Children of War

For I have sworn thee fair
and thought thee bright
Who art as black as hell
As dark as night.

--William Shakespeare

The first man I ever killed was Anthony Collins. He used to own and operate a small grocery in Low Town, the section of Royles where the third-class citizens live. He was a greedy and ambitious man, always looking to further his status in Society, mainly by doing small favors for those higher than he in the social and authoritive ladder. His misplaced ambition ultimately led to his death.

Even as an adolescent, I possessed a rebellious attitude and, much to my mother's dismay, preferred to travel alone. I often visited Low Town rather than attending dance and music lessons. My visits to Low Town resulted in many new aquaintenances, including a boy named Alex. He was a street rat, family-less, who grew up in a constant battle for survival. Despite his seemingly-grim circumstances, he was laid-back and carefree.

It was he who first introduced me to the Underground. I'd always known of them, of course, and I even considered myself to be a member, if only in spirit. But Alex brought me into the inner circles of Rogues, introduced me to my first contacts. He taught me how to blend in the streets, how to pick an unwary pocket or door-lock. Of course, the other Rogues were slow to trust me at first. A Noble-born daughter of the Inner Circle mingling with the lowly rebels? Unbelievable. I understood their suspicions and held them in no contempt. But the more I was around Alex, the more they saw the spark of life in me, the passion that is true to their nature and undeniably absent in the life of an ordinary Noble. Alex brought me to life.

He was my friend until the day Anthony Collins turned him over to the Seekers.

Trained to find and dispatch Rogues, they had no trouble locating Alex in his makeshift home at an abandoned warehouse, where many other unfortunates of Society lived as well. They left his body as a warning for others, head severed. Contrary to the "kind and just" facade they painted for the rest of Society, they showed not an ounce of mercy, even for a 13 year-old boy.

It didn't take long for the Underground network to find the origin of Alex's death: Anthony Collins. With that knowledge, I knew what I would do. Despite being born into a complacent and peaceful family, I was full of hate and violence towards the one who took my friend, my brother. He deserved to die.

That night, I paid a visit to the grocer, using the same stealth and techniques taught to me by the same person he'd condemned to death. I'd worn a mask, though it was only a precaution; after the last of Collins' life had drained from the deep gash in his throat, I'd injected blackout into his pale irises, turning them a solid jet black. The black liquid would prevent the Guard from scanning his eyes for their last images and memories.

I was thorough; Alex taught me that. I was careful to clear any trace of my presence in Collins' home, except for one short message printed neatly on his wall in thick black letters: Your blood for ours.

That same night, I officially became a Rogue. I was given the pendant of the Underground, a twisted serpent winding around an ornately gilded dagger. It was lowered chain by chain into my palm until it lay coiled in my hand. It was silver, a sharp contrast to the gaudy, beloved gold that the City Royles was particularly fond of. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The Rogue Leader of Low Town inducted me into the Underground with two words: "Welcome, Sister..."

"Alex," I said, taking the name of my fallen comrade and mentor. "My name is Alex."

* * * * *

The Thorndale was in the heart of Low Town, deeper than most Seekers cared to stray. Though I kept my hood up, I also added a small mask that I'd brought for the meeting. I couldn't afford for anyone to know my identity, besides Fox. All they knew was that I was Noble and attended the Academy. That was a vague enough description that I felt safe.

The mask, if found by anyone other than myself or a fellow Rogue, was a clear indication that I was a rebel. Everyone who needed to remain anymous wore one, and each was custom made. Mine was made of hammered silver, lying across my cheeks and nose in jointed segments so that it fit to my face flawlessly. Though it overlapped my nose, it was open on the bottom so that I could breathe and speak without it echoing . There was a thin strip of material behind the eyeholes that allowed me to see but outwardly left them black and empty. Its only decoration were a few stylized swirls along the edges and on the forehead.

I entered a small, dark tavern that was situated at the end of a narrow alley. There was a short flight of cracked steps that led down to the entryway where a a man stood guard.

"Hello, Felix," I said. "I heard there was a meeting today."

Felix was tall and muscular enough to discourage anyone who didn't belong from getting in. His head was shaved until it shone in the light and his eyebrows were thick enough to balance his dark goatee. There was a crescent-shaped scar above his left ear where one overzealous Seeker had once struck him with a club. That Seeker was now dead, too.

He shrugged. "As far as I know, it's just good drinking inside. I know nothin' of any meetings."

I smiled. "I must have been mistaken. Well, care to let a lady inside for an afternoon drink?" I let the serpent pendant slip out of my dress to hang in plain sight. He nodded and swung open the door, letting me aside.

Inside, the Thorndale was like any other tavern--dark, crowded, and loud. The barmaster, Menos, nodded to me as I approached the counter that stretched the entire length of the bar.

"I think they're waiting for you downstairs," he said, refilling a glass for the man beside me. I slid a coin to him and he winked at me. Mother was always exasperated over my spending habits; she believed I spent it on expensive dining and sessions at the personal parlors. She'd feel a bit more strongly if she knew I was one of the main patrons of the Rogue community.

I walked down the narrow stairway, my cloak whispering against the splintered wood. I walked past the rows of barrels in the cellar until I came to another closed door. I let myself in. Fox and two others sat at a small round table in the middle of the room, absorbed in some game involving dice and small carved figures. He grinned when he saw me.

Fox was named so adequately after his shockingly red, unruly hair that was prone to stick out in tufts. He was as tanned as his fair skin allowed and his brown eyes always sparkled mischievously. He had the appearance of an overgrown child and was the deadliest man I knew with a blade.

"Everyone's here," he told me as he and his companion rose from their game.

"Mustn't keep them waiting," I said.

He nodded and the three of us moved in front of the fireplace at the back of the room. The mantle was slightly below shoulder-length for me; not a very convenient height for the entrance to one of the most important Rogue hideouts, but certainly less obvious than an enormous, six foot fireplace.

Fox bent low inside the fireplace, careful not to kneel in the ashes--it was a fully functioning fireplace and used as such in order to draw suspicion away from it. Needless to say, it was never lit on days we had a meeting. He pressed a series of loose stones at the top and, with a deep rumble, the back of the fireplace slid away into darkness. We all stooped low and walked through the tiny portal, standing straight as the stone section replaced itself seamlessly. Down a flight of stairs and to the right, and several dozen Rogues came into view, lounging in chairs or leaning against the rough stone walls.

Some wore masks like mine, members whose identities were their greatest weapons. Talyn, the coordinator of today's meeting, wore one as well. His covered the entire left side of his face and extended over his right eye. Neatly groomed dark brown hair fell across his forehead. He stood from his chair when we came into view.

"Alright, let's begin," he said. I leaned against the back wall, stairway to my left. "Yesterday's raid in the 12th Quadrant was an estimated 12% effective; two men were captured, one killed. The rest are now safe and managed to self-destruct the site before anything else could be recovered by the Seekers."

Pleased murmurs rumbled throughout the room. "Must've been a lazy day for them," the one next to me said to his companion.

Talyn continued. "We've found eighteen new recruits this week, including a few from our neighboring city Lorne--up from last week's ten."

A man to the left of the room spoke up. "How is that helpful?" he asked angrily. "The Duke of Lorne has increased Seeker activity--he's killed more than twenty in the past week and I've heard news he plans to attack again within days. All of his raids are deadly accurate and I can only imagine the damage he will do when he comes here. I'm beginning to think this a fool's crusade."

Talyn silenced the resulting chatter. "Be at peace, Norman. We've already a solution." He motioned towards me and I stepped forward. The room's attention shifted to me.

"It's true," I informed him. "By the month's end, the Duke of Lorne will be dead, I assure you." I didn't want to be too specific; one never knew where an informant might be.

He laughed, harsh and bitter. Apparently, Norman didn't share my confidence.

"A girl? You've entrusted the demise of a rising Duke to a girl? Now I know what foolishness has overtaken this organization." He shook his head violently. "How can I trust someone who is a Noble and will not even show us her true face?"

"Norman, you've been with us long enough to know why we wear masks. Those who cannot reveal themselves risk the greatest amount to lose if they are ever found out," Talyn interjected. "She has been a member since she was young; she is loyal to us and is to be trusted."

"If I didn't have to, I would not hide my face," I said. "I'd rather enjoy taking credit for my deeds. As it is, I stand to deal more damage to the Bishops and Inner Circles if I continue to have their trust as well as my fellow Rogues." I stared at him, unfaltering. "Do I have your trust, Master Norman?"

He fell silent for several moments, unhappiness etched into his face. Finally, he nodded, though reluctantly. I accepted it without resentment; I knew how difficult it could be on a man to bear the burdens we did. Talyn nodded to me as well before continuing with the meeting. I only half-listened as members of different Quadrants voiced their concerns and present supplies, training for new recruits, new tactics for avoiding Seekers--the usual. I'd come for what Talyn would supply me with after the meeting.

Half an hour later, as the Rogues slowly began to trickle out of the room in twos and threes, I approached him where he stood chatting with a few others. He excused himself and we moved to a corner for a bit of privacy.

"You have a present for me?" I stated more than asked.

He smiled and removed a thin, cylindrical metal container from inside his cloak, slipping it into my hand. "Arsine," he said. "Three hundred and fifty ppm; more than deadly as long as you don't disperse over too wide of an area. The smaller the containment area, the more effective it will be. I don't have to tell you to be careful with it and wear a mask."

"You always know how to show a girl a good time." I smiled, slipping it inside my cloak. "It will be done."

"You already have a plan to reach the Duke?"

I nodded.

Talyn glanced at the other Rogues milling about the room before saying in a low voice, "We have a new prototype for chemical aesthetic rearrangement. Tested on twelve others, 100% success rate so far."

My interest was piqued. "Injection?"

"No, ingestion; makes it easier to carry a pill than a syringe. The effects are immediate and the entire process is done within minutes. The only downside is that it doesn't last as long as the injection, two hours at most. I have one for female, so it's effect on you won't be as harsh."

I nodded. "I'll try it."

He handed me a ring, egg-shaped and gold with an eagle, the emblem of Royles. I ran a finger along the side of it, finding the catch at the eagle's left talon. There was a near-inaudible click and the top half swung open on a hinge. Inside lay a blue pill the size of the nail of my pinky finger. The tiny shape of an eye was engraved on one side.

"Convenient," I said, snapping the hidden compartment of the ring closed.

"They're an ancient design," he said. "They used to be called 'poison rings', worn in medieval times. We thought we'd bring the fashion back." He winked.

A smile curled across my lips. "I'll be sure to put it to use."

I thanked him and discreetly left the tavern through a back alley that brought me closer to the District. Talyn had thoughtfully made the meeting brief so that my presence would not be missed. I made a few quick purchases at my favorite high-end stores to make my story of shopping in the District believable before meeting my transport handler, Tom.

I had a fitting in half an hour and, tonight, I would kill the Duke of Lorne. My day wasn't half as busy as I would have liked.