Rivers of the Night

The Association.

It was the name the assassins who joined it knew it by, but to the outside world, they were known as the Daggers of the Night.

They were far from the only assassin guild on the continent, but they did have a firm hold on the province. If one were to name the main centers of power in the Night Province, there was the Night Empire, ruled by the Nightingale family, the Obsidian Eclipse Sect, and finally, the Daggers of the Night.

Most would not dare to say this aloud. An assassin guild could never be acknowledged as a legitimate power.

These undercurrents ruled the province, and it was to this power in the shadows that Theron returned.

…

The Daggers of the Night didn't have just one location. As a power hidden in the shadows, it was scattered across the province, hidden in the crevices of the Empire.

Before one became a Gold Assassin, they couldn't truly be considered a member of the organization.

This was an odd thing to say, considering Gold Mancers were the strongest of the Night Province, but in practice, it was functionally true. This was because, before reaching that step, rather than being an assassin of the Daggers of the Night, you were instead beholden to a single branch alone, without a chance to interact with the others.

Every branch was headed by a Gold Assassin and had leagues of Bronzes and Silvers beneath them. Theron's particular branch was located in Thistle Brook City, one of the ten largest outside the core of the Empire.

Theron walked into a mercenary guild and paid a fee for a room. After a bite to eat, he made his way up the rickety stairs and into his accommodations. But instead of laying to rest, he walked toward a cracked and greying mirror.

Placing his hands on its surface, Theron chanted unintelligible words in a slow, rhythmic cadence.

Hidden runes on the back of his hand came to life, and his palm slipped through the mirror's surface. Soon, his body disappeared into the mirror.

Theron's vision cleared, and he found himself standing in the same position in a more familiar room. He had always found the methods of the Daggers of the Night fascinating. An organization on this level shouldn't have such methods—it made one wonder.

The room was quaint and dark, the walls carved out of grey stone not much unlike the bed. Other than a pillow and a blanket, there was nothing else of note, and Theron preferred it that way.

He left the room and walked down the sparsely lit corridors. These headquarters were almost certainly carved out of a mountain somewhere, but just wondering about this was dangerous business.

The hallway ended, giving way to a simple round room. There were some tables where a few assassins gathered, but the main attraction was a counter located in a far corner. An old man sat behind it, part dozing off. But it was his existence that kept everyone else in line.

Theron's appearance didn't garner much attention. He rarely spent much time in the Association, and it had been a month since he took the mission. So many had taken and failed it by now that it no longer held the same weight.

A sack was placed down on the counter, and the old man slowly opened his eyes. Others wouldn't remember, but he would.

Rather than checking the sack, he gazed into Theron's eyes. An unwavering pair of icy blue gems looked back at him.

The old man moved, and the head in the sack was revealed. Rotund rolls of fat spilled over, the dried blood unable to mask it.

"The Greycoat mission has been completed."

The old man rolled a thumb over one of his fingers, and a rune manifested, revealing a silver ring. With a light glow, a card and three pristine bottles appeared.

No matter how uncaring the surrounding assassins had been prior to this, they all heard these words clearly. Even if the old man hadn't spoken, for a Bronze Assassin to receive such substantial rewards, it could only be thanks to one mission.

Many rose from their seats to get a better look.

"Huh?" A young man looked up.

His nose was large, and his eyes were narrow. Somehow, his face still felt a bit flat.

"What happened?" he asked. He hadn't been paying enough attention earlier and hadn't even noticed Theron walk in.

"The Greycoat mission—it's completed."

"Oh? Lyn did it?" The young man's eyes lit up.

"Lyn? No, I don't recognize this guy."

The young man was taken aback. He stood to his feet and looked over, and when he saw who it was, he, too, was shocked. Unlike the others, though, it was because he recognized Theron.

The commotion in the room wasn't enough to faze Theron. He expected this to happen. He was only interested in returning to his room and having a night's rest.

After so long on the road, he hadn't had a good night's rest in weeks. Though he had some thoughts about how he would digest his gains, now wasn't the time to consider such things.

Unfortunately, his path was blocked before he could do so.

"It's you?" The flat-faced young man stood in Theron's way.

Most called this young man Big Nose, though Theron knew his name to be Manson. The two weren't acquainted with one another, so Theron had no idea why his path was being blocked.

"How did you do it? Didn't Lyn take this mission? You completed it before him?"

The more questions Manson asked, the deeper Theron's frown became.

"Get out of my way. I'm not familiar with you."

Theron spoke coldly, a dangerous light flickering in his eyes.

Manson couldn't react as Theron brushed by him, moving down the dimly lit halls. When he recovered, he was livid.

"If you think that mission is so easy to complete, you've got another thing coming, arrogant bastard."

Theron's steps paused for a moment before he continued walking. For some reason, he didn't believe Manson was lying.