A mercenary works for anyone, as long as they have coin to pay for your work. You have to leave your morals and conscience at the door. Survival didn't care about the arbitrary laws of Man. After all, a 'murder' becomes a' mercy killing' under the right context. A 'moral stain' becomes a 'necessary evil' when your own head is on the line. No one cares about your righteousness after the axe severs your neck.
Survival of the fittest, and all those cliches. In my world, you did what you had to, if you wanted to see another sunrise. If you had a problem with that, then you go your way, and I'll go mine, and we won't have a problem.
So this gig was just like any other. A paid patron who needed a job done. So what if the guy was Undead? There were fates worse than Death, and believe me, in those cases, Death was a blessing. Quick and quiet, no complication and no scandal. That's how I like it.
Unfortunately, this time, there was one catch. The patron hired a priest to make sure the job was done. What did I say about the laws of Man? They're even worse when they're based on imaginary Gods.
"Have your holy water and your beads ready, Sister. If there's a soul, you might want to protect yourself," I told her.
Sister Mary only nodded. Her pristine white robes shone like a beacon in the darkness, and her blonde curls tumbled past the edges of her hood. Her angelic features were almost too perfect, the kind that inspired painters to rush for their colors and canvases. Yet there was a cold aura to those bright blue eyes. A hint of religious zealotry that set my teeth on edge. Her crusade against abominations pleased her God, but this was more than just to fill a heavenly quota.
No, I had the feeling this whole assignment was personal. And what did I say about making things personal? It only complicates your life.
"The Undead have no souls to save," she replied, her voice like soft steel. "They are already Damned. If I were you, Hunter, I'd worry about your own."
"I belong to no God, but I appreciate your concern all the same."
Those blue eyes flickered towards me for a brief moment. Was that pity in her gaze? No, not really; she didn't have the time or the inclination to spare. I was surprised to see a hint of wry humor and maybe the slightest bit of irony. At least she withheld the usual speech about turning towards the Salvation of the Light. I'd make a lousy convert anyway.
I felt, more than saw, the shift of shadows across the stones of the courtyard. Sister Mary raised a hand to the gates and gave them an invisible push. They parted without a sound.
"Interesting; the hinges are oiled and the metalwork well kept," she said. "Someone has been taking care of the grounds, all these centuries past. Perhaps they have Undead groundskeepers who still follow their Master's last command."
"Maybe. At least it looks like they keep the place clean enough." I scanned the area around us. "Any wards or curses close by?"
Sister Mary shook her head. "None that I can detect. Either they do not expect trouble...or are arrogant enough to think they need no defenses against it."
"Or maybe they just want to be left alone. Let's do what we need to do and get out of here." She had said she hadn't detected against any wards or charms, but it didn't mean they weren't there. Even a supposedly powerful God like hers couldn't pick up on everything.
We crossed the courtyard and skirted around the marble fountain in the center. The basin was long dry, and the crumbling remains of cherubic angel statues littered the bottom. Sister Mary made a gesture of protection as we passed. The statues stayed where they had fallen.
The main building ran from north to south, with the two wings branching off east and west. The cookhouse and guard house stood detached and in front of the eastern wing, with the stables and guest quarters behind the western wing. As far as I could tell, there were no loose stones, no broken windows, no debris to be seen. Someone took care of every structure on this estate, and not just the grounds.
The only thing missing was living people. I expected to see a guard or a guest on a late night stroll along the brick paths. The only sounds were the wind and our silent footsteps.
We climbed the steps to the main entrance. A solid door with three knockers set at varying heights. A gold one near the top, a silver one at the middle and a bronze one at about knee level. Quite odd, but it was perfect if you had guests from every mortal and immortal plane.
Sister Mary raised her hand to use the knocker, but her hand hesitated. I saw it at the same time.
The door stood open just a crack, just enough for someone to push it open.
"It seems that we are expected," she said.
"Then I suppose we shouldn't disappoint our hosts," I replied.I put my hand lightly at the dagger at my side. "Shall we, Sister?"
A cold smile flashed across her perfect features as she put a hand on the door.
The #vssfantasy prompt word is "becoming." Moonlight bathed the nursery. A silver light diffused through the trees and touched every leaf within. My Guide guided me down the dirt path. My ears caught a hint of harp music, with a soft melody of pipes and flute.The sharp smell of fresh rain and spring dew tickled my nostrils. All of my senses told me I was outside, under the bright full moon. I saw no signage or any directional arrows, but before I knew it, the path ended at a wide, green meadow. "Where are we?" The Guide smiled. She tossed her head and her long lavender braid sparkled with glitter. "We are close, please follow me." Before I could say a word, she was down the path. Her feet didn't even touch the ground; her white diaphanous robe shifted with the wind. I scrambled to catch up. Unfortunately for me, my Human capabilities were limited in the Fae realm, and I had to use my own two feet. "I'm glad you responded to our Call. Some ar...
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