22 His Gaze

The Master stood calmly at the corner of his balcony observing Atila. At this distance he could barely make out her expressions as she came upon the chest. He had observed her here and there from his perch. He found himself coming to this spot more and more. He kept telling himself he only needed to check her progress. However, he often caught himself looking at her graceful yet strong frame instead of her movements.

Her hair brushes gently against her face as she bends down to find the key. Even though he knows what the chest contains, he subconsciously holds his breath as he waits for her to open it. Her hands tremble slightly as she turns the key. The lid lightly bounces up to finally reveal itself to Atila. Will she understand what it contains? She feels the weight of its gravity. Her father's early death chased what he hid.

The smell of old parchment drifted up towards her nose. Carefully folded recordings of black market transactions were stashed next to a small handful of tokens. As she sifted though the tokens, she recognized several enemy signets. A flashback hit her of her father showing her sketches of them. He had her memorize them before burning the rough pictures. She realized he had been trying to warn her without alarm. An unknown token was as dangerous as a recognized enemy.

As she came to she reached for the parchments. Her eyes swiftly consumed the writing until they hit the signatures. Several elders were among the list. It appeared that they had made secret agreements with known enemies. The rest of them she could only guess were no less amiable to their gathering. The Master watched as she slowly lowered herself to the ground. He knew what she had realized. Deep down his heart mourned with her, as well as felt the fire of revenge. Atila's head raised and eyes turned to see his figure. She couldn't make out his face but felt his gaze touch her.