10 Unsettling, Wild and Raw.  

The only thing that could be heard on that cold autumn morning was the wind blowing and rustling the leaves on the trees. The silence did not comfort, never did, it only lacerated the feelings of those who, by the misfortune of life, adopted it as one of their few companions. Sophie held back tears, tears that burned when held back. Showing weakness was something inadmissible for the youngest daughter of the Chasseur family, but she could not hide her feelings, not in front of that man. Von's embrace stunned her, showing her that her lack of emotional control made her unstable. Very different from the man who welcomed her into his arms.

Sophie had never seen him lose his posture, much less in an emotional crisis. Always decisive, always determined, he seemed unshakable. It was not only Von's touch that comforted her, but also his smell and the warmth he emanated to her, even though his skin was cold, touching it burned her.

At that moment, she was unable to see the assassin as someone she should look down upon or even kill. Her perspective on Von changed from water to wine as she saw in this man something that had not been seen in Cermina for a long time...honor. At that moment the stage lights were turned on, the masks removed, and the curtains opened. Von was worthy of serving the Chasseur family. The most painful thing for Sophie was that she had discovered all these feelings while in BloodHound's arms.

"My words will not erase your feelings. But I will always be here to wipe away your tears."

The words echoed in Sophie's mind. Her heart was beating wildly, she couldn't hide it, that feeling broke the silence. The feeling was so strong that it hurt. She was bewildered, breathless and unresponsive. She just sank into the darkness of Von's black hair, wanting to run away from what she was doing, wanting this closeness to be a lie. However, if time stopped at that instant, she wouldn't care, she would stay in that embrace until the day she died. Sophie wanted to disappear, to hide her shame under the ground. It frustrated her, she didn't want to appear weak, not in front of him. Instead, she just made them both lie down on the grass, sinking her head into Von's chest so that he couldn't see her crying eyes.

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Von couldn't remember the previous events. When Sophie threw him down on the grass, the only thing he did was stay close to her in silence. If necessary, he would be there for her. At some point Von closed his eyes, the brightness prevented him from leaving them open for long. But when he woke up, he was lying in the grass, alone. There was no trace of Sophie, he didn't even know if she had really been there, he didn't know how many hours had passed and he didn't know what time it was. He noticed that it was getting dark.

He looked up at the moon in the sky and rummaged through his pockets for his cigarettes. There were none. He let out a curse into the air and decided to go back to the mansion. It was a long walk there, Von would have no idea how to find the place if Norgard hadn't told him. But when he got close to the cabin-arsenal, a servant came towards him, as if he was waiting for him.

-The general wishes to speak with you. - He spoke, and Von immediately remembered Norgard's words as he walked quickly to the office.

"I thought it was the guns and food that held you here, but apparently it's my youngest daughter."

Would Norgard know about the kisses the assassin had with Sophie? Kisses were just kisses. Simple demonstrations of desire. That girl was beautiful, and yet he knew he shouldn't have responded to the pleas of that mouth, no matter how tempting the redhead's lips were.

His steps slowed as he caught sight of the office door. He wiped his hands on his pants as he realized he was breaking into a cold sweat. It had been a mistake, but he couldn't turn back; stopping would be the best option. He turned the knob and entered the room. He tried to decipher the green pupils of General Norgard, who was staring apprehensively at a pile of documents.

-I have a mission for you. - The general's arms were under the table, and his joined hands brushed against his lips. Norgard's gaze was confident, domineering, as if he knew all the steps the BloodHound had taken, both in the past and in the future. Von wanted to run away, he didn't want to stay in that house. That feeling was suffocating him, eroding the calm he was presiding over to maintain.

-I am not confident about Sophie's mission. - He began to speak and Von could feel his muscles relax. - Added to Sophie's mission was the execution of a Dendalian diplomat. I doubt that she has told him, but she is probably already infiltrating the embassy. - He watched him pause to drink the whisky that was on the table. - Your mission is to bring her home safe and sound. As a father, I must ensure my daughter's safety. So...don't fail.

-Ok.- Von listened carefully to every word spoken. Diplomat, Embassy, safe, sound, home. He repeated in his thoughts.

-Your clothes and backpack are in your room. There is a map inside it and the weapons you know where they are, take what you think you need. -

The assassin nodded in agreement, then turned and walked to the door. But the general spoke again, making him stop walking.

-Von, good luck. - Norgard, as he said this, brought a smile to Von's lips, a smile that he could not see. And that was the first time the BloodHound had smiled so spontaneously at its ''owner.

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When he arrived in his room and saw the clothes lying on the bed, the smile returned to his face. The black pleased him. Von loved the outfit he was looking at, including the mask that complemented it. White fang designs crafted the appearance of the mask, making it intimidating. The robes consisted of long pants with 6 dagger compartments on each leg. The upper part of the robes was composed of a long-sleeved shirt with swords hidden underneath the arrow designs drawn by the arm extensions. And to complete it, a hooded overcoat to hide the rest of his face.

Now that was a beautiful present.

He stopped analyzing his clothes when someone knocked on his door. After it was fully opened, he saw the maid of that day going to knock on the wood again.

-Mr. Von! - She bowed and held out a little black box. Von frowned, finding it strange. - The general is giving it to you.

- Hm. - He just took the small box and she bowed again, turning her back to him. As the young maid stood in the hallway, Von called out to her. - Hey...what's your name? -

-Angela, sir. - As she said this, she bowed her head and hurriedly disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

As he watched her disappear, he continued to stare down the dark corridor.

It was intriguing. Everything seemed so calm, so quiet. Without Sophie in the mansion the place looked different. But he would have to rescue the princess if the mission went wrong. The mission had changed and Von hoped she wouldn't need his help. He threw the box on the bed and went into the bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Her hair was growing, there weren't so many dark circles under his eyes anymore, he was gaining muscle mass and didn't feel hungry anymore.

All because of Norgard Chasseur.

He turned on the shower, the hot water falling on his muscles made him sigh. Would this really be free? His stay, his presence, his body, his work? Obviously not, his freedom was the price of it all, but deep down Von felt that the reason for being there was much more than just "use" of his skills for personal purposes. Would he be the same as Angela? Just any employee? What does freedom mean? What really is freedom? To be free to live that horrible reality that had embittered him all his life? No. Maybe the killer needed that. He needed to allow himself to be dominated so that he could remember and miss freedom.

Von could see the water running down his body, the hot steam covering the rest of his vision. He had a mission. Early tomorrow morning he would leave for the Dendalian embassy to watch and bring back Sophie Chasseur.

He finished his shower some time later, coming out with the towel wrapped around his waist and sitting on the bed. He was not sleepy, he had slept overtime, and what was worse, he had slept on the grass with Sophie in his arms. He automatically remembered the warmth of her body, her smell, as if it was a kit that went with that name. He couldn't describe it, but it was sweet. A cloying perfume, but still intoxicating. Of course it was intoxicating, he was drowning in himself when he was with her... when he thought of her.

But before the smile that broke out on his lips, the assassin noticed the movement of his soul. He thought about her too much. Norgard was right, it didn't seem to be his subordinate, but Sophie's. He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away, running away from the thoughts that were sabotaging him. He decided to go to a whorehouse before the mission, he needed to put his heart in order. But before he left, he saw the little black box. He picked it up and opened it. He smiled wryly as he saw the contents of the box.

Every BloodHound should have a collar.

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Upon arriving at the whorehouse, Von knew that he could have any woman that was there, since his services for the High Command were paid with a lot of money. But for his thoughts to return to normal, it would have to be someone extremely different from Sophie. There was no more Monick, he breathed in frustration. He sat down in a corner where no one seemed to notice him. He was dressed completely in black. Von camouflaged himself in the darkness of the whorehouse.

That's when he saw his "victim". She was tall and her hair was black, her eyes were blue, and she was wearing red lingerie. She was a typical prostitute, but he wanted her exactly because she looked nothing like the beautiful Cerminian assassin. He got close to the woman, and convinced her to accompany him.

What came next was only Von remembering his time of freedom. He led her out of the bar and leaned her against the wall. Sex in the street was always something even more pleasurable for the assassin who no longer had anything to lose. He just wanted to empty his thoughts through the pleasure of the flesh. With each movement from Von, the prostitute's face was blending with the memory of Sophie's face, until it reached the point where there was no longer any difference. Von believed for a moment that he was doing this to Sophie. Angrily he whispered the young Chasseur's name.

Von stopped the sex halfway through. He couldn't forget the redhead even if he tried. The prostitute's face expressed confusion and indignation, for she did not understand the reason for the interruption. The assassin threw the money on a crate next to them and left without justifying himself.

He really had to stop thinking about the General's daughter.

He woke up early, but set out late, he would arrive at the approximate time Sophie would kill the diplomat and flee the embassy. But he didn't understand, if she was such an experienced assassin, why would he need to guarantee her safety? Norgard didn't trust Sophie any more than she trusted him. Their lack of trust was hidden under the surface.

Contrary to what everyone thought, Cerminians were also ashamed.But it wasn't as much hypocrisy as in Dendalion, it wasn't an attempt to show himself perfect. After all, for Cerminians he was always there. Violence solved everything, power solved everything. The cruel was the divine, and those who did not accept it were heretics and died in the arms of weakness.

Cermina was all about the dark side of Verulian. The city-state had the power to wage war with any nation, including two at the same time. A Cerminian was just a naked man, not clad in ethical masks, he was the wildest part of being human. The strongest emotionally, Cerminians considered weakness the nation's greatest crime.

However, in the opinion of the rest of Verulian, the Cerminians were the most lacking in humanity. Humanity sees violence as a sign of weakness, an immoral, irrational and impulsive act. The Cerminians hide their humanity, even in front of a dead child. They did not believe in the illusory idea of peace. There will never be peace. The strong of spirit is the one who does not allow feelings like compassion to shake his sanity. It is not fighting for life, it is living for the fight. Fighting is what nourishes them, is what makes Cerminians stronger. Things are as they are: Unsettling, wild and raw.