"Yan…Yan?" A voice echoed silently through the brick walls of the Grand's chamber of Mort mansion. Shrin the maid searched carefully, bending her body as if looking for a lost cat, a hint of worry tightening her chest.
"Yan, where are you? Grand Ersi is looking for you." She called out again, her voice slightly louder this time, laced with urgency. She searched the corners of the kitchen, laundry area, library… all the places where Yan used to hide, but she wasn't there. Shrin paused, hands on her waist as she caught her breath, frustration slowly creeping in. "Where is that girl?"
She wiped her sweat as she looked at the old willow tree just across the old pond. There she is…Yan, lying on the tree's branch, 5 meters above the ground. Her arms and legs drop while she stares blankly at the leaves of the old tree, her expression distant and unreadable.
Shrin walked slowly. She was so tired that her body couldn't straighten up, her legs aching with every step.
"Yan… I've told…you not to...wander…around." Shrin called out to her from below, still catching her breath, half annoyed, half relieved.
Yan heard her but didn't flinch, lost in her own thoughts.
"You're so high up, come down now. Grand Ersi is looking for you." Shrin called out again.
Yan immediately jumped down at the sound of Grand Ersi's name. Her swift movement shocked Shrin, causing her eyes to widen as fear flashed across her face. Yan looked at her shocked face, immediately regretting doing that in front of her, a familiar caution settling back into her bones.
Sometimes she forgets to hide her abilities whenever she is shocked. And Grand Ersi is the only one making her jump out of control the past few weeks, the old woman's presence strangely powerful over her.
Yan awkwardly smiled at Shrin, who was looking suspicious of her, trying to appear harmless.
Shrin looked at the branch of the willow tree where Yan jumped from. "You know, you really should stop wandering from now on. I've told you that Lord Azron's generals come secretly here sometimes." She warned Yan again, unease clear in her tone.
Yan nodded and followed her as she walked, keeping her head low.
On their way to Grand Ersi, Yan stared at Shrin's back. It was many times that Shrin saw her do some stunts that no normal maiden could do. Sometimes Shrin wonders why Yan acts so differently from any other young woman, and even dresses like a man, but she never confronts her or reports her, choosing silence over suspicion.
Shrin's parents were servants of the Morts, which makes her a servant by birth. Of all the maids of the Grand Ersi's chamber, Shrin was disengaged, of which Yan was thankful that she was left to her guidance. Shrin's character somehow makes Yan feel at ease inside the Mort's mansion, a rare sense of safety she was not used to.
…
Yan
It's been five months since I arrived in this strange place. So strange that I almost thought that I got myself trapped inside some video game like those I've read in Master Lin's novels, the thought was almost absurd yet unsettling. But this is not a game.
There is no magic here, just an ordinary place filled with people who seemed to be a hundred years in the past, but I was sure this past was never written in my country's history, a reality that left me uneasy.
After Master Lin's death, I remember I was at the airport to fulfill her wish for me to experience living an ordinary life, a promise heavy with emotion. A life without a contract, a life without having to kill someone. I am going to an island to hide from everything and everyone.
I was an assassin. That has been my way of living since I was released from the training prison, where I was kept since I was 5 years old, along with a bunch of little girls my age, children molded into weapons. I never knew a life without a weapon, a life without watching my back. Who would have thought that a killer like me, who was haunted by the families of all I've killed will get to relax on an old willow tree without minding the dangers to come, if only for a moment.
The memory is still clear in my head. I was on my way to the airplane, pushing my luggages but when I entered the plane, everything around me changed. I found myself in a forest. I let go of my luggages shocked by what was happening, panic surging through me. I tried to inspect and prepare myself for what danger was coming for me, thinking maybe it was pulled by one of my enemies, but as I took my knife hidden in my waist, a bright light took over my face, blinding me. It was so bright that my head throbbed with pain, and then I collapsed, helpless against the unknown.
When I woke up, I was already in a wooden carriage, with three men in bloody armor surrounding me. Their hair was long and wet with blood. I assessed the situation, and my survival instinct stepped in, cold and automatic. I haven't met men like these before; they are not like the ones I had fought. They were huge, and the cuts in their bodies made it obvious that they were not ordinary men. Without knowing the situation I am in, I could not challenge them in a fight to escape. So, I pretended to still be unconscious, choosing patience over recklessness.
One of them is seriously injured. One man is stopping the bleeding while the other seems to be watching me. But his eyes were focused on the injured man that he didn't notice I was already awake. The movement of the carriage made the man groan in pain. Though he was trying to control himself from screaming, I knew that he was suffering, the sound tightening my chest. That wound should be stitched soon, or he'll lose a lot of blood.
"My Lord, I am afraid I am not going to make it," said the injured man as he held the arms of the man in blue armor.
"We're almost home, Dan. Hang in there." Said the man near me. Those two were both wearing red armor, which means the one in blue must be their commander. But why did he call him Lord? Wait, where am I? I thought to myself, still trying not to gain their attention, unease growing with every second. As an assassin, I was certain that the blood on them was real, and the thought of it being a dream didn't cross my mind.
The man in blue armor held the injured man. "I order you not to die." His voice was so deep that my senses heightened like a real danger was near me, sending a chill down my spine. I dare not move. Although I am tagged as the angel of death, feared by other assassins, challenging this beast, who has a build I never seen before, will not be easy.
He was still pressing on his wound when I heard someone scream outside. "Ambush!"
The other man in red exited the carriage. I heard swords clashing outside, but I still didn't move, my heart pounding violently. Am I in real combat? What is happening outside? I was still pretending to be unconscious despite the screaming when an arrow was suddenly shot in my direction. My hand was able to catch it before it hit me. But as I opened my eyes, the man in blue armor swiftly raised his blade towards me. I immediately attempted to stand up to defend myself from his attack but he stopped my movement by pinning me to the floor. He placed his blade to my neck, ready to do a slash while he was above me.
Blood from his hair dripped on my forehead as he knelt above me. He is so powerful that when I tried to loosen his grip, I couldn't; the pressure crushed my breath.
Our eyes locked. His green eyes fixed on me like sharpened glass, cold and unblinking. There was no rage in them—only certainty. The kind that comes from a man who had ended lives without hesitation and would do so again without regret. The stare was a warning, silent yet unmistakable: one wrong move would be my last, and he knew it.
But I didn't flinch; it wasn't the first time that I had encountered such a threat. None of my enemies before was able to get close to me like this. Though my head is still in pain, I was still able to point the arrow in my hand at his neck. If he is going to kill me, I will surely do so to him, even if it costs me my life.
The fight continued outside as he was still pinning me on the floor.
"My Lord, we're surrounded." A voice called out outside to the man pinning me down.
He lowered his head to my face. "Don't let him die or I'll kill you." He lifted his blade and exited the carriage, his presence leaving behind a suffocating silence. I peeked through the window to see the situation outside. I was shocked to see hundreds of men fighting using swords, spears, and arrows. I froze at the sight, overwhelmed by the brutality. Did I travel back in time?
I assessed the situation to see if I could manage to escape. I planned to exit the carriage to make a run, but the pain in my head tells me I can never manage to escape far, a dull ache pulsing with every thought. The chaos outside will surely catch me, and I know better than to gamble blindly with my life.
I looked at the injured man, who was half unconscious. He was tall and broad, wearing ancient red armor stained with dark, dried blood. The metal was scratched and bent from battle. His long, curly hair fell around his face, messy and wet with sweat, yet he was still handsome despite the dirt and wounds, carrying the presence of someone who had seen countless battles.
He was clearly weak, his breathing slow and heavy, but his eyes were strong. They showed courage and determination, as if his spirit had not been hurt at all. Even while wounded, he looked like a soldier who would not give up easily, and something about that steadiness stirred a quiet respect in me.
He seems to be an important man. If I treat him, maybe that man in blue armor will not kill me, a calculated risk, but one worth taking. I searched the carriage for some supplies, and luckily, I found one of my luggage in the corner. They brought my luggage, but where are the other 3 of them? I surely remember there were four, the missing pieces nagging at the back of my mind.
I opened my luggage. Fortunately, this luggage has my medical supplies. As an assassin who gets injured most of the time, I always bring medical supplies whenever I travel, a habit ingrained by years of survival.
The man looked at me as I prepared my things to stitch his wound. His eyes followed my every move, alert despite his weakness. "What… are those?" He said with the strength left in him. I didn't answer. I must not say a word, or he will ask more things from me, and questions here are far more dangerous than silence.
I removed his breastplate to fully see his wound. Blood gushing out from it. Luckily, there was no organ damage. He was just weak from the blood loss. I put on some gloves, ready to perform the stitch, my hands steady despite the tension tightening my chest. I injected some lidocaine so he doesn't scream. He watched my hand stitch his wound. His eyes filled with curiosity. "I don't feel anything." He looked at me as I closed up his wound, as if witnessing something beyond his understanding.
The sound of weapons clashing outside stopped as I finished bandaging the wound, an eerie silence settling in its place. The man in blue armor entered the carriage and looked at us. His sword is red with blood and sweat dropped from his face, his presence heavy and suffocating.
I held my dagger in my waist, ready to protect myself if ever he attacks me again, muscles tense and ready to react. Thankfully, my dagger is still there. He walked closer to us and looked at his injured friend. "How are you feeling?" He asked with his eyes diverted at me, sharp and assessing.
"I'm better, Lord Azron. This woman has some skills."
After that incident, I was able to survive my first day in this place, though survival came at a cost. Lord Azron made me take care of his wounded warriors as we traveled to Mort City. Throughout the journey, I didn't utter a single word. They thought I was mute, so I pretended that I was, letting silence become my shield.