Infinite Assassins: Daggerland Online Novel 2 A LITRPG Adventure

by Peter Meredith

  Cricket’s eyes went big as she saw the gold inside. She probably hadn’t seen that much gold in her life. Replacing the board, he left the apartment, locking it behind him. Instead of leaving, he went to the apartment across from Beckwen’s and knocked on the door.

  No one answered, so he put his ear to the door and listened. The air inside the apartment was still; no one was home. Dropping down to one knee, he pulled out his thieves tools, and slipped two picks and a thin tension wrench into keyhole. He worked the picks into the lock while at same time applying pressure to the wrench. In twelve seconds the wrench turned and the door opened(XP +35).

  The apartment was much homier than Beckwen’s. There were little knickknacks scattered around and the walls were covered with oil paintings of smiling, but dull-eyed people who all bore a strong resemblance to one another. Roan heaved the couch near the door, leaving enough room to open the door halfway if he wished.

  “Listen at the door,” he told Cricket. “Tell me if you hear anything.” Obediently, she went to the door and put an ear to it. He turned to the bedroom on the left. There was a lumpy but sturdy bed in the middle of the room. He dragged it to the door, this time leaving only just enough room to open the door about a foot. Next, he unslung the coil of rope in his pack and tied one end to the bed.

  “Just in case,” he said, giving the knot a hard yank.

  After that, it was a waiting game and while the two waited, Roan showed Cricket how to work the winch on the side of the crossbow. She needed the strength in her entire body to ready the weapon. “Then it’s nothing but aim and shoot. Not that I want you using it today. Just load it for me.”

  Next to her were five bolts. If he needed more than that, chances were that he’d be going out the window.

  Their wait lasted eleven minutes before the silence in the hall was broken by the scrape of something metal on the wall. Roan eased down to the keyhole and peeked through. At first, he saw nothing but a black blur; something or someone was right in front of the door he was crouched behind.

  “Do it,” someone whispered. A second later the black blur moved and he was able to see partially into the hall. There was someone at Beckwen’s door and there came a light scraping as the person began picking her lock. A minute later her door swung open—Roan counted as six people entered his apartment.

  Six against one were poor odds for a thief. Turning to Cricket, Roan put a finger to his lips and then silently opened the apartment door. It was time to even the odds and with only a dagger in his hands, he stepped out into the hall.

  Chapter 10

  Oberast, Daggerland

  The green armbands told Roan they were Ghak thugs, which meant there would be repercussions to killing them. It was a chance he’d have to take since the only alternative was death.

  Roan set his “move silently” skill against the last man’s “listen” skills. He had a plus four advantage and was able to step right up to the thug as he stood in the doorway of Beckwen’s apartment. With a quick move, Roan buried his dagger deep into the man’s back, gaining extra damage from both his strength and his sneak attack ability.

  The thug jerked with a gasp and died(XP +40). The next man didn’t recognize the sound of death. He was standing with his hands on his hips as the others fanned out to search Beckwen’s apartment.

  “This place has been stripped already,” the man groused. “There ain’t nothin’ worth tak…” The flash of Roan’s dagger turned the word into a scream. The thug was fast and tried to dodge, but the blade took him in the throat at a downward angle that transfixed the trachea and blood flowed down into his lungs (XP +40).

  “He’s in front!” one of the Ghak thugs cried.

  Roan turned and ran for the door across the hall, slipping through and slamming it behind him. He didn’t lock it, however. Picking up the crossbow, he pointed it just as the door burst partially open, hitting the couch with a bang. At the same time, Roan fired at pointblank range.

  He was attacking a man with leather armor and a fourteen dexterity, however there wasn’t room for the man to dodge, so Roan with his +3 attack bonus had a better than fifty-fifty chance of hitting him. The third time was the charm and the bolt sunk into his chest.

  He groaned and reeled back but as Roan didn’t get an addition to his experience point total, he knew he hadn’t killed the thug. Still the man wanted to get away and he blundered back into his friends, giving Roan a precious second to slam the door shut and throw his weight behind it.

  “Cricket, take the crossbow,” he held the bow out to her. Once she took it, he was able to turn his full attention to holding the door shut. Even with the couch as an added impediment, Roan was going against three men and slowly the door was pushed inward.

  “Hurry Cricket!” With her teeth grit together and straining with all her might, she slowly worked the handle of the winch around in little circles. He saw she wasn’t going to get the bow ready in time and abruptly leapt back from the door so that it came flying open, giving him a clear shot with his dagger. The blade turned on the stiff leather of one of the thugs and didn’t penetrate it.

  Cricket was already running for the bedroom. She slipped through the foot-wide opening without a problem, while Roan almost got stuck and got stabbed in the left shoulder getting through (Damage -5 HP). Cursing through the pain, he fought to shut the door, which bowed in a moment later as his attackers piled up outside of it.

  Thankfully, Cricket had the crossbow cocked and loaded seconds later. “Ratchet!” She held it out to him. Tossing the dagger onto the bed, he took the crossbow and stepped back from the door, aiming through the opening. This time he did not miss. The bolt sunk up to its stabilizing feathers into a thug’s eye(XP +40).

  The man dropped where he stood and Roan saw there’d be no closing the door again. He flung aside the crossbow and ripped out his rapier, stabbing through the opening at one of the thugs. The man danced back out of reach, with the tip of Roan’s sword coming within an inch of his throat.

  The remaining thugs were at a terrible disadvantage; they carried short swords and had to force their way through a narrow opening. Roan could stab them almost without retaliation. He could see their shadows as they backed away. At first he thought they were leaving but then heard one of them hiss, “Get that end of the table.”

  In a flash, he understood—they were going try to ram the door open with the table and then overwhelm him with numbers. Roan ran to the end of the bed and threw his weight into it, shoving the door mostly closed. A second later, he was jarred backward as the door was attacked with the makeshift ram.

  The door suffered a tremendous crack straight down the middle. The table didn’t fare so well and looked as if it had exploded on impact. Seeing Roan on the other side of the bed, the men attacked the door, throwing their shoulders into it and Roan was forced to grab his rapier and jump on the bed as it was thrust back. Once more they were at a disadvantage and Roan drew blood with one of his stabs through the broken door.

  Still, the door was no longer a barrier and he had three men to deal with. He turned to Cricket to tell her to go out the window, only just then she thrust the loaded crossbow into his hands. He didn’t hesitate. Aiming at the first man to come through the door, he leveled him with a bullseye straight to the heart(XP +40).

  Now, there were only two and both were injured. They hesitated, which was enough for Roan to go from defense to offense. He judged that a spirited attack would take the fight out of them and in this, he wasn’t wrong. With a roar, he pushed through the door opening and attacked. One of the thugs took off running while the other was left to deal with Roan who pressed him too closely for him to turn his back.

  Roan hoped that his reach and speed advantage would allow him to kill the brute quickly, but he failed to draw blood in three straight attacks as the man battled fiercely. It took half a minute of banging back and forth through the apartment before the tip of Roan’s rapier got by the man’s short sword and slid into his he
art, stopping it (XP +40).

  Cricket had been watching from the bedroom, the cocked and ready crossbow looking huge in her skinny arms. “That was some good fighting, Ratch…”

  He pushed past her into the room, his mind spinning. He had to stop that last Ghak thug. If he made it to Corvo or Rinely, there would be more trouble. Grabbing the crossbow, he slung it over his shoulder and went to the window where the rope hung down to the ground forty feet below.

  Down he went, at first going hand over hand, only he was going too slowly. Wrapping his legs around the rope and using his cloak to protect his hands he slid down the rope like fireman down a pole. In seconds he was on the ground and running to the front of the building, where he saw the last thug backing away from the entrance, perhaps hoping his friend would appear at the last moment.

  Roan walked up to him and in front of thirty witnesses, shot him in the back from two feet away(XP +40).

  2—

  The witnesses to the thug’s murder weren’t like real world witnesses who might have screamed and gone running for cover. And, in truth, they weren’t like normal Daggerland witnesses either who would have been more stoic in the face of death, but definitely would have told the local king or mayor.

  The Free City of Oberast bred a different type of people. They wouldn’t do anything unless there was some way to profit from it. They watched Roan drop down next to the body, search it for gold, take the green armband from it and then calmly walk into the apartment building.

  At the door, he turned around to see the concerned citizens of Oberast fighting over the man’s armor and sword. “Pathetic,” he said, heading inside. He only made it to the second floor before the adrenaline in his system began to thin out. His wounds started to ache; so he took out one of his two healing potions and drank it (Heal +6 HP).

  Back at a hundred percent, he jogged up the stairs to the fourth floor. One person had her head sticking out of their door. At the sight of Roan, she ducked back inside her apartment and locked the door.

  “Cricket?” Roan called as he entered the apartment across from Beckwen’s. The little girl was picking up the mess left by the fight. There were upended chairs, fallen candles, scattered nicknacks and pictures that hung askew. And there were puddles of blood.

  The evil part of Roan shrugged at the mess. However, it was only a small part of him, and in seconds he was next to the girl, helping to set things straight. There was a problem with the five corpses. They couldn’t put a doily over the pile and think that would make everything alright.

  “What do you think?” Roan asked. “Toss them out the window?”

  Cricket went to the window and leaned far out. “They might splat you know, and that would be gross. Or they might land on someone. There are people down in that alley. It wouldn’t be good to get hit on the head with a dead body, I don’t think.”

  Roan decided to drag all the bodies into the living room of the apartment and simply left them there. As a nod to doing the right thing, he left the thugs’ armor and weapons for the homeowner. Altogether it was worth close to a hundred in gold.

  “You’re leaving too much, I’d say,” Cricket remarked as she stood eyeing the pile of bodies. “They got a busted door and some dead bodies to worry about. At least take their swords.”

  He had already relieved them of two sets of thieves’ tools, three gold rings and a hundred and sixteen in gold and silver; a hundred of it in a single pouch. It was most likely the cost of setting up the hit on Roan that Rinely had paid. He took Cricket’s advice and moved the swords across the hall, sliding them beneath his lumpy mattress.

  Then the two of them went back to the apartment across the hall. They waited, not knowing if there was going to be another attack. Two hours dragged by before Cricket went into the kitchen and began poking around. She was back a minute later, asking, “Can I get a silver, please? I’m hungry and the lady has chicken eggs.”

  Roan gave her two silvers. “Make enough for both of us.” The girl put the coins on the top of the ice box where they couldn’t be missed. She banged around for a bit before she came back to where Roan was sitting against the door of the apartment. She’d made scrambled eggs and toast and for an eight year-old she’d done a remarkable job.

  “These are good,” Roan said. “You must have had practice.”

  She laughed at the idea. “Practice? Oh no. Rinely would never let me practice. But I do get to have the leftover scraps to make my meals with. I can make all kinds of stuff. You just have to know what’s gone and spoiled and what hasn’t. You don’t want to eat spoiled stuff. No way. If you want, I’ll be your cook.”

  There was practically a begging quality to her voice. She wanted to be useful. In the world she had grown up in, someone who didn’t pull their own weight wasn’t kept around.

  “Sure, I could use a cook. How much do you charge? A silver a day plus room and board?” Her eyes shot wide at the prospect of such an offer. She started to nod when Roan heard a sound in the hall. He turned to the keyhole and watched as Beckwen came tiptoeing up the hall. She stopped at her own door and tapped on it.

  “Hello? Hello? Lord Ratchet? Lord Mundold?” She waited a few seconds before slowly opening her own door. “Hello?” She didn’t cross the threshold and after a moment shut and locked the door before scurrying away, probably to tell Rinely what she had seen.

  Both Cricket and Roan sat back in relief when she’d gone. “Rinely will probably think we ran away,” Roan said.

  “Why don’t we?” Cricket asked, her big eyes growing even bigger. “With all that gold, we could go live in the hoity-patoity part of the city. The Ghak never go into the north sector. That’s Finn territory.”

  “I can’t. I have work to do down here.” He handed her his empty plate. “Part of being the cook is cleaning up after yourself.” She was in the kitchen whistling a disjointed tune when there were more steps in the hallway. “Shhh!” he hissed, readying his crossbow.

  He was staring through the keyhole when someone stuck a key into it. Jumping up, he got behind the door as it opened. It was an old woman, carrying a ball of yarn in one hand and a bag filled with fruit in the other. She let out a squeak when she saw Roan.

  “Quietly now, ma’am,” Roan warned. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but he wasn’t going to allow her to make a fuss, either. “Just sit down on the couch and nothing will happen to you.”

  She sat, her jaw quivering and her eyes wet with fear. She kept glancing at the pile of bodies.

  “Do you want me to make you something to eat?” Cricket asked her. “I’m a cook now.” The woman shook her head.

  The three of them settled into a long and uncomfortable silence. It lasted two hours. Roan finally stood. “We’re leaving now,” he told the woman. “You can keep or sell whatever you find on those bodies. Let’s go, Cricket.”

  They crossed to Beckwen’s apartment, where Roan stashed almost all of his gold back under the floorboard. He kept back a hundred and fifty. Fifty for spending and a hundred just in case Corvo demanded Rinely’s fee be returned to him.

  “Wait here,” he told Cricket. “If I’m not back by midnight, take the gold and make your way out of the city. Be smart with it. Keep only a little on you at a time and don’t let anyone know how much you really have.” Cricket nodded, and he tousled her dirty blond hair. “Take a bath as well.”

  He left her and went through the apartment buildings as the locals did, crossing the swinging foot bridges until he came to the building across from Rinely’s Cafe. It was just after five-thirty; he didn’t want to show up too early, so he decided to find a vantage point where he could stake out the cafe without being seen. The best view for such a thing was an east-facing second floor window. He dropped down to the second floor and began listening at doors until he found one that sounded unoccupied.

  In a flash he had his picks out and was working them into the lock. Once he was interrupted by man coming from an apartment three doors down. It was a stick-thin black
man who stared for all of a second before walking quickly away, his head turned back as he did.

  Would the man tell someone? And if so, who? The Ghak? An idea struck him. Taking out one of the green armbands, he slid it over his own bicep. Now, he was legit, sort of. The lock came open seconds later (XP +35) and he slipped into a dark apartment. A rumbling snore came to him, causing his heart to jump.

  He reached for the door knob, thinking he would leave and find an empty apartment, however, just then his eyes fell on a collection of wine bottles sitting like ten-pins next to the door. This made him second guess himself. Was this the home of an alcoholic? If so, he’d have little to worry about.

  Moving on cat’s feet, he slipped past the bedroom door where the snores were coming from and into the kitchen where, if he crouched down, he could see into the cafe across the street. The dinner crowd was just starting to filter in and yet there was a man near the back who didn’t touch either his cup or the plate in front of him.

  “The advance man,” Roan murmured to himself. If the city was as full of gangster wannabes as Cricket suggested, there were probably hits going on all the time. Corvo was probably just protecting himself and not setting Roan up…maybe. There would be more men coming; one to watch the back, another down the street, perhaps there was even a third somewhere just below him on the street.

  Corvo showed up at exactly six o’clock.

  Immediately, Rinely came over, but was shooed away by a severe-looking woman. Even from across the street, her sharp face and dark eyes were a force. She faded into the background as Corvo sat, he too, watching the street.

  “Best not to keep him waiting.” Roan drew up the collar of his cloak so that he felt a little like Count Dracula. He left the apartment and went down to street level. Pretty much exactly where he expected to find a thug was a young man in leather armor, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed short sword. Had Roan wished, he could have slit his throat in a blink.