Sedition [Training l Private]

"Are you certain?" Seph checked his notes one more time. He examined the body and found a deep scar on the corpses' left leg. It wouldn't make for a grand crusade if he was out killing the wrong people. But, the scar and the face tattoo was enough for Sepholin. "If you're unsure....?"

The bookie gave it one more glance and shrugged. He yawned and motioned for him to get the body off of the table and into the unmarked slot in the wall. He pushed the slab of stone in and latched the square panel, locking it in place. His fingers filtered through some papers and scribbled some notes down. Seph waited patiently, his eyes trailing what were much needed repairs to the walls and front door. He was paid in cash and spent the rest of the night nursing a drink. The bar was poorly lit, but that may have been the intent. He watched people come and go and in the end, he could count the patrons left on a single hand. He wasn't much of a drinker; at least not before. But taking a life is no trivial task and tonight, the sake had a good taste.

Finally, a figure entered the bar. It stopped as if to survey the area or to adjust to the low lighting, then move it's way towards Sepholin. Seph filled his choko with sake and took a sip as the figure sat down across from him.

"I have to pour my own?" He asked. "My my, you really have been gone long. You've forgotten civilization, I see."

"You're ruining the taste," Sepholin muttered. "Besides, you've been hounding me for weeks and here I am, you can buy your own damn drink."

"Touchy," he reached over and poured a choko of his own. His eyes squinted when he grinned and he placed a small, leathered notepad on the table. "You're a hard man to track down, but I guess that's why you work for us--"

"I don't work for you," Sepholin breathed. "You are a means to an end. In a land without a backbone, why wouldn't I use the single vertabrae that I find intact?"

"Is that any way to treat a man bearing gifts?"

Sepholins fingers traced the rim of the choko, but his eyes never left the notebook. "Is that the updated list? Where did you get it?"

"It's a modified list... and it's yours," he drank. "Think of it as an investment. You made a lot of bold claims 10 years ago and like everyone, I chalked it up to youth and inexperience. But now your not so inexperienced are you?... or youthful. And some of us want to see a change in this country. Things are moving faster than we expected. That is why we had to move up some of our own plans."

"It's going to take a while," he replied. Those claims he made... he was counting on the power of the dragon king, but he was a fool for thinking the demon would adhere to any deal they made. He would have to do this on his own. "This path that I've chosen has no room for error. I need to be sure that the names on that list are the ones responsible for this country's current state."

"Responsible? Probably not," he shrugged. "But they are the ones who have picked up the mantle. Getting rid of these will certainly clean out the gutters, long enough for us to make your case to be elected Kage. Then we can have a totally different conversation. These small fry are free, if you want those responsible, it's going to cost you. But, don't let anyone fool you, the road to kage is paved in blood, my friend. It's better if you do the paving and the less you worry about discerning who's responsible and who deserves what, the better."

Sepholin put the cup on the table. He had his fill. "I understand," he finally said, getting out of his seat. "I'll leave tonight, gotta get back to work." He reached for the notepad, but his guest placed a single finger on top of it. Sepholin's glare shifted until he made eye contact.

"Of course," he squinted, "I want to make it clear to you that it is in your best interest that you forget who we are if you are caught or if you fail in any way. To be blunt, treason is not something this village will overlook and assassinating the Hikage, regardless of who it is, will be met with resistance, at best. There is a reason you do not know any of our names, or have seen any other face but mine."

His eyes were cold. He was a hard man that understood the life of an assassin.  

"Who said anything about anything like that?" Sepholin finally replied.

Sepholin tugged at the notepad and it was released. He closed it, shoving it into his pocket. He tossed a few coins on the bar and stepped out into the darkness of night.

Word Count: 849

Sepholin ripped the metal from the leather, scrapping everything that cannot be used. Weapons, food, shoes, everything else was now his. The bodies he would take to a travelers post not far from here to turn in. They put up a fight, but he left the faces unscathed for identification. He marked the names of the dead in his vintage leather book as well as his new additions into his inventory listing. One of the swords broke in half and he was somewhat grateful that it happened now instead of in a pinch a week or two after he took it. Instead, he tossed the katana to the side.

"How disappointing," he muttered, disabling the traps that he was not able to use.

He loaded the bodies on a makeshift sled and began to pull in the direction of the travelers post. It was almost 3 months since he awoke and freed the dragon king from its slumber. This land was different. Then again, a lot can change in 10 years. Fubuki was a defensive military commanders dream. The city's surrounding walls were historically impenetrable. As if anyone would make it to the walls with the icy mountains or constant blizzards that would hold any army at bay. Truthfully, most people were content staying out of the affairs of the rest of the world. The skirmishes did not concern anyone who was simply trying to raise a family. It did not concern Sepholins father and mother or siblings. It did, however, concern Sepholin, deeply. He was obsessed with elevating Fubuki, to let every country know that their hardships were a vacation to any man born under the High Tundra. 'What a fool,' he thought, dragging the sled behind him. He adjusted his cloak as the cold air found a way down the back of his neck. This feeling, a chill running down his spine, was familiar. He remembered the sensation when he first set out to find the Dragon King. It was a tall tale for many and Sepholin knew the stories. But he also heard other stories as well, tales of an ice god that kept the mountains frozen and of it's great power.  

He left his village on the brink of war in search of this legendary creature. For weeks, he found nothing, scaling the treacherous, unforgiving mountainsides. For a while, his muscles responded on instinct. One foot drug in front of the other and the weight of his body would shift from one foot to the other. The frost began to slow his body down and for the first time, he was afraid. He knew death when he saw it and he did not want to die before he found what he was looking for. He also did not want to go home empty handed. He thought often of his home and wondered they were still debating and deliberating. Everyone wanted to sit tight in there little hole in the world and watch as the world burned itself to the ground. They only cared about themselves and Sepholin knew such selfishness can only prosper for a time. A good defensive strategy is good, but it's only a matter of time before your enemies band together and brute strength can always overpower a good defense. He shook these thoughts from his head. He tried to reason with them, but they were safe and he couldn't argue with safe. He could bring back the god of ice and then they would have an unstoppable offense. Then, no one could stand against them. No one could--

The ground gave way under his feet and he fell, hard. Snow and chunks of ice showered around him and a slim pillar of light filtered in from the hole up above. He was in a cave, a cavern of some sort. He felt around, the ground felt very different, not soft, but not mountainous either. However, the walls were made of rock and panes of thick, solid ice. He knelt and stretched his hand forward to touch the surface of the ground, but hesitated. He looked up, half expecting his only source of light to disappear, then allowed his fingers to gloss over the floor. Smooth and jagged, rough and leathery. He was bleeding, but he didn't know from where. The cold numbed his body and he could have had broken bones by now and he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. A few pains throbbed here and there and at the very least, he knew he wasn't dreaming. That is, of course, until he heard a voice. It was rough, very low and deep, but loud as if it was all around him.

"Begone!" It bellowed, "It is too early to wake my slumber."

"He's here..." Sepholin smiled. At long last, the realization set in, not only had he found the dragon king, but he was standing on him at that very moment. "Power resides in you. Won't you lend me your strength?"

There was only silence. They stayed there for hours. Sepholin would not go home without the dragon's help. But soon he found that he could not go anywhere at all. The hole that he fell through was unreasonably high and the ice on the walls were too smooth and slippery to climb, especially in his injured state.

"Are you really the King of Dragons?" Sepholin wondered aloud. "Aren't your marvelous talents wasted in a place like this?"

"Not interested," the dragon yawned.

"Then fight me," Sepholin stated. This caught the dragon's attention. "To be fully transparent, I had no intention of borrowing your power, Dragon King. I will be a force to rock this world and I can't do that without allegiance. Fight me and when I win, my ideals become yours and your power becomes mine."

There was no reply, only silence. Sepholin fell into a deep sleep and for years he fed chakra to the dragon king and the dragon king sustained his life until it was time to escape.