Children are monsters. What differentiates them from adults is experience. They have yet to be humbled by age. The climate of curiosity that the citizens of Dusien held was shattered when Free Cities condottiere were lynched by a gang of students. It was murder most foul according to the accusers. The defendants claimed self-defense. The pulped bodies pointed to the subjects being beaten to death. I have no idea on what the truth was. It never mattered. It would be decided on by the victors.

Matters of justice were complicated by the fact that the students were squires of knightly orders. They were the children of affluence at the very least. With the autumn festivals approaching, many orders and institutions released their charges on holiday. A band of restless young men had gotten into a confrontation. Men had died. The young rapscallions had engaged in some harmless fun. Thankfully, nobody had been hurt. Nobody of consequence. That was how their parents put it. Captain Alessia Faccini promptly received a discreet bag of coin. She had the messenger stripped and bound. Placing the purse put into his mouth his beaten form was left naked in the city plaza. Tattooed to his back were demands for the young men to be handed to her. Since they were soldiers too, she would trial them before a military tribunal. She would see them face the charges for murder. The city responded by demanding that she herself be turned in. She was charged guilty for the assault and slander of a citizen. She refused. A few days later another incident would take place. Another death would add to the tally. That was my fault.

Lord Cedric and captain Alessia revoked all passes to the city. With the current climate, they considered it wise to avoid potential antagonism. Everybody in camp were less than sanguine about the whole situation. I was an exception to the new restrictions. Whilst tensions brewed business had to continue. Still I took steps to avoid trouble. A set of less conspicuous clothes from a back-street merchant was enough for me to blend into the crowd. Perhaps I was a little too pale but there were plenty of dark-haired youth’s native to Dusien. What mattered was that I had the broad strokes covered. People filled in the discrepancies when they had little interest. I more or less looked native and spoke the language with a horribly exaggerated local accent. It was all about confidence. Like in battle, boldness opened opportunities otherwise impossible. Within reason of course. I didn’t walk down the street like owned the place. No, I went about my business with the air of somebody with something to do.

The tailored clothing was kept at Janie’s place. If there was official business in the city, I got dressed and caught a hackney. Lord Cedric needed to maintain a foothold. By showing timidity now he would lose everything. A ridiculous concept but that was how the aristocrats were. So, what was my job? In truth it was a fairly mundane one. I wrote letters and purchased gifts. It was my job to be the tangible banner of Isles interests in the city. I was the point of contact for all supplicants. My other business was a private one. Wulfric and I had come to a mutually profitable partnership. Subsidized by house Averntide, Wulfric sold off all his wares to Lady Maron. He was getting a fair price but that was poor profits for an unfair business.

I came up with the notion that if every man decided to bring their own store of whisky, surely that would surely not be a part of the cargo. Why, men at sea who could not wash started to become malodorous. It would not be unreasonable if they carried ambergris concoctions to mask the scent. My side business with Wulfric was equally profitable as it was advantageous. There was a thriving black-market that did not undercut Lady Maron’s margins. It allowed me to establish connections with my kind of people. Whilst Wulfric had previous clients, they were unreliable ad hoc buyers. He did not a have reliable partner on the continent. Perhaps an auction was the superior method of sales. But it does little good when there are no bidders. Reliable business partners were a rare and valued client.

It was shocking what doors language opened to you. If you spoke like a local and knew their dialect you were halfway in. I accidently established relations with our first semi-permanent partners over mugs of cider. What Wulfric got aside from a little extra money was an early foot in the market. We all took the return of trade as a given once the Estate General was concluded. Despite the money running little luxuries afforded, it was whale oil that was the prize. Once the harbors were reopened, the man who could supply that demand was going to make fortune. Making friends now was establishing the business partners of tomorrow.

Osmund whilst awkward, and at times caustic, had proven to be an adept partner in crime. His father was a well to do merchant back in the Isles. Having invested connections on both sides was a boon to supply and demand. It was a strange business. From the Isles end it was all above board and very respectable. Once the cargo got into Wulfric’s hands it became contraband. On the wooden shelves of perfumers and publicans it was an exotic luxury. In this entire market chain, we were the only disreputable link.

Wulfric had an order for silks from a wealthy client back home. Osmund’s father had set up the deal. We were to pick up bolts of fabric in exchange for silver. There was going to be a lot of money involved. None of us felt confident in handling that much money. Six men were chosen to take part in this exchange. Three from Wulfric’s crew, one a local. He one a liaison of sorts, a businessman as they say in the south. His job was to see that everything went smoothly in his boss’s territory. Osmund justified his presence by claiming he was the representative of the purchasing client. Whilst endangering him was not conducive to future business, trying to convince Osmund otherwise was a forlorn hope. He had a mind like a steel trap. He remembered everything, even the little details. With a mind like that, once it was made there was no changing it. I got to go along because nobody told me I couldn’t.

I had gone ahead of the party and waited on the edges of the predetermined exchange site. It was a quiet plaza away from the main thoroughfares. At this time of night, it was an ideal spot for a discreet duel or an exchange of goods. Dusien was full of these little grottos. The city was almost mazelike in its layout. Since my presence wasn’t strictly necessary, I volunteered to go ahead and case the spot in advance. I found a quiet corner that commanded a fair view of the opening. Leaning into the shadows, I willed myself into stillness. I had gotten a lot better at since my first sea voyage. The trick to hiding is stillness and color. Movement attracts attention, so do unusual silhouette. There is a knack to stillness. Color well it goes like this, uneven shades of grey serves better than pitch black. Despite what you may think, unbroken patches of black rarely occur in nature. Perhaps in a windowless room with black walls it would help. All it does in practical terms is make the shadows deeper.

When you have lived on the edge for a while, you develop a sense for danger. My nerves were tingling as I watched from my position. Something was wrong. There were meant to be people waiting for us. The plaza felt unusually silent. I had only gone a few blocks ahead of the main party and they would be here soon. Then I saw the shadows moving. I felt a trickle of fear, but I couldn’t help smiling. Something was wrong. There was a very good chance there would be dire consequences. But the people in the shadows were amateurs. I looked closely and saw three figures lurking in the dark. And lurking they were. Once spotted, I could discern their outline. They crouched in exaggerated poses. Their heads swiveled in rapid jerks. This parody of alert ambush gave away their positions. Though details were hard to make out, I could see the long outline of sword sheaths. That raised all sorts of alarms in my mind. Only the watch and knights could bear arms in the city. Even the guards of wealthy houses could only stand armed within their lords’ property. Whoever they were they meant serious trouble.

Thankfully, they were as competent as lookouts as they were in concealment. When I approached the plaza, I had made no attempt at stealth on my end. Whilst I had not exposed myself in the open, a good lookout would have watched all the alleyways leading to the plaza. Taking a one last look around to see if I had been spotted, I slipped away. I had to find the crew before they got there. It was a harder task than you think. Whilst I went on ahead, I had no idea from which direction they would be approaching the meeting place. The local would be guiding them. I wondered if he was in on it. By this point I assumed it to be an ambush. There was the very real possibility this was a set up all along. I raced through the night looking for our men. Hurtling through lifeless streets and silent buildings I stopped. In the darkness of a half familiar city I was lost.

Panic was welling and I felt even more disoriented. I could hear the traffic of the night a block away. It was as if I was in some strange grey purgatory. Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I figured I could make my way back to the plaza. A hot anger flushed away the confusion. I grasped that volatile emotion and froze it into hate. If there was a trap, I would just have to spring it. The sounds of the fighting would warn them of what lay ahead. I react poorly to threats. They get me thinking and my mind wanders to terrible places.

A faint whirring followed by a crack split the air. A piece of lead the size of a thumb slammed into the darkness. A spray of chipped masonry clattered to the ground. It hit a wall missing the intended target. Inwardly cursing I readied another lead shot for my sling. The would-be ambushers fell into panicked confusion. The figure I slung at fell on to their rear.

“What’s going on! Who did that!”

Fear. Uncertainty. I heard voices from his compatriots as they emerged out of cover. A rookie mistake. They were cloaked figured all dressed in black. I let out a dry chuckle as I saw the figures. There were too many straps and pointless knives on them. It was a costume pulled out of the mind with a fertile imagination and little experience. Despite its impracticality, the materials and make screamed of affluence. I had little time to ponder on sartorial tastes because they had finally caught sight of me. And there were more than three of them. Swords were drawn. I guess they had little taste for talking.

“Who the-!”

Another piece of lead flew out of my sling and this time it hit its target. Cracking into the speaker’s throat, they immediately dropped. Gurgling on the ground, they pawed at their throat. I quickly counted five angry circus assassins with drawn steel. The unexpected violence had shocked them into indecision. Now was my opportunity. I ran away screaming.

“Help! Murder! Thief! Fire!”

Crying bloody murder, I ran. Shouting everything and anything that would get attention I fled on giddy wings. If they had any sense, they would have scattered into the night. Or bought something to shoot me with. As I said, amateurs. I spotted three trailing me and hoped the rest were too. This was the best that I could do. Screaming into the night I led them out of the darkness and into the busy traffic.

The city watch handled the rest for me. Unsubstantiated cries of fire and murder were an arrestable offense. A pack of cloaked armed men was something even more pressing. Dusien’s finest ignored me for the latter. I immediately ran into the masses without looking back. An interrogation from the watch would have been awkward. The sounds of shouting and a judiciously applied drubbing carried me away into the anonymity of the crowd.

There was very little time. I held suspicions and needed to see if they were true. Running as fast as I could, I made my way back to the site. It was only a few blocks away from where the watch was brawling with the swordsmen. The figure I had hit was still writhing on the ground. I felt contempt as I confirmed that they had abandoned their own. I had expected as much.

Padding towards the prone figure I approached from their blind side. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I removed a handy little sap. Too absorbed trying to breath the injured man never noticed their assailants return. With a blow to the head I sent him to sleep. Never hit a man over the head. If you intend for him to wake up that is. A seemingly controlled knock to the head could have all sorts of consequences. I had intended to incapacitate the man and I had gotten lucky. Lowering his hood and removing his mask, the man turned out to be a boy. He must have been my age or a little older. There was a slight fleshiness to his cheeks. It was heathy complexion compared to my hollow ones. I did not recognize him, but I was certain of who he was. I searched his pockets and found nothing. Well, I did find a coin purse but didn’t take it. I removed his gloves and found what I was looking for. A gold ring with a crest on it. Setting the heraldry to memory I made perfunctory check on his injuries. A crushed throat, still breathing. He was having difficulties breathing. I could leave him as is but that could be dangerous. Death by asphyxiation was a very real possibility. I made my choice and drew my knife.

Sounds of consternation and heated arguments reached my ears. Finishing my work, I made haste to retreat. The was a group approaching and I toyed with the idea of watching from the shadows. I had managed to pull off everything so far and felt confident about this. Doing a better job at hiding than the previous lot, I watched the costumed killers return with the watch. Someone else had joined them as well. Somebodies else.

I knew they were highborn the moment saw them. It was hard not to. There was two of them. One had light brown hair and handsome features. Bright eyes full of emotion, he was the spitting image of heroic youth. Just by looking at him I could feel the optimism radiating off him. Instinctually I disliked the boy immediately. Compared to Lady Maron he was lesser. He felt watered down in an odd way. That was the first time I laid eyes on the man who would consistently become an absolute… inconvenience.

The watch and their apprehended guides were locked in a heated argument. I could easily overhear the discussion. I heard names of families dropped as if they were of consequence. Indignant “if my father hears of this”, and the indignant “it’s not our fault”. The energetic highborn tried his best to ease the antagonism between the watch and their unruly charges. He seemed familiar with the cloaked ambushers. The second figure that accompanied them was silent throughout the whole affair. Everybody avoided the individual. The occasional eye was cast their way, but an invisible cordon had formed around the figure. I couldn’t make out their face. A deep hood covered their features, but judging by the cut of their cloth, they were a peer of the spoiling young worthies. What I could make out were strands of silver hair. I knew they was highborn by the unnatural vibrancy it had.

That sixth sense for danger screaming. This one was dangerous. I needed to leave before they started looking into the shadows. I could imagine terrible silver eyes fixing me to the spot. How I knew they would be that color was beyond me. All the same, I fled the scene for the second time.

Osmund clasped my arm in a rare display of emotion. I had returned to Wulfric’s quarters near the harbor. They had opened the door before I had even knocked on it. There must have been a lookout who saw my approach. Pulling me in, thick wooden doors slammed shut behind me. Osmund held my forearm in a warrior’s grip. Surrounding us was Wulfric and his crew. All thirty men were arrayed in helmets and padded leathers. Light glinted off drawn steel. They were all dressed for a fight.

“Bloody hell lad.”

Wulfric shook his head and spat into the ground. He had managed to figure out what happened on his own. When his boys came running back, he knew something had gone wrong. I filled him on the details, he shook his head once more.

“You got lost so then decided to pick a fight with a bunch of killers. Bloody mad man.” He said it as if it was a compliment.

“It could have gone worse.” I sighed.

“Aye, it could have. At least we lost nothing.” Wulfric nodded to the chest at the back.

“What does the local have to say for himself?”

Wulfric grunted. “Dunno, the boys say he legged it at the first hint of trouble.”

There were going to be hard questions asked in the morning. Somehow the young knights had caught wind of our deal. Why they were interested in it was beyond me. I had yet to meet one and discover how warped their perception were. Oh, we had no doubt on who the culprits were. Rich young boys. Exactly the kind of people who had lynched the Free Cities men. It seemed that they held little distinction between us and the southerners. What concerned us more was whether our partners had turned on us or not. If that were the case, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Did I kill that boy? In a way I guess I did. I had made an incision in his throat. When he was bought to a cirugion, they assessed that he had only survived because of that cut. It had allowed him to draw breath. That mattered little. The wound went bad and the rot set into his blood. Perhaps I should have cut deeper.