Kristoffer Pauly
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F-tier Assasin - Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2024-10-11 17:51:26 +0000 UTC-Previous chapter-
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Chapter 6
“Assignment,” Ashlan said, after sitting up in the bed he’d borrowed from the Guild.
< < Assignment > >
< < Ashlan Grey — Assassin (F-tier) > >
< < Proficiency > >
< < Novice I — 1/10 Proficiency > >
< < Skills > >
< < Lurk > >
< < Contracts > >
< < ——— > >
It wasn’t all a fever dream then. I did actually go up 1 Point.
He looked around, feeling like it was the first time taking in his surroundings, which it might well have been. After all, he’d passed out as soon as he touched the bed, as evident by the clothes still on his body.
The room was larger than his entire apartment in Northside. The bed alone was enough for three, if one were to sleep horizontally at the end, and yet it was meant for only a single person it seemed, given the rest of the furniture. There was a dresser for clothes, below which his sandals had been placed; a desk with a single leather chair next to the door and prepared with a crisp stack of papers, as well as an inkwell and pen; and a nightstand to the left of his soft feather-stuffed pillow, upon which was an oil lamp and a single linen pouch that seemed to the point of bursting with coins.
Quick as lightning, Ashlan snatched the pouch, hearing the chinking sound of its contents, before immediately pouring it out on the duvet his legs were still snuggled under for warmth.
He quickly began counting out the coins. They were all of the ten denomination and there was exactly fifty of them in total.
“I’m rich,” he muttered in awe. The next two weeks of rent for his Northside Apartment were already paid for, and if he could expect to at least make this much every week, if not more, then he would quickly be able to move to a better place.
Knock-knock!
A jolt went through him and he frantically shoved the coins back into the pouch, before stuffing it under his grimy linen shirt.
The door opened as Estrid the Maid came in.
“Good morning, Ashlan. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you.”
“The baths have been prepared, if you would like to wash up.”
Ashlan blinked, then immediately jumped out from under the covers.
“Take me there immediately!”
Estrid escorted him to the bathhouse, and, though they had apparently travelled the same route the night before to get from the Smith’s workshop to the room he borrowed, he couldn’t remember at all. The hallways between the various parts of the Guild were like tunnels with odd doorways and branching corridors here-and-there, as well as occasional handprints on the walls for those other entrances.
It isn’t like me to forget such things. I must’ve been really tired…
“What plans do you have today?” Estrid asked him, as they went down a right-going tunnel that led in the opposite direction of the lounge and kitchen.
“I’ll go back to my apartment. I need to see one of my friends. We’d agreed to meet last night, so she’s probably pissed about me standing her up.”
“Will you be staying there for tonight?”
Ashlan was caught off-guard by the question. “What do you mean? Don’t everyone go their separate ways, and only come here for special events and the Contract Slate?”
“It depends on the person. Do you not like your room?”
“My room? Are you saying that one is for me??”
“Of course. It is part of your Guild privileges. You passed the Intro test, so you are given a room and free food, along with the other services we have, such as the Chaplain for confessions and guidance, the Smith for new tools and weapons, and other amenities such as our Baths, Contract Slate, and Arboretum.”
Ashlan stopped in his tracks. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. Why would I lie?”
“Why is the System providing all of this?”
“It is not all thanks to the System, though it has granted the Guild its retainer for a Smith, Chaplain, and Maid. Most of these perks come from the decisions of some of the first Leaders the Assassins’ Guild had. The Contract Slate itself is older than I am, crafted by Horvath the legendary A-tier Magical Artificer and commissioned by one of the past Leaders.”
“But why all the rest? What is the benefit of having the Assassins live underground in hiding?”
“It is not by choice, Ashlan. The world is often unkind to your Profession, no matter how important it is to the well-being of all. Having a place where Assassins can feel safe was deemed a priority.”
He nodded. “I guess I can understand that. But I’ll still return to my old apartment. I have a lot of friends in Northside and I need the feel the sun on my face when I wake up, otherwise I’ll go mad.”
“You do not have to make a permanent decision,” she said, while giving him a pitying smile that he didn’t understand. “Your room will always be here when you need it.”
“Thank you.”
They rounded the end of a tunnel with a branching hallway that led to a place with running water, before coming to a shorter corridor with one doorway on either side, both with a privacy curtain covering what lay beyond.
“The left is for women; the right is for men. Within, there is a large communal bath, as well as soaps and small stalls for washing down. As you enter, there is a cubby with basket for your clothes, as well as clean replacements and a towel for drying off. Please make use of them. I will wash the clothes you leave there and have them brought to your room before you are done with your breakfast.”
“Estrid, you’re amazing.”
The Maid smiled. “Enjoy your bath.”
Ashlan almost ran through the doorway, but schooled his excitement into obedience. Last time he’d been in a bathhouse was back when he was seven. One of his mother’s clients had been so happy with her new dress that she’d invited them there as a sign of appreciation. From the way she still brought up the story, it was clearly one of his mother’s proudest moments as a Seamster.
The dark wooden floor of the corridor transformed into smooth white tiles with blue ink drawn on them to resemble wet footprints, and the stone walls were covered with smaller tiles upon which were drawn a scenery of the farmlands beyond the walls of Eventide.
Steam wafted from further in and the humidity rose significantly. He found the cubby that Estrid had described, and there were four baskets, with only two not in use. One of the people within was definitely Vagan, as his fancy clothes were unmistakable in the basket, while the other one was just missing its towel, but had no clothes inside to show who was using it.
Ashlan easily picked out the one meant for him, though he couldn’t really say how he knew it was his. He pulled off his sleeveless linen shirt, cheap leather belt, overlarge linen shorts, and lastly his threadbare underwear. He was elated to see that the clothes in the basket included a new pair, as well as some comfy-looking socks. The other two pieces were a short-sleeved light-grey shirt and black shorts.
There’s no way I can wear that to Northside… he thought to himself.
If Frelly sees me in that, I won’t ever hear the end of it.
He grabbed the towel and shoved it under his arm, then followed the blue footsteps on the floor around the corner and came face-to-face with Vagan who sat down by the end of the room. The man was submerged up to his chin in a large square tub with enough space for twenty people if everyone rubbed shoulders.
There was no one else besides the Guild Leader though.
“Good morning, Ashlan.”
“Morning, V.”
Vagan’s right eye twitched slightly at the nickname, but he didn’t challenge it.
Hmm, guess he doesn’t actually appreciate that sort of comradery. Even after his talk yesterday.
“Mister V,” he corrected himself and the Leader laughed in response.
“Is it too much to just say my name?”
“You’re right, V doesn’t suit you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll come up with something else,” Ashlan promised, then marched right up to the end of the large tub.
“What are you doing?” Vagan asked.
“Am I not allowed to get in while you’re using it?”
“You have to wash yourself down first,” he said, pointing to three low cubicles separated with metre-tall walls and each having a dark wooden stool to sit on.
“Isn’t the point of a bath that it makes you clean?” Ashlan replied.
“We are sharing the tub, so it is impolite.”
“I see.”
He walked over and sat down on the stool of the nearest cubicle. There was a bucket below a spout fixed into the wall. Next to the spout was a handprint. Without the need to second-guess, he placed his hand on the symbol. After a second, steaming water came out of the spout and fell down into the bucket.
“Woah.”
“Pretty neat, right?” asked Vagan. He’d sat up slightly so he could watch Ashlan.
“Whatever Artefact is powering this must be ridiculously-expensive.”
“It is,” said the Leader with the sort of confidence that hinted that he knew exactly how much it was worth.
Perks of being the Leader, I suppose.
After the bucket was full, Ashlan removed his hand from the symbol and started making use of the nearby brush and scrubbing sponge to get rid of all the filth on his skin and in his hair.
“Do not neglect the soap,” Vagan told him.
This guy really cares about cleanliness. But, then again, this is my first wash in over a week, and I’m normally not this thorough.
After he was finally done and his skin was scrubbed to the colour of salmon pink, he was given the go-ahead by Vagan and finally climbed down into the tub, sinking all the way down until just his eyes were above the water.
I could stay in here all day.
After lifting himself up so that his head was above water, he said, “I thought someone else was in here with you. I saw that two of the baskets were missing towels.”
Vagan frowned. “Harmon, seriously?”
The scarecrow just appeared at the opposite end from the Leader, also submerged to his chin, with his grey hair covering his face like an ominous veil.
“Is it a crime to wish to bathe undisturbed?” he whispered.
“It’s a little creepy that he didn’t know you were here,” Ashlan offered.
“I guess.”
“I thought you had already left,” Vagan said.
“Estrid is making waffles today. I have delayed my plans until then.”
The Leader sighed. “I will never figure out what makes you tick.”
“What plans?” Ashlan asked curiously.
Vagan answered before Harmon could. “Every System Day, he stocks up on Private Contracts and blazes through them all in a day.”
“It is easier to eliminate targets when they are relaxed and believe themselves safe.” Harmon’s tone didn’t manage to be as cold and terrifying as Anisette’s, but his words were still deeply-unsettling to Ashlan.
I guess most people would feel at ease on System Day, especially if they thought there was a bounty on their heads.
“Privates can be submitted by anyone, right?”
“No, Assassin Contracts do not work that way,” Vagan replied. “And I know why you ask, but let me clarify something. The System vets the Contracts that we are sent. We are not given frivolous tasks to murder the innocent, contrary to popular belief.”
“It wouldn’t allow us to kill just anyone, as that can destabilise its carefully laid plans,” Harmon added. “Many of the Privates I have accepted for today are for legitimate targets, such as runaway criminals, monsters beyond the walls of Eventide, and corrupt or evil citizens.”
“I was worried Private Contracts would be in the morally-grey zone,” he replied in relief.
“Unless it is an emergency, the System never gives us more than one Contract simultaneously. It respects that we need time to lay a plan and accordingly assigns us the most important target that it believes us individually-capable of handling.”
“Privates are a way for the System to handle the less-important targets, although it does have to rely on other people submitting the Contracts.”
“Does that kind of setup actually work?” Ashlan asked. “Feels like a lot of bad people would slip through the cracks.”
“It is not without its flaws,” Harmon admitted.
Vagan got up, running a hand through his hair, while the hot water cascaded off him. “Are you two going to stay?”
“I’m staying,” Ashlan replied, not feeling ready to return to the ‘real world’ yet.
Harmon also remained in the large tub.
As Vagan towelled off and went to retrieve his clothes, Ashlan leaned back and stretched out fully, making sure to absorb every last bit of heat he could.
The scarecrow was just sitting there, not really seeming to show much care about anything.
He’s probably just bad at expressing his emotions, but if he is driven by something like the desire for waffles, then I know we can get along.
“Harmon, I wanted to ask: why’d you help me in the Intro Contract?”
“We are not allowed to interfere with other Assassins’ Contracts. What I did was not helping. I was heading in the same direction as you, by means which allowed you to find an opening in Irongate’s defences, but I didn’t go out of my way to help you, thus the System does not deem it as assistance. You would have failed if I aided you, after all.”
“It didn’t seem to care about me using my friends as a distraction.”
“That is different. The System allows us to utilise our connections for our Contracts, as these can be tools in someone’s toolset. Maggie Margot often utilises her deep pockets to bypass security checkpoints, and utilising another person as a distraction is no different.”
“Gotcha. But still, you said you were following me until then, and you even allowed me to see you.”
“That you could see me has a simple explanation: we both have the same Skill.”
“You have Lurk as well??”
“It’s what allows me to go unnoticed.”
“I couldn’t see you in the Guild when I entered nor today when I came in here.”
“You were not using the Skill.”
“Oh, right…”
So, the S-tier version of Lurk literally allows him to become invisible, regardless of light or shadow. But…
“I’ve never heard of Skills interacting like that.”
“I believe it is an unintended side-effect of what happens to our bodies when the Skill is activated. Lurk does not rewrite reality to hide us from sight, rather, it partially relocates us to the In-Between.”
“In-Between? What’s that? Some separate layer of existence?”
“Yes.”
Ashlan blinked in surprise.
“Wait, does that mean that Trackers and other Professions with Spotting abilities are able to peer into this place?”
“If they are powerful enough, yes.”
“Is this ‘In-Between’ layer also how you were able to go through walls?”
“You noticed that? You really are observant.”
“It was obvious. You couldn’t have gone through the entrance without alerting Aghi and the people inside the Guild. Or wait, could you?”
“I do have a Skill that allows me to silence an area and limit the noise produced within, but it would not obscure the movements, so you are correct. My Phase Through skill briefly transports me to a layer of the In-Between where solid objects have gaps in them. It’s a very handy Skill.”
“I’ll say.”
Harmon sat up and swept his long wet hair back behind his ears so that his face was visible. “I took an interest in you when I saw you at the Assignment Idol. You had the same reaction as me. You saw the eye move, didn’t you?”
“That wasn’t normal??”
“No.”
“I was wondering why no one ever told me about that! I thought for sure it was one of those things where everyone manages to keep it a secret, because it’s fun to watch the new guy squirm.”
“I used to think it was something all S-tiers saw, but realised that was incorrect. Then I thought maybe it was an Assassin thing. That was also incorrect.”
“So, what’s the reason for someone seeing the eye move?”
He shrugged. “No idea.”
I wonder if it’s a sign that the System takes a special interest in us? Or maybe that we have some unique trait?
“I’ve been wondering why it would show it to an F-tier,” he muttered, clearly having given it a lot of thought. “So, I followed you to see how you’d handle your Intro.”
“And?”
“Still no idea.”
“It’s not because we both have Lurk?”
“No. My old Guild Leader in Witchfell started with the same Skill, and he didn’t see the eye move either.”
“Maybe it’s random, just like the Assignments?”
“They’re not random.”
“They’re as close to random as you can get. I’ve been watching them every Freya’s Day since I was a kid, so I’m willing to bet on it.”
“Let us put it to the test next week then.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Yes.”
Harmon suddenly sniffed the air, then he shot upright.
“It’s time for waffles.”
Ashlan felt like he might burst into tears as he was digging into the crunchy-but-soft round waffle on his plate. He had been ordered by Vagan to use a fork, but his hands and face were still covered in syrup from his initial attempt to eat them with his fingers.
“Were you raised by animals??” Vagan asked, clearly frustrated at how Ashlan was stabbing his fork into the waffles and gulping them down in a single bite.
“Now, now, Vagan, be kind to the boy,” Estrid cooed.
We can’t all have been raised in White Coast, he thought but did not say. After all, one of the tenets of the Guild was to respect his seniors.
“Why are you only scolding Ash!?” Thea protested, her face and hands also covered in syrup, while she pointed to Harmon, whose dessert was still under construction.
He’d added a layer of strawberry jam to the bottom-most waffle, then a layer of the strange-but-sweet foam that Estrid called ‘whipped cream’, then another waffle with blackberry jam on both sides, and more foam on top. As we all turned to look at him, he shrunk into himself and slinked off to a secluded corner with his plate. We continued to watch as he grabbed a handful of small chocolate pieces and the glass jug of syrup, before sprinkling both all over his tower. It looked less like a breakfast dessert and more like an art project.
“You’re all animals,” Vagan said in disgust, while still only on his first waffle, which he was dissecting with a knife and eating piece by tiny piece using a fork.
“How are you even planning on eating that?” Thea asked Harmon.
The S-tier flicked his wrist and a dagger appeared in his right hand.
“Harmon!” Estrid said. “No weapons in the living room!”
Before she could confiscate his dagger, he quickly used it to slice apart his tower and stuff each piece into his mouth without the whole thing falling apart. It was like watching a street Performer, as the waffles and whipped cream just vanished from one moment to the next.
When the Maid stopped in front of his corner table, he handed her the dagger, which was completely spotless.
Thea’s eyes were locked in on the weapon and it was clearly extremely expensive, given the way she was salivating.
Harmon repeated his tower, but added another waffle to make it even higher, but this time he used a simple butter knife to repeat his performance, still without spilling a single piece.
After the most indulgent breakfast Ashlan had ever had, he retrieved his newly-washed clothes and was ready to return home to Northside. Before he could ask someone to show him which way to take, Thea approached him with an oily cloth wrapped around something.
“Here,” she said. “I made this for you.”
Ashlan took it from her hands, the heady smell of the oil filling his nose. As he unwrapped it, a single spearhead-looking weapon lay within.
“What is it?”
“You can’t tell?” Thea asked, almost sounding offended.
“I don’t know a lot about weapons,” he replied.
“You can use it as a normal dagger by holding the handle.”
He picked it up as she described and felt how there was a bit of rough texture on the hollow pipe-like end. It fit perfectly in his grip and the weight was balanced well. There were two holes on either side of the handle as well and, before he could ask, Thea explained:
“If you have a pole or a simple stick, you can easily insert it in the hollow opening to make a spear with just a single nail to hold it together. You can also tie a small rope or string to the ring inside the handle to make a tool to assist with climbing. And lastly, it’s been weighed such that it can be thrown like a dart.”
“That’s very versatile,” he commented, flipping it around to look inside the hollow part of the handle and seeing a little ring buried within. It would be finnicky to tie something to it, but not impossible.
“Harmon said that you could use something with a lot of utility, so I came up with this.”
I don’t even know anything about fighting with a knife, but I’m meant to use this to kill my targets?
Ashlan couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The Spearhead Dagger was the most blatant symbol of the fact that he was going to be heading down a path steeped in blood. Even with Vagan and Harmon’s assurances, the fact that he had to become a killer to thrive was still hard to swallow.
“Thank you, Thea,” he said, folding the cloth back over the weapon.
He didn’t know where to put it, until Estrid came up with a small bag and accompanying belt.
“You can put your things in here,” she told him.
Ashlan took the bag and looked it over, then inspected the belt. The quality was pretty high, but it was made to not look as expensive as it was.
Dad will steal this if I ever show it to him.
“This must’ve been pricy,” he muttered.
“Do not worry about that,” the Maid replied. “I also took the liberty of procuring you a new belt. Your old one is…”
“Crap?” he added helpfully.
“Your words, not mine,” she said with a glint in her eyes.
“Thank you, Estrid. For the waffles and dinner as well. And the hospitality.”
“Are you not coming back?” Thea asked, concerned.
“I’ll be back,” he promised. “Don’t know when though.”
He stuffed the Spearhead Dagger into the bag, as well as his reward money, before replacing his old belt with the new and sliding it through the straps of the bag.
“You need better footwear,” Vagan commented as he came over.
“Maybe I’ll buy some later,” Ashlan replied, well-knowing he wouldn’t be spending his money on that. Though his sandals were definitely in need of an upgrade.
“Is Harmon still here?” he asked.
“He already left,” said Vagan.
Ashlan tried not to let his disappointment show, but he’d wanted the S-tier to show him how to use the special exits from the Guild.
“I can take you to Northside,” Vagan said.
“You’d do that?”
“Today is my day off. Let me get my boots and we can go.”
Vagan took Ashlan to the foyer where he’d initially entered, but instead of going through the door that’d lead up to the Chaplain’s chapel, he placed his hand on the symbol in the hallway just beyond where they kept the slippers, shoes, and coats.
The wall opened to reveal a hallway that went straight for several metres, before opening up into some large dark chamber. Ashlan followed Vagan into the darkness, feeling the comforting feeling of Lurk activating, but totally unable to see. Especially when the door behind them shut and killed all the light.
“Do you have Darksight?”
“No.”
“Me neither,” Vagan replied. “The rest all do, making them a headache to keep up with down here.”
He pulled something from his fancy blue coat and suddenly a spark ignited in his hand, setting fire to a torch that’d been conveniently left attached to the wall of the dark hallway. He pulled the torch out of its holder, before lighting another nearby and giving it to Ashlan.
“Is that an Artefact?” he asked, as he saw the little metal device Vagan had used to create fire.
“No, it is just a little thing Thea made. You should have her make you one as well. I think she charges about four-hundred for it.”
“Four-hundred!?”
“Cheap, is it not? You cannot buy them anywhere else for that price.”
Wait, that’s cheap!?
“Come on.”
They moved out of the hallway and into the large chamber. As they walked, their footsteps echoed through the darkness. Because of the torch he was holding, Ashlan was unable to activate his Skill, but since he had no means to see in the dark, he was reluctant to give up his light.
“What is this place?” he asked, as his light caught on the side of a massive pillar that seemed to stretch up into the distant ceiling above.
“It has many different names. Some call it the Undercity or the Old City, but both of those names are misleading. This is not a city. It is just a vast interconnected sewer and water storage system. Most do not know it exists, as it lies too deep for anyone to discover on accident. For some reason, the System has kept this place intact, even though it is no longer in use.”
“And this can take me to Northside?”
“It can take you anywhere in the city, Ashlan.”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere,” he repeated with a grin in his voice.
I feel as if this alone explains why Assassins have the ability to appear and disappear anywhere within Eventide.
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Comments
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his weapon reminds of the Shinobi Spear tool fool from sekiro, maybe he add a part that he can fill with poison or any liquid he wants
