Valor and Violence

Eheron hurried down the dark alleyway, his cloak drawn close around his body as rats scurried away at his approach, seeking shelter under the crates and canvas scraps that littered the narrow space. He kept his head down and face hidden until he finally arrived at his destination; a nondescript wooden door, indistinguishable from those around it, except for a small symbol etched into the doorframe.

The mark of the Guild.

He rapped out the code on the door and stepped back as it swung open to reveal a short, pale Aderathian dressed in black leather. Two long knives hung at his sides, standard weaponry for an assassin.

“You’re late, Eheron,” the man said. His tone suggested disappointment, but his facial expression remained blank as ever.

“I’m sorry, Fredericks, but our source sent a message, the old mage requested an escort from the Calandorians. I was observing in case it disrupted our plan.”

“And?”

“No change is required, fortunately. There are only two of them. Nothing special from what I saw, our team will be more than sufficient.”

“Good. You did well, confirming the new variables. I will intercede with the Guild Master on your behalf. He is… irritated, by your tardiness.”

Eheron shivered at the words. Everyone remembered what happened to the last agent to irritate the Guild Master.

“Thank you, Fredericks.”

The assassin regarded him coldly, giving no reply before disappearing into the dark beyond the doorway. Eheron released a shaky breath, attempting to steel his resolve, and followed. They descended the steps in darkness, navigating by memory and feel. He was tense. Despite knowing the path well, a single misstep would see him fall through a false plank onto iron spikes or trigger the poisoned dart throwers in the walls.

Neither was a pleasant death.

After what felt like an age, they reached the briefing room. It was dark, lit by a small lamp perched on the lone table in its centre, the feeble light swallowed by darkness before it reached the walls. Its weak glow illuminated four hooded figures gathered at the table, three of them standing while the fourth reclined in a large chair facing the entrance. Somehow, even though he was closest to the lamp, the seated figure seemed enveloped in shadow.

The Guild Master.

“Ah… I see Agent Eheron has finally deigned to favour us with his presence,” the Master hissed, his face hidden in the shadows of his cowl.

Eheron gulped, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he peered fruitlessly into the shadow, trying to glimpse the face beneath. No one he knew had ever seen the Guild Master’s face, but his voice brought to mind images of snakes, scorpions, and other crawling, venomous creatures.

The voice matched the man. He was a legend in the underworld, responsible for organising every thief, thug and assassin to work Salazaar and The Six for as long as anyone could remember. In private conversations in secluded taverns, agents speculated he was actually many people, each taking up the mantle as his predecessor retired, or was retired, as often happened in this line of work.

Whatever the case, the man seated at the table commanded, if not absolute loyalty, then absolute obedience, born of fear. Many ambitious agents had tried to steal the throne for themselves over the years, and all had been dealt with in very public, and very painful, ways. As were the agents who simply failed in their assigned tasks. He was both Eheron’s most generous benefactor, and the shadowy figure that haunted his nightmares.

“Eheron wishes to extend his apologies, Master,” Fredericks said beside him with a low bow. “But his delay was not without cause. He was following up on intelligence from his source regarding escort reinforcements. Eheron?”

The assassin nervously cleared his throat. “The mage requested additional support from the Calandorians that accompanied the merchant vessel, however, they only provided two soldiers. They wear standard Calandorian marine armour, though the armaments of one, the short one, differ from the norm; two battle axes in place of spears and sword.”

Eheron heard the tremor in his voice and paused, taking a deep breath. He shouldn’t show weakness to people like this. Especially the Guild Master.

Feeling his pulse slow in time with his breathing, he forged ahead. “Both carry themselves with the confidence of men well acquainted with violence, but so do we. I assess this increases the risk to the operation by a moderate amount, but I believe it still lies within acceptable parameters.”

For a few terrifying heartbeats, there was only silence, and Eheron felt the Master’s eyes boring into his own, though the face remained hidden in the dark. Sweat trickled down his back and Eheron wondered if he had made a mistake somehow before, finally, the Guild Master began to clap.

“Excellent work, Eheron,” he crooned. “I agree with your assessment. Though it does not change our plan, it, gladdens my heart, to know I have such capable agents in our little family.”

Though the words sounded like praise, they sent a chill down Eheron’s spine, and he looked at the ground as he mumbled his thanks.

“Now, my faithful children,” the Master continued, “I don’t need to stress the importance of this task. You have each been hand selected because of your exemplary records and talent for measured violence. While the rest of the family creates distractions throughout the city, you will move on the cargo. Eliminate the source first, then the guardsmen. You may dispose of the Calandorians at your leisure but ensure, no witnesses. The rewards on your successful return will be beyond your wildest dreams. The consequences of failure, however, will make you pray for death. Now go, my children, and bring me my prize!”

Eheron and the others bowed their heads and stalked from the room to carry out their task.

*

The Guild Master watched impassively as they left, waiting for the one hiding in the shadows to speak. She probably thought she was undetected, bless her heart.

“If the cargo is so precious, you should have sent me with them,” a silky voice floated out of the darkness behind the Master.

“Ah… Elizabeth. Haven’t I ever told you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” the Master chuckled without turning.

“I like to keep my finger on the pulse, boss. Why cut me out of the gig? We both know I’m your best asset,” Elizabeth said as she emerged from the shadows and leant against the table in front of him.

The Master sighed, reached out, and patted her hand. “My dear, you should refrain from jealousy. It doesn’t become your lovely features. Besides, our family has the guards outnumbered and outclassed. If they fail, it can only be from factors hidden to us for now. I need you safe and ready. Just in case.”

Elizabeth pulled her hand away and turned her head. She was pouting.

“Oh, for the love of… stop being so juvenile,” the Master scolded.

“I’ll be as juvenile as I want, thank you very much! It’s my prerogative as chief assassin extroadinaire!”

The Master chuckled and shook his head. Out of all his agents, she was both the deadliest and the biggest pain in his arse. Still, if he didn’t soothe her wounded pride, she would be insufferable for weeks.

“You know, my dear Eliza, you could see this as an opportunity. Raiding a courier service is well and truly below your talents. But if the team fails? Well… if they fail, then that means there is a true challenge awaiting you. Why waste your time until we know for sure?”

“I suppose,” Elizabeth replied, though her mouth was still scrunched up in a scowl.

“Very good, child. Now, if you don’t mind…” he said, shooing her away.

She hopped off the table and skipped out of the room. When he was sure she was gone, he sank back in the chair and rested his fist against his chin, glaring into the gloom of the doorway. Despite the placating words he had given Elizabeth, the team’s failure was not an option. For their sake.