A Maid's Prequel
You should only stir up the kind of trouble you can handle yourself. If you value your life, that is. At the very least, only to the point where you won't end up dead if things go south. Otherwise, you can't even make excuses when your head rolls. Like that deputy getting dragged off by Viscount Raint.
Of course, there were exceptions—like Canaria back in her revenge-fueled days, when she was willing to embrace death to get the job done.
"By the way, Canaria, just how strong are you, exactly?"
"Pardon?"
"You assassinated the Nosferatu Duke, so you must be pretty damn strong... but I've never actually seen your skills in action."
To be precise, I had seen her druid transformation ability. Watching a person turn into a little puppy was pretty damn fascinating. But if we're talking proper assassin skills? That was a bit more ambiguous.
"Hmm. I don't think I'm that strong."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. I was rolling around in the back alleys when the 'guild' picked me up and taught me skills for revenge..."
"Ahh, gotcha. That type."
"Pardon?"
"Nah, it just hits like a familiar cliché."
The classic trope of a scrappy orphan burning with vengeance getting scooped up by an assassin guild. Textbook 'assassin' backstory.
"Looking back now, it wasn't a good place at all. They picked up orphans, shoved a dagger in their hands, and taught them how to kill. It collapsed out of nowhere one day... And since it wasn't lovable in any way, I just thought, 'Good riddance' when it went down."
"Hoo. Intriguing."
The backstory of an 'extra' assassin who doesn't even show her face in the game. As a diehard Endless gamer, this was gold.
"Hmm. Shall I show you?"
"Huh?"
Show me? As in...
"If I recall it, you can read it via telepathy, right, Your Grace?"
"Ah, nice. Project it in the air and we can watch with popcorn?"
"Sandwich for me, please."
"No way—you're bringing it. You insane maid."
"What."
"You're getting way too comfy lately...?"
I shot her an incredulous look, and Canaria brazenly tilted her chin up.
"I'm pretty."
"Imitating the princess now?"
"Pardon? Does the princess act like this?"
"Hmm?"
I paused, tilting my head.
Why'd I even think princess imitation?
"...Dunno. Beats me."
"Who's prettier—the princess, or me?"
"Probably the neighborhood mutt..."
"Then I win."
Indulging in violence isn't the privilege of the wicked. Even a righteous soul stripped of everything by an utter monster can plunge into violence with utter seriousness.
Canaria was a vengeful spirit. But with no way to exact revenge, she simply starved on the streets—so as a child, Canaria was closer to a starving ghost than a proper vengeful one.
"Whoa! Careful not to get bit!"
"Damn it! That mutt stole our food again!"
"Gotta sprinkle some rat poison or something."
"Thing's got a smart head—won't touch poisoned bait."
A lone stray pup snatched a hunk of smoked meat from the market stall and bolted. The butcher gave chase with his cleaver, but keeping up with four legs on two is no easy feat. He eventually gave up and trudged back to his shop.
The pup darted into an alley, dropped the meat on the ground, and shifted into a 'girl.'
"Pfft! Dumb adults."
Childhood Canaria. Living like a street stray, she'd transform into a dog to pilfer food for the day.
The smoky aroma filled the alley. Canaria grinned ear to ear and tore into the meat with gusto.
That was when a stranger's voice came from behind.
"Hmm. Followed that familiar stench and found quite the sight."
"Eek?!"
A woman who appeared like a ghost. Canaria hurriedly shifted back to dog form to flee—but got nabbed by the scruff and dangled in midair.
"A druid, huh?"
"Yelp! Woof! Woof woof!"
Canaria thrashed wildly, barking her throat raw like a rabid mutt. But the woman didn't let go. Instead, she flashed a feral grin and eyed Canaria up and down.
"Fierce temper... venom in those eyes... Train her right, and she'll be useful."
"Whine... grr..."
In that moment, Canaria caught a scent. The fishy reek of blood. The smell of death. Thicker than any butcher's pig offal... human stench.
The mad barking quieted. The woman met her gaze and smirked.
"Little one. Wanna be a hunting hound instead of a stray?"
"Whine."
"I'll feed you all the tasty food you want."
A voice sweet as a witch's temptation. Slowly, Canaria's body reverted to human form. The fur the woman gripped turned to clothes.
Dangling by her collar, Canaria spoke warily.
"For real?"
"Of course. Do your job well, and I'll let you feast on the world's delicacies. Druid talent's rare, after all."
A voice so warm it couldn't get any kinder. But Canaria had already smelled the 'blood' on her. Felt the thick, fishy stench of slaughter stronger than any butcher's.
She knew this woman wasn't some kindly volunteer. Common sense screamed to run.
But...
"...Help me with revenge too."
Canaria was a ghost. Those who've lost everything can become ghosts while still alive. Hungry ghost. Vengeful ghost. Blood ghost.
Death held no terror. Only dying without revenge did.
"Hoo."
The woman lifted her lip in amusement, plopped Canaria on the ground, and stroked her head.
"Little one. Revenge isn't something others do for you. That's why it's sweet—doing it with your own hands."
"...I can't. Too weak."
"No need to worry. I'll make you the ultimate hunting hound that can bite anyone. I'll teach you how to kill people, so you can avenge yourself against whoever tormented you."
A gentle voice, like reading a fairy tale to a cute daughter. The content was chilling, but a ghost's words always sound eerie from the living's view, no matter how mild.
To Canaria, it rang like warm encouragement.
Still guarded, she asked cautiously.
"Even the duke?"
"The duke?"
"Nosferatu Duke..."
Assassin house. Execution house. The empire's vile noble, known by every grim epithet.
That name slipped from Canaria's lips.
If this woman were ordinary, she'd think she'd poked a hornet's nest, kill Canaria, and bolt.
But hearing that noble's name, the woman grinned so wide it threatened to split her face.
"Of course, little one."
"Then I'll do it."
The decision was swift. She'd become a demon if it meant killing Nosferatu.
That resolve and venom burned in her.
"But it'll be tough. Nosferatu Duke's no pushover. You'll have to endure equal effort and pain."
"I know."
The woman phrased it like dissuasion, but the smile tugging her lips betrayed how she was stoking Canaria's thirst for revenge.
"Even if you succeed, you'll die for sure. Want a long life? Then no revenge."
"Not scared of dying. Scared of dying without revenge."
And this was exactly what Canaria craved. Their breaths synced like harmony.
"Even if you survive, Nosferatu's heir will come for payback. Revenge begets revenge. Got what it takes to bear that chain? Won't feel unjust if you die then? Got the guts to shove your suffering on someone else?"
Revenge begets revenge. One who seeks it must humbly accept retaliation.
'Gave back what I got' won't fly. The other side feels the same.
"That's not really what's unjust."
And though a vengeful ghost, Canaria wasn't evil.
"Someone took everything from me, and I can't revenge because I'm powerless. That's what's truly unjust."
She understood her revenge was violence to someone else.
Yet she chose it.
"If someone wants revenge on me, I won't go down easy—but not 'cause it's unjust."
If true sorrow is failing to protect loved ones... true injustice is failing to avenge their killer.
Canaria knew that all too well.
"My revenge will make others sad."
"You're a bad kid."
"So I gotta bear their revenge. It's the punishment I deserve."
"And our guild's for bad people. Perfect. You're one of us now."
Thus, Canaria became a rookie in the 'assassin guild.'
"So, what do I do?"
"Well, first..."
Gazing at the trembling Canaria—equal parts eager anticipation and unease—the woman spoke playfully.
"Let's start with a bath."
"Ah."