Post by TheBaffMan on Jun 1, 2015 15:08:14 GMT
"Oi, Miss, you forgot your change."
"Hm? Oh. Thank you."
A smattering of small copper coins clinked into her open palm, the other holding a fresh basket of strawberries that brought vibrant colour to her otherwise bland appearance. She brought the coins beneath the dark linen cloak, placing them into a leather purse barely visible to the eyes of the fruit merchant. This one was certainly no Clement but at least he asked fewer questions, her attention needed to be ahead at all times. Further down the street, a gangly mage with a dour expression checked behind him, eyes flitting between stands as though looking for something. His gaze rested on a woman of light complexion, her stark white hair a strange sight in a village like this, but aside from her physical appearance she seemed to hold no interest to him. Another woman buying fruit for her husband, most likely.
Unknown to him, however, was that the strawberries she held were akin to her cloak, an item that withheld her true nature. Delicious though they might be, they had already proved to be worth more than she paid for. Now she was merely an afterthought in this man's mind, right where she wanted to be.
Moving away from the stall, it was time to proceed further down the market. The thin gentleman adorned with robes had turned to enter a small house, followed by two of a thicker disposition in both body and presumably mind. Two more then moved out to the front of the house, clad in crossing belts adorning the symbol of a flame, exposing their nipples and navel as though they had no shame to bear. Such were men and women of the faith, especially in the roles they seemed to have been given.
Cries and whimpers began to exude from the house. Merchants manning stalls grimaced, their teeth gritting together almost as tightly as their fists, yet none moved. A few trembled in place, wishing and hoping they could will themselves to act, yet ever-knowing that doing so would have lasting repercussions. One alone moved through the street without batting an eye, stepping gently so as not to spill the precious red fruit she had obtained. Reaching the corner of the building, eye contact was made between her and one of the Pillars, the guardsmen of the Holy Flame. She curtsied with her cloak, bowing her head in respect. They nodded in turn, and she went on her way, down the path that would lead her home. These events meant little to her, she just wanted to complete the task she had been given that day.
Those in the street continued to make their sales and purchases, passing the time whilst attempting to ignore the obvious cries for help. Five minutes, then ten. Whimpers in the house had turned to screaming, begging, pleading forgiveness for sins they had only committed in the eyes of those convicting them. Then a clear gasp, a scream, and the sounds of crashing plates and pots, a shattered piece of furniture, before silence. The Pillars turned to each other, each with a raised brow of curiosity, before nodding to one another in their own silent thoughts. One turned and opened the door, stepping inside. Even still, only silence could be heard.
Many dropped their selling and buying in the market to look across at what was both a spectacle and yet not at the same time. Silence had simply fallen on a house, yet it was so abnormal that merely the act of 'nothing' had become interesting in itself, as though it were a precursor to something yet to come. The second pillar, this one taller than the first and bearing a large weapon, turned towards the door, brandishing the blade. Yet the curiosity of everyone in the street would be answered with a single motion.
A chain shot out of the doorway, adorned with a hooked blade, wrapping around his neck and sinking into his collar. It was clear that the man was attempting to scream, but whether it was surprise or pain that caused it, no sound could leave his throat. Tighter and tighter the grip became, until the blade finally tore up through his throat and around his neck, leaving the head but a bobble attached by a spine. The bloody blade flew back inside, the standing corpse falling face-first onto the porch, shattering whatever was left of his identity as his life spilled into the mud.
How long had it been? Seven, Eight years? She had been but a girl at the time, naive and yet far too versed in the ways of the world for someone her age. Perhaps that was why The Reverend Galdrik Burdon and his entourage spilled their blood so easily, why it was not the screams or the begs that had driven her to action but the money, a simple piece of paper with a request and reward. Was there any satisfaction to be had in that he was both a thug and a rapist? Even a thought to those she had saved in her act of bringing a swift death to those that would do them harm?
In the end, they would likely suffer more. Word would reach the church of the sins of this town, a holy retribution would be held and every 5th child hanged for such treason, at worst. Yet, that wasn't her problem. Someone from this town had mustered up the funds to pay her for this particular service, and it had been done. Whatever happened next was on the head of the man who asked, not her who had done as bidden. The only thing Debenhelm owed her was 350 Certani, a percentage of which would go to the guild and food, and the rest to her savings. Easy money, all things considered, especially when very few from the Wolves would take such a contract, and of them only she and another were S-Class.
Donning the still-fresh oaken-coloured cloak, Saber pulled the hood over her head, hiding her entire visage from view. Not even the blood-soaked weaponry could be seen as she stepped out of the doorway, being careful to yet gracefully avoiding the dead Pillar at the doorstep. Shocked and awed peasants and merchants stared at the figure who some vaguely recognised and others didn't, moving at a brisk pace through the street before turning down an alley. None followed, none called after her - who would, after that kind of display and the smell of blood now floating in the air?
The man, woman and their two daughters still hid in the corner, the father observing a broken window on the back wall. His gaze turned once more to the dead bodies of those who had tried to extort him of coin, threatened him with the soiling of his wife and children. It was a strange feeling, to be both horrified and yet relieved all at the same time, in awe of the one who had saved them yet terrified of the event itself. The stench of death now flooded his house, consuming all thoughts of the family. Where did they move on from here? What path were they to pursue now?
Like a sign amidst a dark sky, a breeze swept gently through the house. For a brief moment, the smell of blood subsided and a strange sweetness filled his senses. In confusion, he looked about himself, shaking his head as though to deny the thoughts that he might be going mad, and yet in his moment of doubt he saw it. A small, carefully woven basket, untouched by the battle and bloodshed. Filling the package was a deep red, almost as deep as the rug on the floor was turning.
Three dozen strawberries. He knew not what it meant, if anything at all, yet for some reason that sweet smell made him smile. Be it madness or a sudden bout of realisation, he felt blessed, even if for a moment. His family had been saved.Yet, when he once more looked upon the room, memories returned of each motion, each strike, and he had to wonder...
Who had they been saved by? An angel, or a demon?