A bastard son should never step foot in the house of his lord father, but here I was, at the gate, about to see the man who had once cast me aside.
I shouldn't be this nervous. He was the one who had called me here. Yet, my heart pounded so loud I swear the ground was shaking beneath my feat. I'm not a coward, I told myself. So why is this scaring me?
A guard had spotted me, and approached me. Oh gods. How do I explain myself if I am recognized? I may not be the helpless kid I was ten years ago, but I am still the child of a powerful lord and his concubine. This was not where I belonged.
The guard looked me over. I held my breath.
"Follow me," he said. "I will take you to my lord." He opened the gate for me, and I walked through, wordlessly. My father had most likely given instructions to not make idle small talk, and for that I was grateful.
I ran my fingers over the ruby pendant that hung from my neck. Mother had pinched pennies for over two years to get this for me, and I didn't like to think of what else it had cost her. The gemstones that enabled magic were hard to come across, and cost a pretty fortune.
I followed the guard into a side door of the mansion, down some stairs and into a subterranean layer. Despite being underground, the corridor was well lit and smelled as fresh as the chilly early spring air outside.
The guard opened the grand door at the end of the hall, and went inside. I did the same. The first thing I noticed was this room was lit with oil lamps, not electricity. I was used to having to light one when the electricity flickered, but this was a lord's mansion. Was it just an aesthetic, then?
The warm glow of the lamps illuminated the silhouette figure on the other side of the room, but kept his face hidden in shadow. He was sitting at the head of a conference table of exquisite warm wood- perhaps mahogany.
"My lord," the guard saluted, and then bowed. "I present you your guest."
I stumbled to follow suit. "My lord," I said, and clumsily knelt.
"At ease. You may stand."
That voice. I could never forget it. A cold and confident tone devoid of all compassion and empathy. That was the voice of my father.
I got to my feet, unsure of what to say.
"Thank you for coming, Evander," he said.
My name sounded so odd with that tone, malicious but calm and collected.
"The pleasure is mine, my lord," I answered.
It felt strange referring to him as 'father' in my head. He was nothing of the sort to me. Perhaps I should just call him by his title and surname instead. Lord Mustafa stepped forward, into the light.
"Please sit," he said. "I have a task for you."
I settled into the chair at my end of the conference table. I was face to face with him for the first time in ten years.
"You've grown into a fine young man," Mustafa smiled. "I've heard you make your living as a thief. A very interesting sort of thief. Is this correct?"
I hesitated.
"Don't worry, I'm not the police."
His words flowed so effortless. Each one was meticulously thought out. I responded, "What is it you want from me?"
"I am getting close to retirement. Someone has to keep the family business alive, and although she's good at carrying out orders, leadership doesn't suit Emilia." Mustafa noticed my keen interest at the mention of my half sister's name. "She just turned sixteen. Like most teenage girls, she has a, let's say complicated, relationship with her father. Quite an interesting child, that's for sure!"
I would not be fazed by him. He was trying to lull me into a false sense of security. He had to be.
"Anyways, Evander, thieves know things. They pick up on things that the rest of society doesn't. They listen to things that shouldn't be overheard. Many also are charismatic when they choose to be. And given the specific things you steal, I imagine you are quite the charmer.
"Lady Mustafa is on her deathbed. When she inevitably passes, she still won't have bore me a son. I need an heir. An heir that can deal with our trade of the exchange of people. Someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty. Preferably someone with charisma. I was thinking, perhaps a thief?"
I had heard all that I needed to hear. "Thank you for blessing me with this gracious offer, my lord, but I'm afraid I must decline."
"Oh?" Mustafa raised an eyebrow as I stood up. "How is my beautiful Deirdra doing?"
"Mother is... Is fine," I answered.
"I know of her, ah, issue with opium."
I froze.
"I have a new medication from some, ah, friends of mine. I would easily be able to help Deirdra."
When I was eight, the man in front of me had nearly killed me and Mother. We barely managed to stay alive. We had endured ten years of life just managing to survive. All thanks to him.
What was different now?
"I want you by my side. It was a mistake to cast you out all those years ago. I didn't want to. My wife made me. I valued her over you, and for that, I apologize, my son. I will give you your birthright back. I will right this wrong."
His voice strained with emotion. He couldn't make this up with this much conviction... Could he?
"What do I have to do?"
Mustafa glanced down at the table, and I noticed a sealed envelope. He slid it over to me. "There's someone I want you to bring to me."
I tore apart the envelope, and half a dozen pictures spilled out. They were blurry screencaps from security videos, but I recognized what each photo had in common.
"I didn't know you went through such effort for concubines," I said. I squinted at the picture, trying to discern the young woman's features better.
"I do put in a lot of effort when hand selecting my women, but she's not my type. She's far more valuable for another reason."
"Oh?" I said, genuinely curious.
"The file's in there. Read it. All I need you to do is deliver her to me. You don't need to worry about anything else."
I scanned the document. When I finished, I was doubtful. "You're telling me this girl... has a kind of magic we've never seen before?"
"Correct. She works at an assassin's guild, and even the leader doesn't know of her unique gifts. She does a marvelous job at hiding it. But, that doesn't matter. Such magic is of interest to certain groups- groups of people who will pay well for such an individual."
"Why not just capture her yourself?"
"You're not in a position to question my authority. However, it is a valid point. This girl isn't normal. She's crazy. My kind of crazy." He laughed. "Believe me, I've tried to capture her. She's smart. But, I think I've found her weakness. She doesn't understand emotion well. Simple task really- make her trust you. I don't care how you do this. If you bring her to me, I will pay a handsome reward. Fifty thousand jin in advance, fifty thousand more upon completion."
My jaw dropped at the amount.
"Pocket change for me, really, but it should be enough to take care of Deirdra until you get back. Even if we do decide to part ways after this, you get to keep the cash."
He was up to something. It was obvious. Mustafa wasn't a generous man.
"I'll think about it," I said.
Could I really turn this up?
"You won't get an offer like this again."
"I'll think about, my lord."
Mustafa sighed. "I'll give you twenty four hours."
"Thank you, sir. May I take my leave?"
The lord smiled. "Dismissed. Remember my son, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Do not let it slip away."
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