Mystic Syn

“I’m much smarter than you’ll ever be,” Khusa said, calmly climbing over the wall. “And I’m terribly sorry that you’ve made me do this. I gave you fair warning.” Before they could react, Khusa swiftly and effortlessly disarmed the stranger, throwing their knives out of reach. Khusa swept the stranger off their feet with a hard blow to the ankles, twisting their arm behind their back as he leaned his weight on their with one foot while pulling out his own knife in one motion. He pointed the blade to the stranger’s throat, but didn’t apply pressure. “You and I” he started, his voice hinting towards blood at any wrong word on the stranger’s part, “are going to have a talk about what a professional assassin is. And, if you don’t want me to talk to the law about what you have done to one of my most valued customers, I suggest you listen very closely: I am not your enemy, far from it. But, so help me, if you don’t take a second to think about what’s going on, I will make you wanted not just by the law, but with the underground too. You will wish that I would have just ended your life right here and now. “You have the killing part of the assassin down––I don’t doubt that for a second––but you’re not thinking. You underestimate the law, because if they were able to catch you in the act, you better bet whatever coin you have that they are already working on posters and telling every law enforcement in the whole star-forbidden country what kind of reward that can get by turning you in, dead or alive. They know your starring face, for crying out loud!” Khusa’s gaze turned cold. “If you don’t come with me, you’ll be on the run for the rest of your life; you wouldn’t be able to do your work without the fear of someone catching you or recognizing you because you let yourself be seen. However, if you were to come with me, I will talk it over with officials and see what I can do about your face in their system, then we never have to talk again.” He applied a little pressure to the stranger’s neck, but not enough to draw blood. A cold smile appearing on his lips. “And I suggest you make your choice soon,” he offered. “Your new friends are eager to talk with you.”

“And whose fault was that?” Khusa pushed past them, his smugness gone. He gestured for them to follow. “You’ll be safe from the police if you follow me back to my office. If you don’t want to get caught, I suggest you follow me. You have no reason to trust me, but unless you want to know what life’s like in prison, probably your only option is to follow me, considering you left them a trail.”

“Trust me,” Khusa said, unrolling the contract carefully, “I know better than anyone than to ruin someone’s contract, especially if they want me to sign it.” He read over the words and finer details, which read… idk what exactly it says.

Khusa looked down at the new cut, making tsk sounds. “Haro is not going to be happy when she sees that,” he muttered to himself. He turned his gaze back up at the stranger. “‘When’? I think you mean ‘if.’ Just give me the contract so I can read it,” he said slowly. “It’s not going to hurt you to let me read a piece of paper before I sign away my soul. You’d be surprised of how many little details get overlooked when signing a contract, just think of all the times you’ve said ‘I agree’ to the terms and conditions without actually looking at them. And if I were to sign it, I would rather do it in my office where it can get notarized by Haro. And I can assure you that my office is safe for assassins like you from the prying eyes of the law enforcement. I’m not even going to mention the fact of how I don’t know if this is legitimately a contract, but that’s another topic for another day.”

“Oh no,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Whatever will I do?” Khusa rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering something incomprehensible. He brushed the knife away again as if it were just annoying him. “Just let me read your precious contract, maybe sign the stupid thing, and no one gets hurt,” he said, looking exasperated. “Maybe I could pay for an ear appointment for you, that way you can actually hear what I’m saying rather than resorting to knives and a piece of paper. By the way, do you honestly think that I could keep that oath? I mean, I would, I know that, but do you really think by shoving a piece of paper in people’s faces for them to sign will get them to shut up? Do you follow them? What if they start screaming for help? You’re pretty screwed when they start screaming.” He shrugged. “I’m just saying that if you were under me, this whole ‘cutting off loose ends’ would go a whole lot easier than literally shoving a piece of paper in someone’s face without a writing utensil to even sign their darn name on.”

“Were you not listening when I said what would happen if you did that?” Khusa rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ve dealt with worser annoyances than you, and I don’t think I’m asking for much when I want to see your oh, so important contract. Honestly. Grow a pair of ears. It’s like you haven’t been paying attention. What part of ‘I’m a part of the underground and will most likely not care to tell the law enforcement who did it’ do you not understand?”

“‘Forbidden,’ huh?” Khusa tapped his chin, nonchalantly pushing the knife away with a finger. “Would it be forbidden to say that I ran into someone while taking a stroll and we haven’t said a word to each other since? Perhaps you’re talking about the murder. Well, would it be forbidden for me to say that he died, but I don’t know how? I walked in right as the supposed murderer escaped? I mean, what would they want with that old person anyways that would have need for my attention, unless they just so happened to have a contract for me to sign without having read all the fine details first, because just like my mother always said: Never sign contracts without putting on your glasses.” Khusa folded his arms, smirking nonetheless. “Now, why would someone like you want someone like me, a person who basically runs the underground, to sign something without putting in too much thought?” He tilted his head. “You’re pulling out this contract like it’s supposed to mean something to me.”

“Because if I were to disappear, the underground would stop at nothing to find and kill you. Not to mention that you would be dead before you could try.” Khusa gave his signature smirk. “I don’t doubt your abilities, far from it; after all, Arke is a pretty hard person to kill. But you shouldn’t underestimate mine.”

Khusa snatched the stranger’s wrist and held it tightly. He looked them over, regarding the blood on their trousers and the knives, then staring straight into their eyes. “So,” he said, his voice smooth, “it was you, wasn’t it?”

Khusa watched the city, clasping his hands together. The people below looked like little figurines that would be bought for little children, easily played with when doing it right. He tapped his fingers together, lost in thought as he surveyed his little view of the city. On the outside, it was a functional city that anyone would like to visit, but the people who’ve lived there for too long know that much went on in the shadows, in the little cracks and corners of the alleyways; however, those people didn’t do much about it, either because they were too afraid of what would happen if they did or they were a part of the organizations that worked in the shadows. He paused, then looked at the time. “Haro,” he called out. “Don’t I have an appointment at two fifteen today?” The door opened slightly. “Yes, sir.” “And? Where is he? Show him in.” “Uh. He isn’t here.” Khusa blinked. He turned around to face Haro, an eyebrow raised. “That isn’t like Arke,” he muttered, bringing a hand up to his chin. “He’s usually on time.” Haro walked in, her heels clicking. “Maybe he’s late,” she offered, stopping in front of his desk. He considered her comment as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk with hands clasped. Thoughts in front of him, Khusa searched every single one he knew about Arke. He let there be silence between the two of them, and Haro knew better to intervene. The more he thought, the more his brow knitted together. No, it wasn’t like Arke to be this late. He always was a bit early, if not right on time. They always had these sort of meetings, especially during the day. One of his most valued customers was missing, and he knew that he would just disappear without… “Haro,” he said suddenly, “do I have any more appointments today?” “No, sir.” “Hmm. Knew there was something off.” Khusa stood up, setting his jaw. “I’m going out,” he remarked, then waved at the desk. “Take care of the tea, please. I’ll be back before you know it.” Haro nodded, reaching down to grab the platter before Khusa snatched her hand again. She looked up at him, seeing him looking her in the eye with a smirk as he brought her hand up to give a small kiss on the back. Haro gave him a knowing smile, then gently brought her hand back to carry the platter out. She picked it up, then walked out without saying a word to him. Khusa smiled and grabbed some things out of the desk drawer, then strode over to his coat hanger, grabbed one, and walked out into the city. . . . Walking up the steps of the manor, Khusa’s smile was gone, replaced by a serious stare. He regarded the manor, unusually quiet at this time. As he suspected, something was up or he would’ve met about fifty guards by now. Khusa continued his path, as if nothing was going on. He kept his hands in his pockets, continuing to look the building and courtyard over and over. There were some gardeners, yes, but they rarely acknowledged his presence. Besides, they wouldn’t know what was going on. Not right now. They weren’t told what had happened. Khusa walked up to the door and rapped on it gently. Not much to his surprise, no one answered. He raised an eyebrow and started off in a direction to inspect the building.

Khusa Asou scratched down some words on a ledger, humming to himself. His fingers tapped against the desk’s surface as he did so, his eyes scanning over the ledger one more time before placing it in the completed pile. Khusa leaned back, stretching and popping stiff joints. The office was tidy, just how he liked it. Everything had their own place, even the small plants in the corners. The sun peaked through the curtains, and even that looked like it belonged in a place in the tidy office. Sure, he didn’t think he would be writing up ledgers for less than legal reasons in this clean of an office, but it was also the place where people thought of last. The door creaked open. Khusa lowered his gaze and smirked at the newcomer. Haro Salio––his secretary––pushed past the chairs with a platter with a teapot and cup. She brushed her short dark hair out of the way as she placed the platter in front of him, then wiped her skirt down. One of the best decisions he’d ever made was when he’d hired her. Without her, his whole organization and business would’ve fallen through years ago, and then some. “Your tea, sir. And your two o’clock is waiting for you,” she said, grabbing his completed ledgers and turning to walk out. Khusa quickly snatched her hand, holding it gently. “My dear Haro,” he purred, giving his signature smirk again. “Like the sun, you flee and leave me in darkness. You light up my life, leaving me to bask in your warmth before you undoubtedly leave me with only glimpses of that warmth from the moon. You know how much I appreciate you, especially when it comes to making sure I’m on time.” She looked him over, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t con me like any of the customers.” ”Who says I’m conning you?” he asked, his smirk growing bigger. “You have that glint in your eye.” “What glint?” “The glint that you’re up to no good.” “‘Up to no good’? Why would I ever? All I am is grateful for your presence, as you give me life every time you come in.” “And I appreciate you acknowledging the work I do–” She drew in closer, a smirk appearing on her own lips. “–but you’re going to have to try harder than that.” “Who says I was trying, dearest?” “You’ve been trying ever since I walked in the door for the first time.” “And how could you not fall for me?” “Because I’m not interested in looks, Khusa,” Haro said as she booped his nose, which only made his smirk grow. “I’ll tell your two o’clock you’re ready,” she added, walking towards the door. Khusa only grinned when the door closed, leaving him in silence. Picking up his cup, he sipped the tea. One day. The door opened again, and he lifted his gaze to see a suited middle-aged man with short black hair, trembling as he held his briefcase. Khusa raised an eyebrow, but stood up with arms open. “Welcome, sir!” Khusa called out, then gestured to one of the empty seats in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat.” “Tha-thank you, Mister Asou,” the man said, his voice trembling. He made his way and sat down on one of the seats, if hesitantly. “My pleasure.” Khusa sat down, placed his elbows on the desk’s surface, and clasped his hands. “Now, what brings you here?” The man ran his hands over the briefcase’s surface, his trembling eventually subsiding. “I’m here to give you some feedback,” he announced. “Oh, feedback?” He poured more tea in the cup, looking up at the man. “Yes. Concerning your business and perhaps what you do in the background.” “Well, then allow me to go first, why don’cha?” Khusa smiled when he saw the man’s expression of speechlessness. “Your sales are at an all-time low. Barely any people come to for law-advising, let alone whatever else you’ve decided to sell to try and rake in as much funds as you can. Really what you get for having bigger competitors than your own business. Even with those funds you’re actually receiving, you’re embezzling them in an off-shore bank account under your own name––Lawve Klu––for yourself rather than helping your own business. “You scrounge around for any dirt on small business’ like mine to blackmail them on your side, to get more money, really. It’s honestly a marvel you’ve managed to find anything wrong about my little store where I only sell second-hand clothing for a fourth of the price than what you would find at the really corrupt clothing stores… you know, the ones where they’ve had to pay you in particular to get off their backs and remain silent. Those funds go to buying yourself niceties or go into that aforementioned off-shore bank account for later. “Don’t worry, I do my own research,” he said, smirking as he leaned back. “So, Mister Klu, what is your feedback? I’m more than willing to accept it.” Lawve was at a loss for words. Many times did he open his mouth, but no words came out. “Well then, Mister Klu–” Khusa leaned forward, his smile fading as the light dimmed slightly. “–if you ever come for my business and the people who work here ever again, you better believe that I will do more than give the information I just spouted off to the police. I know everything that goes on in the shadows, so don’t even try to hide there if you decide to try and take me down.” The sweat on the man’s brow was visible, even in the dimming light. Lawve quickly rose, muttered his thanks for having the appointment with him, then leaving the room without another word. Khusa leaned back in his chair, the smirk coming back. The light rose back to its original brightness as he turned to look out the window behind him, cocking his head at the roofs. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Hello there, and welcome to the chaos Shard! What would you say is your favorite Sanderson book? Doesn’t have to be Cosmere. On top of that, who would you say is your least favorite character of Sanderson’s?

Man, y’all lucky. You get two things from me today.

Here’s a little sketchy. Not from the bus, though.

Scarf’s my favorite, ngl.

Tyyy. It such happy, and much winter. Should’ve added a Santa hat, but whatever lol.