ARC 3 - HALLOWED

CHAPTER 10 - UNDISCLOSED DESIRES

Raegn shouldered though a busty woman too slow and panicked to get out of the way in time. Wine splashed onto the walls and shrieks chased him down the hall. Oh how badly he wanted to turn and berate them. These pompous shits moved for Caulmond’s attacker, why wouldn’t they move for him?! At this rate he’d fall too far behind and lose sight of the assassin!

He rounded the corner and was hit by a wave of cold air from windows left open to combat the mass of people deeper inside the manor. The flash of a servant's coat disappeared down the stairwell at the far end of the hallway. Rather than give direct chase, Raegn turned halfway down the corridor and crashed through a set of partially-glassed doors. He leapt from the terrace and tumbled with the landing on the ground. It was harder than he anticipated, the dirt packed tight and frozen, but he ignored the pain in his shoulder as he rose to face back toward the manor. The assassin had exited below the raised veranda just as Raegn had hoped. The disguised servant paused at the sudden barrier to his escape.

Changing in the guest house had certain advantages. For one, they didn’t have to travel in their stuffy outfits, but more importantly it had given Raegn the opportunity to see the backside of the estate before entering. The assassin had been running away from the main room, toward the rear of the building, and the only other way out was the servant's door. A gamble to be sure, but somehow Raegn doubted that an assassin would exit the same way they’d entered, especially if their plot was foiled. If he were a paid killer and his plan exposed he would assume the prepared exit would be blocked. It wasn’t, of course, but the assassin needn’t know that.

Puffs of heavy breath rose into the night air as the two stared one another down. Raegn had caught up and put himself in a position to delay the attacker, exactly as Merced had instructed. Now all he needed to do was wait for the Inquisitor to arrive and the mission would be a success.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Raegn still inhaled sharply as the man opposite him drew a dagger from beneath his black servant's coat. Raegn cursed as he instinctively reached for his own belt-line and found nothing but comfortable fabric. Only an idiot believed they could win a fight against someone with a knife while unarmed. He’d seen the result of such a fool splayed out on the streets of Bastion more than once when an argument had gotten out of hand. Raegn took a step back as the assassin took one forward. He needed to stall.

“Stop,” he ordered. “Surrender and you can live. You’ll be outnumbered soon and the next to arrive will not be so forgiving.”

“Perhaps,” the assassin uttered, “but I’m not outnumbered now.”

The man rushed forward with the final word and flipped his grip on the knife. Raegn recoiled and fought to keep a stable stance. The Light flowed through him, giving him additional strength and speed, but the assassin’s pace revealed he was doing the same. Raegn would be cut or stabbed, there was no avoiding that, but if he was lucky he might take less than a mortal wound. Then a strike to the throat like what Swann had done to him during the Templar trial would render the assassin helpless enough to be disarmed. A moron’s plan, but in the short moments between the assassin's footfalls it was all he could muster.

With half the distance between them closed, the assassin’s step suddenly faltered and the man met the ground with a dull thud. The shock of the impact broke the man’s grip and the dagger went careening across the dirt. Ice, Raegn realized. The fool had slipped and lost his blade. Relief washed over Raegn like a hot bath and his head began to tilt back in laughter as joy overwhelmed him. How naive had he been to stand there and face down a trained killer without having a weapon of his own. Ulrich would have chastised him from sun up to sun down. And if Kai ever found out about how the fight ended—

Raegn’s head snapped down as he realized the encounter was not yet over. He locked eyes with the assassin, then both looked to the knife some distance away. It was a mad scramble over a laughably short span of ground, but the ice put up a better fight than either of them had so far. Even so, each was desperate for the advantage the small blade would offer.

Unfortunately, the assassin was closer and reached the dagger first. Fortunately, it didn’t matter. The man slid next to the blade just as Raegn’s foot met his head. There was a satisfying clap as the hard leather of Raegn’s shoe met the soft flesh around the jaw. The assassin’s neck barely kept his head attached. The dagger fell to the ground again and Raegn kicked it away before collapsing his weight on top of the imposter servant. He couldn’t feel any more blades hidden away in a quick search, but he gripped the assassin’s wrists like a vice and pinned them above the stunned man’s head anyway.

The feeling of relief returned and this time Raegn couldn’t help but chuckle with his head turned to the stars. What an embarrassment of a victory. He should’ve been covered in gashes and clinging to his last drops of blood to earn a spot with his knee in this assassin’s back. Yet here he sat, easily defeating the feeble attempts at escape the dazed man put up.

There were shouts and the clatter of hooves as the other guests scrambled out the front side of the manor, but no one came out the rear—none save for a servant in a disheveled uniform, a disgruntled lord, and the most stunning girl at the soiree.

Raegn watched Merced mop up the last of the cold stew with a hunk of bread. He wasn’t hungry, the plate at Caulmond’s manner had been enough, but the Inquisitor had been quite forceful with the invitation to a late supper. Or perhaps it was an early breakfast? Light’s end, he didn’t even know what time it was he was so tired.

“So, everything you expected from your first real assignment with the Order?” Merced asked through a mouthful of half-chewed bread.

Raegn grimaced at the sound of the wet food slopping around in the Inquisitor’s mouth. Truth be told, he was happy the whole thing was over and he could be free of Merced’s presence, but he wasn’t going to let the Inquisitor know it. “I always thought assassins worked alone,” Raegn replied. “All the ones I’ve ever heard about did, anyway.”

“And how many assassins did you hear about while tucked away in your little valley, farling?”

Raegn drew his lips in a line. “A few.” They were all stories, of course, but some of them were probably true.

“A few?” Merced chuckled. “Well then let me tell you, the ones you’ve heard about are shit.”

The bluntness of the comment caught Raegn by surprise, but Merced gave no indication he thought the statement was especially conspicuous.

“The best assassins, you see, are the ones you’ve never read about. So good that none of their work could ever be attributed to them.” Merced took another bite of the bread and spewed crumbs as he continued to speak. “They do whatever it takes to get the job done. If that means more than just one of them, then so be it.”

“So these five were some of the best?” Raegn asked.

The Inquisitor scoffed. “Far from it. It was a tad disappointing, honestly. Whoever wanted Caulmond dead mustn’t have been able to pay much.”

The thought had crossed Raegn’s mind. Arrows and hidden daggers? It seemed rather simple. Then again, poisons were expensive and would have required direct access to Lord Caulmond’s food without arousing suspicion. There might have been a better answer than a low-paying contract, but in his tired state Raegn couldn’t come up with one.

“Do you think you’ll learn anything from the one we captured?” he asked.

Merced’s eyes gave a sparkle as he smiled. “Oh, we’ll learn plenty. But unfortunately that will be outside your purview. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be sure to include your valiant contributions to this mission in my report. Perhaps it will shorten your time in the kitchens.”

“I’m over halfway done and I don’t mind it,” Raegn answered idly.

“Really now? I’m surprised Erkan hasn’t driven you off—or killed you.”

“You know him?”

“The Eviscerator?” Merced leaned his elbows on the table. “You could say that.”

Raegn’s eyes narrowed. “So he really is a murderer? I was told he just had the same name.”

“Oh, of course not, of course not.” Merced raised his hands in defense. “A bit of fun given his usual reaction to it, is all.” The Inquisitor lost himself in thought for a short time before flexing his brow and returning to the present. He rose and slid the now-empty bench beneath the table. “Well, it seems I made a good choice selecting you, Templar Edelgard. When you get bored of patrolling shit-filled streets and guarding gates don’t forget: there’s more the Order can offer you.”

“Like becoming one of you?” Raegn grumbled.

The Inquisitor gave a hearty laugh. “You must have a great deal of confidence to make light of yourself. Caloman maybe, but you’d be a shit Inquisitor.” Raegn shot a glare at his handler. “But,” Merced continued, “you might make a decent Justicar.”

Raegn’s glare turned to a frown and he searched the Inquisitor’s eyes for the remainder of the joke.

“See? You can’t even hide basic emotions like suspicion,” Merced scolded. “You’d fit right in with the pompous Justicar, being a banner of the Light and all that.”

Raegn’s back stiffened and his lungs failed to catch his next breath. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you lack the ability to blend in with your environment when under stress. Fortunately, the Justicar rarely have to hide who they are.”

“No,” Raegn shook his head, “what do you mean by a ‘banner of the Light’?”

“Ah.” Merced delicately placed his bowl down on the table. “I mean,” he said with a flourish of his hands, “that they’re the solemn face of the Light and sole issuers of its justice, heralding the great responsibility bestowed unto them to cleanse this land of evils.” Merced finished his proclamation with arms spread wide and head lifted to the sky. The Inquisitor’s head snapped back down with a mocking grin spread across his face.

Raegn rolled his eyes and watched Merced leave, waiting until the man was well out of the hall before he rose to follow the same path. It was probably a common phrase. Everything about the Church and the Order was related to the Light, after all. Still, the phrasing had been exact. A banner of the Light. The same words Camael had used.

As Raegn walked back down the halls towards his room the sweet allure of sleep called out to him. Despite heavy eyelids, he forced himself down the stairs rather than up and descended towards the baths to wash away the day’s work from both body and mind. They’d been successful, but the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment felt tainted somehow. And you probably pissed off Tera when you barged in on her, he reminded himself. Three days of interaction and he’d only lessened the chance that she would rejoin the group of friends he’d apparently driven her out of.

The climb back up to his room had far more stairs than he remembered and his door seemed to be further down the hall than usual. He was slow to shed his clothes and even slower to don a clean undershirt and pants. After blowing out the candles that some poor Initiate had taken the trouble to light he slinked over to the bed and pulled back the blanket and sheets. He sat on the edge of the stiff mattress and was only a moment away from collapsing backward when there was a soft knock at the door.

Raegn gave the piece of wood a stern stare and debated ignoring its beckon. If it was Merced with something he’d forgotten to say certainly it could wait until later in the day. The muffled rap came again and he sighed, but didn’t have the willpower to stand.

“Come in,” he called.

A thin beam of light from the hall broke into the room as the door cracked open. His partner for the last few days slid in.

“Tera?” Raegn realized he had stood at the sound of the bed frame creaking a soft thanks in the absence of his weight. She gave no response and quietly closed the door behind her.

Despite a few awkward moments, and one horrid mistake, he did have to admit that they’d gotten along better than he’d imagined. Tonight had gone especially well until the demands of the mission had separated them. The mood had seemed solemn, if not a touch anxious, afterward. If he could manage some more pleasantries he might be able to repair the damages caused by his initial arrival some seasons ago. He was tired, though, and the chances of a misstep that would set him back were high. Raegn bit his cheek for a small shot of pain to force the fatigue from his mind and tried to strike up a conversation.

“I was talking with Merced just now and he said you might make a good—”

Tera crossed the room swiftly. Raegn was met by balled fists grasping the collar of his shirt to tug him downward and a warmth against his lips. When she released him it was but a moment. He barely had time to stand straight and sneak a breath. Arms were thrown around the back of his neck as Tera pulled herself up on her toes to kiss him again. He held her weight for a moment, then staggered back to stay upright.

She collapsed against him and whispered a soft apology into his chest.