A Tamia's Tale - 1:Omen of Death

[Vr1bo]

PROLOGUE

It was a summer day.


The heat was suffocating.

The cicadas kept chirping.

The smell of roses.

A reminiscent dream,

That he can't shake off,

Nor Remember.


Fresh grass brushes his fingers,

Trees are wavering,

The wind is ceasing.


An encounter,

Its beginning.

Its end.​

---

Chapter 1:Kanami

A shadow passed across the sun.


There and gone in an instant—too fast for any eye to truly catch. The figure moved between rooftops in perfect silence, disturbing neither rusted weathervanes nor the pigeons dozing along the eaves. Crossing the gap between buildings in a single, fluid arc, landing without so much as a whisper of displaced air.


That shadow was dressed to feel like a hole in the blue sky.


From the waist down, black cloth wrapped tightly around its legs, tucking into sandals reinforced with thick, painted straw. Each sole was layered and dense enough to muffle even the sharpest gravel. That same dark fabric climbed its thighs, fitted without a single loose thread to catch the wind or snag a ledge. Even the pouches strapped along each leg, carrying blades, tools, and things with no gentle purpose, didn't shift an inch despite the explosive bursts of movement that carried it from roof to roof.


A hint of femininity interrupted the severity of the silhouette. Her thighs lay bare between the high-cut hem of her black kimono and the tops of her thigh-high black stockings. The kimono itself was layered over a deep indigo underlayer that surfaced only at the sleeves and hem, and cinched at the waist by a patterned obi of muted blue-violet, over which a braided red cord was tied in a precise knot at the front. The only color on her entire body. Whether it was a signature or a warning depended entirely on who was reading it.


Then the wind softened, not died, but gentled, as though it too had decided to treat her with care, and it caressed her cheeks as her long black hair came to rest past her waist, briefly unguarded, briefly human.


Her eyes, caught somewhere between silver and gold—molten and pale at once, swept slowly over the walls of the city below.


A stroll, she would have called it, if anyone had thought to ask. Every morning, before the castle fully woke and the servants began their shuffling routines, the shadow of the kingdom's princess slipped out of her quarters and climbed. It had become a ritual by now, as ordinary to her as prayer was to others, and, as she thought, considerably more useful.


The ramparts she now crouched upon had been built in an older era, wide enough to accommodate two guards walking abreast without either brushing the parapet. They were practical things, these walls. She had always respected practical things.


But guarding them, or seeing if a guard was slacking off, was not why she was here.


"Everything seems fine here," she thought while looking through the noble's quarters windows.


She let her gaze drift deliberately across the noble's quarters below. The tall windows were still shuttered at this hour, thin lines of Firelight bleeding through the cracks of one, then another. Someone was awake in the Faeborne household. Probably Uther, the court mage. She noted it without expression and moved on. Even if the man was a trusted friend of Morgann's, the shadow extended her suspicion to everyone equally. Her foreignness made it so that she carried none of the comfortable assumptions that long familiarity bred. She did not know who had always been honorable, who had always been loyal, whose family name was synonymous with virtue in this kingdom's memory. She arrived unburdened by any of it. In a court where everyone knew everyone, and knowing someone too well had a way of making you blind to them, being a stranger was her greatest strength.


The reason she had come to watch the sleeping habits of nobility was not idle suspicion.


A few months ago, the king, Albius Sora, fell ill.


Since then, Morgann, his daughter and the shadow's employer, took the throne to guide the kingdom in these troubled times. With the recent possible passage through the desert after centuries of impossibility, the country bearing the king's name was now open to new civilizations. New roads. New peoples. New ambitions flowing in from civilizations that had existed in isolation long enough to develop. Her own homeland among them.


The situation, and the rudeness of the illness, as well as the symptoms, planted seeds of doubt into the shadow's mind. Having seen many such cases—or at least similar ones on a smaller scale—a treason was the most probable outcome. There were many people in the council, and every one of them held a theoretical claim to succession should the king die without a formal resolution. Morgann was, in the eyes of half of them, a warm body occupying a seat that would soon need to be properly filled.


The timing was, at the very least, extremely convenient.


The shadow exhaled slowly through her nose. Once more, it was a fruitless expedition. She couldn't just enter these houses without causing a scene, and only watching from the exterior wasn't giving results. And besides—


"Oh, look up there, it's…" One of the passers-by below, in rich blue cloth, pointed upward to the roof.


"That dog again? What is she doing here?" Another said, looking up to where the man was pointing.


"You're going to dirty our rooftops with your disgusting feet!" An old man said, waving his cane around menacingly.


She couldn't stay here for long. Those were words and sentences the twenty-year-old woman was used to hearing by now. So much so that in fact, she barely spared a glance at the people down below. Not out of a feeling of superiority, but because of a lack of care.


A care she had buried deep inside for a long time now.


With a sigh betraying her interior struggle, she turned toward the castle. "I suppose I should go back to my lord's side."


Nimble like a cat, the ninja dropped from the roof and landed in the narrow gap between two buildings. A dark alley where no one was watching, amidst the tall buildings belonging to the uptown nobles.


From there, she simply walked. Despite her stature, the woman appreciated the lone, leisurely walks while watching her environment.


A couple of birds nesting on a tree's branch…


The water flowing from the river that divided the city in half…


And the majestic sun, rising on the horizon, past the high hills behind the castle.


A sight that was soon cut off as she passed through the cracks of a secret passage she knew all too well. A door built into the foundation, half-hidden behind a moss-covered buttress, leading down into the castle's lower dungeons. The cells there had been empty for some time now, the kingdom having enjoyed a stretch of relative peace, or at least the convincing appearance of one. She did not use the passage out of sentimentality. It was simply faster, and it spared her the performance of navigating guards and residents who would stop, stare, whisper, or, on occasion, feel compelled to say something.


She had nothing to say back to them. Even if she wanted to.


The underground corridors were cold and smelled of ancient stone, reminding her of the shrines of her home in the mountains. The silence, the sound of her sandals hitting the wet floor, eased her mind as she prepared herself for another day of work.


Despite the darkness, she moved without hesitation, and emerged, through a second door disguised as a section of paneled wall, into the lower servant's corridor.


From there, the castle's morning routines began to filter in. The distant clatter of the kitchens, which worked hard to prepare the meal for a certain council taking place every day. The distinct chatter of maids happily talking while dusting the numerous trinkets of the king. And the distracting smell of delicious food for today's lunch.


The shadow ignored it all.


That was until she became aware of the footsteps coming toward her from the east: bare, quick, graceless, and urgent. She recognized that breathless voice huffing and puffing before she recognized the silhouette.


A habit of hers had been to catalog the way everyone in the castle moved, and Morgann, when something was wrong, sounded like this: like someone who had set aside everything they had been taught about composure and was simply trying to arrive as fast as possible.


Even if she was about to lose her footing.


Morgann's shadow turned and closed the distance between them without hurry, arriving precisely in time. The princess tumbled. Arms received her.


"Your Majesty." Her tone offered the princess something solid to hold onto. "What is the matter?"


Morgann's fingers closed around her forearm. Her shining brown hair was half-undone, and her face open in a way the court was used to seeing. "The young man that arrived this morning!" the princess shouted before she could even catch her breath. "Uncle Marsh saw them take him out. Through the east corridor, he said, and then outside the walls, but he couldn't follow—"


"How long ago?"


"Not long. I came to find you as soon as—"


"How many did Marsh see?"


"Three. Perhaps four. Please, Kanami…" Morgann joined her hands together and looked at her servant with pleading eyes. "Find him!"


Kanami nodded once and waited just long enough to be sure the princess could stand on her own.


"Understood."


And with those simple words of acknowledgment, the girl moved.


Not toward the main gate, but through the window. It was a twelve-meter fall, but she landed with an inhuman facility and suppleness, like a feather falling on the ground, making no sound on arrival. Then, with a single jump, she landed on the roof of one of the nobles' houses, ignoring his comment on how she should get down from there. Some guards even looked at the all-in-black-clothed figure aghast, as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop like a human grasshopper.


"I still can't see them…"


Methodically and rapidly, she scanned the city, street by street, in search of the young man. No sign of urgency or stress was visible on her face, her lips betraying no expression. Just the robotic work she was used to doing, the result of years of experience and training.


Once she landed on the roof of the tavern of the Blue Falcons, she stopped abruptly, gripping tightly the handle of the dagger attached to the back of her belt.


"Here they are."


Was it her instinct? No. While she could be told to have subpar instincts, Kanami was known for her skill in tracking people. Even those she had never met before. She didn't get her nickname of "guard dog" for no reason, being born with an ability to sense the mana contained within people. For in this world existed an energy that slept within every living things, and even some objects. Other countries might give it another name, like chi, or simply life energy, but it remained the same to her. Each individual emitted a certain unique pattern she could recognize.


Some people were also told to be able to use said energy to create miracles, called "magic" here in Sora. Waging war, helping people, or simply discovering the secrets of the universe, magicians used it variously. And in a place like this, brimming with said mages, it was no wonder the kidnappers had one too.


When she had left the castle, Kanami noticed immediately traces of a spell being used near the gate, a camouflage spell she figured. All she had to do was follow the trail.


There, tucked inside a narrow, filth-strewn alley between sagging tenements, stood a derelict little shack. Its walls were warped and rotting wood, patched clumsily with mismatched planks, while its roof sagged under countless holes and missing tiles. Laundry lines heavy with threadbare garments drooped overhead like dusty spiderwebs, casting faint, shifting shadows across the cramped courtyard. The stench of rot, urine, and spoiled refuse clung thickly to the stagnant air, undiluted even by the maze of connecting alleys.


A perfect place to make someone disappear…


Kanami, perched on the tavern, took a moment to assess the situation. A man was posted in front of the door. Light armor, sword on the hilt, looking anxious, ready to pounce on anyone who would dare approach. She jumped from the roof and approached the alley. In the middle of the day, as everyone was watching her, the city, usually loud and brimming with life, went quiet.


They knew that when the dog appeared, trouble wasn't far.


The faces of the passersby turned sour. Disgust, contempt, fear, morbid curiosity… A wave of emotions submerged the citizens. They couldn't do anything but watch. They couldn't do anything but hear their own heartbeats, their own breaths as this creature, completely undisturbed by this turn of events, took a step down from the roof in the middle of the most populated road of the city.


"It's her."


"I know her, she is the guard dog of the princess…"


"Why is she even allowed to quit the castle?"


"How horrible."


Countless voices rose in the silence. But Kanami heard nothing. She was too preoccupied by the shack in front of her, walking in a straight line, ignoring the passerby and the usual chatter surrounding her.


Because once she stepped into the shadowed mouth of the alley, the noise of the city rushed back in all at once, as though a spell had been broken.


"So? How's your mother doing, Jack?"


"Fresh eggs! Best in the region, straight from the farm!"


"I'm telling you, that singer last night—something else entirely!"


Life resumed. The shadow had passed. And the people, relieved, pretended they had never seen her.


Kanami's fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger at the belt as she advanced deeper into the alley. The guard, of course, noticed, as the absence of noise for a few seconds altered him earlier.


"Dammit! They sent the dog!" he shouted in panic.


He didn't waste time unsheathing his weapon, a longsword, and taking a stance to intercept the young woman. Kanami was already moving. She slipped under his swing, dagger flashing. A single precise cut severed his Achilles tendon without mercy. And as he screamed and fell, she drove the blade into his neck, effectively killing him before he even hit the ground.


Then, her ears heard some commotion from inside the shack. She quickly pushed the body aside and prepared herself to intercept the incoming reinforcements. Three men emerged: a spearman in heavy armor, a dual-wielding scimitar fighter in light gear, and a nervous mage hanging at the back.


In this situation, anyone would flee and come back with reinforcements. But Kanami was just assessing the situation, calm and steady as usual, gripping her dagger firmly, barely looking them in the eyes.


"Gareth! You bastard!" The spearman shouted and lunged forward upon seeing his comrade's lifeless body. The other warrior with scimitars followed closely. Kanami evaded the thrust of his lance with a simple step to the side, seemingly unbothered by the other one as well. After all, the one who worried her was the mage.


While stepping forward, brushing against the shaft of the spear, she pointed her dagger at the man's throat. Once the distraction of his range was gone, she could go all out on the remaining closed-range fighter.


That was when the air grew bitterly cold. A mist formed in the back, and dozens of ice spears materialized from it, right above the mage. With a movement of his staff, the deadly creations rained down at lethal speed, forcing Kanami to twist sharply.


Most missed, shattering against the alley stones, but one grazed her left thigh, drawing a thin line of blood. If she hadn't moved at the last second, her leg would have been torn apart, and her life would have ended here. The sting made her flinch for a fraction of a second—long enough for the dual-wielder to close in.


His scimitars sang through the air in a deadly cross, aiming to carve her chest. But at the last second, she snapped a powerful kick into the man's stomach mid-swing, using the impact to launch herself backward into a smooth backflip. The moment she landed, Kanami exploded forward in a burst of speed, black hair whipping behind like liquid ink.


"Esfelto!"


The mage chanted, a ball of fire erupting from his staff right toward Kanami. An undodgeable attack, a sure hit, meant to reduce her to cinders.


The heat reached her face, the flame so bright it could blind her.


But blue spark suddenly surrounded her right forearm.


Not mana, not technology, a power only she possessed flared brightly as Kanami slashed upward with her dagger. The glowing blade cut straight through the heart of the fireball, splitting it cleanly in two. The flames parted around her like water around a blade and vanished into harmless sparks that faded on the wind.


"Impossible—!" the mage cried, eyes wide with shock and terror.


That single heartbeat of disbelief sealed his fate.


Kanami accelerated, a streak of black and crimson. She ignored the two warriors completely, closing the distance to the mage in the blink of an eye to plant her dagger into his chest, piercing his heart.


The wind suddenly lifted itself behind her with a loud noise of metal. Without turning around, she grabbed the mage's now lifeless body and positioned it right behind her. The sound of metal piercing flesh reverberated through her body, as the spearman pierced its friend's corpse, blood dripping down on the stone pavement.


"S-Sorry!"


Shocked, he couldn't even bring himself to remove his weapon.


Using the impaled corpse as leverage, Kanami vaulted upward. Her legs snapped around the spearman's neck in a vicious scissor lock, thighs clamping down hard. As she twisted her body mid-air, she ripped her dagger free from the mage's chest in a spray of blood. The spearman choked, eyes bulging, clawing desperately at her legs.


In one smooth, merciless motion, she drove the dagger down into the side of his neck. Once. Twice. His struggles weakened instantly. She released her leg lock and landed lightly on her feet as the heavy man collapsed in a heap.


Only the dual-wielder remained.


"Raaah!" he roared, charging forward in a frenzy of grief and rage. Both scimitars raised high, he poured every ounce of his strength into the attack. He had watched his comrades fall one by one to this woman, and nothing short of her death would satisfy him now.


But the moment she turned to face him, everything changed.


Her face was lightly splattered with the blood of his friends, yet her expression remained eerily serene. And those eyes… those strikingly beautiful silver eyes were utterly empty. Cold. Hollow. They looked at him as if he were already dead, as if he had never mattered at all.


Terror seized him deep in his veins.


She wasn't even trying. There was no bloodlust, no hatred, no satisfaction. Not even disgust. Just… nothing. To her, they were less than insects.


That realization broke something inside him. His roar faltered, his steps growing heavier with fear even as momentum carried him forward.


Kanami moved to meet him.


She slipped inside the arc of his first scimitar with unnatural grace, making no excess movement. The second blade came down fast too, but she parried it with her dagger, the impact ringing sharply through the alley, then drove her elbow into his throat. He gagged, stumbling. Before he could recover, she twisted low and swept his legs out from under him.


Right before he fell, she drove her hand onto his face and slammed him down onto the paved ground. To pin him further, she brought her knee against his sword arm while the tip of her dagger hovered just beneath his eye.


"Who sent you?" she asked, voice calm and quiet.


The man trembled beneath her. Up close, the emptiness in her gaze was even more horrifying.


"I… I don't know!" he gasped, tears mixing with the blood on his face. "We got a note and a bag of coins! That's all! They said he was just some foreigner! Please… please don't kill me…"


Kanami stared at him for a long second, reading the terror in his eyes. Then, with a swift strike of the dagger's hilt to his temple, she knocked him unconscious.


She rose slowly, wiping the blood from her blade on his tunic before sheathing it.


"..."


A long, soft sigh escaped her lips. The fight hadn't been too hard, but something still grazed her left leg. A shallow cut, nothing that she couldn't fix back home with a bandage—for she hated to rely on this city's healers—but it was a point of improvement.


Kanami rolled her shoulders once, then methodically searched the bodies. Aside from a few coins and cheap weapons, the only thing of value was a crumpled piece of parchment. She unfolded it carefully.


"Capture the young man dead or alive who arrived this morning.

If you succeed, a man will reward you tomorrow.

One thousand gold coins shall be awarded in case of success."


She looked at it thoughtfully, trying to figure out if she recognized this writing style but nothing came to her mind.


"I wonder who's more stupid. The ones who hired them, or these idiots who thought they could handle it…" Another sigh escaped her. She folded the note and slipped it into one of the pouches on her thigh. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Then, she returned into the shack. After kicking aside a filthy rug, she found the trapdoor. The hinges creaked softly as she lifted it, revealing a narrow ladder leading into a dimly lit basement.


Kanami simply jumped down.


There he was.


The young man sat slumped in a wooden chair, wrists and ankles tightly bound with rough rope. He had short black hair, a strange and sturdy brown jacket filled with numerous pockets, and durable blue trousers that looked made with a material she wasn't familiar with. His face was a mess of bruises, one eye swollen shut, his lip split and bleeding.


The truth was that Kanami didn't know this person. Only that he arrived this morning, unexpectedly, from a place far away. And a part of her felt pity, but it soon turned into annoyance.


After one last stifled sigh, she cut his bindings.


His eyes opened.


There, he saw a young woman, her face splattered with fresh blood, wearing black clothes, her long black hair attached. He couldn't see clearly, his head still foggy, but he knew he was out of danger.


The golden eyes looking down at him, filled with quiet compassion despite the violence that still clung to her, told him everything he needed to know.


A hero had come for him.


Was it fate?


Or nothing more than a simple coincidence?


Even years later, Kanami still asked herself that question every time that same man knocked on her door, wearing that sincere, gentle smile of his…