by Eric Angers
“I mean I’ve trained you as far as I can. You know enough to work alongside me, make your own decisions. You are not done training because it is now in your own hands. I never had anyone there to put me in the right direction as I have you. Now you have a better start than I ever did. I’ve given you the areas I think are important and told you how to become the best you can. I have only one recommendation. There is a monk called Panji in the eastern empires, he can teach you hand to hand combat as well as philosophy. You should learn all you can from him.”
“I think I understand. What about Jaerr and his .. assassins?”
“His goal is to take the empire, to do that he will need to kill the emperor and defend the palace from the backlash that will cause. Once that is done, the people will have no choice but to bow to his rule. So we have to stop him from making that kill.”
“Easier said than..”
“I know. And these assassins are well trained, they will be a difficult match for you, especially since I never really trained you to kill, only to protect yourself. I may need you to, though. Kill, that is.”
“I know, I saw what they did in the ruins, I won’t hesitate.”
“Good, because if you do, you die. Killing is all they know, they are comfortable in it. Don’t be too worried, though, while you may not have the best sword skills in the world, you have more natural ability than any of them. Your skill in the basics outmatches every thief I’ve come across. Stealth will win you many battles.”
“So to get to Jaerr before he gets to the emperor, we have to do as he is doing. We have to plan to assassinate the emperor too. How would you do it?”
“Better question, how would you?”
“Well you want to be quiet about it, see the least amount of people possible, especially watchmen. So you wouldn’t want to take the rooftops, you would want a side entrance, something that got you in quickly. Possibly a second or third story window, but better would be a dungeon. Either that or a disguise. Trouble is getting close to the man.”
“Exactly, and I think Jaerr knows something we don’t. He’s had time to plan this, we haven’t. If we don’t figure out how to get close to the most heavily guarded man on the continent, then we’ll never stop him. I need you to find us a solution, Nor. While I try to find Jaerr and put a stop to this, I need you to get us a backup plan. We’ll meet at the Queen’s Bounty in Weir. Get to the city and learn what you can. And… stay safe,” Vastian said, clasping hands with Norgaard before kicking his horse into motion.
Norgaard watched him go, leaving him there on the path to the city that was the seat of the empire.
Norgaard pulled his damp wool hood further over his face. Droplets hung on his nose and chin like ripe fruit ready for harvest. It was bloody raining again, for the fifth time since they left the Void Halls. He shifted in his saddle, sores had developed over the days of riding. Honestly, he couldn’t understand how people could ride the things.
Everything had moved so fast since Phelandir and the assassin attack he hadn’t had time to ponder his role in what was happening. There was an organization filled with deadly assassins and not only were they trying to kill him, they were hell-bent on taking over the empire and probably the world. His master had said his old friend, Jaerr, thought it was the only path to peace. Peace through forced compliance. It had nothing to do with a locksmith from a tiny fishing village in the North, yet here he was. Why? He knew why. Vastian. For all his flaws he had become important to him, had replaced both his father and Anders. Without him, Norgaard might be dead or in prison. And his master was in danger, on a mission he could not hope to complete alone. Norgaard had learned much, could be trusted. To give his master a chance he would become an extension of him, allow Vastian to be in two places at once and maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to beat Jaerr and the Brotherhood.
While Vastian was out trying to find Jaerr, it was Norgaard’s task to come up with an alternative. They could just tell the emperor, but he wouldn’t believe them, and even if he did, Jaerr would get to him anyway. No, they had to get inside, figure out how Jaerr was planning to get there and then do it before him. Show the emperor just how much danger he was in.
He was on his way to the sprawling Imperial Palace grounds to observe the guards for potential weakness. Finally able to dismount he rubbed his backside before finding a silver to toss at the stable boy who rushed to take his reins. The inn was close enough to the palace to be a good base, though he wasn’t planning on staying, and there was a tall merchant’s villa nearby.
As he started for the villa he took note of the palace walls. Stone construction with banners hung every 50 feet or so displaying the four-pointed star of the Empire. The walkways on top were covered with slanted roofs tiled in brilliant blue sourced from the indigo flowers plentiful throughout the empire. The buildings within were not as high as western castles but instead were made up of many interconnected rooms and villas of various sizes and at their center a five story tower with slanted overhangs at every floor. Many men had the watch on the walls and the grounds and every point seemed under guard from multiple angles. Any attempt would be seen, alarms would be raised, and the target lost. But it wasn’t impossible, there was always another way.
Perhaps posing as the help, but that would take time, and he was betting Jaerr wasn’t going to give them much. By this time, Norgaard had found himself a way to the top of the merchant’s home, giving him a new perspective. It still seemed unassailable, but what if the place was under siege? Few kings would stay while their castle burned, they would have some way to get their heir out if not themselves. Even more, with such an empire, he would want to get out of the siege and command another of his armies to come and break it. There was a secret passage. But where?
There was a quiet thud as he hit the ground and rolled. He had some taverns to visit.
The dull roar of a tavern made the perfect backdrop for Norgaard to do his work. He could sneak about in plain sight, unnoticed as a completely unremarkable patron, and listen in to those conversations that suited him and move on when they did not. He bumped those patrons with extra coin as he saw fit, paying for his own drinks and collecting enough to gamble with. Dice and card games were good places for loose talk. His questions were innocuous and he doubted anyone remembered his face as he dipped in and out of each group in turn. The first tavern turned out to have little useful information and he retreated into the warm night air.
The next inn, Fool’s Folly, was even larger. The first floor was actually of stone construction with timber and planks making up the second floor. There was a central hearth open on all sides to warm the entirety of the hall as well as to cook by. A solidly crafted wood bar took up most of the North wall and tall tables surrounded the hearth. The patrons on the first floor seemed content with drink and conversation, while Norgaard could hear that on the second floor there was music and perhaps gambling. He would start in the first floor common area and if that held no leads, move up stairs.
After ordering ale, as simple a drink as he could, he began to make his way around the room, winding his way around each group, picking out key words in conversations here and there and stopping to hear more occasionally. He would join some and ask unrelated questions or comment on the weather. Where it was appropriate he would slip in a question like, “who would lay out a palace like that? It added half a day to my caravan route!” Often this would receive shouts of agreement but just as often he would be ignored and forgotten as he blended back into the crowd. Finally, at one small gathering a man gave him a break, exactly the kind of information he needed. “You’d wanna talk to Liam about that!” the man said, pointing to a darker corner and a lone young man. “He’s right over there.” One of the others elbowed the man and he flushed, looking down. “Oh I forgot, he probably don’t want to talk to nobody..”
Norgaard was already gone, taking a circuitous route toward the young man called Liam so that the previous group would have time to forget he was e
ver there. Acquiring two more ales on the way he stepped into the light near the boy. “Mind if I sit here?” Norgaard said taking the chair opposite Liam without bothering to wait for a response. “It’s just that there’s nowhere to sit out there and I kinda like the shadows myself. What brings you to the lonely edges of society my boy? Here, I bought an extra one,” Norgaard said, gesturing around and then placing one of the mugs of ale in front of Liam.
“I.. uh, I was kind of trying to avoid people,” Liam said, looking around for somewhere to go.
“Avoiding people by coming to a gathering of people? My boy, don’t be so transparent. I’ve been there, and I was looking for a friend.” Norgaard fell into a casual yet confident air, one he learned from observing Vastian, Ega, and even Grin the Bard.
Liam hesitated for a short time but eventually took the offered mug and took a long pull from it before setting it down and running a hand through his short sandy colored hair. “You’re right, friend, I can’t believe it but you’re right. Name’s Liam.”
Norgaard offered his hand and Liam shook it, “Anders,” he lied. “What’s got you down, son?”
“It’s my father, Anders, he was found dead a couple of weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry, Liam, that has to be difficult for you.”
“That’s not the problem. See, they say it was an accident, but I don’t buy it, I think he was killed.”
Norgaard raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. “What makes you think something like that?”
Liam leaned forward, first looking over his shoulder, “he went missing for a day, no one thought too much of it, but then the next morning they found him. He ‘fell’ from a palace tower, one he was working on. He was still in his prime, Anders, my father had never so much as stumbled, nevermind fallen.”
Norgaard was intrigued. This was exactly the type of thing he might expect with Jaerr’s passing. “Your father was a builder?”
“Not just a builder,” Liam said, “my father was in charge of the palace construction. I was his apprentice, so I know he wasn’t clumsy.”
“You know what, Liam, I believe you. I think he was killed,” Norgaard began. He had to be careful here, but he had no time to waste. He could take the boy, torture him as Jaerr likely did his father, or try to get him drunk to spill any secrets he might know. But he needed accurate information, and he needed it given sooner rather than later. He had to roll the dice. He leaned in, “you aren’t going to believe this, but I believe an assassination attempt is about to take place on the emperor and your father was killed by the assassin.”
Liam put his hands down on the table and stood up, “what? Why?!”
“Keep your voice down,” Norgaard cautioned, “to keep him quiet. He was probably tortured for information, secret ways into the palace, something to help him carry out his plot.” Norgaard looked Liam directly in the eyes as seriously as he had looked his friend Anders in the eyes when he had betrayed him. It was all in Liam’s hands now.
Liam looked ready to run at any moment, his eyes darting all around as he processed the information from the stranger. He sank back down into his chair. “You’re right.. I know you’re right,” Liam said, sobbing.
“Liam, you must listen to me,” Norgaard implored him, “I can stop this, but I need to know what the assassin knows.”
Liam silenced himself and drew himself back up, “I will tell you. But promise me one thing, Anders..”
“Of course.”
“Avenge my father.”
Norgaard hesitated, but only for a moment before responding, “I will.”
Chapter XXV
Vastian
Allowing Norgaard to seek out an alternate solution was a dangerous prospect. One Vastian would normally have avoided to keep his friend safe. But he could not afford to keep him close, not when the stakes were so high. Norgaard had learned enough to be his right hand in this, and perhaps help bring this to an resolution without disaster. That disaster came in the form of a brotherhood run empire, headed by a madman, his former friend an ally, Jaerr. The death of the emperor, Mail, had to be avoided at all costs, even if Jaer was stopped. His death would mean chaos in the imperial controlled east. Wars of succession would take the place of peace, famine for the common folk to feed the armies, trade with the west disrupted. The world would plunge into darkness. These were thoughts from a different time, thoughts instilled in him by the brotherhood itself. Their purview was the world at large, order, progress, and precisely the reason Vastian felt compelled to act. No matter how he tried, the universe seemed intent on keeping him involved.
For that, he must track an assassin, plot to kill the emperor in a very short time. He imagined Norgaard was doing much the same, looking over the palace walls for weaknesses. Vastian's perspective and his student's differed, however, by virtue of their experience. If he were going to kill this man, getting close with blades was a near impossibility, an arrow unsure, and no failed attempts could be tolerated. He left his perch that was a second story residence near the wall, joining the folk below in the streets just going about their daily business, unaware of the assassins likely all around them. I would poison him, he thought, a fast acting poison, in his food or drink. That would take months of planning, joining the staff, just to get the opportunity. Jaerr did have time to get one of his people inside, but even that bore its risks. Vastian allowed himself to take in his surroundings more actively, the people around him were mostly dressed in blue with a bright yellow flower pinned upon the chest. They also had gray ash smeared on their faces, foreheads or cheeks, or both. It was midsummer. The people were celebrating, which meant the palace would be celebrating as well. If only there were a way for an assassin to get close, all he would need is a distracting event, such as a midsummer eve ball. Vastian allowed himself the barest of smiles. He had a way in. But he still had to find and stop Jaerr.
His path through the city passed through several shops where he slowly acquired a new set of garments. Before long he wore the traditional garb of many eastern cultures, pointed shoes, tight breeches laced with leather on the sides, a blue silk kimono with a yellow flower pinned to the breast. He actually looked very out of place with his mixed wardrobe, exactly what he wanted. The offices of Imperial affairs were well appointed, orderly and tidy to a degree unheard of in phelandir. Vastian entered but did not immediately approach the clerk, rather he busied himself gazing in awe at the tapestries and jade statues displayed along the walls. The clerk approached him instead, glancing at his shoes one corner of his mouth raised in distaste.
"Sir, can I help you?" the clerk asked.
Vastian turned as if only just seeing him, "ah, yes, I'm very late. I only just arrived in the city and I hoped to attend this evening's festivities."
The clerk returned to his desk, picking up a sheaf of papers, "And who are you?"
"I am Lord Vastian Klensbane of Phelandir, I'll not bore you with the rest."
"Hm, yes, I should have guessed, a foreign lord," he said, eyeing Vastian up and down. "I see, did you not arrive with others from phelandir?"
Vastian saw that the clerk had been scanning his documents and landed on a specific line or two, "others? Why, yes, I arrived late, I hoped to rejoin them tonight."
"Very well, you are on the list," the clerk said, scratching a note in the parchment.
"Actually, if it's no bother, do you happen to know where the other lords are staying, I should like to meet them before... let's just say they had the baggage train and all of my belongings."
The clerk let out a relieved sigh, "oh, that is good, they told me they were staying at The Emperor's Rest."
Vastian left a gold coin on the desk, bowed very slightly and made his exit.
Vastian pushed and elbowed his way through and around throngs of revelers only slowing to ask where the emperor's rest was located. Odds were against this being Jaerr himself, but Vastian knew every Lord in phelandir, even the minor ones and he would know immediately if they were legi
timate.
The Emperor's Rest was a large 3 story wooden structure with a painted sign featuring a man slumped in a throne holding his head up by his hand on one cheek. He entered and approached the well groomed innkeeper at the spotless bar. Seemed everything in the empire was well kept. "I'm looking for the rest of my party, my good man. Some gentleman from phelandir?"
"Upstairs, bought out the whole floor, just one man, about time some more arrived.."
Vastian left him trailing his words behind him. Stop the stairs a locked door barred his way to the third floor. It would be locked no matter who was there. Vastian removed a few implements from beneath his trousers and went to work. He was not concerned with getting caught by civilians, only other assassins. Knives! Damn his fool haste. He left his knives with the rest of his clothes at a tailor shop blocks away! He was not going back, not this close. BeSides it was probably no one. Click. The door swung wide revealing a bare apartment, furnished with a small sitting area before him, and behind, a hall to bedrooms.
There was no use hiding, anyone inside would have seen or heard the door. He waltzed in as if he were meant to be there and seeing no one, stopped and scanned the room. Not much dust floating in the sunbeams from the open window, only a light breeze rustled the purple linen curtains. The cushion on one chair was disturbed, perhaps a little compressed still. Vastian knew if he felt it, it would be warm. Shadows pooled at the sides of the room, one distorted, barely a flicker, near an armoire. There. They were here, at least one. No one else would hide, nor could they hide, not like that. He lunged in the shadows direction, coaxing it out of hiding the form lunged back, blades flashing. Vastian twisted, throwing his arms up and pushing against his attacker's. They both recovered in an instant and a flurry of jabs and slashes kept Vastian on the defensive for a moment, until... There! He caught one wrist and ripped the knife away, gaining a weapon for himself. The two grappled but it was clear Vastian was better, faster, stronger. Before long the opponent's knife lay on the floor and Vastian held his at his throat.
