Noble Assassin

Prologue (Sharp Gifts)

The girl was excellent at hide-and-seek. The huge, bearded man - finely dressed - looked everywhere he could, but found no sign of her.

Finally, he stood in the centre of the hall and gave it a last survey. This was the elegant room wherein ceremonies were held, but most of the time, like now, it was empty except for him and his daughter.

"You can come out now. I give up; you're too good at this."

All he heard was a high-pitched giggle, muffled and untraceable.

"Well, if you won't, Rizelle, you'll never see the present I've got for you!"

There was a pause, then, "Really? You've got me a present?" One of the walls was made almost entirely of coloured glass panes. The curtain to one side of it shifted violently, and a little face peeked out from behind it - at the top of the drape. "If you're bluffing, you owe me."

Her father chuckled. It was just like Rizelle to climb three metres of silk. Being light and small, it was easy for her. She slid down, landing gently on the ground.

"Better not let Mamma catch you doing that." His wife would have seen him as the accomplice who encouraged Rizelle to be 'unladylike'. According to her, propriety was all that mattered; she wouldn't have even blinked at the destruction of expensive possessions, because the family was wealthy. "Come, and I'll show you something else she shouldn't see."

"So it's something I'd like, Dadda."

He smiled, and just then - speak of the devil - Rizelle's mother entered the room.

"There you are!" she said to her daughter, evidently flustered. "Come, your etiquette for tomorrow needs working on, and you must try on your dress and-"

"It's a lovely day, Tessyn," her husband interrupted calmly. "Rizelle and I were just about to go for a ride."

"Eonard, I must prepare her. She is an earl's daughter and should learn to behave so."

"Give the child a rest," Eonard said, stern and obstinate. "Tomorrow she'll be celebrating the twelve years of her life in which you've been grooming her. Isn't that enough?"

Tessyn looked as though she would argue further, but she only said stiffly, "I will have more to say on this matter later," and left in a huff.

Rizelle and Eonard went to the stables, where a servant readied their horses for them. The two rode off to the forest near their mansion, where the men of the household often went hunting. Rizelle would sometimes give Tessyn the slip and accompany them, or even explore it on her own.

They dismounted in the clearing Eonard occasionally utilized to practise archery.

"Are you giving me a bow?" she asked excitedly.

"Just wait and see."

He made her sit down and close her eyes. She listened carefully to his footsteps as he went to retrieve something from the hollowed-out tree somewhere behind her and returned to sit before her.

She heard the sound of a metal clasp opening, and her father said, "You can look now."

She opened her eyes and gasped at what lay before her. "Wow! They're amazing. Thank you, thank you, Dadda!" She hugged him tightly.

It was a small, skilfully crafted wooden chest with smooth edges and a golden clasp. In it, cushioned by thick velvet, was an array of brand-new, wickedly sharp knives: two long hunting knives and three minor knives. Each hilt was silver, and had an emerald studded into it, as green as her eyes. They all had their own sheaths, padded with thick black leather both inside and out.

Rizelle reached out to lift a blade, but he gently stopped her. "Not so fast, young lady. You'll first have to learn to use them without hurting yourself."

She groaned. "Why is everything always about learning?"

Eonard just laughed and handed her a box of cheaper knives. "Here. These have been blunted, so you're less likely to cut yourself. You should still be careful, though, or I'll never let you have the pretty ones over there."

"Yes, Dadda."

"And you should never, ever harm anyone - neither with knives, nor anything else." He was more serious now than she had ever seen him. "I am only teaching you so that you are able to defend yourself. Do you understand me, Rizelle?"

Uncalled for, a shiver ran down her spine. "Yes, Dadda," she repeated.

"Right." He helped her to her feet, his bout of graveness gone. "First, I'm going to train you in throwing them, because that needs less knowledge and more practice."

He took the smaller knives from the box, explaining the differences in their usage compared to the longer ones. Rizelle was attentive and eager to learn, despite her earlier words. When her father threw a knife at the target pinned to a tree as a demonstration, she admired his accuracy.

"Now you try." Eonard gave her a blade.

She tried to emulate his posture, and he corrected her where necessary. She took a long time to aim, trying to be as precise as he was. She threw...but missed the target entirely.

Rizelle didn't make a sound, just stared incredulously at the bushes into which the knife had disappeared, visibly disappointed.

Eonard laughed at her expression and placed an arm around her shoulders. "No need to look like that! You had the technique almost perfectly."

She moaned in response. "Oh, like the person trying to kill me is going to consider that and decide to pretend that I didn't just miss him by a yard!" she countered sarcastically.

He chuckled. "Well, I did tell you it takes practice." He gave her another knife.

She tried again, and again, and an hour and a half later, she finally struck the rim of the board.

Both the father and daughter yelled in delight and embraced each other tightly.

As they collected the knives, Rizelle grinned and thought of how ideal her life was right then, and hoped it would continue as it was, to the end.

Little did she know of what would actually happen.

She did not know that in a month, her perfect world would crumble.

In a month, her father would be dead.