85: Chala's Knees (Patreon)

Vir made haste escaping the Warrens with Neel. If anyone had heard Ravin’s daughter screaming, no one seemed to show it, but Vir wasn’t taking any chances. He ran across rooftops and sped through empty alleys with Neel. It was only after he’d arrived at the eastern gate did he slow down.

Riyan had taught him long ago that the most suspicious people acted suspiciously, so despite every instinct telling Vir to run—to run as far and as fast as he could—he forced himself to lope across the drawbridge. It was only after he’d crossed the Grand Moat and was safely within Daha’s walls did he dare to relax a hair.

Vir’s mind was blank the entire way back, studiously observing his surroundings as if hidden foes would jump from the shadows at every moment. It was a welcome distraction from the panic and unease that ravaged his mind.

He stopped only once—taking a break atop a rooftop to alter his appearance back to the face the Brotherhood was familiar with. The face of a rugged young warrior.

After that, he proceeded straight to the Executor’s booth. The shops may have been closed, but the Brotherhood never shut down.

“It is done,” Vir said, ushering Neel inside the booth and closing the door behind him. He didn’t bother to introduce himself. While he’d never met this female Executor, he knew she knew who he was.

“We know,” the Executor said.

“You know? I thought the Brotherhood didn’t spy on anyone during missions?”

“We certainly do not. However, you must have heard of the Brotherhood intelligence network? Operatives are everywhere, at all times. Even in Ravin’s very household.”

If you had someone in his compound, why didn’t you hire them to take him out?

“Servants seldom make good assassins,” the veiled Executor calmly said, ignoring Vir’s shocked expression. “As for how we knew before you’d arrived, well, we have our ways.”

Vir knew the Executor wouldn’t reveal any secrets, no matter how much he prodded. Well, maybe they would, if I paid them enough karma points, he thought. But he didn’t have points to spare on idle curiosity.

“The contractor will be very pleased at this news,” the Executor lady continued.

“Guessing you’re not going to say who the contractor was,” Vir said.

“We cannot. We can, however, congratulate you on your promotion to Acolyte. Well earned, friend,” she said, passing Vir his one silver reward. “This mission awards one 1000 Brotherhood karma, and with this, your total karma now stands at 1760. Impressive. Most impressive.”

“T-thanks,” Vir replied, taken aback at the genuine praise.

“You now have access to 10% discounts at Brotherhood Sanctum armorers, and a 5% discount at Brotherhood dorm rooms. Acolyte-grade rooms are now available for rent.”

Vir nodded. The perks were nice, but that wasn’t what he really cared about.

“So, about that dossier I’d asked for.”

The Executor paused, as if recalling an old conversation. “Ah, yes. In recognition of your exemplary service, we have arranged a more suitable reward for you. Instead of a dossier, we have arranged a meeting.”

“A meeting?” Vir echoed. “With whom? This wasn’t what I asked for.” He also wondered how they acted so fast. It had only been a few hours since Ravin’s death, and it was currently past the middle of the night.

“Tomorrow evening, at this location and time,” the Executor said, handing Vir a small folded piece of parchment. “You will learn their identity when you meet.”

Frowning, Vir unfolded the parchment. One hour after dusk, Chala’s Knees Tavern, Upper West Side Commons. Corner table, halfway back.

“No,” Vir replied. “This sounds dangerous. You want me to meet someone, but you won’t tell me who they are. What if this is some elaborate setup to take me out?”

Again, the Executor paused, and through that veil, Vir felt he’d somehow offended the Executor.

“Acolyte, you are still new to the Brotherhood. You may not know of our ways. You may not know that such a service is a privilege, and one that is not often bestowed. The Brotherhood rarely arranges such meetings. In doing so, we place our reputation on the line. Our global reputation. Do you understand my meaning?”

“You’re saying betraying me here would have ripples across the Brotherhood worldwide?” Vir asked.

“Faith in our organization would be shaken. As trust is our most precious commodity, this would be a death blow. Fear not, Vir. Your safety is guaranteed. Trust us. This is not a meeting you will want to miss. It is not one that can be arranged again.”

Vir mulled it over. The tavern the note mentioned was famous. At that hour, it would be jam-packed with activity, making it an incredibly risky place for someone to commit a crime. Not only would there be a hundred witnesses, the criminal would have a tough time fleeing the scene safely.

“You’re sure this person will have the information I need?”

“And more. They possess more information about Mina Hiranya than all the dossiers in existence.”

“Alright,” Vir said at last. “Fine.” This conversation was the last thing he wanted, given his current mental state. Vir left the booth with Neel and dragged himself up to his room. The travel and the tension from the assassination had left him spent.

But try as he might, sleep was not forthcoming. Vir tossed and turned in bed, wracked with nightmares of Rudvik dying in the forest. Of Apramor being hanged alongside his wife. Of Maiya burning to death.

Every terror Vir had ever had manifested that night, tormenting him.

Vir awoke before dawn, drenched in sweat.

Why? Why do I feel like this? Over the course of a single night, life and death had gained far more weight in Vir’s life.

Ravin had been a scoundrel by all accounts. Vir had the Brotherhood’s blessing. He’d done the world a favor, and strangely enough, he didn’t even feel guilty like he thought he would’ve. In fact, he hardly felt much of anything regarding Ravin himself. What resonated in his mind was his daughter’s screams. Screams that made his hands shake even now. Screams that caused his heart to race. That made him sick with nausea.

Riyan was right… Killing a man was no easy feat. Vir wondered how soldiers managed it in the chaos of the battlefield. Maybe it did get easier. Or maybe the part of him that cared just died after a while.

That scared him even more.

Sitting in the darkness, Vir listened to Neel’s rhythmic breathing as he tried to sort out his muddled mess of emotions.

Wonder who this character is, he thought, thinking of the meeting he’d have tonight to distract himself.

Vir wasn’t about to leave anything to chance. He trusted the Brotherhood, yes, but after his Saran trip with Maiya, Vir had learned to plan for contingencies. Even when the situation hardly called for it.

Thankfully, he had the perfect tools for that job. Dance of the Shadow Demon would allow him to spy on the table from the safety of the Shadow Realm. Prana Vision would tell him all he needed to know about this confidante’s magical abilities.

He’d scout the target first, and only then decide whether or not to meet this person.

Dawn took its time coming. When it finally did, Vir left the room bleary eyed and tired with Neel and headed downstairs to the armorer’s shop to pick up his tailored bracer and greaves.

“Mmm, yes, the fit is good,” the bald hooded man said, feeling Vir’s arms and shins once he’d donned the armor. Vir agreed; the fit was near-perfect. He still felt the armor’s weight, but it hindered him far less than it had yesterday, before the alterations.

“Your sharpened chakrams and chakris will be ready for pickup in a few hours. And visit me when you want that armor painted black. Can’t guarantee paint will last very long if you take many hits, but it’s easy enough to touch back up after a scrape.”

“Will do,” Vir said with a nod, leaving the shop. “C’mon boy. Let’s go get some fresh air.”

Neel replied with an excited Arooo, shaking his tail with vigor.

A potted planter with fresh soil caught Vir’s eye as he walked through the Brotherhood courtyard. While he was thankful that the armor was slim enough to be concealed under his robes, as an added precaution, he stopped to smear mud on it. Now, it looked like an ordinary piece of clothing. He’d of course have to keep reapplying it, but it would do for now.

“Well, I’m pretty tired, but how about we go explore the Upper West Side area next?” Vir said as they exited the Brotherhood Sanctum. “We can take some rooftops to get there. That oughta give you some exercise.”

Woof woof!

“Oh?” a voice said, stopping Vir in his tracks. “Why the Upper West Side? Anything interesting there?”

That voice…

Vir slowly turned and saw Amin leaning against the Sanctum building, his arms crossed.

Chills went down Vir’s back. A thousand thoughts broke out in his head. Mina Hiranya!?

“What’s wrong with you?” Mina said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I, uh, had a rough night. Brotherhood business,” Vir said, remembering his acting training. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

“Yeah! I can tell. You look like a ghost.”

Vir had given much thought to how he’d interact with Amin, and had ultimately decided it best to stay away from the boy—from the princess. Knowing what he knew, he’d be hard pressed to keep up his act for long. Against someone like princess Mina, who was, quite obviously, a master of subterfuge herself, Vir had little confidence.

“So anyway, why the Upper West Side district? Something to do with Riyan’s mission? You never told me what he wants you to do, by the way.”

Vir thought very carefully about his words. Mina—Amin—knew Vir was Riyan’s agent, so outright denying that his mission had anything to do with princess Mina would be a bad idea. The princess’s feud with Riyan ran deep. Very deep. If he’d sent an agent, it could only be for her. Then again, admitting that he was here to kill the princess also felt like a horrible plan.

In fact, he couldn’t understand why Mina hadn’t taken action against him yet. She must know that he was a danger to her. So why take the risk? Why not send her royal guard to kill him in his sleep?

Does she want something from me? Or maybe she’s not as evil as I’m making her out to be…

“What, erm, what do you know of Princess Mina?” Vir said, carefully eyeing her reaction. He decided that admitting his mission had to do with the princess would be a good play here. He didn’t outright say he was here to kill her, and he could hint that he was uncertain about going through with Riyan’s plan. Perhaps then, she might open up to him.

Amin frowned. “That chal. Hate her. Can’t stand her.”

Vir was taken aback. “Why? She seems nice, doesn’t she?”

“She’s perfect. Too perfect. Anyone that beautiful and generous has a side they’re trying to hide, lemme tell you.”

Why’s she saying these things!? Vir simply couldn’t understand Mina’s plan. Vir doubted she knew that he’d caught on to her true identity. Shouldn’t she sing praises about the princess to win Vir to her side?

“Y-you think so?” Vir replied. “To be honest, I’m not fully onboard with Riyan’s plan. I was hoping for a chance to talk to her. I think we might be able to help each other out,” he said.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Amin said with a snort.

“You can’t help arrange a meeting?” Vir asked.

“No way no how. Forget it. My connections don’t run that deep. Maybe I could arrange something if it was a low ranking ‘risto, but the princess? You gotta be crazy.”

“Right, figures,” Vir replied. Nothing she said made any sense to him, which put him on guard. “Anyway, it was nice chatting. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. For now, I just need to keep doing Brotherhood contracts to pay the bills. It’ll be a while before I decide on what to do with Riyan’s plan. Hoping to wiggle out of it, if possible.”

“Gotcha. Welp, just lemme know. Happy to help ya. Cya around!” Mina said as she walked off, waving a hand.

Once again, he’d thrown her a bone. Once again, she’d ignored it.

Awooo! Neel howled once she’d left.

“Tell me about it,” Vir muttered, rubbing Neel’s back. “Feels like I just took a few years off my lifespan.”

The two set out to the tavern. The day was still young, but Vir hardly had anything else to do. After mapping out the streets and alleys near the building, the two found a nice flat third story rooftop near the Chala’s Knees tavern. The position gave him a perfect nest from which to monitor the establishment.

The hours passed uneventfully, and after retrieving his newly sharpened throwing disks from the Brotherhood armorer and grabbing a hearty lunch of stir-fried veggies with brown rice from a nearby food stall, Vir settled back onto his rooftop. The midday heat soon had him drifting off to sleep.

Vir allowed it—he’d need to be at full strength tonight in case the meeting went south.

As the sky turned yellow, and then red, Vir watched from above. He noted everyone who entered and left, especially strong mejai. From his vantage, he could see everyone, but the distance made granular detection difficult. Only strong mejai presences registered. Then again, only strong mejai posed any danger.

Vir then shifted positions. He descended to the alley bordering the tavern. Having already scouted its interior earlier, he walked to the wall that butted against the table where the meeting would happen.

He remained there until a half hour after dusk, staring through the walls with Prana Vision.

Then, finally, ten minutes before the appointed time, someone took a seat. The walls contained a slight amount of Earth prana, but nothing that interfered with Vir’s senses.

Weak, Vir concluded. This guy’s weak!

The man possessed a very slight affinity for Earth prana, but Vir doubted it was enough to use Talents. Perhaps Leap, but nothing more advanced. His blood was a cocktail of various affinities. Diluted and utterly useless.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat. The glowing orbs of prana at his waist did not escape Vir’s eyes. Four B grade orbs of Wind, Water, Fire, and Lightning affinities, along with another four C grades.

Every one of them precharged and ready to go.

Whoever this man was, he was loaded. He carried on him a fortune.

A ‘risto, then. That reduced the danger level. Sawai aristocrats had a reputation to honor. Pulling a stunt here would hurt the man more than Vir.

Besides, knowing everything the man had on him gave Vir an immense edge.

He exited the alley and strode into the tavern. The stone-and-wood construction was common for the area, with the tall, vaulted A frame log construction creating a cozy environment.

The din of chatter filled every corner of the room. Private conversations would be nearly impossible to overhear.

Vir noted the exits—one at the front, and another that led into a hallway at the back. Dance of the Shadow Demon gave him an exit at any time, but revealing the ability was his last resort.

Taking his time, Vir approached the table that butted up against the stone wall, halfway back. There, a brown-hooded, clean shaven man with black hair and black eyes sat.

He’s young, Vir thought. Younger than he’d expected. A Sawai nobleman’s son, then?

Vir closed the last few steps quickly and sat opposite the man. He didn’t give the hooded figure time to speak.

“Let’s set some things straight. I know your Balar Rank’s under 20. I know you’ve got four precharged B grade orbs, and another four C grades at your waist. If I see your hands move for any of them, I’m gone before you can blink your eyes. Understood?”

Vir had hoped to intimidate the pretty boy, but the young man’s response surprised him.

“Oho? I think I like you already, Neel,” he said, holding his palms up.

“You know my name?” Vir responded. So the Brotherhood didn’t give away my real name…

“Yes, but that is all. Why don’t we order some drinks?” he asked with a grin.

“Who are you?”

“Down to business, I see. You’re one of those types. I don’t mind that, myself. Very well then. I,” he said, pausing to look Vir in the eye, “am your best source of information.”

“You know what I want?”

“Oh yes. Now come, let us have a nice long chat about my little sister.”