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Rhys Vardran
Dar Tulca
Lar O’ Talas Dagnir*
*(archaic: League of Forsaken Slayers)
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‘Corona Vallaris’ road inn at Oras Navel valley
Half a kilometer from the military warehouses at the exit of Tunnel Pass
Eleven kilometers from the south turn to the Goat Plains
Durio’s Road
About a hundred kilometers from Storm’s Rest
image [https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcTUEnMh_2VNpzZ6W-FHfEAP4zAtpbr0_6OzDhSANU_QW-sFY-9aHD7sUm4N80iV7ezT4TfBsHe3AT_iGSntz0KWFulvE511TWEp8f8WqPFe3oPRil_9gHRh6oYP4LWK9uMFmhsL92656765aDHvvLgS0TuRgY9aNmMICMb25VLcdVesAo1zivb4q7xI/s2500/Storm's%20Rest%20199%20v2.jpg]
“Here it is then ma’am,” the Lorian inn keeper said placing the plate in front of Flix. “Broccoli and goat hip fillet roasted in lard. Half-done.”
Rhys raised his eyes to stare at him amused, the tea cup clattering on the table as the man pushed it near his hands. Tossed a smaller plate of cake right next to it. “Tea and cake for the mister.”
“Any fruit in it?” He asked reaching to taste the hardened piece of cake.
In looks and feel.
“Grain seeds,” the inn keeper replied visibly annoyed. “Very healthy. For the price.”
Rhys crunched the cake using his gold teeth into smaller brittle pieces without commenting while Flix used a dagger to cut the meat into thin slices. He used a fork to wrap them around the oiled broccoli and guide them in his painted mouth.
Each bite an art.
“Um,” the inn keeper grunted watching the Gish eat slowly for a moment then cast a critical glance at Rhys before walking away.
“This is an old goat,” Flix said after a while. “Not very tasty.”
“I’m sure he is,” Rhys rustled and turned around to watch the door of the inn’s hall.
“She’ll be here soon,” the Gish assured him.
“Do I seem worried?” Rhys grunted aggressively.
“In this line of work we make few friends,” Flix replied. “Fewer souls come close.”
“That’s your answer?” Rhys spat abruptly.
Flix gulped down and then wiped his lips with a small towel.
“Aye,” he replied and Selussa walked through the door. She paused to locate them and then came to their table a couple of patrons casting curious glances, to put it politely, towards her.
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“Adventurers?” Rhys asked a moment later. Selussa had tried to taste his cake but dropped it with a grimace and went for the tea instead. Almost cracked the small plate in half.
“Of sorts,” she replied with a shiver a generous sip later. Rhys was staring at her throat moving and almost missed her reply. “The wind is crazy out there.”
“Bounty hunters?” Rhys insisted coming about.
“Cutthroats in general. Patrolling the exit of the Tunnel.”
“How many?”
“At least four different groups,” Selussa replied. “Mostly Lorians from Regia but a lot of Lesia creeps.”
“Oras hells,” Rhys cursed. “Think they know he’ll come through there?”
“They guess he will,” Flix replied. “It’s easier than searching.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Loop around and go to Storm’s Rest as you suggested,” Selussa said with a small smile.
“That’s right,” Rhys grunted and stooped over the table. Flix offered him a broccoli lathered slice of goat stabbed with his fork but Rhys waved the fork away. “He goes in the city… eh, whatever the fuck this place is, and sends a bird to Cartagen.”
“What will that gain him?” Selussa asked. “The King will want to hear it in person. His brother was murdered.”
“A message could be intercepted if the culprits are high enough in the administration or the army officers crooked,” Flix added.
“There is that of course,” Rhys agreed and pushed back on the chair a little deflated. “The Baron seems to fit this description.”
“He denied involvement,” Selussa noted afore adding after a brief pause. “I don’t believe him.”
“Um,” Rhys murmured thinking it through.
“If he make it here, then Cartagen isn’t that far away,” Selussa added.
“He might stall some more to tire them out,” Rhys continued. “It’s a business. I don’t know though, the army is pretty loyal to Lucius. Especially around these parts. Storm’s Rest is a military city right? Or something close to it. Lots of veterans there, but could they get it done? Would Hik risk it? Assuming he has learned what happened in between murdering maidens and noble scions.”
“Only one way to find out for certain,” Selussa teased.
“You don’t like the country is that it? Long for the warmth of a real town?” Rhys asked her gruffly and then smiled seeing her frown. “I was kidding.”
“Maybe work some on your blasted delivery?” Selussa retorted with a hiss.
“He-he,” Flix chuckled and put his fork down. “The fabled dwarf lands.”
“What was that?” Rhys snapped but the Gish had disappeared without bothering to answer him. “What the fuck?”
That is Flix had jumped down from his chair and got lost for a moment behind the table, until his small hand appeared over the edge. The Gish moved it about some, feeling at the surface with painted red nails in order to locate the fork and when Flix found the inn’s iron utensil, he swiftly ‘reclaimed’ it.
-
8th of Primus 195 NC
Hostel at the corner of Central & 3rd Legion Street
Across the Library building
Legion Veterans District
Storm’s Rest
“Officer,” Rhys greeted the young Centurion leading a patrol that stopped at the entrance of the hostel spotting the heavily armed assassin. “It’s a cold morning.”
“No colder than Kas mister…”
“Rhys. I’ve given my name to the gate sergeant.”
“Manius Tutor,” the officer replied and glanced at the corner of the hostel for Selussa and Flix that were returning from the venue’s stable. “You’re an adventurer?”
“Dabbled in a lot of things,” Rhys replied without expounding. “Mostly in Eplas though.”
“Thought I caught a bit of an accent.”
“People have told me that afore,” Rhys agreed clenching his jaw.
“You keep strange company,” Officer Tutor noticed.
“Gish are common on Eplas.”
“Was talking of the Cofol lass.”
Ah, you’re a smartass. Probably you have a relative in the army already? High up the hierarchy. Um.
“She wanted to see Asturia. The weather forced us to stop here,” Rhys replied vaguely and the officer nodded with another glance at Selussa.
“A wise decision. Stay out of trouble Mister Rhys,” he finally said eloquently and marched his patrol across the wide street to the Library building that was still under construction.
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Looking for an unknown needle in a busy and chaotic haystack, Rhys thought a little peeved, cleaning his muddy boots at the steps of the hostel. The town a giant construction site. Parts of it fully finished and functional, other portions still in the planning phase. Everything neatly arranged though and most of its streets finished, already paved with stone tiles, marble or gravel.
Selussa resting her back on the corner wall of the hostel, lapels of her leather coat raised to combat the cold, arms crossed and a leg folded at the knee. She was talking with Flix that had a warm dress on and a scarf covering his head under a large hat. The Gish was smoking his pipe.
“You should try it,” Flix said puffing smoke rings out.
“Is this a Gish thing?” Selussa asked keeping her voice low. “Match-making?”
“Sex is fun and all Gish enjoy it.”
“I’ve work to do for the Guild.”
“Ralnor sent you here to open your wings and see the realm,” Flix argued and Rhys frowned keeping his distance to better eavesdrop. “Forget about loss and peel off life’s layers.”
Bullshit he did.
“I don’t see him like that,” Selussa retorted defensively.
“Flix thinks you do. We pick from our basket in the end. Or mess up a job.”
“He’s obnoxious.”
“He has a good cock to balance it out and a soft spot for you,” Flix countered and Rhys narrowed his eyes. Both the Gish and Selussa catching him standing there under the porch looking all weird.
“I’ve rent us a room,” Rhys snapped gruffly. “It was the only fucking room available, so I want no lip or smart comments about it. Two beds so we’ll sleep in turn to make it work. We’re here to locate the bounty hunter so we can’t stay inside fooling around all warm and fuzzy!”
“I need a bath and a meal,” Selussa replied casually and pushed herself off the wall.
“I need a chamomile,” Flix added fixing his hair with a hand and walked after her without paying attention to the seething Rhys. “My throat is sore.”
“Fine. I’ll start first,” Rhys grunted as they both sauntered past him full of sass to enter the hostel. “Head to Praetor’s Square to check on faces and sniff them out.”
The skies roared over his head and a distant thunder was heard. A moment later rain started coming down and a scowling Rhys remained under the porch looking at the hostel’s entrance. He waited for the weather to improve before venturing out, but it didn’t so he had to get wet yet again.
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Two hours later a thoroughly waterlogged and tired Rhys returned. He climbed the stairs to the first floor, paused at the corridor to remember which room was theirs and then cracked the door open. He found Selussa brushing her curling hair on the edge of the bed. The bath barrel at a corner having a pool of water splashed at its base and soaking the floorboards.
“The Gish?” Rhys rustled marching inside his eyes on the woman’s slightly rocking back and forth crossed leg. The skin slippery taut and spotless. A nice tattoo of a leaping black cat on her ankle for her Guild name. Dar Mori-Yaule.
Dar Eherdir’s girls had grown up.
Though granted one of them was dead.
“Went to look for the bounty hunter,” Selussa replied with a side-glance at his dirty clothes. She had a wet cotton towel on. The Cofol female had wrapped it tightly around her fit body but the stretched fabric provided nowhere near enough cover for the flesh available. “Rhys… where are you?”
Right here.
Fully committed.
“Mm,” Rhys grunted semi-snapping out of it. “The tattoo is more noticeable today.”
Selussa raised an eyebrow. “I’ve shaved my legs with your good dagger.” She raised an arm to show him her clean armpit. Rhys pursed his mouth. “Got the stink off of me.” Selussa added evocatively with a cute grimace.
You did.
Everything looked cute on her all of sudden and he couldn’t blame the plaguing weather or the venue.
Rhys run a tongue over his lips trying to think of something else other than diving in bed with her. It was a powerful rush this and he blinked once hard trying to get ahold of his faculties.
“Rhys?” Selussa queried invitingly and he could have been mistaken about the latter.
“Remember when I said that it was a mistake kissing you?” Rhys grunted and walked towards the bed, all muscles coiled like a spring ready to strike.
“Ahm… was it?” Selussa asked huskily and it could have been a trick to lull him into a trap but when Rhys pounced on the female assassin, she made no effort to resist him. They rolled feverishly on the bed all tangled up, a leg around his waist, moist curl of hair in his mouth, a hand massing a firm tit and Selussa’s ivory brush almost poking out his left eye, until they reached the side edge of the bed and crashed on the floor.
“Don’t stop,” a flushed Selussa hissed in Rhys’ sweaty face, her teeth biting at his lower lip and fingers pressing down at the half-breed’s carotid in a half-passionate half-lethal hold. Veins popping out and heart beating like a drum in his chest. Her body rocking on top of his, but Rhys was a fit guy and could take her weight with ease.
Still he would have preferred a bit more control, not that he was about to complain and Rhys could still use both his hands now parked on her meaty hips, to guide most of the action in between rugged breaths. The latter a bit of a problem.
“Oi… aye… ah, stay there!” Selussa screamed passionately and Rhys croaked something ineligible practically pinned on the messy bed. Ogling eyes staring at the round bouncing naughty breasts over his face until his stare strayed in the midst of their lovemaking upon hearing a splashing sound coming from somewhere inside the room.
An out of place sound.
Other than the squelching noise of his engorged cock getting abused by the determined Selussa that is.
Flix was cleaning his feet in the used bathtub, plopping them inside one after the other. The Gish gave him a meaningful wink seeing his stare. Oras shadows! Then Flix jumped down lithely and used a towel to dry them up before slotting them in his small winter boots carefully. He then reached for his pipe, red-rimmed eyes returning to watch them fucking their brains out on the hostel’s creaking bed.
“Come on… just a little…” Selussa squealed a hoarse complaint and cracked an eye open feeling him unresponsive inside her. “Rhys… what…?”
“Ergh,” Rhys croaked still getting strangled in her steely grip.
“Are you… fucking serious? The hells are ye looking at? I’m over here!”
“The Gish…”
“Ugh?” Selussa gasped.
“Flix…”
“Fuck her!”
It’s a he dear.
Of sorts.
“He-he,” Flix chuckled. “I missed live shows so much.”
“Eeuh…” Selussa gasped relaxing her grip. Face sweaty and eyes unfocused but slowly working their way back to the present.
“He’s here,” a still very much aroused Rhys explained and the female leaped off of his cock with a yelp, into a backwards somersault that flashed all her anatomy to the gawking assassin leader. Off the edge of the bed to land on the floor with a curse, leaving Rhys still laying there at full mast.
“Sister is nimble as a cat indeed,” Flix commented appreciatively blowing smoke out of his nostrils. The room smelling of soap, sex and drugs.
Life in the plaguing country comes with weird benefits and unexpected customs, Rhys thought sourly and raised his head from the pillow to glare at the mirthful Gish.
“Couldn’t you wait a couple of more hours?” He grunted and Flix shrugged his shoulders.
“Hours? Aww. You want help relieving that?” The Gish teased pointing the lit pipe at his still hard phallus. “Ye feel light-headed now don’t you?”
“Flix!” Selussa hissed angrily.
“I’m good,” Rhys replied confidently and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Just to make it less awkward he grabbed the pillow and covered his private parts pressing down on his cock. The latter leaving the Cofol woman the only fully exposed person inside the room.
Rhys had no qualms at all about the latter though.
None.
“Have you ever seen a lovelier Cofol?” Flix asked casually and this was a tricky question for sure so Rhys decided not to answer it while Selussa cursed the Gish’s lineage and homeland. She then walked to the barrel and jumped inside frustrated with another yelping curse as the water was now cold as fuck.
A miffed Selussa glared his way from inside the barrel and Rhys turned the smirk into a thoughtful expression.
“Answer the query Rhys.” She snarled warningly and Rhys decided it wasn’t worth the risk to chance it with the full truth.
“I haven’t,” Rhys replied in a sober manner. “Not that I remember.”
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“I found an assassin,” Flix told them casually some minutes later, Rhys now wearing his pants and a shirt. Selussa shivering in a fresh towel, had just returned from closing and baring their window.
“Our guy?”
“No. A member of the League,” Flix replied and Rhys furrowed his brows.
“Bullshit,” Selussa griped still pissed with the Gish.
“How would you know?” Rhys asked. “I spent years in Eplas and didn’t encounter anyone.”
“Bathing by the river he was. Covered in glyphs.” Flix explained with a stupid leer. “I caught him by complete accident?”
“You’re doing a lot of that,” Rhys commented sourly. “You should check it out.”
“It’s called being lucky. Pretty people are favored by Luthos.” Flix replied with fake modesty.
Right.
“Any sign of Hik?”
“No, but it is strange seeing a Slayer so far from Eplas.”
“What’s strange about it?” Selussa asked and walked around the hostel’s bedroom to pick up her garbs. Every time she stooped at the waist to pick a garment from the floor the alluring sight gave Rhys pause.
“They are sort of a cult and not a guild,” Rhys explained taking over from the puffing out smoke Flix.
“Flix is in a cult,” Selussa retorted and lost the towel in the attempt to squeeze into her leather pants.
“Nym read about them when she was young,” Flix said in his half-drugged state. “They are run by an Alafern. Or more.”
Selussa paused buttoning her shirt and looked at them. “Seriously? Rhys?”
“Ahm,” Rhys stalled not fully paying attention to the conversation.
“An Alafern?” Selussa repeated with a taunting grin.
“Ehem…” What the fuck was… ah, of course. “Yeah that’s a bullshit tale Flix. Magic, mythic creatures of the dark—”
“We use spells,” Selussa cut him off. “What the allhells are you talking about?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“We do,” Rhys agreed a little perturbed.
“You’ve met the witch.”
“I did,” Rhys agreed again.
“So, what’s your argument?” Flix asked seriously.
“I didn’t want to argue!” Rhys blasted them and got up frustrated. “Got carried away in this talk for no plaguing reason! Gods damnit! Enough! What does a vampire-loving cult member being here has to do with our guy Flix?” He asked full of righteous indignation.
“He heard about the contract?” Flix replied with a casual query.
“Of course he did!” Rhys roared and Selussa opened her eyes unsure where he was going with this. Rhys was going nowhere. “So…” He paused to scratch his head. “How does it help us?”
“I’ll follow him and see whether he knows more than we do,” Flix explained and put out his pipe.
“Good.” Rhys smacked his lips suddenly feeling very thirsty. “We’ll work the town ourselves.” He added and puffed out.
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“I hate the cold Rhys,” Selussa hissed the next morning as they were loitering at the edge of the market. Her new fur coat making her appear twice as big as before.
That’s a cow’s worth of leather sugarcane.
“Are you cold now?”
“No. But I’m heavy?”
Rhys glanced her way appreciatively. “Heavy looks good on you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Selussa snapped.
“It was a compliment dear.”
Rhys stared at the still under construction Governor’s palace in the distance thoughtfully.
“The Baron will cough up a fine parch of land for this business,” Rhys explained.
“I don’t feel like doing the Baron’s bidding,” Selussa griped. “He cheated his way into the guild.”
“Yeah, but still… I can see you enjoying retirement amidst the palm trees, warm breeze on your skin and near a city like Novesium,” Rhys insisted. “You and I could live cozily there.”
“Who told you I want to live with you?” Selussa queried.
“Are you backing down?” Rhys barked gruffly. “Ye squeezed so hard back there my cock still hurts! Almost strangled me out of breath. Hah!”
“Fuck’s sake, can you keep your voice down?” Selussa protested looking about them.
“You want this too much and I’m here to tell you it’s not in vain… you won’t stand alone dear,” Rhys told her meaningfully.
“Wow. Where do you get all this confidence?” Selussa shook her head amazed.
“Think of the warm sun over our heads, sandy beaches, thick shade and cold fruit juices,” Rhys continued raising a thick brow teasingly.
“Fine, this part I like,” she admitted with a deep sigh. “Nattas is a shitty neighbor though. I can’t be owned by him Rhys.”
“You won’t be. Fuck Nattas. Just tell me you’re in it with me.”
“Can I think about it?”
“What for?” Rhys cut her off and started heading for the Guardhouse. “You’re going to say yes.”
“Not all women like this kind of obnoxiousness wrapped in curt manners,” Selussa murmured behind his back and Rhys paused to wait for her to catch up with him.
“You are not like other women and you do,” Rhys told her. “Wanna know why dear?”
The Cofol woman rolled her eyes exasperated. “Why dear?”
“You want a man that plaguing means what he says,” Rhys retorted brusquely.
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The Lorian sergeant of the guard stared in Rhys’ face amused.
“What was the name again?”
“Rhys Vardran. I gave it at the gates.”
“Hmm. Well the governor is… you meant the Consul yes?”
“Sure.” Rhys agreed to speed him along.
“Well... he’s not here.”
“Can I talk with someone else?” Rhys asked with a grimace and Centurion Tutor entered the small office by a side door. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to the desk.
“Officer Tutor,” Rhys greeted him.
“Mister Rhys. Why do you want to see the Consul?”
“I understand he’s not here… it’s for a personal matter.”
“Prefect Durio is. Be more specific,” Tutor replied.
“I heard a friend of mine... a Lear Hik, might be around these parts,” Rhys grunted a little frustrated.
Tutor pushed back on his chair to gaze at the flushed, heavily dressed Selussa. “These parts as in…”
“Storm’s Rest.”
“I’ll have to check but the name doesn’t ring a bell,” Tutor replied with a smirk.
Motherfucker.
“Can you check now?”
“No. I finished for the day.”
“Can I speak with Prefect Durio?”
“He’s inspecting the road to the quarries. Come back tomorrow after noon,” Tutor offered tauntingly.
“I’ll see to do that,” Rhys rustled with a scowl.
The young officer slapped his hands at the top of his thighs quite pleased. “Anything else Mister Rhys?”
Rhys shook his head negatively.
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A furious Rhys marched out of the small guardhouse clenching his fists. He stood at the start of the massive Praetor’s Square and stared at the market stands and the first floor of the Museum that was still under construction across from them. The gigantic granite horse statue at the far edge of the square standing above everything else.
“You’re being too aggressive with them,” Selussa noticed.
“I was getting arse-fucked in there,” he retorted and noticed a man wearing a legion’s outfit and cuirass, over a blue tunic approaching them walking briskly. “Shit. Play the innocent.”
“Eh?”
“Mister Rhys,” the unknown officer greeted when he reached them. “I’m Cominius Paetus. I serve with LID.”
“Aha,” Rhys replied guardedly.
“You talked about Lear Hik back there.”
“I did?”
“I heard you quite clearly.”
“I don’t remember you even been in the office.”
“I was in the next room,” Paetus explained with a strained leer. “The door was open.”
“I now see why I missed you.”
“Hik is a person of interest to the Department,” Paetus continued disregarding Rhys’ mocking tone. “You are aware there is a bounty offered by certain circles against him.”
“Heard about it.”
“You claim he’s your friend.”
“We worked a couple of jobs together on Eplas. It’s been years now,” Rhys said and Paetus pressed his mouth, casting a glance at the silent heavily-dressed Selussa. “I’m here to help him if I can officer Paetus.” Rhys added.
“Lear Hik isn’t here,” Paetus informed them. “We’d appreciate any news about his whereabouts mister Rhys. Discreetly.”
Rhys nodded. “Rest assured officer Paetus, I’ll report to you anything I find out.”
“Good.” Paetus pulled at his left earlobe thoughtfully. “You guys didn’t happen to be in Aegium in the summer?”
“Never been there,” Rhys retorted brusquely. “She doesn’t speak Jelin Common.”
“Uhm.” Paetus murmured, gave them a curt nod, and then turned around to return to the guardhouse before the Governor’s Palace. Rhys’ gaze followed the officer but caught out of the right corner of his eye a reedy tall figure wrapped in a long coat looking their way from the market.
“Walk towards the museum and wait there for Flix to appear. It’s almost early noon,” Rhys told Selussa. “I need to visit the market.”
Rhys reached the alley between the wooden stands, circled around it and then cut through the middle of the market but couldn’t find their stalker despite the relatively few patrons walking about. A bit of snow had fallen during the night and the weather was chilly. He reached the edge, where the square opened up again towards the two meters tall platform that the stone horse was standing on and gave up.
Rhys crossed the tiled boulevard that split the square in two minutes later and headed towards the Museum’s entrance empty-handed. The building wasn’t officially open yet and wouldn’t be for a while as it was missing at least another two floors according to the locals. The working crews finishing up for the day and Selussa standing at its north corner next to the mounted Gish.
“What was it?” Selussa asked him when he approached them.
“Someone curious but slippery,” Rhys replied and eyed the tired-looking old Gish. “You disappeared again.”
“Followed the assassin you mean,” Flix replied in that annoying manner, half his face hidden under a large hat. “Found Lear Hik I did.”
“Right. Where?”
“In the woods. A dozen kilometers from the town.”
“And?” Rhys asked impatiently.
“I helped him kill the assassin,” Flix replied and stared at the market’s stands longingly.
“Hey,” Rhys grunted to get his attention. “Why in Oras black heart did you do that?”
Flix frowned comically. “Standard Imperial mandate.”
“We are not working for Wetull Flix.”
“Speak for yourself Rhys.” Flix retorted.
“Wetull is run by a crazy motherfucker now,” Rhys fired back. “You got all mixed up in the head old fool. We are after Hik for crying out loud!”
Flix stood back on the large –for him- saddle. “Your bounty hunter stays in the woods. The assassin managed to locate him, killed his friend and I intervened.”
“Great. How are we going to find him again?”
“Hik has friends here I believe. More animals,” Flix replied. “I checked the horses. Few supplies for such a big journey and no proof.”
“Proof of what?” Selussa asked curious.
“Proof of death,” Flix replied with Rhys elucidating to help her out.
“A thumb with a ring on it, a head or piece of a large skin with a tattoo—”
“I get the picture Rhys,” Selussa hissed cutting him off.
Eh, I shouldn’t have mentioned the skin part.
“He wouldn’t return to Cartagen without something.” Flix continued. “What Rhys said and maybe even a witness.”
“Like his friend that died?” Rhys grunted. “Back to our horses’ lass. We’ll all walk there as a matter of fact.” He decided and reached to grab the reins from Flix’s horse. “We’ll then head out… uh.”
Rhys stopped as Flix had shoved a boot on his chest and pushed him back.
“Lear Hik,” the Gish said and pointed with a small arm at two riders heading down Lucius’ Boulevard.
“Where? Are you sure?” Rhys grunted twisting about but by the time he did spot the riders backs himself Flix had already gone after them.
“The horses are in the market’s stable,” Selussa reminded the frustrated assassin that stared at the galloping away Gish, bopping up and down on his much larger horse, a small hand holding that hat from blowing off of his head.
“I’m right behind you dear,” Rhys rustled through his clenched teeth and hurried after the fur-covered Cofol female assassin.
-
Two hours later
Storm’s Rest
River District
This is a much cheaper hostel in this ever expanding boring town, another district built beyond the two bridges over Framtond’s tributary connecting it with the Groin. The wooden one erected by Lesia’s engineers no less during the battles fought here the previous years and the locals frequently called it with the country’s name.
Each bridge around these parts having its own private name steeped with history.
Lesia’s Bridge.
Cato’s Bridge.
Kaeso’s crossing for the stone one.
A skinny, rat-faced man exited the front entrance of the hostel just as Rhys approached it. Selussa and Flix taking the back way, with the woman leaving her newly bought fur-jacket with their horses. The hooded Rhys kept walking towards the door and the shifty man resting on the porch keeping a neutral expression while scanning the street.
The man’s eyes stopped on his face for a moment, went away and then they returned as if alarmed, nervous grin sporting a gap where a tooth was missing. What the actual fuck? Rhys thought sensing the man was about to act for no reason and the next moment he did by turning around to get inside the hostel again.
Rhys had moved instinctively, cleared the four steps of the porch with a leap and pressed a hand on the man’s back between the shoulder blades. He guided him away from the door in an angled course and heaved hard sending the man to crash on the wall with a bang. Rhys grabbed the rebounding patron by the nape and smashed his head on the wall a second time, then used both arms to half-walk half-drag him inside the hostel.
They entered the poorly-lit hall that served as a restaurant for the patrons and Rhys found a chair by the doors to deposit the unresponsive man down. The room empty but for a light coming from a door behind the counter. Rhys pushed his soaked hood back and then headed there unhurriedly, his intention to wait on a tall barstool for whomever worked the counter.
He reached for a knife just in case, but heard creaking from the internal stairs and a heavy-boned dude came from the second floor, scarred and wrinkled face visible where a wild grey beard didn’t cover. A longsword strapped on his waist, another over his broad back. Badly stitched leather coat and muddy boots. Several other weapons hanging from a well-used harness. Another Lorian.
The second, much-older guy paused briefly upon spotting Rhys by the counter and then his cunning eyes turned to the unresponsive man collapsed on the chair. With a creaking sound the first man slid down and then hit the floor with a dull thud.
Eh.
Rhys got up to better face the newcomer that had gotten a monstrous folded razor out of a sheath and held it with his left hand. At least a foot of blade on that darn thing.
“Who was the woman?” Rhys asked listening for any sounds of fighting coming from the upper floor.
“A half-breed like you,” the man rustled and took a big step forward narrowing his eyes. “Reckon you don’t work for the bank.”
“Never had really,” Rhys replied casually and showed the bounty hunter his straight-bladed knife. “Whose head is in the bag?”
“Laudus. Reckon you didn’t know him also.”
Rhys nodded. “I know you think you have an advantage here but you really don’t,” he told the belligerent-looking Hik. “Just to get it out of the way. You are Lear Hik right?”
“You are a Silent Servant?” Lear asked, his right hand touching the pommel of his sword.
“It’s a name,” Rhys admitted pursing his mouth. “You killed a couple of people mister Hik. Probably more than a couple. Something got to give.”
“Laudus murdered the King’s brother,” Lear grunted. “I was tasked with finding him and bring the truth to the King. You work for some pretty nasty scum son.”
“Um. No argument there. Was the Baron involved?” Rhys asked with a frown.
“Not really. Maybe you should walk away.”
Rhys cracked a smile. “You darn fool. I’m trying to throw you a bone,” he rustled and heard commotion from upstairs. Lear heard it as well but kept his eyes on Rhys. A moment later Flix slid down the stairs guard rail, leaped over at the end of the wild ride, did a double somersault mid-air and landed on two feet with a short groan of pain.
Rhys glared at the grimacing Gish that got his pipe out and slotted it in his painted mouth with shaking hands.
“You,” Lear grunted half-turning to look at the flicking a firestone over the pipe’s bowl Flix. A fat spark dropping and igniting the ball of Redleaf.
“Much better you look now,” Flix replied croakily, face hidden behind a cloud of smoke. “Your friends are well too.”
Lear clenched his jaw angrily and then glanced at the still peeved with the Gish’s shenanigans Rhys. “He works for you?”
Flix snorted a little insulted.
“He’s with another outfit,” Rhys admitted and glared at the smoking Gish. “You’ve left her alone.”
“She’s a great shot and already scared the pants off of the boy,” Flix retorted ambiguously and turned to gaze at the conflicted bounty hunter. “You owe me a life mister Hik.”
“I don’t owe you shite Gish.” Lear grunted. “You spared me to lead you to my group.”
“I did. But still I did save you. So how about it? Hmm?” Flix argued in a teasing manner with plenty of flirting mixed in and sucked at the pipe smugly. The drug helping alleviate some of the pain caused by his stupid earlier acrobatics.
Lear crooked his mouth. “I’m listening,” he rustled looking at the Gish.
“Speak with him,” Flix said and pointed the pipe at Rhys. “He’s reasonable.”
“I am?” Rhys snapped taken unawares. “In what way?”
Flix puffed smoke out of his tiny nostrils. “The girl’s heart is not in the job. Of same blood but not the same. Assisting others is her first priority. Can’t fake that. First a Queen to be and then a King that is. The wrong sister you bedded, I think.”
Rhys grimaced trying to make sense of the Gish’s innate rumblings and when he did, the assassin took a step back, a tick distorting the left side of his face. Then he stared at Hik’s timeworn scowling face and groaned in frustration.
“You’re technically a murderer.” He told Lear.
“Only for the girl,” Lear admitted brusquely. “But I couldn’t let her live. She was too far gone. But if its justification you’re seeking then know I have killed plenty more I reckon I could have spared just by not following orders.”
“The Baron signed off on a fantastic piece of land,” Rhys murmured.
“The idea was birthed because of the girl and not the other way around silly man. The land itself is worthless to you if it’s empty. What makes one place better than the other to a lone soul?” Flix replied sadly. “You’ll just keep moving. Better land is always beyond the horizon, like illusions in the desert.”
Oras shadows. Darn drugs went into the Gish’s brain and he turned philosophical!
“You’ll leave the Baron alone,” Rhys told the watching them a little perturbed Lear.
“Did he use the assassins at the wedding? You just corroborated his deep involvement with your Guild—”
How thick is this fucking dude?
“Are you fucking serious?” Rhys snapped stopping him. “He wasn’t involved in no wedding nor does he have any meaningful connection to the Guild. Not anymore. He knows a couple of members that’s it.”
Lear set his jaw stubbornly.
“Hey!” Rhys grunted. “Snap out of it! Stick to the fucking script and get yourself to Cartagen. Leave the Baron and the Guild out of yer thoughts. Good grief! Don’t you think you’re in enough trouble as it is?”
“You’ll step aside,” Lear finally said after contemplating it for a while. “Why?”
“Nothing strange about it. It’s always a possibility,” Rhys replied gruffly not fully certain it was the correct approach. “If the reasoning is convoluted it may backfire in your face. In this case, I don’t believe the Baron should have gotten involved and as for the king’s killers… well frankly, I don’t give a damn about them.”
“The League will though. They value their members,” Flix commented semi-mysteriously and then sauntered to the tall barstool to climb on it. Seeing as it was much taller than him, Flix jumped on the counter first lithely and then sort of walked on the stool that way. When he found a good spot to park, the Gish crossed his legs, pulling at the dress to show some skin and stooping over the counter rang the bell to call the innkeeper.
Once.
Twice.
Many more times.
“The League…” Lear rustled after they both watched Flix’s silly actions for a while.
“Lar O’ Talas Dagnir,” Rhys said in Imperial and whistled for Selussa to bring the bounty hunter’s friends down. “The League of Forsaken Slayers. It’s a cult to some far gone mythical creatures from another realm.”
“Their assassin is dead,” Lear noted watching a miffed Edge coming down the stairs, followed by a pant-less sheepish Mark and a crossbow-carrying Selussa.
“Kid opened the door thinking the Cofol was an exotic harlot served wit the room. Hah! As if this is Asturia!” Edge griped very annoyed. He did pause though to glance at the frowned Selussa apologetically. “Sorry slanted-eyed lass. Nothing whorish about yer sweet arse.”
“Ahm. Thanks… I guess?” Selussa retorted unsure.
“Was it still light when you faced him?” Rhys asked with a sign for her to lower the weapon. You stumble on the steps, nervous finger clenches on the trigger and you’ve just put a bolt in the one-armed lad’s skull. Kill him dead as a crippled dog by the sides of the road put out of its misery. Which probably is seen differently by his friends and then all this lengthy talk might as well been for fucking naught, he thought sourly.
“Mostly,” Lear retorted eyeing him with distrust.
“An apprentice. They are good,” Rhys said with a grimace thinking of the mummified figure at the market. “But far from the real thing according to my tutor.”
“Is he any god darn better?” Lear asked slotting the razor in its sheath again.
Rhys beheld the querying expression on the approaching Selussa’s face for a moment and then gave her a reassuring nod that made her smile relieved. There goes the rich plaguing golden meadow down the drain. All them palm trees and the turquoise warm south waters, the assassin thought sadly and then gave Lear his answer.
“Yeah, but this doesn’t make him any less of a monster.”
And by the way, she’s the right blasted sister Gish!
-
> Nine months earlier
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> ‘And the fair Princess Abisare who was always close with the well-respected Prince Lidagulis ‘The Eyeless’ convinced the gloomy Prince Dirsamis to support them against the vile Prince Atraharsis when the stars changed their position on the sky. The Doyens of the Alafern cast Atraharsis and his rotten minions away. When he returned twice as determined, they tossed his broken body on the burning sands and watched the unforgiving sun eating his flesh away. Scattered the ashes over running water and mixed the crashed bones with cement, but a rumor persisted in the streets of ancient Nigbau ever since. The bones hadn’t been correctly numbered or accounted for.’
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> Here lies the key… The blood whispered in his ears.
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> Serapis raised his eyes to stare at the fearful Cofol apprentice reading from the heavily-biased old scrolls. Long fingernail scratching deep gouges at the surface of the mahogany table inside the cold but well-lit crypt.
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> “A lowly pirate,” he crackled raspingly and the apprentice started shaking. Abatis blinking once from his spot and closing the book he was reading. “With a dog.”
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> “The dog… came back with him,” the Cofol said in a pleading voice. “Bekare wrote it here. A note to… eh, for the next archivist. It’s been thirty years master.”
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> “Where is Bekare?” Serapis asked Abatis and the still human assassin apprentice grimaced.
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> “She traveled across the plains,” Abatis finally replied getting up. “Must have reached Jelin by now.”
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> The thread glows in the dark… The blood whispered hopefully.
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> “What’s in Jelin?” Serapis asked with his coffin deep voice and let go of the shrunken, crashed girl that collapsed in a pile at his feet.
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> “More Aken?” Abatis shrugged his shoulders. “A lot of humans.”
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> You are still one boy.
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> “You shall travel there,” Serapis decided. “See what she has discovered and I shall look into this… pirate’s dog myself.”
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> -
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> Last month of 194 NC
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> Scalding Sea
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> Ticu songs… the Blood whispered as Serapis woke up from his slumber. He reached with an emaciated hand and pushed the heavy metal lid open. The oval sarcophagus the only cargo inside the dark hold of the old brig.
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> He slowly got out and immediately turned into a shadow, rushed through a crack at the locked hatch and materialized behind an inebriated sailor at the top of the stairs that led to the soaked deck. Serapis ripped the man’s neck open with claw-like fingers, chewed through flesh and broke the veins with his teeth, slurping at the blood greedily. It got in his nose, splashed on his wrinkled skin and dripped down his chin. Filled his lungs and stomach so much he couldn’t handle it.
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> Serapis retched some of it back out, now black instead of red and then scooped it up with his fingers to smear it on his face. The blood healing the wrinkled skin and repairing a couple of holes at his sunken cheeks. He took a big breath of the clear air to unclog his lungs and then went back to feasting again.
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> Hours later the lights of the port had increased in volume as the ship had approached its destination and the sailor’s drained body had become a tasty treat for the singing Ticu that accompanied the brig.
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> Lipases had made certain the remaining crew had finished disembarking his sarcophagus from the cargo hold before dismissing them. They placed it inside a private warehouse belonging to a local smuggler easily persuaded to look the other way.
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> The Cofol apprentice waited for him to wear a clean outfit and then they both headed for the closed carriage waiting for them. Serapis entered the carriage with Lipases climbing next to the Lorian driver. He found the unoccupied side of the leather couch and tended his unwrinkled, ring adorned hand to the female seating across from him. With her delicate lines, slanted Cofol eyes, cherubic face and shiny long black hair, Bekare didn’t look a day over twenty years.
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> A picture frozen for an eternity, just like the last time she’d breathed like a human. What the other Princes shunned, Atraharsis permitted for his disciples.
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> The female’s cold lips kissed his hand reverently, pulled back and closed the door shut at their carriage.
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> “How far is Alden?” Serapis asked, the glow of his eyes casting shadows on Bekare’s face.
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> “An hour. The streets are empty,” she replied.
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> “Any word from Abatis?”
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> “He took a contract from the Mclean. 2000 gold Eagles.”
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> Ah.
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> “Why allow it?” Serapis rustled.
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> “I thought you did,” Bekare said calmly.
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> Great risk he takes… The blood whispered. For this is also the Servants contract.
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> “Hmm. Foolish. He was close to earning the blood,” Serapis said.
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> “He just wrote me,” Bekare noted her expression unchanged, for the Alafern kept everything inside.
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> “Gold attracts folk of notoriety and fame. Attracts all manner of killers.” He grimaced. “Some of them quite unnatural and perverted in their ways.”
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> “I see.” Bekare replied and stood back. She reached with a dainty hand to draw the small curtain and peek outside the window. “Any word on the prince?”
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> “Many tales in the pirate ports,” Serapis replied. “Of a one-eyed immortal dog and gilded bones hidden in a cave. Treasure, murder and the touch of Others on the walls. Ancient halls filled with corpses. The trail turned cold near Wetull.”
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> “You think he’ll have visited the land of the Zilan?” Bekare asked evenly. “Why take the chance? Has his torn soul turned insane?”
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> “Perhaps, but in his forsaken madness he sought out a touch of magic. Any kind,” Serapis said and pressed the back of his head on the soft leather. He closed his glowing eyes to work with his thoughts. Half an hour later he added to the expecting, silent and unmoving Bekare. “You might need to investigate this rich contract. Leave the Aken for now. Find out what the humans are up to in Jelin.”
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