Reaching the Assassin's Path

He looks around the room, his eyes falling on the scrolls scattered across the floor. His mission was accomplished. He steps over the bodies, the blood sticking to his boots. He tries to convince himself that he had no choice, that it was necessary.

He went to Lemuel's corpse and used his sword to cut off his middle finger, from which a gold ring was hanging.

He took a rag out of his pocket and wrapped the finger in it. "That should be more than enough evidence." Aldwyn murmured to himself.

He left the building as quickly and quietly as he came, the weight of his actions weighing on him. The rain had stopped, leaving the cobblestone streets glistening in the moonlight. The silence of the night was now pierced by the distant toll of a bell, signaling the end of the curfew.

He went back the same way he came in to remain unnoticed. Then he hired a new carriage for which he paid another 14 bronze coins.

The driver looked at him suspiciously but said nothing as Aldwyn climbed into the carriage, the gold ring with the lopped finger still in his pocket. The carriage lurched forward, the wheels splashing through the puddles on the cobblestone streets.

The journey back to the 'Silent Seraph' was tense, the ring feeling like a burning coal in his pocket. He knew he had to be quick; the guards would soon discover the bodies and chaos would follow. He had to claim his reward before the city descended into panic.

When they arrived at the 'Silent Seraph', he stepped out of the carriage and immediately made his way to Caius' hiding place.

He descended into the sewers again, the water now up to his shins. The darkness seemed to press in on him, the only sounds being the dripping of water and the occasional splash of a rat. He felt a sense of déjà vu as he retraced his steps through the underbelly of Helgarde.

When he reached Caius' chamber, the mercenary was waiting for him, his red eyes gleaming in the torchlight. "You've completed your task," he said, his voice flat.

Aldwyn tossed the finger onto the table. "Lemuel is dead, and his apprentice with him."

Caius' smile grew cold, and he leaned forward, examining the grisly trophy. "Good," he said, his eyes never leaving the ring. "Very good."

Caius glanced over at him, "Very well, have a seat over there on the floor." He pointed to a circle drawn with chalk.

Aldwyn obeyed, his eyes never leaving the mercenary as he sat down, his boots squelching in the damp straw.

Caius began to explain the ritual. "To 'unlock' the Path of the Assassin, you have to fulfill certain conditions."

"The first thing is to make contact with the dead, or rather you have to kill someone. You must be aware about what you have done and deal with the consequences."

"The second is that someone that is already an Assassin has to judge that. Only when these two conditions are fulfilled, we can move on to the important part."

"I don't know how familiar you are with the Pathways, but every Path has a connection to the gods. It depends on which Path you choose, of course, but in the case of the Assassin, it's the God of Death."

"The ritual is basically a worship to a particular God. You pray to gain access to a certain Path."

"I have prepared a parchment and some utensils. I can't help you here, as each person has to complete this ritual alone."

Aldwyn picked the parchment up and noticed that it was a guide to performing the ritual correctly.

Next to him lay a pitch-black cloth, a small statue of the god of death, matchsticks with a pitch-black candle and a ritual dagger.

He memorized the instructions carefully and began the ritual.

First, he spread out the black cloth and placed the statue of the god of death in the middle. Then he lit the candle and placed the ritual dagger next to it.

He knelt in front of the statue of the God of Death, closed his eyes and concentrated on the statue.

Then he began to recite a phrase.

"God of death, I call upon you this night. Show me the way of the shadow and let me gain the powers of an assassin. I accept your gift and I am ready to receive your teachings."

He lifted the ritual dagger and spoke an oath proclaiming his desire to gain the abilities of an assassin.

"Through the darkness and by your will, I will take on the abilities of the shadow."

He opened his eyes and remained silent while he observed the candle until the flame turned black. That would be the sign that the God accepts the request.

After the flames turned black, all Aldwyn had to do was express his gratitude. "Thank you for the strength your generosity has given me."

He blew out the candle and the ritual was complete.

Caius nodded, "The power of the Assassin is now yours," he said, his voice low and solemn. "Now you are a Stage 1 Assassin, a Shadowborn. Your body has to get used to it first, you will see the first results in a few days, such as increased reflexes or sharpened senses."

Aldwyn felt a strange energy coursing through his veins, a mix of excitement and unease. He knew that he had taken a significant step, one that would change him forever.

Aldwyn turned to him and asked, " If I want to move up a stage, how do I do that? I have some information about stage 2 and 3 of the assassin Path, but how exactly do I move up?"

Caius hesitates briefly before answering. "You simply have to perform the same ritual again. With the difference that this time you pray for an ascension. Of course, you'll need the name of the stage, which makes it complicated sometimes, since some are unknown."

'But of course you can't climb immediately, otherwise I would have been able to do that already. First of all you have to perfect the stage, as soon as you think you have done that you can start the ritual. But you should definitely be absolutely sure, otherwise the ritual will have consequences."

"At the beginning they are relatively acceptable, but still sufficient as a warning." Caius raised his hand and pointed to his missing ring finger. "This happened to me, so if you can't move up from stage 1, you'll lose a finger. For higher stages the price is of course bigger, it can even lead to direct death."

Aldwyn looked at him surprised, he didn't know all these details, it was like a completely different world for him. "Why exactly is this happening?"

Caius took a few seconds to reply. "No one really knows, we're talking about gods after all. It is assumed that they punish anyone who does not carefully honor their gift."

Aldwyn nodded thoughtfully, taking in the gravity of his newfound powers and the potential cost of their misuse.

„So that means I have to master my skills before I can move up. It was obvious that it wasn't that easy, otherwise there would be far more high-class individuals."

"Thank you, Caius. I'll be careful with what I've been given." he said finally.

Aldwyn took his leave and left Caius' chamber. As he emerged from the sewers, the tavern lights looked distant and cold, the cobblestone streets of Helgarde reflecting the moon's glow. The city had returned to its usual nocturnal rhythm, as if the screams and the spilled blood were nothing more than whispers in the wind.

Aldwyn's thoughts raced as he made his way through the city, feeling the power of the Assassin's Path coursing through him.

„I've finally managed to 'unlock' the Assassin Path. First of all, I don't need to worry, because I have both the stage 2 and 3 names. However, I have to be very careful with the climbs, I don't want to risk any punishment."

As he approached the Inn, the 'Silent Seraph', the warm light spilling from the windows seemed to beckon him with the promise of refuge from the dark night's work. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, the brass handle cold under his touch. The tavern was mostly empty, save for a few patrons nursing their drinks, lost in their own contemplations. The barkeep looked up, nodded in recognition, and returned to wiping down the counter without a word.

Aldwyn made his way to the stairs, his boots heavy with the weight of what he had done. The room he had rented was simple but adequate, the bed a welcome sight after the adrenaline of his mission had begun to wane. He removed his cloak and sat on the edge of the bed.

„What should I do now? My original goal was to discover more about my past and what my purpose in this world really is. For that I needed strength, which I have now."

„Since I've been here, I've found myself in a lot of strange situations. The issue with the Duskbringen, Fabienne's death, as well as my 'visions'."

„I have the feeling that the woman with the red eyes and the Duskbringer may have answers to my question. I wonder if another 'Vision' would give different results now. I should be stronger now, after all."

„Maybe I should visit the scholar one more time tomorrow, the result might actually be different, at least I should try. In the worst case, I'll look for another activity until I'm strong enough."

Aldwyn was a little exhausted, so he stopped thinking about things. The ritual had apparently drained his energy.

....

The next morning dawned with a pall of gloom, the sun's rays struggling to pierce the thick clouds that hung over Helgarde like a shroud. Aldwyn awoke, he felt different, as if the very fabric of his being had been altered by the ritual. His reflexes were sharper, his senses more acute. The scent of the tavern's breakfast offerings wafted up the stairs, but his stomach was in knots. He had killed in cold blood, and the taste of it was still bitter in his mouth.

He descended the stairs, his boots sounding heavier than usual on the wooden steps. The tavern was bustling with early-morning activity, the smell of roasting meats and sizzling eggs filling the air.

Breakfast was a silent affair, his thoughts too tumultuous for small talk. He took a seat in a corner, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble or recognition from the previous night's events. But the patrons paid him no mind, lost in their own worlds.

After a meal of stale bread and a cup of bitter tea he had spent 6 bronze coins on, he left the "Silent Seraph" with a firm decision.

On one of the streets he saw a paperboy, huddled under a tattered cloak, his voice echoing through the early morning fog. "Latest from the Herald! Get your morning news!"

Aldwyn approached the boy, the coins clinking in his pocket. He bought a newspaper for 2 bronze coins, the weight of it surprisingly comforting in his hand. The headline screamed of the murders at the university, the words 'Heretic Slayer' etched in bold, dramatic letters. He scanned the article, his heart racing as he realized the implications. The city was already searching for the culprit.

The political turmoil of Helgarde was laid bare in the pages of the newspaper. The struggle for power between the nobility and the clergy was reaching a boiling point, with the common folk caught in the middle. Protests and unrest were brewing, with whispers of a revolution simmering beneath the surface. The article spoke of the recent unrest in the slums, the very same place where Graeham had tried to organize a protest that Aldwyn had used to his advantage. It seemed his actions had been a mere spark in a tinderbox of dissent.

With a sigh, Aldwyn folded the newspaper and tucked it into his pocket. He had to be careful. The last thing he needed was to be linked to the murders.