Tormented Soul

The sky was a crystal clear blue, with only a single white fluffy cloud in the distance. The sun shone down across the grassy plains of the Barrens, making it what some would call the 'perfect day'. Beckyann sat in the grass, looking out over the scenic view of the endless plains stretching off into the distance. Scourge-blue eyes took in the beautiful scene, studying the way the land folded and seemed to stretch with each rise and fall, the way the animals roamed in herds across the landscape, and the way the sun painted the colors of the different grasses in stark relief.

She felt nothing.

That wasn't entirely true of course, there was a vague sense of satisfaction, of being full that one might get after enjoying a good meal. She shifted in place, the sunlight glinting off her dull black armor that had skeletal bones outlined on it in silver relief. The form fitting armor was covered with such markings, making it look like she was encased in a skeleton and the accessories to the set were inscribed with skulls, additional bones, and various symbols of death; the perfect outfit for a Knight as far as she was concerned.

Behind her, a thin trail of smoke worked its way up into the blue sky, the pop and crackle of flames as they consumed the burning Kor'kron supply wagon and the many corpses strewn about it fighting against the sound of the wind blowing over the grasses. Behind Beckyann her deathcharger moved lazily across the battle site, edging closer to her. She could sense where it was at all times, and knew that it would soon attempt to bite her when it thought she wasn't looking. Somehow, sitting there with only her thoughts, she couldn't even work up the energy to get up and brutally beat the creature to put down such rebelliousness at the moment.

Something was bothering her, stirring deep in the back of her mind. She'd been trying to fight it off for so long, but the conversation with the spirit the other day had set her thoughts down a one way track. Over and over again she brooded on how she was feeling, on what the revelations the spirit had given her told her about herself.

I actually cared. I still do care, don't I? I looked at him like he was my father, even though we'd never met before we joined each other in undeath. I look at the others as my family I think. I've called them brothers and sisters before, but I didn't realize how deeply it went.

Emotions were the bane of her existence. Positive feelings burned her as if she were Light-touched, and to feel them sitting in the center of her chest like a mass of writhing blood worms set her on edge. And yet, deep within, she could feel it bubbling up, despite her best efforts to clamp down on it. As if she were regurgitating something unpleasant, it rose and burst in her mind, and suddenly she felt something strange. Tears ran down her cheeks in two dirty little trails, the black, diseased fluid staining her face. She reached out with a gauntlet, touching them and look at the wet metal on her fingertips with awe. She was crying.

It hurt very much to feel like that, to feel love and the bond of family. It burned and yet it was also enlightening and empowering. For months she'd brooded, building up anger and resentment inside that she couldn't place or properly release. As she was a creature designed to deal in death and pain, it was incredibly difficult to sort out delicate feelings inside and release them in a constructive manner. She'd been bottling it up for so long and now it was finally bursting out of her like a river. She began to sob, the sound a mournful wail on the wind.

I'm so sorry I couldn't stop them. I'm so sorry I blamed you for leaving me when it was my fault for failing you. I'm so sorry I left and didn't tell you why, didn't tell the others why.

As the emotion built up, the natural reaction of her twisted undead form was to convert them into anger and rage, to bottle them back up so that she could continue to be the perfect killing machine she'd been designed to be. She viciously clamped down on it though, wrestling with her anger in an effort to experience the pain of feeling that she'd denied herself for so long, that had been taken from her when she was raised. And then a simple thought slipped into her mind, allowing her to divert all of her focus into one spot.

When my parents died, I was angry. Angry at myself for how I'd acted before their deaths, for the things I said and the things I could never say. When Red died, I was mad at him for leaving me, but also at myself because I didn't do enough to save him, because I'd failed him. And yet, it wasn't my fault. It wasn't his fault.

It was THEIR fault. The living. The humans that struck him down. Those gods-damned scarlet pieces of filth. The Light-worshiping bastards that thought they could pass judgement on us.

Around Beckyann, necromantic energies began to seep into the air. They floated on the wind, twisting around her with eerie green and purple flickering light. Behind her, her deathcharger backed away slowly, deciding to feast on the flesh of the dead orcs in the grasses rather than bite its Mistress. The grass around Beckyann began to blacken and curl up as the ground was desecrated by her seething anger and energies.

She rose, her eyes flat and her face emotionless now, seething magic flowing out of her, wrapping her in darkness as her runeblade flared to life. She drew it from where it had been planted in the soil, watching the twisted spirits trapped in it as they contorted around the blade, nothing but pounding, unending hatred in her mind.

It will never happen again. Never. Again. I will see them all dead before I let them take any of my brothers and sisters from me. I will see to it that Red never has to suffer as he did again. The living will all die by my hand if need be, if that is what it takes to see that it is done. How long have we suffered for? How long must we pay for what we did? If it is my lot to suffer penance for what happened to us, then so be it, but I will NOT be alone again. They will NOT take from me again. 

As the thoughts solidified and anger and rage pounded through her as they were meant to do, her inner thoughts were interrupted by the impact of an arrow striking her armor. The arrowhead plunged through her breastplate, lodging in her chest cavity. She stared down at it for a moment, scourge magic almost flowing from her blazing eyes. She looked up to see three Kor'kron wolfriders nearby, eyeing her warily.

When the woman didn't fall dead they began to shift in their saddles, looking at one another nervously. Unfortunately they had chosen the absolute worst possible time to interrupt Beckyann's thoughts, as one of them learned almost immediately when a tendril of death magic reached out and plucked him from his saddle.

As his death howl echoed across the landscape, the other two wolfriders turned and spurred their mounts, retreating quickly. Behind them, an enraged Beckyann Eastberg stalked after them, her hateful glare boring into their backs as they fled across the plains.

Coming to terms with her emotions had been a difficult and painful process, one that required that she attend to her other needs. Fortunately, it appeared that there would be many volunteers to assist her with that. She grinned as she walked after the fleeing orcs, seeing another Kor'kron supply wagon in the distance. 

The Cold Trail

Rosellina sighed, pushing a pile of paperwork aside on her desk and reaching over to her 'in' bin to process some more shipment manifests. She'd spent most of the morning catching up with her duties at Blackleaf in an attempt to keep her cover story solid. Faleseth had not really intruded on her operations so far, and as long as Rosellina continued to produce an adequate amount of work she suspected the reclusive Highborne witch would leave her to her work.

Just as she had completed another form and was ready to dig into the pile again, a shadow fell over her desk. She looked up to see a man standing there, a sealed folder in hand. He flashed an intricate hand signal that only an SI:7 operative would know, and Rosellina nodded at him and gave him the reply signal. He placed the folder on her desk and walked out of the Blackleaf offices, not saying a word.

Rosellina smiled, taking the folder and tearing open the seal. She pushed her work to the side for a moment, leaning back in her chair as she pulled the documents she'd requested out. After returning to Stormwind via a portal, she had decided to approach her assignment from a different angle. Braeth'el had the weapons and the information she needed, and running across the desert sands in a random direction was not the way to find him. It had also allowed her to spend some time in the city furthering the development of her network of contacts while she awaited the information she'd requested.

There were two files in the folder, the first sealed with a black 'confidential' label and the second a less critical file that had no seal and no classification codes. Rosellina took the sealed document up first, tearing the seal and quickly beginning to page through the file. She slipped her sandals off and put her feet up on the desk in front of her, as if perusing a fashion magazine or paper. Anyone looking in would have thought nothing of it other than perhaps that the Blackleaf offices had some lazy clerks working for them.

The file was on Braeth'el, or as close to being about Braeth'el as an intelligence file could be. He was an unknown, his record and his duties concealed in myriad layers of secret documents and of course the divide between Horde and Alliance. Despite this, it was possible to piece together a few clues about the elf, or at least about his intelligence network, and Rosellina had requested that SI:7's archives provide her with a summary report.

To say it was sparse was an understatement. Here there was a report of a Quel'dorei turning out to be a Sin'dorei and making off with blueprints for an airship. There was a report of a campaign commander's map being exchanged with a false one during the Northrend Campaign, redirecting an entire Alliance company into a impassible canyon and oncoming blizzard. The other reports were of similar sabotage, thefts, or information leaks that were suspected of being applicable to the particular spy that Rosellina was interested in. None of them were concrete of course, but wherever the alleged spy was spotted he had matched the meticulous description that Rosellina had provided of the blood elf.

She blushed for a moment as she thought about how easily she could recall his features. He certainly had made an impression, even if he was an enemy. It was a dangerous game to interact with enemy agents in such a fashion and Rosellina knew that she walked a thin line. A false move would result in her letting down her guard as she had at the bandit camp, resulting in disaster.

The thought of the bandit camp made Rosellina sigh and shake her head in disgust. She set the report down, rubbing her temples as she recalled the revelations of the past few days. Her father was a bandit. He was nothing more than a murderous desert raider and likely in collusion with pirates. What he did with his life didn't matter all that much to Rosellina since she had grown up with her own moral code, but what he had done to her mother was a mystery that she wished to solve. It nagged at her mind even as she tried to sort through the case in front of her.

"That is one investigation that will have to wait," she murmured. She had to work on the weapons first, and private research when she was free to do so. Duty demanded it, and it would take a long time to piece together the past anyway.

She reached for the second folder, putting the Braeth'el file aside for a moment. This one had been easily obtained and contained reports not only from SI:7, but from other Alliance organizations and even the military. It was a complete, detailed history about the actions of the Sin'dorei noble house of Sunfire, formerly known as House Dayfire. Rosellina's eyes widened as she studied the information in the file, noting the lengthy history of the two co-rulers of the House and the endless war they seemed to wage against...well...everyone. A constant threat to the Alliance, the two sisters had apparently engaged in many battles across both continents before disaster struck them and left them fighting politically and sometimes physically with other houses in Quel'Thalas. To say that the two were a major threat to Alliance security was an understatement.

"Your mistresses are not the nicest of people Braeth'el," Rosellina murmured as she flipped through page after page of detailed reports about the two Sin'dorei. "I would say that SI:7 can be the same at times, but not like...this. How do you sleep at night my rival? At least when I am done with my duty, I know I've done the right thing and that my blade is only drawn in the most dire of circumstances."

As Rosellina neared the end of the report, she discovered some rather interesting facts about the Sunfire sisters. Although the two were aggressive and violent, they had been known to negotiate with Alliance forces before. This meant that at some point Braeth'el had been in contact with human agents, which is likely why he was able to speak Common so fluently; his handlers ensured that he had the skills needed to deal with his contacts, making him perfect for hunting down the origin of the weapons.

More telling though was the fact that House Sunfire currently was conducting raids on the Kor'kron in the Barrens, and that they had sent a ship up to Ratchet where men and equipment were disgorged. They'd created a war camp in the region to help launch their assaults with more strength. Weapons and armor bearing their emblems had been spotted in engagements in several locations. It seemed that the Sunfire sisters had become distressed with the direction their Warchief was heading and, typical to their nature from what Rosellina could see in the reports, they had decided to protest his leadership in the only way they knew how, with extreme violence.

Braeth'el would be heading towards that camp if he wanted to reconnect with House Sunfire forces and return to Quel'Thalas. Although he had the jump on her, he still had to proceed across Thousand Needles and then the Southern Barrens and its warzones before he could reach the camp. Rosellina was in Stormwind, but a portal could fix that relatively quickly, and she might just beat him there.

She smiled as she took the two top secret reports and placed them in the hearth, lighting them on fire. She had just the way to beat her sneaky adversary to his destination. He might have the full power of a blood elf noble house behind him, but SI:7 had resources and technology that he didn't know about. She knew just the thing to get there faster than him.

Her smile faded as she reached into her desk for her anti-nausea herbs. She was going to need them for what she planned next. 

A Desert Rose

Night had fallen over the sands of Tanaris, the temperature dropping off abruptly. Travelers in the desert wastes typically would take shelter at this time, either in tents or in cave openings that dotted the rocky outcroppings throughout the region. Some even ventured further into the cavernous tunnels beneath the sands, although many did not return from such adventures.

Rosellina herself had entered one of the shallow caverns as night had fallen, following the tracks of the Waste Wanderer bandits that had taken their prisoners away from the wreckage of the pillaged camp. Over dune and through blowing sandstorms she had tracked them, the trail tenuous in some places and clear in others. At the end of their travels, the bandits had entered a narrow cave mouth, setting sentries and lighting torches to illuminate its depths. Rosellina came to the conclusion that the bandits were using the caves as a base of operations as they raided across the deserts and did business with the local pirates that landed amongst the coves of the Tanaris shoreline.

Infiltrating the caverns had been child's play; the bandits were not very alert after their successful raid and their sentries had been drinking. She'd slipped past them in the night without even having to try very hard, making her way deeper within the snaking tunnels and keeping herself concealed whenever the occasional raider passed by. Along the way she noted that the bandits had a large supply of stores, weapons, and other pilfered goods stored in side caverns and along the walls of the tunnels.

After a time Rosellina found herself slipping into a wider chamber deep within the bandits' hideout, her eyes taking in the sight of the prisoners she'd been seeking. They were manacled to the walls, their arms held high above their heads by the chains, forcing their backs and shoulders into uncomfortable positions. Rosellina felt pity for them as soon as she saw them, hurrying into the room and checking for guards. It was clear for the time being and she quickly looked the prisoners over, ignoring the soft cries for help that many of them uttered.

“Y-you actually came after me...?” the voice said with some degree of shock. Rosellina turned her head to see Braeth'el hanging from one of the walls, his face bruised and his lips puffy from the beating he'd received and lack of water. “You really are n-new to the business aren't you? S-should have cut your losses Rose...”

Rosellina rolled her eyes, walking over to him and checking him for serious injuries. Satisfied that he was unwounded, she stepped closer, her voice a whisper, “I need you and you know it. You know who the buyer was. I have to get you out of here so we can figure this out. I've got the weapons.”

He nodded, appraising her with his eyes before replying, “Well, I'm glad you've managed to keep working on the case while I've been hanging around...”

Rosellina smirked, stepping still closer and reaching up to examine the manacles. They were locked but a few tools in her belt pouch would handle that. They were up high over her head though and picking them would be difficult. She took out her tools, pressing herself against Braeth'el as she reached up to begin working, her face inches from his. She began the process, pick manipulating the tumblers before she realized that she felt uncomfortable, she looked down to see Braeth'el staring into her eyes.

To her everlasting surprise, the blood elf leaned forward and kissed her. She found herself at a loss both for words and for breath, the kiss immediately making her flush. His lips tasted salty and had a copper tang of blood on them, and for a moment she just leaned against him, her eyes slipping closed.

Around them the other prisoners began to complain, whispered murmurs of “Are you serious?” “Get a room!” and “Is this really the right time for that...?” rising into the air. Rosellina broke off the kiss, flushing bright red as she reached up to work on the lock again.

“Just in case we don't make it,” Braeth'el said. “In this business, you learn to take those moments of enjoyment that you can, while you can.”

Rosellina huffed, still working at the lock, trying to fight back a smile as she whispered back, “We're going to make it. It'll just be one more minu-”

“And what do we have here?!” a voice shouted. Rosellina's head snapped around and her eyes widened. Four men had entered the room, three of them obviously some sort of honor guards and the fourth the leader of the bandits. She could tell by the golden ornamentation that decorated his leather armor, wrists, and fingers. But that was not why she stared in abject shock at the man, or why she found herself frozen in place.

He looked exactly like Rosellina.

It wasn't just a faint resemblance like the other bandits had, the man had the same features, the same soft curve to his eyes, the same resolute expression that Rosellina herself often wore. If there was any doubt that her heritage was from this region, that doubt had been dashed away in an instant. Numbly Rosellina pressed the lock picking tools into Braeth'el's hands, praying he'd be able to finish the work and free himself while she confronted the threat. The other prisoners moaned in terror as she stepped into the center of the room.

The resemblance between the bandit lord and Rosellina was not lost on the man. He stared at her, his glare boring into her, “So..it seems that you live, despite the efforts of my men. To think that a daughter of Karag has been alive and wandering the world all this time; it is enough to make me laugh.”

Rosellina felt like she'd been slapped. She eyed the man warily, studying his features and then looking over his honor guards. She didn't like what she saw; the men were obviously well trained and prepared for violence at any given moment. Despite this, she also felt a burning need to know. “Y-you...you are my father...?”

Bandit Lord Karag laughed, the sound echoing in the chambers, “I would think so. Long ago a daughter was lost to me, spirited away by her bitch of a mother. Although she paid for this with her life, it is clear that the child has lived on and returns to us. Isn't that so...Rose? It is easy enough to remember what she called you, naming you after the flowers that bloom here.”

Rosellina felt a chill run down her spine as he said her name. She shook her head, trying to deny it but there was no way other explanation. She had finally discovered where she was from in the most horrible way possible. “That is my name, and your words likely ring true. I have come for these prisoners, and this elf particularly.”

The bandit lord laughed again, shaking his head, “You will have nothing! Did you think that being my daughter would get you special privileges? That I would be overjoyed to see you? Your mother was harem trash, and there are dozens more like you in this camp. You are a nothing, and you will do as you are told. These prisoners are our claim in battle, and will be sold soon enough. Step away from them and surrender your weapons. You will rejoin our camp and take the place you were meant to have when you were born before your mother disobeyed me.”

Rosellina shook her head, her voice firm, “No.”

Karag glared at her, fury blazing in his eyes, “You dare to defy me? You are just like your mother, and you will suffer the same fate, bleeding out on the sands that have been our home. You will drop your weapons and surrender now, or your suffering will last for days.”

Rosellina drew her swords, pointing one at the man she now knew was her father, “There is only one man who commands me. His name is King Varian Wrynn. Until the moment that I draw my last breath my blade will strike as he wills it. In the name of the King and the Alliance, I order you to withdraw or Light help you, I will cut you down where you stand, father or not.”

Karag's eyes widened in shock and he roughly gestured, his honor guards advancing on Rosellina as a group. She took a deep breath and waited for them to get close enough before bursting into action.

To say that the bandits were surprised by her ferocious attack would be an understatement. The first man to attack her had his sword cut from his hands with an expert parry, even as the next man received a shallow, but poisoned cut across his arm, blood pouring from the wound that wouldn't clot. Rosellina deftly dodged out of the way of a cut from the third man, kicking sand into his eyes and blinding him. He stumbled away from her, furiously rubbing at his face as he tried to clear his vision.

The man Rosellina had cut ran at her again, and she parried his blow and then gouged open his chest with the tip of her sword, sending him reeling back and dazing him. The man she had disarmed attempted to bend down to retrieve his weapon and got a boot to the face for his troubles, his body tumbling back into the sand behind him.

Karag roared as his men were defeated, not even waiting for them to get out of the way as he drew a wicked two handed sword and charged Rosellina. He brought the weapon up and then slashed it down at her, arms rippling with strength, “Die daughter. Join your mother in death!”

Rosellina managed to block the blow by catching it in the 'X' of her crossed swords. Unfortunately Karag was far stronger than her, his blow shattering one of her rapiers and forcing her feet back in the sand. Partially disarmed, Rosellina flicked her wrist and engaged a gnomish device in her bracer, blades flicking out. She punched her fist into her father's shoulder, the blades tearing into his half-pauldron and leaving three bloody holes there. He howled, swinging his sword around and attempting to decapitate Rosellina, forcing her to drop to the sand to avoid the blow.

With a grin on his face he loomed over her, sword coming up as he prepared to deliver the death blow, his words echoing in the room, “It is a shame. You honor our line with your skill in battle, but your disobedience means I must end you. Die daughter, by the one that created you.”

His blow never came. Even as he went to bring the sword up, a rather solid metal cudgel struck him in the back of the skull and laid him out cold on the sandy floor of the room. Braeth'el stood behind him, a smirk on his face and the manacles on the walls behind him hanging empty. He looked at Rosellina and nodded, “I figured you didn't want me to kill daddy out of hand. Perhaps he'll learn a valuable lesson about being a proper role model after he wakes up.”

Rosellina merely nodded, breathing hard and shaking from what she'd just been through both emotionally and physically. Braeth'el held a hand out to her, and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Without a word he turned to leave and she paused, “What about the other prisoners...?”

“Leave them. We don't have time. The fighting was heard throughout the caverns,” came the curt reply as the blood elf walked out of the room.

She knew he was right, but it didn't sit well with her. She walked over to her father's unconscious form, searching him quickly and taking the keys for the manacles from his belt. She pressed it into the hands of one of the prisoners, at least giving them the chance to free themselves before she turned and hurried after the blood elf.

Minutes later the two had made their way through the caverns, using stealth and guile to avoid detection by the guards. Without further conflict they managed to win their freedom, walking out onto the moonlit sands of Tanaris together, with Rosellina leading Braeth'el away.

She opened her mouth to say something to the elf when suddenly she felt the metal cudgel he had picked up collide with the back of her head. She saw stars for a moment before blackness rose to claim her.

****************************************

Rosellina woke up with a stinging headache, her body leaning casually against a palm tree at a deserted oasis in the middle of Tanaris. She blinked, rubbing her aching skull as she took in her surroundings. She'd been placed carefully so as to avoid having the sun beat down on her while she was unconscious, and judging by the light it seemed she must have been out for a few hours.

Beneath her was a blanket to keep her comfortable from the heated sand, and a water-skin lay beside her, taken from the sparkling blue waters of the oasis. Rosellina groaned, still rubbing her head and taking a drink before noticing a note beneath the water skin. It was written in elegant script, the message clean and concise.

Rose,

Terribly sorry, but my mission must come first. The next stage will bring the weapons (which I've taken) to Quel'Thalas and beyond. Places where you cannot tread. Rest assured that this will be resolved to both of our satisfactions.

I hope you like the oasis. It is a good place to recover after a difficult adventure. I have left you there both for appreciation for my rescue as well as because of the fact that it seemed most fitting for a beautiful desert rose. I will remember you fondly.

With warmth,

Braeth'el

Spymaster of House Sunfire

Rosellina's eyes widened as she read the letter, her emotions ranging from outrage to amusement to a flush of embarrassment at the end. She shook her head, taking the note and dousing it with water until the ink ran; she couldn't have evidence of her working with a Sin'dorei spy after all. It could put both of them at risk.

She sighed, shaking her head. Braeth'el didn't understand how SI:7 worked. It was not enough that she knew he would continue with their objective; she had to have evidence herself that it was complete and report on the identity of the buyer. She wasn't out of the game yet, just a step behind once again.

“Really, next time I AM going to get one step ahead of you Braeth'el,” she murmured, rubbing the back of her head again.

She sighed, rising and walking towards the sparkling water of the oasis. She'd had enough emotional and physical trauma for one day. It was time to recover and plan her next steps. She resolutely decided not to think about the man that had fathered her, and what had become of her mother; those were things for another day, something to investigate when duty didn't call her.

Rosellina Cooke wouldn't stop until she saw the mission through to the end.

Mourning

The night was filled with odd calls and the sounds of unnatural creatures wandering through the darkness. This close to Corin's Crossing it was not uncommon to hear the restless dead as they roamed the ruins of the town they once called home or haunted the twisted forests in the area. Beckyann paid them no heed as she made her way through the blackness, her familiarity with the town ingrained in her memory forever.

A lake lay near the town, the darkness glittering with reflected moonlight. Close to its shore a small cemetery stood, one of the few that had not been desecrated by the Cult of the Damned as they looted the destroyed town during their invasion. It was to the few standing markers that Beckyann headed, her plate armor cracking dead wood beneath her tread as she approached.

The little cemetery was quiet, with none of uneasy spirits that the town itself had. Whether this was by chance or because of the work of the nearby Argent Crusaders who now regularly sent young adventurers to the outskirts of the town to clear it Beckyann could not say. The fact that her former home had become a location where adventures cut their teeth in training brought a smirk to her black lips as she plopped herself down on one of the headstones, staring at the other few around her.

She didn't know any of those who were buried in this particular plot; they had passed after she'd left the town or were buried long after the Scourge invasion. Even so, she studied the etchings on the stones, looking for familiar names and generally brooding, soaking in the quiet darkness of the night.

“You look troubled child,” a soft voice said to her. In a funk already, Beckyann didn't bother to turn to look at the old man that had spoken, catching a hint of shifting robes out of the corner of her eye.

“Just leave me alone,” she said, her voice flat.

She could hear the sound of cloth stirring behind her as the old man went about whatever business brought him to the edge of a haunted town in the middle of the night. When he replied, his tone was still pleasant, “It is my duty to tend to the dead here, to look after the wayward spirits and ensure that those who have not risen at least rest peacefully. Although not my usual role, I can bring peace to the living as well, should they need to speak of things that trouble them.”

“You're talking to the wrong girl,” Beckyann snapped. She felt waspish and angry as she idly dug her boot into the soil, watching little plague worms scurry about after they'd been unearthed. “Just leave me be.”

“And yet you don't sound as if you need to be left here to brood alone in the dark,” the kindly old man said again. “Perhaps the Light guided me here to speak with you this evening, perhaps ridding yourself of the burden would make it easier to understand what troubles you. This is just my opinion of course; I have been known to be wrong before.”

Beckyann rolled her lich-blue eyes, sighing and shaking her head, “No one understands. I don't see why a complete stranger would.” She fiddled with the emblem of the 1113^th that was pinned to her cloak, contemplating the comm system and the voices she'd heard on it recently.

“Try me,” the man said behind her. She could hear him settling into place nearby and realized he wasn't going to go away. Suddenly, something inside her broke, and she found herself wanting to pour out the anger she kept inside.

She opened her mouth, letting the words flow out naturally and trying to come to terms with the feelings, “I recently experienced a loss.”

She her the old man sigh and his reply was typical, “I am sorry to hear of that. Was it someone close to you?”

“It...was my father,” Beckyann lied, unidentifiable emotions building in her. “He was my support. He steadied me and kept me on the path I've chosen to try walking, and then he was just gone. Gone forever, burned away in an instant and he left me alone. Do you understand? He left me to face everything alone just when I was getting used to the idea that I didn't have to be. When I needed him most he fell and taught me again that I will always be alone.”

The old man was silent for a moment, as if thinking about what she'd said. His reply was slow, and still kindly, “It can be hard, to lose someone you love. And yet that is part of life, part of being alive. We will always face losses and hardships, but by choosing to remain on course despite this, we show strength. Do you understand?”

Beckyann grunted, still digging at the soil. After a time she nodded, resignation in her voice, “H-he came back. After I'd thought him gone. I mourned him, and I don't like to feel that way, and then he came back like it didn't happen. I don't know if I can trust anyone again, if I can let them in like that. I don't want to feel like that ever again and he made me feel that way Light damn him.”

“And so now you are angry, but you don't wish to be angry because you actually did miss his presence,” the old man said, confirming what Beckyann had suspected of her own feelings on the matter. “It is alright to be angry, but don't use it as a scourge to wound yourself, or him. Forgiving is part of being alive as well. Forgiving and letting go of the bad so that you can have more of the good. If he is truly back now, then let go of the remaining anger and simply enjoy what you can have. Rebuild the relationship.”

Beckyann scrunched up her nose and sighed again more loudly. Forgiveness and letting go of anger were barely concepts that made up her vocabulary. What she was thrived on anger, on rage and pain and hatred. Not allowing herself to direct that at another person was an incredibly difficult task, especially since the only other person she could direct it at was herself for allowing the anger to take hold. What had Red said...? It wasn't anyone's fault, not his, not hers.

“Fine fine, I understand what you're saying, it's just hard to do,” Beckyann finally muttered. “I tried to hide from him, tried not to let him know that it hurt to lose someone that is actually a friend. Am I allowed to have friends? I asked myself this a thousand times now. Maybe I am, but it hurts too.”

The old man chuckled, the sound kind as he agreed, “Everything can hurt at times. Sometimes though, friendship is the light in the darkness. Remember that as you sort through how you feel.”

Beckyann smiled, nodding at the sentiment. She turned her head to look at the man, to thank him for talking to her about it.

No one was there. The man had simply ceased to be.

“Fel...I'm talking to spirits now,” Beckyann murmured, looking around the cemetery warily. She could feel the presence of the undead around her, in the distant woods and in the nearby town, but her immediate environment was clean and pure. In fact, there was the faintest tickle of Light nearby, just enough to make her shiver.

“Forget this...” Beckyann grouched, rising and walking into the dark night. As she mounted her death charger, she looked back at the peaceful little cemetery in the midst of the haunted lands and she found herself feeling a little better. Maybe she could find a way to sort through her feelings after all. With that she snapped the reins, the undead steed trotting off towards Acherus.

In the dimness behind her, Light glimmered as the spirit of a long dead priest smiled before fading into his final rest. It had been his duty to put wayward spirits at ease after all, and if the departing death knight was not a wayward spirit, he as a spirit himself didn't know what was.

Shifting Fates

Rosellina crouched down in the sand, the heat radiating off the surface making her wince a bit as she placed her hands on the ground in front of her, peering over the dune. It had only taken her a few tries to find some goblins in Gadgetzan whose tongues could be loosened enough with coin to find out what she needed to know. It seemed that a goblin speedbarge had indeed made a landing near Gadgetzan recently; recently enough that it could have been the very same vessel that House Falconoak's crew had delivered their cargo of weapons to.

With this clue discovered, Rosellina had been able to bribe and tease out enough information to determine that the goblins who had offloaded the weapons had then been met by Sin'dorei backers here in town, and that the group had set off into the desert, presumably to take them through some mountain pass and into Thousand Needles where another means of transportation would cross the water there into the Barrens. The odd thing about the information that Rosellina had gleaned was that the goblins that had went with the Sin'dorei buyers had not returned to Gadgetzan yet, and they were several days overdue now.

As Rosellina peered over the dunes, she discovered the reason for that. In the sands below her sat a camp, the tents that it was composed of a mixture of elegant red and gold Sin'dorei constructs and rough assemblies of sticks, cloth, and machinery that made up goblin shelters. In the middle of the camp sat a number of wagons, several of which were damaged by what appeared to be fire and a few suffering broken wheels and axles. The camp seemed to contain a few Sin'dorei who were well armed and on patrol, as well as a few goblin bruisers and what appeared to be wounded laying on cots within some of the tents or simply on the ground. Clearly the camp had come under attack recently.

Rosellina mentally began to count the guards, determining how she could sneak into the camp. After firming up a plan in her mind, she took a deep breath to steady herself, preparing to rise from her position on the dune and head down to investigate the weapons in secret. Just as she was about to rise, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and pushed her back into place, a voice whispering in her ear.

"You are more clever than I thought," Braeth'el said, crouching down beside her.

Rosellina blinked in surprise, shocked that the lithe elf had managed to approach her without being detected. After she took a moment to regain her composure she shook her head, keeping her voice low, "I told you, I knew who the supplier was. I knew when the shipment arrived in Gadgetzan. It's not too hard to figure out from there."

The blood elf nodded, his black hood keeping the worst of the sunlight out of his eyes as he peered down into the camp, "Well done. The question now is, what were you thinking about doing next?"

Rosellina didn't answer at first, taking time to study the elf and judging whether or not she could trust him. In the daylight she was able to get a better look at him. His body was lean and fit, the black leather armor he wore conforming to the curves of his muscles in a way that was not entirely unpleasing to her eyes. The outfit was complete with the black hood, a black mask that he had pulled down for the time being, and black cloak that she suspected had some defensive properties given the thickness and apparent stiffness of the material. The elf was also festooned with daggers, with blades visible at his hip, at the tops of the leather boots that rode up to his mid-calf, and even strapped to his arms at his biceps. Several pouches at his belt hinted at additional equipment and Rosellina quickly decided that he was indeed a professional spy and likely a well trusted one to be so well equipped.

"I'm going to sneak down there and obtain at least one of the weapons," she finally replied. "I decided to go with what you suggested, and check the markings against weapons we already have identified as being owned by the supplier. I'll shadow the caravan once they move out again until I can locate the buyers."

The elf nodded, looking at her and smiling. His face was pleasant, with the fel-green glow of his eyes only partially visible in the pounding sunlight of the desert. Short cropped, spiked blonde hair stuck up from his head and partially framed his face. Rosellina found herself returning his smile as he spoke, "That would be a good idea, except for the fact that the caravan is about to come under attack. Look."

He pointed and she turned her gaze away from him and down to the camp below. She could tell something was wrong as the guards on patrol began to shout, drawing weapons and rousing the rest of the camp. On the dunes opposite where the two spies watched, dust began to billow up as a line of horsemen appeared. Rosellina gasped as she saw them, recognizing the humans who wandered the desert of Tanaris immediately and finally coming to understand why the guards at Gadgetzan had challenged her.

She could have been one of them. Each of them wore a mixture of studded leather and chain armor, their weapons crude sabers, nets, and spears. Many sported the dark colored hair that Rosellina herself had, and a few even carried jewelry in gold that eerily reminded her of her dream from the previous night. She watched as they formed a line and plunged down the side of a dune, their warcries rising into the air as they began their raid on the camp.

"We can't go down there like this," Braeth'el said beside her. Rosellina turned to look at him, her eyes questioning the statement. "It's simple. If we go into the middle of a battle involving raiders from the desert and Sin'dorei, we will be confused for combatants. They'll think I am part of the camp, and no offense to you, think you are one of the raiders."

Rosellina nodded as she came to understand his concern. She thought about it for a moment before responding, "We could try to use stealth to get as close to the wagons as possible. We only need to gather a few of the weapons right? If we can compare the marks to the ones I have we'd be able to confirm it's my supplier, and if we can compare them to the ones you have we can confirm it's the buyer you suspect. That'll give us everything we need."

He studied her, nodding slowly, "If they see us, we'll be cut down. We need to be fast and silent. Do you think you can handle it?"

Rosellina grinned, "I'd say so. The question is if YOU can handle it hmm?"

The blood elf grunted, reaching down to a belt pouch to pull out a small sphere. He held it up before Rosellina and spoke softly, "This is top of the line, top secret goblin technology. It'll allow me to create a smoke barrier that-"

Rosellina grinned again, holding up a hand to halt him in mid-sentence. She produced a similar looking orb from one of her own pouches, "Top of the line GNOMISH technology. Does the same thing."

The blood elf laughed, the sound muffled by the echoes of combat coming over the dunes. He winked at Rosellina and joked, "If we bump these two orbs together we might literally destroy the continent I suspect."

Rosellina laughed as well, surprised that she and the blood elf could be joking when they were about to do something so stupidly dangerous. She took a deep breath and nodded at him again, preparing herself, "Ready?"

"Ready."

They rose from their position on the dune, running down the sand face and heading towards the combat, human and blood elf keeping pace with one another as they neared the fighting. The camp ahead was pandemonium as individual fights had broken out amongst the tents. It was clear that this was not the first raid on the camp, and the reason why the wagons were damaged and there were wounded. The raiding sand bandits seemed to be quite familiar with their adversaries, avoiding the thickets knots of guards and using nets to capture wounded or individual fighters as they could.

As soon as the two spies reached the edge of the camp, both hurled their orbs in front of them. The two metal containers plopped into the sand silently, both exploding once they came to a rest and sending out huge clouds of dense smoke that began to cover the entire encampment. With grim expressions on their faces, Rosellina and Braeth'el ran into the smoke and towards the position of the wagons.

********************************

The world had closed in around Rosellina as soon as she stepped into the swirling smoke. Her face covered with a mask to keep the worst of it out of her lungs, she hurried past the shadowed forms of combatants all around her, making for the position she'd seen the wagons occupying. Shouts and the sounds of combats echoed weirdly in the shroud of smoke, making it impossible to tell if she were about to stumble into enemies. Now and then a weapon would come out of nowhere, and she parried it with a rapier and continued on her way, avoiding being bogged down in true combat.

The map of the camp she'd made in her mind allowed her to stay relatively on course despite the fighting. She identified a few of the key waypoints along her route by touch, finding a camp tent here or a weapon rack there exactly as she expected. After only a few moments a dark shadow loomed out of the billowing smoke, the side of a wagon materializing a moment later.

Rosellina wasted no time and quickly sheathed her swords. She climbed onto the wagon and took a dagger out, prying open the lid of one of the crates and collecting five short swords. She wrapped them with cords she had in her belt, looping the hilts together and then binding the blades before wrapping all of the weapons in a cloth sack that she slid on her back. Her theft complete, she hopped down from the wagon, drawing her weapons again.

The smoke was beginning to clear, and she knew she had little time to get to the cover of the outlying dunes before she was seen. Even as she began to run back the way she'd come, a horn sounded in the midst of the battle and the raiders roared as they renewed their charge. Shadowed forms appeared out of the smoke, horses riding past her at high speed and weapons flashing. A few struck at her, but most seemed to mistake her for one of their own and passed her by without incident. Rosellina whispered a prayer of thanks to the Light and continued running, keeping her face masked so as to appear as one of the raiders.

There must have been over a hundred of them, so loud were the sounds of hooves in the smoke. As the smoke began to clear Rosellina knew she would never make it to the cover of the dunes in time. A desperate plan formed in her mind. She found a spot far from the tents and just on the edge of the rapidly dissipating smoke screen, dropping to the ground and laying prone. She whipped her own cloak over herself, using her rapiers to scoop sand up and slide it over her body.

Within a few moments she had covered herself with sand, her hands digging into the soft surface beneath her and sliding it over her head. She used the cloth mask covering her face to breath through, the thin material the only part of her exposed and letting her see dimly for a short distance.

Around her the smoke was being blown away by the desert wind, the disturbed dunes making her concealment acceptable given the debris all around from the battle. No one would notice the small bit of cloth sticking out of the sand, and besides that, it looked like the camp guards had lost the battle.

The raiders were withdrawing now, captives in tow as they began to climb back up the dunes. Through her cloth cover, Rosellina could see blood elves and goblins being hauled away in nets, likely to be sold as slaves or killed later. Just as she was about to look away, she noticed something that sent a chill down her spine.

One of the nets contained an unconscious Sin'dorei with spiked blonde hair; the raiders had captured Braeth'el.

Rosellina cursed under her breath, tracking the direction that they were taking the spy as they rode off. She had the weapons on her back, but he knew who the buyer might be. She needed the information he had to complete her mission. As he disappeared over the dunes, dragged behind a horse, Rosellina scowled, resolution setting in.

She was going to have to get that blood elf back, one way or another.

Desert Nights

Rosellina tossed and turned in her bed. The heat from the day had been intense, and she'd slipped under the covers in nothing more than her underwear. In her sleep, her dreams made her thrash, her covers thrown off and twisted around her bare skin as she fitfully drifted from one dream to the next.

In her mind she saw a woman with the sky framed behind her. The woman was beautiful, her skin darker than Rosellina's own, with the blue sky contrasted against black hair that was streaming behind her in the wind of their passage, a golden circlet resting upon her brow. The vision bobbed up and down, as if Rosellina lay across a horse, and she felt a chilling sense of urgency in herself. The feeling was mirrored on the woman's face as she looked behind her now and then, before brown eyes that matched Rosellina's own looked down at her. The woman spoke to her then, the words only in Rosellina's mind.

They're coming for us my desert rose. We must get to the flowing sea. Over the water you are safe, safe forever. 

The sense of urgency in the dream grew, and the woman's face drew into a grim expression, the voice pounding in Rosellina's mind.

Wake up my rose. Wake up NOW!

********************************

Rosellina jerked awake in her bed. Perhaps it was the dream that had awoken her, or perhaps the faintest stirring of air, an errant current that didn't belong. Regardless of what the reason was, Rosellina went from a dead sleep to sudden, heightened alertness. Not knowing why, she jerked herself to the right, rolling out of bed and onto the floor of the room she'd rented in Gadgetzan.

The blade that would have pierced her heart slammed into the feather mattress that Rosellina had been laying on, feathers flying from the pierced fabric. The assassin holding the blade gasped as his target suddenly and inexplicably jumped out of the way, whirling his head to track her position in the room.

Rosellina was no stranger to assassination attempts; she'd been trained to perform such actions for many years and instantly recognized the situation for what it was. Before the black cloaked and masked assassin had a chance to regain the upper hand she had already lurched to her feet, leaping onto the bed and hurling her body into the figure.

The assassin was lighter than she'd expected, and when her torso collided with his head her weight easily carried him backwards, driving him to the floor at the foot of the bed with Rosellina's rather bare body atop him. His blade, a short sword, was launched from his grip and skittered across the floor before coming to a rest against one of the room's walls. Beneath the mask Rosellina could see two fel-green eyes blinking in surprise as she attempted to pin him into place with her legs.

Unfortunately, the assassin was far more capable than he appeared, and the sudden reversal had not thrown his attack off balance. His arms were still free and he quickly jerked a hand up, slamming his stiffened fingers into a pressure point under Rosellina's arm and then punching her in the throat with his other free hand. She gagged, her arm numb and the force of the two blows making her fall backwards. The assassin used the chance to shift his body, throwing her against the end of the bed and making the breath gasp from her as the bed stand slammed into her back.

Quick as a cat she lurched back to her feet, the assassin drawing a dagger from his belt. Her eyes locked with his beneath the mask, her hands spread out before her as she dropped into a fighting pose. He jumped at her and she batted his first stab out of alignment with her palm, quickly moving within the reach of his arms, her knee coming up into his groin. He gasped and she punched him in the stomach before ducking to avoid the sweep of his knife as he tried to stab her a second time. He snarled, his knee coming up and colliding with her nose and sending her reeling. Her hands reached out and snagged his clothing, his mask and hood pulling free as she fell backwards on the bed.

It was the blood elf she'd seen dealing with the goblins. He wasted no time in taking advantage of her prone position on the bed, jumping at her with his dagger and attempting to stab her in the heart. She managed to push the blow to the side with one hand, causing the blade to bite into the mattress beside her, the edge leaving a bloody scratch on her right arm. She brought her legs up, bare feet hitting the elf in the stomach and hurling him away. He staggered backwards and slammed into the dresser in the room, the sound of the impact making Roselllina grin.

She lurched back to her feet and then felt a burning sensation in her arm. Her eyes widened as she looked at the cut and at the elf, his blade dripping with a faint green liquid.

Poison. He's poisoned me. Feels like a toxin. Maybe a fast reacting agent that affects the blood. High lethality rating I'd guess.

Rosellina slumped, her memories of her training surfacing in her mind. Specifically she recalled the six hellish months where she had been introduced to various types of poison and the inoculation she was forced to undergo to obtain some resistance to each of the most common forms. She had been as sick as she'd ever been in her life, but it had given her the ability to at least partially resist a small quantity of many regularly used poisons; a quality necessary in a person who would be expected to carry poisoned weapons frequently and who might accidentally cut themselves.

While she was actually sick, she was not as sick as she pretended to be, allowing her body to slide to the floor. The elf smirked, walking confidently towards her as he prepared to deliver the death blow. He stood over her, looking down at her and shaking his head and speaking in perfect common, "Such a waste. You're quite lovely."

Rosellina grinned, looking up at him as she sprung her trap, "That's so sweet."

She punched him in the groin. He was definitely not expecting it, and doubled over in agony. Her next blow was beneath his armpit, causing his dagger to fly out of his hand. Her third blow was to his throat, causing him to stagger back into the dresser again with another loud thump. Rosellina stood her ground, facing off against the now unarmed blood elf, both looking worse for wear.

He broke the silence first, rubbing his throat, his voice a hoarse croak, "Y-you are not a 7th Legion supply officer..."

"And you are not a simple Sin'dorei merchant," Rosellina stated, never taking her eyes off the elf. "Or do you normally attempt to assassinate your rivals in business?"

His fel-green eyes narrowed as he studied her, neither of them moving, "Why are you purchasing weapons here? The 7th Legion would contract them back in Alliance territory. Your actions mark you as a pirate or at the least an illicit arms dealer; exactly what I'm here to investigate and stop."

Rosellina laughed, rolling her eyes, "Oh really? And your investigation involves purchasing said illicit weapons? Please, I wasn't born yesterday."

The blood elf grinned, seeming to relax slightly, looking over Rosellina's nearly naked body with a nod, "No, I can confirm that you weren't. Although you are uneducated surely. Weapons have the marks of their makers upon them. When compared to other similar weapons, their origin can be discovered. Someone is sneaking weapons from Alliance territory to the Kor'kron. Someone from Quel'Thalas. I have enough evidence to show this, and I'm trying to find out who it is that is behind it."

Rosellina's eyes widened and she held her hands up in the sign of a truce, "You and I have the same mission then. I already know where the weapons originated from, but not who purchased them. A human noble was the supplier, and those supply lines are now cut. The buyer must be identified before they locate another source of supply however."

The elf nodded, remaining quiet for a few moments as he thought about the situation. Finally he straightened, looking Rosellina in the eye, "My name is Braeth'el. I work for House Sunfire, and certain interests in Quel'Thalas do not wish to see any additional weapons making their way onto the field if you understand my meaning. If you remain out of my way during my investigation into the matter, I will give you no further trouble, as it appears we work towards the same end."

Rosellina smiled at him, "You can call me Rose. SI:7 has an interest in this as well. We don't like our people supplying weapons to the enemy. If YOU stay out of MY way then we won't have any more conflict."

The blood elf grinned, his messy blonde hair falling around his face as he began to laugh, "Oh that's rich. You think you're the better spy. I'm sure I'll have this wrapped up before you've even figured out what direction the weapons were taken from here. Why, I bet you can't even-"

His words were interrupted by shouts outside. Goblin guards could be heard mustering, their shouts showing that they were beginning to search room by room for the source of the banging and sounds of combat they'd heard. The goblins of Gadgetzan frowned on Horde/Alliance conflict in the bounds of their town. Human and Blood Elf stared at each other across the space, looking alarmed as the guards drew closer.

A moment later the door to Rosellina's room banged opened and three goblin guards burst in, maces ready to club anyone who was bringing the conflict into their town. Their jaws dropped in scandalized shock as they saw Rosellina embracing the blood elf, one bare leg wrapped around his as they kissed. She quickly broke the kiss off, looking at the goblins innocently, "Oh I'm sorry, were we making too much noise...?"

The goblins shook their heads, one of them spitting on the floor and all three backing out of the room, "Just keep it down will you...? Ugh..."

Rosellina smiled and nodded at them, "Sure, no problem! I guess I'll leave the whips in the drawer for now..."

The goblins ran out of the room, slamming the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, Rosellina released the blood elf, managing to contain her laughter somehow, nodding at him.

The elf grinned at her, giving her a mock bow before turning to gather up his weapons and sheathing them. He appraised her with new eyes, nodding at her finally before heading towards the window that he'd come in through, "It seems you are more than you appear to be Rose. Perhaps we will meet again on better terms in the future."

With that he was gone, the curtains around the window moving slightly with the breeze of his passing, leaving Rosellina standing in the middle of the room, a smile playing across her lips. She spoke aloud to no one, watching the space where he'd been, "Perhaps we shall Braeth'el. Next time though I will be one step ahead of you my rival."

 

A Link

The sands blew across the dunes, the abrasive particles getting under clothing and into boots and equipment. Rosellina had covered herself with a cloth head wrap and long robe to keep the worst of it off her, but even so the sandstorms of Tanaris could come unexpectedly and cover an area with new, freshly blowing sand and dust at a moment's notice.

The sun was starting to rise as she made her way across the final set of dunes, her journey nearly complete. She had been let ashore in the darkness of the night near the wreckage that was once the Steamwheedle port. The area was rife with piracy, and the 7th Legion submarine's captain had wanted to move with some degree of stealth to avoid open conflict; it was supposed to be a top secret mission after all.

Once ashore, Rosellina had set out on foot for Gadgetzan. They'd estimated that it would take her the remainder of the night to reach the town and she'd made fairly good progress. The sun was just starting to peek over the ocean behind her as she approached the gates, her form still wrapped in the protective clothing.

The goblin guards there took one look at her and drew their weapons, setting shields and preparing their brutal looking maces for work. Rosellina paused, surprised by the reaction and keeping herself very still, her hands far from her body to show she meant no harm. The goblins chattered amongst themselves, calling out for others and soon there was quite a crowd of them, several of them leveling rifles at her.

"Put your hands on your head!" one of them shouted. Rosellina complied as two of the goblins approached her, weapons in hand.

"I-is there a problem..?" she asked.

"Yeah, we don't let Waste Wanderers into the town," one of them spat back. "You people should know better than to just walk up here with all the raiding you do. 'specially after the Cataclysm. You think we got a bunch of spare supplies for you to make off with here thief?"

"W-what...W-waste Wanderer? I don't know what you're talking about-" Rosellina began.

One of the guards shoved her with his shield, forcing her forward, "Shut up sand trash! Don't need ta hear your excuses. We'll be taking your gear and you can go right back out into the dunes where you belong."

Rosellina paused, despite the shield prodding her towards an area where the goblins obviously meant to strip her of her things, "I'm a citizen of Stormwind, and you will treat me as such. I have no idea why you've mistaken me for a desert wanderer but I've had about enough of this."

"Oh is that so toots?" one of them smirked. He looked over at the other guards and Rosellina quickly found herself being restrained by a goblin on each arm, her legs kicked from behind to knock her over. The goblins stood over her, maces held and ready to bash her skull in if she resisted. "Lotta nerve coming in here and acting like you've the right to."

They began to remove her things from her, starting with the clothes used to cover her from the sands and continuing with her swords. Rosellina quickly found herself stripped down to a tank top and devoid of weapons, the goblins forcing her into a sitting position. One of them smiled, reaching down to grab a chain at her neck. He blinked in surprise as two shiny metal tags were pulled free from the top of her tank top.

"What's this then...?" he said, turning them over in her hands.

"Those would be my 7th Legion dog tags. I told you I was a citizen of Stormwind," Rosellina said, giving the goblin a hard stare. Although she was not actually a member of the 7th Legion, the disguise had been part of the mission parameters and she was glad now she'd been carrying the credentials. In a more firm tone, she addressed the rest of the goblins, "I WAS sent here to look into the purchase of arms and armor, but apparently you don't want 'my kind' to ruin the atmosphere of your town, so, you know, we can spend all of the gold I was allotted to contract with you elsewhere."

"Whoa! Whoa now, let's not be hasty!" the goblin said, eyes wide. He turned and snapped his fingers, gesturing to Rosellina's things. "Let's give the nice lady her pigstickers back and get the Boss down here eh? He can sort this out."

Rosellina smirked as the goblins scrambled to return her things, strapping her sword belt back on. She shrugged when they handed her the robes back; there was no point in covering herself up in the town, and if they were going to think she was a local Waste Wanderer wearing the garb she'd rather not worry about it. A minute later a goblin in a very expensive looking suit with golden rings on his fingers appeared gesturing to her to follow. She walked over to him, falling in step beside him as they made their way through the town. Rosellina could not help but notice a few stares directed her way by the people within the walls.

"Look lady, we're real sorry about all of this trouble," the goblin said. "My name's Blazer, and I run a bit of business out of town here having to do with the merchandise you're looking at. You shoulda just told the boys at the gate you were with the 7th and the Alliance. You gotta excuse them, but you are the spitting image of one of the bandit lords that rules out in the sands out there."

Rosellina paused, feeling as if she were slapped, "B-bandit lords...? W-what...?"

Blazer turned and looked at her, smirking, "Come on now, can't pretend like you don't know you look like one of the natives eh? Look at you. Not only that, but your face and the color of your hair's the spitting image of one of the worst of the raiders out there on the sands. You related to those people or something?"

"I-I...I don't know," Rosellina murmured, filing the information away for further investigation. "I-I'll have to study that a bit later...a-after we d-deal..."

"Whatever you want toots," Blazer replied with a smirk, turning to keep walking. "That's the other thing I wanted to mention before you get your hopes up. We already got a buyer here today, and he already put down coin. Not sure if I'm gonna be able to sell you any stock today, although we can cut a deal for new weapons once they're made eh? I always like to get some wet ink down on a new contract."

With that he turned and lead her towards one of the goblin dwellings there, pushing aside the curtain that made up the door. Rosellina ducked as she entered behind him, her eyes adjusting to the dim interior. When she was finally able to see, she saw there were a few goblins sitting around a conference table, coins laying on the wooden surface and their buyer sitting at a chair at one end of the table. Rosellina's eyes widened as she took him in.

It was a blood elf with long blonde hair and glowing fel green eyes.

Tension instantly ran through her, and her hands darted to her swords. For his part, the Sin'dorei jumped up from his chair, his hands reaching into the sleeves of his robes; sleeves that were more than large enough to contain blades. For a moment human and blood elf just stared at each other, the potential for violence between them almost a thing that could be tasted on the air.

"Hey hey! None of that in here," Blazer complained. "You two wanna make moon eyes at each other, do it outside and we'll just call the whole deal off."

The blood elf smirked, relaxing only slightly and breaking his stare off with Rosellina, nodding at the goblin, "Very well. Our business here is through then. I'll take possession of the shipment in two day's time as we discussed. I'll let you get to your other, less important business now."

He looked at Rosellina as he said this, his lips rising in a half smile as he walked past her. For another moment brown eyes locked with fel green eyes, the promise of a future battle unspoken between them. Rosellina shook her head after he'd departed, looking over to Blazer.

"Yeah so, the elf bought all our stuff up for the next week," he said. "If you wanna wait around though, we might be able to produce more. There's an inn across the way where you can stay while we work it out."

Rosellina considered the situation carefully, thinking about how she would continue with her mission. Her objective was to find the weapons that were getting into the barrens, and identify which Sin'dorei had been making the arrangements from House Falconoak. It looked like she'd just stumbled upon the very information she was seeking.

She smiled at the goblin, nodding and looking out through the thin curtains across the doorway, watching a lean Sin'dorei form as he walked away towards a private residence in town.

"Yes, I do believe that will work just fine," Rosellina replied with a smile. "I'll stick around for a bit, and see what kind of deals there are to be had."

It was going to be an interesting mission; she could tell already.

Reflection in Your Eyes

Rosellina sat on a stack of crates, her boots giving her purchase as the ship bobbed slightly in the waters of the harbor. She could tell a storm was coming in by the way the water was moving, and she'd need to get off the ship soon if she didn't want to be caught in it. Given that she couldn't swim, not being caught over the water in a storm was definitely on her to-do list.

She looked down at the clipboard in her hand, checking off another item with her gnomish pen as she counted the cargo that was almost done being loaded onto the ship. The shipment was bound for Darnassus, and she wanted to make sure all of the items that Lady Featherwind had arranged for transport were in place. Maintaining her appearance as a dutiful agent to the Blackleaf Trading Company was important as it allowed her to have a base of operations within the city. Rosellina knew that Faleseth suspected she was more than she appeared to be, but the Highborne didn't ask questions as long as Rosellina performed her duties adequately and both of them profited from the arrangement.

As Rosellina finished checking off another item and watched the men who were handling the cargo depart for the wagons on the pier, she slipped her pen onto the top of the clipboard and looked out over the ocean, her thoughts feeling as heavy as the rainclouds in the distance.

Her conversation with the Death Knight general last evening had left her feeling uneasy. Although she was not accustomed to speaking with such creatures regularly and she suspected that they were always cynical and ill-tempered as a general rule, there was underlying cause behind the animosity she'd experienced. The Death Knight had already told her that she'd had a run in with SI:7 operatives before; a run in that had not ended favorably. She felt she was the innocent party, and the truth of the matter lay buried between her words and a file that Rosellina would never be allowed to access.

Sometimes our actions are looked at in an ill light due to the things we need to do I suppose.

But that wasn't why Rosellina found herself recalling the conversation again. It was more personal than that. She could accept that the General would be upset over a run in with SI:7 operatives, even angry at the agency itself, but where the real problem lay was in the way Rosellina herself was viewed.

She thinks I'm a liar, and in many ways she's right.

It was odd to think that someone would have such a low opinion of her, but Rosellina could understand where it came from. If taken only by external appearances and random facts, her work would seem cold, brutal, and possibly even evil. She lied, she stole, she sometimes engaged in undercover operations that could result in fatalities. The methods employed by SI:7 varied and often depended on how dire the circumstances were, and Rosellina held no illusions that those who were caught up in those operations would be overly fond of the organization as a whole when they were finished.

I'm sure there are quite a few House Falconoak servants and men-at-arms who had nothing to do with Lord Falconoak's scheme that likely hate me now. Their home was burned down and their jobs forfeit due to my work. I cannot make them understand that what I did was necessary; that it saved innocent lives elsewhere. Nor should I have to explain it.

Then why did the General's suspicion upset her? Perhaps it was because in this case, there was no underlying motive other than a desire to understand exactly what had happened and uncover the truth. In this instance, there was no false front, no subterfuge. She simply wanted to come to understand the situation and the General's feelings on the matter. No matter how many times she spoke to the Draenei though, the woman would adamantly rebuff any friendly overtures. Rosellina understood it, but it still stung.

She can't see me through the mask I wear for my work. To her there is no Rosellina underneath. Anything I show her is simply another mask meant to begin a new plot. Perhaps I shouldn't have identified myself, but that too would have been a lie. 

It was perhaps the first time that Rosellina came to the realization of the cost associated with her work. She would always be isolated like this, for how could anyone get close to someone that they couldn't believe was real? And yet that sacrifice was made so that the interests of the Alliance could be looked after. Someone had to do the job, and Rosellina knew she was qualified to be one of those people.

This is why they choose orphans, because we're used to feeling like this. We're used to not having a family, a home, and true friends to support us. Cast out into the world on our own, we are forced to make our own way. I've simply been guided on the right course unlike so many of the others.

Rosellina sighed and slipped off the crates, walking across the deck of the ship and leaning on the gunwale, looking out over the ocean. She murmured to herself, her mind coming back to the only conclusion she could draw from the random thoughts, "It doesn't matter if you trust me or not General, I am still trustworthy for as long as you are an ally to the Alliance. It doesn't matter if you don't care about the importance of my work; I'll still do it. It doesn't even matter if no one will ever see the commendation in my file; I know it's there and I will keep doing what I have to do. Not because I'm a tool of the King, but because I choose to do so. Because I do the right thing so that others don't have to face the threats we face."

She nodded to herself, firmly convinced of the words she'd said to no one. Trust was something that one earned, and the General would come to see that she could be trusted in time perhaps. If not...well, Rosellina would still do her job, even if she had to help the woman despite herself. It's not like she didn't know everything she needed to know about Rosellina anyway.

Out over the ocean a flicker of light reflected towards Rosellina. She looked into the growing gloom and fog of the incoming storm, watching as the signal light flashed in a complex pattern of signals; signals that were meant for her to see. She reached into a pocket, taking out a magical stone that flashed with light on one side, sending a signal back to the 7th Legion submarine that was waiting just outside of the harbor; waiting to pick up a certain SI:7 operative. Rosellina slipped her signaling device back into her pocket, smiling to herself and turning to walk away.

Well, she knows ALMOST everything about me I suppose. Almost.

With a confident stride, Rosellina disembarked from the ship, heading out to the shore and the longboat that would be there to pick her up in a few minutes. It was time to begin her next mission.   

Recovery

The sound of the waves rolling in gave the beach a soothing background noise, the rhythmic pulse of the water interrupted only occasionally by the distant call of a seabird hunting over the ocean. The hidden cove was covered with beautiful white sand, the pristine and untouched surface containing not a single set of footprints in it other than those made by crabs as they scurried in and out of the shallows.

The sun slanted down through the few puffy white clouds floating in the sky above, golden rays kissing dusky skin as Rosellina reclined in the lounge chair that had been set up on the beach. Relaxing in nothing more than a bikini with her eyes shaded by thick sunglasses, she sighed contentedly, watching the clouds as they drifted past. One of the chair's arm rests contained a cup holder that was currently occupied by some fruity alcoholic beverage that Rosellina had never tried before, the pink liquid shaded by a little miniature umbrella and chilled with ice made by a mage in the nearby town of Booty Bay.

Although the town had been devastated by the Cataclysm, the goblins there were not known for their lack of effort when it came to making money. The private beach that Rosellina currently reclined on had been cleared of any debris from the disaster long ago and returned to the condition that she now enjoyed. Rented out only to exclusive customers, it was occupied by only one patron and their guests at a time, with all of the amenities one could want brought directly to the vacationing sunbathers as desired.

Rosellina sighed again, stretching out and letting the tension in her muscles relax away. Although she was still bruised here and there and her left arm was wrapped tight with bandages at the bicep, she was starting to feel quite a bit better. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, a shadow fell over her and a voice spoke softly, "That still hurt, Rose?"

Rosellina opened her eyes, turning her head to see Lord Gregory Warten standing nearby, looking out over the ocean. She smiled and shook her head, happy to have him there, "No, it's much better thank you. The healers at the Cathedral really are experts. The only reason it's even still wrapped is because they were hoping the herbs they applied will help reduce the potential for scars."

"Ha, as if a little poke from a foil would actually leave more than a tiny circle," Lord Warten said in a joking fashion. He looked down at her, smiling warmly. "Still, I'm glad to hear you are feeling better. You gave me quite a scare there at the end. I'm glad it turned out the way it did and that we're here to have this conversation."

"You and me both," Rosellina said with some mirth. "Next time can we infiltrate something a little less dangerous and a little more obvious, like perhaps an ogre den or some such?"

Lord Warten chuckled, looking down at her with a smile, "Perhaps, perhaps..."

His expression became more serious and he studied her closely, looking at her wounds keenly, "You did good work there Rose, better than I'd have imagined for your first assignment. Some senior agents that I've handled wouldn't have come out of that alive. I've put in a commendation for your file for what you've done."

Rosellina smiled at him, shaking her head, "And is anyone ever going to see that file?"

"Nope! Not even a peep. Not ever," Lord Warten said with a smirk. Rosellina laughed and shook her head, sighing and shifting to get herself more comfortable.

"That's pretty much what I thought. That's all part of the job I suppose," she said.

Lord Warten looked away again, studying the distant horizon, his graying hair blowing in the warm breeze coming in off the ocean. "Many agents retire after what you've been through Rose. They lose their nerve, or get too badly hurt to continue. It's a waste of resources, but sometimes that is the way it is in this game. It's why I'm always training new operatives. Someone has to step up and take their place."

"Well you're not through with me yet," Rosellina replied with some conviction in her voice.

Lord Warten looked down at her, trying to peer past her sunglasses, "Are you sure Rose? No one would blame you for getting out now. You could even claim a medical excuse due to your injuries."

Rosellina sat up, pushing her sunglasses up so she could look him in the eyes, her tone confident, "I'm absolutely sure, sir. You didn't spend all of that time training me so that I could do a single mission and then quit. The King's coin fed me for my entire life, you and your training turned my entire future around. Do you remember what happened the first week after you picked me up for training?"

Lord Warten snorted, nodding, "You stole about three week's worth of rations from the pantry and horded them under your bunk. It was impressive that you weren't caught doing that."

"And you punished me for a month after," Rosellina said. "I remember being so mad. No one had ever disciplined me before, not at the orphanage anyway. They could barely keep track of the children they had there. And here you were, telling me I couldn't take food of all things. But you kept at it. You didn't let my attitude or my little tricks stop you from teaching me, from helping me to become more than a street rat with no parents and no future."

"It...wasn't easy," Lord Warten said with amusement in his voice. "It never is though."

"I owe you more than I can ever repay for that," Rosellina said, her tone firm. "Without you, without SI:7, I wouldn't have had a life, a purpose. Who knows how I would have ended up. Maybe I'd be dead like that Death Knight I told you about. Maybe I'd be in the Stocks right now. The fact is, I'm here and able to make a difference because of the trust you and the King have placed in me. I won't renege on my duties now. You gave me a life to live, and I will live that life doing what I can so that others have that same chance, sir. That's just the way it is."

Lord Warten smiled at her, nodding, "You make me proud Rose. I have a feeling this will not be the last time I say that to you. Very well then, I believe I have your answer to my question. Get better fast, there are many more assignments in your future Rosellina Cooke. The King's blades can never be still and all that."

Rosellina laughed and nodded, sliding her sunglasses back into place, "Understood sir. Another day or two on the beach and I will be fine."

Lord Warten didn't answer, and when Rosellina turned to look he was no longer standing beside her. She was alone again on the beach. She pushed her sunglasses up, looking around before she shrugged. As she was about to lay down, she paused, spying something sticking out of the sand beside her chair.

It was a black folder sealed with a wax seal that had no emblem on it.

Rosellina smiled, picking the secret mission folder up and tucking it under her body before she reclined and closed her eyes again, basking in the sun. Work would never be done, not so long as enemies waited in the dark to strike against her King and country.

Rosellina Cooke would be there waiting for them, a blade to part the darkness.  

The Final Report

Stormwind City, 11:00 in the evening

Lord Warten nodded to one of his operatives as the man finished his report. The evening had been a hurried preparation for the mission that Rosellina was engaged in. Although Rosellina would be taking a group of operatives into the Falconoak Estate directly, Lord Warten wanted to make sure that there were backup elements in place to respond to any sudden emergencies. He'd spent the last few hours preparing an SI:7 ranger force to move at a moment's notice.

An operative cleared his throat behind Lord Warten and he turned to see what the issue was. The operative immediately saluted and launched into his report, “Sir! There appears to be something happening with House Falconoak. About two minutes ago a group of armed men left the premises escorting a wagon. They were heading towards the harbor district. Our other operatives also spotted some more of their men guarding a warehouse in that area.”

Lord Warten's eyebrows shot up at the news; it was a bad sign to find out that a potential enemy might be maneuvering only an hour before a strike. After giving it only a few moments of thought Lord Warten nodded and issued his orders, “Round up our men here. We're going to shadow that convoy to the warehouse. Sounds like they're moving another shipment out and we don't want it to slip past us while Agent Cooke is working her end of the job.”

The SI:7 operative saluted and then turned to start giving out commands, leaving Lord Warten by himself for a moment.

“I don't like the way this is going already Rose...be careful out there,” he said to no one in particular.

*******************************

House Falconoak Estate, 11:30 in the evening

Rosellina pushed the gates and they opened before her. She looked back at the other SI:7 operatives and nodded. They were dressed in House Lightston colors in order to disguise their true identities. Rosellina herself had much of her standard combat equipment on, including her dual rapiers, poisons, and a variety of throwing knives. She knew that Lord Falconoak wouldn't question her choice of attire given what they were supposed to be doing, and it set her at ease to have her equipment in place.

She stealthily made her way across House Falconoak's manicured lawns, her men following along closely behind her. As they approached the main structure, she paused near a set of double doors that were connected to the building's cellar. She knocked very lightly, two raps of her knuckles followed by a pause and two more raps. The signal was repeated from inside and the doors opened, House Falconoak men letting Rosellina and her squad inside. These were the men hand picked by Lord Falconoak to assist her in the mission, and she nodded a greeting to them before setting out with the entire group down the long corridors that ran beneath the main floor of the estate.

If things went as planned, Lady Falconoak would never know that Rosellina and her men were there to capture her until it was too late, and the weapons would be seized before they could get to the enemy.

**********************************

Stormwind Harbor, 11:50 in the evening.

Lord Warten didn't like what he was seeing one bit. The warehouse that his operatives had lead him to was heavily guarded, with men patrolling up and down every alley and walkway in the neighboring community. The structure itself was typical of any shipping company, with a large door on wheels that could be rolled out to allow for cargo to come in and out by wagon and a man-door near the front of the structure.

He watched from a position just up the block as his operatives prepared to make their move. The building itself had guards near the man door, and not minutes before the main cargo door had been opened to allow the wagon entrance and then rolled back into place. Although there were a lot of enemies there, Lord Warten was fairly confident they would fail to stop his men; they weren't trained SI:7 agents after all.

No sooner had he thought that then the raid began. It was perfectly quiet when it happened. The two armed swordsmen guarding the door simply crumpled, the poisoned arrows hitting each perfectly in the neck and making no sound. Less than a second later cloaked figures appeared, quickly picking the lock on the door as more SI:7 agents took out the guards patrolling the streets parallel to the structure.

Lord Warten rose, signaling to the squad he had with him and hurrying down the block, heading for the cargo door. Although they were making a fairly decent amount of noise running across the cobblestones, the time for stealth had ended as the agents near the man-door forced their way inside.

As the structure loomed closer, Lord Warten and his men made no effort to slow their pace, heading right for the closed cargo door. At precisely the right moment it began to open as his infiltrators forced the door, allowing the SI:7 rangers with him access to the front of the building. They plunged into the darker interior, blades drawn and quickly engaging the armed men inside who made no attempt to surrender even when the agents identified themselves.

It was over in seconds, the extremely deadly SI:7 rangers taking out the armed thugs and clearing the inside of the large warehouse. A few lit torches, illuminating the inside of the structure and the wagon sitting in the center of the open space. Lord Warten walked towards it, blade in hand, prepared for anything. He reached the back of the wagon and jerked the curtain aside, a gasp escaping him as he found something he was totally unprepared for.

There were no weapons in the wagon. Instead it contained a chair with a woman tied to it. The woman's face was battered and bruised and one of her eyes was nearly swollen shut. Lord Warten quickly set his blade down and climbed inside, soothing the woman as she mewled through the gag that was in her mouth.

“There there, it's okay, we're the King's men Ma'am,” he said, gently removing the gag.

As soon as it came free the woman cried out, “Oh thank the Light you've found me! Y-you have to stop him before it's too late! He's sent weapons to the tram! He's going to smuggle them out through Menethil harbor. You have to stop them, there are Sha-touched artifacts in the shipment! H-he's selling them to the orcs!”

Lord Warten felt his stomach drop as the woman spoke, the situation quickly spiraling out of control, “W-who are you miss?”

The woman spit a glob of blood on the floor, hanging her head for a moment in exhaustion, her voice low, “I-I'm the Lady Elizabeth Falconoak, and my bastard of a husband did this to me. He said he didn't need me anymore. Said he's going to kill me tonight and make it look like some jealous mistress did it from another House. Please, I'll be alright sir, you have to stop those weapons!”

Lord Warten reeled back as if he'd been slapped. He turned and jumped from the wagon, barking orders, “Untie her at once. You and you secure the rest of this warehouse. We need to get to the tram entrance immediately. We can't let them get those weapons into Ironforge. The dwarves don't know what's going on and won't stop the shipment. It'll be too late!”

One of the SI:7 operatives paused, turning to look at him, “Sir, what about Agent Cooke and the operation at Falconoak Estate?”

Lord Gregory Warten paused, the lump in his throat hard to swallow as he made one of the most difficult decisions he'd had to make in many years. His voice was solemn as he replied, a hint of sorrow in the tone, “Agent Cooke and her men are expended. We can't get to the estate in time and stop the shipment. I wish to the Light there were more of us here, but we've no time.”

“I understand sir, we'll move at once,” the operative replied. Lord Warten was glad that he turned away so quickly, so he wouldn't see the moisture that had suddenly built in his eyes despite himself.

****************************************

Falconoak Estate, 12 midnight, lower cellar tunnels

“We're almost there,” Rosellina said to the men behind her. “The door's up ahead. Everyone draw your weapons and prepare for the attack.”

They'd been moving into position quietly for the past half hour, careful not to draw attention from House Falconoak's guards. After the days she'd spent with Lord Falconoak, Rosellina was familiar enough with the estate to guide her squad and the loyal Falconoak men that Zack had lent her into position.

She paused in the darkness as the men behind her drew weapons, mentally counting down the time. Her countdown was interrupted by the soft sounds of metal plunging into flesh and the grunt of men being wounded. She went to turn to see what was going on when a strong arm wrapped around her torso and a naked blade was pressed to her throat roughly.

“Hold very still Lady Lightston, or I'll slit your throat,” the voice said. In a panic, Rosellina realized it was one of the Falconoak men with her. Behind him the rest of the treacherous men had slain Rosellina's SI:7 operatives, cutting them down from behind with their treachery. Those few who still drew breath on the ground were quickly executed by the traitors.

“I-I don't understand...” Rosellina said quietly.

“Shut up Lady Lightston,” the man replied. Rosellina felt his hands relieving her of her swords before a sack was roughly shoved over her head and darkness plunged down around her. It was followed with a blow to her stomach and a kick to the back of the knees that sent her falling to the rough stones of the corridor.

In the darkness, Rosellina could feel every kick as the men brutally began to beat her.

************************************

Stormwind, Tram Entrance, 12:15 in the morning

The men driving the wagon never expected an SI:7 ranger team to halt them. They didn't even put up much of a fight as the rangers blocked their path and came out of the buildings surrounding the tram entrance. Lord Warten walked amongst them as the SI:7 operatives tied the wagon drivers up and relieved the guards of their blades. The men were a rough group that looked as if they had been hand picked from the worst of Stormwind's criminal cartels...likely hand-picked for their ugliness if he had to guess.

He pushed past them, reaching up and yanking a tarp off of one of the wagons. Under the tarp were dozens of flat crates just like the ones Rosellina had reported on the Falconoak ship. He didn't even need to open the crates to know that they were filled with weapons. There were a few that had odd shapes though, and he took a knife out and pulled up the cover off of one of them, peering inside.

There were daggers in the case, each of them plunged point first into a strangely pulsing orb that sat in the center of the box. The magic emanating from the orb made Lord Warten sick to his stomach just to look at it, and he quickly pulled his head back, spitting on the paving stones.

“She wasn't lying. There are magical weapons in here,” he said quietly. “If we hadn't stopped these wagons...they'd be in orcs hands within a few days. So many Alliance operatives and rebels could have been killed.”

The SI:7 rangers roughly pushed the prisoners into a waiting wagon. They'd be taken off for interrogation and processed. The weapons were quickly seized and moved to one of Stormwind's armories where they could be evaluated for any threats.

It took roughly thirty minutes to seize the weapons and prepare them for delivery to the armory. More time than Lord Warten knew they'd had. He shook his head sadly when they were finished, summoning one of his operatives over.

“Get the Stormwind guards,” he said quietly. “We're going to get Agent Cooke out, dead or alive. I don't care if we have to hack through Falconoak's body directly to do it.”

“Understood sir,” the operative said before turning and barking orders.

Minutes later a squad of SI:7 rangers backed by Stormwind Guards began to run towards a distant part of the city.

********************************

Falconoak Estate, Early Morning

The door to the small room banged open and Lord Zackery Falconoak walked in. Rosellina lifted her head, looking at him through puffy eyes. Her face was battered and bruised and her body ached. She was tied to a chair in the middle of what looked to be almost a closet.

“Ah Lady Lightston, so glad that you decided to play along with my little scheme,” Lord Falconoak said. He walked towards her, reaching out to cup her chin and tilt her head up, looking into her eyes. “I am sorry that our fun is over however, or rather, your fun. I may have a little more before we finish with you.”

For a moment Rosellina couldn't respond, emotions raging through her along with the pain. When she finally spoke, it was a croak and barely heard, “Why?”

“Why? Because there is profit to be made my dear,” Lord Falconoak replied. He smiled at her, leaning close so that his voice would not carry beyond the room they were in. “Did you ever look closely at me deary? Take a good look.”

He brushed his long blonde hair aside and she peered at him questioningly for a moment. He ran his fingers across his ears, his rather unusually shaped, almost pointed ears. Her eyes widened as he smiled.

“That's right! Elven blood my dear! And when the Sin'dorei who are my distant relatives receive their weapons, I'll have a place in lovely Quel'thalas I am sure. And you, well you my poor dear will be dead, branded a murderess for killing my poor poor wife. I don't know why you had to go and do that,” he smirked.

“You'll never get away with this,” Rosellina said defiantly. “The King will learn of your treachery one way or another.”

Lord Falconoak turned and slapped her across the face, causing her head to rock to one side. He slapped her again, and again after that, almost enjoying the sound of his hand hitting her flesh. When he was done, her lip was split and blood ran down her chin. He smirked at her, shaking his head, “I think not Lady Lightston. Enjoy your time here. I'm going to dine and then perhaps partake of the joy of questioning you for a while before I put an end to you.”

With that he turned and walked out of the room, two guards closing the door behind him and leaving Rosellina alone in the room to think.

He'd betrayed her. All along he had been playing her as she had been playing him, a game within a game. He had no idea who she was of course, but given his bent for inflicting pain it seemed obvious that he would attempt to torture her and learn whatever secrets he could from her over her screaming. Rosellina's head slumped as she thought about the situation, her tongue playing with the false tooth in her mouth, the one containing deadly poison that every operative carried as a last resort.

He'll learn of SI:7's operation if he questions me. I have no delusions as to how long I will last. I can't believe that bastard did this. He killed my men, he tricked me all this time. And now I'm going to die.

It was inevitable. Whether she took the poison now, or died under his torture, she was going to die. Her life was forfeit. Her regret was not that her life would end now, on her first assignment, but that she had not really finished it. That her duty was not complete. The monster who clearly was orchestrating arms deliveries to the Kor'kron was sitting in a room in that very estate, drinking his wine and laughing over his food at his success.

Either way, I am dead now. I have to use the poison before he questions me. I can't let him learn any secrets.

Sorrow set in; the feeling sinking deep within her. It was hard to face death; in fact, she was more afraid than she'd ever been in her entire life. Her body quivered with the thought of it, knowing that in a few minutes she would be gone, that her breath would leave her body for the last time. She whimpered once, letting the fear flow through her, letting her mind accept that she was going to die.

There is more than one way to die.

The thought stuck with her, refusing to let go. Loyalty to the King was what she was raised on, what she was trained for. Every fiber of her being protested at dying without a fight, without at least trying, without giving it her very best. His Majesty deserved that from His agents. It too was her duty.

I'll have two minutes before they overwhelm me. Two minutes to finish this.

Rosellina took a deep breath, closing her eyes and calming herself. She felt a drop of her blood drip from her chin to the floor in front of her, her thoughts locking into one and only one train of thought.

Two minutes Rose. Go. Now.

She lurched her body upwards as far as her restraints would allow her, bringing herself backwards at an angle, her body's weight applying pressure to the back legs of the chair she was tied to at a perpendicular angle. The wooden furniture shuddered with a bang and she jumped again, landing on it at the same angle. The third time she did it, the wooden joints holding the legs in place splintered, the chair falling to ruin beneath her.

It hurt when she landed on her arms like that, her weight and the broken wood wrenching her shoulders, but it didn't matter; the chair was broken, her bonds loosened. She stood, shaking off the ropes and grabbing one of the splintered chair legs in her hands as the door to the cell banged open.

The guard ran into the room, rapier held in front of him. She dodged as he swung in a clumsy arc, not expecting the prisoner to be standing. She swung the chair leg, the broken end slamming into his neck and driving the nails that had held the chair together deep into the flesh. Before he could even fully drop his sword and stagger away from her she had snatched his weapon up, darting through the door beyond the cell and stabbing his companion through the heart with the rapier's tip. She paused to snatch up the weapons they'd taken from her that were sitting in the next room, darting out the second door into the hallway.

One minute and forty-five seconds Rose. He's in the dining room. Go to the right and up the hall.

Rosellina ran like she had never run in her entire life, the sounds of shouting coming behind her as the murdered guards were discovered. She grimly pressed on, saying nothing as she passed servants and other House staff at full speed.

*********************************

Falconoak Estate, one minute and thirty seconds later.

To say that Lord Falconoak was surprised when his dining room doors were kicked in was an understatement. The utter shock on his face was only added to when Rosellina ran into the room, swords in hands. The lithe woman turned and slashed open the throat of one of the guards near the door before parrying a blow from the second guard and stabbing him through the heart with the tip of a rapier.

Lord Falconoak rose from his chair at the end of the long table that occupied the center of the dining hall, his voice echoing through the room, “Lady Lightston! I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish, but this will not end well for you!”

Rosellina said nothing, dashing towards the table and parrying another blow from one of the three remaining guards in the room. She could hear shouting in the hallways beyond the dining hall, and knew her time was almost up before House Falconoak's men rushed her from all sides.

Fifteen seconds Rose. Finish it now. For your King.

Her swords came up, the sound of metal striking metal loud in the room as she parried two blows. She slashed the throat of another of the guards, darting here and there amongst them with a display of swordsmanship that the real Lady Lightston would never have been able to pull off. Lord Falconoak stared with wide eyes as the frenzied woman jumped up onto the table, slashing another guard in the throat and kicking over a candle holder. The candles landed on one of the silken place settings, catching it on fire and causing flames to begin to roar across the table.

“Give up Bernice! This unseemly display only makes your position worse!” Lord Falconoak shouted as the flames erupted in front of him.

Rosellina parried another blow, turning to see three more guards running into the room. Knowing she was out of time, she took a drastic move. She turned towards Lord Falconoak, allowing one of the guard's foils to pierce her left arm, dropping the sword in her right hand at the same time.

The pain was intense as the blade passed through her flesh, but she didn't have time to worry about that, didn't have time to focus on it. Her left arm slumped uselessly beside her while her free right hand darted to her belt, whipping out a throwing knife and hurling it across the room, her voice following it, “My name is Rose.”

The blade tumbled end over end, and for a brief moment Rosellina could see her own reflection in the blade's edge, her battered face surrounded by the glow of flames. Time seemed to slow for just a second as the weapon flew its course, everyone in the room watching its progress. It tumbled one more time and then neatly ended its flight point first in Lord Zackery Falconoak's eye. He died before he even knew what happened, his corpse tumbling backwards into the chair behind him and staring blindly up at the ceiling.

Don't give up Rose. Don't you give up. For the King!

Rosellina forced her aching, wounded body forward, hurling herself into the wall of flames that made up the table in front of her. The heat singed her clothing but she ignored it, taking her remaining rapier from her useless left hand with her right and bringing it up, stabbing the first guard to follow her through the flames in the heart. She flicked the point down, using the blade to snag one of the flaming place-mats and flipping it up into the face of the next man to jump at her, the flaming cloth wrapping around his face and making him scream and windmill his arms. She cut him down, stepping over his corpse and hopping from the table.

In the doorway, three guards paused, eyes wide as they saw the bodies all over the room, the flames already licking up the sides of the walls and the tapestries hanging there. Rosellina walked towards them, blood running down her left arm and her face an expressionless mask. One of the guards hesitated, his blade lowering. After a moment he tossed it down and ran, his morale broken. The other two quickly followed suit, fleeing for their lives.

Rosellina Cooke walked after them, stalking them through the burning estate.

**********************************************

Lord Warten and his men forced the gate to the Falconoak Estate open, running up to the main entrance and skidding to a halt, their faces showing looks of disbelief. Guards and servants streamed from the front of the house, the center of the building behind them already fully engulfed in flames. As the House Falconoak guards saw the Stormwind Guards and Lord Warten, they threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender, not wanting any part of a battle.

As the SI:7 agents with Lord Warten began to round up key prisoners for interrogation, one last figure stumbled from the flaming doorway.

Rosellina Cooke stood on the front steps of Falconoak Estate, weaving in place, her left arm completely drenched in blood and her clothing covered in soot. In her right hand was a dented and bloody rapier, the weapon obviously having seen much use in the last few minutes.

Her eyes focused on Lord Warten and she smiled once, her voice a mere whisper and unheard over the roar of the flames behind her and the wailing of the men on the front lawn of the estate, “I told you that you could trust me sir.”

With that Rosellina's brown eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted dead away. Her rapier landed first with a clatter followed by the soft thud of her body. She lay on the marble steps for only a moment before Lord Warten ran over and scooped her up, carrying her from the burning ruins of the enemy's estate.

“We need a healer! RIGHT NOW!” he shouted, rushing her through the crowd. He'd carry her to the cathedral himself if need be. The girl had pulled off her mission despite all odds, and he'd be damned if she didn't make it because he was too slow. All the while as he ran, a feeling of fatherly pride flowed through him. He had never been as proud of an agent as he was in that moment.

The mission was complete, but Rosellina Cooke's career had only just started.