The heavy oak doors of the Assassin’s Guild creaked open as I stepped inside, the scent of blood and damp stone filling my senses. The air was thick with murmured conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional sound of blades being sharpened. I barely paid it any mind.
I walked straight to the counter, dropping two
heads
onto the wooden surface with a dull, wet thud.
The
clerk
, a lanky man with tired eyes, raised a brow. “Gregor the Red… and…” He leaned closer, his gaze narrowing at the second head.
His expression
changed.
“The Black Reaper?” He exhaled sharply. “Shit, Seraphis. Do you ever take a break?”
I smirked, rolling my shoulders. “Breaks don’t pay.”
He let out a low chuckle before jotting something down in his ledger. “Well, this one’s a
big
payout. The Guild will need to verify his identity, but assuming everything checks out…” He counted a stack of coins before sliding them toward me. “This is your share for Gregor’s head. You’ll get the rest once we confirm the knight.”
I pocketed the coins without looking. “Fine.”
The clerk glanced at my
bloodstained cloak
. “You might want to clean up before someone mistakes you for another bounty.”
I
snorted.
Maybe he had a point. My current outfit was getting
ragged.
The loose tunic and pants were practical, but they weren’t exactly
intimidating
.
I needed something
better.
Forging an Assassin’s Uniform
I spent the next hour wandering the town’s markets, picking out materials. High-quality
black fabric
for flexibility, reinforced
leather plates
for defense, and fine
red belts
for a striking contrast. I also gathered enchanted thread—perfect for creating something
self-repairing
and
self-cleaning.
At a tailor’s shop, I found
ornamental silver feathers
that caught my eye. Something about them felt
right.
A white raven.
By the time I returned to my small rented room, my arms were filled with supplies. I locked the door behind me, laid everything out, and
got to work.
My hands moved with practiced efficiency. Stitching. Weaving. Reinforcing.
Layer by layer,
the outfit took shape.
When it was done, I held it up in the dim candlelight.
A black commander’s uniform.
Midnight black fabric, tailored to fit my form without restricting movement.
Reinforced
hidden plating
sewn between the layers for protection.
Red belts and accents
wrapped around the waist and shoulders.
White raven emblems
stitched onto each sleeve, symbolizing both secrecy and death.
A back piece resembling
white wings
, purely decorative but adding an unmistakable presence.
I ran my fingers over the fabric.
Perfect.
Next, I crafted a
black mask
that would cover my mouth and nose, leaving only my
piercing white eyes
visible.
Then, a
silver hair ornament
—a delicate metal piece that fit around my head like a crown, subtly reinforcing my identity as the
White Raven.
When I finally slipped the uniform on, it fit like a
second skin.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I studied my reflection.
This… felt right.
Back at the Guild
The moment I walked into the Guild, I felt eyes on me.
The whispers started immediately.
“Is that Seraphis?”
“What’s with the new look?”
“Damn… she looks like a commander.”
I ignored them and made my way to the
Guildmaster’s office.
When I entered, the old man was seated behind his cluttered desk, arms crossed. His sharp
amber eyes
studied me before flicking to my outfit.
His brow arched.
“Seraphis,” he said, his voice lined with curiosity. “I heard you were gathering materials. Now I see why.”
I stepped forward and spread my arms slightly, showing off the uniform. “I needed something better. Functional. Durable.”
He leaned forward, rubbing his chin. “And the
white raven
?”
I shrugged. “I like ravens.”
He let out a low chuckle. “A fitting choice.” His gaze sharpened. “It suits you.”
For a moment, he said nothing more. Just studying me, as if seeing something
beyond
just the clothing.
Then, a small smile touched his lips.
“Your next mission will be soon, White Raven.”
I nodded.
I was ready.