Rise of the Underground

[Rayse Valentino]

Closed to everyone but Teric Bloodrose, for now.

The days passed in the underground with a heightened sense of urgency as Rayse returned from his excursion to The Salvic States. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=7572) Large operations were essentially packing up and leaving, others were hastily trying to sell all their goods and not taking new shipments. Rayse figured this would happen, as news of the growing unrest in the country was spreading. He knew that if anything was going to seriously start, it would start right here in Knife's Edge. Nonetheless, he was not phased by the unfolding events. He intended to pursue his business like before, but sadly that was not his destiny.

Upon returning, he found that a client had been waiting for him. One of his messengers told him he was wanted in a certain location at a certain time. Ignoring the obvious suspiciousness of this, Rayse was more than happy to oblige. After all, it was customary to meet clients face-to-face in this business, it's a form of establishing trust. Plus, anyone that screws with a businessman during such a meeting generally gets a bad rap, denying them business in the black market for a long time, sometimes forever.

Despite these supposed insurances, Rayse was walking right into a trap.

He arrived at the alleged meeting place: a large stone building, probably a monument of ancient times, remodeled on the inside to support tenants. Rayse was unfamiliar with this structure, but his eyes and ears were open as he entered. He found himself in a grand room, with two winding staircases leading to a balcony above him. A man appeared from that balcony, as if expecting The Contractor on that very moment.

"Ah, welcome Mr. Valentino! We have been expecting you," he said, in a manner befitting a noble but with an ill-bred tone.

We? Thought Rayse, already too far in as he looked towards the exit. Two men were now guarding it, and several other men came out from hiding, "Quaint place for a headquarters, wouldn't you say?"

"You are quite observant, Mr. Valentino. Our benefactor is expecting you."

Rayse found himself at a loss for words. While he did not like this situation, he was genuinely interested in why he, of all people, would be chosen by a crime syndicate boss. He knew that it had to be some sort of information he wouldn't want spreading, but what exactly he had done to even create such information was a mystery. He was lead up the stairs and down a long corridor, leading to grand doors. His two escorts opened the door, and a chair was turned behind a large desk, with two more guards standing at each side of the desk. The back of the chair faced Rayse, and as it turned towards him, it revealed a large, wide man, smoking a big fat cigar. His tiny mustache cemented his appearance as a rich, spoiled individual.

"I am Lord Bartholomew. Please, sit down," He said, in a low deep voice that Rayse couldn't tolerate.

"I'd prefer to stand," Rayse replied, looking towards the door behind him only to find it just closed tightly. What did I do to deserve this?

"Suit yourself, but I'm sure you'll want to be seated for what I'm about to tell you."

Rayse could barely contain himself from simply jumping over the desk and slitting the fat man's throat outright. He wasn't the kind of man to be pushed around, and he knew all too well what was coming. He was about to get an unreasonable request.

"Enjoy your trip to Tradepost? I hear you did amazing things there," The man began, puffing on his cigar between thoughts, "But I did not call you here to congratulate you, I wanted you for a job, yes?"

Rayse didn't appreciate the man beating around the bush, but he kept his composure, knowing that getting angry is exactly what was wanted of him.

"It's very simple. This city is about to enter turmoil, and I seek to gain a lot from the coming war. I merely want to make sure... no one else has the same idea. I want you to rub out my competitors, to put it in a way I'm sure you'll understand."

Rayse quickly replied, "I'm no assass--"

The man interrupted him, "Ah! But you are! Do you not think I heard of what you did to my dear Cratos?!"

Rayse's voice fell silent. The truth of why he was summoned was finally revealed. He was talking about the job he pulled a little while ago (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=8675) with that strange vampire (http://www.althanas.com/world/showpost.php?p=84085&postcount=1) guy. How he found out about that was beyond Rayse, he thought the means of Cratos's disposal was well concealed.

"After all, how do you think he gained so much influence around the city? It was me! All me!" The man said, his face turning red and veins popping around his forehead and hands. The cigar he was holding shook violently. Following this outburst, he calmed down a bit and continued, "Therefore, I don't think it's unreasonable to ask something of you that you are so well accustomed to."

Rayse didn't know what this man knew exactly, but he was omitting some very important details regarding that job. The Contractor formed a belief that this man was merely using the name of Cratos Horaes, and was at best an acquaintance of his. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny that this information had somehow reached his ears and he was now paying for it.

"My subordinates will familiarize you with the details. I wish I could tell you more, but I am a very busy man, what with a revolution about to begin."

Lord Bartholomew turned his seat around and the door opened, with men coming to lead Rayse out quietly.

"And by the way," said Bart with his back turned and holding a cigar up in view of Rayse, "If you somehow make it out of the city alive, don't expect to have anywhere to go to upon returning. Under the New Order, your head will be the most sought after until the day you die."

Rayse was reluctantly led out of the room, and found himself outside in a small matter of time with a folder under his arm filled with documents relating to his job. The Contractor swore to himself, that after all this is over, he will have that man groveling at his feet, begging for his life.

Later on, he sat at a table in a lonely underground bar. This area was generally a meeting place for shady dealers, its very location a secret inside a vast network of warehouses. While usually it was a bustling place, it now found itself nearly empty with a few stray stragglers. Rayse held his head in his hands, looking over the papers given to him. He found he had no choice in the matter, his retribution upon Cratos has come back to haunt him.

There were five targets in his mission, all of which big name Black Market suppliers. Rayse found this task was essentially suicidal, it was an impossible mission which would result in his death. If that was the case, why bother with all these documents? All these names and building schematics? They could've killed Rayse when he walked through the door. If he had given these papers to the right people, Barty boy (or Fatman as he now dubbed him) would be easily labeled the culprit. Rayse knew that Fatman's intention was not for Rayse to actually attempt this job, but to do something else. Something which would result in Rayse's death as well as manipulate his enemies. The Contractor found himself laughing at the absurdity of his situation.

He found that these five men were supplying The Church, which gave Rayse the impression that Fatman was helping the King. Perhaps by rubbing out The Church's allies, he would gain favor with the new government. After all, the city was The State's domain; he would have a strong, loyal support base here in case The Church revolted. Rayse didn't particularly care for the details, but he found himself sinking into his arms resting upon the stack of papers. The several empty bottles of spirits beside him nearly fell over when he plopped himself down, finding his situation hopeless. The organizations listed here were very old, with orders dating back far before Rayse was even born. Any sort of holes, how they worked, their weaknesses, any sort of form of infiltration were cemented and the possibilities erased a long time ago. He would need some sort of veteran of those days to even stand a chance of this job.

[Bloodrose]

Click...click...click... The sharp noise of a cane striking the cobblestones was uncomfortably loud, piercing the unnatural silence that prevailed over the streets of Knife's Edge. To call them deserted in the early evening would have been an understatement, as not a single soul passed or approached Teric as he strolled casually towards his destination. There was a definite pall in the air, like that of a ghost town in Fall, and it was overwhelmingly obvious that the news of brewing troubles in Salvar hadn't been exaggerating...

Everyone knows it's coming. Teric thought, his eyes scanning bolted doors and windows for signs of life. It's the calm before the storm, and everyone is taking shelter before the rain begins to fall... A side street came up on his left and Teric turned the corner briskly, almost relieved to get off the main thoroughfare. Several doors down a man in a green tunic bolted inside an open door and slammed it shut behind him, leaving the side street as deserted as the last. It'll be the storm of the century...

Coming up on one door in particular, Teric stopped long enough to glance around and make sure no prying eyes were watching. He had travelled all the way from Radasanth to visit this door, and it would be rude of him to draw unwanted attention to it. Satisfied that he was invisible to the street's inhabitants, Teric rapped the head of his cane against the door three times, pause, two times, pause, two quick, pause, and once more. It was an odd and overly extended method of knocking on someone's door, but it was the perfect way to let someone in particular know who you were. The very rhythm of the knocking brought back a tidal wave of memories for Teric...

"An owl says the 18th or the 21st?" Came an odd reply, muffled by the door. Now there was a passphrase Teric hadn't heard in more than a decade, but the question wasn't 18 or 21. The actual question was simply "Hoo, r, u" in a riddle using an owl and the alphabet. Again, more memories came to mind for the old warrior...

"Teric Bloodrose."

There was a moment's pause. "Bullshit! Teric Bloodrose is dead." Came the answer. Teric frowned, puzzled. That isn't part of the passphrase...

"I certainly am not!" He retorted, indignantly. "And it's certainly rude of you, Robert Neht, to spread rumors about me. Especially seeing as I saved your life in the Red Forest and all..."

The sound of several loud bolts and latches being undone from the other side of the door replied quickly, and with a jerk the door opened several inches, revealing a grizzled old veteran. Robert Neht, retired mercenary, stood several inches shorter than Teric and weighed considerably less. Years away from the fighting lifestyle had siphoned off most of the man's muscle mass, leaving a hunched over shadow of a man who's beard dropped past his chest. "By the Goddess herself, you really are alive!" Robert said softly, almost as if in disbelief.

"Of course I'm alive." Teric snorted, rather matter-of-factly. "And who's been saying otherwise?"

"Well...here, get in off the street." Robert ushered Teric inside, bolting the heavy door (which Teric noticed was lined and barred with steel) behind them. Robert's home, if you could call it that, was a single story, single room dwelling with a low ceiling and almost no lighting. There were no windows, and no obvious doorways but for the one leading outside. A bed occupied one corner of the room, a small iron stove and a reclining chair another, and the rest of the room was littered with weaponry.

"Nice place you have here." Teric muttered, admiring the rough hewn floor while trying to ignore the stagnant odor of old age. "You were saying?"

"Victoria, she said you were killed raiding some wizard tower in Akashima." Robert said casually, walking over to the stove to poke at the glowing embers inside. "Tea?" He asked, an interlude to the conversation at hand.

"Yes, thank you." Teric replied. "And if by 'raiding some wizard tower' you mean caught an arrow from one of her assassins while walking out of a tavern, then almost." Thinking of that past episode made an old wound tingle under his breastplate, and Teric shifted uncomfortably. "I still have to pay her back for that one."

"Can't." Robert replied. "She choked to death on an apple last year."

"I'll be sure to thank the next apple tree I come across, then." Teric said with a smile. The two men shared a brief chuckle, completely at ease and sharing conversation like they saw and talked to each other every day. In actuality it had been closer to eight or nine years since the two men had last met, and that was back when Robert hung up the sword. Teric accepted his tea with thanks, and went about blowing the steam rising off the cup.

"So what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Robert asked, settling down into his chair. He didn't bother to cool his tea, but instead took a long draw on the edge of his cup and inhaled sharply afterwards.

"I was in Radasanth." Teric replied. "Rumors started floating around that trouble was brewing in Salvar, some big to-do between the Church and his Royal Highness."

Robert nodded sagely. "The rumors don't spell out even the half of it." He said, taking another drink of his tea. "The mucky-mucks up at the Cathedral have gone and decided Iorlan shouldn't be king. They've started handing out excommunications like they were candy to children on All Hallows Eve, and everyone's getting sided up for a fight."

"What prompted all that business?"

"Poor harvest, civil unrest. The usual suspects." Robert replied, carefully. "But bad harvests and unhappy citizenry we've had before, and it's never gotten this bad. Priests don't start inciting civil war on account of a few food shortages. It's quiet out there right now, like the calm before the storm, but you watch. By later tonight all of tarnation will have broken loose."

"It's funny." Teric said, finally sipping his tea. The hot, spicy concoction rolled over his tongue and filled his belly with refreshing warmth. "I thought the exact same thing as I walking the streets."

Robert grunted. "Those same streets will be dangerous soon enough. King and Church aren't the only ones gearing up for a fight. There are plenty of shadow entities arranging their pawns on the board. You can bet that once the fighting breaks loose they'll use the opportunity given to them to take what they want."

"No guards and no priests to get in their way." Teric muttered, almost to himself. "Plenty of work for guys like us, in times like these."

"Oh, come off it." Robert retorted briskly. "Look at us; we're too old for the game now. Better to leave it to the young ones and enjoy our old age. Gods know we had to fight hard enough to see it..."

Teric smiled, taking another sip of his tea while Robert dawned on the realization from his chair. The old man's eyes narrowed questioningly, and he shook his head slightly. "You're mad." Robert said finally. "You really think you can get back into the life after all these years, at your age?"

"I have to." Teric replied, softly. "I've got nothing, and have known nothing aside from it. This is what I do Robert, and I'll keep doing it for as long as I can."

"Should have figured you came here for something other than to visit my old bones." Robert shook his head again, rising from his chair. He shuffled over to the corner and began rummaging around in the blankets near the foot of the bed. Pulling out a book, he flipped through several pages and removed a loose piece of paper. This paper he handed to Teric, and tapped on a particular name, Rayse. "Since you came all this way to find work, least I can do is get you on the right path."

"Never heard of him." Teric said, gruffly. In a matter of seconds the conversation had gone from old friends to old business acquaintances, and business between mercenaries was business - even if one was retired.

"New kid, trustworthy." Robert replied. "Word on the grapevine has it that he did some good work up by Tradepost, and certain elements within the city are already clamoring for his contract. If anyone is sure to have work that needs doing, it'll be him."

"You a good friend, Robert." Teric said with a smile. He patted the man on the back appreciatively.

"Yes, well, don't forget my finder's fee if you manage to come out this alive." Robert chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Knife Den was an old relic of its former self. In its heyday, before most respectable mercenaries were killed and replaced by dime-a-dozen half-demon shits barely old enough to swing the swords they wielded, the underground establishment would have been packed with sellswords and assassins eagerly looking for work. It was a sacred place to many who remembered the good old days, and the unspoken rule was no questions.

As was to be expected on the brink of an all out civil war, the Den was practically deserted. Most of the mercenaries and assassins in the city were likely already hired and under contract, deployed elsewhere to do their jobs. Only a few stragglers remained to stir up the dust by the bar, giving Sloan, the barkeep, something to do with his time. There was your typical black robed assassin sitting in one corner, peering at anything that moved from within the deep confines of his hood. Then you had the pair of bruisers sitting at the bar, chugging down ale with their swords still strapped to their backs. A solitary female, with a face ugly enough to curdle milk, leaned restively by the doorway with her hand on her dagger. Teric glanced over all of them, certainly not impressed enough to avoid cringing when he looked at the woman's face, before settling his gaze on a forlorn man with a stack of papers in front of him...

Bingo. Teric thought pleasantly, strolling over to the table and sitting down, uninvited.

"Nice weather we're having." He said casually, leaning his cane against his chair and admiring the host of empty bottles decorating the table. "Seems like it might rain soon, though. Storm clouds are gathering pretty quickly."

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse did not raise his head at the peculiar gesture given by this stranger. His mind was still racked with the questions looming all around him. First of all, how does everyone know about Tradepost? He just got back from there, surely news doesn't spread this quickly. Assuming what was said to him back in that accursed town held true, Dereck might be the culprit. Dereck was one of the mercenaries with Rayse that day, the one who thought of the idea, and finally the one who deserted the others after attempting something very heinous. His plot failed, of course. Rayse did not bother pursuing him, but it seems that was a poor decision on his part. Never could he have imagined so much damage from an incompetent mercenary. This was assuming that he was indeed the one behind this news.

Raising his head finally, he saw a heavily-clothed man sitting across from him. Something about his appearance seemed vaguely familiar, and this recognition was enough to warrant some sort of comment, "I have no time to look up at the clouds, old man."

To pick out a seat next to The Contractor in a near-empty establishment such as this was no small matter. Disregarding the notion that this man was merely lost, Rayse became increasingly suspicious. Could Fatman have sent an eye to check upon him already? This idea was quickly dispelled just by looking at him. He looked so old-fashioned, and Rayse could tell that the man was not as old as he appeared, despite being so pale. The unfortunate young man found himself inebriated beyond critical thinking, and figured that being irritable felt better than trying to reason all this nonsense any further.

"I also don't have time to babysit senior citizens, so leave me alone!" And waved his hand in a shooing motion, inadvertently causing his documents to become displaced. One of them found its way to Teric himself, and it detailed outdated building schematics of one of the five targets. Rayse was far too filled with alcohol to realize the ramifications of his careless action.

[Bloodrose]

Look up at the clouds? Have the passphrases and code words of old really fallen that far out of style? Teric thought, annoyed. In the past, mercenary work had always been about class and professionalism. Meetings were covert operations carried out in broad daylight, handled under the guise of talking about the weather or about 'young Mary's problem with a boy...' Names were a big no-no, and everyone used an alias. Handlers were one of two kinds of folk: completely trustworthy, or entirely corrupt. Both were dangerous, and both made a living selling men with swords and magic into dangerous situations...

Not that any of that mattered anymore...

The old ways it seemed were long dead. The men and women who used to make sellswords a reputable bunch were all rotting in a grave, or retired if they were lucky. There was a younger, dumber generation of contractors in the game now; cheaper, morally bankrupt, and with no respect. Handlers were used to dealing with these types now, so why should they know anything about how he operated? The idea of standing up and leaving crossed Teric's mind as the rude young man sitting drunk across from him went back to sulking in his arms. Something about the prospect of doing business with this man was putting a sour taste in his mouth, and why should he put up with it? There will be plenty of work to be had here. Teric thought, lending legs to his idea. Rayse here, or whatever he calls himself can find himself someone else...

As he went to stand up, Teric glanced down briefly at the sheet of paper that had wafted its way to his side of the table during Rayse's brief, drunken outburst. The paper was upside down so the old warrior had to crane his neck to get a decent look at it; there was a detailed blueprint for a large, familiar building and a dark black and white drawing of a man's face. Squinting, Teric tried to place why the building looked so familiar, and add a name to the face. He was paused for a good minute or two before a light clicked in his head, and a bright smile of satisfaction spread itself across his face.

"Stefan Tyray." He said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "My, he certainly hasn't aged well..."

[Rayse Valentino]

Teric's observation caused a sharp look over from Rayse's side. They were dangerous words, words that made Rayse curious about whether or not he was leaving this bar tonight in one piece. After all, the drawing in question was a composite sketch. For Teric to make such a comment he had to have seen, nay, personally been with this person. Rayse's alarm was the suspicion that Stefan Tyray was the one who sent this old man, and upon seeing something like this, would most certainly take Rayse's life or hold....

Actually, his gut feeling told him this conjecture was pointless. Nobody outside of his top brass has seen the man in countless years, in fact he was so well hidden that the image Rayse had was only of the only identifiers of him in the city. Not even wanted posters of that picture are up anymore. Rayse knew, however, that there was a time before all that. A time when his face was not popular enough to hide. The old man's identity piqued his interest. If he was lying, he was doing so for a reason. If he was not, despite its impossibility, well... this required further investigation either way.

"If you can tell that much, shouldn't you be dead?" Rayse smirked, somewhat more sober.

Rayse was, of course, referring to the infamous event where Stefan Tyray gathered up everyone who still knew his appearance after he made it big, and had them all slaughtered. After that, everyone made sure never to meet him in person, those that got high enough up in the organization got to see him, but with a mask in the shape of a white, smiling face over his own. Others that didn't make the cut were promptly executed.

[Bloodrose]

Seems I've gotten his interest. Teric thought. It wasn't exactly the 'Hey, maybe you could help me' interest the old warrior had been hoping for, judging by the sly smirk, but it was interest...

"I am dead, at least in some people's minds." Teric replied dryly, settling his cane back against the table and retaking his seat. Robert's earlier reaction to his surprise visit was evidence enough that certain elements within the underground already believed him to be dead, and that was valuable information. "I can assure you, though..." Teric continued, pulling his sleeves halfway up his forearms to reveal his blue, thriving veins, "...that better men than Stefan Tyray have tried to kill me in the past."

Pulling his sleeves back down, Teric pushed the building schematics back across the table in Rayse's direction...

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse liked what he was hearing. Teric was old-fashioned, but he had style. He was professional; selling himself in the best possible manner. The Contractor could immediately deduce that he was a mercenary if he wasn't some sort of spy. Various thoughts flooded his mind while Teric was speaking, but most of all he had one very prevalent thought: How convenient it would be if...

If what? Rayse could not fathom himself so lucky as to actually meet someone who knew something which could aid him. The way he walked up to Rayse, the way he commented on the picture, could he seriously be of some use?

"One more question, Mr. Dead Man," started Rayse, sliding another paper across the table. This paper contained a map of another building, but it was very rough and did not detail any back or side entrances. In fact, it didn't even have any underground passages/sewers listed, which allegedly existed under all the buildings of Knife's Edge, "Can you to tell me the number of ways to enter this building undetected?"

It was an increasingly odd question, as it not only gave away Rayse's intentions, but it played upon one of his hunches about this newcomer. It was an entirely different building from the one owned by Stefan's Syndicate. Yet, this was a building of a former ally of the aforementioned mob boss. The man's name was Bale Kenrick, another one of the five targets. What Rayse was looking for was that Mr. Kenrick and Mr. Tyray once shared the same building when they were first starting out, so if Teric knew anything about Tyray from his younger days, he would know something about this building, which was now a headquarters in itself.

This was a stretch of logic, but the idea of a veteran mercenary coming to Rayse and implying that he knew one of his targets was more than enough to warrant it. He had been pushing the idea of exactly the kind of man he needed conveniently coming in and saving him until this point, until this question.

[Bloodrose]

"Hmm..." Teric lifted the offered piece of paper up to his face and peered intently at the crudely rendered sketch. The dark lines outlined a rather bland rectangular building with no characteristic markings, few doors, and no windows. That last tidbit narrowed down the number of possibilities extraordinarily, but it also narrowed down the number of buildings it could possibly be...

...How many buildings in Knife's Edge don't have any windows? And don't have any underground either?

It felt like a trick question. The sketch was too vague, the detailed markings to few and far in between. It was like someone had tried to draw the building by simply wandering around the outside and estimating the whereabouts of things...

Bale Kenrick... Teric mused, glancing across the table at the composite on the paper that had been under the one in his hand. The name clicked like a key in a lock, and the whole puzzle fell together.

"Last I knew, Kenrick ran his operation out of an old warehouse on the North side of town." Teric offered up in introduction as he tossed the paper onto the scattered pile in front of Rayse. Picking up a bottle he peered into it as though looking for a drink, but found in empty. "The warehouse was built way back, before Knife's Edge was as populace as it is today, and before the city started their whole public works projects with the sewers. Used to be used for storing grains, so they didn't want any windows to let the cold and the moisture in..."

Rayse had a blank look on his face, as if he weren't paying attention to anything Teric was saying. Obviously not a history buff... The old warrior sighed inwardly, shaking his head. "Here." He stabbed a finger into the paper, indicating the northeast corner of the building. "When Kenrick took over the warehouse he converted it into a fortress; his thugs won't let anyone they don't know personally in or out the front door. What Kenrick's thugs don't know, however, is that the building used to have a silo attached to it that could be filled from inside. The silo isn’t there anymore, but the metal half door that allowed the silo to be filled from inside the second floor is. If we can climb up to the hatch, we can get inside through that door."

Never tried to go in that way before... Teric pondered, slighly nostalgic. Was always going the other way...

“Now, before I answer any more questions; is this a job interview? Or are you just wasting my time?”

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse could not help but grin. Fate smiled upon him this fine night, and Teric Bloodrose was its messenger. He couldn't help but chuckle with his hand on his forehead. This man not only immediately identified the owner of the building from a crude drawing, but reached back into his memory to pull out its weakness. The possibilities ravaged Rayse's mind. He was back in action.

Stifling his laugh, he looked at Teric with fire in his eyes, and a self-confident smile graced his visage. He stood up and declared, "Let me introduce myself: I am Rayse Valentino, The Contractor and M.V.P. of the business world."

He continued, "This is more than just a job, my good man. What I am about to ask you to do is risk your life in the greatest way, a risk I'm sure you're quite familiar with. This could be your last contract, or it could be the start of the rest of your life."

He waved at the bartender and yelled for his strongest, blackest brew of coffee. Rayse felt like he could trust this man completely, and for the first time today his ambitions seemed possible; his aspirations seemed real. Rayse's figure stood valiantly, his spirit set ablaze. He tossed another paper Teric's way, except this one had the reward on it...

10,000 Gold.

He gathered up the rest of the papers and stuffed them into the back pockets of his pants. Not even staying to see Teric's expression to the reward, Rayse walked over to the cup of coffee's location and chugged it down faster than an alcoholic who just failed abstinence. Feeling an energizing chill run down his spine, Rayse started for the exit, not even looking back to mention, "If you accept, follow me."

Oh, apparently Rayse had neglected to ask the man's name. He made sure to make a mental note of it once he got outside.

[Bloodrose]

Bewilderment could only begin to explain the look that crossed Teric's face as the contractor formally introduced himself, struck a daring pose, and rambled on in a fashion more befitting a used-wagon salesman. It was utterly ridiculous, and the old warrior was left hoping that alcohol was the fuel for such absurdity. While not overly enthused about working with a drunk, as they tended to make sloppy partners, he was not inclined to work with a fool either. Hopefully he is neither, and will sober up out of this stupor. Teric thought, wishfully. After all, ten thousand is a hefty purse...

Just to be sure, Teric read over the paper he had been tossed again, verifying the number of zeroes firmly in his mind before getting up from the table. Rayse was already off and running, virtually skipping to the exit in anticipation. Obviously Teric's answer had been the correct one, because his new partner's attitude had grown quite cheerier in the short time since their meeting.

Rayse Valentino, eh? Teric thought, following a little more slowly out the door. The name was entirely unfamiliar, and yet something about it tugged at the deepest recesses of an old man's memory. It felt like there was something he wanted to remember, but he just couldn't remember what. He chalked it up to old age and a failing memory, despite the fact that he could remember just about everything else from his long and illustrious career.

Outside, once they emerged up onto street level, the night was silent and cold. Early evening had passed, and the cobblestones in either direction were illuminated here and there by light peering through cracks in boarded up windows and through curtains. Teric's breath hung on the chill air like the anticipation hung on every heart and soul in the city. After all, if everything Robert and rumors said was going to happen did indeed happen, then Knife's Edge, and perhaps Salvar itself would never be the same...

"Teric Bloodrose." He said, offering his hand up for a shake as the two men stood outside.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse cheerfully shook his hand, and after letting go he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After one was lit and sitting in his mouth, he inhaled deeply. He exhaled a long stream of smoke. The familiar taste lingered in his mouth, and he could barely feel the chilly air of the city.

"Let's start over, Teric," Rayse said, his voice now calm, collected, and serious. Indeed, this was the true voice of the The Contractor. The voice that made everything he said sound like hard fact, the voice of complete and total confidence in his words. "I hope you don't mind being on a first name basis with me; we will need to trust each other completely for this."

Finding that they were now on a deserted street, Rayse explained to Teric that they had a maximum of two weeks to take out five targets, each of which more deadly and elusive than the last. Their first order of business was to go to the highest areas of the city, and make new diagrams of the enemy bases using Teric's memory. Rayse believed in the old man completely, but it was up to him to determine which of the weaknesses Teric would outline... withstood the test of time.

"The time limit is how long I give this place before it goes up in the flames of war, at which point I doubt we'll ever collect bounty. After we get through planning tonight, we'll commence operations at daybreak."

In truth, he really wanted to start tonight, but there's no way to get the alcohol out of his system in time. As Rayse began leading the way toward the first location, he said to his newfound ally, "Oh, and I wouldn't go around spouting archaic passphrases. The only ones who will acknowledge them are paranoid, retired mercenaries and certain syndicate members, the latter of which will kill you on the spot."

Rayse really didn't want to tell him about how many people clung onto the old ways, how most of them never got to Teric's age.

* * * * * * * * *

The black robed assassin walked over to the table where the commotion was a moment ago, shaking the various bottles in an attempt to find some trace of alcohol left. It was then that he noticed the piece of paper on the table, and upon glancing it over, his eyes widened.

[Bloodrose]

"Sounds like quite the assignment." Teric replied as the two men walked alone down the deserted streets of Knife's Edge. "And don't worry about me." He added. "I haven't survived this long by not knowing when and under what conditions to open my mouth."

Shuttered and darkened windows passed by on either side of them, resembling for all the world dark, gaping eyes in the walls watching them pass in the night. Whether or not real eyes lingered in those dark spots was debatable, but Teric wouldn't put it past the wary folk of Salvar to know exactly what wandered by their doorsteps.

"What I'm worried about, my young friend" Teric conversed in a generally friendly tone, "is just how you much of this monumental task you have planned out in that head of yours?" Self-interest and self-preservation were very powerful forces which often disputed with one another, but despite the shiny prize of ten thousand gold pieces lingering in his mind's eye, self-preservation still prompted questions that needed asking. "You seem to have a list of names and some fancy diagrams, but just what do you think it going to happen once we start offing such reputable baddies as these?"

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse stopped when Teric posed that question to him. His prejudice of Teric's disposition was skewed, and he found that the man, possibly from age and experience, had indeed become more cautious if this question was to arise. Rayse appreciated that kind of forward thinking, but as to an actual answer, well it depended on several factors. Most of all, it depended on what Fatman was going to do when he found out Rayse was intent on actually carrying out his mission. Would he let him do it? Would he intervene? Rayse believed the former, as when all is said and done, he would benefit from Church supporters being out of the way. He remembered something that the man escorting him out of Fatman's building said to him, "This kind of job should be advantageous to you as well, Mr. Valentino. Even if you continue working after your gracious sum is dispensed to you, you will have far less competition."

Rayse imagined that he wasn't the first hired to assassinate Fatman's competitors. It was clear that the man intended others to do his dirty work at little cost to his own manpower, or at least disrupt the operations of his enemies. He was merely the first to actually attempt them, because he had a secret weapon: Teric Bloodrose. He didn't want to tell his companion that until he entered The Knife Den, Rayse had zero chance of succeeding. Teric's addition only increased his chances to abysmal. He figured that Teric deserved to know what Rayse expected to happen at least, even if his real intentions should remain known only to himself.

"Your guess is as good as mine. After the first, they will become suspicious, and after the second they will expect it. If it's any consolation to your nerves, if the job becomes impossible we will abandon it. I'm sure whatever spoils we obtain until that point will be more than enough to retire off of, if you so desired."

Rayse lied in one critical category: He was not going to abandon the job under any circumstances. His end goal was not the job completion, or even the money: It was Fatman, pure and simple. He started walking again, content that he had quelled his partner's worries.

The next couple hours were spent going around and letting Teric's magic fingers do the work, while Rayse batted his eyes trying to stay awake. As they went along, there was one thing that bothered Rayse: Teric seemed to be able to find loopholes in each and every single one of his targets. While Kenrick and Tyray may be understandable as they spawned from the same bucket of scum, these other men were completely unrelated. To know this much, Rayse suspected that Teric was not a simple mercenary in his younger days. It occurred to him that maybe the old man was the one manipulating him, but in the end the result was going to be the same. He thought, "Ah, maybe this is what they call mutual benefits?"

At around ten o' clock, Rayse had decided that they had done enough. They came to a small stone apartment building, which was identical to all the other ones it was connected to. Inside it, there were two bottom apartments, two middle ones, and two top ones. The superintendent was a friend from Rayse's boarding school days in his childhood, so he knew he was reliable. While he also had a ranking official as a father, his friend's died while he was still in school, and all he was left with was his grandfather's business. Nobody knew that The Contractor lived here, as he generally traveled between cheap hotels during unemployment. It was only during contracts and other jobs that he used this dwelling, usually for his own safety. Inside, he found it just as he left it: Filled with various furniture he collected as payment, a small kitchen connected to a living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. The living room couch had a retractable bed which Rayse did not know about until he took off the cushions in search of loose change one day.

Dumping the papers onto the living room table, he announced, "Make yourself at home. Note that anything that is not beer in the fridge has probably expired. I'll go get some food."

He left to the other bottom apartment, knocking on the door in the same way Teric knocked on Robert's. Despite what he said to Teric, Rayse had a deep appreciation for the old arts. In fact, a certain infamous man from those days inspired him to become what he is today. Although, these sort of things don't catch on with the new generation, as the sound of footsteps came to the door with a hoarse query as to identity of the visitor.

"It's me Neil, let me borrow some grub," Rayse replied.

Neil opened the door with surprise, almost ready to hug Rayse were it not for him noticing The Contractor's annoyed expression.

"Hey hey! I heard what you did over at---"

"Shut it," Rayse interrupted, "I'm not in the mood to hear that again."

"You know," said Neil as he walked over to his pantry, "You have a funny way of asking for favors."

Rayse waited patiently at the door. He once saved Neil's life when they were both very young, and since then they have both been in an unusual friendship...

* * * * * * * *

What? I'm not telling this story, go away.

* * * * * * * *

Upon receiving several packs of spaghetti, fruits, vegetables, seasonings, milk, and other assorted foods, Rayse labored back to his door a mere few feet away, and entered, dropping all his goods on the kitchen table. While putting on the stove with a pot of water on it, he joked, "Hope you weren't expecting any meat today."

[Bloodrose]

I have a very bad feeling about this. Teric thought, agitated. It was becoming increasingly, in fact glaringly, obvious that Rayse didn't have any clue what he was getting himself into. He had a stack of papers with some names and some drawings, and from those he intended to eliminate five men, each of whom could be considered dangerous in their own right. The young man's questions in the bar were slowly beginning to seem less like job interview questions, and more like 'this guy knows stuff I can use!' questions. Teric didn't like situations involving those types of questions...

Not one bit...

The notion that Teric could disappear out a nearby window and vanish into the night was entertained briefly, with the old warrior carefully weighing his options as he gazed out into the night. He'd get over it. He thought, testing the window latch. I'd be doing him a favor really. Without me, maybe he'll reconsider his position and realize just how foolish this is. There was a lull in Teric's thoughts as he considered the ten thousand gold purse weighing in on the equation. Or maybe he won't... Ten thousand was an enormous amount of money, especially in a young man's eyes, and the likelihood that Rayse would pass up such an opportunity was slim to none.

"No matter how foolish it is." Teric mumbled aloud, with only the frost covered glass panes to listen. "I haven't survived this long by running fools errands."

But you've never gained anything without taking risks. Came his mind's retort. The conundrum of fight or flee roiled around inside Teric's head, but the sound of Rayse returning to the safe house disrupted his thoughts and brought him momentarily into the moment.

"Don't worry about me." Teric replied, sifting through the assortment of food items strewn across the tables. Picking up a tin of beans he shook the can next to his ear and listened for any sounds. The gentle sloshing in the can told him the beans were still good. "If you've ever been stuck in a foxhole for so long that you begin to contemplate what the leather of your shoe would taste like, you've gone far beyond caring what the meal is so much as when it is."

Settling down at the table he piled some of the groceries neatly off to the side and began sifting through the pile of papers that Rayse had kept close at the bar. A face here, a name there, and what their usual haunts looked like from an architectural standpoint were all poured over and committed to memory. If Teric were to actually go through with this mission, he wouldn't have time to consult his notes should things go sour. One, two, three, four...

"Hey, Rayse?" Teric asked, more than slightly perturbed. "Didn't you say there were five targets? I only have four names here..." Laying each page out carefully, he checked over each to ensure that the missing page with a composite and name wasn't stuck to the back of another page.

[Rayse Valentino]

This was the last test. Proof positive that Teric was really out of town for a long time. The last paper contained the words One, Two, Three, Four, which seemed like maybe numbers associated with various places, but they were actually names. The Four Horsemen they were called, and they didn't come into power until five years ago. A brash gang of people not much older than Rayse, they pulled a heist and happened to find a vast fortune in the process, setting themselves up to start their empire. Their gang's files were already organized, as Rayse himself knew about them and their details. They were reckless, careless, and walked around the city in broad daylight like they owned it. They were the likeliest candidates for assassination, even Fatman expected foolish men to go for them before anyone else. The problem is that they're rarely all in one place together, so once you knock one of them off, the rest will vanish, making the rest of the job impossible. It goes without saying that nobody knows what their real names are, but One-Two-Three-Four is enough identification.

While it was not so much Rayse's concern now, Teric's apparent absence only increased his suspiciousness in regards to what he knows. Technically speaking, he is a dead man. Why come back now? Maybe he was looking for a taste of the old days and trying to revive his mercenary career. Despite this genuine interest, Rayse had to maintain his professional image, as it was the only thing that kept Teric thinking he was sane for going through this. He had to remain confident and only talk about this with utmost optimism, and not peer too deeply into the man's history. He only needed to trust him, and vice versa. Rayse's one lie was not a lie to him, but to himself. Teric could leave at any time and they'd simply split up what they got thus far, but Rayse would continue on.

To put it simply, Rayse could've been out of town by now, never to return. He could've ran away and started over somewhere else. He was not going to do that, because this was his city, his life. This was his one chance at seizing the seat of power and keeping it. His one chance to make it big. No one in Salvar would would be able to use him anymore, his clients wouldn't be desperate cases that were rejected everywhere else, his employers wouldn't be out to scam him. He would have it all.

Either way, he wanted to keep Teric's participation as long as possible. He had no doubt that the man could flee at any moment, and he wondered... Could he revive Teric's mercenary spirit? What would he be like? Rayse did not realize it, but deep inside him he had a premonition. A dark, locked up premonition that dared not leave his subconscious. While he was preparing the food, he told Teric about The Four Horsemen. He mentioned that as targets, they would certainly be the last. After all, if they actually succeed in procuring an early grave for a few of these scumbags, The Four Horsemen will be the prime suspects.

Rayse tried to be earnest in his words as he said, "Believe me, I know how insane this all sounds, but if you were given the choice of one hard job and a thousand easy ones and the pay was the same, which would you choose? That's just the kind of man I am. I'm not crazy though, I go through thousands of possibilities in my head for each task and make sure I get it right the first time."

Rayse wondered if his over-confident tough guy act was helping the situation or harming it, as his opinion of Teric's personality was still up for debate. He knew that if he said it in a way that implied he would never work again after this, it would be a lie. No matter how much money he earned, he would still be working until the day he died. He didn't want to stop until he was on top of the world. This was not unusual for young men of his age, but it still was quite an ambition. He was unsure of what Teric really wanted, but for now he was still here and willing. Perhaps deep inside the old man was the soul of a true risk taker. Rayse knew that Teric would not fully entrust his life to him yet, and despite his confidence in getting people to believe in him, he didn't quite know how to convince Teric. Without the full spectrum of trust, this job was looking bleak, but he had no choice but to press on.

Thinking he had around fifteen minutes or so before the food was ready, he decided to go take a shower. Before walking into the bathroom, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a thin necklace that was hanging on the inside. It was his mother's necklace; the only memento he had of her. While he could only remember her face, it was enough for him. To know that someone loved him so much amidst this world of hate and fear was enough for him to live as long as possible. His memory of her wouldn't be so short if she had lived beyond two years of his infancy. The necklace was a custom-made design that his mother got from her mother, with a small golden emblem of his family's crest. Rayse refused to take it into the bathroom, so it stayed on top of a drawer to the right of the bathroom door.

[Bloodrose]

I don't know about you Rayse, Teric thought as the man disappeared into the bathroom, if the pay is the same, I'm taking the thousand easy jobs... Less chance of getting killed that way.

The old warrior's mind was settled now. Rayse was in over his head, and from the bravado and self-assured confidence oozing off the young man, he was either oblivious to it or too stupid to recognize it. Either way, Teric wasn't sticking around to go down with the sinking ship once Rayse got his operation underway. Ten thousand gold or no, the money was no longer important to Teric. All that mattered now was cutting loose and getting away clean with his mind and body still in one piece...

The sound of running water came pouring out of the bathroom, and Teric waited for the sound of water hitting the floor of the tub to change. An empty shower has a very distinct and steady sound to it, while the noise of an occupied shower fluctuated and varied as the person inside moved and washed. It was one of those mundane differences most people would pay attention to, but Teric paid attention to it now to decide on the opportune time to leave the safe house.

Now.

Teric rose from the table and moved quietly into the kitchen. He shifted the pot on the stove to a cooler spot to prevent the water from boiling over, and then checked to make sure he had all his belongings. Moving towards the bathroom, he crept close enough to the door to reaffirm that Rayse was indeed preoccupied enough to not come strolling out of the bath just as Teric decided to leave by the front door. Good, he's in there splashing around. Teric confirmed, taking a step backwards. As he moved back towards the kitchen he glanced down to make sure he didn't bump into the table standing by the bathroom door...

"By the Goddess!" The old fighter inhaled sharply, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Resting on the table was a thin gold chain with a memento pendant. The delicately crafted crest on the pendant depicted a single rose with what one might assume to be a rain or tear drop hanging from one petal. It was an emblem very, intimately, familiar to Teric. Reaching up, Teric pulled aside the fluffy ermine lining the edge of his coat covering his heart to reveal a similar rose; one with a single drop of blood clinging to one petal. It was a necklace he hadn't laid eyes on in over twenty years, and had never imagined seeing again...

The last time I saw this necklace was the last time I was in Salvar. Teric mulled, picking up the jewelry and caressing the pendant lovingly. I gave it to my sister after our mother died, right before she gave birth to her... A shudder ran down the length of Teric's spine, reminding him of something he'd though over earlier. That deep, forgotten memory that had been on the edge of his mind standing outside the bar with Rayse came sudden to the forefront, reminding Teric of why he thought the young contractor had looked familiar. Impossible. The old warrior set the necklace down reverently, and backed away quietly. Improbable rather, but still...

Teric found himself sitting back down at the table in the kitchen, his swordcane sitting next to him. All of a sudden his urge to leave Rayse behind was gone, replaced instead by something Teric couldn't quite put into words. "Of all my luck, Victoria, I think I may have run into your brat - and must keep him out of trouble..." The old warrior sighed, talking aloud with the dearly departed...

[Rayse Valentino]

As Rayse stood under the shower nozzle, he began to think that what he said out there wouldn't be very appealing to Teric. Honestly, dealing with a man like that was very difficult. While generally he could get a good grasp of the personality of his clients, he couldn't make head or tails out of Teric. It was as if the old man was at war with himself. He wouldn't be surprised if he walked out only to find Teric had fled already. He already had contingencies for such an event. After all, Teric had given him the means to accomplish his task, he could technically still do something... but not much. He wasn't some sort of one-man army; if no one watches his back during this, he'll soon a find a knife in it.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel and drying his hair with a second one. With only a glance at Teric, he walked into his room, sighing with relief once he was inside. When he was fully dressed, he walked back and put the necklace on, tucking it under his shirt again. It was more of a tradition than anything, but originally it was to keep it close to his heart. He needed this necklace in boarding school, now it was just a habit. While walking past Teric to the kitchen, he felt somewhat uncomfortable. Teric was avoiding making direct eye contact. Already given up on trying to figure the old coot out, Rayse walked over to the kitchen and noticed the pot had been moved. He timed his shower so he would have enough time to do this himself, but whatever.

After an especially awkward meal, Rayse decided to lighten the mood with some business talk. Their plans for tomorrow were to be finalized tonight, and Rayse already had a good idea of what sort of mission briefing to give.

"Alright Teric, I've kept you waiting long enough. Right now it's eleven o' clock, which gives us about five hours before we begin. Our catch of the day will be Bale Kenrick. I've determined that the early morning is their weakest point, not to mention they are underhanded in security because of the war preparations. Anyway, why it's a good time doesn't matter. Of all the things you detailed, the silo thing is definitely the way to go. Not only is it a way to get in undetected, but when we were studying it we saw some boxes around the silo half-door. From there, I'm relying entirely on your memory of where Kenrick is supposed to be. He's an old-fashioned guy; there's been no change to the building's schematics since he took over, plus I heard that his former boss used to use that room back when him and Stefan were underlings themselves."

Rayse stopped his train of thought for a moment, there was another critical part of Teric's memory that he made special note of.

"Due to the routes that the guards use... We'll have to stay in Kenrick's room for about ten minutes. Then, when we leave it, we'll only have five minutes to get out of the building. There are plenty of loopholes, but-- I can't account for any changes in security they've made. We'll make note of the initial guard positions to determine if they're the same or not. The silo door leads into a supply room, so we'll easily be able to sneak into the hallway. With two of us, we'll be able to cover both our front and back. Also, the only evidence Kenrick will even be in that room is from my original papers, which so far match up with our versions. Once we're out of the building through the same way we came in, we'll be free as birds. They won't even know what hit them until it's too late."

Rayse made no mention of Fatman employing him, in fact blackmailing him. He knew this whole time that maybe with the whole story, Teric would be a little more sympathetic to his cause, but most likely it would cause him to abandon the young contractor immediately. It hadn't occurred to Rayse that Teric could know something about Fatman that would be useful.

The whole time Rayse was talking, he was tracing their route with his finger over the building map. Once he was finished, he asked, "Any questions?"

[Bloodrose]

More than a few... Teric thought, his eyes wandering to the young man's neck. One could just barely make out a sliver of the gold chain around Rayse's collar, and a million questions begging to be asked all rushed to mind at once. What was your mother's name? What was your father's name? How old were you when your mother passed away, bless her soul? These were all questions poised on the tip of Teric's tongue, and each would have yielded an invaluable clue as to whether or not Rayse was indeed his nephew...

"Why don't we get started now, if you've got it all planned out?" Teric asked instead, pushing aside the questions he wanted to ask with a mouthful of food. He chewed the last bits slowly, taking his time before adding, "It would be much simpler to sneak in and strike Kenrick in the nighttime hours, while most of his cronies are dreaming. We can catch him in his sleep, slip out, and be on to the next target before anyone even knows what's afoot."

The more of these bastards we can get to before they realize someone is after them, the better. He thought as he pushed away the empty dinner plate. Otherwise it's going to become next to impossible to locate and get close to them.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse paused, wondering why Teric was in so much of a rush. Rather than an actual interest, he seems to have more of a 'let's get this over with' attitude. He shook his head, getting rid of these thoughts that related to Teric's thought processes. It was an especially difficult task given his nature, but he determined that this would be the last he would dwell on it.

"Well, we saw a lot of activity when we were spy-- er, observing them tonight. I believe they were moving massive shipments of weaponry, which would make right now their prime time. I don't expect this to end for several hours, so that's why we have to wait. Also, I have no intel on Kenrick's whereabouts during this time, so that's another reason (although Kenrick's location in the early morning is just a rumor)."

It seems that Teric had no other concerns about the general idea. Rayse was expecting his partner to point out a contradiction or two, but he seemed to find the plan agreeable. Only a few small details remained.

"Until we're in Kenrick's room, we are to be soundless. We can't afford to get caught by any of the guards. Even if we take them out and hide the bodies, we'll have wasted too much time and a guard will be directly on our path. Kenrick's room has two doors, both of which must be opened simultaneously for the trigger-lock to not alert the entire base. He will be inside, as I have heard numerous times that he has some sort of habitual procedure at that time, in that room. I'm actually surprised he's lasted this long with such loose security in this first place, but that's also why he's our first target."

Rayse rummaged through one of his drawers and pulled out a small piece of cloth with an emblem of a black armored horse on a red background and put it on the table in front of Teric.

"This is what we'll use to draw attention away from us. The Four Horsemen will be blamed for this incident, and for at least a few days there will be some serious meetings by the various syndicate leaders. Main reason I'm using them is they had some bad blood with Kenrick's thugs a while ago, and I plan on reviving that hostility, or at least make enough reference to it to wash away our suspicion. Using whatever intel I can scrounge up, I will determine the location of these meetings and it is very likely another one of our targets will be there."

Rayse tried to make the point that this was a multi-pronged plan with various contingencies. There was no way to accurately predict just what will happen after the first target is down, so several possibilities will open up and Rayse will have to interactively choose which one is the most viable.

"After all, we can't just go from target to target. The rest of tomorrow will be spent collecting information from the right sources, as well as some new sources. By the time it's the day after tomorrow, we'll have our next target, and move on from there. This is a very delicate process, and honestly Kenrick is the only one who leaves himself so open, comparatively speaking. If you have anything you'd like to add to the post-Kenrick plan, it will have to be tomorrow, not tonight. I've already confirmed your acceptance of tomorrow morning's operation. I'd like to get any objections out of the way right now, so we can head off to bed already. If you can't sleep, that's fine too, I have a coffee maker."

With that, Rayse got up and pulled the cushions off the couch in the living room. He pulled the bed out and laid it down, covering it with various sheets and a couple pillows. After this task he held his face, secure that he had turned away from Teric. It would be pretty unprofessional for Teric to know how drunk and, well, destitute Rayse was back in that tavern. Looking back at it, he really wasn't sure what came over him back there. His pride, his dignity? He still did not like the idea of being some sort of hired gun for wholesale slaughter, but now it nested itself in the tree of a deeper plan. The original ten thousand are a pittance compared to the wealth Rayse plans on acquiring. It was worth a small loss of dignity and pride.

[Bloodrose]

A note: bunnying on both sides for the entirety of the thread has been, and was, preapproved beforehand. Just in case anyone was wondering...

Go to sleep old man, Teric's mind whispered softly, it'll help to clear your mind...

The curtain fell back into place over the window as he moved away from his vigil, leaving the darkened street outside the cool glass to its secrets. The safe house was dimly lit by a lone lamp in one corner of the living room, so the old warrior took his time weaving around the furniture to the pull-out bed. Rayse had long since retired to the bedroom, maybe three or four hours ago, and the sounds of the young contractor rolling around in his sleep were audible in the quiet of night. He can't sleep either. Teric thought, sitting carefully on the side of the sofa-bed. He set his cane down nearby, where it would always be within arm’s reach, and settled more comfortably into bed...

Four... The hour rolled past as Teric lay with his eyes closed, trying vainly to sleep. There was no place for rest in his mind, as his thoughts were too busy dredging up old memories that might prove useful in the coming hours. Was there a hallway adjoining that room? Or was it another room? Were the types of thoughts flitting across the back of his eyelids, staving off sleep and carrying the old warrior slowly towards the morning.

Where did Kenrick sleep again?

By five in the morning Teric had suffered enough pensive waiting. It was time for action, and action was something Teric could wrap his mind around. Planning, strategizing, and waiting for the optimal conditions were all fine and good, but only to a point. It could be said that Teric Bloodrose was more of a doer than a thinker, and it was in the heat of battle that the sharpest tools in his mental arsenal could be put in to play.

Rising from the sofa-bed, having not even bothered to crawl under the covers, Teric gathered up his belongings and made sure everything was in order. His breastplate went on and was securely buckled, his boots buckled as well. On went his coat, and Teric grabbed up his cane expectantly. Finally, striding through the safe house, his iron shod boots clunking on the wooden floors, Teric entered the bedroom.

"It's time to get up Rayse." Teric said softly, knowing full well that the young man was likely awake and itching to go. The night must have been unkind to the man; a night full of doubts and worries, wondering if he had covered all his bases. "We have business to attend to..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The streets outside Kenrick's warehouse were deserted, and whether it was the early hour or the brewing unrest in the city that attributed to that fact was not something Teric was overly worried about. More worrisome was the retinue of armed guards that were patrolling around just inside the walls of the large, nondescript building jutting out of the ground like a fortress. There were no windows, and the lone door was on the opposite side of the building. Just above where Teric stood, up about thirteen or fourteen feet, was the old hatch door that used to lead into a silo that once occupied the area that was now just another street...

[Rayse Valentino]

The first time is always the hardest.

Before the boy lay a body. The knife was on the floor, covered in the same blood that was all over the boy's hands and clothes. He stared at his hands in disbelief, stared and wondered what he had just done.

"What... what did you do?!" Spoke a voice from the darkness that surrounded the boy, "Do you know what you just did?!"

"I had to," answered the boy, his eyes hidden behind his long hair, "I wanted to."

"To save me?" Asked the voice in the shadows, the voice of another boy.

The boy did not answer. He wondered if that life was worth anything. He wondered if the life he saved was worth anything. Suddenly, his mother's necklace was in his hands. Ah yes, his own life was worth something.

The act of taking a life for self-preservation was enough reasoning for the boy. From the second time onwards, he would employ this logic, no matter how twisted it became.

The darkness covered the boy up, and suddenly Rayse could see the ceiling of his room. He was on the floor, half-covered by sheets. He slowly got up and rubbed the sand out of his eyes. He didn't think he'd be able to get to sleep that night, but although he was tossing and turning, he seems to have rid his system of the alcohol. Checking the clock on the wall, it seems he got up when he wanted to; four o' clock. He told Teric before retiring to bed that it would take about an hour to get ready, so they wouldn't actually leave until five. There was something about Teric's name that bugged him since the beginning, but after that dream the thought reared its ugly head again. He did not like to pursue mysteries with no conclusion, so he disregarded it once more. To kill a worthless excuse of a man such as Bale Kenrick was of no consequence to Rayse, he has already killed many lesser men, many of which were common thugs who didn't know any other profession besides violence.

He wasn't about to go out there in his casual clothes, especially when he wanted to avoid anyone recognizing him. He already knew what he was going to wear, and knew what weapons to bring. Every contingency needed an answer, no matter how unlikely the possibilities were. While he predicted no problems getting to Kenrick, he knew the five minute window of opportunity for escape could lead to some sticky situations. There's also the chance of, well, Teric turning traitor. Considering how cautious the old man was, it was very peculiar how he is going along with all of this. He had some ulterior motive, Rayse knew it. Hopefully it was revenge against one, some, or all of these men. Pushing a stool next to his bed away, he revealed a loose floorboard. Pulling it off, he started taking out the contents of this secret compartment. Among his inventory were several 5" long, 1.25" wide black, steel throwing knives. He picked one up and aimed it at a dart board across the room, and let it fly. It landed just off-center, which made Rayse a little worried, but he was sure that when it counted, he wouldn't fail.

Five minutes later he looked in the mirror, moving his head around and examining the fit of his new outfit. He was wearing a very dark navy-blue long-sleeve shirt with the top part extending into a tight-fitting mask that covered everything below his eyes. The mask was pulled down, as he was enjoying what would be his last smoke until this is all over. Inside his sleeves were various fastenings for his throwing knives that could be released with a very specific and precise movement of his arms. His pants were of the same color, but very loose and tied around his ankles and waist with white wraps. His black running shoes fit tightly to his feet. He felt like more of a ninja than an assassin. Although, ninjas can easily be assassins. It took another ten minutes to get various black straps on his body to flatten out his outfit, which was a little too loose. A couple more throwing knives were on sheaths around his waist, and in a slightly larger sheath to his side was his knife Kapteyn, which was originally tied to his ankle.

As Teric walked in, he had quite a sight of the young contractor. He didn't expect Rayse to look like he knew what he was getting into, not to mention the general assassin-like appearance of the young man. The handle of the knife Kapteyn was visible to Teric, which could tip him off about Rayse's experience in the Salvarian Army. Rayse's father was the one that pushed that profession onto him, attempting to make him more like himself, a general of the army. Rayse did not know what position his father was in now, nor did he really care. Hopefully he'll get killed in this war and that'll be the end of that.

Rayse smiled, holding his cigarette up like a torch, "Business indeed."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rayse looked up at the silo door, straining his eyes to see it. He put his hand on his mouth, but quickly took it off, remembering the mask. He already longed to take it off and get another smoke in, but he knew that the prospect was impossible until the evening. The wall was steep and they were unlikely to scale it, so it was fortunate that there were boxes piled on top of each other against the wall. They both climbed the boxes, but found they were still several feet short of actually reaching the bottom of the door. There was a small lining of floor jutting out beyond the door, just enough to stand on. If Rayse could get up there, he could pry the door open. Teric got in front of the door and laid his hands in front of Rayse, and Rayse put one foot on them. Taking a deep breath, Rayse pushed down with his foot and jumped upwards, having Teric's strength lift his foot up to the door. He found himself hanging off it, and with some effort pulled himself up and had to nearly hug the wall to keep balance. Alright alright, keep it together. All I have to do is pry this thing open and I'm in.

Bracing himself first, he started pulling the doors apart. Nearly losing his balance, he managed to get the door open. It was apparently one of those sliding doors, but he didn't know which direction to push so he pushed both of them. Stepping inside, he found himself in a supply room. Not that he was going to doubt Teric now or anything, but it looks like this building was indeed unchanged from Teric's last memory of it. Having a rope thrown up to him, he pulled his partner up and they both found themselves inside.

Directing Teric to the door leading into the hallway, he whispered, "Lead the way. From this point on, not a peep."

[Bloodrose]

Teric nodded in the affirmative. Outside the warehouse the night was quiet enough, but inside the silence was almost oppressive. It permeated everything like a muggy, corporeal fog, and just the noise of Rayse's whisper was enough to slice through it like a knife. How anything could live and move in such silence without being detected was unimaginable, and Teric was pleasantly surprised to find that their pulling open the old and rusted silo door hadn't attracted the type of attention he had worried it would...

Seems Rayse is a little more prepared for this than I am. The old warrior thought, slightly amused as he began inching his way towards the door in front of them. He had put up such a fuss about how ill prepared and unready Rayse was for this operation, and yet the tables seemed turned by their given situation. Rayse was all gussied up like an Akashima ninja, perfectly dressed for stealth, while Teric was still in his typical clothes: heavy coat, breastplate, iron-shod boots, etc. Not exactly sneaking garb, but then again, stealth had never been one of Teric's strong points.

Reaching the door, Teric eased himself over to the left side of the frame so that the door would open past him. With his cane in his left hand, he slowly turned the knob with his right, and slowly pulled the door open a couple of inches. The hinges gave a short creak in protest, but swung smoothly until Teric could poke his head out into the hall. To the right was a length of darkened corridor with several doors. To the left was more hallway, a bit better illuminated, ending in a staircase that descended down to the first level. Let's see... Teric thought, trying to remember...

Last time I was here, I met Kenrick downstairs. We had a glass of brandy, and talked about the good old days. Kenrick came upstairs, I followed... As Teric replayed events long since passed in his heads, ghostly visages of Bale Kenrick and a much younger Teric Bloodrose ambled past the doorway. The memories chatted with each other like old friends, although then, like now, Teric was just doing a job and not at all interested in Bale as a person. Back then he had been working for Bale, but this time around he was working for someone else...

The ghosts of bygone days stopped in front of a door two down to the right, and on the left side of the hall. The ghosts continued to chat away silently as the visage of Bale produced a key and turned it in the lock. The oak door didn't open, but the ghost disappeared through the portal regardless, leaving Teric with the memory.

Through that door, down a short hall is Bale's quarters. The old warrior smiled as he recollected the layout. Seeing no one, Teric slipped out the door and moved slowly down the hall to the right. He hoped that Rayse would stick close right behind him, but didn't stop long enough to check. Rayse would do his own thing, and it wasn't Teric's job to babysit him. Reaching the door through which his ghost's had entered, Teric tested the knob carefully...

It's going to be locked. He thought miserably, already dreading having to pick the lock and worrying about the noise it would make. It would be so much easier to just kick in the door and be done with all this sneaking around, but that wasn't in accordance with Rayse's plan. He'd just have to...the knob turned easily and the door popped open with a whisper quiet click!. Teric tried not to let the surprise register on his face as he opened the door a couple inches and peered down the dark hallway on the other side. Must be getting forgetful in your old age Bale. Teric reprimanded his prey.

Turning, Teric raised his hand and gestured for Rayse to take point through the door.

[Rayse Valentino]

Before fully closing the door, Rayse listened for the sound of footsteps on the other side. It was eerily quiet, and and it seemed that they were both close to their target. How are we this close already? Maybe Teric remembered the silo door first because it was his quickest escape from this place, but this is still too convenient. Finally hearing footsteps, he waited until they passed, and then motioned for movement. Rayse put their time limit around ten minutes before that guard returned, judging only by Teric's memory. The hallway itself was empty with several doors on each side, and at the end were two large doors. Looking one last time at the door with the open lock behind him, Rayse figured one of two things: either the door was open because it was recently used and the user was going to lock it very soon, or this was all some sort of trap... maybe orchestrated by Teric Bloodrose himself. Once again, the thought was unlikely.

They quickly proceeded to the end of the hallway, stopping before most of the doors to check for any signs of life inside. It appears that back in the day, all of these rooms were offices filled with seedy businessmen. Before places like The Knife Den, mercenary work was much more of a proper business, filled with passphrases and true professionalism. Many different countries would come in and ask for the best, and they would usually receive them. The empire was headed by a revolutionary man, but Rayse couldn't figure out his name. The founder of the old empire supposedly died more than forty years ago, and his theories of mercenary work prevailed for at least twenty years onwards, at which point it died out and was replaced by this new generation of ingrates. A new generation that did not understand order and rules, a generation that is perhaps inciting the coming civil war. It was entirely possible some members of the ancient order became truly powerful, and their descendants find themselves in the royal palace.

When they got to the door, Rayse put his ear on it, listening intently for any signs of movement inside. To his surprise (although he really shouldn't be surprised), there was some. Rayse motioned Teric to stand against the other door. He began counting to three using his fingers, and at the end of the count, they both pulled the handles and shoved the doors in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bale Kenrick, as was his routine, once again got out of bed, got dressed, and walked downstairs. The few guards on his route saluted him and continued on their patrol. He had a bitter taste in his mouth that his wine couldn't cure, and he needed to get inside his office. His empire, and even the building it was housed in, was crumbling. He knew that he would have nothing when this is all over. There was only one way to save all that he's worked for, and it was in the safe he has been visiting every night for a month straight. He did nothing but walk up to it, open it, and stare inside, waiting for the one answer to his many questions.

He was an aged-looking man, who was slightly balding and had long brown hair that went behind his ears and extended into sideburns down his cheeks. He was wearing a brown shirt under his gray vest, as well as worn pants with old boots. He opened the lock to the famous hallway of the past, of which he was the sole resident now, and walked inside. The doors loomed over him as he made his solemn march, and soon enough he found himself staring inside the opened safe. There were several folders inside, some money, and a small wooden box that was long enough to contain a dagger. Could he really give up the old ways? He had to think fast, because once the civil war came, it would be too late.

Suddenly, the doors of his office opened, and he scrambled to close the safe, but it was too late. He was knocked out cold by a young ruffian who looked like some sort of Akashima ninja. When his eyes next opened, he was tied to a chair with his hands bound behind the chair against his back, and a piece of rope wrapped around his head and in his mouth. His feet were also bound together, but rather than struggling, he sat with contempt in his eyes for the ones that did this to him. His eyes were only fixed on the younger one for a moment before he fixed them on the older gentlemen, and his eyes widened.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully," started the younger one, "Any sort of loud noise out of you and I slit your throat. Now, I'm going to take off the rope."

He took off the rope covering Bale's mouth and the man spent the next few seconds spitting out splinters. He then went back to his enraged staring of Teric. Rayse was somewhat annoyed that he was being ignored. His mask was off now, and he twirled a throwing knife around his left index finger.

He picked up a piece of paper from a small pile that had some documents on the desk and asked, "Now, what is this about a sale?"

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, boy," said Kenrick, his voice hoarse but not too deep, still staring at Teric.

Rayse still felt like he was being ignored, because not once did Kenrick make eye contact with him when he said that. He seemed to have some sort fixation on Teric, but neither of them spoke up about it. They still had a few minutes, so he walked back to the safe, pulling out the wooden box and setting it down on the table. Kenrick did not seem to care, as his view was solely the old mercenary in front of him. It seems he was finally ready to say something to his old sellsword.

[Bloodrose]

"You're supposed to be dead." Kenrick hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits as the two men, former employer and former employee, stared each other down. Rayse may as well have not been in the room, so fixated on Teric was Bale's gaze.

"I've been hearing that a lot these days." Teric responded coolly. The old warrior kept his voice low and hushed, sitting down on the edge on Kenrick's desk and propping one foot up on the edge of their captive's chair. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Whatever." Kenrick spat. The man was obviously agitated, tense, and angry. Of course, who wouldn't be after getting knocked out and tied to a chair in your own office? He struggled feebly against the ropes, bunching the muscles in his shoulders and arms to try and pull his hands apart. It was all for naught, however, and the man went back to staring daggers in Teric's direction. "I don't suppose I could offer you enough money to let me go, could I?" The businessman grinned, defeated.

"Afraid not, old friend." Teric replied. Years ago the offer might have tickled the old warrior's fancy, and the customary response of 'How much money are we talking about?' would have flowed off Teric's tongue like a favorite childhood saying. One had to take into account, however, that years ago money had held a much greater importance for Teric than it did now. That wasn't to say that money wasn't still very important, but it was to say that it certainly wasn't important enough to forgive a man who'd tried to have him killed...

Raising his cane, Teric pointed at the wooden box on the table. "What's in there?"

"Bugger yourself!" Was Bale's violent response. The man jerked forward in his chair, dragging the legs across the floor. The sound was unacceptably loud compared to the quiet lull that had settled over the room before.

"Watch it." Teric warned, raising his eyebrow. "My friend here doesn't like loud noises."

Bale's response was to take a couple deep breaths and sit despondently in his chair. A moment passed in relative silence as Rayse rifled through the stacks of papers in Bale's safe. Teric sat, tapping his fingers against the side of his cheek as he waited patiently for the young contractor to give the 'Let's get out of here' signal. Truthfully, Teric was rather interested to know why they hadn't left already. It would be easy enough to simply kill Bale, take all his papers, and get away safely to study them later. It was at that moment that Bale locked eyes with Teric once more, this time on accident, as though the man was looking to see if Teric was watching...

"Don't." Teric stated firmly, harshly.

"Somebody-!" Bale's shout was cut short as the head of Teric's cane smashed the man in the mouth, sending blood and chips of tooth flying. Kenrick's head recoiled and rolled about on his shoulders as blood flowed through a broken smile and down his chin onto his chest. Despite its brevity, somebody must have heard something, as the muffled din of chairs being pushed back from a table emanated from downstairs, and heavy boots hit the stairs at the end of the far hall.

"Time to go!" Teric hissed at Rayse, grabbing up the wooden box and making for the door. "Move it!"

[Rayse Valentino]

There knelt Rayse behind Kenrick's chair, holding a knife in the man's back. He had been just as quick to jump at the man as Teric was, but he was too late as well. He pulled the knife out and stood up, sheathing it.

"Damn it, I said I would slit his throat."

Odd that his promise came to mind faster than the need to get the hell out of there. He looked at the papers on the desk and the safe. He determined earlier that the safe was part of the wall to the right of the doors from his point of view in the middle of the room, and that the portrait on the floor probably covered it up. He ran up to the safe and closed it, putting the portrait back in its place. Although it might be futile, he didn't want anybody to know that they saw what was inside. Rayse thought that maybe Teric's heavy coat was useful in this mission after all.

Running up to Teric and stopping him, he put his hand on the man's shoulder and said, "Quick, get the papers first! Stuff whatever you can that was on the table and follow, I'll buy some time."

He stuffed the piece of cloth with The Four Horsemen's emblem in Kenrick's bloody mouth. Putting his mask up, he pulled open the doors they had both closed earlier and broke into a sprint. At the other end of the hallway a guard was running at him, but before he knew what he was seeing, he had a throwing knife lodged into his arm, causing him to drop his blade. As he recoiled in pain, he suddenly felt something sharp at his neck, and Rayse was already standing behind him.

In a low voice, Rayse whispered, "The old business district, Emerald Street east side, 9 o'clock, there's a pretty purse waiting for you there if you meet with me. Your boss is dead. You're out of work. I can pay well. Come alone."

The man heard no more, as Rayse punched him in the back of the head from above, causing him to fall unconscious. 'The old business district' was the name of the area known as 'business district number 2' on records, which had been shut down a week ago due to reports of subversive activities against the throne. Two other districts were shut down as well, and the decree can be read loud and clear in all the newspapers, but this was irrelevant right now. At this point Teric caught up, and they both got out of the short hallway before any further guards showed up. Running into the supply room from the main hallway, they both found themselves at the silo door and jumped, landing and breaking the boxes below. Several flashlights brightened the boxes from all sides, but there was nobody to be found in the shining light. Rayse and Teric, sweating up a storm, found themselves in an alley safely away from the building.

Rayse pulled his mask off, still exhausted from the running, "H..Hah.. didn't I tell you I had it covered? That went smoother than I thought. Let's go back to the 'hideout'."

The hideout, of course, was Rayse's apartment. Making sure no eyes were following them, he finally got inside the front door and went straight for the beer, bringing several to the table and downing them like nobody's business.

"Lighten up, we got time to spare. Relax, get some rest and grub, we have plenty of time to plan for our next target. If it's as easy as this one, we won't need to waste much time planning at all."

On the table were the various documents stolen from Kenrick's safe, the small and very locked wooden box, and roughly 326 gold that was in there as well. Rayse was planning to buy quite a bit of information with that. In his sleeve was a paper that Kenrick had about Fatman, which Rayse decided to keep to himself. There were countless documents in there, and Rayse picked out only these several, and if Teric saw something about Fatman he might get suspicious about Rayse's true intentions. It wasn't until he retired to his room to change out of his clothes that he hid the paper under his mattress for the time being. He didn't get a chance to ask Kenrick a few important questions that he may or may not have answered. At the very least, the 'Teric is dead' rumor apparently has infamy among the old coots. At least confident that Teric wasn't out to get him, he walked back into the room in his casual clothes and sat down, looking the papers over with Teric.

[Bloodrose]

All those hours of planning for five minutes of infiltration. Teric was thinking, a bewildered smile on his face. His coat rustled and crinkled as he jogged, so stuffed were the pockets with paper's taken from Kenrick's desk. He hadn't gotten a good look at them as he and Rayse had made their quick getaway from the warehouse, out the same door they came in by, but Teric had a gut feeling about what they detailed. The only thing Kenrick valued in this world was his business, however illicit and below board it was, and anything taken from Kenrick's safe was likely to do with said business...

They turned the last corner and secreted themselves away in Rayse's safe house apartment once more. As soon as the door was closed, Rayse was heading for the fridge, a mischievous smile painted on his face like a clown's. By the boy's gait and mood you'd think they'd just accomplished some grand feat. If you call breaking into a warehouse, killing a man, and getting away by the skin on your teeth a feat... Was Teric's rebuttal to himself. The old warrior sincerely hoped that Rayse didn't plan on such extensive and pointless plotting and strategizing before each and every kill. Were they to do so, the Church and the Crown would likely settle their dispute long before Rayse and Teric finished offing the crime bosses supposedly operating in the shadows.

"Take it easy with those." Teric muttered to Rayse as he sat at the table, indicating the beers. The not-so-humorous thought that Rayse might complete his full circle each time - get drunk and then plan and strategize for hours - crossed Teric's mind. As he sat down, the old warrior fished a handful of crumpled papers out of his pocket and began smoothing them out on the table.

"Let's see," Teric said, grabbing at least one beer away before Rayse got his grubby young mitts on it. Pop! went the cap as Teric used the edge of the table for a bottle opener, and took a sip of the brew as he began pouring over the stack of papers. The taste of hops and barley was bitter on the old man's tongue, but the text on the page in front of him was even bitterer...

"There are a lot of big names here." Teric said slowly, trying to keep Rayse apprised as he read. "Church leaders, nobles, arms dealers, a couple of our other targets..." The page flipped and Teric kept reading. Numbers, inventories, accounts, and locations were all scrawled out in a finely detailed hand unique to Bale Kenrick. "It seems Kenrick and his associates have a certain interest in seeing the Church piss off the Throne. He's got at least a dozen men listed here, big time movers of Aleraran muskets, and all of them are associated with churches across Salvar."

"I think Bale was right." Teric said slowly. "I don't think we know what we're getting ourselves into here..."

[Rayse Valentino]

"That old scumbag was begging to die, if you ask me. I have a feeling he would've offed himself if we didn't get there first."

Rayse put his feet up on an unused side of the table, putting the beer bottle down and lighting up a smoke. He shook the lighter and found that it was nearly empty, but replacing it wasn't his concern right now. Judging by what Teric was talking about, he didn't seem to be aware just how deep these people were with either The Church or The Throne. It's not like all this started recently. The cogs have been in motion for a while now, but the matter of if became a when, hastening the process of war.

"It's something I suspected for a while... Kenrick was down on his luck, and even his dealers in The Church were squeezing him. According to these "terms of sale" contracts, he was going to give up his empire to save himself. At least, that was the plan. These are dated a few weeks ago."

Blowing light trails of smoke into the air, Rayse couldn't help that something was amiss. It wasn't anything in the papers, but more of a gut feeling again.

"All that is irrelevant, the important information is this: Bishop Draklira. Our lucky buyer."

Rayse pulled out various documents about this guy. It had a lot of personal information on him, and judging by their condition Kenrick has been keeping dirt on him for quite some time.

"Known above the ground as a strict follower of The Church of Ethereal Sway, he secretly leads a cult-like syndicate that is in a different league from Kenrick. Put simply, he's insane, and he's incognito... until now. Kenrick had quite a bit on this guy..."

Rayse looked at the paper intently, with a sort of concentration that even Teric had not seen before. This is too good to be true... does he really have an opening like this? The problem is, I don't think Teric's gonna like this. Oh well, I'm not paying him to complain. Trying not to seem too suspicious, Rayse got up, picked up the wooden box, and tried to play off his change of mood.

"I'm going to go get this cracked, and then check with some of my contacts. There's still quite a bit here, so give it all a good look while I'm gone, will ya?"

Rayse walked across the hallway to Neil's room, and once again knocked on the door.

"....Nngh... Who, who is it?!" Came a grumbled reply from deep inside.

Rayse forgot that it was still the morning, but he didn't particularly care for Neil's sleeping habits.

"How can you keep forgetting this knock? Only I do it."

"Oh!" Came a much more hurried reply, and after some shuffling and falling over, the door opened with a man in his pajamas standing before Rayse.

Rayse looked down, and then back up, somewhat disturbed, "You... What are you...? You know what, forget it. I need your lock-picking skills, among other things."

Neil was a handyman of sorts. He was fitted to the role of superintendent of this building, as he was a jack of all trades. Rayse relied on him for much of his menial tasks, and even took him on a few jobs before he realized that he couldn't really stand him anymore. In his youth, he seemed to have a lot more tolerance.

"This early in the morning? Come on, man."

"Too bad. This is urgent, and I can pay this time."

Rayse dropped 124 gold into Neil's ever-willing hands.

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say you had money?! Come in!"

"Please," Rayse begged, "At least change out of... that."

After a few minutes, Rayse found himself staring at Neil go to work on the box. It was a tough lock, and even he couldn't pick it, so he decided to break it. This was good enough for Rayse, although Neil looked entirely too proud of destroying it.

"So? What's in there?" Rayse asked.

"Well... there was a small vial of black ink, a piece of paper with some sort of design like an emblem or something, and some writing that says, 'Essence of Fire'. There is also some equipment here... looks like it's for tattooing."

"Tattooing?"

"Don't look at me! Although, it does remind me of all those tattoos I gave you." Neil was telling the truth. The various lines and curves on Rayse's body were Neil's handiwork. The young contractor felt like he just wasted his time, but there was something he could do.

Rayse laughed, "Sure, how about a new one for old time's sake? Right here on top of my right shoulder. I like the design, too."

It took a small amount of time for the job to be done, but in the end Neil felt a little odd.

"What's wrong?" Asked Rayse, "It looks great! Sort of like a little flame, but somewhat swirly with a hole in the side."

"It's just... well, forget it. If this is all you want, can you get outta here already? I got sleepin' to do, it's my day off!"

"Alright, alright, no need to get cranky, old man."

After some pleasantries were exchanged, Rayse found himself walking outside. The tattoo was hidden under the his t-shirt, and he figured the heat from the recent incident was died down a bit. If anything, he wanted to get to his contacts to see what they knew about this 'Bishop Draklira'.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Are you certain of what you just told me?" Came a voice from a large seat.

In it sat a young man no older than Rayse, with sparkling blond hair and clear, pale skin. He had deep blue eyes that were sharp and gave him a sly expression. He was talking to a knelt man with a bandage around one of his arms.

"Yes. That is where I was told to meet him," he replied.

The young man had already been briefed upon the situation by a forsenics expert. The autopsy reveals that if Kenrick didn't die from blunt trauma to the head, it was certainly from the knife wound in his back. He knew that the invaders had taken something from the safe, for when it was destroyed by demolition experts, the wooden box that was supposed to be inside was gone.

"That will not be necessary. I will personally meet this vagabond who murdered my father."

"As you wish, Master Legaias-"

"No! You will now address me as Kenrick, Mr. Kenrick!"

"Y,yes Mr. Kenrick, sir!"

[Bloodrose]

More waiting...

After Rayse had left, Teric spent his time reading over each piece of paper they had pilfered from Kenrick's office. The young contractor was right it seemed, in assuming that Bale was trying to cut loose his ties to anything related to his former enterprises. At least half the papers in the stack were littered with terms and conditions, monetary amounts, and dates. Teric's old employer had busy lately, if those dates were anything to go by, and it chilled the old warrior to the bone to think of what could drive a man like Bale Kenrick to essentially abandon everything he had built...

This is going to take forever. Teric decided after Rayse didn't return within the first ten minutes. At least he had something to read this time, to occupy himself, but waiting around was making the veteran nervous. Killing Kenrick was likely to have set into motion a whole host of dark maneuvers in the shadows, as Kenrick's associates, his competitors, his buyers, and his contacts all shuffled their holdings to fill the power vacuum. One never quite knew how these restructurings were going to play out, but Teric could only assume that anyone and everyone associated with Kenrick, and by extension the other men he and Rayse were supposed to kill, would at the very least tighten their security.

Rising from the table, Teric scoured the apartment for anything more potent than the beers Rayse had fished out. The old warrior's nerves could do with a good shot of liquor right now, and it didn't matter what kind. The cupboards were empty, and judging by the cobwebs, had been for some time. The icebox was also pretty barren, along with the counters, the shelves, and anywhere else a man might hide a bottle of spirits. Booze-less, but with a cigarette he had discovered in the sugar jar, Teric returned to the table and went back to reading...

"Bishop Draklira." The old warrior muttered under his breath. Putting the cigarette in his mouth, Teric stumbled upon the interesting conundrum of what to light it with. Rayse had taken his light with him, and there didn't seem to be any open flames in the apartment either. Off Teric went on another search of the apartment, this time into the bedroom where he discovered a couple candles and a box of matches in the nightstand. He relieved the nightstand of its matches and went on his merry way, arriving at the table this time with a warm puff of smoke in his lungs.

"Don't know him." He muttered, picking right up where he had left off. A single plume of smoke rushed out of the warrior's left nostril as he exhaled, an interesting sight for anyone not familiar with Teric. The old man was long used to breathing through one side of his nose by now, as he had been doing it for almost twenty-one years; ever since Darren Fletch, the Bastard of Beggar's Notch, had smashed his nose with an axe handle during a duel. "I probably should know him," Teric continued, without missing a beat, "but the name doesn't ring a bell..."

[Rayse Valentino]

A few hours later, Rayse walked back to his apartment with his head hung low, thinking of what to say. Not many of his contacts were around, but the ones that were didn't have much to say. Rayse had to hear them talk first, as he couldn't very well mention Kenrick's death, yet they did not seem to be aware of it. With an organization like this, news of its crumbling should have at least reached some ears. The idea that they killed some sort of doppleganger and the real Bale Kenrick still lived was a disturbing one. Nonetheless, he would finally know everything in about an hour. At least, that's what he thought, but concern overtook his face when a man ran up to him, exhausted. He was right at the front door of the apartment building, and he seemed to be in a panic.

"Mr. Valentino, sir! I have something to report!" Said the man between breaths.

"Dan, I paid you good money to go to that meeting spot. What are you doing back so early? Did you meet the man with brown hair and a knife wound on his right arm already?"

Dan replied, "No sir, someone else came there."

"9 o'clock, old business district, Emerald Street east side?"

"Yes!! It was a pale-looking blond-haired man with sharp, blue eyes. No brown hair and no knife wound. He actually told me he wanted to meet you in person."

Rayse became concerned. If it wasn't the contact he thought he made at Kenrick's Base, then just who was he?

"Do...do I still get paid?"

"Since you couldn't complete your previous job, I'll only pay you if you complete this new one. I want you to go back there, completely undetected if you can, and scout out the area. I want you to report all your findings. I will check myself later, and if it's not exact, I'll personally find you and cut off your scalp. Understand?"

"Y, yes sir! You can count on me!"

"I know I can, Dan. We go way back. Now get going, I don't know how much longer he's going to be there. You should still have your spare key to my place, just come inside when you're back."

With that, Dan ran off and Rayse found himself alone in front of Neil's building. He couldn't help but make a connection with the lack of rumors regarding Kenrick's death and this new stranger at the meeting place. Also, whoever was waiting for him there had most certainly prepared a trap. Grinning, Rayse found it amusing they would go through so much trouble over someone like him. He was going to march into this trap head on, he was not scared. Although, he was going to need Teric for this.

Stepping inside, Rayse confronted Teric, "I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that it looks like our little unconscious witness has blabbed, and I'll be heading into a trap soon. The good news is, I've found something for you to do."

Rayse closed the door behind him and sat down, content that he still had some time to explain the situation to Teric. He told him that before Teric left Kenrick's room, Rayse had made the guard into a contact, and was supposed to meet him to discuss payment over whatever information he had that could be of use to the job. Before he continued, he wanted to ask Teric some things about this Bishop Draklira character.

"Like I said, he's a real nutjob, but I don't know who he was before he had this position. I think you might know him, but he wasn't exactly a famous character for a long time. If you can remember anyone who may have been some sort of religious wacko that worked under the man who started the first mercenary empire, it might be him. He should be in his 70's by now, so back then he could've been old enough to be bitter about the end of that organization. Of course, the possibility of you seeing this man is well over fifteen years ago, so you might have never seen him, but anything would be good."

There were two things about taking down the next target that bothered Rayse: One, it would not be at his base or anywhere near it. Two, it would be in broad daylight. If Kenrick's intel proved inaccurate, Rayse and Teric would find themselves six feet under in very short order.

[Bloodrose]

"You're going to walk willing into a trap?" Teric asked, incredulous. For a brief second he had thought about asking Rayse why on Althanas he would try to turn one of Kenrick's guards into a personal contact, but then the young contractor had dropped that bombshell in his lap. Red flags went up in the old mercenary's head, and a half dozen questions started floating through his thoughts. "Who's trap? Why? What are you, stupid?" They all came tumbling out in quick succession, for now was not the time to keep holding things back and allow Rayse to run them willy-nilly into a pine box.

And that was assuming whoever lying the trap was nice enough to give them a proper burial...

Teric's fist banged off the table, making the empty beer bottles jump, and a couple to fall over. It was the first time in a long time that he had been frustrated enough to let it make him act out like that. Frustration was a fact of life in Teric's world, but usually he kept his composure. A couple of deep breaths allowed him to regain some of his cool, but breathing couldn't soften the dark lines that crinkled his brow, the area around his nose, and around his mouth. The scowl would be more than evident for a while, if his mood played any part in maintaining it.

He couldn't even think about Draklira right now, so preoccupied with the sudden hazard that cropped up so soon into the operation. Kill one guy and people start asking questions. Kill a couple of guys and people start getting on edgy. Maybe by the third or fourth guy, people will start catching on to what's up, and start making plans; but to have that happen after the first kill?

Thinking about the Bishop wouldn't have mattered much anyways. Draklira wasn't the sort of name that brought a dozen fond memories of the warrior's hey-day back to life. If you mentioned Kenrick, or Stefan Tyray, a veritable volume of history came down of the shelves of Teric's mind and revived a period of the warrior's life. The volume sitting on the shelf with Draklira's name of it was an empty one. The cover and the binding were there, but the pages were either blank or missing...

"Do have any idea what's waiting for you?" He added.

[Rayse Valentino]

"I will in a minute," Rayse replied to only the last query, content that his scout will come bursting in here at any moment.

It didn't appear that Teric was wholly concerned with Draklira's character right now. While as a business partner, Teric had every right to be concerned over his payer's welfare, his state of alarm seemed a bit excessive. Nonetheless, he didn't seem to know about Draklira. In a way, this was reassuring, as it re-affirmed Teric's history as a mercenary. Draklira wasn't one to hire out too many people, and thus Teric was never hired. Still, the lack of any sort of weakness or useful information made the next target all the more dangerous.

Rayse walked over and made himself a cup of coffee, assuring the apparently frustrated Teric, "You worry too much for a mercenary. He's giving me all this time to prepare, so the trap is not nearly as effective as it should be, correct? If anything, I'm already past the point of extreme danger, as I sent that scout instead of going there myself and really getting caught in the trap. If I were him, I'd cut my losses and get out of there."

He walked back to the table and drank the coffee down, staring at the door as he heard the faint sound of footsteps. The door opened, and Dan ran into the room, out of breath. He was about to say something but then he saw Teric, and he froze with fear.

Rayse shook his head, smelling the aroma of the coffee in the cup he was holding and motioning for Dan to come closer with his free hand, "It's alright Dan, whatever you can tell me you can tell him."

"Alright, sir, " Said Dan, coming closer and trying his hardest to ignore Teric, "It looks like there's a lot of other parties at the scene... they're all on rooftops and I think I saw the shape of bows. The guy I mentioned earlier was still there."

Dan described the man in more detail, including his expensive clothing and mentioning that he had a sheathed sword at his side. Rayse absorbed this information, trying to piece together the details of the trap and handing Dan a pen and paper.

"Draw all of their locations, don't leave a single one out."

A few minutes later, Dan handed back his masterpiece. It was a very detailed picture made by a man with a photographic memory. It was even a top-down view that was scaled perfectly. Rayse knew for many years of Dan's ability to draw what he sees, and this isn't the first time it has come in handy. They say a businessman is only as good as his connections, and Rayse believed every word.

Pointing out the various archer locations to Teric, Rayse commented, "Look at how they're laid out. There's about six of them, three on each side of the street. If that blond guy is standing in the middle here, that means two will have a somewhat frontal shot from each side, two will have a somewhat back shot from each side, and two will be shooting more or less in a straight line. If they're truly precise archers, there's almost no way to avoid getting hit, even if you're moving. It's a really odd trap, and naturally I would never recommend it. Whoever this guy is, he's obviously some sort of smartass that thinks he has everything figured out, despite the contrary."

Rayse allocated roughly 100 gold and deposited it into Dan's hands.

"Thanks a lot Dan, you've saved my life again."

"Anytime, buddy!" replied Dan, bowing and running out of the room hastily with his spoils, closing the door behind him.

"If you're so concerned with how this is going to turn out, why don't you get involved? In fact, I may need your help with this."

Rayse explained the plan to him in detail. He may not agree with it, but Rayse was sure that he would go along with it, just like usual.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rayse walked onto the abandoned street, appearing just as he always did but with a sheathed sword at his side to match the one of this mysterious man. It was an unusual thing for him to carry, but there was no way of him knowing that. He walked up to the man and stopped roughly fifteen feet away, stopping.

"Well?" He asked, as if he did not know why he was here, "What's all this about?"

[Bloodrose]

Legaias Kenrick was leaning up against the old tailor's shop on Emerald Street, dressed to the nines. He sported a fanciful red velvet doublet and finely stitched fencing breeches tucked into knee-high boots of the finest black leather. The boots were so new that they still squeaked a bit when he walked, and the clothing was new as well. Appearance was everything in the types of business his father had been involved in, and the younger Kenrick had thought it best to dress in a manner representative of his new importance...

Perhaps when his current business was concluded he would give the old tailor's shop to the man who had made such fine garments for him on such short notice. After all, it was important to reward one's associated when they did such fine work.

A man rounded a corner down the way and strode confidently up the deserted street. He was armed, and by the way the two of them locked eyes it was quickly obvious that this was the man he had been waiting for. It would have been nice to have had a description to compare the stranger to, but the man's question upon stopping several paces away erased all doubt.

This is the man who killed my father? Legaias thought, disappointed. He had imagined his father's killer to be a much more impressive figure than the dark haired trash standing before him now. It was a pity to think that his father, such a powerful man, had fallen to such a meek and uninteresting looking fellow as this...

"This is about my father." Legaias quipped, rising from his leaning position to stand upright. He straightened his doublet and ran his hands through his blonde hair meaningfully. "I believe the two of you met once, before you beat him and stabbed him in the back like a coward."

Reaching into his pocket, Legaias fished out a red scrap of cloth adorned with a black knight. "It's funny," he added, "you don't look like The Four Horsemen..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rayse is on the other side of this building. Teric mulled, hugging his coat around his body in the pre-dawn gloom. It was cold, and the crisp air hinted at a winter not far off. He's over there, standing right in the middle of a trap. He's counting on me to give him a way out...

The old warrior approached the back of the building slowly, scanning the piles of refuse and old boxes that had accumulated in the old business district alley. Somehow he needed to climb to the roof without being detected, and take out the archer stationed there.

Taking off his breastplate, Teric stashed the dinged and marked metal protection behind a box. His trusty sword cane he slid into his belt to free his hands for climbing. I can't believe I'm doing this. He thought, stepping up slowly onto a shorter box standing next to a larger one. Why do I keep enabling Rayse? If I didn't keep going along with his ridiculous plans, maybe we wouldn't be in a situation like this...

The veteran took a deep breath and mounted the larger box. The wood creaked beneath his weight, and the sound was much louder in Teric's ears than it should have been. To his ears the whole world might have heard that box creak, but after several seconds of waiting, there was no response from anyone on the roof.

I can't believe I'm doing this. Teric thought again, reaching up to grab the edge of the roof.

[Rayse Valentino]

If appearances were telling, Legaias' would be quite obvious. Rayse looked somewhat surprised, not at the accusation but rather the line before it. The obvious question in his mind was: Kenrick had a son?

He did not let his eyes wander. He knew that there were arrows primed at him, ready to fire at any time. What he was out to accomplish here was not just to buy time, but to establish credibility. Although, it was not for Legaias, but rather the other witnesses, namely: The mercenary archers around him. He wondered how far this game would take him, but he knew that he had nowhere to move except forward.

"I should hope not," Rayse answered coolly, "It would be quite damaging to my reputation if I was linked to such an organization."

Legaias had the bait, but now it was being used against him and not his proper target. The fact that the item was in his possession, and his general... demeanor... gave way to the idea that he really was who he said he was. Rayse had already intended to destroy the source of this information, but now he definitely had to silence this person. He had to play his cards carefully, because if he showed his hand too soon, he could lose the entire pot. Putting the matter of Kenrick's lineage aside, he had another concern to think about: How did he know that Dan wasn't the right person immediately?

Rayse couldn't even fathom how he could possibly draw the conclusion that Rayse Valentino was responsible for this. It's possible that the guard he knocked out could've still had an employer and thus relayed to him the appearance of the young contractor, but even then he was fairly disguised. He wondered if there was a way to draw this information out of the man before him, but for now he was going to reply to the man. He didn't particularly appreciate the man beating around the bush like this. If he was attempting to threaten Rayse, he obviously had no experience in it. His very appearance reflected his pompous attitude, but his lack of directness was advantageous to Rayse, as he needed to buy time anyway.

"As for the matter of your father... I can't say I have a clue as to what you're talking about, or who you're talking about. I was up all night arranging my clients' papers for transfers out of the city, and I don't like being woken up to someone trying to pin a murder on me."

He was playing upon what was normally expected of him. His eyes had signs of fatigue, and if the man knew who he was then his story would fall under something he would normally do. Also, it provided an alibi. He wasn't sure how it was about to all hold up, but this was his attempt.

He wanted to push. Just enough to rouse him, but not enough to see himself filled with arrows. In short, he had to act like his usual contractor self.

[Bloodrose]

Legaias chuckled softly, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling as they slanted with his devious grin. The scrap of cloth in his hand fell to the ground, forgotten. "Oh, come now." He chided, stepping to his right to begin a predatory circling around his prey. "The man who killed my father told my associate to meet him here, in the old business district, on Emerald Street's east side, at 9 o'clock." The younger Kenrick stopped long enough to square himself and rattle his sword sinisterly...

"I met the man who arrived here at 9." He continued. "That man was too timid and weak a fool to be my father's murderer, so I sent him to fetch back the real culprit. Your own agent wakes you, and you come to this spot, and you have the gall to tell me you were up filing papers?" Legaias' voice was laced with contempt now. The devious smile melted into a vicious grin, and his eyes deepened like sapphire daggers. "Don't treat me like an idiot, assassin."

Legaias snapped his fingers, and in the chill early morning air the snap ricocheted off the walls of the surrounding buildings like the sound of metal striking wood. Following that sharp noise came the jingling of the buckles and loops on the jerkins of a half-dozen archers as they materialized on the rooftops all around. They were a motley bunch, hired out at short notice from a mercenary house infamous for their snipers. Even if they couldn't all see each other, due to the varying sizes of the buildings or the light of the rising sun, each knew where the other was, and each was comfortable staring down the length of a fire-blackened shaft.

"I snap my fingers again, and you become a pincushion." Legaias chuckled again; the smug and arrogant chuckle of a man completely in control of the situation. "So are you ready to stop playing games?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teric lowered his iron-shod boots onto the flat tar roof gingerly. He was trying like mad not to make a single sound, but any sound was magnified by the quiet of the morning. It's so eerie. The old warrior thought, inching his way over to the roof hut that likely contained a flight of stairs down into the building below his feet. No city should ever be this quiet...

Has it ever been this quiet?

In the back of his mind, Teric reminded himself that he had come to Knife's Edge to look for the mercenary work that the rumors of civil unrest were sure to provide. This was a chance to make some serious money, and to get himself back into the swing of the blade-for-hire lifestyle after his short lived retirement. In the old warrior's heart, however, there was a tinge of sentiment lending itself to his reasons for being here. There were entire chapters of his history here, buried deep beneath twenty years of staying away from the place of his sister's death.

Twenty years of staying away from her disastrous progeny and his prick of a father...

Staying away from Rayse.

The though pierced Teric's thoughts like a crossbow bolt, causing the old man to pause before glancing around the corner of the roof-shack. Across the roof, about twenty paces away, a dark cloaked archer with a composite bow was standing near the half-wall that marked the perimeter of the building. You don't know that. Came his mind's rebuttal. It's just a necklace after all...

"Yes, but why did it have to be that necklace!" He hissed under his breath. There was a slight movement from the archer, and Teric pulled his head back around the corner to safety, suddenly very afraid that he had broken his cover on a simple outburst. Long seconds ticked past, each a minute in of itself, and Teric waited for the alarm to go up. Nothing happened, however, and finally the old warrior allowed himself a breath...

Control yourself. The reprimand was much needed. Worry about things like that later, and help Rayse now...

[Rayse Valentino]

While part of him wanted to blame his story's lack of credibility on Dan, it re-affirmed his previous suspicions that Legaias did not know exactly who he was. Rayse didn't even bother looking up at the archers scrambling to their positions around him, but at least it meant that Dan had caught them setting up the trap. Now that Legaias has shown Rayse his cards, he was stuck with his hand... but it wasn't enough to beat the cards of this arrogant brat just yet.

Rayse lifted a finger and wagged it in the air, with his other hand on his forehead, "I really want to get my hands on the throat of the idiot who dragged me here. I was under the impression that you were a potential client, but it seems that you just let your man get away and now you're left with me. Weak, timid, a fool? It looks like we were both fooled by that act."

Rayse knew this wouldn't fly, as Legaias seemed to suddenly have no patience anymore. Although, why Rayse wasn't dead yet was odd. If he truly thought that Rayse was responsible, he would already be dead, or to be more accurate: Dan would already be dead. Rather than get revenge for his father, he seems to want something else but did not want to mention it... Unless he was absolutely sure he had the right man. But, what does it mean? Did I take something from that safe that is more important than his father?

It mattered not. Rayse had to continue talking, because he was running out of time.

"How about a compromise?" Rayse asked, putting his left hand on the hilt of his blade and slightly pushing it out of its sheath, "We both seem to be armed. If you really think I killed your father, then I don't think I'm getting out of here without a scratch. I offer a duel. Should you win, I'll tell you everything I know and you can decide my fate afterwards, but should I win, you let me go and I'll forget this little misunderstanding ever happened."

There was a feigned sense of desperation in his voice. His eyes blinked far too much, and he swallowed his spit intentionally. He tried to make it look like the offer didn't come with the confidence assured by skill. Rayse wasn't sure how far this offer would fly. It had been his plan from the start, and there was a reasonable amount of evidence from their encounter thus far to suggest this plan's success. The offer hinged on whether or not Legaias' sword was just there for show or not. If it was, Rayse was out of luck.

[Bloodrose]

So he still wants to play his games then, hmm? Legaias' hand wrapped around the hilt of his saber expectantly. In the back of the young Kenrick's mind were the years and years of lessons Father had purchased from the greatest teachers in Knife's Edge. Even if he hadn't paid the most apt attention to his diligent tutors, Legaias was more than confident in his swordplay. Confident enough to take on this street rat.

"If it's a duel you want, then it's a duel you'll get." Legaias proclaimed loudly. His excellent Prevalida saber rang from its sheath as he pulled free the blade in one fluid motion. The blue of metal complimented the young Kenrick's eyes, and the weapon was weighed perfectly for his grasp. "I'll take the box off your dead body."

With that Legaias lunged forward, hoping to skewer the man standing before him with a sloppy thrust to the midsection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...off your dead body." From the rooftop Teric could just barely hear the faint voices of those speaking down in the street below. His back was pressed firmly against the roof-shack, his feet planted on the rubber and tar amalgamation that made up the roof's surface. Twenty paces he had to cross through open air in order to subdue the archer standing on the edge, and he had to do it without alerting the man or his comrades. A single shout, or even a loud exclamation, and the whole plan was blown...

Rayse would die...

Alright you bastard... Teric thought. The old mercenary unlaced his boots and pulled out his stocking feet. The boots would be too loud on the rooftop, and there was just no way to sneak in them. His socks would make for a much better stealth...

Let's do this...

[Rayse Valentino]

The box? thought Rayse as he continued to slightly push the blade out by an inch, standing with his knees slightly bent and his back arched forward. His body was in preparation to dodge this next attack.

He figured the blade would be a saber, judging by the hand guard that type of sword usually possesses, and it was indeed a fitting weapon for someone like Legaias. Rayse had no doubt that this sheer overconfidence displayed by his opponent was the result of fencing. He tried very hard to contain his malicious grin, his victory was already assured.

When Legaias thrust his saber, the archers were a bit worried. They questioned why they had been called out here if this arrogant employer was just going to do this.

Lowering his body, Rayse side-stepped out of the way of the thrust to his right, his own sword still sheathed. Legaias looked surprised, as his target had vanished from his sight so quickly. He gathered himself and quickly swung his blade from its thrusted position over to Rayse's new location. The young contractor leaned far back, watching the blade pass over his eyes, and after it passed he stood straight up. He was suddenly very close to Legaias, who was not done swinging his wide arc, and brought both his hands up to his chest and pushed out fiercely, driving the palms of his hands into Legaias' chest. The young Kenrick nearly lost his balance as he was pushed backwards, but he kept his grip on his sword and held it in front of his face, ashamed and outraged.

Rayse cursed himself, for this was just too easy. Yet, he still needed more time, and with his right hand decided to draw his blade anyway. It was a worn iron cutlass that was slightly chipped at the sides. It had a dull, gray look that suggested its age. He hoped that the the chipped edge of his blade would imply that he parries incorrectly; using the sharp edge of the blade rather than dull one. He wasn't much of a sword fighter aside from his training in the army, but he had the instincts of one. He had been through countless life-or-death experiences which involved swords, and knew how to avoid them. He knew that he couldn't simply kill Legaias, for then the archers would make swiss cheese out of him.

Legaias Kenrick, on the other hand, understood that he had to get serious with this man, although he was still fixed on the idea that he was the superior fighter. That thrust was merely practice and to test Rayse's abilities, and thus now he could begin his attack in earnest. Not to mention the thug's sword was horrendous to look at. It looked like it was about to fall apart at any moment. Before he could consider his next attack, Rayse had charged at him with his drawn blade, swinging it downwards upon Legaias' head. He delighted at this inferior attack and parried the blow, his sword held up high to meet the blade coming down at him. He immediately felt the pressure from the parry, rooting his feet in the ground and bending his knees further. The pressure faded and he found his opponent crouching on the ground and swinging his blade in an arc to his right, the edge of his blade almost meeting Legaias' shins. He jumped backwards to avoid the gruesome loss of his feet, and then immediately retaliated with another textbook thrust. Rayse once again dodged it, and countered with his own slash at Legaias' mid-section, which was once again parried.

Rayse hoped that Legaias didn't realize he was toying with him, as he could dodge those silly thrusts forever. His own attacks were held back, slow, and wide, allowing the young Kenrick plenty of time to parry them or counter.

After his last attack was parried, he backed up and asked, "What box?"

Legaias was definitely not in the mood for this game now, "You know what box! The one worth a fortune!"

Rayse, surprised, was unprepared for Legaias' next thrust, which grazed his left cheek as he barely dodged it. A small trickle of blood ran out of the fresh cut. Legaias thought he was making some headway in this fight now that he was supposedly learning Rayse's movements. Rayse decided not to press the subject any further, as it was far too distracting.

[Bloodrose]

In and out, in and out... The old warrior glanced around the corner of the roof-shack again and almost heaved a sigh of frustration. There was just far too much open space for him to cross unnoticed by the assassin watching Rayse and his mystery host intently. He'll see me long before I have a chance to kill him... The thought was not a pleasant one, and brought to mind awful images of dying with an arrow lodged in his ribs...

Back behind the roof-shack Teric went, his frustration mounting and the tension in the air covering his nose and mouth like a suffocating fog. Memories and past experiences, one of the old warrior's greatest assets these days, flooded through his head to no avail. Duels, battles, and raids were nothing like trying to be stealthy, and none of the scenarios Teric could remember lent him any ideas as to what to do.

Maybe if I got his attention? Teric suddenly dawned upon an idea that might change his situation. Perhaps he wouldn't have to cross the roof unnoticed, so long as he could attract the archer's attention without giving him cause to raise the alarm. Jumping out and giving away his position wasn't going to do anything but get himself and Rayse killed, so he would have to be more subtle...

Grabbing up one of his boots, Teric made a half-assed calculation, and chucked the footwear into the air. All that mattered was that the boot cleared the building, meaning his aim didn't have to be perfect. Over the low half-wall the iron-shod boot went, clunking off one of the boxes below - and by the sounds of it - crashing into a trash can as well...

Time seemed to slow down, and each second drew itself out into an hour and Teric waited for the alarm to sound. "Hey! Over here!" He could hear the archer yelling already. He imagined Rayse lying prone in the street with half a dozen arrows sticking out of him at all the wrong angles, and imagined trying to flee from the trappers as they gave chase...

The dark clothed archer passed the corner of the small stairwell building Teric stood behind without so much as a glance. He was close enough that Teric could make out the stubble on his chin below his low-drawn hood. His bow was slung lazily over his shoulder, and the man had a hand on a dagger at his belt. The would-be assassin's attention was quite obviously focused on the edge of the building ahead of him and what might be in the street down below.

The would-be assassin was so focused, in fact, that he didn't even see his own assassin make his move...

Teric's stocking feet were silent on the rooftop as he drew his thin steel blade and shot forward like a dart. His free left hand shot around the side of the man's head and closed itself over his mouth as the blade in his right hand came up. Teric jerked back the man's head, stuffing the muffled scream of surprise back down the archer's throat as he slid the rapier-like blade from ear to ear. The archer went limp and silent in his grasp as Teric lowered the man to the rooftop.

For the love of all that's holy... Teric's sigh of relief was a silent one, and the old warrior immediately went to work. He tried to ignore the terrible, dripping red smile that occupied the archer's neck as he relieved the body of its cloak and bow. Resigning himself to retrieve his boots later, Teric donned the cloak and pulled the hood low and he walked as casually as possible back to the edge overlooking the street...

I’m here Rayse. He wanted to shout.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse's moves flowed naturally from his body. The fluidity of his attacks and dodges made him seem more like a specter than a fighter. No sound could be heard from his feet as he moved, only the sound of the wind as he swung his blade widely. Although, he couldn't keep this up forever, or else Legaias would catch on. Their principal difference was that Rayse allowed Legaias to get very close to cutting him, while Legaias would make sure Rayse's cutlass didn't get anywhere near him. Rayse played dangerously, he put his life on the line in this fight, but he consistently managed to deflect Legaias' strikes with relative ease.

Legaias swung desperately, furiously trying to have his thrusts and swings connect. No matter what he did, he simply couldn't hit the damn rat! Rayse was dancing around him, taunting him. He wondered how a lowlife like him could possibly be this good, his eyes now turning red and his hair becoming ruffled. He was unraveling, and it was showing. He lunged forward, and found his blade pushed down by Rayse's before making contact. He then felt as if his sword was moving of its own free will, but it was Rayse guiding it around in a clockwise rotation and finally deflecting it, leaving Legaias to regain his composure in a new stance. This... this can't be! Does this cretin actually claim to be better than me?! We'll see about that, there is one attack I know he can't dodge! Wait... Legaias thought about Rayse and his dodging. He never used any of his dodges to advance. He has always remained at a distance and attacked from there. Also, the way Rayse used his cutlass was very light. He could almost remember the words of his instructors that taught him about quick, successive attacks and the importance of the offensive. He wondered about his first hit, which came after Rayse inquired about the box. He definitely knew about it. If that was the only time Legaias hit him... Does that mean he's not really trying?

Rayse put his left arm behind his back, so he wouldn't be tempted to use it. Using his entire body was important to him in a fight, and he has been resisting his instincts this entire time. It wasn't like in Tradepost, where both him and his partner knew that it was fake. He was fighting a real, albeit inferior, opponent. He found it very hard to resist his urge to tear Legaias into pieces. Suddenly, Legaias advanced and used a rather quick thrust, not enough to skewer Rayse or hurt him, but it forced Rayse to parry. The attack didn't stop there, as Legaias retracted his arm just a small amount and swung once more, this time a diagonal strike from above. Rayse backed up and parried it again, becoming very uneasy at the opportunities for attack this left him. It was as if Legaias was begging to be hit with this careless sequence of attacks. Another strike came from a different angle from Legaias, and Rayse parried once more. This went on for three more attacks, and then Rayse found he couldn't take it anymore. He knocked Legaias' saber away to his right and stepped in, pulling out his left hand and grabbing the sword arm of his opponent. Rooting his feet in the ground, he dropped his cutlass and grabbed Legaias' torso with his other arm. Bending his knees, he spun Legaias around and tossed him back across the street. Rayse's breath was heavy as he kicked his sword back up into his arms and swung it in a figure eight motion, finally pointing its blade back at Legaias. Damn it Rayse, you fucked up! Legaias slowly got up and began chuckling lightly to himself at first, but then broke out into a maniacal cackle. His sword lay at his feet.

"What do you take me for, you dog?!" Legaias yelled, his appearance more like a beast than the refined young man he supposed himself to be, "I tire of this! Consider yourself dead, you sack of shit!"

As Legaias raised his right hand up, Rayse knew what was coming. He was out of time. Damn it Teric, I hope you're done by now! Rayse lunged at Legaias with all his might as Legaias snapped his fingers once more. In that moment, the sound of arrows whizzing through the air was heard.

Silence filled the abandoned street for a few moments after the bows were loosed. Rayse nearly hugged Legaias in their proximity, his cutlass stuck deep inside the young Kenrick's heart. His own body was slightly to the right, his head to the right of Legaias'. Two arrows stuck out of the man's back, one in his right side, one in his left side, and one in his right lung. Rayse narrowly avoided that one by side-stepping to the right while grabbing Legaias. The young Kenrick stood in awe, blood pouring out of his mouth as he remained perfectly still.

In a low voice, Rayse quickly said, "There's only one reason why you lost: I put my life on the line, like in every job I do. You thought you were walking on thin ice today, you thought you were being humiliated, but you really have no idea. My entire life I have walked on thin ice, my entire life I have been humiliated. You're worse trash than your father."

Jumping away from Legaias, his feet skid across the ground from the intensity of the movement. He only had a moment to flee before the next volley of arrows came, and ran toward the nearby alley, barely missing four of the arrows hitting both sides of the alley, and one whizzing right by his head. He continued running, not stopping until he was well out of the area. On another empty street, he dropped down to his knees and then fell flat on his ass, exhausted. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out his lighter/pack combo, sticking a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it.

The flame on the lighter was supposed to be out now, but he still saw the glow of the fire. He looked down, and saw that the lighter wasn't causing the light, his right thumb was. His eyes widened, taking in the sight as the flame burned but did not harm him. He remembered: The lighter was out of fluid. He just somehow lit this cigarette himself. Suddenly, it all came together for him. The box, Legaias' interest in it, and the Essence of Fire. He pulled up the part of his shirt covering up the tattoo and saw that the black tattoo was glowing red.

[Bloodrose]

Rayse made a run for it, bee-lining for a dark alley as the man he had been fighting died in the street; a victim of his own trap. Five archers notched their bows for a second shot as Teric grabbed an arrow to notch his first. You haven't fired one of these things in over thirty years... The old warrior's mind was commenting as he drew back the string to his cheek. The odds of hitting anything smaller than a barn side were not even slim at best, but Teric was aiming keenly at the one archer standing directly above the alley to which Rayse was running.

We've been lucky as all get out thus far, why not get lucky now? Teric thought. With his right hand by his ear, he closed one eye and strained the other to focus the tip of the arrow on his target. His finger released the missile, but it went rogue almost instantly. The waxy string held taunt next to his face whipped him in the cheek as it powered the arrow forward, and the arrow streaked through the air to miss by several feet. The arrow shattering off the building below where the archer stood was enough to startle the man, however, causing his own shot to strike a wall harmlessly above Rayse's head.

Time to go...

Teric dropped the bow and ran, stopping only long enough to grab his boot from behind the roof-shack. Over the wall he went, back down onto the boxes he had climbed up earlier. Stealth was no longer an issue, so the horrible racket he made jumping down the boxes and half-climbing, half-falling to the ground below in his stocking feet didn't matter. In a pile next to an overturned trashcan he spotted his second boot, and grabbed it up along with his breastplate as he ran. The dead archer's cloak billowed and whipped around him as he pumped his old legs down the street and around the corner.

Several blocks away, heavily winded and with wet socks from running in the streets, Teric stopped and huddled into a sheltered doorway to catch his breath.

"Hope Rayse got away." He breathed under his breath, pulling on each boot with labored effort. Running was not something Teric was accustomed to, and he did it only rarely. "He's probably already run back to his apartment by now..."

As the heaving in his lungs subsided, and the deafening drum of his heart beating in his temples eased, the veteran mercenary stuck his head out the door to try and get his bearings. A couple of decades ago he couldn't have navigated the city with his eyes closed, but cities - like people - change. A couple of decades ago he wouldn't have stuck around to see if Rayse had ended up dead either...

You're not acting like yourself. Teric reprimanded himself, settling back into the doorway for several more minutes. Work will start to come thick and fast once the Church and the Throne make their moves...

He could cut loose from Rayse just yet, however. For one, the young contractor had yet to be forthcoming with any monetary compensation as of yet. No matter his other reasons for staying, of which he was still not sure, Teric was not the sort of mercenary to leave a job unpaid. Ten thousand gold, the young contractor had promised him, can buy me a lot of things...

Stepping out from the doorway, Teric checked his bearing one more time before setting off in the general direction of Rayse's safe house. As he got closer the local landmarks would start to refine his path, and Teric would find his way back just fine. All the way there he contemplated once more his other reason for staying with Rayse; the familiar necklace he had discovered on the table outside Rayse's bathroom...

The necklace the young contractor wore with such reverence...

The necklace Teric's sister, Victoria, had worn each and every day...

The necklace their mother wore before her...

How improbable is that? Teric pondered. By what stroke of fate is it that I come back to Knife's Edge to end up with the likely child of the reason I left in the first place?

[Rayse Valentino]

The rest of the day in Knife's Edge passed with murmurs and whispers. The archers had found their fallen brother, but knowing the lack of pay, the shame they suffered at actually killing their incompetent employer instead of their target, and the news of their precision being unreliable, they kept their activities that day quiet. They looted the body of Legaias Kenrick and swiped the entire affair under the rug. Throughout the city, news of both Kenrick's and Kenrick Jr's deaths spread. Who was responsible? An unknown assailant. People knew of the crumbling empire of Kenrick, and of the enemies Bale Kenrick has made throughout the years. Much to Bishop Draklira's dismay, the government seized Kenrick's fortress, uncovering his treacherous business. The secret safe in his office, however, was empty.

* * * *

As Stefan Tyray adjusted his mask in the mirror, a knock came on his door.

"I've been expecting you," he said, his voice sinister and calm.

The door opened and a man came in, dropping to one knee as Tyray faced him.

"Sir, Bale Kenrick and his son have been assassinated."

"Anything else?"

"N-no, sir."

"Then you may leave."

The informant, surprised by Tyray's lack of enthusiasm, immediately left and closed the door behind him.

"Hmm," Tyray chortled in amusement, "And I thought you were so protective of that brat."

* * * *

A shifty-eyed, hooded assassin stood in the office of Lord Bartholomew. It was the one from The Knife Den, the one who saw Teric and Rayse meet.

"I believe... it may have been that man," he announced in a low, raspy voice.

"I never thought he would actually succeed!" Fatman yelled, taking out his aggression on the hooded man, "But... it was Kenrick, after all. There's simply no way he can get any of the others. He is still as good as dead."

Fatman twiddled his mustache between two fingers, wondering, "Still, it wouldn't hurt to be careful."

* * * *

Unknown to the great crime lords, a greater power was guiding the forces in this world. The coming conflict would consume them all, no matter how much power they had. The rest of the day was spent in relative peace, but the winds of change were already sweeping the frozen nation. Starting tomorrow, Salvar would never be the same again.

End of Part 1.

[Call me J]

Guys, this was a really good job. I really loved a lot of things about this quest. I was a bit disappointed when I crunched the numbers and saw it only at 79 seeing as 80 is the “leet” number, but my own scoring aside, I believe this thread was as leet as leet can get. Though I will talk about this issue more, I really like what you did in terms of building up your story in the FQ. Many of the FQ threads either seem like “Character’s story that relates to the FQ” or “the FQ story featuring Character.” This thread really felt like Rayse and Teric’s story in the FQ. Well done guys.

Total Score- 79

• STORY ~ 23/30

Continuity (10) ~ I really liked the way that you used the FQ in this thread. A while ago, Madison and I were talking about how it was unfortunate that people will only use the FQ as “writing prompts,” but you really did a great job using the FQ to make a story that came out of your head that much better. This is exactly the kind of thread that justifies having an FQ in the first place.

Setting (6) ~ My only problem here was that the setting seemed to be a bit all over the place in terms of what kind of a universe it was that we were talking about here. Personally, I’m not a stickler for everything being 100% authentic Salvarian, but a story cannot function without a setting that is inherently consistent within itself. This was the biggest weakness of this thread.

Pacing (7) ~ There were a few low points in here, for most of this quest past the introduction it seems that you were relying on intrigue to suck the reader in, and for the most part, you had me. There were a few lulls in there here and there,

• CHARACTER ~ 25/30

Dialogue (9) ~ The dialogue in here was very strong and character consistent, the only reason I didn’t score it any higher, is because I like to see dialogue that is more memorable.

Action (6) ~ The only reason this is low was because I had a lot of trouble understanding why Rayse took the job in the first place. Normally, I wouldn’t knock off this many points for a single issue, but this was a whopping big issue that kept coming up again and again in the thread.

Persona (10) ~ I really liked the interactions between Teric and Rayse. The initial scene of the negotiation really gave me a good idea of who the two of the characters were. I also really liked the way that NPCs in this thread were given character, but were used to help flesh out the characters of the protagonists even more.

• WRITING STYLE ~ 23/30

Mechanics (9) ~ I noticed a mistake here and there, which means you don’t get a 10, but because none of them were big deals, you get a 9.

Technique (7) ~ I don’t know if this has suddenly become a popular device, but this is the second time I’ve seen someone break the fourth wall in the past week, though I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen it before. In this case, it was used to inject humor, in a way that was a bit cute, but grossly perfunctory. The fourth wall is a very powerful device, and when used unnecessarily, it really changes the color of the whole thread. Rayse, I understand you wanted to inject some humor into this, but it didn’t really come off.

Clarity (7) ~ I found the jumps in POV to be a bit confusing at times.

• Wild Card (8) ~ Though I put most of my gushing in continuity on this issue already, I want to say that I really loved what you guys did here.

Spoils
Rayse Valentino receives 6315 EXP and 995 GP
Bloodrose receives 4893 EXP and 950 GP

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!

Rayse hits level 3! Bloodrose makes level 2