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It had been exactly 10 days since the successful assassination of Amir Erikson, which meant that the royal court was thoroughly on edge. Rightfully so, considering that the heir of the royal family had been so easily killed. Slaughtered in his chambers during the night, the assassin still at large.
In the wake of the crown prince’s death, noblemen and women donned black clothing, veils, and all the pretenses of loss. The royal family was seen as vulnerable and emotionally distressed. However, according to Dominique’s insider source, the king and queen didn’t bother to show their mourning, a rather striking gesture towards their opinion of their late son. The thought made Dominique frown. She was all too aware of the king’s cruelty. After all, she had witnessed it first hand for years now, and she had since she was a child. The king had brought needless destruction to countless lives, slaughtered many, and ruined Dominique’s life. But strangely enough, the fact that he refused to mourn his son still felt extreme, heartless even.
Dominique shortly shrugged the thought off, it was only one more reason to hate the king. One more reason to destroy everything he held dear, and make him watch as his whole world burned. Then, once his kingdom was in shambles, his court and family dead, would Dominique give the king the mercy of death.
After Dominique had finished with him, then death would truly be the sweetest mercy of all.
Dominique smiled to herself, hiding her wide grin behind a glass of merlot she’d just purchased at the bar top of “Smithson’s Pub.” All things considered, it wasn’t a great pub. The food was bland, alcohol was sub-par, and the cleanliness was atrocious. But, the owners were sympathetic towards Dominique’s cause, and through a blackmail threat or two, they had let the ECL station its base in the pub’s basement. A rather convenient and inconspicuous place to hide her assassin organization; Eldom’s Common Liberators.
After finishing her glass of wine, Dominique slipped off her bar stool. Her red silk dress swung gracefully at her hips as she made her way through the crowd of slightly intoxicated men, earning more than a few impolite stares and an occasional whistle. Dominique rolled her eyes at the leering men as she made her way to the back door, key to the basement in hand.
After double checking to make sure she hadn’t been followed, she stuck the key in its keyhole, carefully making her way down the basement stairs after locking the door once more. After she had traveled down a series of long, dimly lit stone stairs, she finally made it to the heart of the basement, and the ECL's base; a bare-bones common room that sat in the center of four adjacent hallways, each of them leading to a series of separate rooms. One led to her office, another to her assassins' respective quarters, the infamous training room, healers quarters, a makeshift kitchen area, and so forth.
It was by no means luxurious, but it was a far finer way of living than struggling though the dark alleyways lining the slums. Dominique knew all too well what lurked in the shadows, and the binding deals forged within them. Even now, years after her her time and the contracts made in the dark confines of desperation, Dominique flinched at her memories. But looking at her clean, established base, she felt an enormous wave of pride swell within her. It had taken years of suffering and promise making, blackmail, lies, and sacrifice to get to where she was today. To get control, to get power.
Dominique vowed to herself now, that'd she'd make sure it was worth it. She would complete her plan, and her years of debt and fear, and the unspeakable things done in the dark would have been for something. She would make sure of it.
"Hey boss," A familiar voice greeted from behind, snapping Dominique out of her thoughts. She swiveled around to see Lyra lounging on one of the couches lining the common area, long legs propped up on the arm of the sofa, her spiky blonde bob pressing against one of the cushions, giving her a distinctly sharp look. Dangerous even. The thought made Dominique grin, she had trained her assassins well, and Lyra was one of her best. As Dominique walked closer, she noticed that Lyra was casually sharpening one of her daggers.
"Hello Lyra, I see you've been busy," Dominique remarked languidly, gesturing towards the knife in her hand. "Been using the training room I take it?"
Lyra smirked. In one fluid motion, she flipped the sharpened dagger up into her hand and quickly jammed it into a sheath at her belt.
"Yes, I've been getting the idea that i'll have to use my knives pretty soon, if we're to advance this master plan of yours. Which will happen... when exactly?"
Dominique just smiled mischievously, not answering the question. “Where is everyone else? I have an announcement to make.”
Lyra gave her a suspicious look, eyebrows furrowing. “Well, I suspect Amber is brewing something in the healer’s quarters, Blake’s probably napping, and knowing your brother, he’s reading in his room.”
Dominique nodded. ‘Will you fetch them for me?”
“Fine,” Lyra groaned, dramatically prying herself off the couch before disappearing down the nearest hallway.
When she was gone, Dominique sat down in her armchair at the head of the room, brushing her cascade of dark curls over her shoulder. She pulled at her silky dress until it draped across her body just right. She didn’t need to look perfect to manipulate people, or to even lead them. But in her experience, it certainly helped.
A moment later, Dmitri, Dominique's brother, entered the room with a thick book in hand. Dominique swallowed a smirk, remembering Lyra's prediction. These days, Dmitri always had his nose in a book, or his head somewhere far away, as if to escape something. Although she couldn't blame her brother for his reserved tendencies, Dominique often worried that his softness would someday kill him. After all, the world loves to exploit the kind-hearted people of the world.
"Lyra said you wanted to tell us something?" Dmitri asked, obviously annoyed. "if it's the thing about the rug in the kitchen again, I swear, I wasn't the one who got blood on it-"
Before Dmitri could finish his sentence, Blake came running into the room, ebony hair bent into a mess and their clothes wrinkled. Again, Lyra's predictions were spot-on.
"What up?" Blake asked, plopping down on the floor. "Lyra said you had news."
Dominique nodded. "I do." She confirmed, watching as Amber and Lyra emerged from one of the hallways, all of her assassins now finally in one place.
"As you know, we've given the royals and their court some time to process the death of their golden boy. But, I feel as though the court isn't as afraid as it should be. They still think they are safe, so long as only the royal family is targeted. But they are not safe at all. As long as they sympathize with the king, nobody is castle is safe," Dominique began, resisting the urge to spit every time she uttered the word 'king'.
"So what do you suppose we do then? To make them afraid?" Blake cut in, obviously intrigued.
Dominique smiled sharply.
"We send a message."
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