Arcadia's Ignoble Knight: The Sorceress of Ashtown

Tour de Dorehan

If there was one thing that Dranor abhorred more than humans, it was dealing with humans. They were disgusting creatures, foul and loathsome, full of lust and greed, envy and hate. They encompassed every negative aspect of the world and none of the good. Not a single human he'd ever met retained any form of purity. All of them were stained, tainted beyond saving.

Never did these words ring more true to his ears than when he was in the presence of his employer.

His employer was the worst kind of human. Scum in every sense of the word. He was greedy, self-serving, gave no thought for others, had no sense of compassion, and was more than willing to condemn anyone who got in his way to death if it meant getting what he wanted.

He was also, most unfortunately, the only man willing to hire a couple of elves that had been cast out of their home after being branded traitors.

Sometimes, Dranor wondered if Alaya was punishing him for some past transgression that he couldn't remember.

"You failed."

Dranor bit his tongue to keep from verbally lashing out when he heard the accusing tone in his employer's voice. It wasn't like he could say much against it anyway. He had failed to assassinate Erica Angelo, after all. However...

"You assured me that she would be alone. Unguarded. That she would be vulnerable."

His employer sneered at him. "And she was alone. In case you haven't realized it yet, Derek had not been with her."

"And yet, when I had attacked her on that train as per the plan, not only did someone come to her defense, but they were also very skilled with a blade. They teamed up with Erica after taking out the twelve people I had sent into the train before coming outside and aiding her. Had they not been there, I would have killed Erica. As it stands, I was barely able to retreat with my life intact."

His employer's tiny irises squinted, and a frown marred his gelatinous features. Dranor almost shivered in disgust as the many chins on his employer's face wobble. Decadance did no justice to describe this slob of a man. He was, without a doubt, the most worthless type of human alive, though that wasn't saying much.

"You say there was someone helping her? Hm."

The man who paid Dranor's bills went into his version of "deep thinking," which consisted of him putting a hand under his six chins and staring at something beyond the viewing mirror's line of sight.

Dranor remained silent, knowing that it was best not interrupt, and not caring enough to interrupt even if he were so inclined.

"I do not think there is anything to worry about," the man said at last. "This warrior you speak of was probably just another mercenary, or maybe a wandering swordsman who just so happened to be on the same train as Erica. I doubt you will see him again."

"If you say so."

Dranor didn't personally believe these words. Gut instinct told him that he and the young warrior who had fought alongside Erica would be seeing each other again in the near future. He didn't say this to his employer, though. There was no need to cause an argument between them, and Dranor really needed the money this man provided him with.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, it is time for you to earn your keep." The gluttonous noble gave Dranor a smug grin as he leaned back in his posh chair. "Since you failed to kill Erica Angelo on the train, you'll have to kill her in her home. Your job is to infiltrate Dorehan Tower and assassinate her. I'll leave how you wish to accomplish this task up to you. Just know that if you fail me again, you and your mate will be back on the streets, begging for scraps faster than you can say Stelox Grove."