Negus leaned on a rail of the cobblestone bridge; the stones were weathered with age. Ryker would be here any moment. A light mist was setting in. Through the haze, he glanced at ancient Red Oaks, next to statues of heroes from the Lotus Age. The river below burbled, and Negus leaned deeper into the stone, looking both ways for the silhouette of the mercenary.
He could hear the shouts and cries of the gala’s occupants, and he pictured Julian, wine glass in hand, talking to Orion – the man with the droopy chin – and the two of them trying to please the whims of the council.
The moon was high in the night, peeking through the mist, and that meant time was running out. A shroud of smoke and shadows rose from the cobblestone; tendrils snaked around Negus’ leather boots, and the smoke unfurled around Ryker. His black cloak billowed, its edges trimmed with silver. Leather armor fit his slim frame, and his hood obscured the silver mask.
“Sorry for the holdup,” Ryker said. “Had a bit of a disagreement with a former client. Don’t worry, it’s been handled.”
Negus stepped away from the stone railing. “We must make haste. The gala has already begun, and every minute we waste here, our window is getting shorter. Do you have a plan for how we are going to get in?”
“Hold it. Before we talk about anything else, where’s my payment?”
Negus tossed him a sizable pouch; inside was 30 debri, Baelon’s currency. It equated to 25 gold each.
“Where’s the rest?” Ryker asked. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”
“Half now and half after the job’s done. Certainly, you do not expect the full payment when the job is not yet finished?”
Ryker chuckled and stashed the pouch in his bag. “Cheeky bastard. Fine. But just know that I won’t tolerate any nonsense if you come up short. As for a plan, I do have one.”
Rykard reached into his bag and retrieved an old set of blueprints detailing the architecture of the estate. “I had a friend in the city hall acquire these for me. I had to pay him a pretty penny – we’ll add that sum to the rest of my pay. Anyways, these blueprints show a rooftop entrance, one which will easily allow us to sneak inside. From there, the rest is up to you. How exactly do you want this to play out?”
“What I am hoping is that Councilmen Justard will have a document or a ledger of sorts containing the information I need.” Negus rubbed his beard. “If that route fails, the entire gala will be full of councilmen; one of them must know something.”
“And exactly what is it that you are looking for? I can’t help you find the shit you need if you don’t tell me the shit you need.”
Negus let out a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. What I am looking for is any information pertaining to the murder of the Thornes: a suspect, a note, some sort of clue, anything that could point me in the direction of their murderer.”
“The Thornes? Haven’t they been dead for years now? Why the sudden interest?”
“Now that, you needn’t worry about Ryker. Just help me get this done, and you will receive the rest of your payment. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask: How exactly do you plan on getting to the roof?”
Rykard stood idle, almost as if he let out a devious smile behind his mask.
“Now that, you needn’t worry about, dear Negus.”
Ryker grabbed a hold of Negus’ shoulder, and in an instant, dark shadows began to envelop them.
Negus saw and felt nothing but pure darkness, a silent, uninhabited void. Suddenly, Negus felt his boots touch the ground once again and noticed himself on the very rooftop he sought.
Negus wobbled forward and nearly tripped before regaining his balance. “What just happened? How did we get up here?”
The shadows dissipated, and Ryker emerged from within. “An ability I acquired years back. Useful in times like these.”
“Incredible. Any chance you could teach me how to use it?”
“Unfortunately, that would be impossible. This ability, along with a few other handy ones, is linked to my mask. And before you ask, it can’t be taken off or worn by anyone else. The mask chose me, and I, as its unwilling recipient, don’t get to decide when it's time for it to come off. What a shame that the world was robbed of always seeing a face as handsome as mine.”
Negus lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. Let’s scope out the area and make our way inside. Where does this rooftop entrance lead exactly?”
Ryker reached into his bag and grabbed the blueprint. “Says the hatch leads to a library. Maybe you could find the information you’re looking for in there.”
“Only one way to find out.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Negus lifted the rooftop hatch and peered his head into the hole. He spotted no one in the dimly lit room, and the pair proceeded to descend the ladder.
“Ryker, stand guard at the entrance while I search.”
Ryker nodded, and Negus began to look through the different shelves. He spotted a ledger containing the library’s contents sitting on a step ladder. He carefully skimmed through each page, searching for anything mentioning the Thornes and that fateful night. Alas, the ledger came up empty.
He closed the ledger and turned to Ryker. “I found a ledger. There’s no information pertaining to the Thornes in here.”
“So, what’s next then, boss? Shall we interrogate a few of the councilmen? I’m sure I could lure one or two of them away from the party for a bit.”
“No need for such drastic measures. I’m sure there is a better way to find what we are looking for.”
Negus twirled his beard between his fingers and began to think.
“I have an idea,” Negus said. “Councilman Justard is the one who sent out the invitations, but the other guests should not know that I am uninvited. If I can avoid Justard, maybe I can have a private chat with one of the councilmen and find something out. You’re gonna have to stay out of sight, however. I come from a family of nobles, so most of the councilmen wouldn’t bat an eye if they saw me here. However, your mask would give you away. Try to remain hidden, but stay close enough to where you can hear me in case anything goes wrong.”
“Alright, but one quick question before we get started. Why were you not invited to this gala? Seeing that you are a blue blood, after all.”
“Justard said the gala was political nonsense, something a young man like myself would be bored to death at. At the time, I didn’t realize the opportunity of having all of the city’s elite at one gathering. Invitation or not, I know somebody here must have the information I need.
Ryker reached into his bag and opened the blueprint again.
“Outside this library is a corridor; the door at the end of the hall will take us to the main hall. That’s where all the guests will be.”
“Then, let us join the gala,” Negus said. “And remember: Stay close.”
Ryker withdrew into the shadows.
Negus opened the large wooden doors of the library and stuck his head out, cautiously surveying for any guards or guests roaming. He walked down the corridor and heard a symphony of violins and grand pianos, the soft murmur of laughter and conversation, and footsteps clicking on marble.
He entered the crowded room, and no sooner did he get lost in the array of elegant gowns, vividly colored robes, and tailored suits.
Justard was perched on a platform at the end of the room.
Negus searched the faces in the crowd and realized just how much had changed; he couldn’t put names to faces. He spotted a shadow moving behind a statue, and that shadow went still. Ryker uncloaked himself and gestured with his head toward the crowd and dissipated back into darkness.
Negus smoothed out his cloak and walked into the sea of people, bumping shoulders with many and quickly turning directions when he spotted Julian speaking with Councilman Orion. With his gaze focused on his godfather, he bumped into a woman, nearly spilling her drink.
“Apologies,” Negus said, trying to quickly turn away.
The brunette stopped him and gazed into his eyes, and after a moment, there was a flash of recognition.
“Wesley Thorne?” she asked.
He curtly nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, but I do not recognize you.”
She smiled. “It’s Fiora Khalnor.”
“Ah, Darien’s younger sister. How is he these days?”
“Fine. He and my father are in Valbrenna right now. Father is trying to arrange a marriage between Darien and a princess. Are you well? You look a bit flustered.”
“I’m fine,” he said, glancing over to Julian, who was moving closer. “Let’s walk.”
The two walked across the room and over to a table adorned with sweet rolls, fruits, and drinks. Fiora was someone he hoped he could trust; they knew each other well enough as children.
He spoke in a low tone: “I need your help. I believe the council is withholding information about the murder of my parents, and I know your father is close to some of the members, so please, if there’s anything you might know, tell me.”
Fiora looked down at her drink with an expression of unease. “Wesley, maybe it’s better to try and move on. I’m sorry about your parents, I really am, but I would let the council handle the investigation… they’re powerful and have many connections.”
“I know what they are capable of, but it has been years, and the council has given me nothing. I won’t tell anybody what you tell me, Fiora, but please…”
She traced the rim of her glass and tapped on it a few times, her eyes lost in a deep thought.
“Father was talking to a man one night, though I don’t know who. They mentioned your last name quite a few times, along with another: Gustwilde.
“Gustwilde? As in Argus Gustwilde?”
“Yes, but you’ll only find the matriarchy of the family, Elyria, and her daughter Layla. Argus was killed, and soon after, the two sons vanished: Renthorn and Amon.”
Negus shook her hand. “Thank you, truly.”
“Wesley, if you do visit them, tread on thin ice. Elyria hasn’t been the same since her boys left, and Layla’s a sweet girl, but–”
“I understand. I get it.”
She patted his arm, smiled, and walked away.
Move on…
He looked down at the marble floor, shook his head, and made his way back toward the door which led to the library. The guards were now blocking it.
Turning he looked at the crowd, who were still lost in dance and conversation, and he looked at the exit at the far end of the room and saw it was guarded as well. His eyes locked onto Julian’s; the old man furrowed his brow and walked over.
“What are you doing here?” Julian asked.
Negus looked to the shadows, looking for any sign of the mercenary, but there was none. He glanced at the guards once again.
“Getting information,” Negus said.
Julian sighed. “We’ve been over this many times. The council will reveal information when they are ready. You need to trust their guidance.”
“Yes, well–”
“Everyone, I would like your attention!”
Negus looked toward Justard, who was standing at his full height. The man was red in the face.
“I would like to thank you for taking the time out of your evening to join me tonight. You know, when I first joined the council as a young man, Baelon was at the height of its prosperity, and I hoped over the course of my commitment to this city, I would see it grow into something even greater. But, it didn’t.”
Murmurs erupted among the crowd, and Justard raised his hand to silence them.
“It is now a disgusting shell of what it once was. In thirty years, it has become a cesspool for crime, murder, and corruption, and I tried; I tried as hard as I could to fight this the right way, the legal way, but the council and its members are more interested in exchanging the well-being of Baelon for gold. So, my fellow council members, and the elite of Baelon, I’ve come up with a solution to ensure this city has a future: I’m going to kill you all.”