LordReblik

Here is my second entry into the Dice Games. I had to rush it a little because I procrastinated, but I met an interesting character that I want to develop more. I’ll edit it for realsies later. Tell me what you think:

President Dorian Gregersen waved goodbye to his family. In his left hand he carried a bottle of water, and instead of his usual presidential dress he wore a pair of running shorts and at t-shirt. His little girl, Annie, waved at him, and his wife smiled at both of them. “I’ll be back before dark,” he said to them.

Glen, his wife, kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll have everything ready by then.”

 You mean the servants will, Dorian thought, but he only said, “Good, take care.” With that he left their small, by presidential standards, vacation cottage and set off towards the woods at a run. He loved his beautiful wife, but sometimes he wished they were more of a normal family. Becoming president had never been his dream, but Glen’s will and his father’s caused him to cave in. Now he was about to become involved in one of the more dangerous aspects of his job.

Every second or two he would check his watch. The emissary of the Brotherhood of the Gray Robes would not be late, none of his kind were ever late. What his kind was exactly, he had no idea. Dorian had always met one of the Gray Monks in the middle of the woods, and they always wore their hooded robes with the hood up. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever even seen their faces.

Dorian checked his watch one more time, and found that it was time for the Gray Monk to appear. As if on cue a slight, whispery voice said his name. He turned around to see one of the Gray Monks in their gray robes watching him. He, Dorian assumed the Gray Monk was a man, just stood there and waited for Dorian’s reply.

“Greetings,” Dorian said.

“We have come to discuss the renewal of our treaty,” the Gray Monk said. His voice gave little sign of his gender, and under the Gray Monk’s hood all Dorian saw was darkness.

“I just need you to sign this,” Dorian said, holding out the treaty document to the Gray Monk.

The Gray Monk took the document. “Has anything been changed?” he asked.

Dorian hoped that the Gray Monk could not see his nervous gulp. “No, nothing has been change by my people,” he said. “I assure you of that.” The president’s hand felt for his cell phone in his pocket. With one click of a button he could call in his personal assassin.

The Gray Monk read through the document and pulled out a quill from somewhere in his robes. With a flourish he signed the treaty then handed the document back to Dorian. Dorian took the document and put it away.

A smile broke out onto the president’s face. Everything had gone as planned. He held out his hand for the Gray Monk to shake. The Gray Monk just ignored it.

“I will see you here next year, Gregersen,” the Gray Monk said as he left the spot where Dorian still stood.

President Dorian said nothing. With quick fingers he pressed a single button on his cell phone. Let them deal with this part of the plan, Dorian thought to himself.

 

Expert assassin Fayth Deutscher watched her target walk along the forest floor. Gray robes covered every part of the man’s body, and even though she could not see his face she could not think who else President Gregersen would want her to kill. Actually she wasn’t sure if the president ever wanted her to kill. It was usually the vice president who made those decisions.

She positioned the dagger in her hand as best as she could. If she could finish off the Gray Monk with only one strike then there would be little danger to her. The Gray Monk looked up into the tree. With a high-pitched cry Fayth leapt off the tree with the dagger pointed straight at the Gray Monk’s heart. He had seen her, and now it was best to go all out.

The Gray Monk threw his hand up, and Fayth’s dagger drove straight into his hand. The runes on the dagger glowed, but the Gray Monk only pulled his hand a way and threw Fayth to the ground.

Fayth found a heavy foot planted onto her chest. “Tell your leader that the Brotherhood will not take this kindly,” the Gray Monk said to her. “The treaty I signed is no longer valid, and this attack on my life calls for war, Fayth Deutscher.”

The expert assassin could only grunt her agreement. In her mind she roared angrily at those who had sent her on this assignment. As long as she could get away from this sole Gray Monk she could leave and never be found again.

The Gray Monk lifted his foot of Fayth’s chest. “You have been marked, Deutscher,” he said. “You will be the first to die at the hands of the Brotherhood.”

Fayth took a step back and began to protest, but the Gray Monk was gone before she could get a word out. “President Gregersen has a lot to answer for,” she muttered under her breath. Already she had decided that she would die at no hands of a Gray monk no matter what she had to do.