Secrets.

"Again. This time actually aim at your target." The voice that shouted was calm, yet forceful. The one he said them to winced at the harsh words. "Yes Master..." The young boy of barely 12 years picked a blade from the log in front of him and threw it across the clearing at the targeted mannaquin. The blade scraped the target's arm and ricocheted into the darkness that the many torches didn't penetrate.

The man clad in all black standing behind the boy pointed to the direction of the blade. "Retrieve it." The boy took a step forward and Shayd cleared his throat. The boy groaned and hopped into a handstand, walking his way over toward the bush the blade was in on his hands. Upon retrieving it, he returned back and picked himself up before placing it back into the log. Shayd turned his head toward a group of 4 other students, roughly around the same age. "Next." A young girl came stepping forward with a slight hop to her step. She was always full of confidence. "Alright then. Hit the target."

The girl grabbed the blade from the log and threw it down the course, hitting the target in the eye. Shayd tilted his head and let out a small breath. "The target may lose sight, but would not die. Again." The girl, who had at that moment been excited, now set her face into determination. grabbing the next knife, the threw it harder, it landing deep in the arm that the other boy had only grazed. "Retrieve it." She hopped into a handstand and nimbly went after the knife.

Shayd turned to the rest of the recruits. "Run me 10 laps around the grounds and then go to supper." They all took off, including the talented girl. He made his way to the mannequin and squinted at the incision at the eye. At a hundred feet, the soldier had a very prominent eye wound. Shayd went to the back of the head and saw the wound there. Kill shot. He'd never tell the girl though, so he continued cleaning up the supplies and collecting the weapons they had been training with all night.

"The Corrupted is dead." announced a voice from the shadows. Though he seemed as young as the other apprentices, Aemon was much older. At one hundred and twenty, he was still considered an adolescent among dragons, yet even an adolescent dragon could lay waste to an entire town. That was not the kind of work he did though.

Still, Aemon stood out in a crowd. His blood-red hair was easily noticed, as were his mismatched eyes, one blue and the other green. It made his skills at hiding all the more necessary, his steps trained to be silent, very agile and quick. He was dressed in dark clothes, shades of grey to better break one's outline and hide in the night more easily than with pure black clothing.

He held the Corrupted's ring as proof for his master. It had been fortunate that such item had been asked for proof, instead of the head or other body part. They had all burned under the volcano dragon's fire.

Shayd set the various tools into their bags respectively and walked his way toward the spot where Aemon had presented himself. "Good Evening Aemon." With the ring presented, Shayd nodded his head and took it from him, rolling it over in his fingers. He placed it into the pouch on his belt before nodding to the pupil and walking toward the bags. The truth was that he was rather impressed with his pupil, but to give him arrogance would be to build him an early grave. He pointed to the bags and said in his nonchalant voice. "Carry these bags in and tell me of the mission. Were there any complications?"

He looked out into the darkness where he saw one of the boys walking rather than running, trying to get a break in his training. Shayd shook his head and picked up a rock from the ground and chuckled it, nearly braining the child to the tree. He stared wide eyed before sprinting out of view.

Shayd walked into the lavish manor and made his way to his office. He sat down in his chair and looked at Aemon. "Go on then, tell your tale apprentice."

Aemon walked over to the bags and carried them where Shayd wanted. Complications? I fell in wild corruption when the target threw me into a tree, my life expectancy has just shortened considerably and I may or may not end up like that madman. Aemon thought, but he answered otherwise. "There was another man there, but I was able to convince him with a sad story about a boy out to kill his father's murderer. He was able to hold his own against the Corrupted, until I killed him with dragonfire. He thought me a mage."

Not his best job, but at least the contract had been fulfilled. He watched as his master threw a rock at an apprentice who was trying to take a little break in the running. He wasn't so good at throwing weapons, though he could use knives in close combat very well, he preferred to use bows if he had to kill off a target at a distance. Scimitars and bows were his speciality, along with stealth and poisons.

"With all due respect, braining the kid won't make him go any faster, if you miss." Aemon pointed out. Trying to make him blindly respectful was an hopeless task; he was too stubborn to become something so drastically different to what he was.

Shayd furrowed his brow at the story. "Another who held his own against the corrupted? So there was a fight?" He shook his head and let out a breath. "I thought I gave you explicit orders to not fight with the creature. You were to study it, track it, wait for it to sleep, and kill it. What happened to turn this into an all out brawl? This wasn't in the streets, was it?"

The boy's snide comment didn't go unnoticed, but Shayd knew this song and dance well enough already. "I'm afraid you mistake me for yourself, seeing as I... never miss." Shayd stepped behind his desk and sat down, bringing up a bottle of bloodwyne for him to drink. He eyed his pupil and pointed to the chair. "So you were in combat with the corrupted and burned him? I suppose that's the cleanest way to take care of it. What about this man. Will he talk of you to anyone? Or do I need to sweep up behind you like a nanny to a child?" His voice was raising slightly out of annoyance.

"Maybe I should have asked it nicely to go back to sleep? In the middle of the day? I'm sure it would have complied if I had said pretty please!" the teen said sarcastically. "I could have remained out of the fight, risk another life to be lost by the Corrupted's madness, or do the job, even if it was not in the best situation." he replied, not backing off. "It was in the middle of the Cremea Woodlands, the nearest street was miles away." he added. The apprentice had that fierce look in his eyes, determination fuelled by the belief that he had done as best as he could possibly have.

"I doubt the man will talk of this to anyone; he didn't seem to care until the Corrupted attacked him. I am not worried." Aemon answered. Not about that, at least. he thought. The fingers that had been stained by the Corruption itched, a reminder of a vital piece of information he had not shared with his master. He would find a solution, somehow...

"Has there been new contracts since I've been gone?" he asked. While a flying dragon covered ground more quickly than a man on horseback, it still was a long journey, from Revera to the Cremea Woodlands, if one counted the fact that he had had to track down his target instead of flying the whole time.

Shayd's eyes flickered back to the youth and he laced his fingers. "I doubt that the corrupted would have made an attempt on someone's life in the woodlands... No one goes in there without some heavy weaponry with them anyway, like the man you met I'm sure." If the boy kept it up, he'd be going through some more solitary studies. "I suppose you did what you had to. Messily or not." He shook his head and picked the ring from it's spot and rolled it across his desk to the boy. "There, your payment. I have the insignia inked, the gold is valuable if you sell it in the right place."

The boy's question came as no surprise. The little bastard never did like hanging around the manor. Always enjoyed that hunt. "No. No new contracts as of right now. You are to return to you duties as trainer and help with the younglings." He stood up from his spot and pushed open the door, "Walk with me Aemon."

As they walked through the halls, Shayd crossed his arms and said in a low voice. "I'm going to need you to stay here while I take care of a bit of business within the city. An old colleague is studying the corruption and has been attempting a cure of it." He crossed his arms and stopped, "That ring had the insignia of the Corrupted Army. They are a cursed group that recently.... Well they recently burned down an entire city. If we don't find a way to destroy this taint soon, we are going to all be in very deep trouble.

Aemon took the ring and it quickly disappeared in one of his pockets. He had a few places in mind where he could sell it for a good price. He still maintained contact with the fences he had dealt with as a thief. Still, whatever happiness he might have had from being given the ring was quickly wiped away when Shayd told him of his next duty. He preferred to hear the howl of the wind rather than the whine of children, even though he was not so older than the other apprentices.

Before he could protest though, Aemon followed his master out as they walked among the manor's halls. He was quite happy he had not complained yet, for what his master told him was of great interest for Aemon. A cure for Corruption? That was very good news, and another reason why he couldn't remain in the manor... But that wasn't something he could tell his master.

"Can I go too? There has to be a better trainer than me!" Aemon said, though he knew he didn't have a good argument there. Yet he couldn't think of anything else... Apart from a reason he'd rather keep secret, at all costs.

Shayd stopped where he was and crossed his arms. "Now why Aemon... would you wanna do that?" This was a silly question. Of course Aemon would rather go to with Shayd instead of stay here trying to babysit all the kids. Master Shayd didn't just have the 4 that were outside. He also had his many adult assassins that come to and fro. Perhaps it would be best to keep the kid moving. Staying caged up in the house always seemed counter productive.

He was going to say more when a man came strolling up to the pair, sporting a rather large gash on the front of his white uniform. "M-master" The young man went down on one knee and Shayd made an involuntary grab at his nose under his mask. The smell of blood always causing a stir. "Jared, what happened?" The boy seemed barely over 20 years old, a student recently promoted. "We were on a mission to take down a gang group... They are werecreatures master. We weren't prepared." Shayd cursed under his breath and picked the man up and walked him over to a chair.

"The others are staked out, waiting on you Master."

Shayd grunted and looked at Aemon. He pulled out a sealed letter and handed it to Aemon. "You need to fly to the Capital of Revera in the market district. Find Doctor Mercutio. Give him this letter and stay with him until he has a letter to send back. Understood?" He handed the letter before handing the young man to a servant and strolling out of the front door.

Aemon gave his master a "Are you kidding?" look. Did he want Aemon to say outright what both of them knew? Whatever his master expected of him, it was cut short when one of the other assassins barged in. Werecreatures... Troublesome lot, especially those actually cursed. They required the use of inherited silver to be killed. Bloodline curses were never weak. Fortunately, it didn't seem to be the case of those werecreatures; they sounded more like the bitten type. Much easier to deal with.

Aemon took the letter Shayd gave him, though he did not know if he should smile or be concerned by the recent development. He opted with neutrality and tried not to dance with joy. "Understood master, I won't disappoint you!" Aemon promised, while thinking on how lucky he was. Maybe it wasn't just with dice and card games.

He left quickly himself, walking away until he was certain none could see him before transforming into his dragon form. Because of his black scales, Aemon flew among the clouds on much of the way to the capital. He flew without stopping on hIs way there, transforming into his human form when he reached the capital. He landed a fair distance away and did the rest on foot, soon entering the city itself. He was back in his dark clothes, with his scimtars and bow and most importantly, the letter.

Now to find the Doctor. He walked towards the market district, keeping to the shadows, his eternal companions.

Living in this town was going to be the death of the doctor, he just knew it. The man dressed in his usual business attire paid for the ingredients he got and made his way down the street toward his house. The whole way down the street, people kept calling, "Good evening Doctor!" or "My son is feeling much better! Thank you Doctor!" So many people had come to visit him that he was something of a slight celebrity in the local area. The only thing that made it in consolence was the discount he got on his ingredients for his various experiments.

He walked with his bag over his shoulder all the way back to his manor, waving and smiling at all who wanted his attention. He was sure to have 10 people standing out the door tomorrow asking for a remedy to some stupid ailment. "oh I stubbed my toe and the nail's black" "Oh my son has a cough" "Oh I don't know how that got up there truly doctor, I must have sat on it on accident." Such idiots these people were, really.

Trying to find a man while only knowing his name was not going to be an easy task, especially if he continued to avoid speaking to others and remain in the shadows. Yet, as luck would have it, he heard the thanks of people addressed to a man as he walked by, calling him Doctor. Still, there might be many doctors in the city, but Aemon decided to follow that one. He seemed to be going home, perhaps it was better to approach him before he did.

Aemon stopped following and made his way through side streets and the top of buildings, using his superior agility to cover the ground quickly, and soon he had reached an alley that the Doctor would need to pass if he continued that way. Indeed, he was soon a few feet away from the teen.

"Doctor Mercutio?" he asked, though he stayed in the shadows. He had chosen not to wear his hood, that would have been ridiculous, and ask for trouble. His clothes were undoubtedly dark though. While "assassin" would not be the first word to come to mind, it was nonetheless odd, especially on one as young as Aemon.

Dr. Mercutio jumped back a mile as the teen appeared beside him. He grabbed at his chest and stared at the youth. "Yeah... yeah that's me. What is it that you want?" He leaned against the wall, breathing a bit harder now. Once he regained his composure he looked the boy over and analyzed him. "May I ask who you are?"

He noticed the dark clothing and shook his head. Surely, the boy didn't have something that should require his attention this late at night. "Go on then, tell me what it is."

That never got old. Aemon smiled when he saw the reaction of the Doctor, it made sneaking up on people all the more fun. Still, there was business to be done, and quickly if Aemon wanted to get rid of his own corruption soon... Preferably before it decided it liked its new host.

"An old college of yours wanted you to have this. Pressing matters prevented him from coming in person." Aemon said, and handed him the letter he had been entrusted by Shayd. He stepped back, though not completely in the shadows. More of his face could be seen, especially his unique hair and mismatched eyes that were bright with intelligence and alert.

Contrarily to his usual behaviour, Aemon was strangely silent. Perhaps it was because of how important this situation was for him. It made him look solemn and quiet, something he rarely was, even when trying.

Mercutio looked the boy over at his words. "An old Colleague?" He stretched out a hand and grabbed the letter. His eyes glanced Shayd's crest and he quickly stuffed it into his jacket. "Yes then, you should probably come with me." He briskly turned around and headed toward the manor, a sense of excitement and of slight worry to his gait.

Upon entering the home he quickly tore the letter open and felt his mouth open slightly. "Dear Benetiva, It would seem your early hypothesis that the corruption did not alter the mind was incorrect. The corrupted army that we've been tracking set fire to a city a week ago, survivers saw the wreckage themselves. Find your cure soon, or the Assassins will be forced to attempt an eradication to any corrupted found. If you can prove they are still human, then do so quickly."

The Doctor placed the letter on his desk and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright... Come with me then." He walked over to a rather large painting that stretched the whole way to the floor. He grabbed an edge and it swung out like a door, showing a staircase that led down. "Come, come." He walked down the stairs to where a man was sitting in a chair, strapped down. "Good evening Doctor.... Come to use more magic on me? Or have you finally given up and are going to kill me?" The man had a small smile on his face, and a black streak that covered his left shoulder. He was dressed in nothing but a cloth that covered his manhood.

"Apprentice, I'd like to introduce you to Golen."
The man looked at the boy and gave a smile. "Pleasure of course. Perhaps you can convince the Doctor that tying me up isn't necessary."

Aemon followed the man, his steps mere whispers as he moved thanks to the training given to him by Shayd. His time on the streets had taught him a very important lesson; trust no one, and so he did not trust the Doctor, even if he was an old colleague of Shayd's. While his scimtars were the weapons he used in a fight, an assassin had other ways to kill. One of Aemon's favoured way was poison, and such poison was ready at the first sign of betrayal.

He beheld the strapped down man, keeping his expression neutral even though the black stain on him gave a good indication as to who he was. Or rather, what he was. "That depends Golen, on why you are tied up." Aemon answered. The boy was no fool, even at such a young age.

The Doc made walked over to the man and gave him a slight pat on the head. "Right now he is under some heavy sedation magic. A normal man would be out cold, but for him, it just calms his anger at being captured. You shall not be allowed out of your seat though good sir...." He looked over at Aemon and pulled out the letter again. "This is from your master, it says, 'Mercutio, the serum that you sent was wrong. It didn't heal the corrupted that you captured, it merely made it worse. I had to send my apprentice to eradicate it. I'd suggest trying again, but with the reversal effect." The Doctor shook his head and threw the note to the side. "Seems that my last breakthrough was none other than a humanity stifler rather than elixer..."

With a good bit of effort, the doctor shifted his desk so that it was beside the corrupted's spot, bringing with it a lot of knives and scalpels. "Alright then... back to it." He began dissecting the arm of the corrupted, the man staring off into space as if he felt nothing. "Lets see..." With a good quarter sized piece of his arm in his hands, he placed it on a dish and set it on the desk. "Watch Aemon, as the flesh seems to mold itself over. The corruption replaces the missing tissue with..." The black blood seemed to bubble and fill the hole until a rather grotesque looking boil was there. After a few minutes, the boil lowered itself, hardening as a replacement for the chunk missing. "Fascinating.... Isn't it?"

"So that's why they're so damn hard to kill." Aemon thought out loud. The bastards could regenerate, or at least, the corruption could. That was why the man had kept fighting when Aemon had delivered him a critical wound; the reason why he had barely noticed it was because the wound was regenerating just as he was fighting... or so it seemed to the young dragon assassin.

"It does have limits though." he remarked. His dragon fire ability had made short work of the corrupted. There were very few things in the world that could remain unaffected by the breath of a volcano dragon. Even metal melted under its flames and water was transformed into steam. Not that he would mention that tiny detail to the doctor.

"How is the corruption able to regenerate? Where does it take the tissue from? It can't conjure up flesh from nowhere."

"My my, such curiousity from such a young mind.." He looked over and looked at the boy. "Do you see how the man has black blood? It doesn' bleed like normal blood. It thickens around the wound... gives an instant healing quality." He poked the man again, he rolled his head around singing a song. The doctor walked over to the other side of the table and let out a quick laugh. "I wonder though, how it is that such a young man such as yourself managed to kill something so... resilient. I'd love to hear the tale." His voice drawled slightly as he looked over the boy.

He ran a hand through his hair however and walked over to the man. "Perhaps this will work though..." He grabbed the needle from the table and stuck it into the man. "If perhaps I can make the blood separate by thinning it..." The man's arm suddenly began to leak black blood, the clot beginning to melt within his arm. "Oh.... It's not separating." The man continued to sing until his head slumped forward and the floor was covered in his blood. "Thinning the blood makes corruption stop clotting and causes immediate death of the subject..." He scribbled something on paper and handed it to Aemon. "Give this to your master. He will find it useful." He shooed the young man before grabbing the chair the dead man laid on and dragged him out the back door to be burned.