Kiori sat in his guild quarters, polishing off his sword and wondering when the guildmaster would call for him again. He was a well built man in his mid-twenties, strong but not bulky. His hair was dark brown and was kept short, and his eyes were even darker. One would usually expect a fighter to have many scars from his numerous battles, but this was not the case. Scars were for mercenaries, those brutes that would charge into a battle at a moment's notice, relishing the adrenaline rushes derived from chaos and brutality. In their reckless line of work, a scar or two was not uncommon. But scars meant mistakes, and assassins did not make mistakes.
With a sigh, Kiori put his sword away and laid down on his bed. The mattress was made just too his liking, not too soft, not too firm, and the sheets were of the finest silk money could buy. Indeed, at the snap of his fingers he could have any luxury his heart desired from fine wine to fine women. It wasn't a bad deal. All he had to do was get a little blood on his hands every now and then, but blood would wash right off. Still, Kiori wondered what his life would be like if he didn't have this power.
The door to his room opened. It was the guildmaster, the one man in the world who could enter his chamber without an invitation, or even a knock. The guildmaster was a pale, gaunt man. Most people would think that they could snap the man in half if they wanted to; they would be wrong. "You have a contract," he said simply and placed a piece of parchment on his dresser. There was no need for a briefing. Kiori knew how contracts worked, and he knew how to kill even better. Without another word, the guildmaster left Kiori to read about his new mark.
"Rylee Jamison," he read aloud, and then suddenly he stopped. He knew that name. "Rylee Jamison..." he knew her. He shook his head. No, it was just a name, a common name. The girl he knew wouldn't be stupid enough to desert a guild. Besides, even if it was her, this was his job. Kiori gathered his things together and prepared to set out. All he had to do was get a little blood on his hands, and that would wash right off.
With a sigh, Kiori put his sword away and laid down on his bed. The mattress was made just too his liking, not too soft, not too firm, and the sheets were of the finest silk money could buy. Indeed, at the snap of his fingers he could have any luxury his heart desired from fine wine to fine women. It wasn't a bad deal. All he had to do was get a little blood on his hands every now and then, but blood would wash right off. Still, Kiori wondered what his life would be like if he didn't have this power.
The door to his room opened. It was the guildmaster, the one man in the world who could enter his chamber without an invitation, or even a knock. The guildmaster was a pale, gaunt man. Most people would think that they could snap the man in half if they wanted to; they would be wrong. "You have a contract," he said simply and placed a piece of parchment on his dresser. There was no need for a briefing. Kiori knew how contracts worked, and he knew how to kill even better. Without another word, the guildmaster left Kiori to read about his new mark.
"Rylee Jamison," he read aloud, and then suddenly he stopped. He knew that name. "Rylee Jamison..." he knew her. He shook his head. No, it was just a name, a common name. The girl he knew wouldn't be stupid enough to desert a guild. Besides, even if it was her, this was his job. Kiori gathered his things together and prepared to set out. All he had to do was get a little blood on his hands, and that would wash right off.