The Royal Painter

Red

The town was quiet apart from the odd scuttling of rats in the dark alleyways. Carved vegetables sat upon door steps with eerie faces alight as candles burned away into the night.

Aella's feet glided over the cobble stones as she made her way through the town that led onward toward the castle; rustic in comparison to Lunarath's castle, made of pure Opalian crystal dug in the mines of Drall. No, this, although finely carved, was made of condensed coal. Giving it a camouflage amongst the hills beyond. Though the pillars did seem to touch the heavens.

Aella, expected nothing less from the kingdom of the sun; Solaria.
As her thoughts shifted on, movement in one of the alleyways caused her to whirl round to its direction and crouch low. Palm down; only one. She felt the foot steps reverberating as a man walked toward her. Standing up with caution. Her hands moved gracefully over her uncomfortable peasant dress. Something she was very unaccustomed to wearing and pulled out a dagger from her skirt fold.

Despite being in this dress she could still live up to her name. Aella, Lunarath's Assassin.

The foot-steps ceased and she could barely see the outline of a man, just out of the faint glow the towns lights gave. And then, he pounced. Ripping through the air towards her. A glint of silver reflecting on the sword that he pointed straight for her chest.

"What terrible form," Aella murmured as she waited until the last moment before sidestepping him and using his own force against him as she kneed him in the stomach.

"Pathetic! I didn't even get to use my weapon! Who even sent you?" She leaned against a brick wall, obviously frustrated with the lack of amusement.

"Captain Hagan, Lady Sangre," he spluttered her ears perked at the name. "Told me to see if you're still in form for your next assignment," he put one hand on the cobbles and another supporting his probably bruised ribs as he stood.

"Well I would probably have arrived by now if it wasn't for this measly interaction," She grunted out as she picked her nails with her dagger. But her interests shifted when he took off his bag and offered it to her.

"What? For lil' old me?" She chimed as she opened it, only to find a bright array of water colours and other painting materials. She tried not to show too show to much emotion as she closed the bag.

"Why? I haven't completed the assignment yet," her voice softer now which made the man give her a small smile.

"It isn't a gift, Captain Hagan has altered your assignment by order of the king," his voice now lowered so much so even she had to take a step toward him. "You have until the summer solstice to kill the royal family, giving you 8 lunar cycles. But in that time you will take on the position of the royal painter." By the end of that her eyebrows were raised in dismay. Her fists tightened around her dagger and all her weapons that were stealthily hidden in and under her clothes suddenly started to feel like they were on fire.

"Why can't I just get it over and done with!" Her voice was enough to make the man flinch. Good. He should know whose presence he's in. "I'm an assassin, not a painter," her voice sounded like the low rumbling of a storm as her eyes looked abnormally dark even for this dim lighting.

"He wants you to gather information on what they are doing in the east, Lady Sangre," his voice was wavering by the end as he added honourifics in order not to anger the assassin any further.

"Tell him, that his royal high-ass will pay me triple what we originally agreed on," although her words could mean treason. Not even the king would dare face her. Not when she took out 63 of his best soldiers on the day of her 17th birthday and the day she was to be hanged.

She could feel his feet scuttling away like the rats in the sewers and alleyways. As she continued forward. Tightly holding the bag as if it was her freedom itself. Reaching the drawbridge and gates she walked up to the night-watch soldiers.

"Hello, I'm Maera, the royal painter," an elegant smile painted her face like a canvas as she bowed low and rose only to look seductively up into the soldiers' eyes.

One day she would break the oath she pledged to the king of Lunarath and finally be able to leave. Far enough away that the people who lived there wouldn't even know of the tongue she spoke.

Until that day, if being a painter is what it took. Then let the Gods and Kings watch, as she painted this castle red.