Assassination at Age of Transition
#2 of Literature
Commission for SpecOpsDragon on FA
The golden wood glowed in the light of the candles, bathing the pub in its warm and cozy yellow-orange hue. The sound of serfs relaxing enjoying frothing drinks companied with their dancing, drums, and singing filled the cramped stone tavern. It was the sound of hours of work evaporating into the night air, their tired minds and bodies reveling in the party-like atmosphere. To most, this low-end bar was the place where one got wasted, or, if lucky and one had the money, enjoy the services that the private company of a courtesan could offer. Yet for the assassin in the robe, this was just the beginning of his night.
It was loud, as always, the hooded Sergal hiding beneath his grey hood as he glanced down at the orange colored liquor. Swishing the glass, Jäger brought it up to his lips, a small amount of the liquid spread out over his forked tongue. He winced a bit, his red eyes rolling back a little to enjoy the taste before the familiar burn of the alcohol stung and dried his mouth. His ears flicked, another sip gone, the glass emptying into his stomach as he sighed and looked around.
"Another round?" Asked the bartender as she walked over with a pitcher of liquor, smiling weakly and exhaustedly, it obviously the end of a busy week for her. He looked up at her, the alcohol affecting him a little but he could tell some things. She was tall, grey, and probably northern based on the coloration. His eyes traced down her frame, her clothing plain, and ordinary. Various colored liquids dotted the lighter colors. It was probably a busy night. She cocked her head, "Sir?"
Jäger snapped out of his observation mode and looked up before silently nodding, her pouring him a glass while before a catcalling drunk at the other end pulled her attention away with an annoyed huff and yell at some of the guys at the other end. He let out a sigh, the seat to his right open for a client that had dropped him a note saying they had an offer for him though it looks like they'd bailed. He took another drink before a large sergal, obviously drunk plopped in the seat beside him.
"Hahaha..." He chuffed as he looked at the hidden figure, Jäger's black and white muzzle the only thing sitting out from under his grey hood as he picked up the glass of liquor before him, taking another sip as an annoyance gently crept through him. "Well fellas?" The large sergal boisterously said as he looked to his buddies, all equally as drunk, gathered around, "What about this one riiiight here?" Soldiers, more than likely. Dime a dozen scumbags fighting for whatever city-state they were born in. Judging by the jingles of coins on their belts though, he knew they were mercenaries. Generally better fighters with always worse morals.
"Hey. Asshole." The mercenary said as he flicked his ear, making Jäger twitch it, "You got anything to say." Jäger sighed as he sipped his drink again, trying to ignore him for the time being, letting it all go away. Hopefully the mercenary would get bored and meander off. He turned his head slightly to get a look, his eye still hidden. His clothes were halfway off, his skin probably flush. His eyes droopy as he leaned his grey arm against the counter, obviously interested in harassing him all the more, obviously he wasn't going anywhere.
"That seat is taken," Jäger said calmly as he looked back at his drink, his voice doing what it could to mask his own buzz he had going on. His ears twitched as his hand dropped into his lap, laying the other more out on the bar, drumming his claws impatiently.
"Oh... This bitch finally talks," Slurred the leader, his long tongue getting hung on a few teeth as he looked at him more intensely, yanking his hood back to get a better look at the sergal. Jäger's eyes hurt for a second as they adjusted to the extra light. Taking in the situation, he looked back behind, two equally large and, by the smell, horny sergals stood behind him. By their uniforms, he judged they were with what he assumed to be the leader, the larger one right beside. While Jäger was large, the soldier was at least twice times his bulk. A fight of three on one would be hard but not unwinnable if he played his cards right.
The drunken mercenary snatched Jäger's drink from his hands and sloshed it uncoordinatedly close to his chest before grinning. With a deep, annoyed sigh, he felt the warm liquid running over the top of his muzzle as the mercenary leader emptied it atop him, flowing over his face and into his lap in quick running streams that soaked his fur and skin. He closed his eyes, containing the rage inside for a brief moment before the drunken sergal tossed the glass onto the other side of the bar. The mercenary pulling Jäger close by the neck and giving him a creepy, tantalizing lick across the inside of his ear, "Mmmmmh... You're going to be our bitch tonight." The drunken mercena assured, as he tightened his grip a little, "You're gonna get to taste all we have to offer."
Jäger closed his eyes, shuddering before opening them. Leaning back, Jäger knocked the sergal off balance as he gripped him by the mane and slammed his head toward the surface of the bar with a very satisfying thud. His hand that was in his lap slipped into a knife's sheathe, producing a small dagger that he pressed up against his neck. The sergal looking up, a terrified look in his blue eyes as Jäger leaned in to whisper. "How about if you touch me ever again...The last thing I'LL make you taste is your own blood as it runs out your mouth," Jäger pressed the blade of his knife against him for emphasis, cutting his neck shallowly, the sharp steel feeling like a brand on the drunken sergal's neck.
Before it could escalate any further, the bartender was over in a flash. "Hey! HEY!" She shouted, forcing Jäger to look up. "Not in my bar. Get the hell out. ALL of you! NO!" She shouted as she held a bottle of liquor. While it wasn't a dedicated weapon like his knife he knew it could bludgeon pretty good. Pulling the knife and sheathing it, he pushed the sergal to the ground with an unceremonious thud. The bar was as silent as the night as Jäger flicked his hood over his head and walked out. "And that means you too." The bartender shouted at the others as they hauled their drunkenly dazed comrade past him, one ensuring a rough shoulder checked on the way out as Jäger stepped into the cool night air.
"Think you could have caused any more ruckus? You're an assassin. Not a pirate, no?" Said a figure off to his right, hidden between the buildings, the shadows and hood hiding his face, "Come, we have much to discuss."
Jäger looked at the fellow sergal as he leaned up against the stone establishment, a single piece of silver dancing in the air before he caught it and flicked it again. Jäger looked at the sergal. He was smaller, about 1.8 meters tall, red fur running down his snout, mingling with the black on his cheeks while white covering his front. His wedge shape head was hidden behind his burlap but other things gave his status away, "One isn't a pauper with your level of sheen."
"Observant," The other sergal said, a hint of mild surprise on his tongue, "Even after a few drinks."
"Well, sometimes it's good to just relax and enjoy your drink and not spy on people," Jäger said as he leaned against the slate grey, wooden walls, " Besides, you don't talk to random aristocrats dressed as beggars."
"Oh..." The sergal said with some mock distraught, "That's a shame, I thought we could discuss some mutually beneficial business dealings."
"I am but a mere wanderer," Said Jäger as he showed off his mildly tattered robes, "I just travel city to city."
"Well then, I suppose you won't mind being handed over to the city to the guild that mercenary was in for some 'special one-on-one' interrogation over some mysterious and suspiciously coincidental accidents as of late."
Jäger smirked and double-checked his hood, ensuring it was up, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing they were accidents, god knows what could have happened if they were targeted."
"I suppose it is," The sergal flicked his wrist, sending a small yellow bag in the sergal's direction. Jäger caught it, the small jingle telling him of the bags and the metallic gold inside told him the rest, "Then again, I suppose it's good there are other ways of making you talk."
Jäger smirked as he checked his hood and walked behind the disguised aristocrat in front. The sound of their boots gently scraping along the cobblestone streets. The air was dank, the pungent smell of sewage and filth seem to cling to their lungs as they wandered through the central market. The vibrant city center was just as alive as it would be during the day with the sound of other patrons as they drunkenly wandered and chanted through the streets. Joining them were lovers of all sexes flirting with their partners through the streets, keeping close to one another, chatting, kissing and, like their drunken compatriots, enjoying the weekend evening.
Jäger kept his head down, hands tucked away in his pockets as they headed toward a higher end part of the city, away from the smell of the common rabble. It was obvious even from the architecture that this was the mercantile side of town. Darkness shrouded city banners hung from spanning ropes proudly bearing the coat of arms of the royal family. "In here," said the figure as he pointed to another establishment.
This tavern, compared to the last one, was far nicer. Various stone carvings dotted the door frame as they stepped inside. The air wasn't filled with screaming, shouting hooligans but was more relaxed. He could obviously tell this was where the merchants hang out, lone strings of a lute rose above moderately hushed voices. The two sergals walked into a side room as another Sergal, a waitress, appeared, "Welcome to the Kranak-" She said warmly, before being shooed away by the aristocrat, whom took off the hood to reveal his face.
I was obvious that he'd been around the block a bit, the top part of his head covered in black fur, though not as intricately patterned, his wedge-shaped head showing him an air of experience about him with his one good eye, the other having been replaced by a pure white glass one, "I represent my client," The sergal started, "He has a friend in the nearby city of Danar who needs to be shown the proper way for his treachery." The aristocrat looked at him, pausing a moment, "He's willing to offer 35 gold duvats for down payment,"
"What's the job?" Jäger asked silently, his own hood still up, head down to hide his eyes, trying to keep his anonymity.
The sergal nodded and produced a scroll which Jäger opened, revealing a colored sketch of a black headed sergal, much like him and the intermediary, smiling rather widely, "That is Jenzarith Falienair-"
"The inventor, painter, all around polymath, and rumored wizard or something?" Jäger said as he balked a little in surprise, "This... This is asking a lot you know."
"We know," He said bluntly, before he looked at Jäger, "But he threatens my client and therefore they want him removed."
Jäger nodded and sighed, this would be a lot different than those countryside jobs of prior, bigger stakes obviously but bigger pay as well, "...Alright, I'll see to it. How will I get paid?"
The other sergal grinned, "We'll give you a down payment of 35 duvats the rest will be paid on completion at a dead drop. You'll get more details from our contact in Danar. Find the Relae Club." The Sergal said before getting up, patting Jäger on the shoulder before pausing. "Curious, Jäger." The Sergal said, the name drop making Jäger flinch a bit, "Do you believe in things such as magic?"
Jäger was certainly confused but calmly pondered instead as he swished long tail as he looked up at the intermediary, "I've certainly have yet to see but my opinion is just anecdotal in the end." Jäger replied, looking back at him, his hood no longer any form of concealment.
The Sergal nodded and reached the door, flicking his hood back up, "Oh, and one last piece of advice Jäger. Avoid the plants, they're carnivorous," He set out a few coins for the drinks, flicked his own hood up and walked out into the main area of the bar before vanishing outside. Jäger's hands drummed against the table, this would be unlike anything else he had ever done before. What did he get himself into?
Guess he was in the big leagues now.
The sergal straightened out his mane under his hood, him having washed up a bit in the hotel prior to leaving. Felt good to get that sticky alcohol out of his fur. The rest of his clothes slipped on, his two sided hood, a soft brown hiding under a black outer layer, his knife belt clasping into place as he tightened it, full of six throwing knives. He checked outside the window, the sun resting on the city's walls as he slipped out onto the streets.
It was time for a last minute stock up on supplies and it'd be a good way to use the coin purse received from last night. The market in the afternoon was completely different than that of last night. The streets were more commercially active with people moving from booth to booth haggling for various wares with merchants. In the background, the incessant bang of the blacksmith's hammer against his anvil carrying and seeming to blend in to form the beating heart of the market. Various goods inside wooden crates stacked on top of one another as merchants and farmers shouted prices for their wares.
Jäger opened his bag to double check his supplies. The trip to Danar would be several dozen kilometers so he'd have to leave in the next hour if he was to make it before nightfall and meet his contact. He looked at the obelisk in the center of the square, the ornate bronze statuette showing the actions of local heroes as the shadow cast into a plaque on several sides. The shadow telling him just how much time he had left to shop before it'd be too late. Fortunately, he did have a little bit of time.
The blacksmith was the first stop, the sergal in the heavy apron pounding away at the iron in its rhythmic clang as he stopped by the wholesaler. "Welcome," He said, "Can I interest you in anything," He asked as Jäger looked at the various bits and bobs. He thoughtfully hummed before picking up a throwing knife and balancing it on a finger before he took out a knife from his belt and compared the two before putting it away. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, knowing that a good assassin was only as good as his tools and these knives were very good and mighty tempting. As he looked over the other knives, the merchant's gaze circled him like a scavenger on a carcass, eager to make a sale.
Taking a throwing knife off the table he looked it over, its steel blade shimmered in the light while the bound handle added a nice cushion. "Iron cored?" Jäger asked flatly, looking him in the eye under his hood.
"Yesss..." The merchant said with an excited lisp as Jäger picked up the sheathes for them, "It's 5 gold for the set if you give me your old ones."
Jäger paid him no mind as he dug out 5 gold from his coin purse and tossed it to the merchant before setting his old knives down on the table and picking up a new set. The merchant grinned, and bowed respectfully before gleefully taking the old knives to be melted and reformed into new wares. "Thank you for your patronage," the merchant said as Jäger slipped back into the crowd, the new knives felt weighty on him but in a good way. The rest of his time was securing the bare necessities. The provisions, food, beer, and other things that would keep him alive on the journey. With a final check, he slipped out the city's gate.
The walk to Danar wasn't too much of a hassle with its wide, clear roads offering beautiful panoramas of the sweeping plains that overlooked the province. The sound of Jäger's staff against the stone set the tempo of his thoughts. The gravity of the situation starting to set in some, his throat dry as he took a swig of the watery beer. Save for the few carts that walked slowly by with traders moving between cities, it allowed him to reflect a bit on his situation.
He had never been a connoisseur of art so the death of Jenzarith would be certainly no loss to him. He did, though, wonder what he could have done to gather the ire of other kings on the continent. Moreover, what he planned to do, a lot of gold had been pouring into the city as trade seemed to revitalize the city. Technology had been advancing after being so stagnant for so long. His thoughts slowed as the towering, ancient walls of the city came into view.
Like many in the plains, feuding nobles and powerful city-state councils lived in a constant state of on and off war. The walls of the city were pock-marked with evidence of such encounters, the three meter thick walls missing chunks from catapults and trebuchets that have tried to go through them. He remembered a bit about this city from the stories he was told when he was younger, stories of sieges and mysticism. It had some history and, Jäger felt, some secrets and myths that were more grounded in reality than he was previously comfortable to admit given that question he was asked about magic last night.
His tired paws ached as he arrived at the gate, rocks and sand pressing more into his pads. He looked up toward the walls and shielded his eyes eyeing the guards at the top conversing to their compatriots. Taking the chance he funneled his way into the city past the gate, their doors, like many in the area open during the day for traders and closed at night to protect against raiders and bandits. As Jäger passed the gate guards, he stepped onto the city's well paved roads.
The city was obviously in an economic boom, the streets were humming with activity. Kids ran through the streets, yelling at one another, shaking toys and sticks as they roamed the narrow roads in packs, tackling one another as they played. Experience was telling him he would have a few hours exploring the city before any business was to be conducted, him eyeing the sign of the Relae Club out of the corner of his eye. Normally he would go straight to it, but he knew he'd be waiting for hours and potentially look suspicious. Therefore, given the nature of his business, it certainly wouldn't hurt doing a little waiting and reconnaissance in that pub just a little bit beyond the Relae to wait on nightfall.
The hinges creaked as Jäger pushed open the doors to the pub, the sergal looking around on the afternoon drinkers before him, some in to escape the sun, others just there for a good time celebrating whatever they fancied. As he took a seat at the bar, the bartender came over, cleaning out a used mug with a rag, "What can I get you?" he asked.
"Beer," Jäger said quietly as he reached in and produced a gold coin from its purse, slapping it attentively against the table. The bartender went wide-eyed and quickly poured him a beer from the tap. Jäger couldn't help but smirk a little as he quickly was set a bubbling beverage in front of him. Money always makes people do go that little bit faster.
As the sun dropped lower in the sky and the glasses of beer slowly disappeared into his belly, the blue in the air above started its familiar transformation to the pink glow of twilight. Thanking the bartender, Jäger stumbled to his semi-drunken paws and headed out into the city streets. "Ok... Relae Club...." Jäger mumbled to himself as he walked toward the older side of the city where he saw it a few hours ago.
As places go, it was a moderately upscale place for the merchants of the city. Thick smoke hung in the air, teasing Jäger's lungs, the sergal coughing a little as he looked around, various people were gathered around the tables, drinking and chatting, never crude like the bars for the peasants and certainly not filled with the grandiose spectacle of aristocracy. These were people coming in and talking about their work. He would gladly join in if he thought his work was anything to talk about.
Chuckling a little as his own thought, he ordered another drink, something light, a fermented fruit juice that could help him relax a little more to get his mind off this feeling of being in over his head. He placed a duvat on the table, the gold coin glowing a bit as the bartender rushed off to grab his drink. He hunched over some, hood sill over his eyes as the drink was served.
He hadn't taken a sip when another sergal walked over, her red hair a vibrant contrast to his own black, "I'll have what he's having." She said, looking at Jäger with a smile, pulling out a gold duvat and sliding it over to where his was. It was exactly the same. With a warm smile on her face, Jäger turned to face her.
"Can I help you...?" He asked, rather confusedly as he looked over to her. She was slender, feminine but something about her that emanated an aura of toughness that belied her elegance. Her well-manicured hands were delicate and yet bore some scars. She was probably someone not to be trifled with.
The sergal, smirked a little, "That depends," she asked as the bartender deposited another drink in front of Jäger's makeshift companion, "I'm looking to walk from here to Eirlhae."
"Oh?" He asked, a sudden click happening in Jäger's mind, "Well, beware the plants, they're dangerous." He said to the other sergal, looking back toward his glass as he shifted the liquid around in it, taking another sip.
The other sergal nodded, "Yeah. That's what they keep telling me," She took out a letter, the rough-hewn paper envelope tapping against Jäger's arm causing him to flinch briefly, before taking it. She quickly downed his drink, "Thank you bartender," she said before departing. Jäger gently flicking his tail a bit before opening up the envelope quickly with a claw and unfolding the sheet. "Hayent Hotel" was all it said. Jäger tossed back the next drink before heading out the door and into the cool night air.
The hotel wasn't all that far from the bar, a few intersections away from the same street, the warm oil lantern an inviting light to weary travelers. As he neared it, he checked the windows briefly. Some hotels shining lamps of various colors to show that they offered a few extra services beyond bed and breakfast. This one, though, was just what it said on the box, no lamps or light outside any of the windows. Stepping in, the lobby was warmly lit, rough but serviceable flooring coated the bottom. Jäger ran his paw along it, nothing that could get him a splinter he hoped. It wasn't long before he spotted the red head, her vibrant furry strands such a contrast to his black.
It was only an instant before the contact pulled out a room key, "Hope you don't mind the arrangements, Jäger," she said as he walked over, taking it and glancing at the number.
"It's a bed and it's temporary," Jäger replied as they headed up to the top floor, "I'm frankly just looking forward to sleep."
They collected their things and marched up the stairs, "So, you know my name. Will I get yours?"
She chuckled, "No. You won't." Their steps filled the musty staircase.
"Certainly you must go by a pseudonym," Jäger asked, as he held the door politely for her, a brief thanks emanating from her maw, "I could make one up, if it suits. What about Red?"
She nodded, "It'll do,"
Jäger rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. Why does everyone seem to know his name before he gets theirs? Think that'll be the rules on all jobs from now, no dealing with people that know your name before you give it. With a flick, she inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. The room was small and there were two beds, a table, and a couple of chairs around it. All in all a basic hotel room but the lack of any other buildings around it added to the immense privacy enjoyed. "Good choice on the room."
"Thank you. Figured we could use the rest and privacy," Red replied as she headed over to a washbasin and splashed some water onto her face, "Tomorrow I think I'll show you the place and we can start some reconnaissance." She said flatly as she stripped her clothes and hung them on the provided hangars, "I intend to send you in there with what I can."
Jäger nodded, "I suppose you've got someone on the inside." Jäger asked as he did the same, he sighed a bit, his own desires asking for something more masculine as the red furred sergal exposed her nearly bare form to him. He smirked, wonder if these people knew about that side of him too, "You guys don't seem to be the type to just go into things willy-nilly."
The other sergal nodded, "You'll see. " She said as his red furred compatriot slid out onto her bed, blowing out her lantern with a breath. Jäger did the same before silently pulling a knife from his clothes and tensing his paw around its handle under his pillow. Sleep came to him after a long series of thoughts, all of them centered on one thing, 'Why him?'
Jäger awoke with a start as he felt cool claws against his hands. Leaping into action he pushed his assailant against the wall before pulling the attacker down and slamming his elbow into the back of its head where his head met his neck. The red blur instantly went limp as Red slumped to the floor unconscious, moaning slightly as she gripped the back of her head, rolling a little in pain as Jäger looked down. "Dammit..." He cursed to himself, "You OK?"
"Do I LOOK OK?" Red yelled, quite obviously in pain. Shakily she got to her feet, Jäger helping her briefly before brushing him off angrily, "Good fricking morning to you, too.... Asshat." She groaned thereafter, rubbing the back of her head.
"You need a medicus?" Jäger said, withdrawing his hand so he could put on his clothing, obviously a little embarrassed and doing his best to ignore what he caused. He sighed, his mind wandering back to the childhood monastery where he was perfected in his skills, it wasn't often to have to fight in the morning immediately after waking up.
Red let out a sigh, the effects of the series of hits starting to wear off, "Damn... What you hit me with? It felt like a ton of bricks..." She groaned some as Jäger smirked, getting a sandal on a paw.
"Trade secret," Was his simple reply to her, "Now. What was this about reconnaissance?" He asked as his compatriot's pain eventually subsided.
"Yeah, yeah..." She groaned a bit, Red rubbing her head as she got up, a glare in her blue eyes, only adding to Jäger's mixed apologetic and pompous feelings that swirled around inside of him. "This way," The sergal said as she opened the door, grabbing a knapsack that rested on the table, "And try not to kill me in the process!"
The sound of sandals against the gravel road graced the twin assassin's ears as the redhead guided Jäger down the road toward their target's residence. "It's just over that hill." Red said as they approached the peak of the hill, Jäger pondering what it could be. It could be high walled fortress, an unassuming shack, or perhaps some odd combination thereof.
"Viola," Red said as she showed him the villa. As Jäger expected, it was much more former than the latter. The castle was surrounded by sloped walls, slanting outward but still at a very steep angle, would be almost impossible to climb up were it not for the masonry which would give him a route into the building. Jäger scanned the environment, a few trees and the grass approaching wasn't even all that tall. If he got caught he would certainly have problems.
"So. This is Chateau au Falienair," Red said, looking at it herself, "Constructed just a few years ago at great expense to the court. However, if you've seen the city. It's been worth it to them." She said as he pulled a fruit out of the knapsack, offering another to Jäger, who accepted with a terse thanks. It was set quite gorgeously in the backdrop of the mountains that rose above the green, shortgrass prairie.
"And what rises must fall, correct?" Jäger asked, eyeing the fortress-like rotundas and large center building, "We have a map of the inside?"
"Even better. We have someone on the inside," Jäger looked at her as she looked away, mildly annoyed, "And we've got a map."
Jäger let out an amused huff, "Good. Let's look it over. What can our inside guy do?"
"Well, he's the chef for the guards and other personnel," Red said with a smirk, Jäger catching on almost instantly.
"I think some food poisoning could hit the guards," Jäger said, grinning as well
"Indeed. Though there is the caveat that the guards on the inside and the outside are served by different chefs and have two different food supplies." She pulled out another piece of paper, "Our second insider, a coal boy, supplied the map of the inside. The mission is simple. Kill Jenzarith Falienair and destroy his work as well anything of use. The clients effectively want him to vanish from history."
Jäger was mildly impressed, obviously an operation that had been going on for several months in advance, with insiders and informants. Their meeting was interrupted by the sight of a person leaving the castle and running over toward them, obviously some sort of security guard for the villa. Red sighed, "Oh dear... We've been spotted by the sentries." Red turned to Jäger, "I don't know know or care how you swing," Jäger cocked an eyebrow, her glaring a bit, "Just play along."
Red turned the page in her notebook book, it was obvious she had prepared for this eventuality. She began to read aloud, as the guard grew closer, "To my beautiful, unpicked flower... No, that's the lesbian one..." She flicked through the pages before stopping, "To my strong, handsome man. You have done much for me, my life is incomplete..." Jäger just blinked, confused and baffled by the sudden sappy tone of his compatriot, the female's words just bouncing off of him.
The guard ran over, rather intimidating in his all black clothing, a sword clung to his side as he stood in front of the two assassins. Red stopped her versing, looking up, "How can I help you sir?" She asked innocently.
The guard looked around, his golden eyes surveying the scene before him as he eyed the knapsack, fruit, and book, "Picnic?" He asked, his hand still on his sword but obviously relaxing.
"Yes sir," Red replied as he suddenly pulled Jäger close, "Out here with my handsome mate." Jäger cocked an eyeridge, earning a small glare from Red before she smiled back at the guard, "We thought we would come out here, we had worked very hard to earn this day off from our jobs and we decided that it was best to be here in the country away from the hustle and bustle of the city."
"Uh-huh..." The guard said as he eyed Jäger, "This true?"
Jäger nodded, "Well, what other reason could a man and woman be out here? She and I have worked real hard for this day."
The guard nodded, "Well, I am afraid you're going to have to spend that somewhere else. This is restricted property by order of the king." He replied, "As beautiful as it is, this side of the hill, as well as all ground on the facing side of the immediate vicinity is restricted from serfs and peasants as yourself. Now please leave before I have to come back do it at sword point."
Red and Jäger nodded and collected their things, the guard watching them as they slipped over the hill and headed back into the city, "You get what you needed?" Red asked as she got out of earshot of the guard, who turned and walked back toward the villa.
Jäger nodded, "Those sentries on top of the rotundas, what are they?" He asked, having eyed a few guards on the rotundas.
"Those, we believe, are the products of several of the polymath's experiments into explosives. We do not know what they do but my insider had reported several loud explosive devices aimed at targets. They are a weapon but they have slow burning rope attached to one end, making it easy to spot at night." Red explained, "We can plan later. I was thinking two days for this operation in preparation and execution. Give us the maximum amount of time for your swift strike."
Jäger chuckled, "I think the only thing we'd need is tainted food," He looked to Red, "After a day, we attack."
"Do not expect to hear from me afterwards," She said, "You're cute but if you get caught I don't want my head to be in the same basket as yours."
Jäger could only grin, "Well. I guess I better do it right the first time then."
The night air was cool and crisp, a gentle zephyr whisked across the grass, shaking the stalks and stems of the grassy field with a rustle. The smell of wood wafted onto the breeze as Jäger silently approached the compound, the massive stone blocks of its walls coming into touch with its imposing dark slate. The stones large but, as Jäger took the walls, working out the imperfections in their construction, he slowly started his ascent.
The angle of the walls made the climb easier than the more vertical ones he was used to, but it was still steep enough. His well-trained eyes continuing to spot imperfections, hands and toes sliding in as he headed for the top of the wall. The sound of his padded paws against the stone occasionally pressing into them. As Jäger reached the top of the tick wall's walkway he took a careful peek over.
Just as on the map, several wood structures met Jäger's eyes. Some were obvious, a blacksmith's hearth and furnace lay idle as did most of the guards. It wouldn't take much assume that something had happened to the staff. Probably a bad case of food poisoning, which meant their insider had done his job and therefore making his a lot easier. Obviously not every guard would be out but there would be significant holes in the coverage.
He slipped over the wall and peeked over the other side, his eyes met with a 15 meter drop. Peeking back over, Jäger looked for a ladder or some sort of method to get to the ground. He approached a fortress rotunda, failing to spot anything along the way that could be used for such a thing as he headed over to it.
"Look. I know the city guard will be here tomorrow..." He heard below him, "But after this we can head into the tavern and see what's available. I'm sure there's a courtesan with your name on her" He looked over the edge, a couple of guards conversing beneath him. As Jäger slipped toward the tower, their conversation both distracted and called out their location as they shuffled on the ground beneath him.
He eventually found his way to the ground, a lone rope tied to a supply crane, a large, secure knot keeping the top in place. Jäger climbed down, and slipped off toward the large building in the middle. Taking careful note of his surroundings, Jäger clung to the shadows, moving behind carts, shelving, and anything that could conceal him from the overtaxed guards. Avoidance was the name of the game thus far, he didn't want to have to kill the guards if he didn't have to. All that would mean for him was a lot of trouble with bodies. They find them, someone shouts "body!", you get compromised and your target flees or goes some place out of reach. And if that happened, something told him that he wouldn't live too long afterwards.
He reached the side wall of the fortress, knowing full well that the guards inside the main building had their own, secondary food that kept them safe from the ravages of food poisoning. Fortunately for him (and perhaps them as well) he wasn't going anywhere near the halls.
Looking carefully at the building, he slipped his paw into the cracks in the stonework, calloused pads keeping his muscles safe from harm as he carefully climbed. Using his strength and dexterity he forged a path up the wall's many imperfections. He looked down, no rope to save him, just his grip, which tightened ever more as his acrophobia kicked in a bit.
Looking up, the quarters were, naturally, at the very top of the building. His paws were starting to ache at the slate's sharp edges as the stone started to cut into him a bit. His claws clicking and teasing as he climbed ever higher, spotting the dimly lit balcony. He climbed closer and closer and, eventually, he reached the base of the balcony. Jäger pulled himself up a bit, letting him see if the coast was clear.
The inside of the quarters was illuminated through various glows of cauldron and candle. It was open and large, dominated by a large round bed. A painting of Jenzarith Falienair and a female hung above a desk that sat in the corner. The painting showed them in their finery, obviously a painting to commemorate their wedding. He never knew he was married. Jäger felt a wave of unease which he inhumanly quickly quelled. It was certainly not the first husband he'd killed and certainly wouldn't be the last either.
Shifting his gaze lower, Jäger eyed the desk. It was full of papers, letters, and notebooks and looked like it was about to explode under the pressure of its contents. Quickly peeking around the room, he followed the light emanating from the small room in the far back, an open door next to a lager darker, closed one. The open one glowing with the familiar glow of a small flame. He slipped over towards it, instinctively clinging to the shadows as his heart pounded in his ears.
Inside was the polymath Jenzarith Falienair himself, his back to him, slipping his clothes off to sit in the nearby pool of steaming water. As he entered Jäger quietly pushed open the door, he was hoping for the noise of the door to be drowned out Jenzarith's stepping into the pool. He was close to getting it open only for its hinges to squeak loudly. Jäger held his bated breath, but Jenzarith didn't even turn around as he slipped his head on the wall near the steps, "Thank you guard, set the sponge over there. I'll get to it in a minute." He said, looking at the ceiling, the warm feeling of relaxation washing over him, still oblivious to the threat in the room.
Jäger closed the door, mimicking the imaginary guard's departure before he stepped silently ever closer. His heart pounded in his chest, it was almost time. He moved in, his hand forming a fist. He knelt down, close to the polymath, looking at the best way to do this, knowing there was one ever silent, effective method for dealing with someone from behind.
"Ah..." He said relaxed as Jäger moved back briefly to get out of his way, Jenzarith's eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth of his bath. With the tension palpable, Jäger's hands swiftly leapt into work.
Jäger gipped Jenzarith by the neck with his left hand, his right hand gripping him by muzzle, twisting his neck to the limits. Caught off guard, the polymath eyes jumped open, his cry muffled by the combined neck pinch and muzzle clamp. He looked at Jäger for a brief moment. In those eyes showing shock, fear, terror, countering Jäger's own eyes, cold, calculating, professional. Jenzarith knew death was but a few moments away and with a simple twist of the neck, Jäger delivered that promise. There was a brief moment as Jenzarith fell silently limp, a last breath escaping his lungs and his eyes closed, never to reopen of their own accord.
As Jenzarith felt the coolness of death wash over him, Jäger set his body back into the pool. He looked around nearby for any mementos, souvenirs he could show clients as proof of his target's demise. He spotted an innocuous looking hourglass and picked it up to look it over. The sand inside glowed ever so slightly as he shook it, creating small, magical-looking puffs that were contained in the glass. Cocking his head he looked it over some more, ornate carvings of an ancient tongue were up and down the hourglass' small frame. It, frankly, looked plain at a distance and yet something so much more up close.
With his target taken care of, Jäger slipped out and poked around to the second door, this one darkened on the inside. He grabbed a candle nearby as he stepped into what could only be described as a workshop of some sort. Yet this workshop was so much more than that. Odd machines were scattered and littered about, from strange metal domes on wheels to large cannon.
Perhaps what was most interesting was his drawings, it was quite obvious that he had done several sketches and drawings on everything from anatomy to poetry. He felt a little bad destroying this knowledge but he put that aside, looking around for anything that he could use.
Over in the corner rested those new devices that his partner had heard about. It was simple, a metal tube, a trigger and some rope nearby. It looked like a crossbow, which were already deadly. These things, whatever they were, offered to be even deadlier.
Picking up the rope, Jäger lit it, glowing that same shade of orange that he saw on the guard's weapons. Extinguishing the rope in some water, he grabbed some of the mysterious black powder off to their sides. This had to be related somehow. He dipped his hands into it, the smell of sulfur assaulting his nostrils, causing him to cringe a bit.
Taking a handful, Jäger poured a small batch into a bowl and grabbed a candle and lit it up, reacting almost instantly as it exploded in a burning puff of smoke and a small but very loud explosive hiss, leaving behind almost a black soot. He looked up, the smoke wafting toward a large ventilation hole in the center, giving Jäger an idea. He grabbed the powder and poured it out over the workbench, coating it in as much of the powder as he could muster while avoiding any open flames. The remaining barrels he couldn't empty he rolled over, placing them nearby.
He opened the door before leaving a trail to the door, him rolling back the barrel after he was done. As Jäger set up his escape, his blood turned to ice as he heard the door open. A young guard stood there, hand still on the door. Both stared at each other surprised, the shock palpable before Jäger dropped the torch on the ground igniting the powder trail, it sparking quite a bit as it headed toward the workshop.
"INTRUDER! WE'VE GOT AN INTRUDER IN THE QUARTERS!" The guard shouted as he barged over toward him, kicking Jagar in the back and knocking him to the ground, him quickly rolling over before looking up at the guard who pointed his halberd menacingly at him, "HALT!" He shouted as he drew back on his halberd, preparing to stab. Jäger took a step back, trying to keep out of range. He fell to the ground with a thud, tripping clumsily as he was distracted by the guard and missed the step out onto the balcony. The hourglass that he stuffed into his pocket earlier fell out and Jäger suddenly felt an icy wind descend over his fur and, in that moment, time seemed to stop for Jäger.
As the feeling of icy coolness subsided, the world had gained a slight blue hue reminiscent of the glow in the sand he saw earlier. He stepped out of the way of the guard, this odd magic allowing him some much needed time to think. He also noticed other things like the powder trail that almost reached the armory. He was in awe, yet, there were some things starting to move. Sparks started to fly from the powder trail, starting slower but gaining speed. Looking around, he eyed Jenzarith's old bed. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the sheets off the bed, more sparks starting to fly as he quickly tied them to the banner and lowered himself onto them.
Soon the guard started to react, following him. Albeit with comical slowness that allowed Jäger ample time to dodge his swinging before he hauled himself over the rail. As the powder stores in the room ignited, he could see the shockwave approaching rapidly. He blinked as he frantically lowered himself. The guard looked down at him briefly in befuddlement before being blown clean through the masonry railing, landing on the ground with an unceremonious thud. A huge fireball and powerful concussion shook the building.
The explosion rocked the fortress, the powder igniting in shower of smoke, force, and flame. A secondary explosion in the lab soon detonated and the wall, unable to contain it, had detached and fallen to the ground in a shower of sparks and debris, coating the entire compound in various flammable bits which soon started torching the thatch-roofed buildings. With any and all stealth compromised, Jäger realized his problems were a little more mundane. His sheet was on fire.
While he knew that the sheet wasn't anywhere long enough to do all 17 meters of height, he was relying on it to last long enough to allow him the ability to swing toward the wall. Cursing his luck, he started to swing, the sheet becoming sketchier by the second. His fingers just gripped the wall when the sheet tore away, leaving Jäger holding on for dear life for a brief moment before he recovered and slowly climbed down.
Looking around, the fortress was a firestorm, the few wayward sparks and cinders that had landed on the roofs of the buildings were now ablaze. He looked around briefly before spotting the rope on the tower he came in, running towards it. It was a bit of an obstacle course, with various guards and serfs running around, rescuing themselves and their compatriots from the burning structures while trying to contain the flames.
Jäger soon reached the rope, starting his ascent so he could slide off the wall. Completion was tantalizingly close. He pulled himself mightily up the rope where he came face to face with a guard with one of those new weapons, obviously part of some emergency response plan in these situations. As Jäger attempted to get over the wall, the guard snapped the weapon up to his shoulder and fired.
Jäger felt an immense pain crash into his arm, causing him to stagger and fall over. While it missed a bone, it hurt like hell, having gone through and through the muscle there. Jäger took a throwing knife from his belt and flicked it in his direction, his aim, unlike the guard's, was flawless. It landed perfectly on the side of his neck cutting right through the artery and nerves. Before the guard even knew he was wounded Jäger rolled over the wall, slid down its steep drop and, clutching his arm, escaped into the night.
The morning arose the next day with unyielding quickness. He knew he had to get out of town, the city guard would be looking for the perpetrator. He turned his robe inside out, the tan inside replacing his black as he washed up. He checked his bandage, feeling the maggot-like creatures wriggling inside to prevent infection. Not the most pleasant feeling but it was probably keeping him from going downhill condition wise. He gathered his things and opened the hotel room door, a lone envelope flopping to the ground with a flimsy thud. Leaning over he picked it up and opened it.
Inside there was a single piece of paper, a map revealing his payment's location. He chuckled, after last night he had better hoped there would have been payment. Closing the door, Jäger slipped out of the city and continued on his unending search for more clients whose problems he could handle.