One last job

He walked down the road, slowly taking in the sights the city held. It was quite lovely, the simplistic nature of the architecture, and the flawless positioning of the most beautiful buildings placed on the main road. But of course this belied the road a few blocks to the east, the one where his guild held sway. It seemed darker as he started heading towards it. As if the gods were looking upon it in shame and trying to cover it in the darkness. Ah well, all the better for his chosen profession.

He walked by a shop, quickly glancing at it, casing it if you will. The lock was simple, the wards on the door were rudimentary at best and any man who was dedicated enough to getting in could do so with relative ease. The shopkeeper was busy yelling at the boy who worked for him, screaming obscenities that would make any sailor proud. Glancing skyward once more, he couldn’t help but recall a line of poetry he wrote some time ago,
“The Raven comes in the darkest of night,
Surpassing all in its beautiful flight,
It leaves no shadow on the ground,
And it moves almost without a sound.
But beware when it lands,
Because no matter what it never belies its plans.”

Ah to be young again, back in the time before all of it became so muddled. When the mastery of his art meant something and muggers weren’t on every corner. He did what he could to keep his part of the town organized, and in doing so unintentionally created a syndicate. Now it all was too easy it seemed, he no longer got the same rush he used to from picking a lock, from sneaking away from a shop or home with things worth thousands in coin. He seemed hollow, but it was all he knew, he would never turn his back on it.

He came to his own home, a shack that showed nothing of the wealth inside. He opened the door, walked in, and was immediately greeted by beauty. Some of the greatest paintings in the world adorned his walls, gifts from merchants who sought protection. He surrounded himself with beautiful things; maybe he thought to himself at times, to hide from the ugliness of what he was, the ugliness of the shell he had become. Most of his money he kept in an alternate plane, the key to which only he knew, as the mage who created it for him had a sudden ‘accident’ while working a simple spell and was now six feet deep in the cemetery. Walking to the back of his small home he mused to himself about the memory of that, the mage’s look of surprise as the spell backfired. Memories were the only thing that tethered him to this place, this last job and then he was gone. No more of this life, it was time to leave, time to go away and forget. He had made his fortune, solidified his legacy, now it was time to leave the Guild to another and find another home for himself.

He spoke the word that opened the gate, a shimmering portal appeared before him, and he stepped through. Recently he had begun moving things out of this little cubby, moving them to his new home, far from here. His trips had run longer and longer, and he had an idea of what would happen when he took this final trip, the guild would begin to hunt him. He grabbed the last thing, a golden urn that held the ashes of his wife, and stepped back through the gate. He glanced at the urn, it was perfect as she had been, and instantly he was transported back to the time he had felt the truest thing he could remember. The love was pure, neither had been rich, and neither had been anyone of importance, but they had loved each other fiercely. He doted on her, gave her all the things she wanted, and she had made this place bright and cheerful. He realized that when she died a year ago was when he started having the empty feeling when he started becoming sloppy in his work. He was still the best, but he had started making mistakes. Rumors began to stir through the town of who the leader of the guild was, and now the authorities had a decent idea who he was and more importantly, what he meant.

That was another reason for him leaving, the last reason. With her gone, his guild doing well, and the authorities after him there was only risk in remaining, no payoff. Some people said he was cold-hearted, a man who would just as soon kill you as look at you. This just simply wasn’t true, he didn’t kill for joy, he killed out of necessity, not that he was making excuses. His dagger had more than enough blood on it to doom him to hell, of that he was sure, but he was not a mass murderer. Simply a man who did what he could to survive and prosper, which was all he could do. He finally broke his gaze from the urn, and looked up. In front of him stood a young boy, no older than thirteen, he had apparently entered while the man was in thought, and was afraid to speak and interrupt the man. People often did this when he was in thought, his eyes turned dark and scared most people enough to leave him to his thoughts. His door was always open, no one was stupid enough to steal from him, and he often had visitors. Though not so many as he used to, not as many as when she was alive. But he knew this boy, the gangly and awkward child in front of him, he also knew the awkwardness was all a façade. He knew about the dagger in sheath in the boy’s right boot, and had personally seen how quickly it could enter a man’s body when needed.

Finally, inhaling deeply, the man spoke, “What is it?” His voice was deep, rough, and almost sounded like sandpaper being rubbed together but it was still powerful, and charismatic. The boy spoke, in a high pitch, “Welcome back. We wondered how long you would be gone this time, and there are certain things that need your attention.”

“Ashi, how long have you been under my care?”
“Since my father died, so four years.” Ashi, the boy, said.
“I have taught you everything you need to know, I leave you the guild leadership, I don’t want it anymore. I have one last thing to do, then I will be gone and it will be done by tonight. After that I am leaving this town, and everything in it behind me.”
“Where will you go?”
“Ha-ha, I am not a fool, Ashi, I know the retribution I will face for leaving the Guild, remember I created it. I wrote the rules long before you were born, to tell you where I plan to go would be suicide, so do what you must after I leave. Send all the Assassins after me if you like, but you and I both know they will never find me.”

The man sighed deeply, and took off his ring, the one that signified leadership of his guild. There was only one ring like this in the world, and the Guild took care that it should remain that way. He handed it to the Ashi, who quickly slipped it on his finger. The ring shrunk to accommodate his smaller finger, and it could only be removed if he chose to take it off. This made sure the leadership would only be passed on if he chose it to be so.

Ashi quickly said thank you or something to that effect, and ran out of the house. Leaving the man once more to his thoughts and the urn that he still held in his hand. He walked out of the house back down towards the shop. He carried the urn with him, and it had become dark in the time since he entered his home to now. He moved quickly, wanting to leave the town before the guild found out of his decision and shadowed him. He picked the lock, spoke the word to deactivate the wards, and drew his dagger. It was perfectly balanced, and he was told the hilt was made of some powerful creatures’ skull, either a dragon or a lich, not that it mattered any longer, he would leave it where it ended up. He moved quickly to the back, and found the merchant sitting there counting his money from the day. “So,” the merchant said without turning around, as he dropped the final coin into the pile, “You found out at last?”
The man’s eyes flared with anger as he spoke, “Yes. It wasn’t easy, I had to kill the Cleric to find out the truth, but I know now.”
“And what do you intend to do now, kill me?” The merchant stood as he spoke and turned to face the man.
“Yes, but that will come later. I simply wish you to answer a question first, why?”
“If it makes you feel better, it wasn’t supposed to be her.”
“So she died because you wished to kill me? I suppose you wanted to control the Guild, eh Aelis?”
“Yes,” Aelis said, “That was all it was about to tell you the truth. I could care less if you actually had to die, I suppose I could have just asked you to leave peacefully but your death seemed like the only way to make sure I would lead until my own.”
“I am sorry my old friend,” the man said with a true sincerity in his heart, “But you killed her, and now you know what comes.”
“Yes, I am sorry as well my friend whatever that means to you.”

The man walked out of the shop quickly, still holding the urn and headed back for the main road. The dagger was no longer with him, and he strode with a purpose he had not had in quite a while. It was time to find something new, but first he had to fulfill her wish, spread her ashes over the sea.