The Grand Illusionist
Ixion's mind raced for what seemed like an eternity as the guards dragged him away from where he had fallen. Everything in his mind was nothing to him but flames and writings in blood, all of which encompassing a laughter of evil. Even to the assassin, who stood in defiance to a Rune Mage in their natural home, he was afraid. Seeing himself being chased by a shadowy figure from his past in an endless burned him to his soul. I will not succumb to that monster, his mind thought, trying to wake up from this nightmare. The one thing he feared the most was what was to happen to him after death should he succumb to that nightmare. Then, his mind went blank and a scene played out in his mind.
One bright, glorious day in a day thought long forgotten, a merchant carriage of simple design barring the crimson canvas that covered the goods that were inside. The oaken frame creaked as the wheels turned in time of the hooves of the horses, varying in hair colour, towing the vessel towards an unmarked destination. Inside clanked with various metallic sounds, more often than not sounds of chains brushing against each other. With the guards that are around the carriage, some of them on horses while others were standing on the cart, it had looked protected. This had eased the mind of the merchant, holding the reigns of the horses for many hours. The thought to himself, with many forms of doubt, that with the guards that are protecting the carriage, he would be safe from any forms of attack from simple highway men. Especially if there were these kinds of men in Anaxim Forest while on their way to their destination.
Many hours later, while they were in the heart of Anaxim Forest, he decided to stop the party so they could get something to eat and drink. Hooves stopped and the wheels ceased to turn as they made camp. Everyone relaxed, with a couple of the guards still keeping an eye on their surroundings for when there are bandits ready to ambush them. A small campfire crackled to life and one man brought back a deer for them to cook for now and for their journey ahead. While the guards had been jovial in their mood, the merchant carried on inspecting the contents of the cart. Inside the crimson canvas there were precious metals of various shapes and sizes, their true colour tainted in the red light from the fabric above them. In various small boxes, with the merchant inspecting and making an inventory, were precious metals, ranging from blood-red rubies to the clearest of diamonds. Many of the stones in the cart, however, were sunstones, their orange sheen marrying with the crimson light. The merchant, after a painstaking amount of time counting everything, was satisfied with the inventory agreeing with his initial list and he turned to leave to get venison before the group carries on.
Just then, all hell broke loose as guards suddenly scrambled outside to grab their weapons. The merchant peered his head out of the cart to see two guards lying on the ground, knifes jutting out of their necks as their throes subsided. Just then, he caught a glimpse of the person who was attacking them. A black-clad man, youth showing in his face, cut swathes into the guards he had specifically chosen, though he was struggling with his opponents' experience in combat. The merchant grabbed a steel chain and wrapped his fist with it, waiting for the perpetrator to arrive to attempt to steal his goods. Much to what he was expecting, the man was unable to keep up with the onslaught for long and went for the cart to steal whatever was inside. The merchant chanted a couple of words and cast a small fireball at the gap in the cart, the ball of flame stunning the man as he peered his head in. Immediately after stunning the man, the merchant threw his chain-filled fist at the man's head, completely knocking him out. "Get this fiend tied up!" he barked, with what remained of his guards swarming their man. "I will teach this person some lessons before he dies."
Just then, Ixion woke up from his nightmare. His body was completely weak from what had affected him. His surroundings were completely... clinical, which were the only words he could think of to describe them. Maids walked about, getting clean water for those in need of it, with small moans in the air for those who were in a similar condition. His eyes continued to look in the area until his eyes fixated on the symbol. The scarab-like symbol of Reina was on a tapestry near one of the exits, leading him to believe that he was in a Church of Reina. One of the maids, noticing that he was awake, walked over to him. "Rest now, my child," she spoke, trying to calm the newly awoken assassin. "You had been poisoned. We did our best to remove the toxin from your system, but your strength will not return until a couple of days later."
"Thank..." He spoke before having a coughing fit, his throat still raw from earlier. He knew it would take some time for his throat to heal to the state it was earlier. The maid gave him some water to drink before disappearing out of the door. He closed his eyes during this time, opening one eye to see if she had left. When everything seemed quiet, he slowly got out of the bed, his muscles aching, and put his armour back on. He needed to get out of here for when the Ducal Guard caught wind of where he was, especially since it would be about this time that the murder scene in the merchant's building would have been discovered, and were on their way to the church to arrest him. Tying the cloth back around his face before putting his helmet back on, he stumbled to the window and climbed out of the building, stumbling to the ground once outside. Finally getting himself off of the ground, he moved as far away from the church as possible, his arms holding on anything to support him.