Legacy of the Crown

06

The sound of a songbird rings out as I walk into Barrens Cove and I position my hands around my mouth, repeating the whistle. I hear the sounds of bows relaxing and arrows being put back in their quivers.

The soft sound of a waterfall nearby fills the grass clearing with quiet tinkling There is a small fire to the left of the clearing with men sitting around it laughing and passing around a bottle of ale. Some sit sharpening swords or making arrows. The other men of Jaron's guild, including Azreil, spar to the right of the clearing.

We are all Jaron's lackeys. Jaron is the man we follow and work for because we owe him debts. He picked some of us of the streets and gave us a home and food, including me. Some he helped out of bad situations. Some traded the life in his guild for a wish they wanted. Some came willingly, and that makes us forever in his debt. Should we try and hide or run, he will hunt us down and kill us.

Jaron trained us in the art of thievery, spying, smuggling, and killing. We are the most wanted and dangerous people in Salvian. He gives us jobs to do and we use our training to get them done and for every job done he gives us a small payment in reward.

Jaron is an assassin himself and only trained three out of the thirty-six men he has to be assassins too, but I'm the Master Assassin. The most deadly to all, even Jaron himself, and because of this, he keeps me on a very, very tight leash.

In the center of the clearing is a sandpit which we use as a sparring pit. The first one to be held at a killing position loses. Every meeting we have Jaron makes us spar to see who is weak in his guild and punishes them.

I walk over to the fire and sit on a log next to Bastle, who is in the middle of telling a story about some woman he stole from.

"-She was a fighter I tell you. Wouldn't let me take the necklace. Begged. Had to knock her out to get it," he says and takes a swig of ale. Bastle was one of the men who joined Jarons guild willingly. He was the type mothers should really hide their children from.

"Was this woman a noble?" I ask.

"Yes. The wife of a general," he says in a smug grin. The men around me chuckle.

Sick bastard. I never found joy in what I did. I did it because I had to. My thoughts are interrupted by men standing alert and all saying, "Master". I jump to my feet and stand straight as Jaron walks into the clearing. Jaron's black hair tinged with gray is blowing in the soft breeze. His features are a subtle round and his eyes a piercing grey. He's forty-eight but has a body of thirty-one-year-old due to the work his does. He looks at all of us with an air of control. The leathers he wears creaks as he walks over to the sparring ring. "Let us begin. Bastle and Rosle first," his voice rings out.

We all walk to surround the pit to watch as they spar. Bastle has two daggers that flash in the sun's dying light. Rosle has a bow staff gripped in his hands and at a fighting stance. Jaron waves his hand and they begin.

Rosle makes the move first by swinging his staff down to Bastles ribs which he deftly swerves and swings his daggers towards Rosles chest. The staff is trust forward and stops the dagger. Blows are traded back and forth and sweat gleams from both their foreheads. Rosle swings for a strike, but is to slow. Bastel kicks the staff out of Rosles grip and points a dagger at his throat. Bastle wins.

Rosel huffs and reluctantly pulls off his tunic. He kneels down in the sand and clenches his eyes tight.

I watch as someone hands Jaron the whip. "You lost, let this be a reminder to do better," Jaron says and lashes of the whip against Rosles back.

Skin splits and blood gushes forward. I close my eyes and count. My back is scared with the marks of being Jarons lost sparrer. The pain of them barely healing and being split open again makes my breath hitch. I hate this. 101,102,103,104...

"Get up," Jaron's voice pulls me out of my fear and I open my eyes. Rosle lays on the ground, blood all over him, dripping off his back and pooling in the sand. Rosle drags himself out of the pit and collapses on the ground. "Jack and Rakocy next," Jaron says.

The sparing goes on and the lashing continues till only two of us are left to spar.

"Hazle and Azreil next."

I look to Jaron in dismay and find a smug grin on his face. I always fight Jaron himself in private because he knows I'll beat everyone else. That only tells me that he must know about Azreils and I's small bond, trying to use it against us. I hated to admit that it is going to hurt me to hurt Azreil, but I must do this and I must not waver or Jaron will do much worse to us. When I stand across from Azreil in the pit, I know he understands too by the look he briefly cuts me.

"Begin."

Azreil and I both chose bow staff. There wonderful weapons when used right. Perfect for leverage and strength.

The ground is soaked with the blood of those who lost as Azreil makes his move first by acting to swing at my head but quickly sweeping down to try and take out my feet. I swing my staff down to block and use his momentum to swing both are weapons up and knock him in the head. Azreil stumbles back and I quickly go to knock his ribs but he blocks my swing and hits my shoulder hard. Pain spreads fast through my arm but I push it down and focus on what I'm doing. Focus.

The air seems to go silent and the only sounds I hear are my heartbeats. Azreils shifts his bow staff and I immediately see a weakness. I go to swing and know he'll go to block and leave his knees open, I pull my staff back and hit his knees hard. His eyes widen in surprise. He falls down and I kick his staff out of his hand and aim the end of my staff at his throat. Azreil lost and now he must bear what I hate.

Sound rushes back to my ears in a pop and I drop my staff on the bloody ground and walk out of the pit to stand at the edge with the others. The men regard me with fear and some regard Azreil with pity. I watch in agony as Azreil takes off his shirt, his perfect back that holds past scares of whippings is laid bear to Jaron again. He closes his eyes and I close my eyes as the first lash rings against his flesh. 78,79,80,81...I'm so sorry Azreil. You shouldn't have to be bearing this...107,108,109...

"Hazel come speak with me. The rest of you go home." I open my eyes to see Jaron staring in my direction. He walks toward the dimly glowing fire. Sounds of groans fill the air. I don't dare look toward Azreil in case Jaron catches it.

Jaron stands next to me with hands behind his back. The glow of the fire makes Jarons face hollow and gaunt. Scarier. "Tomorrow night, you will go to the monastery. At the sixth bell chime, you will enter the hall and retrieve a girl. You are not to harm her, but do anything you require to get the girl. By the eighth chime you must have her out and the bodies gone before the priest return from prayer. Bring her to me and you'll be paid fairly. Understand?"

"Yes, Master." I nod and turn to leave.

"One more thing Hazel," his voice cuts out. I look at him. His eyes bore into mine and I can faintly feel the scars he left on my back tingle.

"Yes?" I keep my voice strong.

"Do not close your eyes anymore. You will watch the lashing of those who fail." 

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Im so SORRY for not updating when I said I would. Things just got busy with the Christmas season!

I hope you're enjoying this so far! DROP A VOTE AND MAYBE A COMMENT! :)

Next update: 1/6/19

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P.S This is not fully edited, so im sorry for errors!