Smoke and Iron

Chapter 2-A Daring Assignment

Andreas

Her eyes are the first things I notice. Glass green eyes widening in fear at the site of me. In spite of this, she settles into a defensive catlike stance, though unable to draw attention from the wary look of her face. The look of every dredge in the Iron Quarter, ready to fight or flee to survive. Even her clothes tell me of a life of fighting and stealing.

 A beaten jacket fails to hide the items she has stashed there, no doubt stolen. Boots covered in gods no what and a poor excuse for a skirt, cloth so torn it could be mistaken for rags. The only thing that is not covered in dirt and coal dust is a pair of goggles hanging loosely from her neck.Thick strands of dark hair covered in soot surround her head like a black halo. Squinting my eyes I can see thin silver strands hidden beneath the flecks of coal dusting her hair.

"So," she says, her voice surprisingly calm, "you here to arrest me," her gaze directed at my belt of weapons.

"Depends," I say, "have you done something that I need to arrest you for."

Her eyes return to me, trying to make out the details of my face. Which is shadowed by the hood of my cape.

"Nothing that would need the attention of a Reaper," her eyes now roaming over my sword appreciatively, "now the Silver Guard is another story."

 At that the corner of her mouth ticks up into a mischievous smile. Unfortunately, I could not stay any longer, although I wanted to know what tricks she had played for them to be after her. Having been out patrolling the dark streets of this cesspool since dusk, I was bone tired. My limbs feel heavy as stone, and my eyes have begun to sag from exhaustion.

Pushing back the cloud of fatigue settling I say, "Well lucky for you I don't bother myself with their problems, so you can be on your merry way."

 She eyes me curiously most likely expecting a trap and a one-way ticket to her own cell. I step aside and gesture for her to go. Without hesitation she runs past, down the street headed for the line of taverns by the docks. A den for sailors, pirates, and thieves that make their home by the sea, useful for escaping from the law. A pain though for the soldiers responsible for their capture.

I head down the alley turning onto a wide road leading to my own lodgings. Passerby give me a wide berth upon seeing the cape that shrouds my face in shadow. It takes me twelve blocks to arrive in the Silver Quarter home to the soldiers of the crown. 

Who live in the gray stone buildings housing the barracks, armory, and stables. Shaped in a horse shoe outlining the boundaries of the Quarter. For Reapers, those chosen to patrol the more dangerous streets of the city at night, live in the very center in a three-story building composed of dark stone and brick. 

It also houses Captain Talber the man in charge of keeping the city safe and its citizens in check. A man of great repute with very few criminals escaping from his grasp. A man with a lust for order and a famous fiery temper to boot.

I enter through the wrought iron gates guarded by the ever-wary eyes of the guards. They stare down at me from the gray walls with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Passing through the gates, I am met with the sound of the blacksmiths hammering away in the armory. The smell of horses emanates from the corral and stables. With the creaking of supply wagons to add to the din.

Walking across the courtyard, I feel the watchful eyes of the many new recruits as they practice and drill. I can sense the fear from a few, many having been told of the deadly skills that a Reaper can use. Others stare at the obsidian handled sword at my belt, a weapon only given to highly skilled swordsmen. An honor that can only be bestowed by the king himself. 

Upon setting foot in the Reaper quarters, I hear the unmistakable sound of Lord Talber's voice. Intrigued I walk up the stone steps to the second floor and see him throw a chair out an open window. I pity the poor sod who gets hit by it.

 "Four months," he growls, "four months of that wretched menace robbing houses in the Gold Quarter leaving no trace or sign of him.

Already I have nobles badgering me at all hours to find him. This phantom, this apparition is ruining my credibility. Mark my words I will have this ghost of a man's head I tell you."

 His fist slams the wooden desk, causing the ledgers of reports to shake. The rage evident on his weathered face, his eyes red with fury which stand out against his pale skin. His hair gray and ruffled, is at odds with the crisp silver fabric of his coat and trousers.

"Yes my lord," Lieutenant Arven replies, "and it will be a fine example of what happens to thieves who steal from the nobility."

 His voice grates against my ears, sounding like the ever-dutiful soldier. In truth, he is a pompous greedy brute, a man yearning for the feel of power at any cost. A bragger as well always talking about his achievements and endless family wealth.

Surprisingly today, he does not look the picture of the perfect soldier. His hair and uniform are covered with specks of dirt that cannot be hidden against the silver hue of the cloth. I even spy small pieces of clay in his hair.

Noticing me, he turns with a smile of contempt. He thinks of Reapers as unmannered beasts, lower than the dirt he walks on. Or it could be from me throwing him into a pile of manure when we met. All it took was for him to speak and I had not been in the mood to hear his voice.

"See something funny Reaper," Arven says, "or has the sun made you unable to see straight."

Chuckling he crosses his arms thinking so highly of himself.

"Well unlike you," I say, stepping into the room taking stock of the extent of dirt and clay that cover him.

"I do not appear to have been rolling on the ground like a dog."

His face turns red, before he can reply Lord Talber barks out a laugh.

"He is right you know," he says as he composes himself. "Although I wonder if something else is to blame for the state of your appearance."

"There is," Arven replies, "some miscreant tried to kill me luckily they had bad aim or I would not have survived. Unfortunately, my men were unable to capture them. Though two believe they almost did, after the wretch was last seen running out the back of an antique shop."

Talber raises his brow at Arven, "Who was this would-be assassin and did they get a good look at them," he says looking thoroughly annoyed.

"A girl," Arven replies, "and no they did not but we do know one thing. She has silver strands in her hair that won't be easy to hide. We will find her I'm sure."

Sighing Talber dismisses him with a wave of his hand. Arven leaves, bumping me on his way out of the room.

"So," he begins, "how was the hunting."

"A decent one caught two robbers, a murderer, and an escaped con. Though he did give me a little trouble, so I threw him into the river so he could cool down," I reply.

Closing the door, I remove my hood, and wipe away the dust of the city streets from my face. Already my body aches for sleep, my legs feel as if I had dragged them across the hard ground. The bruises I can feel sprouting across my chest will hurt like hell tomorrow. Talber looks at me with relief, both of us glad to be rid of Arven for now.

"A busy night you mean," huffing a laugh he continues, I can tell the last gave you quite the beating. A challenge I gather you were up for."

"A challenge indeed my lord," I reply.

He pauses for a moment as if contemplating what to say next. He stands and walks to the window not noticing the broken glass on the floor, and gazes outside and to the castle beyond.

"One you met with no fear for your safety or life for that matter. If only there were more like you then I wouldn't have to worry about the hundreds of ruffians that run amuck in this city. Unfortunately, I must ask of you a task that many have already failed to do. If it is not done I fear that soon I will become the target of the king's wrath." 

He finishes worry and regret becoming evident on his already tired face.

"Whatever it is I will do it, for four years now I have walked these streets. I have dealt with men accused of heinous crimes and thieves that were slippery than eels. No one has ever gotten away from that I am sure of my lord," I say, my voice slow. My throat sore from the smoke in the air. 

Sighing, he faces me regret shrouding his face.

"This assignment will be a real challenge I assure you. One that you will have to do alone," Talber says.

"I'm ready," I say, "if your life is depending on this being done I am not afraid to do it."

Talber's face relaxes in relief. He hesitates then he speaks his voice now more serious and grave.

"Andreas I need you to find the Ghost and bring him to me alive. Then the king will drop the threat of my own imprisonment."

Clapping his hand on my shoulder he continues, "Can I trust you to complete this difficult task."

"Yes my lord," I reply, "I will bring you him gladly."

Taking his arm from my shoulder, he returns to gaze out the window. Taking that as my que to leave, I pull my hood over my face and close the door behind me as I exit his office. I head to the third floor that holds the rooms of the nine other Reapers that patrol the dark streets of Talvos. Nine other young men whose identities are only known by a select few, including Captain Talber of course.

The walls are made of dark oak while the floor is hard cold stone. Iron candle holders line the wall filled with black candles that illuminate the quiet hall. Oak doors lead into the five rooms that line it.

 I head to the room at the very end of the hall. One that I share with my friend Ren, whose goal in life is to keep me from dying of boredom. No matter how many times I tell him that I have no interest in his idiotic schemes. 

I open and shut the door, and begin the arduous task of removing and putting away my weapons and gear. Shucking off my coat and boots, I lay down onto my lumpy but comfortable cot.

I close my eyes, welcoming the darkness of sleep. Slowly my mind remembers the events of the day. The roar of water as I threw the convict into the river. My back banging against the wall, from being punched by a man who killed his wife. The stars shrouded by the clouds of smoke, and bright green eyes of a girl that I doubt I will see again.