The night felt as cold as the day had been nice and warm. Fran rubbed his hands as he crouched by the corner outside an inn called The Good Governor, the kind of inn where you’d pay 300 siu per night for a mattress full of goose feathers and a warm, heavy blanket. It was the price of a small sheep, an extravagant luxury reserved for rich traders and Imperial envoys. Urume Gulun had promised him four thousand siu for doing some acting that would help him recover the stolen mining map. Their objective was a man with long dark hair and bright green eyes.
“He goes by Scaoria, but I'm sure that isn’t his name. I wish I’d been as careful as the guild recommends, but explorers stealing from each other is so rare that the thought never entered my mind. We were sharing a room at the Dragon's City when he stole my map. It was safe in my dimension box, but Scaoria knew the songline and found a way to steal my key. I fell asleep and he let a thief into our room. Thief’s hands is what girls used to call a good lover back in my hometown. Because they know how to use them. I kept the key inside my clothes, right against my back, but somehow the thief found it and stole it without skipping a beat.”
The explorer shook his head in disbelief at his friend’s betrayal.
“That was a month ago. Now he's here to meet some Imperial Mandarin, surely to use the map for access to the capital of Cheng'An. I can’t go into details, but the mine is not too far from an Imperial outpost, and the area is nearly depopulated. A company of Imperial legionnaires could hold that place easily. The profit would be astronomical. Even the most jaded Mandarin in Cheng'An will realize it. Can you understand my pain, Dhenn? I can't sleep, I can’t eat, I can't smile. I don't know what I'll do if that traitor becomes a Duke thanks of my hard work of years. Please help me. I'll pay you generously, you'll be making the God of Justice smile, and you'll get enough money to get yourself some decent equipment. Adventuring isn't cheap.”
How much should he believe? Fran had his doubts, but Urume made a promise that tilted the balance and convinced Fran to agree: There would be no blood. A group of local heavies, paid for with the last of Urume's coin, would immobilize Scaoria, allowing Urume to recover his precious map. “I'm sure he keeps it on his body,” he'd said. “A man like that won't trust anybody or any magical objects.”
The inn's door opened and two men exited, their voices quiet in the night. The inn's lamp shone on them. The first one smiled a crooked smile and had distrustful eyes. The other held his arms close to his bod. His blue hood hid most of his face, but not the feature that Urume had instructed Fran to look out for: a bright blue scar over his nose, the result of damage by a magic weapon. A permanent mark of shame.
Lights, camera, action. Fran whistled and approached the inn, keeping some distance with his targets. He only moved toward them at the last second. Fran kept his feet pointing to the inn and turned his head only.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I see you come from that inn. Is that The Rudder and Wind? I'm meeting a captain there for a job. Captain Adux of the Twin Mermaids, that's the ship.”
Fran's mark remained silent, but the other one spoke.
“That's The Good Governor. The sign is visible even in this light'
Fran crossed his arms.
“And what do you mean by that, friend? Not a man in a hundred can read. Are you one of those arrogant sages that destroys their eyes reading book after book? You're ugly enough to be.”
The mark whispered something. Let's go, probably. His companion nodded. Time to up the ante.
“Are you ugly like your father or ugly like your mother?”
The writing was on the wall now. Scaoria grabbed his companion by the arm and implored they leave. He still had a chance. Nobody was around, so maybe the man’s honor wouldn't be hurt enough to make him start a fight. Fran couldn’t let that happen.
“You probably don't know your father,” he continued, and then grabbed his crotch with his left hand, 'but every father knew your mother.”
That did it. The man shouted as many obscenities as came to his mind and then some. His mouth wasn't quick enough for the insults he wanted to scream at the stranger. Then, the unmistakable sound of a blade leaving its sheath. And then, unexpectedly, the spine-chilling sound of bones breaking when two huge arms caught the man's sword hand and twisted it mercilessly. The man fell to the ground in agony.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Scaoria turned, his mouth open in shock. A blade emerged from the dark rushing at his neck. He leaped back, saving his life, but he tripped and fell on the floor. Four huge men emerged from the darkness. Not local thugs, but steely-eyed mercenaries with full armor, swords and axes. Bloodthirsty savages out to play for fun and gold.
Fran became paralyzed. He'd been played for the newbie that he was. These men were going to kill Scaoria and his companion. He looked around for Urume in panic. There's no way he'd miss out on this. Somewhere in the Shadows, he was watching Fran, he was watching his enemies, and he was enjoying every moment.
The orc's death had been gnawing at Fran in the back of his head all day. Sure, there'd been no alternative, but he was still… a sentient creature, a living, intelligent being. And even if Mela was different and the sight of an Orc announced an enemy of all mankind, as everyone had assured him in the tavern, we should still avoid killing where possible.
Or being accomplices to injustice and betrayal, he thought. He couldn't know how much of Urume's story was a shameless invention. Definitely enough that Fran wouldn't be complicit in murder and fill his purse with blood money.
Fran wielded his scimitar, caught his breath, and for the second time on that day, ran towards an armed enemy to save a stranger’s life. He avoided a straight route to catch the closest assailant by surprise. A bronze armor covered his torso and a helmet his skull, but his lower body was all hairy legs and sandals. Fran held the scimitar with both hands and turned his body to generate more strength for the strike. The blade hit something, broke through, and a coarse scream rang in the night. He’d cut the tendons on the man’s right leg's and the thug's body fell to the floor. So did his sword.
Fran ran back into the darkness as the wounded man cried out “Enemies, enemies!” Fighting three more men was way beyond whatever ability he might have, so he went for a different line of action: Fight their minds.
“Halt before the Imperial army and the town guard! What the hell's going on here?” Fran shouted, trying to mimic the veteran's tone of the dwarf soldier. “Get at them, lads! Take them all!”
Perception turned into reality, or perhaps into wisdom. After all, how long would a thug's career last if he didn’t run at the first sight of the city guard? Their despicable type preyed on the weak and bowed to the strong.
The biggest thug, who probably wasn't human, took his wounded comrade in his arms and escaped as fast as a horse. Fran heard their weapons clinging away in the distance and smiled.
He approached the man with the broken arm, who was trying to pick himself up using his good arm.
Feet approached in the distance, and a voice screamed, “Make way for the Kliogan guard!” It was the dwarf's voice.
Distracted by the real guards, Fran didn’t notice a presence behind him until a moment too late and turned to the man in the blue hood holding a blade to his neck.
“A clever trick and a commendable change of heart,” he said. “But I have to know: You're not with the Imperials, right?”
Fran shook his head.
“Help me carry Suoton. We need to get out now. '
“I'm good,” said the other man. “Let's run.”
Fran's steps resounded in the streets. The other two men ran light as feathers despite being heavier than him. He wondered if that was part of an explorer’s training. The men turned every corner they met until Fran lost all sense of direction. Finally, they stopped in an alley as dark as a dragon's heart. Fran leaned against the wall with both hands and breathed heavily. The man with the magic scar stood impassible, assessing him.
“You helped us, but by Sima's tome that you owe as an explanation,” he said. “Urume hired you, didn't he?”
Fran nodded.
“That fucking snake!” said Suoton. “He'll never let go, Braris.”
“He promised there'd be no blood,” said Fran. “And that I'd be helping remedy an injustice.”
“Ha!”
“He told me you stole his map, a mining map that was the chance of a lifetime. He said you ruined him.”
Unlike his tense friend, Braris remained calm and barely nodded. His strong jaw, serene chesnut eyes and poised demeanor suggested a leader of men, not an explorer seeking a horizon forever out of reach.
“Urume's life is a serpentine hall of lies. I've known him for far too long and gave him too many chances. He repays kindness with treachery and forgiveness with rancor. Despite everything, I never thought he'd try to kill a fellow guild member.”
“We need to leave, Braris. The cart awaits.”
“Just a moment, my friend. What's your name?”
“Dhenn.”
“This story isn't over, Dhenn, and I'm afraid that you have as much of a role to play on this stage as we do. For now, Suoton and I are heading back to the Dragon City. You have my gratitude for your courage and help. You made a mistake I've made myself in the past, so I cannot blame you too much.”
“Can I go with you?”
“No,” said Suoton.
Braris shared a knowing look with Fran. His friend just had his arm broken because of Fran's deception. Building trust would take time.
“We can meet again if you visit Azgadal in the next two weeks. We'll be staying at an inn called The Compass. Don't bother using our names. We won't be sharing those with anybody until this matter is resolved. Urume is resentful and cruel, and you let him down tonight. Sleep with an eye open, Dhenn. You must join us at the Dragon City if you want to feel peace again, or Urume will return to your life years later, decades later, with a hateful flame in his heart that the waters of time cannot quench. Until then, good night.”
The pair ran away and soon disappeared into the night, leaving a worried Fran behind them.
Suddenly, a pain took over his stomach and Fran fell to his knees. His head felt dizzy, his feet weak and his arms sore. The white-walled houses of Kliogos vanished as Fran’s eyes closed against his will.