The warehouse room reeked of old leather and cold steel. Five figures sat around a scarred wooden table, each maintaining the careful distance of predators sizing up potential competition. Maps, dossiers, and coin purses lay scattered across the surface like the tools of a particularly grim trade.
The heavy door creaked open, and silence fell like a blade.
A tall figure in an expensive coat stepped into the lamplight, his face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Behind him followed a young woman, perhaps sixteen, with pale skin and dark hair that fell like curtains around a face devoid of expression. She moved with eerie precision, each step perfectly measured, her empty eyes seeing everything while revealing nothing.
Gold rings caught the flickering flame as the man placed a leather portfolio on the table. The girl positioned herself slightly behind and to his right—close enough to act, far enough to avoid interfering with business.
"Gentlemen. Lady." His voice carried the cultured tones of nobility, though something cold lurked beneath the polish. "I trust you've all reviewed the preliminary materials."
The girl's presence didn't go unnoticed. Raven's scarred hands stilled their drumming as her eyes fixed on the young woman. There was something deeply wrong about the way she stood—too still, too controlled, like a doll waiting for someone to pull her strings.
"Preliminary?" The woman at the far end of the table leaned forward, her scarred hands drumming against the wood. Raven had earned her name from both her jet-black hair and her habit of picking clean the bones of her contracts. "This is a princess we're discussing. Nothing preliminary about killing royalty."
Michael, a young boy who couldn't be more than fourteen, sat with unnaturally perfect posture. His childish features contrasted sharply with the cold, calculating expression in his eyes as he methodically cleaned dirt from under his fingernails with a small blade. "Poison's too slow anyway. Too unreliable. Better to just hunt them properly."
"Complications?" Brick laughed, the sound like gravel in a cement mixer. The mountain of muscle cracked his knuckles with sounds like breaking wood. "You make it too complicated. Find princess. Crush princess. Collect payment."
Shadow said nothing, as was his way. The hooded figure simply tilted his head slightly—the equivalent of a philosophical dissertation from anyone else. His silence spoke volumes about his preferred methods.
Audi, opened a neat leather portfolio and consulted his notes. "According to the intelligence provided, the target maintains minimal security. One bodyguard of questionable competence, two servants with no combat training. Standard elimination protocols should suffice."
Michael looked up from his blade with mild interest. "What kind of questionable? Missing limbs questionable, or just old and slow questionable?"
The mysterious employer settled into the empty chair at the head of the table. "Each of you has been selected for specific capabilities. This is not a simple murder—it's the removal of a threat to economic stability."
"Pretty words," Raven said, her scarred lips curving into a predatory smile. "But dead is dead, whether you call it elimination or pest control. What's the real timeline?"
"She departs the capital in two days for an expedition into the eastern territories. First night at Lord Reid's estate - a wealthy merchant with genuine hospitality and unfortunate timing. His manor provides the perfect isolated location, and his good intentions will make him an unwitting accomplice."
The employer slid individual envelopes across the table. "Your advance payments and specific assignments. This ends at Reid's estate. One night, one target, one outcome."
The girl moved then, a fluid motion that placed sealed letters beside each envelope—additional instructions that hadn't been there moments before. Her movements were so quiet, so perfectly controlled, that even professional killers found themselves unnerved.
Brick tore open his envelope and grinned at the coin inside. "Good money. Very good money. But why five of us? One princess, one bodyguard, two maids. Seems like overkill."
His eyes drifted to the silent girl. "And why bring the kid? This isn't a place for children."
The employer's voice carried a warning edge. "Mira is my personal assistant. She ensures quality control in all business ventures."
He paused just long enough to bend toward her, his shadow spilling across her face. His lips almost brushed her cheek as he whispered in a voice too soft for the others to hear:
"You will go help them."
The words carried neither warmth nor encouragement, only the chill of command. Mira did not flinch, did not breathe differently, only inclined her head with mechanical obedience.
The girl—Mira—turned her empty gaze toward Brick. For a moment, something flickered behind those vacant eyes. Not emotion, exactly, but recognition. Like a weapon acknowledging a potential target.
"Insurance," Audi replied, making careful notes in his ledger. "Redundancy ensures project completion within acceptable parameters. If primary elimination fails, secondary assets activate."
"You talk like she's a business problem," Raven observed, weighing her coin purse. "But royalty fights back differently than merchants and guild leaders. They're trained for this kind of attention."
Michael's eyes lit up with childish excitement. "Can I hunt the bodyguard? Injured ones are more fun. They try so hard to compensate."
Audi flipped through his files. "According to the records, he was discharged for assaulting two superior officers. Accused them of corruption - something about sending troops into dangerous territory with degraded potions while pocketing the difference."
"Typical whistleblower," Raven observed. "Probably thinks he's some kind of hero."
Michael giggled. "Ooh, so he has a temper! And a sense of justice! Those are the best kind to break. They fight so hard to protect what they believe in."
Audi continued reading. "The incident occurred after a 'survey expedition' to the Dark Continent that went badly wrong. Officially just mapping territory, but the documents suggest it was a cover for embezzling survey funds. Most of his unit didn't make it back."
"Let me guess," Brick rumbled, "the officers blamed equipment failure instead of admitting they sent men to die with faulty gear."
"Exactly. And our former royal guard couldn't stomach watching his brothers-in-arms die for some nobles' profit margins." Audi closed the file. "Hence the assault charges and dishonorable discharge."
Shadow finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Target's magical abilities?"
The employer hesitated for just a moment—so briefly that only professional killers would notice. "Academic research applications. Nothing combat-relevant."
Audi flipped through another section of his files. "We also have intelligence on the bodyguard - one Astra, former royal guard. Our contact in the military archives provided his service records. Water magic user, previously worked as mushroom farmer before joining the guard."
"Someone's selling military data now?" Raven's eyes sharpened with professional interest. "That's even more expensive than guild records."
"Mole in the Royal Military Archive Department," Audi explained matter-of-factly. "Career clerk with access to personnel files going back decades. Astra's complete service record, discharge papers, even his pre-military Adventurer's Guild registration."
Michael stopped cleaning his blade, looking disappointed. "Astra the mushroom farmer? That sounds incredibly boring. What's he going to do, grow us to death?"
"According to his military assessment," Audi read from his notes, "Astra demonstrated standard water magic applications for agricultural purposes before service. Enhanced crop growth, moisture control, soil conditioning. His combat record shows adequate performance but nothing exceptional."
"So Astra really is just some broken-down guard," Raven observed. "Water magic farmer turned soldier turned disgrace. No wonder the princess chose him - probably the cheapest bodyguard she could find."
"According to the assessment," Audi read from his notes, "subject demonstrated standard water magic applications for agricultural purposes. Enhanced crop growth, moisture control, soil conditioning. Typical farmer applications with no combat relevance noted."
"So he really is just some broken-down guard," Raven observed. "Water magic farmer turned soldier turned disgrace." She gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head, her gaze distant. "But it all smells fishy to me. A combat assessment with no combat notes? It's too perfect."
Brick grinned. "This keeps getting easier. Academic princess, farmer bodyguard. Like hunting sheep."
Michael giggled softly. "Academic magic users are boring. They never fight back properly. Just wave their hands around and hope something happens."
"That's because they're taught to apply magic like a lecture," Raven said, a hint of disdain in her voice. "A little bit of fire, a little bit of earth, a little bit of water. They've got the whole spectrum, but no real muscle behind any of it. Just a bunch of party tricks and theories."
"But the bodyguard might be different," Raven mused. "Dark Continent survivor, willing to assault superior officers over principle. That's not your typical broken-down ex-guard."
"Still just one man with a grudge," Brick dismissed. "Righteous anger doesn't stop steel."
"Bullshit." Brick's grin faded. "Academic researchers don't get five-assassin contracts. What aren't you telling us?"
Michael stopped cleaning his blade and looked at the employer with sudden sharp interest. "Are you lying to us? I don't like being lied to. Makes the hunt less fair."
Audi set down his spectacles and fixed the employer with a clinical stare. "Withholding information from operational assets increases failure probability exponentially. What specific magical capabilities should we prepare for?"
"That's the problem," the employer said, his smooth demeanor faltering for a moment. "Our intelligence is a blank page on the guard. The contract is on the princess's head; he's just an obstacle we're expecting you to overcome. There's nothing in the records about him beyond a name and a military discharge."
Raven laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Compartmentalized information. Corporate speak for 'I'm lying to you, but here's money to ignore that fact.'"
"The bodyguard," Audi continued, consulting his files. "Former royal guard with apparent combat disability. Assessment indicates minimal threat level."
"Guards don't get 'apparent' disabilities," Shadow murmured. "They get real ones or dead ones."
Michael's expression brightened considerably. "Ooh, maybe he's missing an eye! Or has a bad leg! Those are the best kind of challenges."
Brick cracked his knuckles again. "Injured guard is easier to crush. Why complain about good news?"
"Because easy jobs don't pay this well," Raven said flatly. "Someone's scared enough of this princess to hire all five of us. That means she's either incredibly dangerous or incredibly important. Either way, we're walking into more than we've been told."
The employer stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Your philosophical concerns are noted. However, the contract terms are non-negotiable. The princess dies during her expedition. Method and timing are at your professional discretion."
Mira stepped forward and placed a small silver bell on the table—so quietly that it barely made a sound.
"Communication device," the employer explained. "Ring it if you encounter complications that require... additional resources."
"And if we refuse?" Shadow asked.
"Then you leave with your advance payment and no hard feelings." The employer's tone suggested this was a perfectly reasonable option. "Though I'm confident professionals of your caliber won't allow personal concerns to override business opportunities."
Audi closed his portfolio with a satisfied snap. "Acceptable terms. I'll coordinate field reconnaissance and establish elimination timeline parameters."
"I work alone," Raven stated. "Always have. But I'll take point on identifying target vulnerabilities during travel."
Brick shrugged massive shoulders. "Smash jobs are easy. Point me at obstacles, I remove obstacles."
Michael practically bounced in his seat. "Can I have the bodyguard? Please? I promise to make it interesting. Maybe I'll let him think he's winning for a while."
Shadow simply nodded once and melted back into the darkness near the wall.
The employer moved toward the door, Mira falling into step behind him with mechanical precision. He paused at the threshold.
After they left, the five assassins remained seated, but the atmosphere had changed. The girl's presence had left something cold and unsettling in the air.
After he left, the five assassins remained seated, each lost in their own professional calculations.
"Anyone else think this smells like week-old fish?" Raven asked eventually, her eyes still fixed on where the girl had stood.
"That kid..." Brick shook his head. "Something's seriously wrong with her. Moved like a puppet on strings."
"Magical conditioning," Michael observed with disturbing clinical detachment. "I've seen it before. Someone broke her mind and put it back together wrong. Probably fun to watch." He paused thoughtfully. "Though I bet she'd be a boring hunt. No real fear response left."
Shadow emerged slightly from the darkness. "Employer's insurance policy. We're not the only weapons in this contract."
"Meaning?" Audi asked, though his careful notes suggested he already suspected.
"Meaning," Raven said grimly, "that little girl is there to make sure we don't survive long enough to spend our payment if things go wrong."
"All contracts smell," Audi replied, making final notes. "The question is whether the stench comes from the job or the client."
"Does it matter?" Brick examined his knuckles with professional interest. "Money spends the same either way."
"It matters," Shadow said from the darkness, "because fish rot from the head down. And we're swimming in someone else's pond."
"So we're doing this," Raven stated. It wasn't a question.
"We're doing this," Audi confirmed, closing his ledger. "But we're doing it carefully. And we're watching each other's backs."
"Since when do assassins watch each other's backs?" Brick asked.
"Since they started hiring five of us for one princess," Raven replied, standing to leave. "That's either massive overkill or massive desperation. Either way, we're all expendable the moment this job goes sideways."
Michael tilted his head thoughtfully. "But that's what makes it fun, right? The danger of being expendable? Makes the hunt more exciting."
"Kid's got issues," Brick muttered.
As the assassins filed out of the warehouse room, each carried more than weapons. They carried the professional certainty that they were walking into a trap—but the kind of trap that paid well enough to spring anyway.
In two days, Princess Roxene would begin her expedition into the eastern territories. She would bring one bodyguard, two servants, and academic research equipment.
She had no idea she would also be carrying five different death sentences, each crafted by experts who killed for a living and were very, very good at their work.