Ra'venna eyes the red brick wall as it basks in the last rays of daylight. A wicked smirk takes over her face, her purple orbs glow with sinister intention. How foolish, the mercenary muses, to presume a simple wall can keep me out.
Guards are scattered about the outside and inside. They are use for little more than scaring off mischievous children and turning away angry mistresses. She watches as one flirts with a peasant woman carrying a bowed basket containing fresh flowers. The young girl twists a panel of her robe around her index finger nervously as she inches away from the insistent guard.
Finally, he is called away and the she wastes no time scurrying off. Ra'venna watches her until she melts into the crowd. It seems both the Count and the company he keeps are less than reputable. She glance at the sky taking note of the position of Tevata's two suns: Phebo and Solus.
She will wait until nightfall. The market should be cleared then. The crowd is thinning already, she notes. Tugging her violet cloak further over her head, careful to be sure her pointed ears are hidden, she sinks into the crowd. Unwilling to risk a creature realizing what she is, she slips into an adjacent alleyway, allowing the shadows to conceal her from sight.
Ra'venna stands against the chipped stone, witnessing as Kitsunes flitter in and out of the market. The final merchant rides away, pulling his unsold goods behind him in a carriage, as the last rays of day die.
The four moons are slow to rise this night. Of course, that could be because she is watching. The mercenary steps out from the shadows into a shaft of red moonlight. Chayone's seemingly angry body looms overhead, as if giving his blessing. She closes her eyes: I will not fail you.
Ra'venna uses the shadows of the desolate market as camouflage, until the only thing between her and the wall is a stone road worn from years of frequent travel. One of the guards walks past, his eyes trained on the trimmed grass, grumbling about his miseries. He passes past Ra'venna clueless. She waits until he reaches the arched entrance before bolting from her hiding place.
She runs up the wall, using her hands as leverage to pull her up. The bottom of her cloak swishes around her. Ra'venna grasps the closest protruding stone, testing its strength before trusting it with her weight and throwing her other arm onto the wall's summit. Pulling herself up, she kneels on the slim edge and scans the ground below. A half-drunk guard passes beneath her, taking a pause only for another swig of ale.
They are a disgrace. Ra'venna regards them with disgust. Then she remembers it is making this job easier than most. She lands with a muffled whoosh. Instead of running she simply strolls to the only other building on the property-a wooden shack. On the door is a diamond shaped sign with crossed swords inside. The guard's armory. Obviously for decoration rather than use. She climbs onto the roof, spreading her legs across the slanted roof, keeping a hand on the vertex so as not to slip and fall.
From here she has a clear view into the Count's bedchamber. He blocks out the candlelight as he paces back and forth. He repeatedly drives his hand through his hair, tugging at the shoulder length locks.
He knows his predicament after all.
In recent years the Count Heitsu of Cha'ol has taken to making a series of devious alliances and underhanded deals. They have caused him to fall out of favor with much of Asharia's nobility. It is a group of them that has brought her here.
Ra'venna notes that the Count has not passed in front of the candlelight. She waits a few more moments to be sure he hasn't paused or slowed his step.
Beneath the cloak, her wings twitch. She beats them together, using the momentum to thrust her forward. She catches the window's ledge and lifts herself up. She slides through the window into the poorly lit chamber.
The Count is hunched over his desk on the far side of the room, his heavily breathing and the flicks of the candle flame are the only sounds. Ra'venna carries herself across the floor, her boots do not produce any sound, but the panels beneath her feet whine under her weight.
The Count whirls around. The light glistens off the tear tracks on his cheeks. Their appearance doesn't appear to bother the intruder. He catches a glimpse of a loose, violet strand fallen from from her hood and shakes his head as he begins praying in his native tongue.
Ra'venna slinks forward, her cloak slithers around her, giving her the appearance of an otherworldly beast; a phantom.
"Please," he begs. He doesn't even stop to think if she understands Kitsi. "I will do anything. Please. I-I have a son. I have money. I can pay you double what they are. Please, spare me." He drops to his knees, shaking his clasped hands towards the sky.
Ra'venna stops before him and looks down at the pitiful creature before her. Without uttering a word she wraps a hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground. A familiar cold sensation floods her arm and hand. Smoky energy, the same shade as her hair springs from her fingertips and sinks into the Count's throat.
Instantly, he grapples at her hands, trying to tear her hand from his throat. The purple energy turns his skin black as it eats through it like a vile disease. His mouth open in a silent scream. The unholy power eats through his flesh and clothing. Long after his throat has become ash at her feet, her hand hovers over him, pouring more magic into him.
She closes her hand, drawing the purple energy back into herself. She rolls her neck, her lips twitching as the rush of his magic fills her.
Bending down she sweeps what remains of the Count into a velvet bag and ties it to her belt. She turns and vanishes from the Count's bedchamber leaving no trace she as ever there.
The Count's only child enters a few minutes later, calling for his father.
——-
She always has her contractors pay her in gold marked currency is useless out of its home country. Gold works anyone with the exception of Dragon countries.
The sounds of the revelry downstairs penetrates the thick stone walls. Allegro string music and a woman's melodic voice is drowned out by the cheers and slurred singing of obtusely drunk guests.
The Duke's birthday party serves as a cover for the Count's death and her arrival and leave-not that any of the guests down below will ever see her.
The door opens flooding the room with sound. Ra'venna visibly winces away. In the reflection of the mirror she can see the Duke closing the wooden door behind him. He whirls around, chuckling. His eyes land on Ra'venna and his face falls.
He fears her. The tremble of his hands, the shaky breaths that pass through his parted lips, the sweat gathering on his brow, and his hard swallows are evidence of this. Ra'venna allows herself to smirk, while running her fingers over the marble in a patternless motion. Fear remains her most useful tool.
"I have come for the second half of my payment." Ra'venna states. She lays her hand flat against the cool stone.
"Of course," he manages; his voice shaking. "I will need p-proof. T-that the dead is done." Ra'venna's steel gaze falls on him. He gulps. "Y-you under-understand." Without removing her gaze from the shaking man, she reaches down and unties the velvet pouch from her belt. She sets it down, causing a poof of dust to arise from the limited opening.
"Here is what remains of your Count." She strokes the back like one would a precious pet. "Would you like to see?"
"No!" He cries out. He clears his throat. "I-I mean no. Your word is enough." The left side of Ra'venna's mouth curls up.
"I'm glad to hear that. Now, my payment."
He reaches of the key in his pocket, his trembling hands cause him to miss the pocket several times. He pulls it out, showing it to Ra'venna who sits with her legs crossed over one another and a disinterested look on her face. He sticks the key into the top drawer of his desk. He shifts through it with two hands, whispering a victorious shout when he finds his prize.
"Your payment."
The Duke pushes the bag of gold across the marble top. She snatches it up and pries open the top to glimpse inside. The deal was simple she kills the Count and they will pay her gold. It could be gold bars, nuggets, unmarked coins as long as the right amount was present she couldn't care less the form. Gold can be traded for coin as she needs or for goods. It's not as if any creature would dare to question her.
Ra'venna pries open the pouch and peers inside. "You can trust me. I-I would never cheat you." She freezes and raises her head enough to glare at him.
"I trust no one. Trust will kill you faster than a blade." She says darkly.
"Of course." The Duke agrees, out of fear rather than a shared view.
After confirming all of it is there she pulls the strings shut and stands up, causing the Duke to jump. She makes her way to him. He tries to back away into the desk's edge. She stops before.
"It has been a pleasure doing business with you." The Duke looks up with wide eyes. It is not her words that shock him, but the accent that accompanies them; the one she had concealed up to then.
Etrien.
With one last cold glare she walks to the window and vanishes through the sheer curtains into the shadows of the night. A cold chill racks the Duke's body. He realizes the coldness, the darkness isn't her magic, it's her. Her very soul.
She is indeed:
The Dark Duchess,
The Nether Fairy.
A/N:
I have been vigorously rewriting Creatures of Fate and here are the results. I feel it is much better. I've added more detail as well as a few new characters. The basic storyline remains the same though.