Wetwork

Wetwork: Calpheon the IV

The resounding clink-clank of metal against the stone floor echoed through the lavishly adorned stone-brick corridors, "You sure you didn't hear anything? I swear things just aren't feelin' right tonight," asked one of the two guards, stopping halfway through the corridor and half-heartedly scanning the room for any sign of danger. "Must've been the lords' hounds, you know how they like to roam the castle at night," his friend offered no help in calming his nerves. "Yeah, maybe... I just wish he'd teach them to keep out of the bloody kitchen, they're always eating up all the good food!" They both shared a quiet half-giggle then continued on, slowly disappearing into the darkness.

Slowly a large silhouette formed in the shadows, the only visible feature being a pair of intense, yellow hawk-like eyes. Soon enough a solid, well-built figure emerged from the shadows, clad in black from top to bottom, with his dagger in hand he moved swiftly, and despite his large stature, quite gracefully from the shadows, making his way through the corridor and up the stairs ahead with neary a sound. He scaled the spiraling stone staircase, the only light being produced from sparcely lit candles and spots of moonlight cascading through spaced windows.

Upon reaching the top, a singular guard could be seen at the end of the corridor, seated and reading a book infront of the only door in the room. Without so much as a noise, the man clad in black seeped back into the shadows and moved toward the guard, traveling along and up the shadows on the wall cast by the various torches in the corridor. Now above the guard, he grabbed the pouch tied to his belt, emptying the sparkling blue and white dust below, within seconds, the guard began to snore, his grip on the book reeling as he leaned his head against the wall for support.

He opened the door into the Lords' chambers, the large room was full with all manners of art and valuables. The work desk candle was still lit and the ink not yet dried, gowns were strewn across the furniture and a sweet-smelling wine still sat on the bedside table. The bed itself was clearly fit for a lord, abundantly spacious and covered in fancy embroidery. He stood over the foot of the bed, simply oberving his mark for a moment whilst he slept. "You're here to kill me, right?" The lord sat up and moved to the side of the bed, dropping into his slippers below, almost as if he expected what was about to happen. "Sit down, don't be so quiant, I won't be Lord of this hold much longer anyhow," he chuckled, gesturing toward the table and chairs.

The man clad in black looked puzzled, but soon regained his composure, choosing to stand rather than accept the offer, "One false move and you die." The Lord audibly laughed in response, grabbing the bottle of wine from the table and pouring a flagan, "I die tonight regardless, lad. But don't fret, I won't serve you any trouble... after all, I am to ask you a favour, am I not?" For someone staring death in the face, he didn't seem too worried, "Ask to your hearts content, Calpheon." the assassin replied in a cold, flat tone, his blade still unsheathed and at the ready.

Calpheon examined the assassin, scanning him from tip to toe, swishing his flagan from side to side, "I'm not entirely sure if you're familiar with the intricacies of court politics but... there is plentyful supply of lies, deceit and disloyalty, all for a position in a chain which does not care for the links... Ironic, wouldn't you think?" Calpheon looked at the wine in his flagan, pondering his words for a moment, "More to my point... I've recently been made aware of the infidelities regarding my beloved wife and another of my own court..."

"Naturally this is to be expected, which is why we are having this conversation... and why I am still breathing." Calpheon stood from his chair and walked toward the desk, retrieving two blank pieces of parchment, a quill and an inkpot. "My request is for you to frame my wife and her paramour as my killer... you could consider it my final attempt to stop them from seizing power of my land and the like." He said with his head down, voice muffled against the desk, "Here is a personally written letter of assurance, legally granting you the right to purchase and own land in any region under my families lordship." Calpheon brandished the freshly inked parchment, gesturing for his uninvited guest to take it. "It also grants you another boon... the ability to, once this is all said and done, request up to 25,000 gold pieces from my personal treasury, signed by me and of course, closed with my seal. You need only show this to my chamberlain Georges, he'll start the preparations immediately."

Calpheon watched the man as he read the letter, "Not worried, are you? It's quite a simple task, after all and I guarantee you'll be well compensated for the trouble." The assassin turned his gaze to his mark, "Not worry... just interest. It's not every day an opportunity like this arises." Even through his mask you could hear the mans smile. "This second parchment is a roughly written Bloodmark, just so I know you'll uphold your side of the deal... even in my demise." Calpheon explained to the best of his abilities, "Do what you must, I always uphold a contract. Especially one so lucrative."

Calpheon smiled with a genuine sincerity about him, swishing his flagan once more before downing the rest of his wine, "Truvine Rosé, such a beautiful wine... Some of the best east of the Pontain, if you weren't aware." Calpheon stood over the Bloodmark, gesturing for the assassin to hand him his blade, "Well, come on then, hand it over, a Bloodmark is simply a plain parchment without the blood, eh?" Although reluctantly, he complied and handed him his blade, "Wow, such a quality piece," Calpheon exclaimed aloud, although clearly meant for himself. "Haven't held a blade of such craftsmanship in a long time."

Without much hesitation, Calpheon ran the blade across the palm of his hand, letting his blood onto the parchment and soon the assassin followed in suit. The blood splatter formed an X on the bottom of the parchment and after a moment, started to glow softly with a red hue. The same red hue enveloped each letter of the Bloodmarked parchment, "Good, thank you... uh, what do they call you, assassin?" Calpheon looked at his guest quite puzzled, despite their time together he never asked his name. "Darius the Black, my profession is wetwork. I'm no run-of-the-mill assassin, but I digress."

"Well met, Darius the Black," Calpheon looked at himself in the mirror across from the bed, adjusting his beard and robe. "I think we could've been allies in a different life, Darius. But this is reality, and the reality is I will die tonight, by your hand... so, I thank you for heeding the final request of an old Lord." Darius flipped his blade through his fingers, preparing his weapon, "I'll make it quick, Calpheon. You won't suffer." Calpheon watched with a solemn smile as his would-be killer approached, closing his eyes one final time.