Years Later...

"AGAIN!" The old man ordered, watching his ward strike her opponent ruthlessly.

She did as told and redid her maneuver once more. Her fellow trainee landed with a thud on the mat.

"Good form, Anthril. Now add the high kick into the maneuver, I want to see his nose bloody."

"But Master-"

"AGAIN!"

"Y-yes sir."

The girl's eyes narrowed, 18 years old and remained her master's protegee. Her sparring partner, Will, was already up and ready for the upcoming attack.

She hoped his nose wouldn't break.

She ran at him, flipping and chopping her foot lower to his face. A soft crack was emitted from Will's nose as her heel connected to his face. She landed softly as she saw the damage. Blood was dripping all over Will; pain was obviously just setting in as she saw his jaw tighten. He never cried, but she could tell it hurt like hell when he clenched his jaw. Anthryl looked at the man, he looked at her with approval. She had done nothing superior, just as she was told.

"William, go to the apothecary and get that nose patched up. I have some blocking practices I want you doing tomorrow morning that should help with your form." The man said.

Will muttered something vulgar and stalked out of the room.

She hated how ruthless her master could be. But after what he had been through, she understood why he had hardened over the years.

Her master was Emperor of the Mercenaries, Alric Hawkthryn. She was his supposed daughter Anthryl Hawkthryn, Princess to the Emperor. She often wondered how he was her father, since her dark blonde hair completely contrasted his deep brown locks. Not to mention his green eyes, which her silver and purple ones gave an odd thought that her mother was unusual. Anthryl used to constantly ask about her mother. Her master just gave a stupid comment or just ignored her.

"Anthril..."

Of course, if her mother was tragically killed or was stolen, or had been found missing and was still potentially alive somewhere...

"Anthryl!"

The shout broke off her train of thought and brought her back into reality.

"Anthryl, if I wanted you to become a scholar, I would have done so nine years ago. But I didn't: so pay attention!"

"Sorry Master Alric. You were saying?"

"I was trying to ask you if you wanted to come to the theatre tonight. They're playing the Ethereal Suite for the upcoming 'holiday'."

By holiday, he meant slaughter celebration...

He told me of the countries Demithien conquered. This "Holiday" they celebrated was to signify the achievement of conquering Estrye, the Silver Country, in a sweeping bloodbath. Master Alric always told me to despise this holiday. But the music that they played during that time was my favorite. And every year master took me to his personal seats and I enjoyed every second of it.

"I suppose there would be no benefit in saying no." I replied.

"Good, I already had your dress finished. It's in your chambers."

"Thank you Master."

I took a few steps to my rooms and heard an audible cough.

Oh gods, what now...

"I almost forgot to mention that Emrys would be there... I'm sure you'll try to remain on your best behavior after the Baneth incident..."

Sweeping through sweet memory lane, I remembered throwing a dagger at the courtesans' leg after learning that she had stolen my favorite pair of shoes 3 winters ago. The girl didn't dare touch my possessions again after gaining a slim scar near the knee. Minutes later, I gained the beating of a lifetime and had to rest in bed for the next few days for my wounds.

"Of course, but it will be Emrys that decides whether or not she gains a new mark." I countered. She may go through another beating, but it would be worth it to see her bleed again, a sickeningly twisted part of her purred at the thought.

The twisted man chuckled.

"Dinner awaits us Protégée, I expect you dressed and ready to depart before then."

"As you wish."

I raced to my room to find a bejeweled gown on a mannequin, and from the looks of it, just finished minutes ago. The deep indigo, along with the dark gray, offset my eyes while enhanced my hair. On my vanity, two silver hair combs shaped like fanned out eagle's feathers, shone out from a black velvet box. Obviously, it was a sign of how privileged I was to be free, and more thankfully, Alive.

A girl popped into my room, and prepared the dress. Through several minutes of pulling the corset, taming hair with different scented tonics and oils, and finally flipping in the hair combs, the maid constantly told me that I look like a war princess. Funny how close she was to how much killing I had done. As second in command to the Mercenary Guild, I got all the high paying jobs that lead Alric to be understatedly "filthy rich". I killed my first man at the age of 11, he told me I was a little late but eventually would make the quota on time, if I didn't die first from the second-rate mercenaries who constantly looked like they wanted to rip my throat out.

A knock on my door broke my stare at the mirror.

"Well, don't you look beautiful?" A male voice said, the door opening and closing with a click.

"Thank you Ma-" I turned around, noticing that the boy was not my master at all, blushing as I corrected myself, "I mean - Thank you William."

"Paying attention would help," He chuckled.

I playfully punched his arm: he was like her brother. I could never love him more than that, gods no. But beating him senseless, the feeling was mutual.

"Your nose in any condition worth saving?" I chided.

"Healer said it would be fine, although she did tell me to tell you 'thank you for the business'."

"That's what you get when you try messing with my sashes..."

"How did you-"?

"I know how I order them... and my favorite one was stashed in the back."

"You could be an assassin, you're thorough enough."

"And get flayed alive by Alric? The moment I did such a thing is the moment I signed my death warrant."

Both of us knew first-hand how far Our master's grip held, Three years ago he found a man in our guild silently taking assassination requests, one on Alric himself. So, in retaliation, he filleted the man like a fish over the next few days, having me watch and learn how to let them scream their last, then banned the guild from ever accepting requests for assassinations.

"True... Besides, bloodlust usually gets the better of you from what I heard in the Drunken Priest last night."

"The bastard had it coming... throwing his bodyguard at me like that." I defended, purposefully not mentioning how she kept a vial of her victim's blood to savor for later...

It's not that she had some creepy vampirism habit; it was that she had a hard time hiding her lust for human flesh. Thank Iaris, Goddess of Inner Darkness, that she's been able to hide it so well.

"From what I was told you left calling card, a silver coin."

"That for their shitty locks... such low quality I was surprised they were nobles."

"Should I tell the public that Anthryl Hawkthryn, Princess to the Emperor, felt pity?"

"For the wife, and her horrible taste in men."

The silence drawled the conversation to an abrupt end, and the clock chimed eight.

"I'm going to be late for dinner with the Master..."

"Have fun."

"You know I always do."

I walked down the ivory-trimmed staircase that flowed like a waterfall down to the lower part of the guild. The beastly men who couldn't make the cut for Alric, or me, resided here with their pathetic weapons and shit-awful taste in clothes. They eyed my gown, snickering. I eyed their throats, and the many places I would end them should they step out of line. They knew that underneath; I was armed to the teeth. You learn to take extra precaution in this hell-house.

A quick left in the corridor down the hall brought me to an extensively decorated study. The blood money Alric collected over his years of prime business had left him plenty to afford solid gold dinnerware and other deliriously expensive and rare items to decorate with.

"Well, they certainly disappointed me with the color choices." Master said, lounging on one of his solid mahogany chairs. Lay out for dinner was, of course, a menu.

"I've decided to have your favorite today, Roasted Tuatara-Crab with a Crimson-Nettle reduction."

My stomach growled, rarely did we ever eat fish or any seafood at all, but the sound was a rather unpleasant.

"Well now, eat up and let's go. The carriage will be here in a few minutes." My master said, growing impatient.

I quickly took a seat, the plush cushions rather difficult to sit on with the dress. Servants silently brought out the meal, either scared to death of the people they were serving, or out of respect for the stories that leak out to the public.

Minutes later a messenger arrived along with the coach. I sadly left the half-eaten delight and quickly threw on my cloak, hastily entering the coach and softly cursing about my painful shoes.

My master stepped proudly into the coach, signaling the coachman to go. No doubt he had scared the man into thinking about what would happen if we were late.

A few quick minutes later, we were in the red theatre; lights all aglow, curtains up, and the music began.