SANGUINE Prologue + Chapter 1 - 1

SANGUINE

A light novel by Chen Yuan Wen

Prologue:

BY WHICH MEASURE do we seek to judge the morally justified and the morally corrupt? Who becomes the saviour of the story and who becomes the villainous wretch? It is a question that is easily answered, even if the answer might seem distasteful: for it is the victor, in any situation, who will marked as a hero. They will always be justified, regardless of their actions, and any misbehaviour will simply be explained away as a part of their natural function. In the end, it matters not how many lives were sacrificed; nor does it matter how many women or children were slain. This is simply passed off as the price of victory, a collateral damage to which no one is held accountable. The defeated will be forgotten, whilst the victor basks in the glory and support of both the heavens and the earth.  It is an illusion, a bias that we implant in ourselves; it is a heuristic idea that helps us recognise the alpha figure of our society. But sadly, such a primitive form of thought will only lead to self-destruction. In the end, if we forget what we are truly supposed to fear simply because it has been defeated. Then, I am afraid that we are merely deceiving ourselves with a fantasy of warmth, safety and comfort…


-Sidric Varlentstein, Lord of Canterbell


Chapter One: Revelations

THE ANCIENT CASTLE Canterbell, stood like a relic of older times. Its walls were laden with moss and worn from the harsh autumn rains. It's always cold in Canterbell, is how the saying goes. Yet those words come from a time when the castle used to be full of life and joyous activity. Where parties were held and lords and ladies danced till the wee hours of night. Those were memories of happier times, times that disappeared when the Templars came into power. Their religious ways and draconian laws swept through the human cities like wildfire, and slowly the laughter began to die. Happiness turned to furtive whispers and eventually resulted in wasted tears; and where the halls were once filled with activity, now they stood empty and hollow. Cold and embittered, devoid of all life except for the forgotten echoes of warmer times.
    It was here, to this ancient and forgotten place, that the Templar Assassin, Kaylith L'Sade, had been despatched. Recently, reports had reached her church-monastery that a monster had taken up residence in the ancient castle Canterbell and with the surrounding towns feeling very nervous about the situation; the church had decided to send their best Assassin to deal with the creature before any further problems arose. Kaylith was used to being sent on such tasks, and often she was chosen because the missions were classified as suicidal. This particular creature had apparently racked up a total of thirty-six murdered Assassins and if Kaylith failed here, that number would increase by one.
    Fear not the monster, for it is merely a beast. It is unthinking and unintelligent, driven by instinct and without heed or concern for the higher powers that be. This was a simple lesson and it had been repeated to Kaylith many times during her training. Often, whenever she was out on a mission, Kaylith found herself recalling and mentally reciting the sayings of her temple's High Priest. It was a useful routine, because it allowed her to focus her mind on the task ahead. Recite the word of God and find him ever at your side; that was another important teaching that floated to the forefront of Kaylith's mind. I am the blade; I am the weapon of the church. I am not my own, but rather, I am the stone which the Lord will cast, in order to smite his enemies. That single mantra was all that she repeated to herself, quietly, as she approached the outer wall of castle Canterbell. She was an Assassin, chosen by her Lord and master. Her purpose was to deal swift justice upon those who mocked his name. Her swords, her knives, all of it had been consecrated at sacred altars and thrice blessed by the Grand Archbishop of Barimol City. Clad in her dark green cloak and dulled leather armor, Kaylith became a physical representation of the angel of death. Her weapons, once considered external tools, had now become extensions of her own body. Her mind was ruled solely by the task she had been given and to return in failure, was to return in shame. A blunt weapon is simply an accessory without purpose…
    Taking several loping steps toward the castle's curtain wall, she kicked up its body as she sought handholds in the moss-laden surface. She found them in the form of large perforations and dents, most of which appeared to have been caused by the natural wearing of the stone. The slippery green moss however, made her climb far more difficult as her gloved hands slipped easily along the surface. Kaylith ignored the frustrating lack of friction however, and used sheer muscular strength to simply power her way up the wall, climbing up to the very top with utmost haste. Once there, she stood up and balanced upon one of the stones, before leaping quickly, stone to stone, until she reached the surface of the nearest flanking tower. It was a tall structure, slightly larger than those designed by modern architects, but it also had a smaller turret. That meant that fewer archers could man each tower, but in olden times armies were not quite as large as they were now, so space was not that much of an issue. Licking her lips, she tightened the muscles in her legs and trusted in her skills as she jumped toward the tower wall, kicking viciously up its surface and just barely finding a pair of handholds to steady herself. It was a lot more difficult to climb than the curtain wall, but eventually Kaylith made her way to the top. Immediately, she crouched down low and used her new high-point to scan the area inside the castle grounds. She kept close to the floor of the turret, hoping that her silhouette would not be detected.
    As far as she could see, the castle was unguarded. She had not spotted a single guard on any one of the turrets during her approach, and now she could find none within the castle grounds. Either the monster was vastly overconfident, or it was simply an extremely powerful being that relied only on its own skill for protection. The very fact that it had already killed thirty-six of her predecessors meant that Kaylith would probably be facing one of the more hazardous creatures. This left her with just a few ideas of what it might be, and Kaylith didn't like any of them. Let's just hope it isn't a Lich! She thought to herself as she quickly made her way down from the tower. Getting down was a lot quicker than climbing up though, and Kaylith made good use of the moss to cover up the sound of her catching claws as she slid down the tower wall. Normally the claws were used during fast escapes to cling to the stone surface, but they made an ungodly racket as they scratched against the stone. The thickness of the moss however, made it possible for Kaylith to utilise them without the slightest scratch or spark and upon reaching the ground level she automatically crouched and began to advance slowly and quietly. I need a window, she noted mentally, as her eyes scanned the inner keep.  Eventually, she found one of them, just opposite to the stables and she quickly pressed herself against the wall, on the darker side, before tilting her head to peer into the building.
    The inside of the castle appeared tidy and well-kept, which was surprising considering how horrid it looked from the outside. Kaylith found that her window of choice looked in on the dining area of the castle and this was made obvious by the long table in the centre of the room, which appeared to have been set for dinner. However, there was only a single occupant present at the table. It was a young man, dressed in a white shirt and with short black hair, sitting alone and eating what appeared to be his supper.
     Come inside or you'll be cold, a voice resonated within her mind. Without warning, the wall violently collapsed, throwing Kaylith into the dining area. She was so shocked by the sudden fall that she actually stumbled and was unable to recover herself quickly. The young man seemed unfazed by her presence however and barely looked up from his meal.
    'Greetings Assassin,' he said, greeting her politely; though his gaze was focused on the stew which he was intent on scooping up with a chunk of bread. 'Would you like to join me for dinner?'

-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th April 2012