How I loved the Ethereal Suite, It's haunting melody chilling my bones. If it weren't for the wretched holiday, I would have been humming this tune happily while working, reading, writing, killing, anything to make it forged into my mind.

I silently hummed to the music as the orchestra played, diving into the final crescendo a few hours later. I heard many sobs from the person left of me – Emrys. Leave it to her to pluck off my nerves one-by-one. I kicked her carefully, giving her the ever-present look of my knife hilt just below the hems of my dress. I smiled cruelly as she abruptly shut-up her moaning and puffy face. Her Mistress, Kathrin, had the most successful brothel in Demithien, or anywhere else, as she liked to boast. Emrys sneered at me, mirroring the dark, dark hatred we both had for each other.

Too soon the music had ended, and the brothel-mother had stared at the two of us.

"You two could be sisters, the way you look, talk, act, it's almost identical."

My master smirked. Of course I would, especially for what I was about to do.

"The only thing different," he started, "Is that mine is trained for the luxury of the battlefield, and yours – elsewhere and useless otherwise."

The Brothel-madam sneered at his jest. She would smile any other time with that perfect body of a woman and mind of a crafty, greedy wolf.

"We leave, Emrys, " She said, no doubt to sell her off to another young aristocrat.

My Master had tried to once, sneakily. I had been given a mission to protect and obey a young lord who liked to play in the dark - and had tried to play with a cruel-hearted demon. And in return, I had sneakily stolen his family's treasures, torn him to shreds and looked damn good while doing it.

As we traveled back to the manor, I looked out the window of the carriage, seeing the cobblestone roads full of people – celebrating the death of their crown's enemies. My people, my master often reminded - my people were slaughtered like pigs today. He taught me to hate, to envy, and to silently kill. I saw the great iron palace – the one shrine that made a mockery of the ancient temples – it's spires and stone placements rendered almost ancient.

But I had cared for the women here, the thing I could not numb with killing, endless teaching, punishments, or whatever my master sought out to undo the kindness he saw.

And through that still, I had looked out for them: The women who had been discarded in the streets, the ones who were with child, and the ones who birthed illegitimate heirs of the filthy men that had seduced them. During the last three years, I brought them to the manor to train, and they had become my small sentry of hardened warriors. They took orders only from me; I became their leader, their light in the dark world they were thrust into. And they learned to despise men, and would gladly dispatch them and their armies at my will. I kept them in the small building I called my private training hall I had purchased secretly, which they called home.

I called them my Sisters of the Deceived, and tonight I had a new initiate to welcome.

After cutting short the goodnight's and see you tomorrow's I waited for the steady sound of my master's snoring down the hall.

After about an excruciatingly slow hour after the steady stream of snores rang throughout the complex, I strapped on an array of weaponry: knives, several daggers, and a wickedly curved blade attached to my back. I looked at the mirror, and put a thick sweep of kohl on my eyelids: A war princess indeed.

I opened the window, the cool night air kissing my face. No moon – Good for conspirators.

I threw out my ladder, attaching it to the bottom of the seat where I hid it in the first place.

The rope had my hands barking in pain through the gloves, but for what I was doing – it was worth it.

I ran down the streets, carefully making sure the window stayed closed and the rope vanished.

The streets smelled worse than usual: full of muck, stale ale, piss, and worse. I ran the next few blocks towards the warehouse that was left to my jurisdiction. Ten minutes later I made it to the front door.

I wailed my fist against the door, a few rustles - they armed themselves.

"Password?"

"Crone's Retribution" – Named after the hidden order of witches this festering place had claimed Estrye was helping.

"Nice to see you too – Anthryl" A deep woman's voice answered.

The locks opened, and eight of my most prized Sisters stood before me: The Blades of Shadow Intent.