[Completed] Palacia Varius Savat [A Rama Empire short story]

“Ket Savat'Ilen Tekir, the saying went. The Goddess Ket Savat thirsts, and always for blood.”

Almost four centuries have passed since the Craft Plague, but in the underground palace of the Assassins' Goddess, magic still flourishes. The Blades of Ket Savat still exists deep below the streets of Ilianril, and carry out their work in the houses above.

Rohen is a Blade of the Goddess, and skilled at what he does. He is firmly devoted to his people and his home, but as the outside world changes, so does the one in the underground palace- How can you trust in a Goddess, when you no longer trust her people to do right?


7. Part VI

A curse passed Rohen's lips, as he swung himself over the edge of the bridge, and onto the one of the wooden beams beneath it. Once settled on the rafter above the water just below, he held still, hoping to stay undiscovered by those chasing him.

Multiple stomps sounded above him, and he slowed his breathing to mask the sound of it.

Some of them stopped. Listened. Looked.

Rohen drew on the energy around him, crafting it into a barrier and creating a bubble around himself. Woven into the air, he made it so that it would hide his scent, hide his sounds. Channelling the magic through the tattoos on his collar bone saved him time, saved him the risk of the spell going wrong.

Not finding him, the people above continued onwards as one of their fellow guards thought he found another trace of their quarry.

Rohen allowed himself to breathe freely again, and leaned up against the masonry of the bridge. When he turned his head, he could see his mirror image in the river. It's waters were so still and calm, that the surface was almost motionless. His own eyes stared up at him, dark and serious.

Rohen was quite common when it came to mage craft. He did not have a lot of it, and could work no larger spells. But what little he had, he had full control over, and his raw physical skills was above most others in the Palacia. All it had taken was one small mistake though, and he had had hounds and guards coming after him.

Dania would laugh herself silly at his expense, and the thought made him grunt.

He simply had not expected the nobleman to hire so many guards. Nor to have them posted right by his bed during his wedding night! Who in their right mind did such a thing? Not that the bride had seemed entirely scandalised, and had instead seemed to enjoy the effect her and her elderly husband's activities had on their guards.

In fact, that had almost made Rohen's job easier, as he made his way into the dressing room unnoticed.

The trouble started when one of the guards turned his head, and Rohen reflexively took half a step out of sight. When he did so, the floor beneath him creaked, and for a moment, he thought they would mistake it for the bed. But the guardsman took a step forward, to make sure, and Rohen reached for the shadows and magic to conceal himself. The tendrils began enveloping him, just as the guard caught sight of him.

The man roared like an angry boar, and his suntanned face flushed.

“Assassin!” he screamed.

The following chase and the angry shouts about mage craft and murder was hectic and chaotic. He managed to keep away the guards' swords long enough to deliver a knife to the nobleman's neck, and then he made a hasty exit through the window. In the process, he had knocked over a golden chamber pot, and the noise had been enough for the dogs in the kennel to wake.

The guards pounced on his trail, more had come running to from the grounds, and in the end, Rohen found his place under one of the town's bridges. Dogs barked furiously when they were let loose on his tail.

Dania's going to laugh for sure, he thought with a wry smile. Make some comment about how I should be too experienced for this to happen. That it never would for her.

In a strange way, he was looking forward to it.

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