She handed it to me with a smile.
I thanked her again, stowed the package in my dimension ring, and left. As I exited her musty shop and breathed in the fresh, mostly clean air of the slums, I read over the paper she gave me.
It was someplace in uptown, near the Legal District.
Guess that’s my next stop…after I eat.
I popped through the next alley I came to and was standing in front of The Cask in less than five minutes.
The two stores were practically right next to each other, yet both mother and son actively went out of their way to avoid each other.
Whatever, none of my business.
Christoff was manning the bar when I arrived. He looked up as the door opened and smiled.
“Good to see you again. Been a while.” He motioned to the bar. “The usual?”
“Please,” I replied, walking up to the bar and sitting down.
There were a number of patrons sitting around drinking or eating as I walked in. I was given the cursory assessment from a few of them and dismissed as just another patron before they turned back to their conversations and drinks.
He poured me a heavy ale with a strong head to it and slid it to me. I caught it with one hand while taking out the three vahn with the other. As the beer entered my hand, I slapped his payment down.
After taking a long pull of the drink, I pulled his gift from my ring. “Oh, by the way, your mother asked me to give this to you. She says happy birthday.”
Christoff snorted and grabbed the package and the coin. The coin went to his register. The present went on a shelf under the bar.
“Thanks for playing delivery service.”
I shrugged, my curiosity getting the better of me. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Same thing that’s been going on for fifteen years.” He turned away from me, grabbing a bowl as he did so, and went to the cauldron over the fire. He scooped a generous portion of the hearty stew into the bowl and brought it over to me.
“Oh, by the way, Elias.” He set the bowl down and crouched. “These have been coming in for a month now. Most people know what happened to Charles, so the drug trade has ground to a permanent halt.” Christoff pulled a heavy sheaf of papers from below the bar and handed them over. “Most are quests to bring in some more Thanatos, but a few are standard quests that normally come in. Figured since you’re kinda the new boss around here, you might want them.”
I took the papers from him and stowed them away. “Thanks, just hold them for me. Can’t promise I’ll look into all of them, or even most of them, but if I can deal with a few of them, then I will.
“But that kind of brings me to why I’m here.” I lifted my bowl. “Besides your delicious cooking.”
I leaned in close and lowered my voice. “I may be coming into a large quantity of Thanatos in the next day or so. But drugs aren’t my area of expertise. Never have been. I need someone who can run the drug trade for me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you want my help finding that person?”
“I’m hoping I already have.” I stared at him.
It took him a second to register what I was saying.
“Me?” he asked, pointing at his chest. “Why?”
“Because.” I shrugged. “You were around when Charles ran things. You probably know a lot more than you let on and are one of the few people in this city I think I can trust.
“I can supply you with the first shipment, the names, and contacts of Charles’s suppliers, peddlers, everything. His whole network. I just need someone I can count on to oversee it all.”
“Me?” he repeated and sighed. “I’m just a bartender.”
“If you want it, it’s yours. Not trying to pressure you. The pay would be excellent, and the risk minimal as soon as I get the city sorted out. Up to you, though.”
He frowned, smiled, frowned again, and then shook his head. “I need a drink.”
Christoff poured himself an ale and leaned against the bar in front of me. He downed it in several long pulls. When he was finished, he wiped the foam on his mouth and sighed.
“I’m not saying no, but give me some time to think about it, okay?”
“Sure.” I nodded and took a bit of stew. “Won’t take possession of the shipment till tomorrow most likely, so I’ll come by when I can, and we can discuss it further when you’ve had time to process it.”
Christoff nodded and poured himself another drink. He took a sip and set it on the counter. “So, that business with the captain of the guard. Was that you?” he asked, changing the subject.
I shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiled, a bright, genuine smile that showed off his rather white teeth, which stood out next to his warm brown skin. “Well, my thanks to whoever did the deed. Mays was a nightmare to deal with, taxing the hell out of the city like he could squeeze blood from a stone. Him out of the way takes a good bit of pressure off the businesses around Vohra. At least until the new captain gets his house in order.”
“Know anything about him?” I asked over the lip of my mug.
He shook his head. “Name’s Bernard. Michael? Martin? Something with an m. Was a nobody. Just a low ranked lieutenant until Count Vohra made him the captain of the guard. Only been on duty a week, and he hasn’t been around these parts.” He held his hands up. “Sorry.”
“No worries. I can find out on my own easy enough.”
Wood scraped against wood as a few patrons rose from their seats and headed to the bar to settle their tabs.
A tall, well-built black man wearing a dark gray cloak sidled up to the bar. He had thick, midnight hair that was kept short and dark piercing eyes. His features were smooth, but there was a hard set to his chiseled jawline and sharp cheekbones.
He left a sizable tip on the bar. “The food was heavenly,” he said, in a smooth, suave tone that was filled with warmth.
Christoff smiled wide. “You’ve been saying that for a month now, but I always appreciate it. See you tomorrow, and thanks again for the tip.”
“Tomorrow,” he said as he turned and left.
I took a swig of my beer, tracking the man out of habit as he left the bar. As the door swung closed, I set my drink down, resting my chin in my hand while I drummed my fingers in staccato chaos on the bar top.
I had a few ideas floating around my skull, but I needed to put my next stage of the plan into motion.
Need to deal with the lieutenants and captain. Killing just one of them isn’t going to do much, it seems.
I’d killed Lieutenant Ildan because I’d needed the money, and I’d killed Captain Mays because I wanted to destabilize the count's power. I’d succeeded, and If I hadn’t been stabbed, the count would already be rotting in the ground.
But because I had, I’d let my opening slip by, and now I’d need to make an even bigger one.
Take away his tin soldiers and let him panic, back him into a corner, and strike. I smiled as I drained my ale. He’ll be dead, and maybe once that happens, I can figure out what Weilin really wants me to do in this world.
I had no illusions that the count was the reason I was sent to this world. No, this quest of mine seemed far more like a test than anything. Or maybe just a way to give me something to focus on and get my bearings.
I had a contract to see it through, whatever it was, and that’s what I would do. The reasons hardly mattered.
“Thanks for the drink and the food. It was exquisite as always.” I stood up and threw my hood over my head. “Should be by in a few days to start going over things…I’d keep your head down and stay off the streets if you can for a while. I’m about to make a lot of noise, and I’d rather my favorite chef not get caught up in it.”
Christoff raised his drink. “Will do. Thanks for the advice. And you be careful now.”
I shrugged, laughing. “Why start now?”
His laughter followed me as I left the bar and into the bright mid-afternoon sun.
<
br /> As the door swung open, the sun drifted into my eyes, and I went to raise my hand to shield my eyes from the harsh glare.
A glint of sunlight on metal drew my gaze up, and my instincts screamed at me.
Shit!
I dropped to the floor as a gust of air rushed over my head, swiftly followed by a thunk as an arrow embedded itself into the wood behind me.
“Fuck!” Christoff shouted.
As soon as my palms hit the wooden porch in front of The Cask, I pushed off and rolled back as another arrow slammed into where I’d been laying half a second before.
My status blinked, likely letting me know of a skill up, but I didn’t have time to deal with it at the moment.
Once I came out of my roll, I ducked behind the door frame as the wooden door shut, hiding us from the sun once more.
I looked back to Christoff, who leaned over the bar, staring at the arrow that had been a few inches short of taking him in the chest.
“Fucking hell, Elias. You almost got me shot!”
“How do you think I feel?” I shouted back. “One shooter, perched on a nearby rooftop. Is there a back way out of here I might’ve missed?”
He quickly shook his head. “No, just the front.”
“Damn.”
There was no choice, then. I either could lure them in or rush out. I don’t want to fight in the bar. Too many people who could get in the way, and I can’t predict how it’ll go, which left rushing them. It put me in the most danger but allowed me to fight unhindered and without worrying about bystanders.
My mind made up, I looked to Christoff. “I’m going to leave. It’s not right to fight in your bar.”
Christoff nodded. “Good luck!”
Dammit! Should’ve grabbed my crossbow before I went for a bite to eat. I lamented my decision and cursed my rumbling stomach. My knives were good for about fifteen feet. I could hit nearly anything within that distance, but I was trash at long range, plus my knives just wouldn’t have the stopping power to do anything but distract them at long range.
Distract them? Well, there’s my answer.
I drew my dagger and shifted to the left side of the doorway. I opened the door as carefully as I could until it was off the lock. One swift kick and the door would fling open. I was as ready as I’d ever be. I reached out with my arm and shoved the door as hard as I could.
It flew open in an arc and smacked against the wood with a loud thump. Before the reverberations could even begin, another thunk sounded as the archer fell for my trap and fired early.
I threw myself into a roll out of The Cask. The archer had already reloaded and fired in two seconds. The arrow tugged at my cloak, slicing into the fabric as it passed over my back and sunk into the windowsill to my right.
As I came up out of my roll, I took off at a dead sprint. I bolted towards the brothel in front of the alley to my left. It was where the archer was located and had the easiest access to the roof of any of the nearby buildings.
I ran to the side alley, where a lot of the VIP clients liked to enter. A wooden staircase led to the brothel, but I wasn’t trying to enter the building. As I rushed up the stairs, I climbed onto the railing and leapt to the windowsill just above it. From there, I clambered to the roof.
Just as I peeked my head up, an arrow glanced off the stone an inch from my face. Even after two decades, there was no way not to panic when an arrow lands right in front of you. I nearly let go of the eaves as the arrow skidded past, carving a groove in the white stone, but I held on and hauled myself over.
There were only a few seconds left until the archer nocked another arrow, and I needed to make the most of them.
He stood in front of me, wearing a skintight, black leather outfit not dissimilar to my own. A bevy of weapons were strapped to him, and he held a small recurve bow in his hands, a quiver of arrows at his back. A black mask covered his features, but I knew who it was even without seeing his face.
He’d discarded his gray cloak, but it was the same dark-skinned man who’d been in the bar with me.
Clutched in his fingers was another arrow, and he started bringing it to bear as I vaulted the roof and rushed him.
I withdrew a throwing knife and tossed it as I closed the distance.
Just as he nocked his arrow, my knife sailed toward him. It sliced through his bowstring and ricocheted off the polished horn frame.
The man lurched as the knife clattered harmlessly to the roof, throwing down his now useless bow.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably rich.
It was undoubtedly the same man from the bar.
I reached him as his fingers closed around the handle of his sword. I slammed my left palm into his wrist, shoving it away so he couldn’t pull it out. As his hand retracted from my strike, he left his face unguarded. I jabbed him in the chin and followed through with my punch.
His head crashed to the side from the force of the blow. He turned with the punch, stepping out of range of a second strike. He brought his hands up to guard his face as blood ran from under his mask.
He pressed his fingers to the cloth at his mouth with the back of his hand, shuffled forward, and shot a kick toward my side.
I tucked in my core and covered my ribs with my forearm as his kick landed. He struck the meat of my arm. The force rattled through me, numbing my arm on impact and sending a wave of pain radiating up from my weakened ribs and stab wound.
It was just pain, but I still couldn’t stop the grimace that tore across my face as I gritted my teeth to stop myself from crying out.
A low grown slipped through my teeth.
“The captain managed to stick you after all.” The man grinned wide. “Found blood on his knife, so I thought as much, but good to know I was right.”
I withdrew one of my throwing knives and hurled it at him, but the pain that soaked into my muscles made me slow. It flew straight but wasn’t as powerful as I could make it. The man crouched and stepped to the side just in time as it passed him.
The blade flashed in the sunlight next to his shoulder. It tugged at his leather, drawing a thin line of blood before striking the roof tile behind him.
He ignored the scratch and launched toward me. A small, silver dagger materialized in his hand, and he sliced in a shallow arc toward my stomach and abdominal aorta.
Instead of backpedaling, I stepped forward and shot my left hand to his wrist, blocking the attack. I stopped his knife cold.
Before I could counter, he opened his hand and dropped his blade. My eyes tracked the weapon as it fell. And I let my attention slip for just a second.
He smashed his fist into my face, snapping my head back. I stumbled back, fighting the pain from the busted nose, and drew my dagger.
The knife he’d dropped landed on his boot. He flashed me a wink and flicked the top of his foot upward. The blade spun end over end and landed in his outstretched hand. He hit the flat of the blade with his thumb, and it spun over his hand, and he reversed his grip.
He inclined his head to me.
“I guess I should start taking this fight seriously now.”
Chapter 22- Assassins Dance
Fighting someone skilled was a dance, rather than a brawl. It took tact, poise, and far more skill than one originally thought to be able to survive more than the first attack.
My opponent's footsteps were light, barely audible, as he raced across the tiled roof. Our footing was precarious, and I didn’t like the idea of fighting on such ground. But if I had unstable footing, so, too, did he.
He was quick and closed the distance between us in a handful of seconds. He stepped and lunged toward my heart with his left-handed dagger. His aim was true, but he sunk his hips and twisted his back foot towards me, setting up a second attack.
His first was a feint.
I shifted to the side as his blade struck empty air. His second attack was set up, and his right hand arced toward my neck, a new blade materi
alizing out of thin air. I ducked the slice and came up just as his arm passed overhead.
With both attacks having missed, he’d left himself vulnerable. I shifted and caught his arm at the tricep. I brought my sword around to disembowel him.
His arm was trapped, and he couldn’t dodge, but he sucked in his stomach and stepped back as my steel caught him below his ribs.
Slight resistance met my blade before I hewed through leather and flesh. I could already tell it was shallow, just a flesh wound.
But it was the first real cut either of us had landed.
First blood went to me.
I still had his arm trapped, and I shoved him off balance. He stumbled back. His hand still clutching his dagger, he dipped his finger into his wound and brought it up to his nose.
“If that’d been poisoned I’d be in trouble right now.”
I shrugged. “They’re new.”
He laughed. “Lucky me.”
I backed up, bringing my sword up into my stance once more. There was plenty of distance between us once more. I cast my eyes around, keeping my eyes on my surroundings.
The assassin was good, well trained. If I didn’t take this seriously, he’d likely seriously wound me. Which left one option. I couldn’t stand still.
I sprinted toward him.
The man’s eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t expecting the rush attack. His daggers came up as I engaged him. He slashed downward with one and then pivoted, trying to slice into me with the second.
I brought my dagger up and blocked the stab by resting the edge of my blade on the assassin's wrist. The second blade I caught by wrapping my hand around his arm as he whipped it at my chest.
My sword bit into his wrist, but he stopped the attack before it could do any more damage.
As soon as he tried to pull his arm back from my blade, I tugged it upward and cut through his hand. I pulled him off balance with my off-hand and struck him in the throat with my steel.
Again, the man was good. My blade touched his flesh as he leaned away from it, leaving only a shallow cut across his neck.
He disengaged and backed up quickly.
Blood dripped down his throat and disappeared under his leather. He smiled, his eyes lighting up in humor.
Isekai Assassin: Volume 1 Page 26