Matthew: Shadow Savior

"Thirty-five and not a clipped coin more." The barber's eyes were narrowed, focusing what he must have thought an impressive stare at the young man he was bartering with.

For his part, Matthew made a show of being unnerved by the man's 'intensity' and after a bit of heel-dragging let him get the deal he was pushing for. Holding up his hands, he drawled out with a very slight Berneese rural accent, "I know when I'm beat, master Dawes. Thirty-five for the good hand mirror. I could get more for it in the city, but you're quite right that it's not like to survive the trip."

The man nodded, quite pleased with himself, and the coin and goods shortly exchanged hands. Master Dawes was the last customer of the day, which was just as well since the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting the massive shadows of the peaks over everything. Night always seemed to come earlier in the mountains, though from the right spot the sunsets were breathtaking, so maybe it was a fair trade. Don't get sunsets like that back Ostia ways, that's for sure.

Matthew half smiled as he noticed that he added the slight country drawl even to his thoughts. That was good, meant he was getting into character. Not that he had to try very hard for this act, mind. Pretending to be a peddler is extremely easy when you actually have a cart and stock to sell. Meant he had to do some actual peddling, but the work wasn't all that difficult, considering he was only making a token effort at coming out ahead. He tried hard enough to not attract suspicion, but not enough to really distract him from the real goal of his trip into Bern: information gathering.

Thankfully, most folks were more then willing to share news with peddlers. It was really the perfect disguise for his needs, providing him a reason to travel, a way to ask questions without standing out and putting him in one of the few positions that small town folk would trust outsiders in.

Morbid as it is, Ostia may have to thank Ranad for getting himself killed like that. The dark thought made the tall man chuckle in a grim fashion. Part of him was still a bit bothered that he could treat life so lightly, but the rest of him knew that was just something that came with the territory. He was a swordsman, a thief, a spy and even an assassin for his country. It wasn't as if he didn't try to tell the man how he could escape, either. Hardly my fault that he risked his life for his merchandise and lost the gamble.

Matthew finished packing down his cart for the night as he thought about what happened. He hadn't been willing to risk facing three brigands on his own without any backup at all, especially as he had no way of ensuring they would focus on him instead of taking the merchant as a hostage. Sure, he probably could have won, and back with the army 'probably' was usually good enough. But on a mission alone? With a deep sigh, Matt shoved the thoughts out of his mind. He was trying to justify his actions and he knew it. Whatever the reason, he left a man to die and then profited from his death after murdering his killers in their sleep. Ranad's blood was on his hands as surely as the brigands'.

Just one more thing to answer for when I finally go to meet Leila. That'll be one hell of a list already, what's one more red stain at this point?

The black thoughts twirled around Matthew's mind, twisting and gnawing away at his composure, as they had been ever since he left Badon...or perhaps even before that. Had he really been whole since Leila died? Had the war after that point been nothing but an excuse to distract himself, much as his mission now was? Matthew was trained to read others like a book, from shifts in stance to facial expressions to subtle inflections in tone, there was little that someone else could hide from him. But even with all this skill, he still had trouble sorting out his own mind.

As he eyed the small town around him, he did know one thing for certain. Nobody here had seen or heard any sign of individuals with the unique combination of black hair and golden eyes. If...if Nergal was still somehow alive and operating as Eagle had said, he wasn't around here. It was time to move on.

Matthew was used to traveling alone, but the slow speed of the cart and the encroaching mountains around him made this trip somehow feel more exhausting then other solo journeys he had undertaken over the years. The rising peaks, so beautiful in other circumstances, now felt oppressive and stifling. Some called the mountain air refreshing, but right now it only seemed thin and hard to breathe. Of course that may only have been because he was fast approaching the highest point of the mountains.

Blackwool, the town where he had just acquired a fair amount of information, if little of it useful, was now two days behind him, and it was still another day and a bit until he arrived in the uncreatively named village of Highpost. Which of course meant one more night camping instead of staying at an inn, but that isn't really what was getting to him. It's not like he was afraid of bandits or even the local wildlife, not when he didn't have to watch someone else's back at least.

No, it wasn't that at all. It was the quiet. The eerie stillness of the winding mountain roads filled by nothing but the sound of his horses' steps and the creaking of the turning wheels of the cart. Perhaps the occasional cry of a bird or distant mountain cat added a small bit of life to the air, but for the longest stretches there was no noise other then what Matthew himself was making. But quiet alone was hardly something that should bother a spy. Matthew had gone for days without speaking during certain missions before, after all. The problem was what the quiet brought with it. Nothing to do, no one to talk to. Nothing to fill his hours but his own thoughts.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea I've ever had. Well, it'll be better once I make it into Bern proper at least. In a desperate attempt to distract himself from the thoughts he wanted to avoid, Matthew thought ahead to the task that awaited him. Even soldiers need more goods then the army gives them, especially in hard times like this. A peddler would be more then welcome, and they'll be a bit more willing to lower their guard and talk to someone bringing goods. I should try and find out what the army is low on and stock up what I can before getting in. Not weapons, I think. More luxury items, like some sugar or honey to help make rations a bit more palatable. Maybe I can get some better blankets or hard weather clothes up here, those would be welcome as well.

Managing to pull his thoughts together and focus, the spy got into the swing of the planning, making mental notes on what he needed to stock before trying to trade with soldiers. The goal was simple, to try and approach the soldiers as if they were men like any other, not just men of war. A stout shield may be worth more in a battle, but it's a warm blanket or an extra serving of good food that they'd be more thankful for between fights. Even soldiers wanted the same comforts as other men, the small things to remind them that they were human and not as faceless and soulless as the blades they carried.

The cart rumbled on as he thought ahead, the horses simply following the road with only a bit of direction from their driver. Hours passed like that, Matthew's dark mood forgotten as he worked out the good he would need to acquire to perfect his plan. But just as he started to crack a smile about how it's fortunate that 'acquisitions' happened to be one of his many specialties, a sound from the side of the road snapped him back to full awareness.

Placing a hand on his knife, he called out towards the sound, "Who's there? Show yourself."

A moment later, a man with an axe over his shoulder stepped out of the brush with a big smile on his face, "Ah, sorry there lad, didn't mean to disturb ya. Headin' for Highpost I take it?"

Nodding in answer to the question, Matthew quickly sized the man up. Muscular but he wore no armor, just some thick woolen clothes suited for work in the mountains. The smile showed missing teeth, telling the spy that he'd seen his share of fights in the past. It would be easy to take him for a simple lumberjack, out working while he heard a cart on the road. But Matthew could see deeper then that, even at just a glance. The man's axe was certainly a tool for chopping wood instead of a weapon of war, but he still caught the telltale bloodstains on the haft, though the blade itself was clean. The man's smile was also entirely false. Oh, he was happy enough to see a peddler alright, but not in an honest way. He smiled like a wolf who'd just sighted a lonely sheep. It reminded Matthew of the sort of smile Lord Hector would wear when forced to be nice to someone he didn't like.

Taking the nod at face value, the man's smile grew, "Ah, good to hear, good to hear. Lovely town you know. Hope you're plannin' on stayin' a bit, I'll have to make the time to some in and see your goods."

Matthew smiled in return, doing a much better job of making it look genuine, "Of course. I've even got a few things a woodsman like yourself could use, I'd wager. Some top notch steel carving knives if you work the wood as well as chop it down, and even a quality whetstone all the way from the Western Isles, guaranteed to make that edge on your axe as good as new."

To his credit, the man did a fairly good job of looking impressed and interested at Matt's sales pitch, nodding along and insisting, "Well I certainly will have to come take a look then. Could use a new whetstone." Taking a step back, he turned to head back into the trees, "Well I won't hold you up any long. Good eve' to you, sir."

"And you as well, sir." Matthew responded politely before prodding his horses to continue moving.

The moment he figured the man was well and truly out of sight, Matthew reached down for a certain small bag he kept in the hidden space he found under the seat of the cart. After fishing the bag out, he quickly pulled his shirt off and got to work getting properly 'dressed', fastening on the hidden wrist sheathes containing throwing knives, as well as a sort of harness over his chest that held a sheath for a longer fighting knife tight against his back. It didn't take him long to slide these on, or to get his shirt and cloak back on over them to hide the weapons.

Now fully equipped, Matthew's senses felt sharper. He didn't wear these normally. Too risky that they might be noticed, and his cover completely blown. A peddler carrying a single blade openly was nothing strange, but no one carried such hidden blades who was up to any good, or at least that's what common wisdom held. But right now, he felt it was worth the risk. Something was going on in Highpost, and he'd wager it wasn't anything pleasant.

Schooling his expression to that particular mixture of weary, cautious and friendly that people expected from peddlers, Matthew kept his eyes open and his ears alert as he made his way towards Highpost, pushing on through the night if need be.

As Matthew spoke with the village headman, he didn't really like what he was hearing. "So let me get this straight. You don't normally have bandit trouble around here, but somehow all of a sudden an entire gang moves in and stops anyone from leaving town? But doesn't attack the town itself ever?" Matt shook his head, not really able to make sense of these actions, "Why? If they're just after profit, they should be attacking, right?"

A couple of the other village men in the common room of the only inn in town gave him a dirty look for that line, but the headman nodded, "That's correct. We can't figure it out either. All we know is they let people in, but never out. And I'm afraid all the fighting men this town used to be home to have all already been caught up in the fighting down in the lowlands."

The Ostian nodded, having expected as much on that front. Trying to fathom the motives the so called 'bandits' could have, he pressed for more information, "So what happens if you do try to leave? They kill you?"

Another man snorted and shook his head, "Not if you'll turn 'round and head back to town nice and easy like. Damndest thing."

"...right." Matthew closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids, suddenly understanding Grant's chronic headaches so much more. This did not make any sense that he could see. Which meant these were not normal bandits. Bandits were base men with base desires. Patience was rarely part of the package and their plans never ranged far beyond 'kill, rape, pillage THEN burn' in complexity.

At his overt sign of frustration and tiredness, the headman chuckled a bit and patted him on the shoulder, swiftly pulling his hand back as Matthew visibly flinched, "Uh, sorry son. Look, you've had a long trip and should get some rest. Maybe we'll talk about some trading when you're up to it. Might raise spirits all around. All we can do is wait until another town notices they haven't heard from us in awhile."

Matt nodded, quietly thankful the flinch had gotten the man's hand away from possibly feeling the shoulder strap of his hidden weapon sheath. Quickly he spun a lie to cover the oddness of the motion as he agreed to the idea, "Sorry as well. Was night-watch for a city guard not too long ago. Still don't take well to being touched without warning. And rest sounds good, thanks."

A woman came over to show Matthew to where he could sleep, a half smile on her face as she led the way, "An ex-guardsman, hmm? Thank Elimine for small favors I suppose. Not much one man can do, but it's nice to have someone trained in real weaponswork stuck here with us, just in case."

Following the woman, Matt returned the smile with a tired one of his own and patted the blade he wore openly. "I'm no master," he forcefully stopped himself from snickering at that particular half-truth, "but I'm good enough to get away with traveling without a guard so far. If they change their minds and come at the town while I'm here, you can bet I'll lend a blade."

"You're a good man, master...Norris, was it?" The woman asked as they arrived at the room he would be using.

Matthew nodded, "That it is. Thank you for the room, ma'am."

And with that, he wrapped himself up in his cloak, still too paranoid to get under the blankets that could impede his ability to spring up at a moment's notice, and laid down to get some sleep.

Having arrived at Highpost early morning, Matthew woke close to dinner time, the smell of a good country meal doing more to draw him from his slumber then anything else. Taking a moment to straighten out his clothing and make sure that his hidden armaments were well and truly hidden, he used the same time to prepare himself mentally before heading out.

His character this time was Norris, a young man new to the peddler's trade, having somehow come into some money while working as night-watch in a city guard somewhere. Not enough to retire on, but enough to quit his job with the watch and try his hand at the life he'd always wanted, that of the traveling merchant. Handy enough with a blade not to embarrass himself and still operating with a bit of a watchman's mindset, protect civilians and spare no sympathy for outlaws.

The details were still vague, but it was serviceable enough here. The people of Highpost would be happy enough to see a peddler at all, much less one who had a bit of combat experience, that they wouldn't poke at his cover too hard. This was just a bit of good luck to balance all that ill luck they've been having lately, that's all. After all, people believed two things very easily: things they want to be true and things they fear are true.

As he opened the door to walk out into the common room, Matthew suppressed a small smile at his next thought. The trick, of course, will be investigating these bandits without giving myself away. But that's what makes this part fun. He had entered the highlands specifically for that reason, after all. Nergal, or someone pretending to be him, would find more secrecy to work with here then in the lowlands in the middle of the current conflict. These bandits were the first thing he'd found that seemed enough out of place to possibly be connected, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to follow up on that.

Making his entrance into the room, Matthew was a bit surprised to find it fairly crowded. It seemed like most of the men still in town were here, and the topic of conversation was of course the bandits. Nodding to those who acknowledged his entrance, he kept to the sides and out of the conversation for a bit, just listening as he acquired and started in on some dinner.

The flow of the conversation seemed to be going in the direction of what Grant referred to as 'wild mass planning', where a bunch of people who had no real business trying to come up with battle plans desperately tried to do just that. And the poor folks of Highpost, like the examples Grant always used to describe this, were falling into the trap of thinking that plans had to be complicated or they would be seen through too easily. Which was fairly blatantly false, most of the best plans were simple since the more complex things got the easier they were to disrupt. But a bunch of non-combatants would hardly know that.

Quickly finishing his meal, the spy in peddler's guise invited himself over to the table where the village headman and the other older men were trying to think of a way out of the situation without much success. Nodding respectfully, he looked around for a chair to pull in, "Mind if I sit in? This is my problem now too, so I'd like to help if I can."

The headman gestured and people scooted around to make room for him at the table. As Matt pulled over a chair and made himself comfortable, the headman nodded and thanked him for his offer, "Thankee, son. We could use any help we can get at this point. Now you said you used to be Watch? Ever deal with bandits like this before?"

Matthew shook his head, "Bandits were a job for soldiers, not the watch. We dealt more with thieves and some rowdy drunks, but if it happened outside the city walls then it wasn't our problem. I might have a couple of ideas though, if you wouldn't mind answering a couple questions for me?"

The men all nodded their agreement, and Matthew continued, "These brigands wouldn't happen to have black hair and gold eyes, would they? I know it's an odd question, but..." he leaned in conspiratorially and lowered his voice as if afraid of being overheard, "well, I've heard some rumors from the King's men about some people who all looked like that doing some really strange things. Kidnapping, serving dark mages, that kind of thing. It's all rumor, but the soldiers seemed to believe it."

There was some murmuring around the table at the question, but one of the men shook his head, "That's not exactly pleasant news, but I've seen a few of 'em and not one's had gold eyes. Black hair on a couple, but normal eyes like any other man."

Matthew leaned back, a bit disappointed in his find. Though he kept the thought that it could be one morph paying off a bunch of normal men to himself. But before he start in on his other questions, the door of the inn flew open and a hysterical woman burst inside.

"Headman Jons!" The woman's eyes were wide, and her face halfway between white with fear and red from exertion, her loud voice piercing cleanly over every conversation in the room, "I can't find Willis! I can't find him anywhere!"

In an instant the village men were on their feet, the headman grabbing the woman by her shoulders to calm her down, "Deep breaths, Maggie, deep breaths. What do you mean you can't find Willis?"

The woman took the deep breaths as ordered, but they didn't seem to help much as she blurted out, "I mean just that, I can't find him anywhere! And Dorris can't find her Henry either! She said her granddad's old sword is gone from the mantle, too!"

Matthew winced, putting the pieces together quickly to come to the only conclusion he could. Standing up himself, he moved over towards the crowd around the door, "Is that so? How old are these boys, ma'am?"

The headman answered for her, "Willis just turned fifteen this month, and Henry is a bit younger." He paused, not wanting to say it but unable to resist, "You don't think...?"

Another man nodded, "That's exactly what he's saying, headman. Those damn fool boys are trying to play hero. Bet Willis's huntin' bow is gone too, ain't it Maggie?"

The color drained right from the woman's face as she nodded slightly.

The room broke out into shouts and noise at this, everyone having their own ideas of what to do about it. In the commotion, few if any noticed the 'peddler' quietly slipping away into the kitchen and out the back door.

Damn it all to hell!

Matthew cursed inwardly as he silently followed the tracks of the two boys as best he could. I shouldn't be doing this. I'm going to blow my cover wide open.

But he knew that at this point, he didn't have a choice. He'd reacted without thinking, leaving the inn to try and catch the boys before they did something monumentally stupid. He didn't quite realize what he was doing until he was already out the door, either. But now that he was already here...he just couldn't turn around and try to salvage his cover. He knew it wasn't too late, he could spin a story or two that would make his sudden exit seem completely reasonable for 'Norris'. But he just couldn't do it.

This is stupid. I don't know how many bandits there are, I don't know how well armed they really are and I can't even try to cut the kids off because I don't know the terrain or even exactly where I'm going. Matthew seethed a bit at himself and the situation as he lost the tracks for a moment, then found them again. All I can do is follow their tracks, and I'm barely an amateur tracker, I just know the basics Guy taught me...

That thought caused the spy's frustration with himself to nearly double. Guy...yeah, this is exactly what he would have done. Which is about all the proof I need to know it was a bad idea. DAMMIT!

The sun had just finished setting, casting a dark twilight over the mountain and making keeping the trail that much more difficult. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Matthew slowed his progress and focused on keeping to the tracks. There was no way he could catch up to them by this point, all he could do was follow the tracks as best he could and hope that the bandits took the kids alive.

Well at least my hunch was right. Matthew watched the two men guarding the front entrance of the crumbling old fort from his position of peeking out from behind a large rock. He'd guessed their base would be east of the town, to put their strength between the town and the lowlands. That would be the most sensible direction for a villager to try to escape towards, and it's the most likely direction help would come from. The kids apparently knew of the outpost as well, since their tracks led straight here.

Of course being right wasn't of much comfort at the moment. Keeping as still as possible, Matthew picked over his options while watching the guards. Two ways I can do this. One, the direct approach. Take out the guards before they can raise an alarm and slip right in the front. I'd need to draw them out, maybe with the classic 'throw a rock to make a noise' ploy. Of course that only works if they're dumb.

Sizing the men up as much as he could in the poor light, he was forced to admit that they didn't look quite as sloppy as he'd hoped. They had decent weapons from what he could see, and were quite alert. They probably have the kids inside and are expecting a rescue team from the town. Right, so option two it is. Look for another entrance.

This was hardly Matthew's first time in rough terrain at night, so he knew how to move quietly even here. Slipping out from behind his cover, he kept to the darkest spots while carefully moving around to the side of the fort. The place looked in poor repair, so there had to be another way in, and with any luck one they didn't expect. Matthew was willing to bet that he could fit through a hole they didn't think was large enough to block off, or climb a spot these men didn't think was climbable.

As he reached the northern side of the fort without being spotted, he found his entrance. A hole in the wall about three feet off the ground. Far too small for most to fit through, but the lanky spy was fairly sure he could work his way through it even with his hidden weapons on. The trick, of course, was getting in without being seen or heard.

A few moments listening and a quick peek through the hole told him that nobody was on the other side right this moment...and thankfully the bandits didn't seem interested in placing torches or lanterns about to keep the area well lit. So long as he was quiet about it, he didn't think he'd get caught.

Well, here goes nothing. Taking the gamble, Matt carefully slid his arms and head through the hole, twisting and contorting to work his body through the tight fit and relying on his cloak to take the brunt of the damage that the close scrape against the rough stone would do. A moment later, he was in, with the bandits none the wiser.

As soon as he was in, Matthew went low to the ground, slipping away from the hole and into the deepest shadows he could find. Staying stock still, he took a few moments to listen, trying to hear footsteps or voices to give him the positions of the enemy, and trying to picture the layout of the building from what he heard.

He was in a somewhat cramped corridor against the outer wall, periodic arrow slits telling him all he needed to know about what the intended use of this space was. He could hear the low murmur of activity from somewhere...possibly on the other side of the inner wall, the sound was muffled enough to be coming from another room and likely through a closed door. Unless he let someone shout, he doubted whoever was in that room would hear anything he did. What interested him more were some footsteps, faint but slightly echoing. They weren't coming from outside, he could tell that much. Which meant that it was someone walking around in another section of the outer hallway where he was now.

Carefully listening a moment longer told him the steps were moving away from him, but slowly. Which meant that if he followed as quietly as he could, he could catch the man from behind. And we have our volunteer for target number one.

Putting action to thought, the spy started to slide through the hall towards the retreating steps. It wasn't long before he could see the man, a lone bandit trudging through the halls, likely quite unhappy with being stuck patrolling the dark hall. Matt followed him, keeping a decent distance away and staying low. He wanted to wait until they made it to the opposite side from the door, to minimize risk of being caught.

Twice the man did turn and look behind him, but he gave no notice that he saw his pursuer. A hint of a joyless smile pulled at Matt's mouth at the motion, Probably just a paranoid habit. Might have helped him too, if he were just a little more alert.

After what felt like forever, the bandit made his way back to the eastern hall, as far from the west facing doors as he could get. And that's when Matthew struck, drawing his long knife and slitting the poor bastard's throat in one fluid motion. The inattentive bandit never really stood a chance.

After quietly lowering the body to the ground, the cold smile broke out in full on the Ostian assassin's face as he moved back towards the door leading to the inner rooms he noted while following his first victim. And now that the first dead body is in play, it's time to work quickly. I'll leave the two outside alone to see if I can question them later.

Listening at the door, Matt had to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief as he placed exactly what the noise he'd heard earlier was. Snoring. Those mooks are snoring up a storm in there. Which makes that room the bunks. Didn't see a second floor, so there's likely a basement accessible from the bunks for the mess. Oh this is just perfect.

Taking a quiet but deep breath, Matt took hold of the door and started to ease it open as slowly as he could, thinking about all the horrible ways this could go wrong. It would really be just my luck to be caught by a squeaky hinge. Fortunately luck was with him, and while there was some very slight squeaking, it wasn't enough to wake any of the men inside over the snoring. Still not wanting to tempt fate, he opened the door only just enough to let him slip in, then took a peek inside.

As expected, the room was full of roughly made bunk beds with a few footlockers intended for the possessions of the soldiers who once slept here and little else. In the far right corner of the room, he could see some flickering light coming up through a hole in the floor, confirming his guess of a sublevel for the mess. Light wasn't the only thing coming from that hole either, as sounds of a few men still awake could be just barely heard through the racquet being made by the sleeping brigands.

Easing himself into the room, Matthew counted how many were asleep and took stock of the situation. Two guarding the outside door. One patrolling the hall. Four asleep in here. That's seven already. I don't know how many are down below, and they have to have a few other men out watching the road to keep the villagers from slipping away in the night. This is quite a little operation someone's got going. The mess looks well lit, too, so this is probably the end of my stealth work. Well, almost the end...

A few moments later, the snoring men stopped snoring, and it wasn't because they woke up. Wiping the blood off his blade with a bed sheet, Matthew then closed the door behind him and moved something to bar it. Taking up a good position, he did his best to blend in with the darkness of the room and waited.

It wasn't long before he heard the words he was waiting for from the hole in the corner.

A voice suddenly changed it's tone to a worried one, "...hey, be quiet. Do you guys hear that?"

That's one.

Another, rougher, voice answered, "Hear what? I don't hear nothin'."

Two.

The first responded, "Yeah. It's quiet. It ain't never this quiet."

A third voice sounded rather nonchalant, "So what? What's wrong with a little quiet?"

Three.

The first responded again, "No, no, I'm talkin' about the snorin'! I can't hear any snorin'!"

Then a fourth voice, smoother and more articulate then the others chimed in, "He's right, those knuckleheads never sleep quietly. Something is going on."

Four...

The rough voice spoke again, quieter but still audible, "Uh...you want we should check it out?"

Matthew smiled, And number four is the leader.

The leader's answer was predictable, "Yes, I do. You go, and stay cautious. Yell if you see anything even slightly strange."

The second voice wasn't so enthused, answering with a hesitant, "Uh, yeah, sure." But the approaching footsteps meant he was obeying.

Matthew readied himself to strike. He knew they'd notice he was here as soon as the snoring stopped, this ploy was just to give him a chance to kill one more easily and to tell him how many were down there.

As the bandit's head appeared in the hole, Matthew held his position. The man looked around a bit from that vantage point before pulling himself all the way up into the room, calling down to his boss, "I'm up. Nothing' yet."

Keeping as still and silent as the shadow he hid in, Matthew watched as the bandit readied his weapon and started approaching one of the beds. He even let the man pull the sheet back before striking.

As he saw the body of his comrade, the bandit started to yell down, "Dead! Boss, they're de-AUGH!" But his warning was cut short by Matthew's blade being rammed through the back of his head.

Holding his position, Matthew listened again for the reactions of those below. Stealth was gone, but with any luck he had put enough fear in them to tilt the odds back in his favor.

For a long moment, all was quiet from the mess below. Then the third voice spoke, and what he said was not anything Matthew was expecting, "Hey, Lars. What if it's him? What if it's the Angel of Death?"

The spy nearly choked with a combination of shock, anger and laughter at the thought. They think I'm JAFFAR? But that means they're connected to the Black Fang and Nergal somehow then. Maybe this was a good idea after all. Of course the kids are probably down there too. I'll have to be careful...

The first voice sounded panicked, "What? Y-you think HE's here? I-I'm not goin' up there, boss. Not for nothin'."

However, the leader's voice remained strangely calm, "If it is him, we're all dead anyway. It's just a matter of when. All we can do is pray it isn't and get ready to fight."

Taking a gamble on a chance for information, Matt moved towards the hole in the corner and called down, "Oh, Jaffar is the least of your worries right now, gentlemen."

It was quiet below for a few seconds before the leader called back, "So it would seem. Who are you? Who do you serve?"

Matthew answered, already spinning his latest lie, "My name doesn't matter. I serve Prince Zephiel."

"The prince?" The leader sounded confused, "What does the prince want with us?"

Matt crossed his fingers, hoping his instinct was right, "Vengeance. The Fang tried to have him killed you know."

The third voice cut in again, "Whoa, hey now, we're not with the Fang anymore! We heard about that, but we left before that happened!"

Putting all the disdain and disbelief into his voice that he could manage, Matthew responded, "How...convenient for you."

Quickly the leader's voice backed up his comrade's claim, "It's true. The two of us were Fang once, but we got out once we heard the Hurricane left. We have nothing to do with them anymore."

"Well then," Matt made the offer he'd been working over in his mind, "how about buying your lives with some information? Tell me where the Fang hideouts are, tell me where to find Nergal, and I'll consider letting you walk out of here alive."

The third voice was hesitant, "You sure that's a good idea, Lars? What if they find out that we ratted on 'em?"

But the leader overruled him, "Whoever's up there is good. It's that or die here." Raising his voice, he called back to Matthew, "Terms accepted. Come down here and ask whatever questions you want, just leave us alive."

Pulling a cloth from his pocket, Matthew tied it around his mouth and nose to hide his face, then pulled the cowl of his cloak over his brow to complete the effect. Fear was the weapon he would use here, so he had to look the part. Still somewhat expecting a trap, he kept his blade in hand as he dropped down the hole and landed in a crouch.

The sight that greeted him was exactly what he didn't want to see. He saw the three men as expected, but also the two boys, unconscious and right next to one of the three, the one in druid's robes. The druid, who Matthew could only assume was the leader, had his hand held over them, crackling with a dark power.

The druid sneered as Matthew stood up, and as he spoke his voice gave away that he was the leader, or Lars as the third voice called him, "Hah. You didn't think I wouldn't have an ace up my sleeve, did you? Here are my terms, Prince's man. Drop your weapons and I won't rip the souls of these children right from their earthly bodies."

And to think he was trying to compare himself to Legault. What a scumbag. Still, Matthew didn't really have a choice. He dropped his sword on the ground and locked eyes with the druid.

Lars shook his head, "The hidden ones too. I know your kind."

Biting back a sigh and scrapping the plan that was starting to come to mind, Matthew pulled the two throwing knives from his wrist sheaths and dropped them as well. Now to just hope he doesn't think about the last one...

Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy the man, as he added, "Now kick them over here."

Working up a new plan, Matthew complied while he sized up the other two men. One was fairly large and carried an axe as expected from bandits. The other was scruffy looking, but still cleaner then the axeman, and had a bow. Odds say the bowman is the other ex-Fang. Maybe I can get info out of him. But first I have to deal with this guy.

Once the weapons had been kicked over as requested, Lars's smile turned positively villainous. Gesturing at the large axeman, he said the words Matthew had been waiting for, "Kill him."

The axeman grinned and rushed, yelling a battle-cry as he came. So Matthew did the one thing he knew the man would not expect and sprung towards him, evading the powerful swing and coming up in a roll behind him, giving him a clear shot at the man's back.

Except that isn't who he was after at all. Ignoring the axeman, Matt drew his last hidden blade from the sheath on his back and kept his forward momentum towards the druid.

But the dark mage had reacted quickly as well, turning the energies he had already gathered towards the swiftly approaching assassin and letting them loose in the form of a powerful nosferatu spell.

There was no time to dodge. Gritting his teeth, Matthew took the brunt of the attack and forced himself to keep moving even as he felt the spell leeching the energy right out of him. He watched the druid's eyes go wide with surprise at his survival of the spell, then with a small sense of satisfaction slammed his knife right through one of said eyes.

In one swift strike, the druid had been silenced. But there was no time to rest yet. Leaving his knife where he stuck it, Matthew dropped to the ground and scooped his normal blade back up as he rolled to the side to evade the axeman's second charge. One quick pass and two strokes later, and the large man joined his master on the floor.

Turning his attention to the archer...Matthew was surprised to see the man simply drop his bow and place his hands in the air in the universal gesture of surrender.

Straightening up as much as he could through the pain and sudden onrush of fatigue thanks to the druid's spell, Matthew nodded in acceptance of the man's surrender but still kept half an eye on him as he quickly started searching through the fallen druid's pockets until he found the healing concoction he was looking for. Guys like this always keep a vulnerary on hand.

Keeping his blade in one hand, he started applying the salve to his wounds while talking to the archer, the beginning of a plan coming to his mind, "So looks like you're the smart one here. What's your name?"

The archer answered, "Uh, Wester. And, uh, you prob'ly don't believe me anymore but we're really not with the Fang now, I swear."

Matt actually nodded, "No, I do believe you. This is way too sloppy to be a Fang operation. Look, Wester, I've got a lot of questions that I'm hoping you have answers to, but for now I want to get these kids back to their folks. If you're interested in legitimate work, for the Prince, I've got a job for you."

Those seemed to be about the last words the man expected to hear, but he quickly nodded, "I'm listening..."

The headman shook Wester's hand vigorously, "I can't thank you enough for savin' those boys, mister Wester. If you hadn't come along when you did, I hate to think what might have happened."

Wester looked at 'Norris' from the corner of his eye, but forced a smile and waved off the headman's thanks, "Uh, no trouble. And I didn't get all of 'em, but I'm sure their leader's gone so the rest should break up on their own after a bit."

Willis's mother positively beamed at the archer, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, of course. You saved my boy and the whole town by drivin' them bandits off like that. "

Matthew spoke up at that point, putting the finishing touches on his plan, "Actually, I was hoping I could convince Wester here to hire on with me as a guard. This incident here has taught me that the roads are a bit more dangerous then I'd given them credit for. It's good coin and we'll definitely be passing through some cities where you can spend it. What do you say?"

Just as Matthew told him too, Wester scratched his chin and considered the offer, "That doesn't sound half bad, actually. I was hopin' to head back down to the lowlands before long anyway."

Some of the villagers looked a bit down, but the headman nodded, "Well, you're welcome here in Highpost anytime, son. And you as well, peddler. Mighty foolish of you to run off on your own like that, but thank you for the help all the same."

Matthew put on a slightly sheepish face, "Yeah, I was just hoping I could catch up with them before they went too far was all. No such luck, but all's well that ends well, right?" Then moving over to his cart, Matt started setting up shop, "But before I hit the road again, I believe something was mentioned before about a bit of trading."

As the people started to gather around and see what he had to offer, Matt inwardly chuckled about how this whole thing turned out. Lies within lies. These people think I'm a peddler named Norris and Wester is a wandering merc who just so happened to run across their bandits. Wester thinks I'm working for Prince Zephiel under the guise of Norris the peddler and my real job is hunting down the Black Fang. Hope I can keep all this straight.

Observing the ex-Fang archer a bit more while conducting business, Matthew wondered just how much use the man would be. I've got a laundry list of questions for him, and the open road is the perfect place to ask them. With any luck, this'll be my key to finding whoever's making the morphs now.

Then he grimaced a bit as he recalled one very important step that he'd forgotten until now. Okay, next step is to get a report back to Ostia. Lord Hector is going to love to hear about this.

Author's Footnote: Wow, this was my longest chapter yet. Hope the Metal Gear Matthew part was enjoyable, since that was what I was really trying to get a feel for this chapter. We know he's a good thief/spy/assassin, but actually writing his little game of Hide & Go Murder was a bit of a challenge. A fun one, though. Next time on Sword and Shadow, it's back to Guy's PoV!