The vast Anglian wheatlands gave a serene and almost calming look to them, as the light of the moon brushes up against them. The usually bustling streets are quiet, but not unsettling. These peaceful lands are kept like this due to an uneasy alliance between two great Anglian houses, an alliance just waiting to break out into war. All it needed was a little push, one stone to be thrown; this was their mission today. At the very edge of one of the great lord's lands, lied the little farming village of Grantsfield; named after the lord's eldest son, who resided in the keep in the little village. Grantsfield was a prosperous, and beautiful little place, a largely unguarded one. It's position served as another purpose too, as a lot of resources to defend the outer garrisons were sent through the township; resources like gunpowder.
It was this resource that drove the four dark-clad figures that traversed the streets silently. One, an aged and scarred Anglian male, with the look and attitude of a leader. Behind him followed a pair of Qadir, one female and one male that looked almost exactly similar to one-another, had it not been to gender dimorphism, then they wouldn't be able to be told apart. And lastly, a white haired Isldar boy, hardly older than seventeen. Despite his apparent youth, he seemed to have encountered quite a lot; the left side of his face was covered in bandages, likely to cover up a rather gruesome wound. The figures moved through the shadows, keeping away from the main roads, they headed straight for the Keep.
A silent whizz, another, and suddenly both the guardsmen by the main gate of the keep fell silently to the ground, blood gushing from their now open necks. The cloaked figures snuck through the bloody front gate, right under the nose of the drowsy and lazy guards. The figures stepped up to the side of the keep, the female twin taking charge as she dug out a lockpick set. It took no more than twenty seconds for her to crack the lock to the armoury open. The leader gestured the rest over, as he seemed to be grinning from ear-to-ear.
"Kiddo, would you look at this. Just as promised, enough gunpowder to level this entire bloody town." He said, as a toothy grin stretched out across his face.
"I- guess so Sausage, but why do we have to? These people didn't do anything.." The Isldar was, admittedly, scared of killing. He feared taking the lives of anyone, especially those that were innocent.
"I- guess so Sausage, but why do we have to? These people didn't do anything.." The Isldar was, admittedly, scared of killing. He feared taking the lives of anyone, especially those that were innocent.
"Listen, kid… When you're in this business, you can't really feel all that much. You block those feelings out, or else they'll consume you. Never regret your actions, never feel remorse… We have no use for heroes in our ranks." He sighed, reaching a hand out to ruffle the Isldar's hair up.
The party would be over quickly, as the sound of an alarm would be heard. The guardsmen of the village began getting armed. They had found the blood at the gates. The guardsmen approached, the sound of their barking could be heard.
"Fuck they're here, and we're caught with our pants down- How many hooked ropes we got?" Sausage asked the male twin.
"Three, one's gone." The man responded.
The few moments of silence felt like an eternity, an eternity of uncertainty, and genuine fear. To complete the job, somebody had to stay behind, somebody had to prematurely detonate the explosives. They all looked at each-other, as Sausage pondered. For a moment, the Isldar was tempted to stand up, before Sausage said:
"Go, you three. I'll complete the job." Sausage commanded.
The Qadir nodding as they passed out the hooks.They bolted immediately, leaving behind the mentor, and the student to exchange their last goodbyes. The Isldar's eyes began welling with tears, slightly clouding his vision. He tossed the hook over the wall, ready for his escape, before turning to face his mentor one last time.
"I-I..-" He didn't seem to be able to get the words out.
"I'll miss you, kiddo." Sauage said, for a moment, a brief one, his face flashed an expression he hadn't shown in years, a fatherly, loving smile. This smile persisted, as the Isldar climbed up over the wall, and out of sight.
Sausage sighed, grabbing the torch from the wall. He could hear the footsteps of the guardsmen approach from behind, a man barked out a command; "Stop Thief!", but he couldn't quite hear it. The torch was dropped, and the gunpowder blew. He was alive for a brief moment, just long enough to feel himself be ripped to shreds.
From a different hill, the part of three looked, as the keep was torn to shreds, the fiery debris being flung about at the houses and fields close-by, the dry grass roofs and crops caught fire almost instantly, engulfing the entirety of the village in an inferno in minutes. As they began heading away from the scene, the Isldar thought; About Sausage's words, about the village, about his own actions.
He had realised it, for the first time during his training, he had realised it… He wasn't the hero, no, not at all. He was not chivalrous, he was not noble. He was a killer, an executioner, a homicidal war machine that worked for the highest bidder; he was nothing like Sausage, he would never be like Sausage. Sausage died for others, died for his comrades; the Isldar was scared to die, he would never dare.
"Darius, are you alright?"From a different hill, the part of three looked, as the keep was torn to shreds, the fiery debris being flung about at the houses and fields close-by, the dry grass roofs and crops caught fire almost instantly, engulfing the entirety of the village in an inferno in minutes. As they began heading away from the scene, the Isldar thought; About Sausage's words, about the village, about his own actions.
He had realised it, for the first time during his training, he had realised it… He wasn't the hero, no, not at all. He was not chivalrous, he was not noble. He was a killer, an executioner, a homicidal war machine that worked for the highest bidder; he was nothing like Sausage, he would never be like Sausage. Sausage died for others, died for his comrades; the Isldar was scared to die, he would never dare.
"I- Yes, let's just move on.."
