I was just a child.

Mm, a child when I witnessed my first death.

How was I supposed to act?

Let me give you a little understanding.

It was a normal day for me and my father, we were walking down a crowded street. He had just bought me this breaded ice cream that tasted so heavenly. It was a mixture of cold goodness and soft sweet honey bread that set my taste buds alight. Left my body shivering in yummy goodness that seems to forget the sweat beading upon our foreheads.

However, I remembered clearly that while I was enjoying his company and witty jokes. While I was enjoying the only parenting figure in my life.

He was glancing over his shoulders.

There was never a second where a smile left his face. He showed none of the anxiety that would appear in a lesser man face.

His dark-brown curly hair seemed to lighten in the summer’s heat. His easy going smile made me ignore the brow-beating beams of punishment even more than the ice-cream. Despite the facade he put up, there was this line at the corner of his grey eyes that allowed me to know my dad was worried about something.

Like a good daughter, I tried to ignore it and be strong.

Even though, my gut-twisted and I wanted to glance behind us and see what had him worried. I continued walking forward, enjoying our time.

To me, my father was the best fighter, he made a living teaching commoners how to pick up a sword and a lot of nobles sent their guards to him. He could best anyone and I had no doubt that he would solve the trouble, any trouble.

Yet, we turned down an alley, there were all kinds of things blocking the further path. My father cursed silently before picking me up easily even though I was sixteen summers now. He put me on top of the highest crate.

“Climb onto the roof and be quiet.”

His eyes were strict like he gets when teaching me to defend myself. His lips were tight and there was that aging line in his jaw that hushed all complaints in my gut. I knew my father was serious and I felt bad for his enemies.

Despite that, there was this bad feeling tugging at me. Maybe it was just the fear a daughter feels for her father going into danger. My father always preached that one tiny slip up could spell your life. You must always seize every moment as if it is your last.

So while I was scampering onto the roof, my father was rearranging the battlefield. He placed a few crates closed to the other block exit. I was sure this was his getaway planned.

I had just made it up onto the roof and laid flat down, when even I could pick up the sounds of boots coming in a hurry. My father spun to face the opposition. He had his easy-going smile back on his face and looked relaxed. I am pretty sure if he had a twig to light up, he would be puffing, and probably make some witless comment.

Instead as half a dozen men walked into the alley, he glanced at the sun and said something completely embarrassing.

“Hey, I seemed to have lost my way. I was looking for the bathroom but maybe you lads can help an aging soldier?”

He gave a dry chuckle but he totally focused on scanning the men. I noticed his feet had shifted into a basic stance.

My eyes shifted to the men and noticed that they didn’t seem to wear swords but the one in coat had a slight bulge.

“Mister Morris, I am sure you can guess why we are here. I won’t beat around the bush, we know you have been training some of the rebels. We caught some that have practically spelled your doom. So I won’t bother with any elaborate tells. Just tell me how you wish to die?”

Before my father could speak, the cloak man pulled out a crossbow and shot my father in the chest. My father could only smile, his ass hitting the hard cobblestone pavement. He touched his chest where the bolt pierce.

“Mm, guess I won’t be taking any of you with me.”

My father gave his last comment before another bolt snapped his head back.

The group walked over and checked to make sure he was dead before leaving. As if this was just another ordinary day, but me. I just laid there staring at my father’s cold body. There was no shivering fear or anger building in me.

There were no tears threatening to explode out. No erratic sobering and searching for someone to hear my grieving tale.

I honestly, just laid there. In the hot sun, sweating tears and letting the deprave black hole that was now my heart grow.

Until the moon came up and provided my sun beating body with cooling relief, I laid there.

It wasn’t until my father’s words echoed in my head that I decided to move.

“If someday something happens to me, go to our safehouse. Wait several weeks before leaving and going to the place on the map. I believe you will know what to do after that. You are my best student and precious little angel.”

******

Now, in a way you understand what led me to this present situation.

Wait, did you think I was some old hag telling story about my past?

Ha, sucker!

No, this is what I am writing as I experience. This is the here and now and my resolution.

Now back to the current me.

This situation where I am dressed in dark leathers, high calf black boots, dark fur cloak over all. Strapped to my waist is black short sword, hilt made for my smaller hands. The blade is thinner than normal swords. This kind is made for precise cutting and stabbing. Meant to be used by an agile hand to slash at vulnerable points like joints and major arteries.

Across my body, I had four daggers not counting the fact my bracer had a built in contraption that would shoot out a six inch blade like it grew from my palm. I had numerous throwing stars in a pouch on both sides of my waist. Plus little pellets that would act as smoke camouflage, made from the east. To top all the weaponry off, was a small crossbow that could shoot three bolts repeatedly. Super easy loading design that could be done with one hand in a pinch.

You might be asking, why do I need such an armory?

Well good question.

Revenge isn’t something that can be served by the unskilled.

Revenge isn’t something that the unprepared can have.

Revenge isn’t something somebody else can give you.

You have to take it in your own hands. You must be there to see the light flickering out of their eyes.

Without them dying by your own hands, can you even call it revenge? Can you even feel like you upheld your deceased memories?

Sigh.

I took a slow breath, easing my body onto the rafters. I slipped the tiles aside and peaked my head out, watching for any shifts in the shadows.

I waited with a baited breath.

There was no reason to rush.

There were several passing moments, the moon was heavy overhead. The stars lingered nearby like watching peasants to drama unfolding.

After what felt like a candle expiring, I climbed onto the roof. I was sure nobody was in the shadows. Nobody was trained to wait motionless in the shadows. Not even my father could do that and he was considered one of the best fighters.

I crept low across the warehouse district, keeping attention on any elongated shadows for minutes on end, before passing them.

My aim was one of the hidden exits out of the city. I knew it would be foolish to try and seek revenge in the city. This city has been cleansed of any contacts my father might have had. Which means that only contacts I could trust, were ones I made.

It only took me until the sun was cresting the horizons to make it to the alley with the exit. Several minutes walks from the wall but instead of heading down. I dropped down into a shadow with my crossbow out and waited.

Enjoying the silence and counting my breaths.

When the chickens began croaking, I moved out. Silently dropping to the ground and moving the cobblestones to the side, to reveal the tunnel underneath. I slipped in and replaced them as perfectly as I could.

My hands out, I felt along the wall, counting my steps. The tunnel would lead to multiple tunnel openings but only one of them led to my father’s preparations to leave. He had plans for all moments but still died in the end.

Which was a lesson for me.

Be prepared but prepared for the unexpected.

I paused when I got to where my count should have had me. It took a lot of groping around in the darkness to find the correct block that would open the exit. I first peaked the tip of my head out to see nothing but roots. I widened the hole and slipped out. Finding myself deep in a forest, surrounded by trees and the normal forest decor.

I pulled out my map and compass. I began walking and counting my steps. Making sure I was walking smoothly north with as limited as deviations as possible. Sometimes, smart people didn’t account very much for the possible unsteady people.

Morning’s sun was high in the sky, looking down like a strict official. It took me such a long time to make it to the horse farm.

The horse farmer spotted me walking up. His long light brown hair was braided back. Pulling at his weather beaten forehead, giving me the impression that he spent a lot of time in the sun. However, his body positioning and the fact he was no more than a few steps away from shovels, hoes, and hilt hidden within that barrel of crap. Told me he was more than a farmer or retired commoner soldier.

I stopped several yards away from him.

“Ho there, friend.” I yelled out.

He stopped with whatever he was doing near those stables and turned fully to me. A smile slipped upon his face.

One that made me gripped the crossbow in the curtains of my cloak.

“Ho there, lass. I didn’t expect to see you coming around these parts.” He spoke with familiarity.

But I did not remember his face. However, there was no need to know who he was.

“Are you selling horses?” I pointed at horses ranging in the fenced off area.

He glanced back before nodding.

“Aye, I only have two beauties to sell. Come over and take a look.”

He pointed into the stable and from this angle, I could just barely make out the coat of black horse. I took it to mean he was being sincere. So I trudged over and began appraising the quality of the horse.

Though, my experience was rather tame. I knew how to make sure they weren’t sick but how to tell what breed or anything like that, was beyond me.

The other horse had a kind of spotty coat but the black one was calling me. For one, it didn’t have male part. Two, she looks majestic with the long shimmering mane. The coat felt smooth under my hands, I turned to the horse Farmer who already had a saddle in hand.

“She will be fifteen gold, which is already a discount. The officials pay me thirty rounds for one of my horses.”

I nodded and dug out fifteen rounds. I had a hundred in my pouch and various other denominations, so I wasn’t worried about this amount. He helped me saddle it and left me with a sad expression that flitted away seconds after he left my sight.

I walked Night Star out of the gate and hopped on her back. I pulled out my map and orientated myself. I was headed to the major trade city on the border of two allying kingdoms on paper. But in reality, they were maneuvering a lot of chess pieces to peacefully take over land.

This is also where the base of a lot of bandits and Rebels lie. Also my goal, for if not for these rebels, my father would not have been caught unawares. Dying for simply doing what he was paid to do.

Everybody had to account for their hand in his death. I would ensure it.