III
"Who are you? Why are you doing this?!" the man wailed, horror rasping his quaking voice.
At James' feet, the man dragged his terrified body along the floor, the rough stone banging and scratching his broken legs. Such desperation and fear.
It did nothing to excite him.
"Why?" James echoed.
The question was funny, for they were in the dark damp depths of this man's dungeon; a space where petty thieves and trespassers were kept.
Where such people would normally be reported to the knights of this territory's king, instead they laid dead; their tortured bodies fermenting and oozing an acrid stench.
The answer was an obvious one.
This particular job had been a tricky one, solely for the fact this man was the son of a noble.
His client had asked him to make this assassination painful, and that would normally be a lot more difficult because of the noise.
However, the guards must have become used to hearing screams from under the house, knowing what their young master was getting up to, none would dare check nor interrupt.
James wondered how long it would take for them to find his body.
"The 'why' doesn't matter."
James had become tired of listing sins to scum a long time ago. They always knew why and they wouldn't feel guilt either way, telling them the reason never led to sincere remorse. He thought it was more tortuous to let them die without hearing the confirmation.
He played with the body for a bit, knocking him around, breaking a few bones, and finally surrendering to boredom after accidentally knocking the guy out.
James sighed.
"Alright, your turn, Eris."
James stabbed the limp body in the heart and watched as Eris' blade ate away at the flesh around her blade, charring and sucking the life force from the man, leaving solid black ash in its place.
He took her out before she ate too much of it.
"I'll give you a proper meal later," he promised, "the client wants this one thrown where the other bodies get left."
So, he dragged the body through one of the cells, which already had three rotting corpses inside, and dumped the young master on top of them. Just as he was asked to do.
It was repulsive.
As always, the same thoughts passed through his mind.
How many more times could he do this?
The escape wasn't a difficult one, the guards hadn't even realised what'd happened.
It was a boring getaway to match the boring job.
The only challenge in this case was the location of the estate.
The rich and noble kept their mansions near, but away, from major cities.
This one had broad mountains bodied in its path under a blanket of sinister forest. James would have to return to the city by foot, quickly tie up loose ends, and then flee for his next adventure.
Those Ankaid guards had got him too spooked to overstay his welcome.
As he hiked the rocky dirt path upward, he turned to see the lights of the estate retreat behind him. He didn't feel a need to rush, it looked peaceful in the distance; no one had yet found the body.
The air thinned as he steadily breathed it in, his body fit enough to hike for so long without needing a break. Night had already fallen and it had moistened and chilled the wind. He listened to the familiar rustle of shivering trees, that damp green smell wafting with it. It was peaceful.
It wasn't until he got over the other side of the mountain that he let himself light a fire, knowing it would shine like a beacon in the night.
He set up next to a stream, on a small patch of grass where you could view the sky, circled by black silhouettes of branches.
He lay there, watching glowing embers float fleetingly from the fire and reach to join the stars.
James was hypnotised by it, wondering if any of them would ever be able to reach out far enough to touch the sky and join the stars. It was a thought he had a lot as a child, one he had even voiced once. But, like other thoughts he'd had, he always got a disappointing answer.
The stars aren't for someone who lives in the dirt like you.
He supposed they were right.
James woke up in a jump.
The warm dark orange glow was replaced with the cold blue fog, all comfort snatched away from him.
He quickly scanned his surroundings, it was light, but the morning was too early for him to have woken up naturally.
Cold hit the back of his neck and he shivered, water had fallen from a branch above, he'd found what had woken him up.
He relaxed and sat up. There was no sound of man anywhere.
His clothes were soaked through, moisture had captured him in the night. The grass around him was peppered delicately under a coat of dew and a thin layer of fog on the ground guarded it.
There was a bit of darkness still, but there was no point staying for longer. The guards would surely have noticed that their young master was missing by now. It would also be obvious who the killer was; Eris' bite was unique.
"You're all wet too." James complained on Eris' behalf, stroking her rags.
Eris was a sword and didn't care, but James would still pout for her even if she didn't feel it. Her rags broke away in clumps as he tested them, having disintegrated after a long and abusive existence.
"We'll get you new ones."
He fumbled through his bag, to see if he had anything he could use temporarily, but unfortunately not.
He instead picked up a small clay vial, and rubbed a thumb against it, hesitating.
He took one last long look at the green of the leaves, the brown of the wood, and the blue of the sky; searing those colours into his mind; and then poured some of the watery mixture into his eyes.
The burning was normal, but painful, he kept his eyes clamped shut so the mixture would do its job.
When he eventually opened them again, blinking the tears away, he looked once again at the colours around him, and felt grief.
One day he would open his eyes and there would be no colour left to look at.
For survival, despite everything.
Ignoring the cold aches from sleeping on wet dirt, James picked up his bag and headed off down the mountain, back to the city. It was a shame he couldn't stay in this place longer and watch the people live, but it was time to go.
Eventually, he would always have to leave.
"Here's the payment."
James didn't bother to pretend he wasn't suspicious of the man opposite him.
He was a large man, scars decorating his bulging biceps and broad shoulders that strained against his shirt.
You could see every detail of his chest through the material.
James realised he wasn't looking like a straight man would, but the man wasn't his type anyway.
He wasn't even worth James remembering his name.
He didn't have to worry about the man looking back at him, his hood was far too big and his hair covered his eyes. It would just look like a dark undefined face to the man opposite.
"I'm going to count it." James said, more as a warning than anything else.
The man didn't seem worried though.
He counted every single piece, looking for any particularly dull looking coins; a task that was becoming more challenging as the world became greyer around him.
They were all there.
"Good." James said, happy he didn't have to kill a second person.
He put a single gold piece on the table in front of him. "Here, because I appreciate honesty."
The man took it. "Thanks."
James knew he'd probably just spend it on booze or prostitutes anyway, all his middlemen were those kinds of people. He would never pick innocent people to do a job as dangerous as this. This man will probably only live another few months.
"The client wanted me to express gratitude on her behalf," the man informed him, "she says her daughter can now rest in peace."
James nodded like he cared. "Good."
"I've got another client for you if you're interested."
James entertained the thought briefly, but he had already decided what he was going to do.
"No thanks," he said, "I'm moving on."
The man seemed startled. "Already?"
He was probably worried his funds were going to dry up before he got to try every brothel in the city, James thought wryly.
James made a move to stand up, taking the bag of money with him. "Yep, that's all."
"This client, they were offering a lot of money, Jay."
James didn't feel tempted in the slightest.
"They can get someone else to do it."
He promptly strutted out the door, hearing the man splutter behind him.
Navigating the corridors of the inn, he left through the side exit instead of through the bar, preferring a bit of peace and quiet. The day was still young. He'd just have to bank his change and then he can travel onwards; this time to a smaller, less prolific, town. He would lay low for a bit.
There, out of the corner of his eye, the two Ankaid knights.
James ducked behind a building, their knights were walking past the alley he was in, down the main street.
He heard the bell of the inn once they were out of sight, assuming they walked inside the main entrance of the building he had just left.
Shit, shit, shit.
It was too coincidental, why were they here?
James considered the middleman he'd left inside. He had no trust for the guy, he was just a random petty criminal off the street. If the knights weren't here out of mere coincidence, then maybe he would have to kill a second man today.
He wouldn't touch the knights, that would bring way too much attention to him, but the man would have to go.
Every instinct was screaming for James to go, flee, but he couldn't let those knights get any information about him. It wasn't impossible for the middleman to have recognised his youth, if he told the knights he wouldn't be as safe; everyone in the kingdom believed he was at least forty.
Even if it was from a place of paranoia, James climbed the next building over, camping out on the roof with direct view into the window his middleman resided in.
A few tense moments passed by, James waited with a held breath. Eris seemed nervous as well, which made James nervous. Eris never got nervous.
Then, a room a few windows down had a shout of commotion.
Fuck.
James was right to be paranoid.
He fumbled for his knife, strapped to his leg. Before he had the chance, the second knight appeared in the window, restraining his middleman to the ground, shouting for his partner.
Fuck. Fuck.
He'd lost his chance.
If he threw the knife now, it would be obvious he was there, they'd come after him. He tried to calm himself, it might have nothing to do with him, maybe his middleman committed a crime in Ankaid territory and they were simply collecting him.
Whatever the case, he couldn't act now - not unless he wanted to kill the knights too.
He didn't dare get closer to listen either, all he could do now was run and hope this wasn't about him.
So, he made a dash for it, and hurriedly climbed down the building he was on.
He did what he always did, run away.