Snippet #1548022

"O-of course sir! I'll be right on my way!" She jumped up from her seat and bolted out before the masked doctor could stop her. Etzel shrugged once.

That girl is going to forget how to get back the way she’s scurrying around. Garbiel calmly calculated while watching his new resident physician rush to wherever she needed to gather her possessions, anxious about her new position, while The Physician watched the both of them patiently, appearing very knowing and confident, but a slight sense of dis-ease or uncertainty permeated through his composed façade. He remembered one conversation long ago that the two of them had pertaining to their innate abilities of observation that Etzel had referred to as “Cold Reading” in the Assassin’s circle, a very crucial aspect that was ingrained upon their psyche regardless of their own capabilities, but this term changes in the world of a Blacksmith. It is simply known as “Divination”, where the blacksmith in question is supposed to “feel” the entire process of forging; trying to discover strength and weakness in any piece of steel. Oddly enough the two men sometimes did this for such long periods of time people thought them dead, crazy, or senile in the Smith’s case, and on one occasion a soon-to-be VERY unlucky apprentice Assassin asked if he could join their staring contest.

"Dammit. None of this makes sense."There called out an all-too-familiar voice approaching the two men from the other side of the Archives, apprehension lurking in the dark recesses of her eyes. By the look in her eyes Garbiel knew this was not the first time something had happened, but to show even minutely on an Apprentice of The Guild it had to have been dangerous. A dark sense of foreboding crept upon the aging man, and some voice in the back of his mind kept tugging him to the death of the Marquis Adam Goldwater a year prior."Doctor. Loki, Lord Taylor and Pandora were just targeted again. You should be careful."

The Smith sat impassively as the rather blunt, and foolish, statement was made; even here in the Assassin’s Guild under the protection of Amon they were not necessarily safe. The events after the death of the distinguished Member of Parliament were unbeknownst to the man, but he was aware of the rather tenuous situation within the Parliament and just how far that was disseminating within the Guild. The semblance of a labyrinthine puzzle formed within his mind before a rather petite girl approached the trio, one he had noticed several times around the Guild for her blue eyes.

“Hello, everyone. I hadn’t expected to see most of you here.”

"Miss Elling."

A short dyad soon followed between the youth, detailing multiple assassination attempts on this Pandora Elling, it must be her name because there was only one Lord Taylor, an old acquaintance of his none the less, the Princess Loki, which was a matter of conjecture but probably true since it was mention in conjunction with Lord Taylor. What in the pits of hell has that man gotten himself into? The two children soon grew more apprehensive nearing the end of the short exchange, and the previous hint of dis-ease on Etzel’s countenance showed as fear in the briefest of moments through his body language, but otherwise words did not pass lips, nor mask reveal truth beneath.

“Excuse me miladies, but may I ask for a momentary pause here? Physician, do not assume I doubt security, but is there somewhere else things of this nature may be discussed? I know that I have heard more than is healthy thanks to these children so I might as well understand what is happening.”

Long, thin fingers probed into an inside coat pocket, extracting a rather elaborate silver pocket-watch from the aperture, the emblem of the House Forgefire inscribed upon both sides. His right hand rose upwards to flick the latch with the thumb, while calm eyes gave a rather cursory glance at the time, and quickly snapping it shut to refill its place in his pocket.

Whatever he was getting himself into it was not going to be good, and he was definitely not getting any younger. He had always tried to avoid these dangerous predicaments, but when you make weapons for a living it seemed to come as a side-effect every now and again. This would probably take more time than he thought, so it would be best to send word out beforehand so that the house will be prepared should he arrive after Miss Steins.

“I believe I have some time left before Miss Steins is prepared with her things, I will send a raven with the necessary instructions to my steward. Now is there somewhere else a little more secluded?”