Ghosts in the Pumpkin Soup

Chapter 8: A Late Knight

Hi, it's the narrator, just checking in with you. Feel free to stare into the pages and talk about your day. Finished? Okay. The tavern was as empty as my stomach after a night of binge drinking. Knight swung open the double doors and immediately made his way to his favorite chair at the bar table, which creaked and moaned under the weight of his armor. Knight wasn't big on drinking, but he considered The Rectal Prolapse a second home. He knocked on the table and something shambled in from the back room.

"We're closed—well, if it isn't Prince Aspen himself!" The Barkeep barked louder than Aspen would have liked, but before he could express his apprehension over hearing his true name spoken so nonchalantly, the Barkeep continued. "Don't worry, we're alone, closed up not too long ago." Aspen eased himself a little. The Barkeep leaned over on one bony elbow—because he was a skeleton in a dress shirt and vest, that's all you get for a description. "You should have picked a better moniker than 'Knight'! I mean, seriously, how many 'knights' do we have crawling around Inferos? People get confused. At least your sister added some flair to her's."

"Enough of your rambling, I've had a long wake." Aspen managed the words with a sour taste in his mouth, which came out muffled behind his battle-worn plate helmet.

The Barkeep tapped on his visor. "Take your helmet off. There's no one after you here."

Aspen looked over his shoulder to make sure there weren't any underfolk hiding in the shadows. "Are you absolutely sure that we're alone, no specters spying on us?"

"One sec," the Barkeep's eye sockets lit up like flashlights and scanned the chairs and tables, "we're clear."

Aspen sighed with relief and played with the idea of getting some fresh air but ultimately decided against it. The iron case around his head provided his only solace from the world around him. Aspen couldn't remember the last time he felt the grace of wind against his face or the purifying touch of a clean shower. He smelled awful.

"Thank you, my friend."

"Don't mention it, I've served your family for years. Why would I stop now?" The Barkeep said. Aspen wanted to crack a smile but couldn't. "Why are you doing this," the Barkeep began cleaning a dirty mug like all bartenders do, "all the adventurin' and helping people with their issues? Why not try and take back what's rightfully yours, like your sister."

Now Aspen cracked a painful smile. "She didn't know our father like I did. She's blinded by duty and a poor sense of justice."

The Barkeep filled a mug with non-specific beer and slid it across the table. "Looks like you could use a drink."

Aspen played with the mug in his hands. He stared into his reflection and loathed what he was becoming. Aspen sighed and poured the drink through the openings of his helmet.

Corvus Nokturne didn't like pursuing contracts with little to no intel on the target, but jobs have been dry lately, and he needed the money badly. He was a long way from his home in Yomi, but Corvus was desperate enough to jump worlds to get his hands on the big contracts. This fellow can be categorized as a type of Japanese underfolk, a karasu tengu to be exact; his face was crow-like, perfectly paired with a beaked mask, which was partially obscured under his mottled gray hood.

Corvus scouted the tavern where his quarry was hiding. He made sure that he wore a shozoku that matched the color of the surrounding area, which was gray as ash. Inferos didn't have a wide variety of color; the earth was usually black, gray, or mixtures of blue and purple. At least the grass was green sometimes. Shit, no time to be distracted now, his target just left the tavern. Corvus could see the knight had a few drinks, perfect... easy kill.

Aspen swayed only slightly, which was impressive in the weight of his bulky armor and the copious amount of alcohol in his blood. He caught a glimpse of something racing for his throat. He staggered back and was lucky enough to have the bolt penetrate his pauldron instead of his neck. Suddenly Aspen felt vulnerable, and then it quickly dawned on him. His aura was gone, and it left him open for a killing blow. Aura dispelling bolts were extremely rare. This must be the work of a seasoned assassin. Only his armor protected him now, which wasn't much if his attacker carried a firearm.

Another bolt shot towards him at high speed. Years of training in heavy armor kicked in, he was agile enough to spin around, and the bolt shattered on the coffin shield that hung over his back. With another quick motion, he spun back around and drew his sword and shield simultaneously. Corvus couldn't help but to be impressed; perhaps this wouldn't be the easy money he thought it would be. Aspen blocked the oncoming assault of bolts and shurikens that came from what appeared to be all directions, causing a clamor that rang out throughout the town. Harvest Hill wasn't a big establishment, so he hoped someone would come to his aid. Aspen liked to think he was somewhat well-liked around here, but underfolk were apathetic after all...

Corvus grunted. He was out of projectiles. Silently he swung down from his hiding spot and quickly made his way to the alley next to the tavern, readying to strike at the knight from behind. The assassin drew one of his two wakizashi from his back. He was half surprised his target hadn't attempted to flee yet. Corvus lept out to slice at the opening in the armor at his target's neck, but Aspen was ready for him. With all his might, Aspen shield slammed Corvus with such force that the assassin felt his aura waver.

He reeled back into a stone wall and knocked his head hard. Corvus cursed at himself. He was better than this. It has been a long time since an opponent knocked him off his feet. But before he could finish the thought, the knight was already on him. With a quick flash, Corvus swept at Aspen's ankle, it didn't knock him over, but it allowed Corvus to roll and dodge the blade that was about to impale his feathery face. Sadly for Corvus, Aspen took an attack of opportunity, and donkey kicked him square in the ass. Corvus tumbled for a few feet, but he skillfully regained his footing and readied an attack stance.

Corvus felt a quiver of excitement. Will this town be his grave? He lost the element of surprise; thus, his advantage was gone. His opponent's aura was also gone for now, but he was skilled. Deep down Corvus knew he had to retreat for now and return to slice the knight's throat in his sleep. But it's rare for him to face an opponent of such strength. Corvus just wanted a taste. Soon he had both of his blades in hand, ready for a good fight. Aspen raised his shield and waited.

Suddenly, a loud crack followed by a flash knocked Corvus off his feet. You could physically see his aura shatter like glass when he hit the floor unconscious. The Barkeep casually took a spot next to Aspen, his shotgun smoking.

"A friend of yours?" He asked after resting the shotgun on his bony shoulder. Aspen shook his head. "Nothing a good interrogation can't fix," the Barkeep approached the assassin, "people can get real intimate after a few days in my personal dungeon!"

"... an adventure dungeon or a prison dungeon?" As soon as Aspen uttered the words, he felt a slight shift in the air, and Corvus was gone.

Dammit, he should have never taken his eyes off his would-be assassin. Aspen gave his buddy a pat on the shoulder and carried onward.

"Where are you going?" The Barkeep asked.

"To speak with a witch."