A Gathering of Shadows (Aesha)

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Early in the Month of Aperitus in the Season of Summer, Era XIV

He was here.

Arriving at the impressive domicile of Nilmalas and Elvindra Mynendil, the much younger assassin was hesitant to summon the aforementioned pair with a knock upon their door. It had been a pattern, maybe more, since Nimavel had last seen either of his extended relatives. His last memories of them had included a duel whereby Nimavel’s abilities had been pitted against Nilmalas’s inside their dojo; that brutal contest had resulted in a draw.

It was one of the best memories of the assassin’s life.

When his mother had been slain during the Vysstichi invasion, Nilmalas and Elvindra had taken Nimavel as their own. Nimavel’s father, Ly’sarion, had broken down mentally and had subsequently been presumed unfit to nurture Nimavel at the time. During those years, the ones before he had returned to Silrosia to claim leadership of House Mynendil, Nilmalas and Elvindra had treated Nimavel like a son. They were the closest people to parents that the assassin had.

Sighing deeply, the Heru Mynendil raised a balled fist to the door, tapping it gently with inwardly curled knuckles to indicate his presence. They were at home, he knew, and thus the assassin returned the elevated hand to his side as he patiently waited for someone to answer the door. A part of him wondered who he would see first. Would it be Nilmalas? Or Elvindra? Perhaps even the stunning Tinalia, Nilmalas and Elvindra’s daughter who had intermittently trained with Nimavel as an adolescent. He hadn’t seen her in years.

Indeed, it was strange, the dichotomy that is, between Nilmalas’s family and Ly’sarion’s, the latter being far less pleasant company despite the immediate relationship that Nimavel shared with them. Nevertheless, it was good to be home, one of the few places that the assassin had ever called such.

[Aesha]

It was Tinalia. The girl looked liked her mother had probably done many eras previously. Her long black hair was identical to Elvindra's, as much as could be told, since it had been tied up into a glossy twist on the back of her head to keep it out the way. It was clear however, that the looks of Tinalia needed time to mature before she would be considered beautiful rather than just pretty, also reminiscent of her mother's older, dignified looks.

One of the main differences between the younger elf and the older though, was the eyes. The colour was the same, but whilst Elvindra's tended towards sternness, the eyes in front of Nimavel now hid a distinct twinkle of mischief in their depths; a worry trait for a would be assassin, perhaps?

It was clear that his cousin had been training, or something along those lines, since she was not dressed as her station befitted her. She wore a pair of tight fitting cotton breeches and a linen shirt that wasn't much looser. On her fit were simple sandals. If Tinalia stepped out into the street in what she was wearing, it would most likely be the scandal of the town. Daltina was very set in its way. Probably just answering the door was a risk, but any passerby with a nose too big would probably mistake her for a servant.

A look of mild suspicion - hardly even that really, more like faint concern - entered her eyes in the short amount of time between opening the door and recognising Nimavel. After realisation dawned, her face broke out into a faint smile. It had been a long time since she had seen her cousin, and presumably, she was pleased to see him.

"Ah, the wandering cousin returns I see." She opened the door that bit wider which was a wordless invitation for Nimavel to step inside the grand house once more, but the look on her face suggested she seemed rather intrigued with what her cousin had to say, and why he had ended up on her front doorstep. She seemed a little flightly but she was not naive enough to assume that Nimavel had just been passing through Daltina and decided to pop in for a cup of tea.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The mirth upon Tinalia’s face was unmistakable, or maybe it was the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, something that Nimavel did not fail to detect. Noting his cousin’s smile and returning it with a fraction of his own, the elfin lord dipped his head as he had done countless times before. Physical affection was not commonplace in the Mynendil family, neither in the immediate nor the extended, and this case was no different despite the time that had elapsed between the cousins’ last encounter.

“For a short time, cousin.”

Nimavel explained. Regardless of his terseness, the assassin’s voice was neither cruel nor impatient, merely impassive. Having learned to bridle his emotions at a young age, the Heru Mynendil seldom responded with anything more than a few words or a nod, and even then he had provided Tinalia with a little more. It was because she was one of the only people who he cared about, her and three or four more.

Upon entering the house, Nimavel casually glanced from one side to the next, a habit that he exercised even in the confines of his uncle’s place. Vigilance did not cost a crown, and it oftentimes reaped more benefits than detriments. Nevertheless, the place was tidy as always, and nothing, it seemed, had changed except for Tinalia herself.

“It is good to see you again. How has your training been progressing?”

He said and asked afterwards, returning his gaze to his cousin. Removing his boots at the front door and placing them ceremoniously to the side of the threshold, the assassin breathed out deeply as he noted the absence of his Uncle and Aunt. Although they had not greeted him, he was confident that they were somewhere about –perhaps upstairs.

“Are Uncle Nilmalas and Aunt Elvindra around?”

He inquired after Tinalia answered his previous question. Despite their familial bonds, Nimavel had never been significantly close to Tinalia as he had with Nilmalas and Elvindra.

[Aesha]

Tinalia merely nodded her head when Nimavel expressed he would only be staying for a short time. The female Mynendil had expected little else. It even seemed that she was trying to suppress a smile. Tinalia was no doubt used to her family's somewhat stiff formality when it came to familial affection, but something in Nimavel's almost indifference to seeing her again after so many years amused her.

"I expected nothing more, Selen."

Once Nimavel entered the house, Tinalia shut the door behind both of them, careful to do it as quietly as possible. Clearly she had had practice, for the large front door did not make a sound. She shrugged when Nimavel mentioned her training.

"It is progressing. That is the main thing."

Clearly it didn't seem to be a subject that Tinalia wanted to talk on currently. She was glad when Nimavel asked after her mother and father, in order to change the subject.

"My father is not here currently, but he should be back soon. Elvindra atara is in the parlour, i think. I will lead you to her."

His cousin said little more as she led Nimavel through the house he had spent several years of his life in. Elvindra was found in a smallish room that was furnished in the Daltinan style - a fireplace, highbacked sitting chairs and lots of chintz. Nimavel's aunt was seated in one of the chairs with some material in her hands, evidently fixing something. A small basket full of sewing equipment sat on the small low table by her chair. She looked up immediately as she heard the pair entering the room. Tinalia had no need for introductions. Immediately her mother put aside her task and stood up to greet her nephew. She looked exactly the same as the last time the elven assassin had seen her.

"Nimavel, it is good to see you again."

OOC: I took liberties with the house description. If its completely horribly wrong let me know ^^

[Nimavel Mynendil]

OOC: absolutely perfect =)

It was not hostility that distanced the cousins’ relationship. If someone were to threaten Tinalia Mynendil, the Heru Mynendil would be among the first to rally to her side in defense. But words had never been commonplace in the Mynendil family; they did not show love to one another through physical expression or acts of kindness, but through devotion and unspoken loyalty to one another.

The assassin’s lavender eyes flickered over Tinalia as she refrained from expounding upon her training. He had expected as much, but given the purpose of his endeavor to Daltina, Nimavel would have preferred confirmation that she was prepared to embark on this future chapter of House Mynendil’s history. The clan needed everyone now, everyone capable and competent of the prospective tasks at hand.

Nodding silently in understanding, Nimavel followed after Tinalia, his feet whispering not the slightest sound against the floor as he entered the kitchen. His eyes immediately fell to the lovely but deadly form of his aunt, Elvindra Mynendil, as her nimble fingers deftly went to work upon some article of cloth.

“Elvindra atara…”

Nimavel greeted with discernible respect, bowing low at the waist and elegantly holding the posture for seconds before straightening. It had been months since Nimavel had last seen his aunt, the dangerous woman who taught him of the tenets of being an assassin and the safeguarded secrets of K’Tesh. It was rumored that her skills in the shadow arts rivaled her husband’s own, and considering the knowledge that she had imparted to her nephew, Nimavel was not so certain that these claims were unfounded.

“I’m sorry that I did give fair warning of my visit.”

He apologized, though his stoic-set visage did not betray his disappointment at his own discourtesy.

“Are you and Uncle doing well?”

[Aesha]

A smile appeared on Elvindra's face as Nimavel greeted her and paid his respects. Naturally, being a member of the Mynendil family she was appreciative of the respectful way her nephew had greeted her. In return she inclined her head for a second or two to acknowledge the gesture. Tinalia, meanwhile, had leant her lean body against the doorframe and was watching the reunion with apparent disinterest.

Perhaps not unexpectedly, Elvindra waved away her nephew's apololgies for the lack of former notice of her visit. While Daltinan etiquette considered this a very large faux pas, Nimavel was a close family member, and indeed, his Daltinan Aunt and Uncle considered the house they were standing in Nimavel's home, whenever he needed it.

"Nonsense. You are always welcome here, you know that."

In the background, Tinalia rolled her eyes at the sentiment. Her mother gave her a pointed look.

"Do you not have things to do, Tinu?"

Nimavel's cousin got the hint fairly fast, and left the room to Elvrinda. The elder female elf gave a faint smile.

"We are well Nimavel, thank you. Your uncle is not home, but he should be back shortly. I am sure he will be pleased to see you. As you can see, little has changed her, other than all of us growing a bit older. How have you been?"

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Ironically, despite the Mynendil family’s knack for shedding blood, they were extremely well-mannered and courteous to one another. Perhaps this civility stemmed from their relying on none others but themselves, but whatever the case, the fact remained that the clandestine clan was accoutered with good manners. Ly’sarion, Nilmalas, Elvindra, and even Nimavel expected no less.

“Thank you, Elvindra atara.”

The younger assassin replied, bowing again if only to renew Tinalia’s scorn. Nimavel did not dislike his cousin, but the pair was related by blood only and not of the stuff that defined characteristic friendships or camaraderie. The girl’s immaturity was not something that Ly’sarion, Nimavel’s father, would have tolerated, and Nimavel was no different. Strength and power were two of the few concepts that he respected, and Tinalia had yet to demonstrate either.

He stood silently as the girl vacated from the kitchen.

“I am sorry that he is not here as I was hoping to speak to the both of you about some important matters.”

He said, though the passiveness in his voice indicated that he was not disappointed by the current arrangement. Nimavel had always felt close to Elvindra, probably because she, in many ways, was the mother that he’d never had. She had taught him the basic tenets of the Mynendil clan and the corresponding techniques along with it; she had taught him what it meant to be an elf.

“Still, age has had no effect upon you, Elvindra atara. You look exactly the same. But I see that Tinalia has matured some since I last saw her, and I’ve no doubt that under your and Uncle Nimlalas’s tutelage that she will continue to grow in both wisdom and knowledge.”

[Aesha]

Elvindra's eyes watched Tinalia as she vacated the room, a stern look in them that was not appearent when they were looking at Nimavel. Once her daughter had fully disappeared from the vicinity, the elder elf turned her attention back to her nephew and frowned slightly, though this time, at her own bad manners.

"Nimavel, forgive me for not offering you a seat. Please, sit down."

She inclined her head at the mention of 'important matters'. If someone in the Nimavel family mentioned the word important, than it truly was, unlike others who would bandy the word about willy-nilly when the problem was, in actuality, that the house was out of bread or some unsubstantiated gossip from the district had caught ears. Possibly Elvindra was curious about what news her nephew had brought with him, but she was patient, and could wait until the appropriate time to hear about it.

She waved off Nimavel's compliments with a hand though it was clear by her face she appreciated them. The matter of Tinalia, however, was something else. The same stern look that had appeared when her daughter left the room appeared in her eyes once more.

"What that girl needs is a husband. She is far too wild. Some domestic bliss will settle her down. She does well in her studies and training yes, but she has no sense of duty and of... what it means to be a Mynendil. At least, not yet." She sighed despondently, but then gave Nimavel a small, slightly sly look. "Of course if you know anyone that may be a suitable match for her, we would of course..."

Her sentence cut off. Nimavel had heard no sound behind him, but suddenly he was greeted by a kiss of cold steel touching his throat.

"Ah, Nimavel. You are out of practice."

It was the voice of his uncle.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Accepting Elvindra’s apology with a nod, the elfin lord moved into the chair at the table. Having traveled all morning, he welcomed the cushion against his saddle-beaten bottom and braced his backside against the seat. Strangely, the pose elicited many memories of the past, particularly one that involved him eating silently at the dinner table brightenings after his mother had died in the Vysstichi invasion.

He still remembered his little cousin sticking her tongue out at him.

“She will learn with experience.”

Nimavel assured, though his aunt was probably conscious of this already. Duty, or rather, murder, had ways of rendering one into maturity no matter their age. The Heru remembered the first time that he’d slain someone in cold blood; his innocent life as he had known it had changed forever.

And yet, despite that grim recollection, Nimavel similarly recalled taking pleasure in that moment, that very instant when he had infiltrated the borders of manhood. Tinalia would undergo an equivalent transformation in time, that is, if she took her training seriously and was not ironically killed by her intended victim. Nevertheless, the suggestion of finding Tinalia a husband elicited a rare trace of a grin from the assassin.

“Sadly I don’t, Elvindra atara.”

At that precise second, Nimavel felt the touch of cold steel against his throat. His eyes widened incredulously at first; this was only the second time that someone had come upon him unwarily. Nevertheless, he noticeably relaxed as the voice of the dagger-wielder pervaded the air with the same mischievousness that the elfin lord recalled. It was one that he knew quite well.

“That or I am too trusting of my family.”

Nimavel corrected, and it was as close a jest that he had ever come up with. If Nilmalas permitted him, the elf lord would rise to his feet and award his father-like relative with the respect rightfully due him.

“Uncle, it is good to see you again. You have not lost a single step.”

[Aesha]

The blade touching the elf's lord's skin disappeared almost as quickly as it had emerged. The was the faintest of leathery sounds as Nimavel's uncle put the weapon back in its rightful place. Now that he had introduced himself to the small gathered party in a way that would have been rather unorthodox in any other family, Nilmalas walked around the chair and greeted his nephew once more, this time with a smile.

"I suppose you make a good point, so I'll let you off. After all, I would not like to think all the practice you put in is beginning to look a little tarnished."

The amusement disappeared from his face as he looked his surrogate son over, and was replaced by a more serious look, though not an unpleasant one. It was in fact, as if a slightly misty look had come into Nimavel's uncle's eyes, looking back on days past.

"And you, Nimavel." Nilmalas's voice was feeled with genuine feeling when he answered his nephews with the three simple words. However, his features lit up in a smile again as Nimavel complimented his skills in the arts that house Mynendil excelled in.

"I should hope not. I practice too much for that."

Overall, Nilmalas had not changed since the last time Nimavel had seem him. He still had the ageless features of the elves, and he had an air of alertness that was the result of years of training in the skills of the assassin. He gestured to Nimavel's seat again, not wanting to keep his nephew standing on his account, and took one himself, though not before gives a nod and smile of acknowledgement to his wife.

"So Nimavel, how have you been since we last parted? And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company this brightening?" As ever, Nilmalas was quite forward in getting to the point, but that did not mean he was any less pleased to see his nephew. Much as Tinalia had gleaned, Nilmalas concluded that people didn't usually go out of their way to call on family unless there was a reason, however trivial or eventful it may be.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Few families greeted one another with the kiss of cold steel, and even fewer families found it complimentary. Returning to his seat as Nilmalas stowed away his dagger, the Heru Mynendil gifted his surrogate father and mother with reverent nods, the same ones that he’d been imparting to them for the past decade of his life. It was as close to a demonstration of physical affection that the nefarious family would ever convey to each other and yet, it meant everything.

“I am doing well. Calairiel sends her regards as she regrets that she could not come out here herself. We are…expecting.”

He said, his alabaster-hued visage wincing uncharacteristically as he implicated his wife’s pregnancy. Neither Nimavel, Nilmalas, nor Elvindra had ever anticipated the brightening of Nimavel’s marriage let alone the birth of his heir, and thus, even though the Heru Mynendil had known of Calairiel’s pregnancy for some time, it continued to astound him.

The assassin’s lavender eyes roamed from Elvindra to Nilmalas shortly, awaiting their reactions. No doubt they would be happy for him, but it was evident from the elf lord’s stern demeanor that he was not as joyful as others would probably have been in his shoes –but then again, the infamous assassin of House Mynendil was rarely known to crack an expression at all.

“But that is not why I have come.”

He quickly said, more so to cushion the shock of his revelation before providing insight on the true purpose of his visit. Leaning forward in his seat and folding his callused hands upon the table, the elf’s violet orbs flickered towards the window before returning to his uncle and aunt. They knew him better than anyone else, and they would no doubt suspect that something important weighed on his conscience.

“As you both know, I’ve been operating in Imperia for some time. The Conclave of Shadows is gaining influence daily. We apprehended and punished the criminals responsible for waylaying Silrosia, but the Combine is convinced that we can spread further. I have been to Nexus Prime and Port Alyxandrya. Already several satellite organizations of the Conclave exist under the guise of the Assassin’s Guild.”

Nimavel purposely paused, allowing his Uncle and Aunt to digest the information and the entailing consequences. The Assassin’s Guild, apparently, was about to be reborn, though more so as a front for the Conclave of Shadows, an organization headed by elven supremacists bent upon restoring the former Syl’rosyan Confederation.

“I want to establish a cell here in Daltina, but to do so I’ll need both of your help…”

[Gossamer]

The pair exchanged looks at Nimavel's news. They'd neither one truly expected the Heru to ever marry, let alone who he had. The Winds of Fate blew oddly through the entire family, that much was certain, and that Nimavel wasn't excluded in the end didn't surprise them.

"Congratulations are in order then. If you need anything, you just need to send word. A birth in our family is a thing to be celebrated." Nimavel's aunt said softly, a slight smile on her face. The rest of the meaning, while not uttered, did not miss Nimavel's attention. No mater who's womb it came from. The pair cared deeply for Nimavel, and were only slowly growing used to his choice of a wife. Rivaling clans were rivals for a reason. But all things changed in time... even the associations of assassins. They only hoped Calairiel and his marriage to her didn't change their nephew too much. Elvindra glanced at her husband and an eyebrow lifted a brief moment as the older man began to speak.

"If that doesn't bring you to Daltina, what does then?" Nilmalas said, always to the point. Nimavel's explanation caused him to nod approvingly. Elvindra smiled as well. It was good news indeed. If Silrosia's loyalists were spreading, then things were indeed looking up for Silrosia.

"Ah. I see what your after now. You want our contacts, and those in our circle and employ? Tell me though, what do you think such sleeper cells under such tight organization benefits over say a few strong clan families acting independently of each other but for the common good? I assume you want to keep this within the Mynendil's, and those loyal... but the others will catch wind." His uncle asked sensibly, and always interweaving a foreshadowing of a warning.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The assassin was more uneasy than his stoic demeanor relayed. His betrothal to Calairiel Gil’dae had not been without objection; House Luviel, the Second Elder Clan of Silrosia, had been very vocal about that. However, their protests had ceased when Nimavel had threatened to sever ties with House Luviel entirely, a threat that he’d been more than willing to follow through on. Since then, though, the Syl’rosyan Combine had grown accustomed to the arrangement, and both House Gil’dae and House Mynendil had steadily garnered the support of multiple, powerful parties.

But the source of the assassin’s anxiety stemmed from the prospect of parenthood. He’d made countless enemies throughout the course of his murderous career –how long would it be until they realized who he was, or more critically, who his immediate family consisted of? Nilmalas, Elvindra, Ly’sarion, and the others were more than capable of handling themselves. They were walking, breathing, and living personifications of death itself.

But the Gil’dae family was not of the stuff of the assassin clan, and they had not asked to enter the perpetual cycle of death that their matriarch’s husband participated in.

Veiling his concerns behind the pretense of indifference that he always wore, Nimavel nodded in acceptance of his aunt’s proposal. She knew more about child-rearing than anyone else in House Mynendil, and even then, her methods with Tinalia would have been considered barbaric and cruel by the outside world. But no child of House Mynendil would ever be weak –not in a million elven lifetimes.

“The Empire is weakening, Uncle. Such can be seen in the cases of Narim and Paxia with the orcs already. This may be our only opportunity to acquire a foothold in the grand scheme of things, to operate from the shadows and manipulate our non-elven subordinates like puppets on strings, and all for the glory of Elfhame.”

The assassin’s head dipped understandingly as he recognized his uncle’s caution for what it was, and thus he continued, slowly and thoughtfully.

“For too long has Silrosia’s influence been curbed by the presence of the Imperial Garrison. Since Imperia’s fall they have lowered their guard, and thus now is the time to make our move. I do not fancy the idea of mingling with non-elves, but the grim reality is that our reach is none too long. We do not have the elven manpower to advocate change at a mass scale, and that is why the Combine has decided that we need to coordinate internationally, to isolate specific goals and target them accordingly and together. And while we control and manipulate the Assassin’s Guilds from the background to promote our agenda, we’ll meanwhile assign menial tasks and seemingly complicated but otherwise meaningless assignments to our subordinates to keep them ignorant.”

"The unfortunate reality is that this land may never fall to elven hands...but if we can control the underworld...we virtually control the Empire."

[Gossamer]

Nilmalas and Elvindra listened closely to their nephew, hearing him out completely before they stopped to question his words. Once he was finished, they nodded, glanced at each other, and finally Nimalas spoke.

"You are wise to look ahead, Nimavel. Always, this is how the House Mynendil excels when so many others falter. Such thinking does our name proud. And its our feelings that you are correct in your assumption that the Empire is in trouble. We've been seeing signs of it for months. Payrolls haven't gotten shipped, recruits are deserting, troops are simply walking away to follow stronger commanders. It's like nothing we've ever seen. So you are right to be cautious, and even with only rumors to feed your imagination. Even these rumors has truths to them. I've seen it with my own two eyes. So has your aunt and sister." He concluded, looking suddenly tired a split instant before his emotions became guarded once more.

Elvindra piped in at this point. "Just what do you need from us, Nimavel? I've five silrosian loyalists and seven open-minded mixed blooded servants who've absolutely not had a thing to do for months. They also have their own operatives as well.... thats probably thirty people right off the top of my head... and thats the top of the top. We can get more, but their skills are suspect. I prefer only the best of the best." She added, leaning a hip back against the sofa that graced the far wall. She watched her nephew, ready for his reaction if any was immediately forthcoming.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The assassin’s raven locks dripped over his shoulders as he nodded, fully appreciative of Nilmalas’s confirming words. His Uncle’s opinion meant more to him than any other person’s, and for Nilmalas to support Nimavel’s claims and decisions meant that the latter was fulfilling his responsibilities as the clan’s leader. It was not enough to the Heru that House Mynendil was growing; it was also the fact that he was being firmly supported by those he respected the most. Such factors told him that he was proceeding appropriately.

“Thirty would be a practical number to start a cell with here in Daltina, Elvindra atara. Our headquarters in Imperia numbers only a handful less and we have encountered much success over there already. To begin with, we will need to establish a base of operations in the city with a facility large enough not only to conduct business, but also to train potential recruits. Once various parties learn of our presence here in Enamoria, I’ve no doubt that we’ll receive our share of contracts.”

Nimavel nodded confidently. Given the aptitude of House Mynendil’s assassins and its respective associates, the Assassin Guild’s reputation would spread like wildfire, and when that happened, it would become a greater matter of discerning which contracts to take as opposed to determining if they were receiving enough in general.

“There is also the matter of going public with the Assassin’s Guild. If possible I would like to hear both of your opinions as I know none wiser on the subject.”

The assassin calmly asked, his lavender eyes flickering from Nilmalas to Elvindra. Despite Nimavel’s misleading reputation as a lone wolf, he was not beyond asking the advice of those who had succeeded before him. And the perspectives that he sought would be essential to shaping the structure of Daltina’s Assassin’s Guild. Operating either publicly or privately entailed many positives and negatives. The difficulty would be in deciding which approach was more worthwhile to pursue.