Chapter 1/2 - The Beginning

I live by a creed of sorts. I do my best to help anyone I can but the bottom line is that my bottom line is all that matters. Today I have a job. The job is no easy task but nothing I haven’t been accustom to before so it’ll be done with ease and efficiency and this is why I’m paid and others are not.

The night’s clouds create a pitch black aurora that floats around the cityscape. The darkness is pushed, ever slightly, by the lit lamps set up around the streets but, as if you were set in a spotlight, they do little to obscure the shades of black which now envelope my cloak. Perfect.

They call me Sam. They… Some people call me Sam but myself? No, I’m Samuel of Lock and I’ll go by Samuel to any man who doesn’t pay me or they’ll see themselves off in a hurry. I’ve never had an issue with being able to persuade people to keep it at Samuel because if they cut it short, I cut their fingers a bit short.

While caught in thought the door to the tavern I’ve been eyeing opens wide. The light only beckons on the cloak for a moment. A moment’s enough. I begin to lurch my way across the darkness to bridge the gap between myself and the target. As the steps get closer and closer and the breathing of the target reaches my ear I slip the dagger loose off my waistband.

Abruptly the person in front of me stops walking, raises a hand and turns around. Caught speechless I catch myself not only matched but taken aback and bested. How was I made?

The cloaked figure’s hand falls.

“Sam” a quaint female voice smirks, only the slight dim of the lights on the street allows the grin to seep into my view.

On most nights, most, I’d be prepared to end a life over my name but not this night, I was made and she knew my name. Hell, I don’t even know hers, just that a girl in a dark black cloak would be at the tavern; just a girl I thought.

Before the thought can fully finish I finally set eyes on the short bow half drawn under her cloak.

“Hello” I mutter out

I stare at the ground and then back up, my mind races but my hands clutched to the dagger to no avail. To far too lunge, I stare back into her eyes, the bow draws.

Opening the door to the cold night is usually a chilling feeling but my body, in preparation, has already turn stone cold. For better or worse I know what will happen tonight.

Moving towards the outskirts of the town I hear a very faint set of footsteps trailing me, as expected, quickly I raise my hand and turn around.

“Sam” I smirk, little bastard had it coming and as I lower my hand I draw my short bow hidden under my cloak.

He mutters something under his breathe that, with the wind, was simply to silent to make out. Doesn’t matter.

In a single motion I unveil the rest of my cloak behind my shoulders, draw the short bow and release. Sam’s limp body falls to the ground in a motionless heap.

Poor Sam or rather Samuel, best to respect the dead, never knew what he got himself into nor does whoever set me up on a contract list.

I take a moment to grab the dagger from Samuel’s limp body, press it against his throat, and slit whatever life is left in him out onto the dirt covered ground.

“A nice dagger” I silently mutter.

After grabbing the pouch of gold located on his person I quickly collect myself, ensure no blood got onto my gloves and head back towards the tavern checking over my shoulder every few steps to insure no one made me, while the city guard is easy enough to bribe it’s not a path I wish to go down.

I push open the tavern door, a giant solid red oak and immediately return to the barkeep that is currently addressing a drunken regular.

“And I… I don’t care I tell her, and you know what? The bitch slaps me!” the slurred man shouts spitting up a bit of ale into the barkeeps face.

The barkeep, a chubby little man, looks more than displeased as he wipes away the spit from his large beard.

“Sir I’ll need you to finish off your beer and stop there, you’re cut off”

As the words slip from the barkeeps lips, the drunken man, now noticeably an oddity who doesn’t quite belong in such a place as this, draws out a great twelve inch knife from his waistband and lands it on the table. The bars rowdy laughter quickly dies to a silence.

I position myself, short bow again slipped under my cloak, in the back right corner aligned with the door. This barkeeps a good man not like these folk around here, he’ll not die to some drunken fools blunder, not this night.

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I draw my blade in a swift move and drive it into the top of the bar counter. I glare at the table, not lifting my gaze to meet the barkeeps, I know fear and I don’t need to see it to know it’s covered on his body.

The bar around me, once uproarious in laughter and song, is deathly silent awaiting me, me? It’s just a little blade stuck into a shitty table in a crapshoot bar located in a town no one gives a piss about.

I think a few less ale next time would suffice, I’m making a scene and this poor man deserves nothing of it.

“I’ll be making my way to my room”

With that I drop a small baggy of 30 gold on the table, no small sum for this man, and move upstairs to my room; I notice the barkeep immediately start rummaging into the bag and his eyes bore holes into it but knowing the place he’s in, he quietly shuffles it under his counter.

Fumbling with the stairs that arch to the taverns sleeping quarters I finally get to the top, I notice a set of footsteps trail me to short in step to be a tall man but to light for a short man’s heavy feet.

“Do we have business?” I mutter, slapping my right hand on the railing overlooking the bar which has returned to its brisk pace and loud songs.

I notice a quick gasp inward from the person who was following me up the stairs and a bit of a cough.

“No sir, I was merely heading to my room, it’s getting late.” The voice behind me, sweet and dangerously seductive, assures me. A lady, I was right.

“Apologies” I mutter and approach my door still facing away from the girl.

I pull out my single key and mess with the knob, now glancing across I see the woman, dressed in a long black cloak only her flowing red hair silks through the shrouded hood, her face to shadowed to clearly make out.

I push open my door, now unlocked, and fall to my bed unsure if I locked or even closed my door behind me.

The girl slips in and out of my mind until sleep consumes my thoughts.

I stand for a moment outside the drunken man’s room, unsure whether to press and see if he has any gold on him while he’s passed out or not. His door, now wide open as he forgot to shut it, beckons and I begin to move forward.

Loud snoring sweeps through the room, I shut the door behind me. The room, no more than 10 feet in width nor length) has a small cot, a dresser and a little table. I begin to rummage through his things, I notice the blade, a blade made of metal I’ve never seen before, sticking out of his waistband as well as a set of necklaces around his neck; the blade’s nicer, but not as easy to grasp and remove without waking so I motion my hands towards his neck and in one pull rip off his necklaces, four in total.

After looting his dresser and table I find a few gold pouches, not having time to count but knowing the sum is well over a hundred gold I slip silently back out of his room and towards mine.

The barkeep, who is making his late night rounds, points directly at me.

“You there, that’s not your room”

In a panic, I compose myself and let out a slight blush.

“Why sir, you can’t see a reason why I might be coming from another gentlemen’s room late at night?”

And with that and a wave, the stout barkeep heads back to the bar downstairs. I notice the noise has died and peer over the edge of the balcony. I notice just a few patrons sitting amongst the empty tables, seems most people are calling it a night.

I head over to my room, another closet sized room, and make my way to my bed. In a single motion I draw my blade and lift my mattress slicing along the bottom of the mattress a straight and unnoticeable cut. I place the necklaces and gold inside the bed along with my short bow and the rest of my more valuable belongings while keeping my dagger hidden under my pillow. Finally I flip the mattress over and put the bedding back on and rest my head.

My eyes shut.

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Drool slips from my chin, disgusting. My head pounds but it relents as I come too, I feel the blade on my waist and as I go to stand I step towards the door, unlocked. I must have forgot to lock it in my drunk stupor

I open my door and shut it behind me locking it. Stepping off from my door I walk back down the staircase to find the same girl from the other night, hidden under her cloak draped in the back corner of the bar, sipping down what looks to be a bit of ale with her breakfast.

“What can I do you for sir?”

I look across at the barkeep, he’s a little more timid then the previous evening when I got started, I must have been a bit foggy and aggressive. I stare down and see a giant gash in the counter.

“I’ll take a glass of water”

He pours out a cup of water from one of his taps. A glass of fairly cold water, not cold enough to be cold but colder then warm. I drink it readily in attempt to calm my head which is still slightly thumping behind my eyes. I set my glass down, ask for another which is promptly filled and move my way to a table across from the girl from the other night setting myself directly facing towards her table, I sit and stare.

I notice the lighting in the room seems to fall on every table, including my own, but not the girl who seems fixated on me. While still staring I notice her gaze must be drawn to me as her head aligns with mine, we’re far enough away that I can’t make out her face but I can see her fiddling with a gold piece on the table, is she anxious?

I feel it, my neck, its lighter than usual without the grasp of chain and while instinctively I prepare to snatch at my throat with a quick grab to assure myself I’m wrong, I understand fully that I am not and I don’t want to alert anyone in the bar, especially this girl who still stares.

In a single motion I lift myself from my table and begin back up the staircase to my room, what of my other possessions. I quickly push open the door and frantically search; my gold and my necklaces are gone. Idiot.

“You drunken fool” I whisper.

I hear the same faint footsteps begin to arch the staircase. Attempting to look calm, I collect myself and walk out as not to show my turned over room and quietly shut my door. The figure passes me, close enough to smell her faint aroma clouding my sense’s, I draw my blade and place it against the back of her throat.

“I’ll be taking back my things miss”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

I raise my hand to her cloak, spin her around and pull her hood down. Sharp. I feel a gutting pain, I look down to find an arrow stuck in my stomach and by the time I look up I see her sprinting for the window in front of her.

“Stop!” I shout, breaking the arrow off half way and running after her; each pace cutting into me, the taste of blood fresh on my lips.

I burst through the window she jumped out of in pursuit down onto a pile of garbage and waste. An arrow flies over my head as I notice she took the time to draw her shot off, a close call but a mistake on her part. I close the distance closer and closer as her small size struggles to outrun mine.

The day has picked up, people crowd the streets as merchants and other dealers sell goods and while she easily evades them I’ve closed now within ten feet of her, I draw my blade and in one motion throw it towards her back as she runs.

I notice her body fall to the ground with my blade sticking out of her leg, just a flesh wound I chuckle.

“You draw that bow, you lose your life” I muse

“How’s the gut?” she chides.

I stare at her, an odd woman this is.