"Kieran! Are you even listening to me?"
The assassin glanced up, disinterested. "Hear you loud and clear, Half-Blood," he answered, going back to cleaning his dagger with an oiled cloth, eliciting a frustrated groan from his companion.
The young man paced in circles around the room, his hands clenching the side of his head as if he was preventing it from exploding. Kieran lay partially reclined on the bed, comfortably ignoring the young man's aggravation.
The young man stopped his circling and faced the cocky assassin directly. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"
The older assassin ran a hand through his mess of black hair, and examined the young man critically. He was dressed in simple dark clothes, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows. He looked unhealthily thin and he kept brushing aside his straw-coloured hair from his eyes. His angular features, a slightly jaundiced skin tone, and ears that curled up into a point were indicative of his Elven heritage.
"No."
Another frustrated groan from his companion made Kieran smile.
"Look," he began, checking over his favourite dagger for nicks along the blade, "I got bored."
"You got bored, so you killed him two days early?" the half-elf said incredulously.
Kieran only nodded, which irritated the younger man even more.
"You killed him without me, and without even getting the papers yourself?!"
"You didn't need to tag along, Bren," Kieran replied, returning his favourite dagger to it's sheath on his belt and starting to clean the next one. "I told Rod I didn't need back-up."
The young man hid his face in his hands and sighed. "Rodrigo's going to kill you. This is the third job this year you'e botched because you're 'bored.'"
"Why do you even care, Half-Blood?"
Bren stammered, taken aback momentarily. Why did he care?
"It's a hassle for me too, you know!" He said, finally finding his words. "Now I've got to go tell Rod that we don't have the treaties, and you know how angry he can be!"
The assassin finished cleaning his weapons and stood up off the bed. Walking over to the half-elf, he put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Blame it on me. I can handle Rodrigo."
Bren slipped away from his grasp. "Oh, I know. I intend to tell him it was all your fault."
Kieran shrugged, snatching a handful of coins from his desk as he opened the door. "I'm going down for a drink. Care to join?"
The half-elf shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't care, do you?"
The scarred man chuckled lightly. "I'm a killer, Half-Blood. I'm the best at what I do, and that is murder. If Rod wanted to send someone to steal something, he should have sent you. That's what I trained you for. But instead, he sent me, and I gave him what I do best."
"You know what Rodrigo's capable of, though. Doesn't he scare you?"
The assassin gave the young thief an exaggerated frightened look. "Oh no, is he going to have me arrested? Kill me? I'm so scared!"
Despite his nerves, Bren couldn't help but smile at his mentor's good mood. It was a mood he hadn't seen much of in the past weeks.
"I know what Rod is capable of," Kieran continued, "but he doesn't know what I am capable of.
"Besides," the assassin ushered the half-elf out of the room and locked the door behind him, "there's nothing he could do to me that I'm afraid of."
The pair made their way down the stairs, ignoring the few people they passed along the way. Kieran took a seat at the nearly empty bar, and Bren denied his invitation for drinks and left the dimly lit building, stepping out onto the bustling street. The sun was glaring down at him, as though it embodied Rodrigo's wrath. The half-elf shielded his eyes with his hand as he walked, avoiding the crowds gathering in the market nearby.
He stopped at the usual corner, the meeting place he knew off by heart. An older man was sitting on a bench there, an oversized grey cloak pulled low over his face and draped around his shoulders. Bren knew Rodrigo wore it to hide his identity more than to ward off the autumn chill.
The half-elf approached the man, taking a seat on the bench beside him.
"What did he have to say for himself?" The man's gravelly voice sent a shiver down the young man's spine.
"He said he got bored." Bren admitted, leaning forward on the bench.
"I see..."
The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Rodrigo moved to stand. "Well," he said, "I suppose it's time we pay your friend a visit."
Bren could hear sounds coming from the assassin's room as he approached, the rhythmic thumping and female moans of pleasure making him exceedingly uncomfortable. He glanced at Rodrigo as if begging him to reconsider, but the old man's determination did not waver. He motioned for Bren to knock, and he did so awkwardly.
The sounds continued as if they hadn't heard the knocking, and Rodrigo rolled his eyes. Bren rapped harder on the door. "Kieran?"
"Go away," the assassin's voice came through the door, "I'm not alone."
"Neither am I," the thief stated.
"Fuck." There was a sudden shuffling from the other side of the door, and a woman's voice uttered a protest. The lock turned and Kieran opened the door, shirtless and haggard. A skinny young woman with short dark hair hurriedly gathered up her clothes in the background, and Bren couldn't help but watch her as she searched for something to cover her breasts.
Kieran narrowed his eyes at the half-elf's stares and closed the door a little bit to block his view. His blue-grey eyes focused on Rodrigo. "Can I help you?"
Rodrigo pushed the still-stunned Bren inside the room and followed behind, much to the scarred assassin's dismay. "Alright, guess we can talk," he said, stepping aside to let the pair enter.
The girl was now fully clothed and headed for the door. Kieran kissed her as she walked through the doorway. "Same time tomorrow?" he propositioned, and she nodded. He watched her hips as she left, closing and locking the door behind her.
The assassin held out his arms in irritation. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Grand Advisor?" he asked sarcastically. "Do you have another job for me already?"
Bren's eyes were drawn towards Kieran's body, to the multitude of scars running along his torso. The stab wounds and burn marks were emphasized by his olive skin tone, and the man's body seemed a temple dedicated to the pain earned from a lifetime of fighting. The young man couldn't help but wonder why attractive women like the one who had just left chose to be in Kieran's company.
Kieran noticed the young man's stares and reached for a shirt to cover himself up with.
"I don't have another job for you," Rodrigo began, flipping down his hood to reveal his face, "nor will I unless you do as you're told." Deep brown eyes watched Kieran pull on a shirt, glaring at the assassin hatefully.
Kieran ran a hand through his messy black hair. "And what is that?"
Bren could feel the old man's anger beside him. "Last night, it was to not kill the nobleman!"
"Yeah, I can't guarantee anything."
Rodrigo stepped forward, confronting the cocky assassin. "You know who I am, Kieran, and you know my influence. I have been cleaning up after you for ten fucking years!"
"Hey, I never asked you to!" Kieran rebuked, throwing back his shoulders and squaring off against the challenge.
"We had an agreement. I would use you as an assassin, pay you well, and keep the guards off your trail. In exchange, you had only one job - to do as I tell you!"
Bren backed away, letting the two men fight it out themselves.
"Do you want me to end that contract? Do you want the wrath of the city after you?" Rodrigo threatened.
Kieran shrugged. "I don't care."
Rodriego shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand you, Kieran. You and I have been playing this game for ten years." He motioned over to Bren, watching from the corner of the room. "I even let you train my boy. Why can't you just do as I ask?"
Kieran ran his hand through his hair. "He's not your boy."
"Stop avoiding the question."
Kieran remained silent, his blue-grey eyes staring the old man down.
Rodrigo sighed and put his hand on the assassin's shoulder. "You've been a good friend to me over the years. I've treated you like my own son."
Bren saw Kieran's eyes widen at the older man's confession, and the tension in the air seemed to increase.
"I'd hate to have the guards arrest you," Rodrigo finished his threat, but Kieran couldn't hear him.
The scarred assassin slapped the older man's hand away from his shoulder like it carried a plague. "A son?"
Rodrigo looked confused. "Of course. I invited you into my home and let-"
"A father?"
The assassin backed away, horrified and angry. The last thing Kieran needed was a father.
"I have no father." Kieran stated vehemently.
Rodrigo and Bren were talking to him, but their voices sounded distant and unimportant. The edges of his vision started to darken, and everything looked fuzzy and unfamiliar.
Images flashed in his mind, memories of a time long ago, before the little blond bastard ruined everything.
His skin prickled as he felt something approach him, and he lashed out with his dagger to stop it. His dagger? He couldn't even remember holding it.
Bren screamed - the assassin knew it was Bren, although it sounded distorted - as warm liquid sprayed against his face and body and spilled onto his hands. Whatever he had attacked fell backwards with a gurgling sound.
Kieran's mind began to calm and his vision began to return. It revealed him holding a bloodied dagger with Rodrigo's bloodied body lying at his feet. His mind still slightly muddied, the assassin couldn't figure out how the man's throat had been slashed open...
ns 15.158.61.20da2
