Riker sat next to Cadence in the guild hall. He ordered a mug of beer and had a chugging contest with Cadence. Cadence won. Riker had to give up so he could go throw up in the bathroom. He staggered all the way there, and all the way back. All of the assassins in the guild hall were laughing at Riker as he fumbled around with his unknown words. Pathetic. He was completely pathetic. He got up and walked over to see if any interesting jobs could take his mind off of Ptolema, and how she let another man into her room. Irik. That was his name: Irik. He hated everything about him. His hair, his clothes, his voice, his scent. Everything.

Riker stormed off to the job offer board. He would kill Irik. Ptolema would definitely kill him for killing Irik, though. Would she? She has always thought that having friends or allies was dangerous because it makes you vulnerable to your enemy. Riker decided to set off the killing of Irik and go find some work from the board. The Gold Guild master is supposed to come to the guild tomorrow, Riker does not want to be here when that happens. The guildhall is a reck from drunk buffoons throwing up, punching each other, and pissing everywhere. Riker usually does not get drunk. More girls in the guild would probably make the men straighten up, or die. Either way: it is a win-win. Ptolema is the only girl out of all the ten guilds. They will not let girls be accepted into the guilds, yet some assassin trainers still teach the girls just in case the guild masters have an (unlikely) change of heart. Ptolema brought back the all of the heads from the entire rock, steel, and wood guild to prove her worth to the Gold Guild master. Riker still remembers the trail of blood that the blood made on the floor. The bags were gigantic. It took Ptolema five trips to bring all of the heads inside of the guild. She threatened to do the same to the Gold Guild if our master did not agree to let her in. Of course, he agreed. Riker loved the smile that gleamed under her half mask that day. He has always loved that mask she wore the day she first came here; the day she showed every man in the Gold Guild to not mess with her.

When Riker got to the Gold Guild's job board he noticed Rin searching for a job too. They nodded at each other, then resumed their search for a new job.

"Did you hear about the king?" Rin took the paper with the highest marked price for a job off the board.

"What about that bastard?" Riker hastened to say.

"He fell ill a few weeks ago. I overheard a breadboy talking about it with his father." Rin pinned the paper back to the board after examining it fully.

Riker viciously ripped a sheet from the board. "Are you joking with me? If you are, it ain't funny!"

"Why would I joke with you, Riker of the Gold Guild? Dude, it's the king, I ain't gonna joke about him being dead. I hear a bunch of killers is going after him now. I say go after the Prince while he's unguarded, so we have a chance at survival in this world."

Riker sat down in the closest chair behind him and read through the banner he had just crumpled in his hands.

"The prince," Rin protested, "should actually name these freaking cities, you know? I'm tired of trying to figure out where I'm going all the time!"

"Don't you want magic back too?" Riker asked, suddenly uninterested in the job offer he picked up.

"Magic can stay out of this country for all I care. In the country to our Right- ah, Fenhagen - there are rumors that witches have taken over and are using mortals, us, as slaves. I don't want that here!"

"No one has traveled to another island in twenty years. What you just said, my friend is a lie. Witches are amazing creatures. The Uri council are trying to establish another law about how Poi should be killed immediately, instead of witches. Honestly, I think they have the same amount of power."

"Truhoj would be the one to come up with that. Kill magic here, kill magic there. I think he's right though. Poi has been around for a long time, but that has given them the knowledge about our kind, and how we live; it makes them the biggest threat to us all."

"I think I've had enough of this, bye Rin." Riker took the easiest job offer he saw and strode down to the bartender for a drink before he left. The air is dry. The sun had dried up all of the rain from a few days ago. Riker looked at the job offer he had ripped off the board and scanned it for an address. It did not pay much, but it was an easy kill from the Yuop council. Treou was the target's name. Riker has never heard of him, considering word gets out about the five councils as quick as death. Riker loathed the Pois and the witches because of their immortality. He wanted their power.

Riker looked around the busy street he stood in and calculated where his client lived: Burnherrow Road. A road where most people live. The house's numbers are the only thing that separates the houses on that road from one another.

He started to sprint past all of the moving people. A baker on his right. A thief to his left. As Riker ran more onto the crowd of people, they turned into a blur of colors. He ran until he found house number 5893. A blue house. It was small, like the others. It was wooden, like the others. The houses were the same structure, but different numbering and color. He stepped up onto the front doormat. He knocked three times and waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

Damn it. The job expiration date is tomorrow, and Riker did not want to go back to the guild. Damn it.

"Wh-who's th-there?" A low whisper came from behind the door. It creaked as it opened wider. Blackness poured into the crack.

"I'm here for the job offer. It says here that you want me to kill a man from the Yurop council, Treou?" Riker annoyed by the client's attitude leaned into the door. The client opened the door fully, but in the doorway, there was nothing. Riker walked into the small blue house. The door quietly closed behind him. Footsteps skidded on the soft green carpet flooring. Riker's eyes scanned for a person. There, a tiny man walked toward Riker. He had a cloak wrapped around him. It had the royal family's symbol woven into it. Riker scowled at the cloak's symbol.

"I-I would l-like this man to be k-killed by t-tomorrow," the client struggled to whisper.

Riker nodded his head, then left the house without another word. The door creaked shut behind Riker. He started to run into the crowded city. The Yurop council village is just two blocks down from where he was, so he ran faster. Dawn was about to approach in a few hours, if he did not kill Treou soon, it will be too late (which means he will be in the guard watch hour, only Ptolema can pull that off).

Riker slid into the nearest house's shadow to watch for people around Treou's house in the village. No one was there. Silence echoed around the house. Riker breathed in then sprinted toward the house. He leaped onto the outward window, climbed up it, and sprawled himself on the roof. Riker, again, looked around the house to make sure no one saw him. No one even glanced his way. He set his paranoia aside, and slide down the chimney. Riker thanked all of the gods that the fire was not lit. Ash stuck to Riker's outfit as he stepped out of the fireplace and into the small living room area. It had a small table with a cup of cold tea lying on it. Footsteps approached from down the hall. Riker flicked out a dagger and set his feet into position. The footsteps got louder and louder. A middle-aged man stepped into the room with a stack of cash in one hand and a piece of cake on a plate in the other.

Riker grabbed him by the collar and pressed the man's back against the wall while holding the dagger to his throat. The man gagged and screamed for Riker to stop, but Riker just starred into the man's face.

"Why are you here?" Riker asked pressing the blade farther into the man's neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The man yelled in terror. Riker flared his nostrils and pressed the dagger hard enough that it did not just slit the man's throat, it also hit the wall behind the man. The head toppled to the ground. Riker had finally gotten his revenge. When he picked up the job paper, he had not known that it meant this Treou.

Riker put the head into his headbag, picked up the stack of cash Treou had carried in, then left through the front door. He did not mind to clean the blood off the floor or clear Treou's body from the floor. Riker ran all the way to the guild without a single stop.

When he got there only two members were there. Both seemed to be drunk, so Riker scooted to the bar and asked for a beer. Riker had not seen the Prince do his speech at all today. It was dawn, and Droian had been nowhere in sight all day.

"Has Prince Droian come by yet?" Riker asked the bartender.

"No, I thought I just missed him or something." The bartender handed Riker his beer while Riker paid him two chions from the stack of cash he picked up from Treou.

"I heard that he stayed in the castle after the first town because it was too dangerous," a voice answered from behind. Riker turned in his chair to see Hayden walking towards him. Riker had not noticed Hayden when he walked in.

Hayden continued. "Apparently a bunch of assassins was caught trying to kill the king today and last night but were caught. I don't know the specifics, but it was a rumor."

Riker ran for Ptolema's door and beat on it as hard as he could. He yelled her name hoping she would answer.

Nothing. Silence.

Riker sprinted back to his room and stuffed Treou's head into the left corner of his room. He then restocked every pocket he had with knives, daggers, axes, and swords. Riker even put a bow around his back and stuffed arrows into a quiver. He could feel the sweat bead up all over his body. Even if Ptolema was not there, he could not risk it because if she was...

Because if she was...

They would beat her, punish her, even kill her. The royal guard had been after her for years. Before Riker knew Ptolema, the guard has been after her. Riker sprinted past the guild hall with his black hood concealing his face and his hands clenched into tight fists.

He would not lose a friend over for a stupid mistake.