"Arcane comes in many forms. It can be the power to control elements, conjure mystical creatures, or reinforce objects. Every realm has its own share and kind of arcane."

- A Guide to Arcane and Mana IX, pg. 174

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The strong smell of beer and tobacco greets me as I enter the tavern. It's awfully noisy in here. You either hear incomprehensible yelling or rowdy laughing — the typical pub ambiance. Thin clouds of cigar smoke envelope the room. Although it's only a small shack, I'm glad that I've entered such a merry place.

Wooden tables dot the first floor. Almost every seat is taken. Lamps are fastened in every corner, illuminating the room. A group of people are flocked around a huge slab in the middle. Gamblers wave pieces of paper and finalize their bets. Curious onlookers add up to the fuss as well.

Maybe I'll be joining them later. Who knows? A few lucky shots and my swindled purse might just grow into a fortune.

Treading through the crowd, I tried my best to look casual. The last time I visited a pub didn't go too well. It was horrible. I accidentally lit a wench's clothes on fire because I got too eager. Tonight, I just hope mistakes never hit the same person twice.

My thoughts are cut off when I bump into somebody. I quickly bow my head to hide my face. "Pardon."

A soft hand caresses my face. "What brings you here, boy?" The speaker is a woman. Suddenly, her hand started creeping down my body. My chest starts to feel hot. It won't be long until she reaches the fortress of my manhood. I shove her away and weave through the thick crowd.

I can still hear her muttering curses and insults.

And then I notice.

Two hooded figures clad in black cloaks, seated from a fair distance away. They appear to be talking but I know better. You don't enter a tavern just to chitchat. The fact that there are no drinks in their table's suspiciously alarming.

In addition to that, they seem to be intently looking at my direction. I'm not sure. Unfortunately, the dim light's hidden their faces quite well. I catch sight of another figure with the same cloak in the stairway. Though he's busy flirting with a pub whore, it's unusual that he still has his hood on.

The constable's warning clicks in my mind.

I feel uneasy all of my sudden. The strange sensation creeps all over my body. Yes, I'm used to being chased by Lazaddon's men but not here in Sothens. Not even once. Their presence is simply troubling that the hairs on my neck rise to their ends.

I clutch Shadespierce on my waist to make sure she's still there. Too my relief, she is.

So, I take a seat beside the server's table, trying to look comfortable as I could be. Bottles of beer, wine, and other kinds of beverage line up in neat rows on the shelves. A man in his middle ages is seated beside me. He's drinking with all his soul as if there's no tomorrow to come. Wench. I wonder how depressed this person is.

I motion to the pubtender, who's somehow occupied chatting with a customer. "A mug of drake beer, please."

"Ah, we got a fine young lad here," the old man says. The evident stench of liquor invades as he faces me. His thick beard's wet with root beer.

"What's the matter, old man?" I reply but my attention's still fixed on the hooded figures.

"Drake beer," he sighs. "I see you're not from here. We Sothenians call it dragon's blood. Tastes so bloody dominant and bitter and smells awful like spoiled pumpkin juice. Despite that fact, it's still a favorite of warriors 'cause it replenishes strength and vigor. Costs a wee bit of extra gold though."

The tendant hands me a mug filled with bubbling red liquid. I take a sip that burns my throat. "I couldn't agree less."

"'Course! Mind if you treat me a drink or two, son?" he whispers as he leans close enough only for me to hear. "I was a knight of the Fifth Order in my days. Had not some bloody Vajra ripped one of my legs away, I would still be of service." He pulls his tattered trews to reveal a wooden leg fastened to a stump on his thigh.

"Fine. One more drake beer, please."

"Thanks, son. Whoopsie. Didn't know you got friends here," He smiles, eyes darting behind me.

I quickly turn the other way. Wicked bauchi. I let my guard down. It's not surprising to see the man at the stairs in front of me now. He's built exactly like a real warrior and his aura's intimidating like hell. Annoyingly, my heart won't stop from pounding. I slightly clench my fists to contain my nervousness.

It's useless. I'm totally screwed.

"Something's troubling ya', mate?" The man takes off his hood. He has scars that look like claw marks across his face. He grins, revealing a set of crooked teeth and a couple of piercings on his upper lip.

My fingers slowly reach out for my broadsword. "None of your matters if there's any."

"Kids these days. Where art yar' mann—

His blade slices through in a flash. I parry it with mine. Sparks fly as iron and bronze clash. Gritting my teeth, I hold my ground. The tip of his falchion gleams like a hungry beast, inches away from my throat.

"This'll be over quickly if ya' surrender yarself at once, Merlin."

The crowd roars wild with excitement. When did this turn out into a show?

With a blade just a breath away from my neck, I didn't dare answer. Beads of sweat drip my forehead. If it goes through, I'll be damned. All those years of running away will be over. No. I won't let my life end like this.

I quickly rotate my sword, shifting the direction of his falchion's weight. The blade slides and locks at the guard of my hilt. Grabbing the opportunity, I dig my fist into his gut. He gasps as air drains from his body. Stumbling, he drops the sword and curls on the floor.

The crowd has gone wild by now.

Suddenly, a strong force slams my head to the table. Glasses shatter. Wood cracks. My vision goes white for a moment. Another hooded man rounds up my hands behind me. Before I can react, he twists it forcefully. I scream in pain. He twists it even more. Hot tears run down my cheek. I let go of my sword.

Please don't tell me he's broken a bone.

His comrade jumps over the table and points his sword at me.

"Boy, nice try on putting up a fight and bringing down Seymour on your own. It's actually not bad at all." The cold metal brushes my chin. I struggle to get away but the grip's tighter than goo. "But you're coming with us whether you like it or not."

Scoffing, I try to force a smile. "That's not for you to decide."

My hands instantly begin to feel hot. In an instant, I conjure flames in my palms. The other man jumps in surprise, losing his grip in the process. I quickly turn grab his hood to pull him over. Then I yank a knee into his abdomen. A sharp scream escapes his mouth as he rolls on floor. The crowd groans in disgust. To be honest, he screams like a girl.

"Not bad, mate." The last guy swings his sword. Dodging to the side, I swiftly follow up a punch to his jaw. Instantly, the wind gets knocked out of him. His eyes flutter before he drops together with the sword. Wench. I overdid it again.

Picking up my sword, I turn to the man who held me before. Pain and fear are both written all over his face. Spinning the sword, I chuckle, emphasizing a nasty intention in my smile.

"Please, have mercy! They just hired me!. I really don't want to harm you!" He cries with his hands raised.

A sharp icicle materializes in my hand. "Who ordered you to kill me? Who are you working for?

I already have Lazaddon in mind. All I need is his confirmation.

"No it's not Lazaddon. Please lower your weapon and cancel your arcane, Merlin," a voice behind me answers. It's the man I punched in the gut. If I remember correctly, his name's Seymour.

"Glad that you've recovered." I say with sarcasm.

To my utmost surprise, he kneels before me with falchion drawn in a yielding manner.

"You try to chop my head off, and now you treat me like I'm royalty. What's wrong with you?"

"Forgive me. Time is scarce and we need to talk. I suggest ya' save the arguments for later."

Holy scite. He wants to talk? Well, he certainly didn't use the best approach. Yet, people rarely want to have word with a criminal like me so it might not be bad to hear him out.

"Fine." The icicle melts and damps the floor. "I'm listening."

He stands up and heads for the stairs. "Can we use the attic?" He asks the tendant who nods vigorously nods at once.

"Follow me, Merlin."

| ~ |

Seymour leads me to the tavern's rooftop.

Most lamps inside the houses are still lit. Some people are passing by the tavern but nobody notices us. I feel a chill as a soft breeze whirs by. Seymour's cloak dances in accordance to the direction of the wind.

"Listen. Forgive our hostility earlier."

"I'm somehow used to it., one way or another."

"I had to make sure that yar' really the Merlin."

"Well, at least you found out the hard way. Now, what do you want?"

"I want ya' to join us."

"Join what?"

"The Circle of Shadows." His tone suddenly becomes grave as if his life depends on my answer.

"The circle of sparrows?"

"Shadows."

"The hell is that?

"It's a guild of elite assassins. We could really use someone of yar' talent."

I don't know what words are best to make out a reply. I clearly understand what assassins are, or to be precise — who they are. Being hunted is one thing but killing other people unless necessary isn't exactly my forte.

"Why me? I mean there are tons of other cutthroats out there who are eager enough to do some dirty work."

"No, the Circle doesn't recruit half-asses. We only choose special people. Ahm, how do I explain this," Seymour pauses and rubs his chin. "Name any race that ya' know of."

I don't really understand where this conversation is going but I still give him an answer. "Hmmm. Elvs, humans, vampires, dwar—

"Slow down now, that's enough. Well, in the Circle, there can only be one assassin of its kind."

"What the bloody hell do you mean by that?"

"To put it simply, there's only one assassin who's an elf, one assassin who's human, one vampire and so on. More importantly, an assassin must be special than most of the people in his kind. See? It's a privilege."

"And what are you?"

"Ya'll know soon enough."

"Then I'm not joining."

"Come on, don't be such a wuss! Yar' the last of the Merlins so we don't really have a choice. Ya' take the spot without contest."

"I didn't even asked for it," my reply comes out cold as I turn away.

"By chance, you could even get the order to assassinate Lazaddon."

The world froze. A chill jolts up and down my spine. What did I just heard? Assassinate Lazaddon. Yes. Assasinate Lazaddon. There's no doubt about it. I feel a new wave of fervor rush over me. All these years, I've been trying to have my revenge but Lazaddon and his army's too much to handle.

This Circle of scallops... Whatever guild of assassins is this. It might the key.

"When do we start?"

I can't help but notice the wicked smile on Seymour's lips. "First, we head north to the headquarters. You need to be baptized first."

"Baptize?"

"All your questions shall be answered by the Pillars. Right now, we must go before the─"

A shrill scream breaks the stillness of Riverwood.

"What was that?"

"Thallius. So, he's caught up to us."

When I heard the name, my body starts to tremble. Thallius is one Lazaddon's trusted men. He's been hunting me for years. Suddenly, my urge to stay overwhelms my hesitant desire to leave.

Maybe I'll start my revenge with him.

"We should really be moving now, Merlin."

"Ssssh," a finger drapes my lips. "Follow me," I whisper.

We crawl down the roof and then towards the attic, tip-toing to avoid making any noise. Then we place our ears as close to the creaking floorboard.

"Where is the boy?" A man yells. His voice sounds really authoritative. That must be Thallius.

"I don't know." The pubtender chokes back an answer. I could imagine Thallius' hands around his neck. I give Seymour a puzzled look. The army of Kingdom Claudesca isn't welcome here but covering my tracks is still like suicide.

"Sothens folks aren't friendly with Claudescians. The Empress hates King Lazaddon and the people hates who the Empress hates. I don't like where this is─"

Crack.

He couldn't finish when the loud noise of wood breaking erupts. It's followed by both of us hurtling down to the floor. When I open my eyes, I'm already in front of Thallius and his men. The floorboard has given in to our weight.

"Guess I've found your answer," he says to the trembling pubtender before shifting gaze on me. His fierce blue eyes seem to level me down. "Good to see you again, old friend."

He looks at Seymour and chuckles. "And yet another, old friend."

I return his glare. His groomed stubble and smug face seamlessly fits the golden armor he's wearing — a perfect example of a royal monster. The demon that's been chasing after my tail all the time hasn't changed at all. Except that his hair has become grayer than the last time I saw him.

My grip tightens around Shadespierce's hilt. After running for such a long time, I'm definitely not going down without a fight. Not after being alive for so long.

Thallius gestures something and the sound of metal footsteps starts thundering. Soldiers begin to enter one by one in regal fashion. Upon seeing the troops, my heart sank. More than fifty men in full, golden armor surrounds us. Fighting them is an obvious death wish. Besides being skilled warriors, they also use magic-infused weapons. Weapons embedded with the power of mana, allowing them to perform arcane that's deemed only for mages.

Looking around, I'm totally screwed. There's none. They have me surrounded. I got no other option but one ─ summon her.

Taking several steps away, I draw out Shadespierce. The dark blade seems to cry, 'call me'.

Thallius makes no attempt to stop me.

Heat boils up within my body and surges to the black dagger. An icy chill ensues, then a feeling of calm wind blowing. Finally, a rigid quaking jolts my arms. Every kind of energy converges into the dagger, causing it to glow with pure, white light.

Moments later, it explodes in a cloud of black dust.

A female figure begins to take shape from the dust that fell on the floor. Wearing fuchsia garb with the skirt all the way to the floor, the beautiful girl places one hand on her waist. Surprisingly, she's not wearing anything on her feet to match the dress.

"It's been too long since you last summoned me, Arthus," the beautiful girl says. Her snow white hair flows down to past her hip. She smiles. The way her lush red lips curve seems to be more elegant than a crescent moon. Judging by her looks, one wouldn't expect her to be an adept warrior. I return the smile. Her presence gives me a sense of security and protection. Everyone in the room has their mouths hanging open except for Seymour and Thallius.

Sorry but I really need your help right now, Serrah." I couldn't even contain myself beaming with courage.

She turns to face the soldiers. In an instant, they seem to have snapped out of a spell and unsheathe their weapons in perfect sync. Without warning, Thallius draws out his halberd and goes straight for me.

Then the carnage kicks off.

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Question: What do you guys think will Serrah do?

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