I do not own Frozen or any of its characters or anything related to Disney. But I do own Stillclaw and any other OCs except for Jyoti, who belongs to Jetstream Artorias and who gave me permission to use Jyoti (but will not appear in this particular chapter).
In this story, I will sometimes have the characters speak a foreign language and will put the english translation on the next line in italics. In this chapter they are speaking Swedish. Don't worry – I will in general have the main characters speak English.
1836
He pushed the drink over to the visitor and studied the visitor carefully, gauging him. The visitor's head didn't even move. He couldn't tell if he had even glanced at the drink as his face was completely shrouded in darkness by the dark grey cowl he had covering his head.
Not even the lantern hanging above managed to cast any light on the visitor's face.
It was then that he remembered how the visitor had very deliberately chosen that spot.
Now he knew the reason why.
He's a cautious man, he thought to himself, leaning back into his chair as he formed a steeple in the air with his fingers and rested it against his lips.
''Väl?'' he prompted the visitor, nodding slightly towards the offered drink. ''är du säkert törstig?''
Well? Surely you're thirsty?
Suddenly, one of the shutters blew up and wind and rain screeched as it entered the room. The lantern hanging on a hook in the ceiling started swinging around. He sprang to his feet and shut the shutters, placing a board infront to keep it shut and locked. He turned around and saw that the visitor's cowl was now facing towards him, indicating that the visitor had turned it's head. The sight of the cowl facing him with nothing but seeming darkness within made his skin curl.
The man then pushed his chair back and stood up.
He swallowed slightly as the visitor towered over him.
''Det kommer bli klart,'' the visitor replied and simply turned around and exited the room without even a backwards glance.
It will be done.
Once the door shut behind the visitor, he immediately turned and went to a door behind his seat. Grabbing the handle, he tried to turn it, but his hands were shaking so much that he lost his grip. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he gripped the handle with both hands and yanked it open, not giving himself a chance to lose his grip a second time.
The two men behind it jumped up in surprise. One had an eye patch and the two ends of a scar stuck out both ends of the eye patch. The other had four fingers on each hand, having stumps where his fifth fingers used to be.
''Följ honom,'' was all he said. ''Se till att han gör jobbet. Bli av med honom.''
Follow him. Make sure he does the job. Then get rid of him.
He then shut the door and sat back down in his chair, trembling. What kind of mercenary did my men bring to my doorstep? The visitor was intimidating; but that was a good sign – meant that he was capable of getting the job done.
But also meant that he'd be hard to keep in line.
The visitor brushed past the two men standing by the front door and tried to turn the handle.
Locked.
Without bothering to look at them, he merely held out his hand to the nearest person. "Nycklar," was all he said.
Keys.
He felt the cool metal of the ring of keys being placed in his hand. Judging by how much jingling the keys were making, the man was shaking.
He didn't pay too much attention to that and unlocked the ornate oak door and pushed it open. Wind and rain slapped his face and there was a clap of thunder. Good, he thought. It'll make my job so much easier.
He strode out the building, throwing the keys back without a glance and went down the marble front steps. Weaving his way through the trimmed hedges decorating the front yard, the visitor strode towards the gates and pushed them open. Exiting the property, he shut the gates and crossed the street.
Hearing the clop-clop of horses coming closer, he looked over his shoulder and saw a silhouette of a person huddled over in a buckboard.
And that person was alone.
He pulled his cloak closer to his body and stooped forward, making sure the tattered edges of his cloak were visible as he stumbled forward onto the road. His breathing became hoarse and heavy as his feet shot out from underneath him and he fell face first into the muddy road.
He heard a 'woah!' and soon heard a "Herr! Herr!" as someone came running towards him.
Sir! Sir!
He rolled onto his back, clutching his stomach as he groaned. The person who had called out to him knelt down beside him, and he recognized him as the one on the buckboard. Just as I hoped. "Herr, är du okej?"
Sir, are you alright?
He pushed himself into a sitting position. "Ja," he said, gritting his teeth. "Bara gled."
Yeah. Just slipped.
"Herr, det regnar," the driver said, helping the mercenary up. "Jag ska ge dig en tur."
Sir, it's raining. I'll give you a ride.
The mercenary breathed a sigh of relief. "Tack," he said as the driver helped him over to the buckboard and they both climbed in.
Thank you.
The driver nodded. The mercenary heard a gate creak open. Judging from the angle the sound came from, it was coming from the property belonging to the man who had just hired him. He surreptitiously glanced over there and thought he saw two shadows slip out of the gates.
Just as I thought.
"Ta mig till puben, snälla," he requested, turning to the driver.
Take me to the pub, please.
The driver nodded and urged the horses onward. "Vad heter du?" the driver asked.
What's your name?
The mercenary stayed silent for a moment. He figured he might as well give the man a name. Still, he kept his voice low so that only the driver could hear. "Stillclaw," he answered. "Mitt namn är Stillclaw."
Stillclaw. My name is Stillclaw.
Half an hour later...
The man who had hired Stillclaw looked up from his dinner when he heard a knock on the front door. He reached for a glass of wine and turned to his butler. "Vem är det?" he asked.
Who is it?
"Jag är säker på att jag inte vet det, sir," the butler replied.
I'm sure I don't know, sir.
He heard confused voices and a dragging noise. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he pushed his chair back and stood up, pulling his Colt revolver out of his holster and aiming it at the dining room's door.
The door creaked open and it came...the mercenary.
Already?
Stillclaw dragged the large canvas bag into the dining room and dumped it next to his temporary bosses' chair. Water was dripping off of his cloak and onto the floor. He simply stared straight back at the man, who's eyes kept darting between him and the canvas bag.
"Vad är det?" the man asked.
What's that?
"Ditt mål," Stillclaw answered.
Your target.
The man appraised him for a moment. Stillclaw figured that he was probably thinking on how quickly he completed the job or the fact that he was still alive, when the man turned to another man in the room – Stillclaw realized that the man was probably a butler – and the man came forward and peeked inside the bag and then shut it again. The butler nodded towards the man, who then lowered his gun.
"Butleren får nu din lön," the man said.
The butler will now get your pay.
The butler quickly left the room and then a minute later came bag with a small pouch that jingled when he threw it at Stillclaw. Stillclaw caught it and opened it. Yep. Exactly the amount agreed on. Stillclaw then gave a small nod to the man in thanks and tied the pouch to his belt. With a final nod, he turned and left the room.
Interesting that he didn't seem that surprised by the fact that his men didn't show up. Which confirmed his theory that they were sent after him as an experiment – to test to see how good he was.
As he exited the property, he unclipped his hand-held mirror from his belt and looked at it. "Show me them," he whispered in English. The mirror, which was in tune with his thoughts, flashed through several faces, the glass shimmering as it did so until it showed the man he had done the assignment for looking up, his eyes staring straight at the mirror as Stillclaw was seeing it through the butler's eyes.
"Ta ut vinet, Filip" the man ordered.
Get out the wine, Filip.
Stillclaw mentally shrugged, satisfied, and clipped the mirror back onto his belt. To anyone else, it would have simply appeared like he was checking his appearance. Stillclaw had used the mirror to study the man and his men after he overheard them (also through the mirror) searching for a 'mercenary'. He knew that after a job was completed – successfully – the man would celebrate with drinking. And he had a specific batch just for such an occasion and only for such an occasion. So, before his appointment to meet the man, he had snuck into the property and spiked all the cases of that specific wine.
In about ten minutes, they'd all be dead.
Same as those two men who had been sent after him.
Life was good.
So, if anyone is wondering where Elsa and Anna are, they're going to appear in the next chapter.