"Something is off, they are completely on guard," whispered one of the shadows, hidden among the trees. It had just returned from scouting the enemy camp, but had serious qualms about the whole situation. Not that surprising considering what they were instructed to attempt.

"Those are Blackburg maids, they are on guard even while sleeping in their own homes. I learnt that the hard way," another shadow spoke from where it crouched in grass.

"Don't try to boast, Rat, we all know you never got contacts of that sort" another voice mocked from a nearby tree branch before speaking to a different person "do we still go for it, boss?"

"We were given an order. Finish your report, Scorn," a sharp distorted voice reeking disgust sounded from nowhere in particular. Anything that could help in determining the voice’s gender or age was removed by magic.

"I found 'er tent, alright, but getting there stealthily will be a hassle. I didn't even manage to get inside the camp," the first speaker finished his report, trying to hide the fear in his voice. They were dreadfully aware how dangerous their boss was.

"Incompetent," that harsh omnipresent voice stated matter-of-factly. Chill ran down the spines of all who heard it.

"Alright. Are we doing this or not?" the voice from within the grass attempted to put up a false bravado to hide the festering terror within his very soul. They could run away from a botched job, but there was no escaping their boss.

"Of course we are. I will sneak in and you will cause me the distraction I need," was the command that would allow no dispute.

"We are not that well suited for 'distractions'," yet the one seated at the tree branch complained vocally. Obviously the newest addition to their little team of misfits and after that comment also their newest casualty. The other two knew fully well that they would not see him again after this job was done. This was after all not the first time this happened; they could only pray one of them would not be mistaken for the bad-mouther.

"Shut your fucking mouth and do as I say, Worn, or I will remove it," the voice was now filled with fury and allowed no further disobedience "move out. Count to 200 before you start."

"Alright, will do," the man in the grass called out, but no response arrived; their leader was thankfully already gone.

"Let's get this over with," the man hidden in grass exclaimed "it might turn out be a long night."

And then silence once again prevailed among the trees.

***

"It's taking them too long. They are going with option C," Avys dryly commented as she sipped her coffee.

"I agree," Clarissa who stood just next to her nodded in agreement "you lot should get ready," she addressed the group of relatively cannon fodder maids which were gathered by the entrance.

Avys predicted 3 ways the enemy could approach the situation. Option A was a frontal assault while the servants were still setting up the camp, that was obviously no longer possible. Possibility B was that the enemy would try to sneak inside the camp as a group and inevitably fail their stealth by that time. And C was that only the single most capable assassin would infiltrate the camp an lay in wait for an opportunity. It was assigned letter C because it was the best case scenario, and Avys knew from experience that those do not happen when one relies on them.

And indeed, just in couple of minutes commotion sounded from one side of the camp. It was even directly opposite to the entrance of Avys’ tent so that the enchantments would not completely muffle the sounds. Just as instructed the maids ran out in a disorganised manner to create an illusion of Avys sending her personal guards to scout and reinforce. It was very easy to see through; an action only someone stupid, inexperienced and panicked would do, but Avys chose it anyway because of who she was fooling. Her target was someone prideful to the point of blind conceit; someone who would look down on her enough to be entangled in this pathetic excuse for a trap.

3… 2… 1… "Fancy meeting you here, Palaxhalia," Avys said after she counted down the exact moment where her for would stand in the middle of the room. Too far away to strike, but too deep in to turn back.

"How did you spot me?" a voice filled with unnatural charm sounded from behind her. It was unlike Avys' which attempted to stir desires with each syllable, instead that eerie power served no concrete purpose as it was just a natural part of the being. The owner didn’t even bother muffling their tone.

"I did not," Avys smirked as she turned around. In front of her appeared a beauty in ebony black skin-tight clothes. The few patches of pale white skin peeking from beneath her mask did not surprise Avys, nor did the long ears which identified the assassin as elven. Enough research was done on Avys’ part to know every bit of information available about the assailant “I don’t need senses to spot you if I can predict your every movement.”

“Playing smart, are you?” it would have been the right decision to either go for the kill or flee the moment she was spotted, but elven conceit ran far too deep. The whole society of these purebloods relied on arrogant denial of the truth; they went as far as claiming that they were the supreme race, unequaled by any other. That was especially ridiculous when considering they were at one point in history forced to relocate their homes outside the main material plane as they desperately fled retaliation. Unlike their more amiable kin, wood elves and void elves, the pureblood, or as folk called them doaty, elves were despised more than any other sentient race. And the arrogance of just standing still when discovered was a good example of why.

“Not really. I would love to chat, but the disgust and arrogance in your eyes makes me mildly angry,” Avys smiled and beckoned with her empty hand. Something clicked and a surge of overcharged electricity struck Palaxhalia from beneath before she could react. Something of the sort was of course not enough to paralyse a 4th tier combatant, but it was enough to hold her in place for a split second. In that split second a spear flew from a corner in the tent and mercilessly pierced the elf’s stomach, the velocity pushing her over and pinning her down to the ground. Before she even landed a valley of arrows approached, accurately striking her joints and important nerves in the woman’s hands. Despite being caught off guard she still tried to struggle as mana gathered into her body about to expel the spear and restore the wounds caused by the arrows. That was stopped by a hooded man who placed a hand on her forehead. The figure which appeared out of nowhere was even from up this close indistinct and almost transparent.

“AAARGH,” a scream of agony surged through the tent as Palaxhalia felt every nerve in her body burn to crisp. Then her struggle inevitably ended as she went utterly limp only her head retaining a furious stare. She would need a long period of healing to regain even basic control over her limbs.

“Is that all you have?” Avys at some point stood up and was now waltzing towards the person who was bleeding out on the floor. There was a smirk on her face, but despite her quick victory she was tangibly bored “you are sorely disappointing. It’s not fun when everything works exactly as I predict.”

“Fuck off!” the elven woman shouted and attempted to use the spear piercing her stomach as a coil to electrocute Avys. Instead her magic was unable to penetrate the material specially designed to ward off mana and imploded, opening an even larger gaping hole inside the body and cutting her power clean off.

“It must have been terrible, to be enslaved by that pig of a man. Perhaps even worse than death. I will take it onto myself to grant you freedom,” Avys’ smirk turned savage as she relished in the newfound terror within the elf’s eyes. There was one thing all of the elven races had in common: Their absolute fear of the inevitable. No matter how badly beaten, broken and tortured they would always desperately try to avoid death. It was perhaps some sort of inborn horror that made them dread that fate more than any humiliation or suffering.

“You wouldn’t dare!” the woman yelled back, but fear was already present in her lightly shaken voice. That only added fire to the flame.

“I have done many far worse things, elf,” Avys closed in and took off the woman’s mask revealing her short golden hair as well as a rune covered metal choker around her throat; a slave collar placed there by the founder of house Brinewood over 500 years ago “I saw more last breaths than I can count, yet retribution still fails to arrive.”

“I will kill you!” the woman shouted with newfound wrath.

“Not a particularly good threat considering that was your opening gambit,” Avys just mocked her and forced the woman’s mouth open. Usually her strength wouldn’t be enough for that, but Palaxhalia’s mana was already crippled in the attempt on attack and her body was beyond her own control; she was as feeble as a child. A bottle of orange liquid appeared in Avys’ hand at some point and it was mercilessly poured down the elf’s throat “I call this one ‘dying flame’. My own invention, it got its name because most of the victims beg for death as they vividly describe fire flowing through their veins. I wonder if it can break even your will to live.”

“You! You won’t get a… AAAAARGH,” the fury and fear was replaced by a choir of screams. A music to Avys’ ears as she walked back to her chair, leaving the assassin to her fate.

“A new cup of coffee, please,” she commanded Clarisa and sighed while sitting down “what a disappointment. It would seem I couldn’t accomplish my 4th objective.”

Her first 3 objectives were meant to benefit the Blackburg family while the 4th was her personal one. It was to train her ability to scheme back to where it once was. She didn’t let it show, but the stunt that Irwyn pulled with Alira terrified Avys. From the moment she ventured with Ezax to the North she outschemed and massacred every foe or rival that stood in their way. She snared the most fierce beasts in her traps and avoided every single ambush along the way. Yet she was completely blind-sighted by Irwyn. If his goal was to claim her life then he might have actually succeeded. Avys now finally realised that the comfort of being a duchess gradually lowered her guard until literal childish plots slipped by. Irwyn had minimal resources and support, yet he claimed a victory over the person with overwhelming means and power. The same story as when Avys paved the path of corpses for herself and Ezax.

It finally reminded her of mortality. The familiar terror of encroaching death that Avys was subjected to since she turned 4 years old. The terror which she adored, for it had allowed her to claim her love. And now that it was back within her grasp she would make sure to not let go ever again.