Chapter Text
The sun hangs low on the horizon above Ceol, painting the sides of its towering buildings a deep tawny; though the afternoon is drawing to a close, the streets are still busy, crowded to their limits with swarms of people. Merchants, their booths lining the cobblestone sidewalks, call out in hopes of attracting customers, and people dart in and out of shops, parting from and rejoining the immense crowd. The capital is always busy like this, always full of commotion and noise and vibrant life, presented proudly in the colorful banners hanging high above the roads and the impressive murals decorating the face of nearly every building.
As the sun crawls lower and lower, the sky begins to become darker, the light of day slowly seeping out of the fabric of the heavens and giving way to the deep abyss of night. The stone brick skyscrapers of the capital city of the kingdom, built laboriously many hundreds of years ago, cast long shadows across the streets.
Amidst this chaos is the perfect setting for one who does not want to be noticed, or perhaps one that does not want to be found. At the very heart of Ceol, it’s rather easy to pass through completely unnoticed by even the trained eyes of the many lawmen that patrol the streets.
A hooded man stands in the shadow of an awning, tucked into the corner between a florist’s shop and a bookstore; he watches as civilians pass by him, mothers with children swinging off their arms, carriages laiden with passengers and goods, without ever even noticing that he’s there. Like water, movements swift and smooth as silk, he darts out from his hiding place and seamlessly joins the crowd as it travels down the street, slipping into the flow of it as if he had been there all along.
His face is shadowed by his hood, hiding his identity from anyone who might be curious. For quite some time he navigates the main streets, stepping nimbly, being sure to keep his head down, inconspicuous. The shadows of the setting sun work to his advantage, providing cover as he expertly conceals himself within them.
And then, as quick as he emerged, he disappears again, darting down a narrow alleyway and leaping up onto a crumbling stone wall, catlike, disturbingly precise in his movements. The sides of the buildings here are different than the ones on the brighter, more traveled streets, the windows boarded up or jagged and shattered, the dazzling artwork exchanged for cruder graffiti.
Steps making nearly no noise as he travels deeper into the darker, more isolated parts of the city, the air begins to become stiller, heavier. The alleyways are tall and narrow, bricks slashed over with red paint bearing messages- Death to the King, or Down With the Empire, the sort of horrifying propaganda that would make most citizens of the kingdom shiver- but he doesn’t seem to mind them at all. No, on the contrary, the suggestion of a satisfied grin appears on his face as he regards the walls dripping in hatred, in malice, as he breathes in air that stinks of brewing revolution.
Suddenly, he makes a leap for the side of a particularly decrepit building, clawing his way up the wall with practiced ease until he reaches the rooftop, where he finally stops, showing no sign that the climb took him any effort at all.
From up here, it’s easy to see the castle, spires and towers built gracefully into a hillside, where it gently slopes backwards into the earth; in the evening light it looks especially magnificent, starkly contrasted light and shadow making it appear sharper, more bold, against the cloudless sky. Far above it, so high that it appears as nothing more than a speck, is a shape, wheeling in great circles; he watches as it descends, diving steeply and rapidly, growing larger until its enormous leathery wings and glinting scales are recognizable- a dragon, a beast, so massive and powerful that it could demolish an entire battalion with a single blow if it wished to.
It alights on the tallest tower, folding its great wings, and lets out a mighty roar as it sweeps its gaze across the vast kingdom of Ethermore; even from what must be a mile away, he feels its gaze pass through him, sharp and ferocious, and he resists the urge to flinch away.
He cannot wait to drive his sword through its heart.
“Han.” A voice pierces the air, and he calmly turns towards it. Another cloaked man approaches him, removing his hood as he approaches and revealing a head of shockingly white, wild curls. He nods curtly in greeting, looking around once before removing his own hood.
“Bang.” The other man’s face splits into a smile, tainted by the maliciousness weakly concealed behind it, the knowledge of the plan they’re about to put into motion. A scar runs the length of the left side of his face, directly over his eye, stretching from his temple to the corner of his mouth.
“I’m glad to see you made it here alive,” Bang says, “you know how things have been lately.” Han’s sure he’s glad to see him alive, but not because he cares for him- no, if it were any other situation than this, he’d have him slaughtered on the floor by now. He needs him to carry out his filthy plans, ones he’s too cowardly to perform himself- but for a cause he’s convinced Han is for the better, in his best interests. And he’s paying a steep sum, so really, why should he say no?
Still, Han is conscious of the daggers tucked in a holster inside his boot, on the inside of his wrist, at his belt, of the crossbow and bolts strapped on his back and concealed by his cloak; should Bang or any of his men make a move to harm him, he is well prepared.
“You know I’m as careful as they come,” he responds. Anybody with his ideals and motives, anybody in his line of work, needs to be careful- he wouldn’t be alive right now if he wasn’t. Things have been getting more dangerous lately, as Bang and his band of revolutionaries stir up more and more trouble in Ceol and the surrounding cities- they’ve been becoming impatient. Bang chuckles, something dark glinting in his eyes.
“Of course.” He turns, watching the sunset for a moment, pensive gaze resting on the palace, on the dragon still perched atop its highest spire. “Did you know it’s the last of its kind?”
“What?”
“The beast,” he says, “it’s a shame, really. Such magnificent creatures,” he says, lip curling, “driven to near extinction just because the royals are too selfish to let anybody else even touch them. Such a waste,” he tuts, “of so much power. ”
“Why then,” Han asks, “do you want me to kill it?”
“Well, we both know of the special little. . . bond it shares with our precious king, don’t we? You kill one,” he smiles wickedly, drawing a finger across his throat, “and you automatically kill the other. And after that, it’ll be chaos, ” Bang laughs, “chaos enough for my men and I to take control, and restore power to who it really belongs to.”
“And what of the heir? He’s in line to become king in a week’s time,” Han points out.
“Well, Hannie,” Bang says, “I suppose you'll just have to kill him too.”
“Will I be paid sufficiently for that as well?” Han shifts his weight from one foot to the other, fiddling with his sleeve.
“Is the money all you care about?” Bang feigns hurt, “Don’t you crave vengeance? Aren’t you glad that you’re finally able to bring down the very king who killed your parents?” Han sets his jaw, gaze hardening as he’s reminded of the other, deeper reason why he agreed to this job. Visions flash behind his eyes, still stained there after all these years, of shattered glass and blood spattered on the floor, of heavy, motionless bodies and a tattered, red-stained cloth bearing the royal crest placed in the middle of it all- of his own desperate screams and cries, orphaned at a mere five years old by the army that was supposed to be protecting him- and he straightens up, sets his shoulders, because he never forgave the king.
And he never will.
“When do you want it done?”
“Precisely a week from now,” Bang says, lazily resting his elbows on the ledge of the roof as he gazes hungrily at the castle that will soon be his, “when the sun is highest in the sky, and our beloved heir to the Kang dynasty is just about to take his place as king- you’ll strike down the king’s beast, and in the chaos kill the son as well. Once my men have secured the castle for me, I’ll send you handsome pay to wherever you might be hiding, and you can live a satisfied life knowing your family has been sufficiently avenged- and know that the kingdom will be in much better hands than it was before.”
Without hesitation, Han take’s Bang’s hand and shakes it firmly, binding himself to what might be the most dangerous job of his life. When the dragon atop the palace gives its last roar of the night, he swears it sounds almost mournful, keening, as if it understands its days are now numbered.
Lifting his hood once more, Han leaps over the edge of the rooftop, nimbly landing on the ground far below, and, swift and agile, melts into the shadows of the back alleys of Ceol. He has much to plan and prepare, if he ever hopes to be successful; but Bang set something afire in him at the mention of his parent’s brutal murders, something he doubts will be easily doused.
He looks up at the stars flickering gradually into existence high in the sky, at the last, dying rays of sunlight- the moon is full tonight, glowing bright as it takes the place of the sun.
He knows it now, for sure-
In one week’s time, the king will be dead.