1 Vhalar 722
It was almost sunset by the time Reno got in. He turned the key to the door and pushed it open. The hinges squealed and the brightness from the world outside began to swallow the shadows within the home. He stood on the threshold like a lithe statue. His shadow, long and thin, darkened the polished floorboards while he let the place “breathe”.
When little more than a roach creeped forward from beneath a chair, Reno sighed and stepped inside. He shut and locked the door firmly behind him. His coat, folded up in his arms, was carefully left on the kitchen table. His spine cracked with a roll of his shoulders. Only when he had a bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses in his hands did he retire before a hearth.
He enjoyed his first glass alone. His sword was off his hips and resting on the seat beside him. After every few sips he gazed into the dancing, crackling fires and listened to it whisper it’s secrets in his ears. Finally he was alone. He relished every moment of it.
Until he heard his door rattle. His golden eyes lifted from his cup at the sound. He pressed his lips together and downed the whiskey left in his glass. By the time the key won its battle with the rusty lock, both glasses were generously filled.
"Afternoon,” the jovial voice broke across the threshold.
"Or is it evening?” Reno countered, gesturing absently out the nearby window toward the coloring sky.
"A trial on its out in any case.”
"Hm…”
"If I may?”
Reno beckoned the speaker in with a casual nod. The thick man pulled at his red beard and cleared his throat before entering the beige home. He turned and nodded his head at someone behind him before speaking again.
"Patty from Etzos sent him,” Red Beard began the introduction just before an ominous creature fell in behind him. "Name is Lyle. Patty says he’s the sharpest he’s seen. Most trustworthy too.”
"Yes, well, if Patty says so,” Reno shrugged but set one of the drinks on the far edge of the opposite side of the coffee table. "Sit.”
"Would you like me outside on the door, sir?” Red Beard inquired as Lyle cautiously paced further into the home.
"No. We have orders to oversee the safe passage of that caravan, remember? Once they hit Westguard I want their numbers bolstered for the tail end of the journey. A show of force on our end and a successful delivery would go far to reassure our partners…and our superiors.”
"I already had some men in mind.”
"Then get them up to speed and staged for the trial of departure. Lyle and I have too much in common for me to require your services here. Besides…even in Oh’Pee only a wretch guts the good host pouring the liquor.”
Red Beard gave Reno a nod and pulled the door shut. Lyle waited a couple moments before granting Reno his undivided attention. He pulled down his hood and eased into the chair across from Reno. In the firelight, flames danced across the edges of his heavily marred face.
"I appreciate your discretion,” Reno admitted as he corked the bottle. "Not many men agree to meet a stranger alone. Far fewer in this line of work.”
"You present a rare challenge,” Lyle’s grainy voice replied. "With a purse to match. The animal that bites the hand that feeds starves, and you offer a king’s share.”
"So you’ve no qualms?”
"Not one.”
"Good. Have you given it some thought?”
"Plenty. There’s opportunities for each. I’ve done some…baseline research. Depends on the position you want to open.”
"Thorden Trask.”
Lyle gave a smug grin at the suggestion. One of the hands carefully resting in his lap picked up the whiskey glass poured for him. Reno measured him as he sipped the drink. Lyle nodded his approval at the stiff drink and settled into his chair.
"The Minister of Trade,” Lyle observed. "You aim high.”
"I don’t have the aspirations,” Reno explained with sighing boredom. "My superiors have a motivated leader in mind. He has the desire, and his background makes him best suited for it.”
"Sounds like a background disconnected from the common man…”
"He is an impressive find. Any common man put off by his generational wealth is enamored by the war stories told about him, and his preached values. So many poor sods were put to the sword between Rhakros and the Morties, the veterans left look after each other. After that, his business savvy just makes him irresistible as a candidate.”
"Charismatic?”
"Painfully so.”
"Then you’ve chosen the perfect mark. All I ever hear about Trask is that he’s quite the prick.”
"Whispers he’ll cannibalize his own too.”
"I appreciate when a man does his own research before pawning the job off to the likes of me.”
The two men chuckled into their whiskeys. The fire cracked between them while they sipped.
"When can I expect it done?” Reno asked, smile sapping from his face into stone cold seriousness.
"Depends,” Lyle confessed. "I have some ideas. I can get to him. Jobs like these are better off done as a slow burn.”
"Soonest?”
"This arc.” The sound of a coin bag hitting Lyle’s lap rang out. The man smirked. "End of next season. Best I can do to do it right.”
"I can accept that.”
"When I’m set I’ll send a runner to collect half.” Lyle stood up and finished his whiskey. "Once I have the half in my hands, I do the work and scratch your itch. The runner will come again to collect the other half before the body is cold.”
"Fair terms.”
Reno stood up and shook Lyle’s offered hand firmly with a smile. He took the empty glass from Lyle’s hand and placed it on the table. Thick as thieves, Reno walked the hitman to the door and saw him out. Lyle had the coins tucked deep in his pockets before the door was shut and locked behind him.
Still beaming with bloody anticipation, Reno poured himself a third celebratory glass. He sat at the hearth for a while until the log burned low. Then, full of fine drink and victory, he retired to his bedroom.
He slipped his tunic off and folded it like he had his coat, perfectly creased and even, left on the end of his bed. The shoes came off and were placed side-by-side beside the door. His pants were last, folded and left beneath his tunic so that his body was bare.
He wandered into the bathroom with hands on his face. The week had been long and his body was feeling it now. His mind was troubled, and luck hadn’t been his to claim. Hiring Lyle had put him back on track. Closer to back on track at least.
He set his candle down on the table holding his small wash basin. When he drew his head and eyes up to peer into the mirror, his eyes widened and his body jumped. He didn’t have time to turn before his head was put through the mirror. Shards of reflective glass spilled everywhere, and he grunted his surprised protest.
Reno was tossed back into the hallway of the small home before he fully comprehended his situation. Max was on him, fist pounding into the side of his face twice before his guard was formed. He managed to reach out to grab her by the hair. She responded by sinking her teeth into the flesh of his extended arm, and he howled louder when he felt her shin strike between his legs.
Reno squealed and dropped to the floor with his hands clutching protectively around his naked crotch. Max stood over him, bloodshot eyes glowering and clothes reeking of Ambrosia and spilled rum. He wanted to berate her but his balls were still in his throat. His mind went to his sword he’d left downstairs on the chair.
"I knew someone was hand feeding Tristane Dorrick status,” Maxine began between grit teeth. "With all the dirty shit I’ve seen, I shouldn’t be surprised about how far you assholes are really willing to go.”
"Who the fuck are you?” Reno finally wheezed out.
"Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you?” Max followed him as he tried to painfully bring his legs in toward the rest of his body, evidently thinking of standing again. "Selfish, corrupt bastards. You think you can just pick off Councillors and place your puppets?”
"The people of Etzos—“
Maxine’s elbow cracked across Reno’s face before he finished his sentence. A tooth loosened in his mouth and blood filled his tongue. He staggered backward.
"Yes!” she decreed with a wild expression. "The People of Etzos! Their Council. Their choice of representation and rule. Not yours.”
"The people don’t know what they want. Sometimes they need the right choice made for them.”
"So, what? They should be so lucky to have you to make their minds up for them?”
"Something like that. I fill their pockets, too. Is that why you’ve come here? You’d like me to fill yours? Is it brute work you want like scratching? Or is it position your ambitious heart desires?”
After another strike to his face sent him to the floor again, Reno looked up with a bloody smile. The new stimulus at least took some of his pain receptors’ attention off his bruised testicles. He chuckled up at the furious figure, small but mighty, casting a shadow over him in his own safe haven.
"You people fucking disgust me.” The Rusalka spat at his feet. "Of all the dead in this city, scum like you remain.”
"You think I’m a common man?” Reno cocked a brow. "That I don’t believe and serve a higher power and purpose? The pieces on the chessboard I move are strategy toward a greater good. We are Guardians, after all.”
"Fuck you and your cryptic, prophecy bullshit.”
"This is an important era in Etzos’ history. There are moments happening simultaneously, opportunities to be seized. We are merely putting this city on the shining, right path forward.”
Reno got to his feet. He straightened up with a groan and turned his head left and then right. His hands unapologetically moved from the shield position around his genitals to his sides. He raised his chin.
"The actions we’ve set in motion cannot be undone,” the man tutted patronizingly. "I am but a drop in the ocean, and for whatever reason brought you here, bloodying your sword with the likes of me will not stop the tide from rushing in despite you.”
At mention of a blade Maxine unsheathed hers. The ethereal blue flames lapped hungrily along the length of the gladius. She knew not where the blade had originated from. She was only sure that if offered no Mercy.
"Vast resources and a network.” She nodded slowly, almost like she was evaluating it, something familiar and linked to the dark clouds that suddenly gathered on her face. She’s read those words on paper before during a time someone gave her the boon of literacy."Is that what you threaten me with? You and your web of powerful allies?” Reno straightened as Max gave the sword a twirl in her hand. "Do you think you’re going to get away with it again?”
"Again?” Reno tilted his head.
Maxine moved her sword to her shoulder. The Guardian noticed how the flame didn’t burn and she didn’t flinch at its touch. His fascination was redirected when the azure light illuminated her features in his dark hallway. Her pupils were dilated, the whites of her eyes bloodshot like some rabid animal. Not a muscle in her frame seemed relaxed.
Reno took a step back and she mirrored his movement like a deadly shadow.
"You see the Council as a big target just like last time.” The daggers in her eyes were sharp. "I. See. You.”
"I’m not sure I’m following you…”
"You were my responsibility,” Max continued, deeply present and yet so obviously distant. "I was supposed to handle you. Stop you. In Scalvoris.”
"What are you going on about?”
"I. Was. Supposed to!”
"What medley are you on?! You’re stark raving mad, woman!”
Reno started to back pedal but found Max was quick to follow. He turned in haste and made a dash toward his room. He collapsed upon the desk, throwing the drawer open where he knew a dagger slept in it’s scabbard. The hand fishing for it was severed in one fell.
Reno’s scream filled the home. The hand’s fingers permanently curled around the handle of the dagger in the drawer while he recoiled with a bloody stump. He fell back onto his rear, gaping at the bloody end of his arm. Maxine’s foot knocked his upper body down flat to the floor. He shook when the tip of her sword traced from the base of his throat, down the line of his chest and abdomen, to his pelvis.
"Mad bitch!” Reno quivered, body shivering.
"Shhh,” The Rusalka consoled him ominously. "I’m just here to fulfill my purpose. Do what I was supposed to. It’ll be over soon.”
The Guardian lifted a foot like he thought to strike her, but he gasped when her next cut mutilated what hung between his legs. She tilted her head, watching him wail and twist beneath her like a fly in her web.
"I was distracted before…” Max kneeled on his solar plexus and leaned away from the hand and stump searching up for her. "I got lost…I forgot what I was supposed to do…I remember now…” She raised and turned the tip of her sword down. The Rusalka brought the hilt to her forehead, wild eyes briefly closing as if in reverence. "I can make it right again…”
Reno’s accusing insults were deaf to her ears she was so far removed from this reality she shared with him. He was cut off when her eyes flashed open and the sword buried in his chest. The steel navigated through the space in his ribs into the cavity. Into the lungs, which filled with blood and had Reno gurgling until she gave the sword a savage twist.
"It’s all the same,” she murmured while she admired the dimness growing in her victim’s eyes. "This time will be different.” Blood spilled over Reno’s bare chest and began to fill in the gaps in the wood beneath him. "I’m focused again. He did not come from the dark…and she’s not here to deny me. It’s fate.
Maxine pulled her sword from Reno’s chest. Then she leaned in to whisper as though his ears could hear.
"Let your man send as many bodies as he wants. Your caravan will not see me coming. You are not prepared for me.”
The Rusalka, mad with Ambrosia and drink, rose and vanished from the scene just as quickly as she’d come. Wherever she went from this wretched mess she made, it was with an addled mind tainted by the plot she’d discovered this trial.
And there was little between the veil of Arc 722 and Arc 720.
