Ashen Legacy

Sutter stepped onto the sun-bleached pier, the sun blazing down on his bald pate. Squinting upwards past the docks, he could see the sheer walls of the Bastion, rising like cliffs along the shoreline. A mess of stone and wood buildings of a dozen different architectural styles piled against the wall like a foul tide. He spat over the side, a look of mild disgust passing over his scarred face. It had been what, twelve years since he walked these streets? Unwelcome memories crept into his head. Memories of blood and death. He saw the cluster of red tiled roofs and couldn’t help but see them as waves of blood crashing against those bone-white fortifications. He thumbed the pommel of this side-knife, checking to see if it was still there. An instinct that came naturally after a lifetime of looking over your shoulder.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

Sutter turned to see his travelling companion, a nondescript man adjusting his cloak and hat while disembarking from the ship. He went back to surveying the docks, not bothering to respond. He came here to do a job, one that could keep him fed and drunk for years. All he had to do was suffer this overgrown peacock for a couple more weeks and he could be lounging on an Rhythian beach across the sea, far from these red memories.

The tall man stopped alongside Sutter, a striking figure in fashionable, albeit slightly out of season ensemble. He was all in black, slightly faded and worn from travel. Enough to look presentable without looking like one of those fops in the Royal quarter. Something a merchant or a sellsword would wear. Or a criminal.

“Or should I say, quite a smell!”

Sutter began walking, “Let’s get to work.”

“Oh, a man of few words and less patience I see. Can’t wait to see the streets of Saboriac?”

“I’ve seen plenty. What about you, Lord Ash?” his voice dripping with derision.

“I confess, it has been a while since I’ve been here. I don’t remember it smelling quite so bad, the stench is almost powerful enough to match your own!”

Sutter ignored the jibe, snaking his way through the press of bodies toward the Bastion gate. “It has always reeked. Must have been living beyond the wall, traipsing with the dandies in the Royal. Or you’re lying and you’ve never been here.”

Ash fanned himself with his hat as they passed under the titanic gates of the Bastion, welcoming the brief respite from the sun. “You’ve got me all figured out, Sutter. Your perception and insight is truly remarkable, despite appearances. I knew I hired the right man for the job!”

The stench of the docks receded as they wormed further into the city. People from a dozen cultures flowed through the streets, the sounds and smells of civilization pressed on all sides like a thick blanket. Beggars lined the walls on either side, hands held out in pitiful desperation. Nearby, a velvet-cloaked nobleman spat on one and struck her hand hard enough to hear the bone snap over the sound of the crowd. A hot ball of rage started to well up in Sutter’s chest, quickly reaching for the knife, sight blurred and edged crimson. He felt a black-gloved hand grab his wrist.

“It won’t do to make a scene. You’ll get your chance soon enough.” Ash muttered under his breath.

With a shake, Sutter broke Ash’s grip, cursing. “City’s gone to hell. Used to be the highborn would at least give us vagrants enough to go back to the docks so as not to stink up their pretty neighborhood. Now the poor can be seen everywhere, and no one gives a damn!”

His stride began to pick up, seeking an escape from the stifling press of bodies. “You better know what you’re doing, Ash. I took this job because I need the money, but I also want to stick it to the Nerelons.” Sutter stabbed a finger at the statue of the king as they passed by it. “Ever since that business with the murdered prince twenty years ago, the royals have been sucking us dry to fuel their decadence. They need to pay for everything they’ve done.”

Ash began to laugh incredulously. “You speak as if you are a victim, but you have been gone almost as long as I have! I surely hope you aren’t harboring some poorly conceived notion of justice. You are a killer and a thief, and you’ll take your prize and run. You don’t care about these poor people.”

“You’re right, they’re not strong enough, but I am. I’ll get my revenge. That’s all that matters.”

The pair turned sharply into a quiet street shadowed by the towering ivory walls of the Royal quarter. A wrought iron fence skirted the base of the wall, and long fluttering banners streamed down from the top, sporting the Nerelon coat of arms. Ash stopped at the end of the street, a small cul de sac garden featuring an intricately carved fountain against the wall. He stood there a moment, surveying the garden with a sense of reminiscence. After a moment’s pause, he carefully removed his left glove, revealing a hand stretched and twisted. Scars from a fire. Sutter raised an eyebrow in surprise. Maybe there was more to this fop than he presumed. On that marred hand was a simple ring of silver with a weathered crest at its crown. Ash turned his hand to look at the crest.

“Revenge is a powerful force. It makes us capable of incredible things.” He turned to Sutter with a wry smile. “That is why I knew you were the right man for the job, despite appearances.”

Ash turned to the fountain and placed the crest against an inconspicuous spot amongst the carvings. With a quiet grating sound, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden passage. Sutter could barely contain his shock. Who was this man? The palace was supposedly impenetrable, and would have taken weeks to plan a way in. Things were moving much faster than he liked. For the first time in recent memory he suddenly felt unsure of himself, like that scared orphan at the docks again. His hand moved to the safety of his knife, finding comfort in its weathered grip.

Striding confidently into the dark passage, Ash removed his ridiculous hat and turned to Sutter. “Let’s get to work.”