Souls of the Fey
The princely bride job
Landing with a soft thud, the hooded stranger looked back and laughed. Not too loud of course, the guards would hear that. “Humans and their walls…” He muttered under his breath as he continued on towards the market square. They always thought they could keep everyone out by placing a few walls around their towns and cities. But the cloaked stranger laughed at that.
With a nice running start, he had leapt several feet into the air. Grabbing a small protrusion, he had dangled halfway for a few seconds before pulling himself up and kicking off against the wall to reach the top. After that, it was but a small matter to peek over the edge. After the guards cleared, he hoisted himself over the crenellation and had jumped down on the other side.
Now came a much harder part to his mission. Members of his species were rare in Fardain thanks to their general, barbaric and savage lifestyle in the swamps. The concept of civilization seemed lost on most of the tribal warriors. As a result, most of the few that had made it down here were slaves. In a town like this, he estimated there’d be less than a handful that actually supported their own livelihood. And even less than that probably did so with an honest lifestyle…
Well, not that it mattered really. In fact, it’d probably be helpful. No one ever tries to remember the faces of slaves. They’re slaves… so long as the headcount at the end of the day matches the count at the start of the day, no one cares. Sticking to the shadows, he sighed and made his way to a more seedier part of town and located an inn.
After a surprisingly pleasant meal, he went up to his room on the top floor. Opening the window, he surveyed the surroundings and climbed up on the roof. Staring at the castle, he sprang into action and darted across the rooftops towards his goal.
Squatting down behind a pile of firewood, he looked around as he tried to determine the best way to enter the castle proper. Scaling the wall and getting into the courtyard had been so easy it was laughable. As usual. Ideas raced through his mind and were dismissed until he noticed something.
It was hard not to laugh. Sometimes he thought, even the best assassin needs a healthy dose of pure, dumb luck. He did not know which of the two lords had unwittingly provided his way in. Considering how they seemed to know their way around the castle, he assumed it was Lord Fardain himself. But it mattered little to him.
All that mattered, was that right there in front him, a score of Bullywug slaves was scurrying about to make sure everything the kitchen needed was inside. This was just perfect. They were slaves and thus would not ask questions. And since the Bullywug community was so small and tight knitted, they tended to stick up for each other. In fact, most had taken to calling each other cousin, as a way to forge a deeper bond.
Dumping most of his gear behind the firewood, he hid his favorite dagger under his shirt and hopped over to the other slaves. Grabbing a crate of apples he carried it inside without saying a word. Even if the others noticed, they kept their mouths shut. Talking meant standing out. None of them wanted that. And just like that, he was in.
Dropping the crate, he stared into the throne room for a second and spotted the two lords, sitting on the dais. The son of Lord Dantrielle was seated next to Fardains daughter. As it should be, he noted. Since they were trying to arrange them to get married after all. For what it was worth, from the looks of it, the two seemed to hit it off rather well.
In fact, it seemed they hit it off a little too well. The girl dragged the boy out of his chair, and together they snuck out of the room. But not without procuring a few flasks of wine as they went, while their fathers talked and talked, apparently too drunk to notice by now.
And then, all of a sudden, he got yanked hard as a voice boomed in his ears. “What do ye think yer doin’ eh? Standin’ der like ye got nottin’ better ta do?” Croaking with feigned panic, Brroggat acted as one would expect. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I just wanted to rest my sore muscles for a minute master!”
Dropping him to the floor, one of the cooks loomed over him, holding a huge ladle at the ready. Taking a sniff, his eyes watered. “And ye even forget ta wash and scent yerself properly! Ye know how ye nasty toads smell! Can’t have ye handling food if ye stink like this! Filthy, dumb toad. Why do ye think we buy the damn scented soaps? Now hurry up! Git lost and don’t come back here till ye washed up and smell proper!”
Bowing and quivering, Brroggat turned as he was kicked out of the kitchens. Without anyone noticing, he swiped a bottle of Sanbiri wine as he went about his way. Navigating his way through the castle, he used the obscurity of his race to his advantage. The guards couldn’t tell one Bullywug from another it seemed, so as long as he walked around like he belonged there and knew where he was going, it was unlikely they would bother him.
Pondering on where they would have gone off to, he decided the best bet was to try the boys chamber. The girls chambers would be too close to her parents and they wouldn’t want to be caught. Nodding, he stepped over to a few guards.
Showing them the bottle of wine, he asked them which chambers the guests were situated in as the son of Lord Dantrielle had asked for some wine to be delivered to his room. They looked at him funny, but because of the way one of them pulled up his nose, he assumed it was just the smell he emanated rather than suspicion.
Reaching the corridor with the room assigned to the guests from Dantrielle, he heard muffled laughter coming from one of the rooms. Assuming that to be the one, he looked around and listened at the door to make sure. After he did, he checked the other doors in the corridor and found one to be open.
Sneaking inside, he went to the window and listened as he looked around. This room appeared to be unused for some time, which was just perfect. It meant none of the Dantrielle royalty would barge into this room to find him there waiting.
Pressing his ear against the wall, he started listening. There was some nervous giggling coming from the next room and he just couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes. After the sounds seemed to quiet down, he opened the window shutters and started climbing over towards the next window.
Most people would assume the climb to be impossible. But Brroggat wasn’t most people. The walls were well made and smoothed, making it hard to find any sort of foothold. Falling down would mean certain death. Causing rubble to fall down near the patrolling soldiers would too. So no, this would be considered impossible to anyone. Anyone except the best assassin money could buy. Brroggat took great pride in accomplishing deeds that seemed impossible.
He realized this was probably his only short coming. He didn’t just take jobs for the money. He took them for the sport. To challenge himself and test his limits. And he knew, one day, he’d find his limits. And it would mean his death. But, not today!
Sneaking a peek into the room, he grinned. The kids had fallen asleep. The wine finally taking its toll. Hopping inside, he stalked over to the bed and looked at the young lordling and his soon to be wife. Such a pity he mused to himself as he gazed around, spotting the many bottles of wine the two had consumed.
The young lord was somewhat known for getting aggressive when he was drunk. Coupled with the fact the girl still had all her clothes on this would be easy. In another life, they might have made a fine couple and seen a prosperous rule. But, his employer wanted a war and a war he’d get!
Taking the boys dagger, he plunged it into the girls heart as he covered her mouth. Stabbing and cutting her a few more times to make sure it’d look like the assault of a drunken fool he placed the dagger in the kids hands and started ripping apart the girls dress a little.
Taking a few steps back, he looked over his handiwork and nodded. This would do perfectly. Leaving the same way he had entered, he left the castle and retrieved his gear. Making his way back to the inn without being seen, he jumped into bed and fell asleep.
It was but two days later that Lord Fardain had the young Lord Dantrielle executed. And not even by the sword as would befit his status. No, the man had been so angry, he had the boy hanged like a commoner. The boy’s father had already left, swearing to return and see to it that not a single soul would be left alive upon his return.
As he stepped out onto the road, he took a deep breath to smell the fresh morning air. A smile appeared on his face and he left the town as quietly as he had entered.