Chapter Text

Chapter I: Draped in a Silver Veil

Crimson light from the windows shone throughout the room, casting the floorboards ablaze with a color almost blood red.

Miku gazed out of the window at the dirt and filth covering the streets. The wind picked up, cursing the city with a small tornado of dust. People fled into their homes, some were covering their eyes with ragged pieces of clothing in an attempt to shield themselves from the dirt. Miku was thankful the Crimson Order had a hideout indoors.

The sight pulled her back to her mission— back to the plan.

Miku was to arrive at a grand ball hosted at the Varan palace, at the very heart of the empire. She would disguise herself as a noble, a gentle young woman who could capture the heart of a prince. She’d guide him to the royal gardens and at the final stroke of midnight— kill him under the cover of night. By the time anyone found the prince, it would be too late. What happened after was blurry. Miku knew there was a safe house somewhere outside the capital but had no idea where. Escape, regroup, and flee. The plan ended there. She was the Crimson Order's “Cendrillon.”

And there wasn’t a doubt in her mind.

Miku flinched at the sound of a muffled bang. A gust of wind had thrown a rock into a bakery window. Glass shards littered the ground, a spark of light glinting off each cut. She hadn't heard a scream, so it was unlikely anyone had been hit.

‘That window will still take money to repair, money that family doesn't have….’

Startled by the noise, Miku began taking in her surroundings. No one had arrived yet except herself. The room was nearly empty, except for a large desk sat in the middle of the room. Dust covered the wooden surface and weapons lined the walls, from daggers to pistols. Miku knew the room was once a study, repurposed for a weaponry room.

The wooden desk held two maps. One map showed the entire Varan empire, labeling the six territories: Adeair, Tashmenn, Valaxis, Natin, Asram, Saphillage, and of course Varanyth. The other map was a larger, detailed map of the capital specifically. Notes were scrawled across the paper, taking up any space that wasn’t covered with addresses and streets. She tried to burn the image into her mind, every alleyway, every blind spot.

There was a click of approaching shoes on the dark, wooden floors.

“I see you're early today, Cendrillion,” a voice said from the doorway.

‘Cendrillion— that’s who I need to be.’

Miku turned to see two people, one with long pink hair that flowed from her scalp to her back. Her eyes, a muted mix between blue and purple. She was wearing a black dress decorated with lace that ran below her knees. Beside her, a blonde haired girl, wearing a similar black dress. The girl's eyes were a dark green, like a forest covered with foliage. Her hair fell right at her shoulders and a black ribbon was tied within it. It was Luka and Rin, her “stepmother” and “stepsister.”

Luka held a dagger in her hand.

“Yes, Luka,” Miku finally responded. “Is—“ Her voice was cut off by a dagger that left a small crack in the wall behind her when it hit the wood. Rin let out a small note of surprise. Miku had missed the blow, but only because she had subconsciously moved out of the way. Her heart picked up speed for a panicked moment but returned to normal shortly afterwards. She glanced at Luka’s empty hands.

“I see your reflexes are still sharp as ever” Luka observed, brushing hair out of her face.

“Careful Luka! Don’t kill Miku off before her big mission” Rin reproached, half joking.

“If she can’t survive a dagger to the face, she can’t survive a lethal mission” Luka pointed out. She moved towards the desk, continuing to write on the remaining blank sections of the map. Miku ripped the abandoned dagger from the wall and held it firmly within her grip. She should have known that would happen. Luka was prone to unexpected tests, more than ever as the ball drew nearer. Luka was a respected member of the order. So naturally, she was strategic and never hesitated before a kill.

She knew Luka loved them, the woman just never did in the way they expected.

“I’ve trained for two years for this, I’ve got it handled, Luka.” Miku announced, staring at the blade. The handle was imprinted with ridges and curves which made it easier to hold onto. At the bottom, carved into the blade, the same rose symbol.

“I know you do,” Luka muttered, still writing. Miku tucked the dagger into her pocket.

“You got everything prepared?” Miku asked, turning to Rin.

"Of course!" Rin chirped, stepping closer. Rin was a fellow trainee under Luka. She was ripped away from the same homelessness as Miku when she was merely seven years old, becoming a “stepsister.” Those times felt so far away, despite only ten years passing. But as far as Miku was concerned, Rin had been by her side since the beginning.

“Our dresses are laid out along with the sharpest weapons I could find.” She added.

Rin had never been chosen for an assassination, or any important mission at all. She knew how to kill, but refused. Rin had never explained why, even to Miku. Rin had a sort of hope and brightness about her that couldn’t be trained out, and a fierce passion that was impossible to suppress. The girl wouldn’t budge. Besides, Rin's vow didn’t mean anything to the higher ups, no one was rushing for her to slit a throat.

If she was being honest, Miku was a little jealous of Rin. Jealous she was able to stay so strong despite everything she’d gone through. It’s not liked it mattered, she still loved the girl to death.

“Have you heard anything from the Fairy Godmother?” Miku asked.

“Nope,” Rin said, shaking her head, “I tried asking a messenger but they wouldn’t budge.”

The creator of the order, “The Fairy Godmother,” rarely communicated directly, always through one of her “messengers.” Miku and Rin had never met her and Luka hadn't even seen her face. Miku sometimes wondered who she was… and how she could possibly manage the entire Crimson Order in such a way.

Luka turned away from the desk aggressively, placing her pencil down with a clatter, her brow furrowed. The assassin seemed upset that the group had such little time left in their hands, and Miku agreed. The two apprentices stood shoulder to shoulder staring intently at their mentor.

“The carriage will arrive any minute now, we should get dressed,” Luka instructed, taking a breath. “Rin,” the blonde immediately stood taller, “Double check, make sure you packed everything you could. Bring knives, guns, sedatives, anything that can fit inside your dress— bring it with you.”

“Got it!” Rin nodded, took a few weapons from the wall that caught her eye and rushed out of the room to get ready. The air stayed still for a moment, as if even the wind knew what was to happen tonight.

Luka began to leave but suddenly stopped in the doorway, “Miku” Luka started, turning her head to face her apprentice. “You know what you have to do?”

“Yes,” she said, returning the question. “It’s Fate, afterall.”

“Fate can only drive you so far, Miku.”

Luka took a step forward and placed her hand on Miku's shoulder.

“Do you remember that night?” Luka muttered. Miku drew in a sharp breath as painful memories forced their way through her mind.

The blazing light. The ashes lining the ground.

Miku had lived through that night in her head thousands of times, there were moments where she got so lost in the dream— unable to shake it off. Of course she remembered September 28, 1904.

The smell of smoke still left her uneasy.

“Yes,” Miku swallowed.

“Good, anchor on to that, never forget why you’re doing this” Luka whispered, she never enjoyed bringing up the topic, only when it was absolutely necessary. Then with a slight shake of Miku’s shoulder, Luka turned on her heel and walked away.

Miku took a deep breath, rubbing her hands together. Morning light still gleamed through the room casting a thin sliver of sun on each knife, as if they were calling to her. She stole one last glance at the dust storm raging outside the tall window, the journey to the capital would be tiring to say the least.

‘All of this will end tonight.’

Miku headed out the door of the study, to disguise herself with a cloak of innocent white.