Amaranthine

Prologue

That atrous night was one that hid the efforts of all men, giving protection to the less virtuous of the sort. It was a time for the foulest members of the underworld to wreak havoc on the overworld without fear of retribution. There was no better time to be in the great city.

Granted, while there was not an abundance of free time to be spent wandering down those criminal streets and adding to the overall pandemonium, it was something one could admire on the way to where a nefarious task awaited him.

That one was called Strathmore, who was humming cheerfully at the dark ambiance of the city. During the daytime, the city masqueraded as some sort of haven, where sheep and wolves in sheep’s clothing got along swimmingly. At night, however, that false safety dissolved, showing the city as it truly was- a madhouse where the wolves ran free and preyed on the unsuspecting sheep.

It had been almost half a lifetime since he had learnt to see the city this way; nearly sixteen years had passed if his math was correct. Every moment of these last sixteen years had been nothing short of exhilarating. The years had shown him what he was capable of, and he was only just getting started.

Because of his determination, he was able to move swiftly through the ranks, earning the respect of others in his kinship. It was how he, with less than twenty years of service, was able to carry out such important tasks.

This task was not important enough to be called critical, but it was important just the same. Some man called Richard Mallory was close to exposing them which was simply unacceptable. Strathmore had been entrusted to eliminate this Mallory fellow and therefore protecting his kinship. It was something he felt deeply honoured to do.

Unfortunately, Strathmore would have to be careful while taking out Mallory. The man had a family which he had been specifically ordered not to kill, as his kinship simply wanted to make an example of him. There were rumours that he was not the only one close to exposing them. Mallory’s death would be a warning.

That’s what his elders had told him. Kill Mallory, and the others would be too scared to act.

Personally, he would have rather killed the lot of them than merely make an example out of one of them. He thought the others who knew of their existence would not hesitate to expose them if they made a move against only one man, but in the end, it was not his decision to make. His elders surely knew what the best course of action was. Such matters must have been difficult to settle with absolute certainty anyway.

At long last, Strathmore arrived at the Mallory house. It was plain, but seemed to be comfortable enough for the family of five. They were certainly better off, probably lower middle class, if he had to guess. He could imagine the head of the household engaged in some respectable profession involving money.

Richard Mallory was supposed to be afflicted with some illness that gave him headaches. An acquaintance of his had told the assassin that the man often had trouble sleeping because of it. If this was true, then luring him out of the house would prove to be no problem. If it was not true, then he did not doubt he could worm his way into the house and handle Mallory inside.

A slow grin spread across Strathmore’s face. This was going to be the loveliest night he’d had in ages.

Swiftly he crossed the garden and looked into the windows of the house. The first bedroom contained the two boys, both of whom were young adults. For a moment, Strathmore was almost grateful they would be spared. Young adults though they were, they looked too peaceful, too unassuming.

They reminded him of himself in his youth, before he had found the kinship which had opened his eyes.

They resembled the docile sheep which plagued the great city.