A question of honor
The job was done quick, precisely, and professional. Nobody asked why he bought the potion. Nobody found the composite bow parts and the long dagger he was carrying. Noone quite recognized that his noble clothes were not in the perfect shape they should have been, and not exactly suiting like they should. Well, that's what a winning smile can be useful for.
The guards were coming in just a moment after he left.
The used noble clothes he had worn in the evening, were found in a dirty street the next morning. When the guards asked the people for a young, unknown noble who was seen in the evening, he was already looking like someone different. like a lower class person he was, who never would have been invited to a feast like that. But the mages would know.
Noone was willing to do the job. Noone, except for him. But he was given no choice.
After finishing, his master sadly gave him the money, and the advice to leave the city immediately. Not an advice. It was a plea. But he had already chosen.
The victim was a known rich one. A rich one with many enemies - but no assassin would have taken the risk. Everyone who would kill such a person, a person with that much influence, would be on the big run for the rest of his life.
Some old ones, doing their last job, or feeling that every other job could be the last, sometimes take such a risky job. He liked to call it a job. Others called it murder, but he always made it quick and clean, without much pain, even this time.
These ones are on the big run. They move from city from city, always fleeing from the guards and the mages, from the letters with their face and the bounty on it. Some manage to survive two or three other years. Few others must have been hidden by Ronagan himself - they were never heard of, or seen, again. The most flee for months, never finding a quiet place for the short rest of their live. Nothing for him.
He never cared much for the money. It was a necessary thing to survive - and the pass for the rich ones to own the poor ones. And he earned money this time. Much money. blood money as a pass to freedom, when he gave it to his sister. A cure for her husband, who will be able to work again afterwards, as skilled as he was before. A good living for years for a family.
Of course he promised he would meet them later, when things have calmed. Perhaps all three knew he lied. But leave them their hope.
It was getting light outside. He took another piece of bread, and looked out of the window. it would be a sunny day. Many people would be outside.
The wine was not bad at all. Best from his father's own cellar. Someone had a sense for humor here.
The man he killed, had much influence. And this influence would be his doom soon.
But who else, in this situation, would have rejected ?
He had stolen, and killed. He lived in the city streets for years. He came a long way from the country side to live here, to follow the way he had choosen. And he had to care for his sister back then.
They may soon take my life, but they can't take my honor.
His stepfather, he could remember him, never liked nobles. But he cared for him as if he were his own son, and never treated him like the bastard he was.
His mother liked his sister the most, but she never really made him rcognize. And she had protected him when his real father kicked down the door and wanted his head.
That was the problem in society. The firstborn may be a threat to the wanted heir. And the first night can result in unwanted people.
When he and his sister fled, his parents were simply killed for resisting a noble. They were poor people and had no influence, and nothing would threaten the privileged murderer.
Too bad Ronagan had not protected his parents back then, only the children were led down the streets. Far, far to the city.
He had sworn revenge back then. He had sworn to kill his own father, who wanted him dead when he was a boy. But he had totally lost his trace.
He lived in the streets, caring for his sister, always stealing enough to ensure a poor living. He never begged for anything.
One day he tried at the full purse of a neat looking man. No noble, but a merchant perhaps.
As always, he quickly cut the leather, and was pretty puzzled when stones fell out, stones made in the shape of coins - and green dust. And he was even more puzzled when suddenly he could not move anymore...
The kind man took him into a bar. The type of bar rich mothers scare their children with. he was brought into a back room, and down into a cellar, where he had to show the men how he "organized" money. He did not tell about his sister.
An hour later, he was a proud young apprentice of the thieve's guild.
His career was like many others on the streets. He found out, that stealing was quite easy. And when he found out his real destination, it was a small step.
He became an assassin. One of the best in town. But he never took such a stupid kind of job...
until he recognized the face.
He packed his things, and sold away what he would not need anymore. He bought worn, but still good looking noble clothes. He bought a potion and poured it over some arrows.
The best opportunity was the feast. A merchant was giving it, inviting all nobles in town. And the major was there. Since many unknown young nobles, cousins and friends of those in town, were coming too, it was easy to get in.
The target person sat next to the major. Quite a honorable place, bought with much money and influence. The young man next to him seemed to be his other son.
When he hid in the shadows and prayed that noone would recognize the movement, he saw he was covered in darkness. I owe you another one, Ronagan. The arrow directly hit his father's heart. He just lived long enough to hear the words, shouted through the room, and saw him when he left the shadows for a moment. Greetings from your bastard, that one's for your victims. Then he jumped out of the window.
As he returned to his master, he asked him why in all world he took such a stupid job. He quietly smiled, and whispered, a question of honor. He ran off and gave the money to his sister.
The early sun outside is shining.
Footsteps outside. The key turns in the heavy lock, the door opens, and the people are waiting. Showtime.
The young man pours the last bit of whine, and whistling, follows the guards towards the executioner. The crowd will see a smiling face.
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(Edited by Damien at 2:37 am on July 5, 2001)
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Hi Damien,
it is a very good story with a good storyline! Havn't expected him to be in prison allready. You caught me by surprise there
.
If you like I can upload this story on the moonsilver page.
Nanuk
it is a very good story with a good storyline! Havn't expected him to be in prison allready. You caught me by surprise there
.If you like I can upload this story on the moonsilver page.
Nanuk
