The Assassin
Lediert leaned against a wall, sighing softly as he did. He rubbed a hand against his cheek, catching stubble.
Moving through Repose at night had become harder than before. Once, an assassin could slink around the city with ease, passing unnoticed through its shadows like a ghost.
These days however, the cobbled streets shimmered under the glow of oil lamps. Their flames flickered infuriatingly, illuminating every corner and alleyway.
Of particular nuisance were the city’s lamplighters who lazily patrolled the night, reigniting any extinguished lamps.
This ‘Lamp Light Initiative’ had been spearheaded by the Repose council in an effort to reduce crime rates in the once unruly city. And, curse the Merciful One, it had proven remarkably effective.
Lediert was currently in the merchant district, toward the eastern border, which was marked by a long winding river that hugged the university’s grounds. Each district of Repose was separated by similar rivers, each marked by majestic golden gates with intricately designed bridges stretching beneath them. Passing through these gates at night required interaction with guards, who had set up sentry stations across each bridge. Anyone wanting to pass through would need to explain their purpose for travel first.
For Lediert’s task tonight, he would need to cross into The University’s grounds.
The river separating the two districts was too wide and fast to risk swimming across, and the gates stood tall and imposing, their surfaces much too slick and steep to offer any purchase for climbing.
As such, Lediert had spent the last week meticulously shadowing one of the city guard’s Sentinels, which were of a higher rank than the typical Wardens you would find at sentry stations.
Two nights ago his diligence had been rewarded as, like most members of the city guard, his target had frequented a certain tavern on most evenings. Lediert had given a particularly pitiful looking beggar a pouch full of coins with the instruction to ensure the Sentinel had been plied with Ebonwine all night, loosening his lips and dulling his senses.
Hours later, Lediert had followed the guard home, being less careful than he would normally need to be, to a modest dwelling nestled in a quiet corner of the merchant’s district. The house was lit by a solitary lamp light providing a warm welcoming glow by the front door.
The guard stumbled inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Then, Lediert waited. And waited.
Finally, and with practised ease, he slipped through an unlocked window into the guard's darkened bed chamber, the stench of alcohol assaulting his nostrils. Perfect. The guard lay sprawled upon his bed, snoring softly. Lediert pulled one of his blades from a pocket within his tight cloak, it gleamed briefly in the dim moonlight as Lediert leaned over the sleeping form, pausing for a heartbeat, then gliding the blade across the guard’s throat. There was a muted gasp as a red line appeared across his neck, like a broad red smile, followed by a brief struggle that faded into stillness as his life ebbed away. Lediert closed his eyes, he knew this part too well. The room fell silent once more, save for the faint rustle of the curtains and the steady rhythm of the city outside.
Lediert had then worked efficiently, placing a pre-written note exclaiming that life had become too much and he would prefer death, onto the guard’s bedside table, accompanied by a blade in his limp hand. It was placed with the intention of looking suspicious. The way the body lay, and the slight mess Lediert left the room in, appeared more like an intrusion had taken place.
Then, he took one of the guard’s uniforms, along with any identifying paperwork and exited hastily through the same window he had entered.
Lediert now stood motionless in a rare unlit alley that opened onto one of the main streets, the guard uniform adorning his lean frame.
The uniform was composed primarily of dark-coloured fabrics that felt tough, yet surprisingly flexible. The tunic and trousers were made of reinforced leather that had been dyed a deep midnight blue. Over this, a fitted long coat extended down to his thigh, which was crafted from a heavy water resistant wool blend. The coat also included reinforced shoulders and elbows, fitted with polished obsidian plates, that blended seamlessly with the fabric, offering protection without hindering movement. His right arm was adorned with golden embroidery that reflected his rank as Warden.
Lediert inspected himself in some remnants of a shattered mirror, he had to admit this was one of the most efficient uniforms for combat mixed with comfort that he had ever come across. He made a mental note to take it back to The Conclave after he completed this current assignment; they could take inspiration from its subtleties with their own attire.
The missive he had received had been the same as they always were, simple, blunt, and to be destroyed after reading.
The target was Archmagister Khazim, the head of the Repose University. The man was much loved by the city, well respected by his peers, and was understood to be formidable with magic.
It was only natural that Lediert be chosen to perform such a task.
He had strict instructions to make the assassination look like it was an in-house betrayal, and incite paranoia within the walls of Repose. He was unsure of what his masters planned, but he had learned long ago that it was not his place to dare ask such questions. He brushed his fingers across the insignia on his arm idly, lost in thought for a moment. The Conclave had been different since Ixtin’s passing, something that Lediert lamented, he had looked to Ixtin as a father figure for as long as he could remember.
He cursed himself for not seeing Inoch sooner. Whilst Ixtin had not been his blood, he had treated Lediert as if he had been, accepting him into his family and helping fill the void that had been left after the bloody deaths of Lediert’s own parents. He would speak with Inoch after this, he was an honest man and undeserving of the pressures placed on him. He did not live the life Lediert or Ixtin did, he was a good man.
He was a good man…
Lediert shook his head, coming out of his stupor. What was he doing? This was not the time to allow sentimental thought to cripple him when he needed to be at his most efficient.
He slid his blades within newly made pockets he had sewn into the thighs of his trousers and exhaled, uttering a brief prayer to Lament, the Goddess of The Hunt as he did. Then he rounded out of the alleyway into the main street.
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The Repose accent wasn’t too hard to mimic, you had to cut your words off sharply at the end of each sentence and raise your pitch slightly. Lediert had picked a certain dialect from one of the city’s outer villages in particular which should give a small amount of leeway for slip ups.
He adjusted his gait as he walked, adding a flair of militant discipline to his steps, each foot hitting the ground with just that bit more authority.
Lediert crossed beneath the giant gate and continued to the middle of the bridge where the sentry station was located. Two Wardens stood idly engaged in small talk, immediately standing to attention upon seeing him.
He approached and gave a half hearted salute, drawing a smile to his face.
“Please Gentlemen, at ease.” They relaxed visibly as he approached. The smaller of them hurried to a table off to the side whilst the other held his gaze.
“Busy tonight?” Lediert asked, producing the identification that would match his uniform .
“No sir.” The taller soldier replied. “Not really any need to be travelling to The University at night, I suppose.” He sighed, reaching out his hand to collect Lediert’s paperwork. “Save for deliveries, maybe.”
He slid the paperwork into the Warden’s hands. Would he take the bait?
The taller Warden nodded with a smile, turning to his smaller companion who now stood with a stamp and writing tools at the ready, then began unfolding the papers.
“Ready?” He asked.
The smaller man nodded.
“Sentinel…” The Warden hesitated, studying the paperwork. He glanced toward Lediert then back down again.
“Sentinel Gavishene. Forge District.” He said, folding the papers and handing them hurriedly back to Lediert. The man was uncertain, but he was not going to challenge a superior in such a blatant way. But… Lediert had planted a seed of suspicion in the man’s mind.
Lediert had replaced a picture of Gavishene with one of his own. It didn’t look perfect, but it nearly did. It was the tiny imperfections that he was counting on any keen eyed Warden to detect, and thank Lament, it looked like this one had.
The smaller guard scribbled something down on his ledger before hefting the stamp down on top of it. The joviality had disappeared from the taller guard’s face, replaced with uncertainty.
Lediert held his gaze, staring intensely at the man.
Reluctantly, the guard nodded toward the far end of the bridge and handed the papers back.
“Very well gentlemen.” Lediert said, raising his hand to a salute, holding it until both guards returned the gesture.
He continued across the bridge without looking behind him. Only once he had crossed completely and set foot onto the University’s grounds did he glance over his shoulder. He saw the two guards deep in intense conversation.
His timer had started.
In his mind he played out the guards at the bridge alerting their superiors. He knew the route well, for he had pored over countless images, old blueprints, and even paced parts of the route around the university himself in preparation. He would have a few precious minutes before word reached authorities and a few more minutes after that before the area became flooded with bodies searching for him.
The grounds were split into several campuses and high rising buildings, all divided by lush greens, neatly trimmed bushes and extravagant fountains. As the university’s Archmagister, Khazim’s residence was set toward the centre of the grounds, in a large tower that overlooked the recreational greens. Lediert grimaced as he spied a statue of a particularly pretentious looking scholar raised loftily on a pedestal, then froze in his tracks at the sound of hushed voices.
He ducked down furiously, pressing his body to the pedestal. The voices continued then cut to a hush. Stalking him no doubt. Lediert glanced either side of the pedestal and slid his knives out silently. He had assumed he would have had more time.
He could hear the clumsy footsteps rounding a fountain beyond the statue, hidden by large bushes, their voices talking in short, sharp whispers. Lediert considered for a moment, three, maybe four of them? Challenging, but not beyond his capabilities.
They came closer. He waited. Painful seconds.
Lediert swung from his position rounding on his assailants, arms held out widely ready to bring his knives downward in an arcing motion.
He was met with three slinking students, one of them yelling out in fear, the other two too preoccupied with their stealth - or lack thereof - to notice Lediert’s sweeping figure. Their features dropping and faces turning pale upon seeing him.
“Please, please.” One of them murmured. “We can go back, please don’t fetch the elders.”
Lediert stood stunned for a brief moment. Instinctively he flipped the knives inwards, sliding them into his sleeves, before lowering his arms.
One of the students, a pompous looking youth with a ridiculous blonde mop of hair on his head, seemed to find their courage at this. He eyed Lediert suspiciously. “Why is a member of the city guard slinking around the university grounds after curfew…?” He let the question hang in the air.
“I suggest.” Lediert said in his most menacing tone. “If you wish this little liaison to remain a secret, you move on before sense takes the better of me and I alert the nearest elder.” He turned to the student, “or simply cuff you in the ear for daring to speak to a Sentinel in such a tone.”
The student narrowed his eyes suspiciously before being dragged off by his apologetic companions. He watched them disappear beyond some bushes and continued, cursing to himself.
That delay may prove to be costly.
Testing the whims of fate, he made for the tower in a full sprint. The grounds provided enough cover for him to remain hidden for the most part, and a newly birthed moon ensured that Lediert would not be well illuminated. Still, it was desperate, he didn’t usually operate in this manner, but his window of opportunity was so slim.
During his research phase, Lediert had discovered that Khazim was known to have a strict evening routine which would ensure he would be fast asleep by now. However, within the tower, each door was locked with runes Khazim would have created to respond to him and him alone.
Lediert could disable them, of course - he was one of the few who could - but again, he needed time for this.
He brushed his thoughts aside hurrying forward and reaching the tower door, he would worry about rune locks he was ins- Pain.
Pain screamed at Lediert as he slowly registered the wet slapping sound of an arrow piercing his chest. He looked down in disbelief.
Spinning, he tried to spot his attacker. Leaning on the tower wall as he did, his body suddenly feeling very heavy. He spun the knives out from within his sleeves, poised.
THUNK! Another arrow punctured his shin, making a sickening crack as bone was shattered. He fell to one knee, the pain bringing tears to his eyes. He would not scream.
A cloaked figure appeared before him, a bow in his hand with an arrow notched in the string, aimed at Lediert. Lediert squinted through tears, where had this person come from? No one was here. He was sure of it. No, he knew there had been no one here.
“You can come out.” The figure said. “It is safe.”
The door behind Lediert opened slowly, giving a slight creak before another hooded figure stepped through it. This one was bigger, more rounder than his companion, and was wearing deep red robes. He pulled back his hood to reveal a bald middle aged man with a rich beard. Khazim.
“Fool boy.” He said looking down at Lediert. “I would have expected more from an assassin charged with my execution. We detected you and your activities days ago.”
Lediert tried to retort. Instead, he made a soft gurgling sound as blood left his mouth.
“Bring him to my chambers.” Khazim said to his companion before turning and walking back inside the tower.
“We shall keep you alive assassin. Long enough to tell us your secrets.” He disappeared into the darkness beyond the door. Darkness which Lediert felt himself slipping into, and embracing longingly.
