Ch. 3.1 (Liv) - An Assassins Thoughts 

I watched from the darkness as Orilis entered court. I always hated these days, watching him play his role with such forced ease made me sick. The obliviousness of the nobles and high classed men and women only made it all the harder to hide my distaste. Although I doubted anyone could really see the strain behind the mask except me. 

Classes decided by blood, granted with Orilis being the exception, meant they were all pompous fools. 

My lip curled in disgust as Orilis’s “fanclub” surrounded him. I rolled my eyes, not bothering to focus on Orilis anymore. I had no intention of watching him struggle to escape the mob of women that were intent on gaining his hand in marriage, if only to be royalty.

The only difference between the maids serving their employers was the family in which they were born. The class you were born into was defined by the class of your parents. If you were born into the lower class, you were the lower class. And if you tried to marry or bargain your way up the system, you were guilty of treason, being a whore, a liar, and a manipulating witch. 

It was a common occurrence for a noble family or higher class to punish members of the lower classes for such things. And while I had always thought the system was unequal and meant only to keep those in power, well, in power, I could not disagree with the logic behind those who originally created the system. Greedy bastards, yes, but they were smart bastards, so when they saw that their power would only last to the end of their lifetimes, they devised a system to make sure their bloodlines would remain in power for all eternity. 

Bloodline is status and status is money. In turn money means influence, and influence means power. And in this world, power is everything. It was the only lesson my father ever bothered to teach me, I thought bitterly. So while I cannot appraise those who created the system, I can use it to my advantage. 

I thought back to when my mother passed, the day I learned that valuable lesson, I was only nine years old. I remember the vividness of my fathers change. I had never looked enough like him for my father to believe that my mother hadn’t had an affair. She had protected me from him. His drunken rages, his beatings. She took it all to keep me safe. So when she died, all hell broke loose.

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He dragged me by my hair, the hair my mother had always said reminded her of the golden glow of sunsets. The ones she was forbidden to leave the house to see. 

He dragged me to a pub, his favorite pub, where they were waiting. 

“Oh dear, feisty one isn't she?” the tall one asked, he was lean and had a cruel smirk. I would soon learn him to be my mentor, Arivis. 

I heard my father chuckle overhead, “Eye that she is, perfect for the job.” 

The other man, stout and muscled in build joined in my fathers chuckle, “if she even survives,” he said with something close to amusement. 

I was going to be sick. 

I wanted to run, I wanted someone to help. But no one in the pub made any move to stop my father as he signed away my life to a man I had never met. 

I panicked, beginning to struggle, “Let me go!” I yelled. My father held firm and the tall man leaned down to my level, his voice evening out, an attempt to calm me, to me it sounded scary, like the stories my mother used to tell me about strangers.

 “Your father needs money, we agreed to give him half of whatever you make. In exchange, you become a member of the guild.” 

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