The Rose's Thorn

Max slammed the hammer down across her blade. She smiled to herself as she remembered the words of her former partner.

Sickles are absolutely ridiculous weapons. You need something of substance.

She chuckled. Something of substance indeed. She pulled the weapon out of the forge, plunging it in a trough of icy water. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she extinguished the raging flames of her forge, roughly casting aside her leather gloves.

She picked up her newly made weapon, picking up a whetstone from her beautifully carved wooden shelf. She admired her handiwork as she sharpened the sickle, thinking to herself how good she was with a knife. She smirked, chuckling at her own joke. Of course an assassin needs to be good with a knife. She was much better with her sickles, though.

'MEL' The woman called to her younger sister. 'GET YOUR SKINNY ASS OVER HERE'

A young girl, roughly seventeen years of age, scrambled down the stairs, frying pan in her left hand.

'WHAT HAPPENED?' Melissa cried out.

'Nothing, just need you to mind the house while I go pick up a job.'

Her sister visibly paled.

'Y-you're not going to-'

Max sighed.

'Yes, Mellie, I know you don't like violence much, but I have to take care of us.' She said gently, patting her sister's head.

Melissa nodded

'Alright darling, off I go.'

She locked the door of their small hut as she stepped out. The world truly was unforgiving these days.

She wandered a bit before finding the meeting place. She snuck into a dark alleyway, overshadowed by the gray clouds hanging low in the air. Opening a small hatch in the side of the building, the young woman seemingly disappeared.

'Welcome, Miss Thorne.' A deep voice boomed in the darkness.

Max blinked several times, adjusting to the dim lighting.

'Enough pleasantries. Let's get down to business.' She responded curtly.

The voice chuckled cruelly.

'I love a woman who knows what she wants.'

She rolled her eyes as a man stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in an expensive looking tunic with tacky jewelry on every part of his body.

Max snorted. His fashion sense was bloody terrible.

The man gave her a small envelope. On it was a number. A very, very big number. Max raised an eyebrow.

'And this is..?'

'Open it. You'll see.'

She snapped the red wax seal with one swift motion, pulling out the yellowish parchment that lay within.

Her eyes scanned the letter briefly, skimming the part about her payment - a very generous amount of money - and skipped over to the part about the target.

The corners of her mouth curled up in a cruel smile.

Finally she had a good target.

A pampered, helpless aristocrat living in a castle she didn't deserve.

And her name was Lady Rose.