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That summer, the campaign season had begun. Armies marched to war, armour clanking and pennants streaming. This particular war was taking place between the southern countries of Olvar and Abbas. Olvar was warring with Abbas as the Archduke Edmun Firebeard of Abbas had begun to levy heavy taxes on merchants and travellers crossing the border from Olvar. Julien V, King of Olvar had requested a reason for these tax increases, however the Archduke had remained silent, giving cause for concern to Julien. Now the campaign season had begun, it was time to settle the grievance. The conditions of the campaign were simple. If Julien won, the taxes would be lifted and trade would resume as normal. If Edmun won, the taxes would remain in place. Intelligent individuals might ask why Olvar didn't just cease trade with Abbas. The official answer was complex and confusing. Abbas was on the coast, meaning it would essentially be cutting off the sea route to the landlocked Olvar if they continued with these outrageous taxes. As Olvar was ringed on three sides by mountains, the easiest route for trade was to travel through the plains into Abbas, and then go by boat to their destination. The actual reason was because Julien felt he had been slighted by the Archduke, and wanted revenge. Petty reasons to wage war, but most of the rulers of the seven countries were so arrogant it was the only reason they needed. Of course, during the campaign many underhand deals were made, and tactics used. The rulers thought the Order of the Black rose only observed the main battles, but in truth they knew everything. Not that Valerie really cared what the Order knew or had a hand in. All she knew was that she had been paid by the Archduke of Abbas to steal a letter in the possession of the King of Olvar.

Valerie didn't care what the letter said, and she certainly didn't care about the war. All she cared about was the very large bag of gold the Archduke's agent had given her. Of course, sitting in King Julien's dungeon chained to a wall would make the theft a little harder to perform. Valerie sighed. She should really have seen this one coming. Thinking on it now, the Archduke probably had his own minions he could count on for this kind of job. Maybe the King's men had thought her a spy for Edmun? The politics of it all didn't really matter to her though. What did matter was getting out of here. Valerie looked around the small cell. She'd been in worse, and at least the straw was reasonably fresh. There was a click and her manacles fell away. She slipped the lockpick back behind her ear and got up, rubbing her wrists. Manacle locks were generally the same so they were easy, but doors were slightly different. A larger size meant more space for a more complex mechanism. This door was wooden and heavy. It had a large iron grate set in the top so guards could check on prisoners. Valerie watched a guard walk past the door. She listened to his footsteps pause, and then them running back. He skidded to a halt outside her cell.

"Hoy! How did you get out of your-"

Blood spurted out from one side of his head. Raising a hand to his head, the man slumped out of view. Valerie stared at the grate. She slowly moved over to the door and tried to peer out. She could only see the door of the cell opposite and a bit of the corridor. She heard footsteps approaching down the corridor. The person paused beside the door, then there was the creak of leather and a rustling sound. The lock turned with a thunk, and the door swung open. A hood and a black lacquered mask concealed the face of the man who had killed the guard. There was no mouth, only four vertical slits where the mouth should have been. The edging around the eyes was picked out in gold, as were the slits over the mouth. Valerie may not have been able to see his face, but she knew the rest of the outfit. The figure reached up and pulled the hood over his face, dropping it to the floor. Donovan looked back at Valerie.

"Fancy meeting you here." He said.

"Trust me, I'm more surprised at seeing YOU here." Valerie replied, stepping out of the cell.

"Really? It's campaign season. This is when I'm most active." Donovan said, drawing another arrow from the quiver on his hip. Valerie clocked this. Quiver on the hip? That's where horse archers wore their quivers. Maybe that's why he was such a good marksman?

"That does make sense." she said, looking around.

"What about you? Why are you here?" Donovan asked, knocking the arrow. His bow was the same as he had the last time she had met him, only this time she could see what it was made from. It was indeed a recurve bow, but it also looked like it was a composite. Valerie had a hard time discerning what it was made out of until it caught the light, gleaming dully. It was made from metal. The entire bow was made from metal. Two different types by the looks of it, even the string was metal. How on earth did he have the strength to draw that?

"Oh...I fell for a ruse. Stupid of me really." She said, dragging her eyes from the bow.

"Huh...well I have regicide to commit, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Wait, you're here to kill King Julien?"

"Yes. Your point?"

"Was it the Archduke?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm just curious."

"Well, you know what they say about curiosity and cats."

"Are you saying you're gonna kill me?"

Donovan sighed and drew his bow. Valerie didn't even see the arrow leave the string. She turned and saw a guard, pinned to the wall, arrow piecing his heart. Donovan stepped past her and headed down the corridor.

"Wait a moment!" She called, running after him.

Donovan moved through the castle dungeons, silently killing any guards he came across. This was completely different from before, when he'd let the guards live. They had eventually come to the guardroom, which was at the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeon. At the top of the stairs before going through the heavy wooden door, Donovan paused to unstring his bow, winding the string around the bow, slipping it into its waxed leather cover. He slung it over his back and spent a few moments adjusting the buckle. Valerie watched from the bottom of the stairs. How could he be acting so calm that close to the guardroom? Surely he wouldn't be able to kill all the off duty guards? He reached down to his scabbard and drew his sword, he first time Valerie had seen him do so. The blade was long and straight, single edged and broad. The tip of the blade was at a sharp angle, making it look like a triangle that had been cut in half. Half way up the straight back of the sword from the hilt, were thick serrations. Almost like hooks, Valerie assumed they were for catching and breaking other weapons. That meant this sword would have to be very strong. The light glinted off the blade, and Valerie saw the metal clearly. Damascus steel. The ripples in he blade gave it away. Valerie had never seen a blade quite its like before. From what she could see of the hilt, it was a standard crossguard and heavy circular pommel found on most longswords. It looked strangely out of place on a blade that looked so...brutally beautiful. What he did next with it was surprising. Flipping it round in his hand, he stabbed it into the stone floor. The blade bit deep, sinking into the stone with ease. Valerie was somewhat shocked at this treatment. Then she realised that he had just cut through stone. Despite herself, Valerie couldn't help but be intrigued by this man. This very, very dangerous man. She heard voices and footsteps from the other side of the door; clearly the noise of solid stone being pierced had attracted the guard's attention. The door's lock thudded, and the door swung open. What happened next was over before Valerie had blinked. She had to concentrate very hard to remember what Donovan had done.

As the guard opening the door had stepped through, Donovan had grabbed his arm, pulled it straight and brought his elbow down on it, snapping it cleanly. He then hit the guard with a flat hand once in the throat, then grabbed the guard's head and twisted. There was a gristly noise and the body tumbled down the stairs. Pulling his sword from the stone with a small shower of sparks, Donovan had vanished into the guardroom. Valery stepped over the body lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and slowly made her way up to the door. She could hear shouts of surprise, and what sounded like buckets of water being knocked over, and slabs of meat being dropped onto the flagstones. She knew all too well what was really going on though. She arrived at the top of the stairs and came upon a massacre. Blood splattered the walls, floors and ceiling. Twelve bodies were strewn about the room, none of them so much as twitched. Blood was pooling rapidly on the floor from bodies that had been hewn open. Several guards were still in full armour, a thickly padded gambeson under a chainmail hauberk with a leather surcoat over the top, displaying the Olvar coat of arms. The armour had done nothing though. The rings of the chainmail, designed to provide protection against slashing weapons, had been cut like soft butter. Cleft rings littered the floor amongst the gore, shining like silver stars in an ocean of crimson. Valerie stepped gingerly over the bodies, trying not to step in puddles of blood. She had seen some pretty bloody scenes before, but this was somehow worse considering one man was responsible for this. She noticed too that the mortal wounds inflicted on these guards were curving, elegant even. Valerie shook her head and went over to the chest where they had stashed her things. Fortunately blood hadn't gotten into the chest, so her equipment was still (mostly) clean. After she had gotten dressed, she headed for the door. She was surprised nobody had come to check on the guardroom yet. But as she entered the corridor, she saw why.

Leading up into the castle proper, the corridor was a grisly scene. Bodies lay slumped, propped or pinned along the corridor. There were guards stuck to the wall by their own spears, guards with daggers and knives lodged in throats and eye sockets, dismembered limbs, and even swords that had had their blades cut in half. Not broken, cut. Clearly Donovan's sword was enchanted. It had to be. How else could it cut through steel, flesh and bone without breaking? Either that or Donovan was a lot stronger than most humans. But even Minotaurs weren't strong enough to cut steel. Valerie picked her way gingerly over and around the corpses. Blood was trickling down the stone steps in a macabre river. A door at the top of the stairs was open, so Valerie cautiously made her way through it. It opened into a small courtyard surrounded by high walls. In the center of the courtyard was Donovan, fighting three guards at once. He lunged forwards past the spear of one guard, grabbing his hapless opponent by the face. He spun the guard around so that the spears of his comrades pierced him in the back. As the remaining guards tried to free their spears from their companion's body, Donovan leapt gracefully between them. His sword glinted in the bright sunlight as it arced through the air. Blood sprayed against the walls around the courtyard and the guards slumped. Donovan straightened up and sheathed his sword.

"You know, you don't have to stay here. Your job was clearly a trap." He said, turning to face Valerie.

"I know that. I have the manacle bruises to prove it."

"So why are you still here? The only reason I can think of is that you have a terribly morbid fascination with blood and bodies."

"I think I more have a terribly morbid fascination with you." Valerie said coyly.

"Yes... you implied as much when we last met."

"Do you not have a king to kill?"

"I do. Here." Donovan tossed something to Valerie.

"What is it?"

"The key to the treasury." Donovan said with a small smile, and leapt into the air. He landed on a wall and kicked off, launching himself up into the air. He kicked off the opposite wall and vanished over the roof of the castle.

"Oh you cunning and magnificent bastard." Valerie said, looking down at the key.

Donovan hopped lightly along the red tiled roof of the castle. If the smell of baking was anything to go by, he was over the kitchens. The alarm hadn't been sounded yet, but it would only be a matter of time before the patrols changed and the carnage would be discovered. He paused on the roof and looked up towards the main keep. The royal residence in Olvar was an impressive affair. The capital city (also known as Olvar) was built on the slopes of a large, wide hill that was surrounded by a defensive wall. The castle was perched atop this hill, with another wall enclosing the small town that was the outer keep. In the middle of the buildings built to cater to the needs of the royalty, was yet another wall, which protected the heavily fortified inner keep. Hardly surprising then, that the nickname for the city of Olvar was 'The City of Walls'. Donovan was currently headed towards the walls of the inner keep. He disliked operating during the day, but as the Archduke wanted to avoid another battle, he had to work fast. The two country's armies were preparing to clash even as Donovan bounded over the roofs, heading for the inner keep. The assassin seemed to realise something, and reached a hand up to his face. When he took his hand away, a black mask with gold edged eye sockets and no visible mouth, save for four vertical slits, had taken the place of his face. Two green pinpoints of light glimmered into life in the center of the eye sockets, moving around like normal eyes. Donovan reached the wall of the inner keep and began rapidly scaling it. His leather gauntlets and his boots had pointed metal spikes on the fingers and toecaps, which he used to haul himself up the masonry. Vaulting over the parapet, he landed on top of the wall just as the alarm bells in the outer keep sounded.

Time being of the essence, Donovan looked towards the inner keep. He spotted his point of entry and leapt for it. He sailed through the air and smashed through a window, landing in the corridor beyond and rolling upright. He drew his dagger and crept along the corridor. He could hear the sounds of guards running to their stations. If he didn't hurry, they would soon evacuate the royal family. He approached a junction in the corridor and paused. He could hear guards coming.

"Two..." he thought. He readied his blade and moved to the corner of the junction. Crouching down he waited. As soon as he saw a boot he made his move. In one fluid motion he stabbed his blade through the foot of the first guard, withdrew the dagger and stabbed it up through the buckling man's chin. Spinning around and taking the dagger with him, he rammed it through the eye socket of the second guard. The bodies hit the ground a split second after each other. Donovan moved silently onwards, making his way up the keep. After a while, he stopped. Where were all the guards? He should have run into more by now.

"Oh great. This whole thing was a set up." He muttered, his voice distorting strangely through the mask. He sighed and continued up the stairs. He had come this far after all. Might as well let whoever set this up have their fun gloating at him before he sent them to the abyss. He arrived at the King's private chambers and kicked the door in. What he saw was not a company of guards and a smug looking noble, but a lot of barrels. Barrels with red runes painted on the sides, runes that were suddenly glowing, and rather rapidly disappearing from the sides of the barrels. The green pinpoints in the mask visibly widened. Donovan ran into the room, jumped over the barrels and through the barred window behind them. He fell through the air in a shower of glass, brick and wood. Then the world above him went white. The force of the explosion slammed him into the ground and showered red-hot rubble over the rest of the castle. Donovan groaned and rolled onto his front, pushing himself up and on to his feet. A good quarter of the upper keep was missing. Fire billowed from the rent walls and alarms started sounding in the city below. Donovan looked up at the flames and popped his shoulder back into its socket.

"Bloody alchemists..." he grumbled.

Valerie looked over her shoulder when the keep exploded. She shook her head and casually strolled out of the city with the Olvar Crown Jewels safely tucked away in her pack. It was time to pay the Undercity a visit. Someone there would buy these beauties.

The Undercity was exactly what it sounded like. It was a city underground. But not under a particular city, as most people suspected. It was the legendary City of Thieves. In order to reach it, one would have to use the treacherous path that wound up the side of a mountain, barely wide enough for a single horse cart. The path climbed about half way up the mountain, before seemingly ending in a wide, shallow cave. If the correct passphrase was spoken, the cave wall (which was actually just a wooden frame with painted canvas stretched over it) would open, revealing a large wooden door built into the rock. Once inside the door, the path would continue into the bowels of the earth. But the reward for doing all this was rather special. The Undercity was unlike most cities. It was a city built inside a vast underground cave system. The main chamber was two miles across; and was connected to other smaller caves by a complex network of natural tunnels. The walls of the caves had been carved out and shaped into stairs and houses. Buildings littered the floor of the cave and spiraled up the colossal stalactites and stalagmites that filled the caverns. Lanterns and alchemical lights made the caverns sparkle like they were filled with stars. Although the population had the reputation of being entirely made up of the professional undesirables of society, it had a thriving population of Taverners, Blacksmiths, Bakers, Butchers, Tanners, and any and every other skilled trade required to make a city function and thrive. That being said, it was still a lawless haven for thieves, rogues, assassins, highwaymen, bandits, raiders and mercenaries that went in to the city's six thousand strong population. Just going to show some reputations, though they may seem outlandish, were well deserved. There was no central authority in the city, as the inhabitants tended to keep the peace quite nicely on their own. It operated on an honour system of sorts. If you didn't cause trouble, trouble would not find you. It was considered healthy for people to work their differences out in a bar room brawl. It also meant bodies didn't have to be cleared out of the street. Of course murders were common, and some feuds between families and gangs had been going on for decades.

Valerie was sat in 'Trolls', one of the more 'upmarket' taverns in Undercity (which wasn't saying much). She was sipping from a goblet of wine, watching a brawl in the center of the pub while waiting for her contact. Valerie's contact was a shady little man by the name of Dregs. He was the city's go-to guy for getting rid of rare and valuable jewels. Everyone knew if you had something rare or famous, he could find someone to buy it. Valerie was so engrossed in the fight she didn't notice a hooded figure slide in the seat opposite from her. There was a pause and the hooded figure cleared its throat. Valerie started out of her reverie and turned.

"Is that Johnson and The Bear going at it again?" The figure asked in a somewhat nasal voice.

"Yes indeed. I think The Bear might have the upper hand today." Valerie replied.

"Oh really? He lost the last brawl didn't he?"

"Not by much though. Johnson hit him with a jug."

"Ah, should have seen that coming. Anyway. Your acquisition."

"Oh yes? Genuine, I trust?"

"Very much so. Very much so indeed."

"Found a buyer?"

"Oh yes."

"How much?"

"Eight thousand."

Valerie nearly choked on her wine.

"Is that after your broker's fee?" she squeaked.

"Yes."

"Eight?"

"Yes."

There was a dull thud, and Valerie felt something heavy fall against her leg.

"They already paid?"

"Whenever I get an item from the infamous Silver Fang, it tends to go rather quickly."

"Well I'm glad I can be such a good source of business for you."

"Me too. Now, I must take my leave. I have six other clients to deal with today, not to mention trouble just walked through the door."

The cheetah woman turned to the door and saw a rather familiar face walk in. It was Donovan.

"Uh oh." She said.

"You heard then?" Dregs asked.

"Heard? I was there!"

"I think Jack the Knife is in for it today. I hear he was the one that tipped off the good King Julien and helped set the trap."

"Oh dear. He really does look rather angry."

"Right well, I don't want to be around when this goes down, so I shall take my leave of you."

With that, Dregs slipped out of his seat and scurried for the door.

Donovan was angry. He hadn't been this angry in a very long time. In fact he couldn't even remember the last time he felt rage like this boiling up inside him. After returning the Archduke's fee, he had spent a few days trying to find out what happened. When he eventually ferreted out why he'd had several dozen barrels of alchemical fire in front of him instead of a king when he'd opened that door... well. Needless to say any past history he'd had with Jack the Knife was going to be settled today. Jack the Knife was another assassin. Well, he called himself an assassin but he was loud, over the top and sadistic. The kind of person people hired when they wanted someone to make a mess. He was little more than an arrogant mercenary who used his gang of beastmen to do all the dirty work. The door to Trolls opened and Donovan stepped inside. It was busy as usual. Johnson and The Bear were busy fighting in the middle of the bar. The door closed behind him with a resonating thud. He began to walk towards the bar. As he moved through the crowd, the chatter and conversation slowly died. Even Johnson and The Bear stopped their fight to let him pass. By this point the whole of Undercity knew what Jack had done. Gossip spread that fast. Not to mention Jack had a habit of bragging about this kind of thing, and brag he had... in pretty much every pub in Undercity. The sound of the door opening and closing once was the only sound in the pub aside from Donovan's footfalls. He arrived at the bar.

"Where."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A statement that suggested full cooperation would be in everyone's best interest. Harald (the landlord) simply nodded towards the stairs. He had lived in Undercity his whole life. He usually didn't take shit from anyone, but even he knew when it was better to shut up. There was a clink as Donovan turned towards the stairs. There was a leather bag on the bar. Harald scooped up the bag and stashed it under the counter. There was an air of silent, bloodthirsty excitement in the bar. This was going to be good.

Donovan walked with a measured pace up the stairs and out of sight of the bar. There was a brief pause, and then a loud crack, a meaty thump and a gurgling sound. A Minotaur appeared at the top of the stairs. He was clutching the broken haft of a halberd. The rest of the halberd had been rammed through his neck. The bull-man gurgled once, then fell down the stairs and rolled to a halt in a crumpled, bloody heap. There was a sudden cheer and applause from the crowd. This really was going to be good!

Donovan watched the Minotaur disappear down the stairs, and heard the cheer from the patrons of the bar. He turned back to the door and booted it off its hinges. Jack the Knife was standing, sword drawn, behind two more of his thugs.

"What the hell do you want, Obsidian." He said with a sneer. Donovan looked at the human, and then looked at his large canine guards. Then he reached down and drew his long knife. It was a seax with a simple Oak handle and a heavy, foot long, single edged, iron blade. The two guards moved forwards with their weapons raised. Donovan Stepped forwards and deftly avoided the first blow that came crashing down towards his head. There was no chance for a second blow. Donovan stepped under the guard of the first mercenary and gutted him, his heavy seax punching through skin and muscle with ease. He withdrew his blade, flicking blood into the eyes of the second mercenary, who staggered back. Donovan's blade caught him in the throat. He slumped to the floor, blood flowing from his cut throat. Donovan turned to Jack, who lunged at him with his sword. Donovan parried the sword and grabbed Jack by the collar, yanking the human forwards and head-butting him. Blood sprayed from Jack's broken nose, but Donovan wasn't done. He turned and brought his arm around, flinging Jack through the broken door. He tumbled onto the landing and fell. He scrambled away and got up, drawing a boot knife.

"You boke mah dose you bastard!" He spat.

"Who told you to fuck with me?"

"Hah! I'b not going to tell you that!"

"Fine."

Jack moved forwards but Donovan just grabbed his knife hand and crushed it. Jack screamed. Donovan grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him down the landing, casually tossing him down the stairs. There was another cheer from the crowd in the bar. Donovan slowly descended the stairs, not taking his eyes off Jack, who had rolled on top of the dead Minotaur. Sheathing his knife, Donovan descended the stairs, watching jack scramble to his feet. He grabbed a bottle off a nearby table. Donovan cracked his knuckles and continued his advance. Jack swung at him, but Donovan blocked the blow, and then with the same hand slapped Jack on the side of his jaw. There was a click, and the crowd collectively winced. Jack fell to the floor, nose and hand broken, and now his jaw dislocated. The crowd was cheering and whooping now. Jack wasn't the most popular character in town, but then everyone liked to see a good 'justice' killing. Not to mention the Obsidian Blade was the one doing the killing.

"They want to see your blood, Jack." Donovan said with a small smile.

"Nnn..."

"Who am I to deny the crowd what they want?"

"Nnnng!"

Donovan reached down to his belt, and rested his hand on the silver and ebony hilt of the Obsidian Blade. He slowly drew it, the volcanic glass gleaming in the smoky lamplight. He grabbed jack around the neck, and hauled him to his feet. The let go and then took a step back. The crowd hushed, waiting expectantly. All eyes on that gleaming black blade. The first blow hit Jack in the stomach. The second came a split second later, hitting him in the lungs. He only hand time to gasp once. Donovan twirled the dagger theatrically in his hand, holding it in a reverse grip. The third blow hit Jack in the throat. The fourth and final blow hit him in the temple, the blade piercing his skull like a hot poker through paper.

The crowd cheered as Jack slumped to the floor. Sure he probably had a few friends who would not take kindly to his death, but messing with The Obsidian Blade was apparently very bad for your health. Donovan reached down and pulled a bloodstained pouch off Jack's belt. It felt nicely heavy.

"Jack is buying everyone a round!" Donovan shouted, tossing the coin purse to Harald. There was another loud cheer, and the bar went back to normal like nothing had happened. Donovan wiped the obsidian dagger on Jack's coat and sheathed it. Harald slid a large ceramic bottle along the bar, which Donovan went over to and picked up.

"I hope this will cover the blood stains and the other damages." He said

"Ah, don't worry about it. These idiots have enough gear on 'em to pay for the next few nights worth of fights." Harald replied, waving a hand. Donovan nodded at him and turned from the bar. He looked around and saw Valerie waving at him from her corner table. Donovan raised a brow, before walking over to the table.

"You, my dear Obsidian, are a total enigma." She said as he undid his sword belt, hanging the weapon on the back of a chair.

"Oh really? How so?" Donovan replied, seating himself and pulling the cork out of the ceramic bottle. He took a long swig and sighed.

"When I first met you, you seemed cold, distant... unemotional. Now I see you are just as human as the rest of us."

"Well..."

"Alright, you don't have fur or spots, but I won't hold that against you." Valerie said with a grin. Donovan gave her a sideways look, before taking another swig from his bottle.

"So aside from revenge killing, what brings you to Undercity?" She asked, swirling the wine in her goblet. Donovan shrugged.

"I like it here. This is a good pub that sells good drink."

"Yes... funny how a city full of thieves and bandits has the choicest wines and foods."

"Indeed."

Valerie's eyes narrowed.

"Are you drinking a four-oh-six straight from the bottle?"

"Yeah."

"You sir, are the most uncivilized person I've ever met."

"I certainly hope so!"