Veer kept on looking at her. It was her face that captivated him deeply—a resolute beauty marred by hardship.
With her hood now pushed back, her hair cascaded like a waterfall of black silk—smooth, straight, and yet rebelliously wild. It framed her strong jawline, brushing against her collarbone in a delicate dance of shadows. A thin braid, fastened with a bone-white bead, lay behind her ear—perhaps a mark of heritage, or a warning of some kind.
Her lips, full and cracked from dehydration, formed a natural pout that spoke of resilience rather than superficiality. Her nose stood sharp and proud, a testament to her fierce spirit.
He shook his head, overwhelmed by a cocktail of emotions, and laid down on the nearby carpet, surrendering to the weariness that enveloped him. As he drifted into a troubled slumber, the image of the mysterious woman haunted his dreams, leaving a lingering question: what had he gotten himself into?
It was now noon, and the sweltering heat of the day was palpable. He felt as exposed as the midday sunlight pouring in through the open window; a stark contrast to the lingering coolness of dawn. As the season of rebellion swept through the land, the absence of air conditioning left him sweltering, relying solely on his hand fan for relief. The noise from the bustling street outside his door grew louder and more frenetic, urging him to rouse himself from his drowsy state and discover what was causing such a commotion.
With a groggy resolve, he freshened up, splashing his face with the cool water drawn from the well by the diligent servant. The water felt invigorating, and he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, slicking it back into a semblance of order. Stepping outside, he was met with a startling scene: guards were questioning throngs of people, their stern expressions charged with urgency. As he drew closer, the hushed conversations gradually crystallized into coherent snippets of information. The guards were searching for a woman clad in black, a description that sent a shiver down his spine as whispers circulated about a failed assassination attempt on the king.
Thanks to the vigilance of the guards and the steadfast strength of the king's watch, the plot against the crown had been foiled before it could unfold. He could sense the tension in the air; the townsfolk began to murmur among themselves, their faces a mix of concern and incredulity at the thought of such treachery in their midst. The guards approached the nearby shopkeepers, demanding any information they might have gleaned. However, his fellow merchants simply shook their heads, reluctant to engage.
When the guard turned to him, his tone was sharp yet curious. "Sir, have you seen anything unusual? Any woman dressed in black?"
"No, not at all," he replied, feigning exhaustion. "As you can see, I've had a long night, toiling away and contemplating new recipes. If you'd prefer, I can call for food instead of watching for spies—surely, there's no way I'd notice anything if I'm not particularly loved in these parts!" He flashed a weary smile, and the guard took a moment to understand what he has just said as Veer's speech and accent was not native. The guard finding his story plausible, nodded and moved on, bowing slightly before continuing the search.
Once the guards left, he retreated back inside his shop, his mind racing with thoughts of this mysterious woman. She was a variable in his carefully crafted plans, a potential threat that needed containment. After a moment of deliberation, he resolved to let her remain hidden within the shadows of his establishment until he could glean her secrets.
So my guess was right she indeed tried to assassinate the king. Wow, what a mess thought Veer while pulling his hair.
The sun had now shifted to indicate that it was well past two in the afternoon, its relentless rays blazing down upon the earth. Just as he began to contemplate his next course of action, he noticed a group of five men approaching his shop. Their movements exuded a casual arrogance typical of seasoned killers—each one bearing the hardened demeanor of men who had seen and committed unspeakable acts before. Their wide-legged stances, hands casually poised near their hips, and shoulders rolling slightly as if accustomed to the weight of armor or blades gave them an air of menace.
These five men wore patched cloaks, their original black color now bleached into a ghostly charcoal from relentless exposure to the sun and dust. In place of polished uniforms typical of soldiers, they presented a more utilitarian appearance: thick belts cinched around their waists were brimming with hidden compartments, daggers stashed away beneath their armpits, and short swords strapped securely to their backs. One of them even boasted a hidden iron-knuckle glove beneath his shawl, a testament to their readiness for confrontation.
Their boots were a mismatched assortment—durable leather soles worn from traversing rugged mountain paths and dense forest trails. One man still bore the residue of dried mud from an arduous trek through marshlands, while another's footwear bore smudges of black oil, a tale of their recent exploits. They all possessed the gait of hunters or former highwaymen, tracking their surroundings with a predatory instinct.
Dark sashes encircled their waists, many adorned with twisted iron rings or bronze hooks that hinted at old allegiances to various gangs. One man sported a stitched wolf's tooth, while another bore a bloodstained ribbon half-hidden in a side pouch—gritty symbols of their past lives.
Their shirts were rough and tattered, some sleeveless or frayed at the edges, and tattoos peeked out from beneath the fabric—runes, beast marks, and tribal etchings, each telling a story that would send shivers down the spine of any nobleman.
"Well, they finally decided to show up," he said silently, stepping outside to confront them and discuss their potential employment. As he approached, he noticed the wary glances of the townspeople around—fear etched on their faces as they beheld the ragtag assembly of hardened men. They speculated about the potential calamity that had befallen them after the failed assassination attempt on the king, the air thick with tension and intrigue.