Dawn had come, and the Night Fang did not like it one bit. The orange sun was rising above the nearby apartments, yet he was still in his armour and mask. A ninja and daylight were not an agreeable combination. Fortunately, as the sun was rising, the Night Fang had found Nissaro’s footprints outside an abandoned house adjacent to Lord Fostmoore’s manor. Hideo had ill-love for Fostmoore, who took pride in funding the City Watch and their own biased brutalities rather than orphanages and plague hospitals, alas he was here to combat the Inferno and protect the civilians of New Jade regardless of status. The Night Fang snuck around to a small garden filled with dead plants, their brown leaves drifting into dust. He approached the back door to find the handle torn off and the door ajar. The Inferno assassin was rushing things. Perhaps Nissaro knew that the Night Fang was on his tail.
He closed the door behind him. Rays of sunlight peaked through the cracks of the stone walls and boarded-up windows. Cobwebs filled every corner and old, torn furniture was toppled over. Nature was laying its claim as foliage was seeping through the broken glass of the windows and the dented planks that covered it and flies were dancing amongst the unflattering smells. This was a far cry from a lord’s manor. Nissaro is smart enough to know which house his target is in. What was the Inferno assassin planning?
Hideo took extra care with each silent step he took as he approached the painfully creaky stairs. He looked up at the floor above to see the same scenery, a ghost of a home, but no man seemed to be inside. He walked past empty shelves with more spiders than books and lights slipping through the cracks of the walls. He was beginning to wonder if Nissaro had led him on a goose chase until he heard a clanking sound coming from above. The attic.
He crept up at the chipped ladder that was hidden between two rotting bookshelves. The ladder itself was as old and decrypted as the rest of the house. Hideo could feel splinters piercing his scarred fingertips. He pushed the hatch slightly ajar from one finger and peered through. By a crate, he saw a long, bronze crossbow lying on the floor. A metal, spikey hand picked it up and began to pull a steel bolt into it.
As the Night Fang watched Nissaro approach a circular window, he silently pushed the hatch open and emerged. The demon-masked assassin was too busy configuring the large weapon to take any notice. Nissaro smashed his iron-handed fist into the window and lifted the crossbow, pointing it through the shattered glass. The Night Fang’s zaffre boots made not a single creak as he edged closer. He was close enough to see over Nissaro’s shoulder and where his beast of a ranged weapon was aimed.
At the adjacent manor, there was a stained-glass window with three moving silhouettes behind it. The blurry shadows were exchanging handshakes and pleasantries. Lord Fostmoore’s crooked shadow bowed before a shadow that was more oval and larger than average, the shadowed protrusions of a beard sticking out from the neck. It was clear to the Night Fang that the silhouette belonged to the Duke.
One of the floorboards under the Night Fang’s boots suddenly creaked. Nissaro slowly turned back. The hollow pits of darkness in his smiling demon mask locked eyes with the Night Fang. The sapphire assassin charged at him. Instead of turning to face him, Nissaro panicked and turned to aim down the crossbow, hurrying the shot. There was a strained clanking sound as the bolt was locked into launch. The Night Fang tackled the assassin. The crossbow bolt shattered with a mechanical wail. The bolt hurtled from the attic and into Fostmoore’s Manor. The stain-glass cracked, and shards fell to pieces, collapsing into each other and creating small shards in the process.
As the Night Fang was struggling to hold down Nissaro, he glanced through the attic window to see the damage. He saw flashes of chambermaids and servants fleeing around in panicked circles and heard a cacophony of shrieks and cries. To the Night Fang’s relief, he saw two guards in jade armour hurrying the very much alive Duke out of the chamber. You have no idea how lucky you are, old man. Hideo felt a small slither of warm triumph.
Nissaro screamed in frustration and hurled a metal fist into the shadowed side of the Night Fang’s mask. He let go of the Inferno assassin, who then proceeded to kick the Night Fang in the upper leg, making sure to hit a vulnerable and non-armoured part of his person.
The Night Fang ignored the throbbing and the newly emerging tightness in his chest as he pushed himself back to his feet before the assassin could descend upon him. They exchanged a flurry of punches and kicks, all met with equal counters and parries, until Nissaro grabbed a blunt plank of wood from the triangular ceiling above them. The hastily fashioned weapon was embedded with nails. Nissaro swung, but the Night Fang jumped back before the nails could get stuck in the side of his skull.
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The sapphire assassin spun and did a high kick that knocked the wood from Nissaro’s hands. The smiling demon grunted and pulled out two throwing stars from his belt. Both stars were fresh and stainless, yearning to taste blood with a ram’s head engraved in their centres. Nissaro threw both stars with one swing of the arm. The Night Fang lifted his sapphire gauntlets in front of his face and the spinning blades bounced off them with a clang. Nissaro, clearly losing his temper at the Night Fang’s tenacity, cursed through his mask, turned, and ran to the quiver of steel bolts he left by the window.
The Inferno Assassin pulled one of the steel bolts from the quiver and turned, but the Night Fang was already in front of him, aware of his clumsy intentions. Nissaro attempted to lunge with the bolt, but the Night Fang grabbed his wrist and twisted the steel out of his hand. Nissaro grunted in pain, too busy cradling his wrist to notice the Night Fang taking hold of the bolt. He stabbed Nissaro with the steel arrowhead. The bolt’s cylindrically sharp edge pierced into the upper leg, the edge emerging out of the back of Nissaro’s knee. Behind his smiling demon mask, Nissaro screamed in pain and looked at the Night Fang straight in the eyes. He grabbed the Night Fang’s forearms and pushed him against the cracked, wooden wall of the attic that clearly had not aged well as the two of them found themselves tumbling out of the building.
They landed in the back garden, parts of wood, dust, and debris falling onto the dying grass around them. The Night Fang landed on his side. He groaned in pain for a while before lifting himself to his feet. He walked over the detritus and greying grass. On the horizon over some terraced houses, he saw the sun rise over the city’s skyline.
He found Nissaro slumped over at the far end of the garden, grabbing his iron-spiked hand around the bars of a tall black gate. He had crawled there as the dying grass that led to him was stained with a cherry tint. The steel bolt was still sticking out of his leg. The Night Fang loomed over him, tired and weary. Hideo had gained many scars from this one assassin and he was yet to meet the rest. The smiling demon mask creaked up at the Night Fang. Hideo then noticed the large wooden shard sticking out of Nissaro’s lower torso. His iron hands gripped the wood and were stained with his own blood.
Nissaro wheezed as he struggled to pull off his ghastly mask, revealing the deep crusty burn mark down the side of his bearded face. He looked up at the man who slayed him and smiled through bloodied teeth. “You fought well, Night Fang,” he wheezed. “You were an annoying thorn, but a worthy one.”
“Who are you working for?” The Night Fang spoke in Hideo’s voice. Nissaro wouldn’t recognise him. Besides, Hideo knew how this was meant to end. “How many of you are here?”
Nissaro licked his bloodied lips and smirked to himself. “Dozens of us. The Thane of the Inferno Clan himself is in this city. He’ll slice my throat with his claw for my failure.” Nissaro coughed up a ball of blood. Hideo felt an icy, unwelcome shiver crawl down his spine. The Thane’s answered straight to their clan’s grand master. Whomever Nissaro’s superior was, he would be at least as skilful as Xerxes.
Hideo knelt on one knee. “You won’t have to worry about him. Who is the Thane?”
“Is this your first kill?” Nissaro asked, still wheezing.
After a long pause, Hideo hesitantly answered. “No.”
“You’re expecting it to get easier, aren’t you, little kitten? It won’t. I promise you that.” The once-demonic assassin spat droplets of blood as he talked, as if it were just loose phlegm. “No matter what vermin you are ending, it will never be easy, little kitten.”
“You haven’t answered my question, Nissaro,” Hideo urged assertively, yet quietly. “Who is the Thane?”
Nissaro was only growing paler and sounding weaker with each word. “Night Fangs are meant to be honourable.” His eyes were watering, whether it was in pain or sadness, Hideo could not decipher. “End it already!”
The Night Fang felt his stomach turn seeing the Inferno Assassin in this state. “Very well,” Hideo said, a voice as cold as stone as he drew his curved dagger from his zaffre belt. The blue markings glistened in the fresh morning sunlight. “I’ll make it quick.”
Nissaro then spoke his final words. “Don’t expect them to do the same for you.” In one swift movement, the Night Fang inserted the blade under Nissaro’s burnt chin. Blood splattered, Nissaro gargled and after the longest minute Hideo had felt, it was done. He could hear the faint dinning of City Watch bells and knew that it was past time to leave.
It proved more difficult than usual to leap across the rooftops unseen thanks to the freshly born sun. When he finally did return to his apartment, Hideo swiftly changed into his alchemist garments in a rush. Before he left, he glanced into the mirror. A drop of Nissaro’s blood managed to sneak onto the left corner of Hideo’s bifocals. He swiped the blood away with a handkerchief and walked out the door. He was late for his appointment with Lady Aubrey.