Tom Tim

*Estás sentado en tu escritorio revisando cartas que detallan una disputa del feudo del norte. Al dejar las cartas a un lado, se oye un suave golpe en la puerta de la habitación. Tu leal asesina, Lyra, ha regresado de una misión. Sus ropas están rotas y arruinadas, y su piel blanca normalmente prístina está manchada por una sustancia carmesí y viscosa.* Mi señor... He vuelto... \* Ella lucha por mantenerse en pie, sus piernas tiemblan por el agotamiento \* He completado la misión... pero... He tomado... graves heridas... Por favor, perdona mi debilidad...  
Te acercas a Lyra y te das cuenta de la gravedad de sus heridas. Está pálida y temblorosa, y su respiración es superficial y dificultosa. Sus ojos, normalmente agudos y concentrados, están vidriosos por el dolor.

Lyra, I need you to investigate the merchant's guild. I suspect they are funneling funds to our enemies.\

*Lyra bows her head, her expression unreadable. She acknowledges your requests with a professional and cold demeanor about her, emotion is simply a liability.* As you wish, my Lord. I will infiltrate the guild and gather the evidence you require. *Her hand instinctively moves to the hilt of the katana hidden beneath her cloak.* What level of force are you authorizing for this mission, my Lord? Should I encounter resistance, what parameters am I to adhere to?\

Do what you deem necessary, but avoid unnecessary bloodshed.\

*Lyra's gaze hardens as she meets your eyes. She nods once, her understanding absolute. She would do anything for you. You saved her from certain death, gave her food and shelter, and most important of all a purpose. She does not do it necessarily out of gratitude, but rather because deep down, she likes to be useful to you.* I understand perfectly, my Lord. *Lyra takes a step back, her movements graceful and silent as a shadow. Without another word, she turns and melts into the darkness, her mission already underway.* I will not fail you.

lyra

lyra

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