Thread: In Memory

I'm an extreme paranoid when it comes to my writing pieces, having had some of my writings been stolen from me in my senior year of High School to win school-wide competitions, I tend to only show my longest friend and sister my book. My precious book which is my life and soul, I will trust the members of AO with. It means more to me than my life, dead serious.

Read it at your leisure, or not at all. Comments are highly appreciated of course, questions can also be asked. But in return, if you are going to use any bit of it, please let me know beforehand. That is all I am asking for.

The following is an exert close to one page of the first Chapter in my book called "In Memory". A bit of information first, "In Memory" is one of a bundle of chapters, close to thirty that will be making of Act I, or the first novel in my series. I'm aiming for five Acts for Zyta's story and no more, I first got the idea of five Acts from Shakespeare one night.

If you would like to read more, then send a PM, or leave a message here and I'll see to it that the request will be granted one page about this length at a time.

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Chapter One - In Memory

When it was learned that an assassin took up residence late in the night, there was much talk and dread in Solm.

Sicarius was rich and everything that you’d expect from an assassin, he kept to himself mostly and only talked to others about a potential mission, ever since his first victim there were many who sought him out time and time again. Tales followed his person, like an annoying shadow, and it was hard to tell which was true and what had been made up at the spur of the moment, his deeds had quickly become a thing of legend, mainly bedtime stories moms used to get their children to sleep at night. If his legendary missions were not enough to marvel at, there were always whispers (from many unskilled talkers) that chatted aimlessly about his young age:

“He can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen; if he isn’t the end of the world then I shall eat my own hat.” Normally when one killed, no matter the age, there tended to be signs of wear on the mind, guilt of killing even one person can drive some insane; Sicarius however would always come back fresh from a mission unchanged, but “uncaring” would be closer to the mark. There were some that shook their heads and kept to themselves, only muttering when spoken to and not always when about Sicarius.

But so far, no harm had come to the citizens, and they were able to forgive the assassin’s presence, even in the worst of times; Sicarius was generous when he wished and harsh only when it came to be. He remained on conversational terms with nearly everyone in Solm—whether they feared him or not, Sicarius always knew—though he had no friends, only acquaintances, and he had many young devotees (mainly girls of various ages) that were even more of a burden then the stories that followed him.

One particular girl, an orphan by the name of Saikou, Sicarius took in, explaining to her that he would train her to be like himself if she desired. Saikou desired just that and was found, only the next day, to be in the constant company of Sicarius during the day training just out of town. The pair didn’t care too much for watchers, nor did any watching try to imitate the techniques as most, if not all, were very complicated and confusing from afar. At that time Saikou was still a young child about half of Sicarius’ age; whenever he smiled thoughtfully Sicarius would answer:

“You remind me of my own daughters who I can’t be with right now.” Further questions about his daughters were usually ignored, or avoided altogether until a rule was made that said if there were any more questions about them, then Saikou would have to train, without a break, until it was morning three days later. That put an immediate end to Saikou’s inquiries.

Six months had passed since Sicarius first came to Solm. Every few days a new client would appear before Sicarius requesting the death of some power hungry associate, or as an avenger, and he would respond to each one in the same manner and place. It was the same on a very particular dreary night when the moon was shadowed by a dense cloud formation. The client arrived in the middle of a meal looking pale and shaken; he spoke to Sicarius of an “evil man” on the security branch threatening to destroy his crops. This did not interest Sicarius much, as he preferred the jobs that no one else could do, but forced his mind to run over the pros and cons.

Sicarius took his mug in hand and sipped from it, the black coffee was rather colder tonight than usual. “Is that all?” he asked quietly.

The client nodded quickly and bowed his head. “Yes… err… I believe that’s it, Sicarius.”

The assassin ignored the friendly demeanor his client used with him, by now it was commonplace. “Well then, expect the job to be done tonight. You can pay the price in the morning; do you still live by the wash?”

“Yes,” came the reply with a small, unneeded smile, “see you then. Excuse me.” The client rose hastily and left the tavern before his name could pop up among the gossipers.

Sicarius remained at the table only minutes longer to finish up his meal, some overly cooked meat, potatoes, and bread, while he let his thoughts wander from subject to subject. A bard was going on, in a high lofty tone, with his passage, entertaining others as he himself was being entertained with a discount on the food and ale; he had many listeners, especially among the heavily intoxicated, Sicarius only listened halfheartedly, only catching the occasionally enticing word. At length he finished his meal and drank his coffee, he stood and threw a handful of change on the table, more than enough to cover the bill and he was gone. Everyone was too into their own lives to notice Sicarius’ departure, all but one at least had had enough courtesy to leave him alone.