SICARII

The dawn broke, casting a soft, amber light across the rooftops as Luna and Lara stepped out of their residence and began the walk to headquarters. Today was the day; this would be their final briefing before they set off on the mission. The air was thick with anticipation as they approached the briefing room, where they spotted Otto at the front, his stance firm and resolute. Zak and another man, who Luna quickly recognized as Luca, sat beside him, both leaning forward with focused expressions.

"Welcome, ladies. Please, have a seat," Otto said, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of urgency. "There have been some last-minute adjustments to the mission plan. Zak and Luca will be joining you. Recent intelligence suggests the journey may be more perilous than we initially expected."

As Luna and Lara settled into their seats, Otto wasted no time in launching into the mission details. "You're all familiar with the mission outline: to escort our representative safely to the peace summit and bring him back unharmed. He'll be traveling in a carriage, accompanied by his assistant and a coachman. The four of you will act as his guard, running alongside the carriage for the entirety of the journey."

Otto paused, his gaze moving between them. "The journey is roughly twelve hours, round-trip—a manageable distance, given your training. Each of you will position yourselves on opposite sides of the carriage to ensure complete security at all times. Our route will take us through Fekka, the border town between Delria and Nordia—Luna, I believe that's your birthplace?"

Luna nodded, her brow furrowing. "Isn't that place a constant war zone?"

Otto gave a grim smile. "It is, though a temporary ceasefire has been negotiated for the summit. It will hold… we hope. Once you reach the summit safely, Zak, as squad leader, will keep us updated via secure lines. You'll check in every three hours. Should we lose contact, backup will be dispatched immediately."

Otto straightened, his eyes steady as they met each of theirs. "You're among the best Sicarii we have. If any threat emerges, I trust you'll neutralize it. That said, Delria has every reason to keep any rogues under control—most of their people desire peace as much as we do."

He gestured toward the door. "The carriage will be ready to depart within the hour. Double-check your weapons, gather any additional supplies, and prepare yourselves. This mission demands your utmost focus, and I have no doubt each of you is up to the task.

Weapons gathered and secured, the four stepped out together, the air charged with a mixture of nerves and camaraderie. Zak glanced over at Luna with a smirk. "Nice to see you so soon," he said, his tone casual but warm.

"Likewise," Luna replied, matching his smile.

Zak then turned to Lara with a nod. "Hey, cousin."

Lara returned his nod silently, her expression calm and steady, the way it always was before a mission. Luca, meanwhile, caught Luna's eye, offering her a slight grin.

"Hello again," he said. "You impressed me in that last simulation. Didn't think you'd get the better of both Ivar and me. I look forward to working with you."

"Thanks," Luna replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "You weren't bad yourself."

As they walked, Luna cast a glance toward the horizon. "Has anyone here been to Delria before?"

"Nope," Lara answered. "This is actually our first real mission. We only joined the organization this year. Our families trained us young, but it's prohibited to go on missions until we're officially in."

"I've heard stories about Delria," Luca said, his voice dropping slightly, as though sharing a secret. "They say it's all dense forests and endless greenlands, but the people there… they're rumored to be brutal. Almost everyone's a soldier. They're of the Beast Bloodline, so they all know how to channel their inner strength."

"A whole nation of soldiers?" Luna murmured, feeling a shiver of unease. "That's... a bit intimidating."

As they neared the stables, the carriage came into view, polished and sturdy, with the representative seated inside beside his assistant, both looking somewhat tense. The representative leaned out, his expression sharp and scrutinizing.

"I'm furious they're sending a bunch of newcomers to escort me on a mission as risky as this," he grumbled, his gaze sweeping over each of them. "But I'm told you're the best of the new recruits. Prove them right, and don't let me down."

"Understood," they replied in unison, voices steady and resolute.

With that, they took their positions as the horses began to pull the carriage forward. The walls of Nordia faded behind them, and the wild lands beyond stretched out before them, a blend of opportunity and peril. The journey had begun.

After a steady three-hour run, the group finally arrived at Fekka. Zak quickly pulled out a secure communicator, sending a brief message back to headquarters to confirm their arrival.

Fekka lay sprawled before them, a town scarred by years of conflict, caught in the uneasy space between two warring nations. Buildings stood fractured and worn, their walls pocked with the marks of countless battles. Windows, broken and abandoned, stared out like hollow eyes, while doorways sagged from neglect. Dust and ash seemed to coat everything, dulling what little color remained and muffling any last signs of life the town once had.

The streets were populated by people moving slowly, shadows of their former selves. Men and women shuffled along, their faces lined with grief and resilience, each step heavy with the weight of unseen scars. Children sat in clusters or wandered nearby, their faces solemn and far too knowing, eyes bearing a wisdom born from hardship. The silence around them was thick, broken only by the occasional murmur or the sound of feet dragging through dirt.

Though most of the townsfolk were of Nordic descent, a few Beast folk mingled among them—warriors who had somehow found a way to coexist in this place with their former enemies. Their expressions were no less grim, yet there was an air of mutual respect between them, a shared understanding that transcended bloodlines and past enmities. Fekka was not a place of hope but a fragile haven, where even the briefest glimpse of peace was something to cling to.

The despair hung in the air, pressing down on Luna and her companions as they took in the haunted faces around them, knowing full well the fragile truce might be the only thing keeping this town from falling apart entirely.

The squad moved cautiously through Fekka, their footsteps slow and measured as they advanced deeper into the heart of the town. The main road was strewn with remnants of past skirmishes—burnt carts, shattered barrels, and crumbling stone walls streaked with ash and grime. The closer they came to the town's edge, the more they saw signs of life amidst the rubble: small market stalls with wilted produce, makeshift tents where families huddled, and vendors quietly offering what little wares they had to anyone who passed by.

Everywhere they looked, there was evidence of suffering. People clung to loved ones, eyes downcast, and others leaned against walls with a haunted look, their faces etched with memories of violence and loss. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and damp earth, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood—a reminder that peace was a fragile concept here, forever tainted by a history of hostility.

As they reached the center of Fekka, an elderly man appeared, shuffling into their path. His thin, frail frame was draped in tattered clothes, his face weathered and lined, but his eyes still burned with fierce defiance. He raised a trembling fist, his voice cracked but loud as he addressed them.

"There can never be peace between our nations!" he shouted, his voice carrying through the empty street. "The Nordic people have suffered the Beast people of Delria for too long. We will no longer be your slaves!"

The squad instinctively tensed, their hands moving closer to their weapons as they prepared for any potential threat. But a quick glance exchanged between them confirmed what they soon realized—the old man was unarmed and, despite his conviction, posed no danger. His words, though fiery, came from a place of pain rather than hostility.

Zak stepped forward, his tone calm yet firm. "Please, step aside, old man. We mean no harm."

The man's gaze shifted to Zak, a flicker of sadness passing through his eyes. "Before I go, let me tell you the true history of Delria and Nordia," he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. He stood there, resolute, as though compelled to share a story buried in the ruins of his people, one that refused to be silenced even amidst the scars of war.