Trahyrst --- The city of Trahyrst had stood for ages as a beacon of might for the Mengresian household. In its years as the capital of the house, it had housed several kingly lines and seen several momentous changes. It had developed and destroyed power, killed beggar and noble alike, and weathered both siege and storm. Trahyrst was an unconquerable bastion to its owning house, and though it was the only land the Mengresian house could lay claim to, so long as they could declare the city theirs, they remained a force to be reckoned with. It was, by all rights, the "Lord's City." A city so invested in politics, in the game of power, made it the haven of choice for assassins, for thieves, and for corruption. Though Trahyrst was a jewel of the world, it too was not without its heart of darkness... --- Gimladhir Aramor hated carriages. He hated the enclosed feeling they provided, the way they jolted and clattered across every dip or rock upon the road - give him a saddle, a horse, and an open road any day over riding at a snail's pace through Trahyrst. Though he understood the necessity to remain hidden throughout the day when in transition, Gimladhir did not enjoy the process any more because of it. Today would be the day he would step from an initiate of his order to a full member, given the the rights and privileges thereof. He had been training for this moment ever since he could grab and hoist a blade in both hands. He had spent countless hours perfecting his craft. He had spilled blood, sweat, and tears to see himself to this moment and with its arrival so close, he could hardly quiet his anticipation. Time passed slowly as, impatiently, Gimladhir awaited the carriage to come to a halt. When at last it did, he sprang to his feet and didn't bother waiting for the driver to hoist the door open for him. Rushing out in a billowing trail of cloth, Gimladhir made his way into the cathedral the carriage had halted before. Around him, the city continued at its own pace, but for Gimladhir, time froze around the stone monstrosity before him. Trahyrst had always believed that a strong society believed in the gods, regardless of what form those gods might take. Though the cathedral before him was dedicated to Bariel, the goddess of warfare, beneath it rested Bariel's sister goddess. Years prior to Gimladhir's birth, his order of killers and thieves had been forced out of the city as its people grew more and more intolerant of open acceptance of hired murderers. Whereas before, Bariel's cathedral of iron and black stone had once stood beside her sister Erdarwen's own temple of plain, uncut and untreated stone, now there stood but one temple above and one, hidden from the world, beneath. Two servants opened the doors to permit Gimladhir into their cathedral. Striding briskly through the iron-shod doors, Gimladhir made his way left to a statue of Erdarwen allowed to stand in honor of her original place among the pantheon of Trahyrst's deities. He knelt before it, sliding an ornate dagger from his sleeve into the base of the goddess' left foot and turned it once. With a low thud, the wall behind the statue gave way to a dimly-lit passageway. Rising to his feet, Gimladhir entered the passageway and inserted the dagger into another keyhole, shutting the doorway behind him. Ten minutes later, Gimladhir was at the end of the tunnel, entering a spacious chamber lined off with several, smaller sections for those who lived beneath the cathedral permanently. None save his superior and the other initiates were within the chamber. From there, they would be called in pairs, given one last target as their formal selves, and then transcend into full order members of the Order of Erdarwen... Gimladhir couldn't help but smile.