castleBanx
patreon
Chapter 69: NOBLE FILTH
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 14:05:21 +0000 UTCThe sting of the open hand that hammered across his face forced the food from his mouth. Risens mourned as the morsel skipped across the dirty floor. He regretted the loss of the immediately. He’d never in his eleven years enjoyed the taste of food so fine.
“I’ll ask you again, how many bites of meat did I take?” Vagon growled. His hand retracted priming for its next strike.
“Three,” Risens forced the confident tone into his voice. He pushed down on the polished wood of the surface to keep his hands pressed flat on the table.
“How many sips of wine did I take?”
“Two.” This time, he was sure of the answer. One when the meal was first served, the second only moments earlier.
“Wrong.”
He easily blocked the hand that swatted at his face. It was far too easy, far too predictable and telegraphed. He wanted to curse as he missed the true intent of the punishment.
Vagon swiped the plate of food from where it steamed before him. With a snarl, he tossed it across the room, shattering the porcelain and spoiling the food.
“You were too entranced by the food, you missed two. You were distracted enough that I could have poisoned your water, or slit your throat if not bothered by the mess,” he cursed. “You are an assassin. You eat, you do not dine. You eat to exist, not to enjoy the meal.”
Risens had a hard time pulling his longing gaze from the food splattered across the floor, now food for the rats.
“As for tonight, you will go hungry.”
Risens waited until after darkness shrouded Windwake in its embrace before he stalked from the safety of Tawny’s clinic. The evening hours had passed with a quickness that was entirely unexpected and disturbingly unwelcome.
Marlaine had woken shortly after he and Tawny had returned from he lab and garden hidden cleverly below the floorboard. He’d studied the design, testing the pressure and even the sound of his footfalls on the false panel, surprised to find it incredibly well engineered.
He’d had politely attempted to refuse the meal that was offered and set on the small table within the meager confines of her home beyond the shop. The aromas proved far more enticing than the even the combined lures of their brands. What followed was an unexpected experience. It wasn’t the fear of treachery or poisoning that had fueled his initial rejection, but the bizarre familiarity of the event and his company.
He lost interest counting bites of food and tracking sips of wine, focusing on the utterly normal experience. Combined with the enticing flavors of the well prepared meal, roast meat, heavily drenched with thin sauce over a steaming bed of vegetables. Risens had forgone the protection of the mask throughout, using the ever-present countdown to judge the approaching cover of darkness.
Tawny had seen him out after bidding farewell to Marlaine. She had leaned in close whispering in his ear as he made to leave. He expected it would be another entreaty. Another plea to save a life.
“Thank you for the company, dear Raven.”
The words had been far more shocking. Hushed and melodic the tone of her voice echoed in his ear, momentarily overpowering the low whistling of the wind. Risens was perched in the deep shadows of a chimney, hidden among the peaks of one of the many angular roofs and the Learners Quarter. With a snarl and clenched fists he worked the distraction from his mind, focusing on the task at hand.
Beyond the attempt on his life the evening had been formative and surprisingly enjoyable. Now he had business to attend to. A task that required stealth and finesse beyond aggression and death. At least two groups sought his demise, and any excess noise from killing would attract more unnecessary attention.
The Cirque of Academia was the leaning hub of Windwake, possibly the entirety of Halthome, yet at the present it was nearly deserted. With the volume of leaners that surrounded the central square, it would have stood to reason that some would be out at this hour but beyond the guards shifting ominously before Excelsior’ ornate gate the area was deserted.
Though taking up less of a geographical footprint than the other academies that adjoined the square, Excelsior, easily made up for its size with the outsized attitudes of its inhabitants. It was the proving ground for the noble youths of Halthome. Judging by the product that sauntered out of its gates with their heads held high, its schooling made exclusively to boost they overly inflated egos.
In a sense, like Risens’s own tutelage it was designed as a means of holding power over others. He was instructed to kill with a blade, bow and his hands, while here they murdered with the stroke of a pen. He stalked through the shadows, they openly committed their crimes in the broad daylight with impunity. Oftentimes, their words were law. They stole from those without means, either knowledge or finances to defend themselves and did so with a genuine grin of satisfaction.
His blades were their judgement. For a long, disturbing moment, he put serious consideration into seeing how much mayhem he could cause before an alarm was raised. There were hundreds of supposed learners, if they could be called that inhabiting the halls of Excelsior with easily an equal contingent of their personal guards and servants. He would likely be doing Windwake and the rest of Halthome a favor, though he wrote off the idea quickly.
Mother Raven had sent him to collect an item, not to kill.
His speculative gaze rolled over the looming fence that surrounded the entire complex. At over five meters high, the polished stone was exceedingly difficult to climb, armed with traps and heavily patrolled at all hours of the day and night.
The guards a who manned the posts resided in two large buildings, one at either corner of the wall facing the square, separated by the Nobles Gate. Postings here were touted as one of the highest honors a soldier could receive. Many of the guards spoke of it in drastically different terms. It was viewed as sentence not a privilege. The danger was all too real, and all too fickle. A single errant word or look could lead to ones untimely demise.
The bulk of the interior was dominated by a massive, illustrious building. Each of the terraced levels featured lush green gardens an water feature, alive with vibrant pops of color from the flowers that bloomed. Privilege, was strong enough to stave off the effects of the drought as the plants were still nourished regardless the cost. The thought turned his stomach.
How many struggled to exist? How many crops withered and died due to the lack of water? Here was enough to irrigate fields of crops yet it was restricted so that the pompous children could lounge in the pristine comforts of the perfectly manicured scattered gardens. Laughter hanging in the air from a group that reveled in one of the scattered oases among the building only irritated him further. His hands squeezed around the feathered handles of the talons.
They were in full agreement with the mounting call for mayhem.
“Another time.” He whispered.
Their mocking curses of his weakness lingered in his ears as he removed his hands from the weapons.
The rear third of the enclosed complex seemed to have been created purely for the entertainment of the nobility who resided among the halls. It was a vast green space with a small stream that snaked through its center, forming a pool in one corner. A small grove of tall trees peeked over the top of the wall sprouting from the fertile soil by the water’s edge. A small amphitheater sat quietly in the opposite corner, its entertainers having been granted a reprieve from their performances. A large tent had been erected in the center of the lush lawn, covering dozens of tables and chairs underneath. There were several salles near the rear of the sprawling building as the noble youth were encouraged to learn the blade, while he doubted many took the opportunity to truly learn the deadly art. They would much rather let others do the killing for them. Like the King Lathrenon, it was their orders that would sentence people to death while they lounged in their luxurious estates.
That was until the dramatic execution of Lady Myrenas.
Risens tried to shake the memory of the brutal scene from his mind to no avail.
He distracted his mind by watching the roving patrols as they moved across the pinnacle of the looming walls. From his studies, he knew that the traps spread across the exterior of the barrier were generally noisy and typically deadly. Those scattered through the interior grounds were more cautious and only disoriented as the fear of causing serious harm to one of the noble youths, even if it was their own fault was not worth the risk.
He groaned as the obvious avenue of his entrance became clear. He’d hoped to avoid it, finding an easy access over the wall, however, there seemed to be little choice in the matter. He would be resigned to the stench of the sewers once more. Nobility, it seemed had no influence on the odor.
Risens slid silently down the drainpipe into the darkness of the alley below. Working around the back of the buildings, he skirted the edge of the polished, guarded wall. The hour wasn’t exceedingly late yet there were none about in the narrow avenues that he darted across. Any he would have met lurking among the refuse in the alleys would have been up to no good. Several building still had lights burning low though there was nothing to either see or hear through the gaps in the shutters.
His nose alerted him to the proximity of the sewer before his ears picked up the sluggish gurgle of the viscous water that oozed from the wide pipe. Most of the various districts of Windwake had been constructed with forethought to the sewers keeping the filth of the city creeping sluggishly along beneath the streets. One of the expansive outlets exited into a wide trough that snaked out of the district before washing its filth into the shallows of the Sea Solace. The frequent rains that had been a staple of life within the city until the drought began had served to dilute the substance with relatively fresh water. Now it was nothing but sewage that slipped slowly through the channel. Covered in the pervasive stench of the fish market, it merely added another layer to the depth of stench that hung in the air.
Here in the Learners Quarter, all of the structures near the exit of the sewer were strategically built to face away from the wide trough. Not surprisingly, none had any desire to gaze upon the putrid sight, nor risk leaving any rear facing windows open in fear the the winds might change a blow the aromas into their houses of places of business.
Risens swung swung his feet over the edge of the narrow railing that prevented the careless from unwittingly toppling into the fetid stream. He’d used the sewers to sneak through the city on countless occasions. His purposes were discrete and he was thankful for the narrow walkway built along the edge of each for the workers who were forced to maintain the ducts. He could think of no job more foul.
There was no gate blocking any foolish enough from entering stone drain, though further in he knew he’d find more obstacles to hinder his progress. In a careful crouch, the slunk along the slick pathway, deftly leaping over the scattered openings that trickled their waste into the main channel. He had enjoyed the natural protections of the Shadows Shroud on several occasions.
With how often he found himself slinking through the sewers, he wondered if the mask could be augmented to block the awful stench.
Comments
CJ Aaron
Thank you!
Esther Barra
Tftc
