wooden picnic tables with bowls of soup. She scanned the room until she found her target. Senor Nero, the biggest crime boss in the whole north continent.
Born in the mountains, he grew up fighting to get by, so it seemed only natural for him to have gotten to his present rank. Rumor had it that he once killed a law enforcement officer horribly slowly and brutally because he just so happened to stray into Nero’s territory. After carefully removing the grate, the girl dropped onto Nero’s table, upsetting a few bowls. Nero was dark-skinned with all his red hair shaved off except for a tight braid at the very top of his head, his group’s version of a crown.
It was almost like he was challenging the King. His blue eyes glittered with malice and every muscle in his body was taut. The girl threw off her hood and raised her arms, as if to an audience, drawing her dagger. Her long dark hair was braided loose and her silver eyes were filled with amusement. Nero stared at her.
“Gentlemen!” she cried, her voice ringing cheerfully in the cold room.
“I am Nightingale, assassin extraordinaire,” she turned towards Nero and bowed, her pistol hanging from her hips, the gun carelessly dangling from side to side.
“But of course, you must have heard of me. If I recall correctly, you tried to hire me several times. But killing just for money isn’t what I do.” She spun around in a circle, lazily swinging her silver dagger around until she lunged, flipping over Nero. The crime boss grunted as he grabbed his bowl of soup and slammed it into her chest. The force of the hit would have knocked any normal person over but this girl was not normal.
She threw herself into a handspring as she threw her dagger. There was a wet thunk as it hit it’s mark, Nero’s chest. The girl watched in disappointment as Nero fell to the ground, silent.
“Well, that wasn’t any fun,” she pouted, crouching next to the body to retrieve her dagger. After that, there was chaos as guards tried to apprehend her and only succeeded in getting themselves killed. Bullets flew through the air, the accompanying BANGS nearly enough to deafen a person. The girl flipped onto a table, her fingers curling around her dagger’s black leather wrapped grip as she nearly tripped on a mug of dirty water, before righting herself.
Her silver eyes roamed around the room for a way to escape and they fixed on the now poorly guarded door. She slammed her foot down on a bowl of soup, spraying the liquid everywhere, and sent it spinning towards one of the guards at the door. It hit him in the head and he spun around to see who threw it. The girl waved.
“I did it mister!” she laughed as she skipped towards the door, flipping and cartwheeling over the fray. She landed neatly and delivered a perfectly aimed roundhouse kick to a guard’s head. The others saw their comrade fall and started to turn towards the threat but she never gave them the chance. The girl kicked a guard in the shins and then used his shoulders to boost her over the other guards and through the door. There was a crack and the girl winced as the bullet grazed her arm, cutting right through her black cloak. Whirling around, she pressed the tip of her silver dagger to his throat and dragged him to his feet.
“Don’t try anything or I kill him,” She sung, and blood dripped down to his collar. The man whimpered, shifting a little which only aggravated the dagger.
“That includes you I’m afraid,” she whispered to her prisoner. The man’s comrades could only watch as the girl slowly backed her way down the hall until she reached what she was going to be generous and call it the convict’s quarters. Cells lined the walls, their occupants clamouring and waving their arms through the bars.
“Let us go!” they pleaded. She smirked and tossed a throwing star that hit a middle-aged man in the neck.
“I don’t have time to deal with you lot,” she snapped. The prisoners fell quiet after that. Finally, the girl reached the gates that lead out of the prison grounds. Skeletal trees lined the rutted stone road that led into Province. She gently removed the silver knife from the guard’s throat and pushed him back towards the prison.
“W-why?” the man stammered.
“Despite appearances, I’m not a barbarian,” the girl hissed, suddenly losing her playful tone and the man shook his head.
“Why did you kill Nero?”
“The amount of people I killed tonight is nothing compared to a fraction of the ones who died by his hand. Even if they were crooks, they still deserved to be avenged,” she snarled.
“Now go, tell your colleagues to let me leave unopposed as I spared your life,” the guard trembled as he staggered back into the prison and the girl smirked, whistling. A horse ran out of the skeletal forest, pure silver in the moonlight.
“Hello, ghost,” she whispered as she stroked her horse’s velvety nose. She looked around at the prison. The prison itself was built like a fortress, made of large heavy stones stacked into walls. The heavy wooden doors swung shut as the man hurried back inside, rubbing his throat as if he could still feel the knife against his Adam’s apple. The girl bit back a smile and fondly stroked Ghost’s muzzle.
“Let’s go get our pay,” in one deft move, the girl placed her foot in the stirrup and mounted, fitting comfortably into the saddle. She fitted her bow into its place alongside the saddle and urged her horse forward and together, they rode through the dark and spooky forest. Soon, the light of Central Province began to show through the trees and the high stone wall loomed into view.
Men paced the ramparts, armed with javelins and crossbows. Torches burned in brackets made of iron. The girl smiled as she rode through the gate, ghost’s hooves clattering against the cobblestones. Shadows danced across the walls, forming images of girls dancing, not in courtly fashion, just dancing for fun. Suddenly, the image changed and the girls were fighting some vaguely humanoid forces. The girls were cut down, one by one. Ghost snorted anxiously, as if to say, “don’t worry, they’re just shadows,” the girl sighed.
“You’re right!”
The streets were dark as a cloaked figure paced in front of an oak tree. His close-cropped hair rustled in the breeze.
“Well, well, well,” the voice rolled out over the park. “You never were any good at being patient,” moving like a phantom, the girl pulled to a stop in front of the tree and dismounted.
“Did you do it?” the man asked urgently.
“Relax, Constable Matthews, the target died by my hand, his blood is on my clothes.” She flipped into a handstand. Her cloak fell away to show the still-fresh blood on her tunic. Oddly though, the blood was only on the roses, with terrifying accuracy. Her face was extremely calm for someone with blood splattering her pale face. She winced and her arm buckled, the wound on her arm gently oozing redness. Thanks to her black clothes though, the blood didn’t show up too much.
“Can I have my money now?” the Constable sighed and fished a pouch from his cloak. It clinked with gold. She righted herself and grabbed the pouch, weighing it in her hands.
“Looks like you’ve raided some poor souls bank account for this,” she teased, a wicked grin on her face.
“That’s the price we agreed on, now go. I have to get home,” Constable Matthews growled and lunged at the girl but she spun away.
“Or what? The wife will find out you’re missing and get suspicious?” she cackled as she vaulted up onto ghost’s back and bowed. The Constable only made another grab for her but the girl rode off down the street. The lanterns that lined the road threw the girl’s face into shadow but she pulled her hood up just to be sure. The people of Central Province didn’t need to see someone like her riding by, especially if they reported her to her father. She bit her lip. That wouldn’t go well, she thought. Ghost’s hooves thundered against the road as they neared the castle.