F-tier Assasin - Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

There had been no sign of the B-tier nor the D-tier Tracker, after Ashlan ventured into Irongate. Unlike the Oceanview, Greenhill, and Plaza districts, Irongate was an inhospitable place, with not a single park, marketplace, nor plaza. It was as if the sun that shone on its dark-grey flagstones and fortresses was an altogether different one than what lit up the rest of the city. The district served as Eventide’s main holding and punishment facility for criminals, many of whom would be facing the Executioner’s Axe not long after their arrival.

            The tug was pointing him towards the heart of Irongate, but Ashlan had little desire to venture in that far. It went without saying, but Irongate was staffed with some very powerful individuals. First and foremost was the A-tier Sentinel everyone referred to as ‘The Warden’, who oversaw the various prison fortresses from the wide tower in the centre of the district. There was also the Metal Affinity B-tier Wizard called ‘Jernsmed’ in the old tongue, or ‘Ironsmith’. And these were just the two that Ashlan had heard of, but there were rumoured to be members of the Bramblethorn and Goldentide families stationed here as well, due to some of the prisoners.

            The occupants of this delightful place were likewise no joke. The most famous was a C-tier Wizard, who supposedly had a Blood Affinity, and had killed so many people that it was an ongoing mystery why he hadn’t been executed yet. There was also an A-tier Butcher, who’d turned his cleaver on humans. He was scheduled for public execution in three weeks.

            Some of the ones that’d passed through this place, from gaol to chopping block, and which Ashlan still heard whispers about were: the S-tier Seamster, who for decades had killed people in secret using her superhuman needle Skills; the corrupt B-tier Sentinel, who’d been in charge of overseeing Northside and had used his station to extort vast sums of money from the shops there; the B-tier Courtesan responsible for strangulating an influential S-tier City Official; and the C-tier Gardener, who’d used his dead victims to grow his beautiful flowers.

            I wonder what the System would say about these individuals. Did they fit the right place in its schemes or were they aberrant creations out of its control?

            Murderers, scammers, corrupt officials, and such, were rare in Eventide, but they did exist. And just like the System used Assassins to prune its rotten branches, Ashlan had to wonder if such people were not made by design as well.

            But I’m losing track of what matters right now… I can philosophise after I find the Guild entrance.

            Ashlan crawled down from the rooftop he’d been sitting on, watching the mostly-empty streets he was to traverse. The only consistent traffic were carriages, and that was only because they could roll through the outermost thoroughfares of Irongate without needing to pass through strict security checks.

            As he reached the ground and immersed himself in the shadows cast by the sinking sun, Ashlan moved further towards the centre of the district, where citizens were forbidden from entering. He had once learnt this the hard way, when Frelly and some of her former friends challenged him and each other to reach the Warden’s tower and touch its walls. Only Frelly had succeeded. The rest of them had been caught and scolded severely, with Sentinel escorts following them home. If they had been adults, they would’ve been punished with fines or possible jail time for trespassing.

            This time I won’t be caught, he said to himself.

            So long as I don’t try to enter any of the prisons, most of the lookouts should be C-tier I think.

            The best lookouts were usually saved for the walls bordering Northside, so as to alert the city’s defences of imminent attack.

Just last year he had heard their bells, when a group of over-confident forest Trolls led a horde of Goblins to the gates. All the High-Rankers made for war had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that day. Those who’d witnessed the conflict still talked about how one-sided it had been. He’d only been able to catch the tail-end of it, but he could still picture the hills of dead monsters in his mind’s eye.

Ashlan slinked past the Sentinel patrols by sticking to the dark shade, counting himself lucky that the sun was low enough to cast long and deep shadows, but that it was yet too bright to bring out the torches.

There were three-storey-tall walls placed around the main checkpoint gates, separating the civilian portion of the district from the gaol fortresses holding all the criminals. In the past, Ashlan, Frelly, and the rest of the gang had scaled the walls to get past, but that was how they’d been spotted.

There are no shadows on the rooftops and I’ll be too exposed up there anyway.

I’ll need to go through the checkpoint… somehow.

The checkpoint was a large arch cut out of the wall, which held a double portcullis and a little guardhouse. The gate design created a space under the wall where the people on security could easily control the situation, while figuring out whether or not to let someone through. There was also a guardhouse set into the wall above the arch, from which the portcullises could be hoisted and lowered.

His System Contract’s tug was leading him past its metal gates, but there were eight guards manning it and not enough shadows for him to easily go through, not to mention both portcullises were lowered.

Besides the six Sentinels stationed there, were an Archer and a Protector. The latter was covered from head to toe in heavy metal armour. With the right Skills, he could probably hold off a small army by himself or take a full frontal hit from a Wizard’s attack. The Archer seemed to serve as the lookout, but he wasn’t really paying attention at the moment. Instead of doing his duty, he was talking to two of the female Sentinels.

With a Protector like that guarding the gates, I probably wouldn’t take my job too seriously either…

While Ashlan was considering what kind of distraction he should try to allow him to sneak past them, the sounds of a heavy carriage came rolling towards the gate, passing by the narrow alley behind a depot that he was hiding in.

There’s my chance!

It slowly bumbled to a halt in front of the first portcullis and Ashlan broke from his cover and clung to the shadows, before hopping onto the back of it. He grasped for a hold and ended up clinging to the bottom luggage rack on the back, which was fortunately unused. It wasn’t a great hiding spot, but it was currently covered in shadows, so it should hopefully allow him to maintain Lurk.

The main issue is the Archer. They have the potential to pick a Spotter Skill like Trackers and for this job it’s probably a requirement.

The sound of chains and wailing metal came as the first portcullis was lifted. The Coachman whipped the reins, urging the horse to go through the opening. No sooner had the carriage rolled under the arch than it came to a halt again and the gate was lowered behind it, effectively sealing us in.

This is it! Ashlan exclaimed internally, as he sharpened his ears to pick up the sounds of the guards coming to inspect the carriage.

The unseen occupants of the carriage remained seated within, while the Protector approached the vehicle at the front with heavy clanking steps.

“State your business in Irongate,” came a tinny voice from within his helmet.

“An urgent matter,” the Coachman replied in a tone that suggested he wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated. There followed the sound of something being unwrapped.

No, not unwrapped. Unsealed. Like a letter perhaps, or maybe a book with a clasp?

It was hard to figure out exactly what was going on, and he obviously couldn’t see anything from where he clung to the bottom of the luggage rack.

“I see,” replied the Protector a moment later. “You may pass on through.”

That was fast!

As Ashlan’s mind was filled with theories about whose carriage he’d just illegally boarded, the sound of the second portcullis being lifted filled the hollow space beneath the wall, echoing loudly.

Shit! They’ll see me if I stay here!

Trusting his gut that no one would check the roof of the carriage, Ashlan quickly pulled himself up and over the top luggage rack, where a travel case was strapped in. He dared not lift his head high, for fear of the Archer or Sentinels spotting him, so he slid face-first across the travel case and onto the roof, which was blissfully dark.

Staying as flat as he could manage, he pressed the bottom of his sandals against the luggage rack to keep himself from sliding back, when the carriage would roll forward again.

The noise of the portcullis vanished and then the sounds of the Protector’s heavy steps followed, as the man stepped out of the vehicle’s path. Depending on his Rank, it was genuinely a toss-up between who’d win a head-on collision, him or the carriage.

Ashlan was glad that he wouldn’t be finding out today, since the carriage quickly resumed its journey, making his body bounce as it rolled over the flagstones of Irongate’s streets. The clop of the horse’s hooves seemed the only sound in the entire district.

He twisted his neck to look around at the edges of the wall, as well as the incoming barracks building, dreading the piercing gaze of some lookout scrutinising the newly-arriving visitors. However, he didn’t spot any and decided to stay atop the carriage for a while longer, though it was likely more due to the mounting fatigue that he chose not to go the way on foot.

It seems to be going in the same direction I’m heading for now.

They rolled past the tavern-like barracks, before passing another just like it, and then skirting the outside of a small building that seemed to be for processing newly-caught criminals. Ashlan didn’t know what system the Irongate Jailors utilised, but his best bet was that each of the fortress-like gaols had a specific type of criminal it catered to. Those who would be facing execution for their crimes needed strict supervision, while other criminals were just here briefly, such as debtors, thieves, and other non-violent offences.

I still don’t understand why the System hands out Thief and Smuggler Professions… It is like it creates the problems it then hires others to solve. Almost as if it is simply bored and wants to see what happens. The Trackers following me today were no different.

The System decided to choose this moment to speak up:

[Everything has its purpose. Thieves and Smugglers are not exclusively criminal Assignments. Likewise, Assassins are not simply murderers.]

I’d be inclined to believe you if the gaols were not brimming with their kind.

Smugglers had a reputation, which wasn’t unearnt, of peddling Euphorics and unsanctioned Artefacts such as what Magical Artificers made. In Ashlan’s unkind opinion, they were a dangerous sort that cared not who they hurt, so long as the money flowed.

I suppose Assassins are no different, he mused. I wonder how it will feel when I take my first life?

They rolled by a watchtower of stone and Ashlan tensed up, willing himself to become completely invisible. His theory of the lookouts’ ranks in Irongate was being put to the test and he couldn’t help but think he was wrong. But, though he saw a figure atop the tower scanning the area and the vehicle he lay atop, he was not spotted. Nevertheless, the adrenaline made his heart beat painfully in his chest, but as soon as they were out of sight, the embrace of the shadows quickly calmed him back down.

A few minutes later, the carriage slowed before coming to a complete stop in front of a gaol.

Ashlan realised that the tug was pointing him directly at the fortress in front of him. It was a big complex, with an outer wall of large stone bricks, a courtyard, a guardhouse, and a four-story rectangular building that could probably hold three-hundred cells. There was also a Chapel growing from its side, wherein a Chaplain would no doubt guide repenters in beseeching the System and beg absolution from their sins. From what he’d heard, such prayers had no effect, but there were still many who believed in the practice.

How exactly am I meant to find the entrance here? he considered, while waiting for the passengers within the carriage to disembark.

A second later, the door opened and a deathly-pale scarecrow of a man stepped out. After a stretch, he closed the door behind himself and began walking towards the gaol, not even bothering to bring his luggage.

Ashlan felt his pulse quicken as he took in the man. He was easily two metres tall and had long dirty-grey hair. He wore dark-grey tatters for clothes and seemed like an omen of death to Ashlan’s eyes.

What’s more, as the Coachman walked around to open the door and look inside, he could hear his confused mutterings.

“Where the hell did he go?”

Ashlan almost wanted to point towards the shuffling scarecrow and shout, “He’s right there! Don’t you see him!?”

But then he realised:

That creepy-looking man is using a Skill to avoid detection, just like me! 

Perhaps it doesn’t work on me, because he doesn’t know I’m here?

Maybe he’s an Assassin. I can’t think of another Profession with that kind of Skill.

I should follow him.

Before the Coachman could think to check the roof, Ashlan spun around so that he lay on his back, then braced his hands on the edge of the roof above his head and pushed against the travel case with his sandals.

It was a heavy bit of luggage that wouldn’t budge at first, but, after repositioning himself for better leverage, Ashlan managed to knock it off the rack and onto the ground, where it landed with a loud thud.

The Coachman let out a surprised yelp, before immediately going around the back to check. Ashlan used the opportunity to crawl down the side of the carriage, before following after the strange grey-haired scarecrow.

The sun had fallen below the towering structures that lay on the western horizon, and his sandals did not make a single sound, as he strode across the shadowy flagstones leading up to the front gate of the gaol fortress. Torches were already being lit back the way he’d come, but they had yet to get to it here.

He caught a brief look at the gate. It was guarded by four Sentinels and there was not a single sign of the tall man who’d passed through it. Ashlan had no doubts that the scarecrow was a High-Ranker, based on his effortless Skill usage, so getting past a guard checkpoint was probably a cakewalk for him.

Over the wall then, he quickly decided and began to scale the six-metre-tall structure made from grey bricks. The stones were not stacked evenly, providing countless hand- and foot-holds, almost as if it’d been built with climbing in mind.

One of the ways that he had first impressed Frelly, was by showing the ability to chase her up the side of buildings and onto the rooftops. Of course, she’d nicknamed him ‘Squirrel’ as a dig at his style, but he was quite confident in his climbing nonetheless.

As soon as he reached the top of the wall, he ducked low to avoid detection. The wall was wide enough for him to lay down flat on his stomach and there was a raised lip on the sides of it, making him impossible to spot from below. He glanced around to see if there were any lookouts, but found none.

It seems they do not watch the walls once you get past the big checkpoint. I guess their focus is more inward here, to watch for potential jail-breakers.

It made sense, in a way, but it was clearly a bad idea for the Sentinels to place all their faith on one big checkpoint, considering that some Professions had ways of circumventing it. Several Professions had movement-based Skills, such as ‘Climber’, ‘Fleetfoot’, ‘Acrobatic’, ‘Runner’, and so on, which, in the right hands, could be used to get up-and-over the walls before anyone noticed. He was sure even someone with a High-Ranked ‘Swimmer’ Skill could enter the district from the side bordering the ocean.

He heard voices back the way he’d come and peeked over to spot one of the Sentinels asking the Coachman about his business in the area. Given that the Coachman didn’t have any passengers, the situation obviously seemed dire for him, but then he produced a letter and the Sentinel gave a quick nod, before returning to his post. The man waited around for a moment longer, before lifting the heavy luggage back onto his carriage and returning back the way he’d come, looking mightily confused.

Ashlan shifted around to look into the fortress courtyard on the wall’s other side, only just briefly managing to catch a glimpse of the grey scarecrow ducking under the top of the Chapel’s doorway to enter.

That’s where I need to go. I’m sure of it.

There were two Jailors, wearing brown robes with chains slung over their shoulders, patrolling around the central block. Although he’d never witnessed it himself, it seemed their Profession often gained Skills involving whips, alongside their various ways of constraining prisoners. At some point, a particularly-cruel Jailor must’ve realised that they could utilise chains in place of leather whips, and it was just about one of the most intimidating weapons Ashlan could think of. As proof of the weapon’s efficacy were the countless chain-related scars and injuries misbehaving prisoners always exhibited on their bodies.

I suppose fear is a pretty good motivator for compliance, not that a normal whip isn’t already scary enough…

There were also a few Sentinels and Jailors out in front of the guardhouse, but it seemed they were just waiting for their shifts to end, based on the fact that one of them was fast asleep, and the others playing a game of cards. Aside from the gate and the patrol, the front of the guardhouse was the only place with any lit torches. The rest of the courtyard was cast in shadow.

Once the patrol went around the other side of the main building, Ashlan lifted himself over the lip of the wall and carefully descended down to the courtyard, before slinking along the base of the wall towards the Chapel.

A bell rang out across the air, and he instinctively picked up speed, only to realise that it was simply marking a shift change. As the ones by the guardhouse went into the building to eat and sleep, new fresh-faced guards replaced them, immediately beginning to light torches around the area.

Shit.

They were coming towards him, the light they brought along eating away at the shadows he relied upon.

Trusting fully that they wouldn’t spot him in the dark, Ashlan broke into a sprint, though his sandals hardly made a sound as they clapped against the flagstones.

When he reached the door of the Chapel, almost the entire courtyard was lit up and he hurried inside, closing the door behind him as carefully as he could. The scent of damp stone and fragrant wood immediately hit him.

That was close.

The interior of the Chapel was smaller than he’d assumed, with a few wooden pews for silent solitary prayer, pillars holding up the tall ceiling, lit candles on metal stands here-and-there, and a small podium in the back raised a step off the floor. There was no one here but him, the scarecrow vanished into thin air.

The entrance to the Guild must be here!

Atop the podium was the Idol of the System. In most Chapels, the System Idol was normally portrayed as a beautiful woman wearing a robe with the hood drawn over her face and wings sprouting from her back. This version, however, was closer in appearance to the Assignment Idol. It had a child-like body, with two horns sprouting from her forehead, a robe with the hood undrawn and long hair falling down her body, wings folded on her back, and a tail fixed in a swishing motion. Her right hand was reaching forward and her posture looked as though it was asking for a dance.

Ashlan took a step towards it, instinctively knowing he needed to lay his hand on the Idol’s awaiting palm.

“A lot of visitors today,” remarked a male voice, addressing him.

He froze mid-step, turning his head slowly to look at a man leant against a part of the wall that’d been obscured by a pillar. The man stepped forward into the candlelight, revealing a white robe over a black shirt with a tall neck. His eyes were brown, his hair and stubble black, and he had a surprisingly-muscular physique.

A Chaplain. But of course, this is a Chapel after all…

Ashlan remained silent, lest his words reveal his reasons for coming here. He probably didn’t look like a jail-breaker, and his appearance was still youthful enough that he’d be able to get away with claiming to be a mischievous kid.

“Every new Assassin who comes through here has some excuse, but you’re staying silent, I see.”

Ashlan narrowed his eyes, realising there was more to the Chaplain than he’d assumed.

“Are you involved with the Guild?” he then asked.

“Seeing as my place of worship is on the precipice of its front door, how can I not be?”

Ashlan relaxed a little.

“Who was the tall grey-haired guy that came in before me?”

The Chaplain seemed confused. “Pardon? The person that came before you was Bjorn, cheerful as always. But that was two hours ago. Can’t say I’ve ever met a person like what you describe.”

That’s concerning…

“Nevermind then,” Ashlan replied. “Well, if I’ll be seeing a lot of you, then I might as well introduce myself now.”

“I am already familiar with your name and rank,” he replied, not a shred of judgement or ridicule in his voice nor expression. “My name is Aghi Faithful. I serve as a conduit of the System, of course, and help guide those lost in the dark back into its light.”

“So you help Assassins with their burdens of guilt?”

“And those interred within Trickster’s Gaol.”

Trickster’s Gaol, huh? I suppose that means this is mainly a jail for thieves, liars, and scammers then. No one here is awaiting the Executioner’s chopping block. Explains the lax security.

Ashlan ran his eyes along Aghi’s features. His tan was even, his hair was neat, and his clothes were clean and expensive, all of which spoke of wealth. However, his Chapel, the outward manifestation of his influence and power, was tiny.

He’s probably a D-tier Chaplain with rich parents. Chaplains aren’t known to make a lot of money, even those holding sermons in the Cathedral, so unless the Guild is paying him or he’s corrupt, he wouldn’t have the money to look like that.

“You should probably make your way down,” the Chaplain advised. “Your Guild has been awaiting your arrival since noon.”

“I’m sure they’ve already heard my Rank,” he replied.

“Of course. Assassins are rarely Assigned after all. There is an ongoing bet amongst them about whether you’ll pass the Intro Contract or not. For the record, I was betting that you would,” he explained with a kind smile.

Maybe this guy isn’t so bad after all, although he’s built like a Brawler.

“Well, I’d best get to disappointing them then,” Ashlan said.

“Before you go, I’d like to congratulate you on making it here.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a nod, then walked towards the Idol.

He could feel Aghi’s eyes on his back, though the man did not move from where he stood.

Hopefully they won’t all be pissed that I’m arriving this late, he worried internally. Though, in terms of first introductions, their expectations likely weren’t high when they heard I was F-tier…

Ashlan placed his right hand atop the Idol’s awaiting palm.

[I see you, Ashlan Grey]

[Welcome home]

The Idol and the entire podium spun ninety degrees, hardly making a sound, and revealed a staircase of stone steps leading down into the underworld.

How the hell did the scarecrow get down this without the Chaplain noticing? he wondered to himself, before walking down the steps.

“Good luck!” called Aghi from behind him, before the podium slid back over the opening, sealing him in.

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