“We live in strange times, dear innkeeper.” Ethan expressed his feelings about smashing chairs on drunkards to render them unconscious. “They cannot even observe. Can’t they realize that it’s the basis of combat?” There were three thugs and two broken chairs on the floor, yet the victim was safe and sound.

“Not everyone can distinguish ordinary people from Vanguard Assassins.” Said the innkeeper hoping that no more damage would be done to his property.

“Have you ever heard of natural selection?”

“Yes. I overheard a priest and an official.”

“This was an example of that. Can you give me a bottle of whiskey, please? It is getting late.”

“Yes, of course. Thirty Vitality Tokens, please.”

“Are you familiar with the concept ‘Vanguard Assassin’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let me tell you, that if you try to conceal my target again, I will cut off your finger one by one, and then I’ll carve your eyes out with them. I have been granted the right to act in the name of the Paragon, and he does not like dishonest people.” It was a bit harsh to say these sentences, but he was told to impose fear on disobedient citizens. The way he conducted his bounties was discrete and indiscernible. “I’ll give you thirty-five, the plus is for your frankness.” He smashed the tokens on the bar.

“Yes, sir, thank you.” He muttered in fear. Only state-employed assassins were allowed to kill, mostly to remove the disloyal scum, but if they were endangered, they were free to unleash a berserk. These murderers were fostered to be organic machines, showing no regret or disgrace after slaughtering whole settlements. Yet only three of them remained. They were the masters of melee weapons, including daggers and swords, some preferred long range weapons like pistols and bows. All of them were given equipment resisting radioactivity since most of their weapons emitted radiation to surely remove their targets from the living. Their armour consisted of lead, carbon fibers, and a light but strong material to balance the weight and protection. This uniform was painted black and dark purple which Ethan hated the most.

“I am glad you understand. I am searching for a person called Fisting Freddie. I heard he was near the Northern border. He did inconvenient things to people… or I imagine. My mission is to ‘educate’ someone close by and I heard about this guy.”

“He arrived yesterday.”

“Can you show the way?”

“He is in the second room of the first floor.”

“If the Tedious Three awakes from their slumber, please tell them to fuck off.”

“Definitely.”

Silently climbing the ramshackle that the innkeeper called stairs, was almost impossible to mere peasants, yet he was trained not to be bothered by unfitted problem like this. He hopped up without a sound, which was done by analysing the structure, revealing the spot, where he could minimize unnecessary creaks. Of course, some footwork was also required to reduce the screeches to the necessary lowest value.

After gathering information, he knew there was a slim chance to defeat his opponent in hand-to-hand combat, so he tied him up while he was sleeping.

“You know, if it was not for you, I would have sent you back to your Merchants without your private parts, scum.” Declare the assassin when his captive awoke.

“How do you know that I am affiliated with them?”

“I see your ring and a dead girl by your bed, who has bruises that typically caused by boxers from the North.”

“Who the fuck are you? Tell me. I want to remember your name after I crush you like a maggot.”

“Don’t you feel you are all tied up? How could you defeat me?”

“I am the bastard son of the most powerful merchant in Pravislota…”

“Seriously, who the fuck cares? All I heard about you that you make people suffer because of your fetish. So I brought a bottle of whiskey, which will be pushed up in your ass so deep you’ll feel the redemption of all yer victims, you bald frog.”

“If you kill me, there will be war. I will not let someone scraggy piece of crap destroy me.” The ropes were suddenly torn apart and as the outlaw tried to stand up, three knives penetrated his skull. He collapsed, and was, undoubtedly, dead.

“I guess I’ll have to drink the whiskey and will take your ring as an evidence.” He cut the ring off the hand along with the organic part, turned around and left the inn of this merry agricultural village.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Preferring to travel after sunset, he could hardly be seen by the road, presenting opportunities to an ambush. He had to draw back to the other settlement nearby, where his target and his master are hoping to spend a lovely night, since they have to leave the state to spy on the Northeners. He changed his uniform into a regular outfit, so that he would not be spotted by his targets.

“Who is this Anthony? What did he do? He is eighteen years old, if I remember well, too naive to be a bad guy. I guess Tyronne is purging his staff again. He did something like that when he came to power.”

Entering the outskirts of the city, he saw the pair moving on, he made haste to be close to them following their footsteps. Being friendly, he shepherded the two towards the local inn, where he bought all the drinks they wanted and rented three rooms for the night. He did not recognize the master, but he was already dead nevertheless.

“Who are you? I have not seen you before.” He smiled.

“We are members of the Recon unit, a very prestigious rank in the military.”

“I see.” He said, but what he thought was “Complete fools, who had no other objectives than hiking and coming up with stories. Recon is important, but these people are sometimes autistic.”

“We haven’t properly introduced ourselves, have we? My name is Ian, this is Anthony Asinus.” Said the master.

“I am Trevor. Nice to meet you.” Ethan introduced himself. ”I am a travelling merchant and obtained a small fortune by selling northern mead to nearby inns. I am happy to accompany two outstanding soldiers, who are to indulge themselves into a dangerous situation for our sake. I think we owe you, who protect this country.” but thinking “You’ll die tonight, even though you both seem nice, hard-working people.”

“That attitude is respectable.” Exclaimed the young one. He had very similar characteristics to his father, but his short hair was nut-coloured. The master, on the other hand, was a middle aged man, who knew what would happen if he messed anything up during this mission. Average looking, average hair colour, average intellect, nothing outstanding. Only his hard work had born fruit, which could have resulted in his dream job of managing a station or village far away from the borders. He was out of favour.

After the party, the scouts went to their rooms to sleep in a proper bed, which they would not find anywhere in the near future. The assassin followed them. Eventually he entered the room and bashed both of them in the head simultaneously, so that he would have time to prepare. According to the Paragon’s wish, he either had to mask the murder as a Northern provocation or as an attempt to murder officials by the Resistance.

“I have killed a Northener recently, I have his equipment.” The scheme was set in motion. “Boy, are you alive?”

“Why am I all tied up, scum?”

“Ask your father. Look around, your master is missing.”

“What did you do?”

“If I remember well, I have to convince him that he was attacked by Northeners. So he is off in my room.”

“What will you do with me?”

“That depends. Do you have any other questions?”

“Not like I need any information. I die here, am I right?”

“Certainly. But it is not your fault.”

”What?”

“Your father did something he shouldn’t have.”

“What will happen after I die?”

“The Annual Interregional Convergence is on the verge, the state wants to decrease the possibility of a war, or at least tries to bargain a non-aggression pact so that the war with our eastern neighbours would go unopposed. Not like we couldn’t annihilate the Northern Association. They are in no position to attack us right now, they need at least three years mobilize an army.”

“Am I used as a decoy?”

“Yepp, and the Paragon wants your father to suffer. But I have a better idea. You vanish. I’ll tell your master that you were kidnapped by the North. The truth is that the Northeners would be happy to acquire another indentured servant, since they would take someone in from the cesspit of society, and let them live in sanctuary. I think if you are humble enough and never show yourself, and give me one of your fingers, then you will be able to continue existing, basically everywhere that is not here.”

“Why let me go?”

“I have killed enough promising people already, and you are just a kid. I do not like to kill political targets. Moreover, I do not like to kill. Also, I do not care about your fate, so choose wisely, you only have one chance.”

“I’d rather live.”

“Goooood boy. Which finger do you want to lose?”

“Left little finger.”

“Let me get my stuff. You mustn’t make any noise.” He left and came back with a hot knife, and removed the little finger suddenly. The victim almost screeched. Gruesome pain reflected on his face, and almost embraced panic. “Here is some money people use up there, and do not forget to blend in and live a modest life.”

“Okay.” He was released and sent towards his destination. Relocating the veteran back to this room, he started screeching and unwrapping him telling lies about several offenders who kidnapped his apprentice, and that they were similar to northern hired guns.

After that he transferred his body back to his chamber and prepared to sleep. His thoughts shifted to Tyronne.

“He never asked me to kill a boy before. He really hates this guy, I suppose. But murdering an innocent? This is not like him. I have known him since we were very young. We met at the library when he was an apprentice to an industrialist, who discovered his exceptional talents at an orphanage. He memorized hundreds of books about calculus, political theory and a long dead language’s words. He knew the things I have undergone at first sight. Then we met with Edward, the grandson of a Cardinal and the son of a general. His father took Tyronne in as a ward. When we were seventeen years old the late-Paragon died, he challenged his designated successor and poisoned him with the weapon Edward gave him thus he became the ruler. Years after he stabilized his rule, Edward was murdered, Selena was taken, he had no family, and only I remained. As I have observed, I am the only one he does not treat like inferior person. I know I am his friend, I might be able to do something against it, but I am still a remnant of the previous regime, an assassin he hates to employ. The trainings had been stopped, as he preferred to outplay people by his mind games and subjugation, using everyone around him. I am meant to be a murderer, not a priest. I can only help him this way and I rarely have anything to do.”

He finally fell asleep on this productive yet unjust day, which he had to endure all the time.