In the open courtyard of the royal palace, golden sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering warm patches of light across the ground. The great hero Arash flexed the arm that had only just been restored through divine magic, then leaned over a stone table, lifting a wine jar and drinking idly to pass the time.
Just as a light buzz began to set in, the faint sound of footsteps nearby caught his attention. He turned toward the shaded corridor across from him and casually greeted the approaching figure.
"Hey, good afterno—"
Buzz!
Before he could finish, the figure stiffened. Ether in the air surged and condensed as seventeen or eighteen magic circles flared into existence, instantly wrapping her in layers of protection.
"It's me, Arash Kamangir…"
"Ah, reflex. Just a reflex. My apologies, Arash-sama…"
Scheherazade awkwardly dispelled the defensive magecraft around her. After hesitating for a long moment, she edged forward along the wall, clutching two scrolls tightly in her hands. With every step, she glanced around furtively, as if expecting an army to burst out from any corner.
Faced with this colleague whose vigilance bordered on paranoia, Arash was at a loss. He simply changed the subject, pointing at her outfit.
"New robe?"
"Yes, yes! Made from magic spider silk. It resists cuts, is waterproof and poison-resistant, and I've added three layers of blessings and two defensive spell formulas. Much safer now!"
"And that metallic shine underneath?"
"I'm wearing inner armor. It can withstand blunt force!"
"Your shoes…"
"They boost speed, allow brief hovering, and adapt to terrain!"
"…Relax. This is the royal palace. The Romans aren't getting in here."
Arash rolled his eyes at the overly serious mage proudly listing off her life-saving gear and couldn't help but remind her.
"That's not necessarily true. The Great King is badly injured and hasn't come out of the Sacred Pool yet. What if someone tries to assassinate him?"
Scheherazade tightened her grip on the scrolls and answered solemnly.
Arash was about to reassure her, but then he remembered the monster who had pinned the Great King to a cliff with a single spear. He fell silent. His newly restored right arm throbbed faintly.
The war with Rome had already collapsed. The Empire had suffered heavy losses. In his current state, he had no idea whether the Great King's next plan in Greece would go smoothly.
"Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"
After only a few exchanges, Scheherazade suddenly sneezed three times in a row, barely suppressing the chill that had crept over her.
Lately, she kept feeling as if someone was watching her from the darkness, staring at her with ill intent. It left her restless, unable to sleep or eat properly. Even after upgrading her equipment, she still felt unsafe.
Only late at night, when she sat at her desk writing One Thousand and One Nights, could she immerse herself enough to ease the tension.
I have to update more tonight. No matter what!
Like a startled bird, the storyteller stiffened and silently made up her mind.
...
Meanwhile, in the Alborz mountain range, among the barren hills.
Amid the bleak, earth-toned landscape, two figures moved silently along a jagged mountain path, heading toward the outlying ridges of Alamut.
The deeper they went, the more desolate the surroundings became. In the ravines, scattered along the way, lay numerous skeletons stripped clean of flesh and organs.
Some belonged to animals. Others to humans.
Samael stopped, crouched down, and pulled an eagle feather from a skull. He examined it carefully. The dark sheen and steel-like hardness felt oddly familiar.
Familiar or not, he had no fondness for it, whether living or dead.
That lingering sense of being watched crept back into his mind. Samael glanced at the dark shapes circling overhead, tossed the feather aside, and gave a faint shake of his head.
Nearby, several vultures swooped down from cliffside caves, folding their wings as they landed on the branches of a dead tree. Their eyes shifted as they watched the two figures below, like scavengers waiting for corpses to rot.
So many feathered scavengers. No wonder they call this place the "Eagle's Nest."
Samael frowned slightly, an instinctive aversion stirring within him.
After all, in Persian, Alamut meant "Eagle's Nest."
It seemed they were close.
Even so, Samael made no move to continue forward.
Whoosh!
Clang!
In an instant, sharp whistling cut through the air. Arrows struck the ground before him, their fletching trembling.
Samael glanced at the shafts embedded at his feet, then slowly lifted his gaze toward the rocky cliffs on both sides, where figures were beginning to emerge one after another.
"Outsiders, this is no place for you. Whether you came by intent or by accident, if you cannot prove who you are, then I'm afraid you'll end up as food for the beasts."
Atop the cliff, a man in black robes and a white bone mask spoke in a muffled, ominous tone. With a lift of his thick right arm, he gave the signal. One after another, arrows gleaming with cold light were drawn and aimed at the two figures on the mountain path.
Looks like we came to the right place.
Samael remained completely at ease. His gaze passed over the man known as "Cursed Arm" Hassan and swept across the crowd before finally settling on the petite, purple-haired figure standing in a clear space where no one else dared approach. He casually raised a hand in greeting, pulled back his hood to reveal a West Asian face, and broke into a smile.
"Well, well. Long time no see, Miss Serenity. I've come to keep our appointment."
Those familiar Star Eyes, along with the voice etched deep in her memory, made the newly appointed Hassan of the Serenity freeze in realization. Then she noticed the arrows still trained on him from all directions, and her scalp tingled in alarm.
Serenity hurriedly leapt down from the cliff and dashed to Samael's side. Her throat tightened as she tried to speak, but before a word could leave her lips, the Ancient Serpent spread his arms and pulled her into an embrace, cutting her off.
An appointment? And he's not afraid of her poison?
Picking up on the implication, the surrounding Assassins exchanged subtle glances. Seeing Serenity in his arms, her posture half resisting and half yielding, their gazes toward the pair gradually took on a strange, knowing edge.
"Serenity, have your friend leave. Outsiders are not allowed near the Eagle's Nest. Even as a Hassan, you do not have that authority."
A layered voice—old and young, male and female all at once—spoke from beneath a bone mask. Nearby, the tall female Hassan of the Hundred Faces leaned against a dead tree at the cliff's edge, arms crossed, her long purple hair tied in a single ponytail. Her tone was calm and indifferent.
"Letting an outsider approach the Vulture's Nest… that breaks the rules…"
Cursed Arm's eyes flickered faintly as he added in a low voice.
Across from them, the smoke-soaked Hassan nodded in agreement. She brushed back her wine-red hair, her amber eyes sliding toward the uninvited guest. Taking a slow puff from her pipe, she exhaled a ring of white smoke and spoke in a husky, languid voice.
"That's right. Since you're the one who caused this, Serenity, you handle him. Interrogate him, then send him packing when you're done. Understood?"
Cursed Arm stiffened slightly at that, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Could they be any more obvious about covering for him?
Tsk… women…
Just as Cursed Arm, along with the other male Hassans like Shock-Tube and Shadow-Peel, exchanged looks and silently complained about the blatant favoritism, a somewhat confused voice came from the mountain path.
"But… the Elder already knows about us. And he's waiting at the Temple of the Evening Bell."
Serenity's reply left several of the Hassans stunned, their expressions turning increasingly strange as their gazes shifted back to the two of them.