Chapter 3

"I was born ready."

Those words caressed Ryiah's mind like the softest velvet. That smooth and rich voice, yet dark and dangerous. The voice she loved so much.

It was like an echo from the past when everything was fine.

"Griffin."

Ryiah uttered her companion's name half-conscious as she tried to lift her head, but it felt heavy, earning her to groan. Something was trickling down from her temple, covering her left eye as she tried to look around her. The pain made her wince, but Ryiah forced herself to open her eyes.

A shadowy figure loomed two feet away from her, but Ryiah couldn´t see clearly who it was. The throbbing pain in her temple prevented Ryiah from focusing. Swallowing thickly and licking her dry lips, she tried one more time to concentrate on her surroundings when a fist came into her view just before it contacted her face. The punch was strong, causing Ryiah's head to swing backwards.

Darkness took hold of her again.

"Stubborn girl," Bernand muttered, looking at her.

Turning around, he went over to the small wooden table that stood in the corner next to the iron door. Viking style axes and ropes lay on the table with some smaller knives. Bernand lifted the axe and took the ropes while looking at the sharp blade before shifting his gaze on Ryiah.

"Father Silverius ordered me to make an example out of you. I am not enjoying doing this, but orders are orders and if anyone can relate to that, it is you."

Bernand walked toward Ryiah, and kneeled before her, glancing at the shining blade and then at Ryiah, wetting his lips. He let his gaze wander over her. Putting the axe down, he took the key to the shackles and reached for the lock on her wrist. Bernand freed Ryiah's right arm first and shifted to free her left arm.

"You assassins are supposed to be the church's greatest ally to protect the Faith of Valor and everything it represents. Not attack it."

Bernand huffed, unlocking the shackle from her left arm, and straightened up. He looked at Ryiah falling to her side from a sitting position on the floor. He was a firm believer in Cian´s ways and teachings and has read every single scroll and took in the Faith completely.

For him, there was no other way of living. His parents were true believers and protectors of the Faith and so were their parents before them.

Thousands of years ago when the first servants of the Faith appeared, God Cian´s words were to respect life in all its forms and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

They believed it when a human died; they turned into a holy spirit and their families would honor them, giving offerings to their graves for the next four years until the spirit would move on and reincarnated.

But if someone had done foul deeds in their life, their soul would travel into the Underground Realm of River Vimuer, doomed to flow there for eternity, not able to reincarnate. That is why the House of Valor was created. To serve the people and protect them, guide them for a better path in life and the afterlife.

Although Cian was in the eyes of the church the one and only God, there were three other Gods common folk sought for guidance. In the countryside, people worshipped the Sun God Lleu who gave their fields light, helping the crops to grow. Small shrines that were built in the countryside were a sanctuary for priestesses who worshipped the Moon God, Niamh and Muiren the Sea God.

But over the centuries, the House of Valor rejected the other three gods, forbidding anyone to worship them because they were lesser gods and not worthy of their attention. Nowadays, very few people remembered there even were three other gods besides Cian and they kept it tightly to themselves, not wanting to have the wrath of the House of Valor upon them.

Priests turned to Cian´s teaching for their benefit, telling people they could reincarnate after they die even if they had done bad things. All they needed to do was to give valuable offerings to the House of Valor who took them and delivered the offerings to God Cian. They could buy their place in the afterlife.

"But it matters not. Your days are over. Father Silverius will find someone else to take your place, he always does." Bernand muttered to himself as he bent down and tied Ryiah's hands behind her back with the rope.

Then he tied her ankles together and, with some effort, hoisted her on his right shoulder. Taking the axe from the floor, Bernand turned to head out of the dungeon toward the exclusive backyard. They allowed no one to enter without a permit. For outsiders, it was told the yard served a purpose as a private meeting area when the priests and high priest gathered to discuss delicate matters, but a few who worked at the inner circle for the high priest knew it was a place where the henchmen got rid of people who had become too dangerous for the Faith.

No one talked about it; they have simply turned their heads the other way, becoming blind to the crimes, fearing if they did something or said something they would disappear too or worse; their families.

It was a risk no one wanted to take.

A scowl on his face, Bernand scurried through the long corridor, only dim lights on the ceiling illuminating his path toward the courtyard. Climbing the stone stairs, he pushed the wooden door open with his left shoulder and stepped out into the yard.

The church's stone walls surrounded it and at the back grew three huge Shrine Willows with crimson red leaves sheltering half of the yard from any peering eyes.

Fixing his grip on Ryiah, Bernand grunted, approaching the spot between the willows. Silently praying for forgiveness from Cian, he mentally prepared himself to do what they expected from him.

Bernand didn´t enjoy taking a life, but it was his job, and he did it without complaining. Halting in the middle of the trees, he kneeled laying Ryiah on the ground on her side and for a moment took in her features. She was pale, and the dried blood stained her face. Gently wiping her hair out of her face and exposing her neck, Bernand sighed heavily while closing his eyes.

"I am sorry, hope you can forgive me."

Standing up, he placed the blade on Ryiah´s neck, calculating the angle and the force he needed to use and then lifted the axe high above his head, ready to strike.

"Bernand!"

A male's voice from behind stopped him from giving the fatal blow and lowering the axe. While turning around, he saw one minister standing in the doorway, looking at him.

"What is it?" Bernand asked, annoyed about being disturbed.

"Valentianus wants to see you right away."

"I´m a bit busy at the moment."

"He said it's urgent."

The minister announced, ignoring the unconscious woman at Bernand´s feet.

"Of course it is. It always is." Bernand said mockingly while rolling his eyes. He looked at Ryiah on the ground, pondering his options. She should stay unconscious for a while since he gave her quite a powerful punch to the face. And even if she came around while he was away, there was nowhere she could go, she was tied up and unarmed. She would be trapped in the courtyard.

"Fine," Bernand grunted, turning his back on Ryiah, and walked toward the door taking the axe with him. He wasn´t happy about the interruption, but because Valentianus was a highly respected man, Bernand didn´t have a choice but to obey when the order came.

In this church, there was one High Priest, Father Silverius, and under his command worked five priests whose responsibility was to be matrimonies, giving guidance to the people who seek it and prepare the dying person's soul for the journey of the afterlife.

Father Silverius had also three ministers working for him, and they were responsible for the booking and receiving the offerings for the God Cian.

"Bloody high born and their oh high and mighty attitudes," Bernand grunted, stepping back inside the staircase, closing, and locking the door behind him.

"Lead the way," he nodded to the minister who descended the stairs, guiding Bernand through the maze-like dim corridors toward the private wing of the church on upper levels where priests and ministers had their living quarters and meeting rooms.

They walked through another door, stepping into a long corridor, and Bernand followed the minister, saying nothing.

He glanced up, seeing crystal chandeliers above the ceiling and tall granite pillars on both sides of the hallway. Magnificent murals covered the entire walls and the ceiling, painting a picture of the ancient gods and their followers. For a House of Valor, it looked almost royal to him. The minister heard his scoff and glanced over his shoulder, seeing Bernand had slowed down, falling behind.

Bernard noticed the warning look the other man gave him and gritted his teeth silently, settling on walking behind the minister.

Footsteps echoed in the halls as both men approached a white, wooden double door at the end of the hallway. Bernand saw from the corner of his eye another staircase on his right as he passed a short corridor and remembered it led to the living quarters. He had been there only once, and that was enough because it showed the deep gap between the common workers and the High Priest and his underlings.

Bernand said nothing, but he suspected ministers paid for their living quarters with the offerings they got from the people who visited the church and wanted to assure their place in the afterlife was guaranteed.

He wasn´t sure if Father Silverius knew about it or was he under the impression the ministers had their own money which they used as they saw fit. In Bernard's eyes, Father Silverius was a righteous man who didn´t abuse his status and tirelessly tried to teach Cian´s wisdom to the public. He also thought Father wouldn´t order such a cruel fate upon the female assassin's head if he wasn´t sure she was a threat to the Faith.

A sudden stop nearly made Bernand bump into the minister, who knocked on the door waiting for permission to enter. They heard a muffled reply, and the man placed his hand on the handle and opened the door.

"Evening, Valentianus. The henchman is here to see you as you requested." Minister spoke, bowing his head when he entered the room, and Bernand saw the named man standing at the window, hands behind his back, looking outside. He was tall and slender, carrying himself elegantly as he turned slightly his head when he heard someone speaking.

Valentianus slowly turned around, letting his gaze lazily settle on the two men at the doorway. Bernand returned the gaze briefly before lowering it, keeping his gaze on the floor. He recognized a nobleman when he saw one.

Valentianus wore a long-sleeved, dark green silky jacket that covered him to just above his groin and buttoned up at the left side, sleeves of his jacket were wide and reached down to his wrists and were decorated with several thread linings from top to bottom. The jacket had a wide, round neckline which revealed part of the stylish white shirt worn below it and was worn with a dark leather belt, which was held together by a golden ornate pin. The leather belt was purely decorative and a sign of wealth. His black pants were simple and a little narrow, reaching down to his hide boots. The boots were made from a fairly uncommon hide but were otherwise ordinary design.

His long, blond hair was tied into a pony's tail and his steel-grey eyes could cut through iron with such an intense gaze.

"Thank you, Patrick. You can go." Valentianus smiled, waving his hand, dismissing the minister, and waited until he was alone with the henchman. The door closed behind Bernand, and an uncomfortable silence settled between the two remaining men in the room. Bernand could feel the gaze burning a hole in his forehead, but he refused to look up. Something about this man caused him to shiver.

Valentianus was one of the wealthiest men in Carran, but also the most dangerous man and someone no one wanted to anger if they had any sense. Even Father Silverius bowed to him. He had nothing to do with the Faith but often people saw him in the House of Valor whenever he needed a favour. And that is why Bernand figured he was there because Valentianus needed one from him. But he wasn´t sure if he wanted to know what it was.

"Sit."

Valentianus motioned toward the chair that was placed in front of his desk and watched how Bernand timidly looked up and, swallowing thickly, approached the chair sitting down.

"Now, I know you are Father Silverius' personal henchman and rarely obey anyone else, but I have a situation that needs your kind of… expertise," Valentianus explained with a polite smile as he pulled his chair back and sat down taking a file from the drawer. He had a silver tongue, but behind those smooth words had a bite of a venomous snake, and Bernand had learned to identify such personalities.

"I´m listening." Bernand nodded, earning Valentianus to grin broadly.

"Wonderful. Here is the file of a family I need you to take care of."

Bernand´s face fell, and the shock was visible in his eyes as he stared at the file and then at the man behind the desk. Valentianus pushed the file across the desk toward Bernand and didn´t bother to ask if he was willing to do what he wanted. He wasn´t the type of man who took no for an answer. With a shaky hand, Bernand took the file and opened it seeing a picture of the family smiling brightly toward the camera. A husband and a wife with three teenaged children, two boys and one girl.

"Why?" he dared to ask.

"They stole something from me, and I don´t tolerate that kind of behaviour. It's a lesson for everyone to learn the hard way. Steal from me and there will be severe consequences." the man's voice turned deep and spiteful as he glared at Bernand.

"If you want to get rid of them, should Valor´s assassins do the job rather than someone like me?"

Valentianus huffed, leaning back on his chair, crossing his hands on his lap, and gazed at Bernand.

"They don´t deserve such an honor."

"Honor, sir?"

"Yes, honor. It is considered an honor to die in the hands of a legendary assassin who wears the crest of the Valor. This family is nothing more than ordinary thieves and deserves to die as one. That is why I need you, not an assassin, to do the job. No need to be discreet about it. "

"What did they steal? If I may be so bold and ask," Bernand looked at the picture before starting to read the information Valentianus had gathered about the family. The husband was in a trading business while the mother worked as a real estate agent. Bernand frowned. They sounded like a middle-class type of family. Why would they steal anything from a man like Valentianus? The two boys went to school at one of the most expensive universities in Carran and the daughter studied at the college of music.

"Katana. My family has possessed it for generations. It is one of the kind, and the price of the sword is beyond measure. The scabbard has been made from rare cobalt obsidian, emeralds embedded to it and ancient language carved on the side. The blade itself is engraved. Religious symbols have been delicately etched into the blade, which is supposed to give the weapon and its owner extra strength."

Bernand blinked and slowly lifted his gaze from the papers on Valentianus' face. Why would a family that had a steady income and no money problems steal an heirloom so valuable? It didn´t make any sense. There had to be something Valentianus' men had overlooked or were it possible this family was being framed for the crime they didn´t commit? Bernand might have a rotten core he tried to hide with the Faith but even he refused to kill innocent people.

If there was something he could do to save this family, he would do it or die trying.