X. He was standing by theside of the street, watching the parade of flower-decked floats pass by. The crowd had joined in, a great river of people flowing down the cobble-stoned road. The parade snaked through the streets of Prontera, capital city of Schwarzwald. It was the Flower Festival.
The afternoon sun shone down upon the celebration. A multitude of flowers including the gigantic blossoms found on Mt. Mjolnir's eastern slope adorned the floats. Pecopecos adorned with puppy-love flower-chain circlets pulled the floats along. Everyone wore flower ornaments of some sort: from fancy flowers and huge sunflowers that seemed to grow out of the top of people's heads, to romantic flowers and leaves held in people's mouths. Bouquets of fresh roses littered the streets. A sweet aroma clung in the air.
The float now passing in front of him bore pots of tame mandragoras--carnivorous plants with creeping vines. The mayor of Prontera, Oswald Derfington, waved from his seat set upon the float, beaming down at the people watching him. Two swordsmen wearing sunglasses stood impassively on either side of Mayor Derfington, twin statues bearing large steel shields.
And then he saw movement with his eyes, movement that, somehow, did not belong to all this merry-making. A path cleared through the crowd, and yet the people did not seem to notice it. A man in dark purple, arms and legs wrapped with cloth bands, was making his way through the parade. He walked with a casual manner, extreme confidence showed with each stride. The man wore a pair of bunny ears set on a band upon his head, an accessory that clashed with his sombre appearance.
Something was about to happen. Fynn could feel it in the air. The crowd didn't seem to be aware of the man's existence, but for Fynn, he signified something. Somehow, this man meant death. The man was Death.
He watched as the man broke into a full sprint charging through the crowd. How he managed it, Fynn could not begin to understand. But he could see where the man was headed. The mayor's float.
The purple-suited man reached the float and vaulted over the mandragoras. The man landed in front of the mayor, and slashed with the katars suddenly strapped to his forearms. The twin blades caught the afternoon sun, blinding Fynn momentarily. When his vision returned, the man was gone. The major fell down onto the float's wooden floor, blood gushing out from a sliced throat.
The mayor's bodyguards sprang into attention, but they were too late. The crowd broke into chaos as people screamed, some trying to get away from the float, some trying to get closer to see what was going on.
Fynn scanned the parade. There was no sign of the mayor's assassin anywhere...
"I came here with two missions."
What startled Fynn wasn't surprise at hearing the voice, but disbelief at how much menace coated it. The man stood beside him, bunny ears drooping forward, a purple mask covering the lower part of his face.
"The first was to assassinate that corrupt piece of trash," the assassin continued.
Fynn gave his left wrist a flick. His dagger fell from the hidden sleeve sheath and into his hand. He gripped the handle, taking some comfort in holding a weapon.
The assassin glanced down at the dagger. "Heh. My second mission was to deliver a message to Diradem Tarkis."
"How did--"
"--I know your name? Like it's some big secret. Heh. Listen, I've got no time to play games with you. Come to the Temple of Assassins. That is the message."
"Why?"
The man gave no answer, just a small skip backwards--the bunny ears bobbing--and a gesture with both hands, and disappeared right before Fynn's eyes.
Rain began to fall, clashing with the afternoon sunshine.
