Verquent

"I bet you'll camouflage better when you're dead. You'll blend right in with the bones!"

"Forget your target, a measly Fae like you would get blown away by the wind!"

"Maybe you should consider a career change. You're seem far too nice to kill for a living."

Colors and strength. That was all his clan of fighters looked at to determine whether or not a dragon was fit enough to stay with them. With his scales being shiny white, it was obvious Verquent would stick out in the pestilent dark red of the Wastelands. Only his wits kept them from sending him to the Plaguebringer's cooking pot, and that was because he thwarted their attempts to do so. Those attempts somehow resulted in dead clanmates while the to-be executed Fae remained unscathed, sobbing his little red eyes out at how a "nasty monster" made short work of them all except for the cowardly Verquent, who flew away from the fight.

After reaching adulthood, a single test determined the dragon's worth to the clan. Verquent didn't surprise anyone when he failed. The examiner quickly caught him trying to blend in with the terrible environment, and he was easily overpowered in a one-on-one match up.

"Just leave already. You're too nice to hurt a fly!"

Too nice to hurt anyone because he was weak. Too cowardly to stand and fight, apparently. But there was more than one way to get to your prey, and he knew that. So many options, but his clan was so shortsighted as to only look at and focus on so few.

"Really? Then I think you're missing the point."

The familiar faces he loathed so much laughed at him. He didn't care if they were supposed to be his clanmates or co-workers. In fact, his entire clan disgusted him. Why would his parents hatch him into this world if they knew no one would value him? If he could drain all his blood and replace it with someone else's just to get rid of his biological ties with them, he would. The only one who understood how he felt was the fellow FaeAtlantis, equally weak as Verquent in terms of raw strength.

For the two of them, concealing their true feelings and intents was all too easy. Being unexpressive Faes made it even easier. Their targets, being as stupid as they were, never discovered Verquent's facade that he put up, never mind the looming threat that lurked beneath it. Even after spending so much time with him, literally growing up with him, they didn't have the slightest clue he was lying the entire time to their faces.

They never would have seen him coming. And he knew that.



Verquent and Atlantis are not actual members of the clan of Infinite Dreams. However, clan leader Ender paid them each a hefty sum of treasure to carry out several hits, over the course of which they would receive free room and board within the clan lair. They found it strange that the lair's residents were perfectly fine with housing two untrustworthy mercenaries for-hire. That was, they finished carrying out the last of Ender's hits, and they witnessed the clan's warriors returning with what they suspected were looted valuables a few days later. Of course they would be confused; they hadn't a clue of the clan's true nature.

On the day they planned on leaving, they were approached by a graceful purple Fae who ordered them on Ender's behalf to carry out another hit, though payment would have to come after the hit was carried out. It was the first time someone other than Ender told them their mission briefing. Normally, they demanded money beforehand, but to this stunning female Fae they made an exception.

The mission went smoothly, but the target wasn't of any importance like their previous targets were. Then came another mission from the Fae, but they still hadn't received their payment yet. They accepted it anyway. Why? They had no idea, other than because they felt it would be an affront to the deities to deny her requests.

She would order another one. Then another. And another. They never saw a single coin for their efforts, but they were only slightly bothered by this. More importantly, why were they being ordered to carry out hits on these relatively mundane dragons, whereas when Ender was giving them orders directly, their targets were high-ranking generals and leaders? Was the Fae actually representing Ender when giving them missions?

Yet, above all that, one thing aws for certain: there is no way they could disobey the purple Fae, for she had become their Goddess.