"Criminals and other undesirables always existed in every city that had thousands of people or more in it. These unsavory types tend to band together, as only then would they be able to amount to more.

In most cases, the cities allowed them to exist, as long as they did not cross some pre-established lines. Often this also included generous bribes to many officials involved, as corruption was not an uncommon failing.

Generally, the more oppressive the country, the more criminals were present, as most were those who were unhappy with their lot in life, or those forced to turn to crime because they simply had no other option.

Because of that, it was of no surprise that the major cities in the Holy Kingdom of Theodinaz were known to have rampant criminal activities and entire underworlds where many criminals formed gangs and fought each other for power.

After all, those who found themselves on the bad side of the state religion for any reason would have no other recourse but to turn to crime." - From a lecture by Garth Wainwrought, Professor of Socioeconomics at the Levain Institute for Higher Learning, circa 662 FP.

The blind girl had fidgeted with nervousness as she sat on a chair, nursing a cup of warm milk in her hands. She was inside Varsha's private room, which had an actual door. The door was shut and locked, and she would not be able to get out unless allowed to by Varsha.

She couldn't help it and replayed the events of the past few minutes - it had felt like hours - in her mind. She had been petrified with surprise at being discovered when Varsha barged into the room, but to her surprise, after her initial surprised outburst, the old woman signaled her to remain silent instead.

The girl had just stood in silence as Varsha pried out her knife from her grasp. Then she sensed how the old woman pulled out a strange, curved dagger from the back of her dress, and stabbed it through the wound on Proust's neck. The dagger enlarged the wound, as if it was what caused them in the first place.

Then the girl had followed when Varsha had whispered to follow her quietly. She felt how the old woman had walked to the kitchen and washed the girl's hands - she had gotten some blood on them when she pulled her knife out - until they were clean.

When the old woman washed the knife she had used and nonchalantly placed it back into the knife rack, the girl was somewhat surprised. The old woman then poured some milk in a pan, warmed it, and poured it into a mug.

She had given the mug to the girl and told her to follow, so the girl did just that.

"Now then, Reed," said Varsha. Reed was a nickname the blind girl got because one of the boys with a lisp could not pronounce the name her mother gave her correctly, and it had since stuck. "I can pretty much tell what happened on my own. I just want to ask you why? And more importantly… How?"

"I had long wanted to end that sick son of a bitch myself, but never mustered my courage to… kill again…" admitted the old woman with a sigh. "I guess that's one thing you got me beat at, girl."

"I didn't want him to lay his hands on me. Like he did to Nina, and Jess, and Cassie, and likely many of the others too," said the girl once Varsha made it clear she was done talking. To her surprise, the girl had not felt much of… anything after what she had done. She had thought it would be harder. "Running is useless. Telling you wouldn't help… so I took the only way out I saw."

"And just how might a blind girl like you do that?" asked Varsha pointedly with an accusative tone. "Spare me the excuse of you being familiar with the place. We both know you've never stepped foot in that room until tonight."

The girl - Reed - thought about her predicament for a moment. She considered lying to Varsha's face for a moment, but her gut feeling told her that would be a very bad idea for some reason. Reed had learnt to trust her gut feeling.

Besides, Varsha had caught her in the act - quite literally at that - and instead of the expected reaction, the woman had helped her cover up what she had done. That alone was more than she had ever expected. It was also the main drive behind her decision to come clean to the old woman.

"I awakened my magic… four years ago," admitted Reed with a quiet voice. It was still the dead of the night, and while they were in Varsha's room, she spoke quietly out of habit. "I can feel what's around me with it. That's how I did it."

"Huh. You've sure kept it hidden real fucking well. Didn't notice a damn thing," admitted Varsha with a surprised tone. She then peered closer to Reed, the girl somehow feeling as if the old woman was peering into her, a feeling that gave her the creeps. "What else can you do with it?"

"Not much," the girl admitted. "I can move the wind around me, but it's not that strong. It wouldn't hold a child like me, much less adults. I mostly use it to breathe right."

"Right… old Thora did mention you had a wound in the lung back then," said the old woman in reminescence. She then looked back at the girl, and fell into silence as she seemed to have thought of something, then struggle with herself. The girl was uncertain. She only felt how the old woman's face seemed to twitch repeatedly.

In the end, the woman seemed to have come to a decision. She sighed loudly, and covered her face with one hand, before she looked at the girl once more. This time, her eyes glowed with determination.

"Tell me honestly, Reed. Do you feel anything after you killed Proust?" asked the old woman. Something about her voice sounded almost like someone begging desperately, for what Reed doesn't know. "Anything at all?"

"Don't think so," said the girl as she shook her head. Then she fell into thought for a moment, before she added some of her thoughts to clarify what she meant. "If I have to describe what it felt… it was like I just squished a really smelly bug?"

"I guessed as much…" said Varsha with an exasperated, despairing sigh. The way she said it make it sound as if she was mourning, yet Reed had not understood why. "You're staying with me tomorrow. With Proust gone they'd likely let me handle things here, and it wouldn't look out of place for me to keep a kid or two to help do the chores."

"All right?" said Reed, uncertain on what the old woman was going for.

******************************

Things progressed as Varsha had predicted the following day. There was a ruckus when Proust's corpse was discovered, and more adults who smelled bad came over. They said something about assassins in a panicky tone which Reed didn't quite catch.

After that day, Reed no longer had to spend her day and night outside, begging for alms regardless of sun or rain. Varsha had kept her around as she said. Supposedly to help her do chores.

What nobody else knew was that during those hours when it was just the two of them in the house, Varsha had subjected Reed into gruelling training. The old woman had quickly latched onto the girl's logic that she needed to be stronger to have a say in her life, and that motivation carried her through the gruelling training.

For some unknown reason, Varsha seemed very experienced with such training. She put Reed through grueling trials that left her feeling as if she had just been trampled by a stampede, yet the girl felt how she improved slowly but surely.

Other than physical conditioning, Varsha also taught the girl other things. Namely which parts of a person's body were lethal to stab, and many other ways to end a person. It was then that Reed realized that the old woman was highly experienced with such things, completely at odds with how she had thought her to just be a matron who was all talk but had not dared to take action.

They lived that way quietly, until two years later, the visibly grown Reed, now twelve, met Varsha again in her room at the dead of night. There Varsha gave the girl a belt, which held a pair of short swords with daggers in place of a pommel, sheathed in leather scabbards.

"Take these with you. They're a bit old but they ought to cut better than the kitchen knife you used last time," said the old woman with pride evident in her voice. Reed took the belt and clasped it around her slim waist, the blades on either side of her hip. "They're the last pair I used when I was still active. Don't be afraid of breaking them. We'll just get you new ones. You know the target for tonight, yes?"

"Yes… Varsha," replied Reed. The old woman had told her to just call her by name when they were in private, so she did just that. What she was about to do that night was a test from her. She was to go out to another place similar to theirs, and kill a man there, before planting a dagger Varsha had prepared on his body.

Reed had not asked the reason. It was irrelevant to her. She was unsure whether she was up to the task, yet at the same time eager to prove herself, and to know how far she had come after the last two years of training.

And thus the girl left through the shutter, and prowled into the dark, moonless night.