The Guild was quiet at this hour when I entered through the main doors. No wonder nobody stopped me, as it was late enough for the main area to be emptied out. Along with the silence came the dim light as the fire in the central pit had burned down to a low, flickering red, barely illuminating the place. I nodded to the sleepy clerk from the night shift at the front desk and kept walking. Heh, he barely registered me with his eyes, but at least he didn't make a fuss. Fortunately, most of the workers were already accustomed to my face, and I could pop in and out at any random hour. That was the advantage of coming here whenever I needed something, and the fact that I helped out even with tasks most people wouldn't want to do, sometimes even staying late.
After getting past the only hurdle that there could be, I passed through the eastern counters, swiping the keys from where they were usually left, and headed forward into the archives. The backrooms weren't truly guarded. The Guild liked to pretend its records were secure, but that was only true for missions above a certain rank. The middle and low-level stuff? Mostly with bronze-ranked adventurers and their documents? Those were as easily accessible as nobody really cared about them.
With my goal set, I flipped past the bounty ledgers, past the record of completed quests, and toward the drawer labeled as the Active/Unaligned—Low Risk/Low Pay section at the back. Precisely the kind of category someone like Garron Veiss would fall into. Pulling open the drawer, I grumbled a little as no one alphabetized properly anymore, but I found him a few folders deep nonetheless. No adventurer, even if they were unregistered, was actually unregistered. Most jobs went through the Guild. And sometimes there is no other job but one through them, so... There had to be some helpful information here... I don't want to jump him without knowing what to expect.
Let's see...
Garron Veiss, age 37, bald. There were no pictures, but at least there were further descriptions for the records. There it is, a scar on his nasal bridge, possibly burn-related. Let's see what else? Affiliation... Freelance. Possible relation: A small four-man company, locally known as 'The Nails.' Addendum: Unregistered name. Marked for extra fees if requests for registration are ever to be presented. Possible rank: Bronze-tier.
Hm, hm... At least I got the right guy. Is there more? Yes, there was, after flipping the pages.
Known associates... Rallo Vint, Nessa Kel, and Don Breg. Names for later, if I need them, I suppose... As for the last page... Mental evaluation... Reliable when sober. Avoid when not. He tends toward aggression when abusing his vices, pressured, or left unpaid. Has had two official complaints filed for excessive use of force against non-targets during Guild-related assignments.
I was about to close the document when I noticed another sheet beneath it, stuck to it, which made me pause. Prying it off slowly so as not to tear the paper, I found an official report form.
It seems that fate is on my side because it was about how a certain gondola 'owner' who had hired Garron skimped out on the pay. It was a complaint form, submitted with awful handwriting, probably belonging to Garron himself. I tried reading the names he included, but they were smudged, and I don't think this paper was intended for documentation at all... Multiple essential parts were left blank from the outset, such as the name of the issuer, the dates it was taken, and proof of completion, among others. Only the supposed payment part was filled out, which consisted of a handful of gold coins.
Sure, buddy, sure. So he takes shady work and submits forms when he gets swindled? This is a Grade-A idiot... Well, it wasn't anything significant, but it was enough of a connection for me to ensure I was on the right track, and there should be no real surprises.
Copying the important parts, including the extra names, just in case, I slid the rest back and then relocked the cabinet. I left through the same side corridor I had entered, walking casually. Nobody stopped me, not that I expected it to happen. Outside, a kind of mist had settled low over the streets, making me smile a little as, once again... everything was coming into place for me tonight.
I now have the confirmation of my first target... So... let's meet him. It is time I leave a message...
...
....
...
The Broken Whistle was nothing more than a rotted two-story husk of an old house tucked between an abandoned smokehouse and the remnants of a collapsed warehouse. I'm not sure if anyone had the right to operate a business in a place like this... Not even that. It's the kind of place where rats outnumber the customers. But there was nobody here, probably because the type of dregs who come here were working at night.
Not that I was complaining. It made it easier for me to get to where I wanted to be. I found Veiss's place behind a warped door at the backside of the tavern, leading to the basement, 'protected' with a broken latch and a rusting iron handle.
I checked the door first, and of course, it was locked. Which also meant that he wasn't home. That was fine, good even. It wasn't a lock that was anything serious... so only by fidgeting with it a few times, as I managed to force it open, and then I was in.
It was a pigsty at best. A rotting pigsty at worst. Rusted or rotting floorboards, I couldn't tell... dirty clothes, dirty mattress, and a ceiling that was falling apart. I wondered how no patrons from above had fallen through into his 'room' yet. Well... no matter. I pulled myself together, hiding behind the hanging clothes in the dark at the corner opposite the door. Making sure that my hood was covering my face and my scarf hid the rest of my face... I waited.
Time passed slowly... And it was hard to focus with the smell of sweat, piss, and whatever else that was inside this... shithole. But, probably only an hour later, voices drifted up from the street below. Someone... shouting. Hm... They entered the tavern... Or at least, they tried. I guess it was still closed because they shouted even more, banging at the door... Then... The crash of a bottle. Someone is angry, huh? I kept listening as the footsteps, with a drunken stagger, got closer. But it was not only one set... No... There were two people.
It didn't take long for the door to open, and the dim light coming in from the outside was enough to make me see who it was. Finally... you bastard.
Garron stumbled in, clearly in a good mood, drunk as hell, laughing through his nose, his shirt half-unbuttoned. The second figure was that of a woman who followed behind him, her heels clicking loudly against the warped boards on the floor. Well, girl, I hope he paid you well for this round... But, judging by her torn, cheap-looking 'clothes,' she was the type that was just as bad as Garron. I couldn't gauge her age, but she was looking rough, with hair in a mess and splotched skin, and her expression was also showing that she was clearly using something hard besides alcohol.
No matter.
I watched as they shut the door and made it barely two steps into the room before falling against the wall in a tangle of hands and teeth. I almost felt mine tingle with how loudly they bumped into each other... Brr. He groped her, already going beneath her clothes, not that it was hard because one flick alone exposed everything the woman had. She giggled, one of the torn sandals she was wearing falling off with a thunk. He cursed about something, trying to unbuckle his belt while she bit his neck, making him groan again. Honestly... they were pigs, alright. Sloppy and drugged out of their mind.
They didn't make it to the cot, of course. They collapsed onto a pile of dirty clothes, grunting and groaning as Garron began humping her without actually even hitting the mark at first. Not that the desperate bastard cared about it, continuing, repeating that he had good money to spend now, and he would fuck her good.
We'll see about that, buddy. Taking a breath, I slowly pulled out the shortsword strapped to my side. A man is most vulnerable when he is reaching the top. Be happy, Garron. Be glad I let you enjoy your last time. As his breathing turned sharp and uneven, the moment he stiffened... I stepped forward from the shadows.
I didn't hesitate. I decided the moment I knew they betrayed us and caused Mira to get tortured they were going to die. No mercy and no second chances. I let everyone off the hook in the past, never confronting them... Fuck that... With a capital F.
My blade pressed coldly against the back of his neck just as he thrust forward and gasped, his pleasure quickly turning into horror. The girl didn't even register what was happening, totally out of her mind, moaning and asking for more.
"Don't move," I said, my voice masked behind my pulled-up scarf, making sure only my eyes could be seen if anything. "Either of you. Or you die."
The bastard froze first, which probably caused him to shrink down at a record speed. Whatever it was, finally, the woman recognized that they were not alone beneath him anymore, a small whimper escaping her throat. Her eyes widened, even though they were already wide beyond reason, staring up at me in a mix of drugged and drunken haze. I saw the moment she registered the sword, knowing if I pressed it through, it would probably end up in her chest. Sucks to be you... But at least fear is a good antidote against being stoned out of your mind.
"I... I don't have money," Garron stammered, trying to move, but the moment he did, I pressed down, letting the tip of my blade enter under his skin, drawing blood; he gave up on it very fast. "If this is a rob—"
"It's not," I interrupted him, "Speak again without answering my questions, try to move, or any other games, and you'll be dead before you blink."
Silence... Except for the woman's rising, panicked breathing.
"Who sent you to intercept the girl?" I asked, my voice coming out colder than I have ever known I could be capable of. "Start talking. I know you know... your last job, Garron. Do I need to say more, or should I press into you and make this into a threesome?"
Finally, he swallowed and began speaking, knowing he couldn't bullshit me.
"It was just a pickup," he stammered, trying to turn his head, but I pressed the blade harder again, making him moan but not in pleasure. "Somebody paid for a simple job, that is all! I was supposed to collect the parcel. That's all! I know nothing more!"
"Don't lie to me. You marked her."
"..." He flinched again... and as I redrew my blade, just a little, he began speaking. "They told me to... It was just a job! I paid with a scented coin... I think. Trackable by a dog. I... I didn't know who she was, I swear! I was told to use the coin and then vanish. I'm not into trafficking people... especially little girls..."
"Yet you still did it," I snorted, "Who gave the coin?" I asked, wanting to ensure I was targeting the right people.
"It... It was..." He winced as I moved my sword into his neck again for hesitating to give away the name. "Tonnel Vek. He said it was for someone higher up and that he was just the intermediary! I usually do things for him when he wants them off the record. Sometimes the fucker doesn't pay... But this time, he did it in advance, so... I just... gods, I just took the damned coin and made sure she was paid with it!"
He was panicking now... And he thought there was still a way out.
"Are you lying to me?"
"No! It is the truth! I swear!"
"I believe you..." I whispered, and as I pulled the sword away, I saw his body relax.
"If you want, I can arrange a meeting with–" He started to bargain, thinking there was business to make now, but not for long.
I grabbed his hair, pulling his head back while I shifted the blade and drew it cleanly across his throat, slitting it wide open. The next moment, a wet gasp escaped him, gurgling and clawing at his neck in horror. The woman screamed, but not for long, as blood poured straight into her face, forcing her to close her mouth. With that, I let go of his head and watched as he twitched once or twice while he collapsed atop her, convulsing, gurgling... and then going slack.
By then, she shoved at him, shaking, trying to clean her face and eyes, thinking she would be next, but I didn't raise the sword again.
"Easy," I told her calmly, "He's not your concern anymore."
She stared at me, soaked in blood, trembling yet paralyzed with terror and shock at the same time. She watched as I carved an S into the bastard's back, big enough not to be missed. After I was done, I just opened the door, stepped out, and left... Because there was one more man, I intended to visit tonight.