The sun had barely risen above the numerous houses. The streets of the city were sleepy and inactive. A large manor located in one of the richer districts of the city had a single figure emerge from its imposing steel gates, the sun casting a light shadow before his figure. The man carried an air of importance, his extravagant robes fluttering jauntily in the light breeze, and strode towards a carriage that was already awaiting its passenger. Behind the carriage were maybe twenty guards, all on horseback, present to ensure the man's protection. Lord Bertram Volker entered his ornate wooden carriage for his daily morning stroll.
With a crack of a whip the carriage started at a leisurely pace, Volker already thinking of the coming day's hardships. Trailing the carriage were the group of guards in a double line formation. The guards all wore robes to warm them from the cold temperatures of the morning, the glint of steel in the morning light revealing the chain shirts they wore beneath.
There was a dull thud that sounded from outside. Curious, Volker peered out the side window of his carriage. Just outside, perhaps an arm's length away, his driver lay sprawled on the cold stone of the city's street, an arrow protruding from the side of his head. Strange, Volker thought, his mind still struggling to comprehend the event, Burke has left his post. I'll have to reprimand him later.
The horses were well trained and disciplined enough to plod on despite the death of their driver. Outside, the guards were in confusion. An arrow had shot through one of the guards, startling the horse, which, in turn startled the other horses. Even the discipline of the carriage horses could not ignore the chaos now surrounding them. The carriage turned and suddenly halted, jolting Volker out of his shocked reverie. Terror gripped him. Another arrow flew from nowhere and another guard died, blood flowing out of the wound. Hearing the guard's tortured scream before death, Volker panicked, cowering in his carriage. At that point, several of the guards did the unthinkable. Several of them turned and attacked their comrades.
Now, unsure whether the man next to them was friend or foe, the guards began to break formation, lashing out at any they perceived to be an enemy. It was not long before the entire procession was gripped in a confused brawl. Two of the "traitor" guards, untouched by the confusion gripping their fellows, had engaged the other guards mercilessly, easily cutting down their confused foes. The third traitor guard, however, stayed back, a strained look of concentration evident on his features. Nearly in unison, the beleaguered guards cried out in surprise, finding that they could barely lift their weapons. To a man, the guards found that their weapons had been turned to heavy, unwieldy lead. The two traitor guards took advantage of this and came upon their foe with a practiced grace, cutting through their basically unarmed enemies.
Inside his carriage, his robes in disarray, Volker shivered in fear. Thoughts raced unceasing within his mind; plans of escape, hopes of rescue, and even speculation on his death intermingled with one another. Suddenly his carriage door opened and Volker nearly died of shock, expecting one of the assassins to clamber in and kill him. Instead he was greeted by one of his guards.
"Quick, we must get out of here!" Volker yelled, fear causing his voice to crack. Perplexed, the guard regarded him strangely.
"Where to, my lord?" he inquired solemnly.
"Back to the manor, to the Watch, anywhere! Anywhere but here!" A grim smile played across the guard's face and Volker knew his mistake.
"How about hell?" the guard replied, thrusting his sword deep into Volker's body.
Finally, the sun overcame the roofing of the houses, at last able to shed a few rays of light on the streets below. Lord Bertram Volker died a bloody death within his carriage. In other parts of the city, several businesses had just opened up shop, their owners eager to face the coming day.
A man sat alone in a sparsely furnished room. Several potted plants dotted the corners of the square room. The man sat behind a rectangular wooden table and a simple chair with no arms. Behind him was a window, a portal to the outside world that allowed a glimmer of light to shine through. Opposite of the man was a plain wooden door. The door opened.
Five men all entered, one after the other. The first man had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, standing shorter than those that followed him. The tattered green cloak he had swept over his shoulders further accentuated the simplistic nature of his clothing. The man wore a dry expression upon his face, as if the living took up too much time. Two daggers could be seen on his belt and a sheathed short sword upon his left hip. He walked rather lethargically and slowly reached the table the man was sitting at.
The second man was a tow headed giant, standing at least half a head taller than his fellows. His light blue eyes seemed unnaturally severe, as if always sizing up a potential target. The man wore a short white tunic, a leather belt, and white trousers. A nondescript leather vest was worn over his tunic and a bow was slung across his back, accompanied with a quiver. He followed the first man, adopting his slow pace and stopping several feet behind him.
The third man who entered sported dull gray robes that enveloped his entire person; the only visible feature of him was his face, which seemed to be made of stone. Black hair fell across his brown eyes, which seemed dead, with only the slightest flicker of life. He stood to the side, flanking the first man.
The fourth man entered sporting several weapons on his person, from an axe to a dagger, he carried many armaments. He had similar clothing to the second man and was the second tallest of the group. Sharp, brown eyes peered from beneath a crown of similarly colored hair. He remained by the door, his features seemingly stuck in a perpetual sneer.
The fifth man had a short white tunic and light brown trousers accompanied by a leather belt. He had a longsword sheathed on his left hip, with an elegant hilt. He had dark brown hair and bright eyes. He walked with a rather joyful movement flanking the first man's right.
After the five men had entered and adopted their respective positions around the room, the seated man began to speak,
"Very well done. You five have exceeded my expectations. As promised…"
The man tossed a leather pouch bound with rope. It landed on the table with an audible thud, the enticing jingle of coins coming from within. The man wearing the tattered robes casually picked up the bag and hefted it. He addressed the seated man,
"You're missing some."
"Attentive, I thought you might pick that up. Truly I can trust your abilities," the man placed several more coins on the desk, an apprising smile spread across his lips.
With that, the man in the tattered robes snatched up the coins and pouch and the entire group left the room as if they had not been there.
Night was fast approaching, moonlight softly illuminating the city. The city was gradually returning to sleep. Inside the Silver Sun Tavern, however, the night was still young and the entire building was bustling with activity. Barmaids rushed to and fro, attending to the many customers. The bartender was busy chatting with several of the regulars, a genuine smile upon his features. Even a group of five was enjoying the atmosphere.
"Cheers, to another job well done!" a man in a green cloak stated.
He raised his mug high and the four others all did the same, their mugs clinking together.
"Really, must you do this every time, Koen?" a man in gray robes inquired casually before sipping his drink.
"Let him have his fun, Braeden. At least this is time to relax," a tallest man of the group said.
"Whatever, you are right, Kaethe."
Koen politely stopped one of the barmaids and asked for their strongest drink. A man with dark brown hair and happy eyes quickly asked for the same.
"If Koen can handle it, I'll show him I can to," the man declared rather confidently.
"Is that so, Varick? Do you remember last time?" Koen questioned mockingly.
"Last time never counts. I already told you that," Varick said defensively.
Varick addressed the man next to him, who seemed determined to keep a dour expression despite the atmosphere around him, "Gunther, show some spirit. At least we're all still alive. C'mon, drink with me."
Gunther nodded. Varick hastily asked another barmaid for their strongest drink. After several minutes of joyful conversation, except for Gunther, who did not say a word, three drinks were placed upon their table. Kaethe and Braeden ceased their conversation. Koen, Varick, and Gunther took their drinks.
"All right Varick, go for it," Koen challenged.
"Eh, you first," Varick replied.
"All right," Koen answered before promptly gulping down his drink. An empty glass hit the table.
Emboldened by this, Varick quickly gulped down his drink, Gunther following suit. Gunther set his down, letting it lightly hit the table. Varick addressed Koen triumphantly,
"See, nothing. I'm untouchab-" before finishing his sentence Varick passed out, hitting the table with a thud.
"Impressive," Braeden muttered under his breath, earning a slight chuckle from Kaethe.
"We'll just have to carry him. Let's enjoy the rest of the night," Koen decided.
Night fell fully across the city.