The fireplace in Drake Manor continued to burn as Malevolent drifted back to reality.

My own son. Malevolent thought angrily. My own flesh and blood is dragging the family name through the mud. No, I won't allow it. I must take matters into my own hands.

The Drake manor servants stood silently in the corner, trying not to be noticed by Malevolent. It was standard procedure whenever he was in one of his foul moods.

"What are you worthless maggots just standing there for? Clean this mess up!"

The servants scurried and tumbled over themselves picking up the pieces of glass. Some frantically wiping off the smears of blood on the floor while others used rags to soak up the split wine. Malevolent Drake strode out of the room, leaving his servants to do their duties. He put on his outer cloak which was made of the finest wool. He pulled the hood over his head and opened the front door of his manor, letting in a gust of cold night breeze.

Malevolent could see his breath vapor as he exhaled in the cold night air under the flaming torches outside the manor. Snow swirled around him and he covered his face and made his way down the cobblestone path and onto the main street.

Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead running errands on my own, but this requires a personal touch. No one can know.

It was a cold night and the wind blew with sharpness and precision that brought chills to his bones. Malevolent shivered under the pale moonlight. He muttered an incantation and a flame of fire appeared in front of him. Better, he thought. He walked down the familiar main street of White Harrow city center. Making a turn into the commercial district, he shuffled along.

The battle-wizards on guard tonight patrolled the street corners and alleyways, keeping the peace in White Harrow. Rain or shine, sleet or snow – they remained vigilant and loyal to their duty. Crime was almost unheard of under his rule, and he was particular proud of it.

Good to see my men keeping the vermin in order. They called me harsh. Well, someone has to do what needs to be done. I'd rather be feared than loved.

'Drake Street' read the sign. What a wonderful name. He strode into the street that was lined with luxury goods stores – from jewelers to goldsmiths, from fine dining restaurants to designer labels. He strolled down the street, admiring the glamorous signs. All of the stores were closed save for one or two fine dining restaurants. There were no patrons but the workers were cleaning up. They were too busy to notice him as he walked past them.

He snapped his fingers and the ball of flame which gave him light and warmth dissipated into thin air. The rest of my journey has to be inconspicuous. No one can know that I was here. He walked a few more feet and stopped in between 'Harold's Fine Wands' and 'Antiquities from the East'. As most of the businesses on this street were closed for the night, only minimal street lamps were lit for the night patrols. He looked at his pocket watch, only a minute until midnight. He shuffled on the spot to keep warm.

The chime of the White Harrow clock tower rang out throughout the cold night air. Excellent, it's time. He squinted at the brick wall of the stores and counted seven bricks to the left and eight bricks upward from the ground before pushing on that particular brick. It slid in and clicked. If he had done this at any other time, nothing would have happened.

"Onyx" he whispered. The bricks folded into the wall, revealing an opening in the wall. He walked into it and the bricks closed themselves over him. He was left alone, enveloped by darkness. He shivered in the cold. He muttered an incantation, trying to summon the ball of flame to light his way. Nothing happened. He tried again. No luck.

Is it my imagination, or is it colder inside here than outside? He shivered bitterly.

"What brings you here, Malevolent Drake?"

The voice echoed off the stone walls; cold and harsh. It sliced through the night air like a knife. The voice sounded refined – much like an English gentleman of today. It was also cold and emotionless. This voice was a voice Malevolent Drake knew well, and the only voice he truly feared. It belonged to the Speaker.

The Speaker was the only member of the Onyx Order who could speak. The rest of the Order had taken a vow of silence. They focused their entire consciousness, their entire being into harnessing their killing instinct. Malevolent Drake was standing in the entrance of the Onyx Order – an order of assassins. Not many people knew the way to the entrance of the Order, and Malevolent was one of them.

"I have a contract for your Order," Malevolent replied.

"We have not spoken since the last mark. When was the last mark?

"Is this a test?"

"Answer the question."

Malevolent hesitated before answering, "About four years ago, I asked your Order to help me take care of a particularly festering problem. The problem had a name - Hugh Adder."

"Yes," the Speaker agreed. "Hugh Adder; he was your greatest opponent vying to be the ruler of White Harrow. With him gone, you rose to power." The Speaker put his hands together; fingertips touching. "You did not face him like a man; you chose to rely on the shadows," he continued mockingly.

Malevolent felt insulted by the remark – is he calling me a coward? However, he wisely chose to remain silent. He stood in the dark, carefully pondering on his next words.

"Do not speak as though you had nothing to gain from the contract. I have paid you in full, half of the treasure in the White Harrow coffers. Also, I let your Order operate freely in the shadows without any interference from the battle-wizards."

There was no reply. Suddenly, a torch flickered on, and a hooded black figure stood before him.

"Battle-wizards?" the Speaker scoffed. "Even without your influence they would be useless against our order. We move in the shadows, unseen. Our ancient art has been refined over thousands of years. No one could find our order even if they tried – except by invitation."

Yes, invitations for the wealthy to fund your Order in return for favors. You needed my wealth.

Both of them stood in the silence, and the sound of dripping water echoed in the dim light. Suddenly, the Speaker shouted.

"Remove your hood!"

The Speaker raised his covered hands in the air dramatically and flames shot out of the ground, painting red light on both of them. Malevolent jumped back in alarm as frightful classical music started playing, sounding curiously similar to 'O Fortuna'.

Author's Note: If you can, google 'O Fortuna' on youtube and listen to it while reading the last part of this book. Fun fact - I was listening to it as I was writing this chapter.

"You who dare enter the sacred halls of the Onyx Order – remove your hood or die!" Another burst of flames erupted in the air as the music started to build up to a crescendo.

Malevolent hesitated. He slowly pulled the sides of his hood away, revealing his tense face. He had long white hair, and over the years, the scheming and hate had brought wrinkles to his hard face.

"Why do you seek the Onyx Order?" The black figure's voice boomed, echoing off the cold stone walls.

Malevolent looked nervously behind him, where the brick wall and folded and closed him into this hidden room. How can this room remain hidden with all this loud noise?

"A spell protects this room. No sound will escape these walls. You could scream for dear life. No one will know you were here tonight." The black figure removed his hood, revealing his head which was covered by a full face mask made of onyx. The mask covered his entire face, and only his cold eyes could be seen. "Now, why do you seek the Onyx Order?"

"I need someone taken care of discreetly."

"Why?"

"He left White Harrow against my wishes. I had planned to send the battle-wizards after him but my son insisted on going instead." A scowl formed on his face as he talked. "This 'someone' put my son and his accomplices to the infirmary."

"Ah, a personal vendetta this time instead of a power struggle. You are an interesting little man. Give us the name of the life that you seek to end."

"Amadeus, the commoner."

"You would send the Onyx Order after a commoner? Do you mock us?" The figure took a step towards Malevolent his eyes filed with fury. Another pyre of flames erupted into the air as the music grew more violent. Malevolent responsively took a step back with his hands raised in submission. However, he maintained a calm facade; he refused to show a glimmer of fear. Fear is for the weak, he thought.

"You don't understand, this is no ordinary commoner. He defeated four nobles. I need the Order's skill, coupled with its discretion."

"This is going to cost you. Wouldn't it be easier to send in the battle-wizards of White Harrow? Sounds like a clear cut case of a runaway commoner."

"If I were to send the battle-wizards now, they would know someone from the Drake family had failed. I need this person killed, and his corpse brought to me – discreetly."

The figure stopped and seemed to calm down. He was thoughtful for a moment, before turning his back towards Malevolent. "The mark is worth at least a thousand gold coins. Do you accept?"

Malevolent was rich, even among the Nobles. Despite the vast wealth in his family treasury, this was a large amount to ask for. He hated to part with it. "Five hundred gold coins," he countered.

"Does this look like a marketplace to you?" the Speaker retorted. "A thousand gold coins or nothing at all."

Malevolent pondered about it for but a moment. Wealth without power is worthless, he reminded himself.

"Fine, I accept. You will be paid when I receive his corpse as proof."

"It goes without saying that you should not try to cross us. We have eyes and ears in the shadows."

Malevolent nodded as the music continued in the background.

"May I ask a question?"

"Ask." The Speaker did not look amused.

"What is with the flaming eruptions and terrifying music?"

"I enjoy theatrics."

"Oh, is that so?" Malevolent asked rhetorically. He could not tell if the Speaker was joking or being serious.

"Don't judge me, a lifetime of silence and you would be craving for some drama as well. We accept your contract. You will be escorted out."

I hate this part, thought Malevolent right before a shadow descended from the ceiling. A hand gripped his back and shoved him into the wall. His entire being melded into the wall and it swallowed him up. His insides felt as though they were pulled inside out, and his consciousness dove right into a vortex of darkness.

He stumbled out the other end of the wall and fell onto the ground. Expecting a cobblestone paved street, instead the ground felt strangely soft and familiar. Soft - much like the carpets of Drake Manor. He looked up, only to find himself back in Drake Manor hall - the fireplace still crackling in the corner. What sort of power is this? I have never heard of a spell that transports people against their will.

Back in the Onyx Order foyer, the shadow that had descended from the ceiling and pushed Malevolent into the wall could feel that the transportation was complete. The figure – an Onyx Order assassin turned to look at the Speaker.

"I know what you're thinking – it's insulting to your abilities if I send you to bring death upon a commoner."

The assassin did not speak and only nodded.

"Come, walk with me," the Speaker opened the wooden door into the Onyx Order's main hall. The door creaked open to reveal red carpets and a stone stairway with torches on the walls. He gestured the lone assassin to follow him.

"Your brothers and sisters of the Onyx Order have all, like you taken a sworn vow of silence. This is the legendary discretion of our order whereby even if an assassination is thwarted and one is captured, it will not lead back to the client."

The assassin looked questioningly at the Speaker, as if to say – I already know this, what is the point of making this statement?

"There is another reason the Order takes a vow of silence," the Speaker replied.

The assassin seemed to be surprised.

"To be a good assassin, one has to be free of worldly attachments. No emotions, no relations and above all – no pride. The silence helps us focus on the task at hand; removing everything else that clouds our judgment." The Speaker continued walking and the lone assassin followed him in silence.

"All the portraits in this hallway were painted of all the members of our order, before they put on the Onyx mask and fade into anonymity. They are kept locked up in the vault until the member retires from the field and is released from their vow of silence. Then, they are hung here, in the main hall as a testament to their loyalty and contributions to the order."

The Speaker stopped and pointed to one of the portraits in the hallway. "Take a look at this handsome chap. That was me - a young and naïve Noble, keen to make his mark in the world."

The assassin looked suspiciously at the Speaker.

"You have many high profile marks under your belt, but if you allow pride to creep in, it will be your downfall. Look at the portrait again; now, look at me." The Speaker removed his mask, revealing a single scar which streaked vertically across his face. The assassin recoiled for a moment before regaining composure.

"This scar was the cost of pride. It almost cost me my life. I was about to take on a low profile mark. Standard procedure, it should have been child's play. In and out in – claim the contract."

The Speaker ran his fingers across the scar, reminiscing as he continued his story.

"In my pride I showed my hand too soon. Instead of scouting in the shadows, I grew impatient. II jumped out of the shadows and my blade went for his jugular vein. I was surprised when the mark had guards hidden from sight. They struck me with paralyzing spells and removed my mask - the ultimate dishonor. I was fortunate; my mentor did not think I was ready and had followed me closely. He left those who tortured me dead within seconds – but not before he allowed me to first be cut across the face. I didn't understand then, but now I know that it was to remind me to never let pride ever creep in."

The Speaker pointed at the lone assassin. "Pride is death. Don't ever underestimate the mark – even if the mark is just a commoner. Did you not hear the client? The mark already took down four normal Nobles and escaped."

The lone assassin displayed a glimpse of shame and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good. Now if you ever want to retire from Onyx Order at a ripe old age as I have; remember why we keep the vow of silence." He casually put his Onyx mask back on, and took out a parchment from his black robe. The scribbled the word 'Amadeus' on the parchment and handed it to the assassin. "You know what needs to be done. Velox Tacitoque."

Swift and silent - our creed. The lone assassin gave a silent salute by placing one hand on the heart and retrieved the parchment from the Speaker.

"Now, leave me to enjoy my music," said the Speaker, twirling his index fingers like an imaginary conductor's baton, waving in tandem with the music. Before he could finish his sentence, the assassin had already vanished in a puff of black smoke.

Author's Note: If you liked what you've read, do remember to vote and share with your friends. If you have any comments or suggestions for the story, you could affect the way the story is told, just leave a comment. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :)