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From the Ashes: Simmering Heat (ch. 11)
🕑 Added 2022-10-14 14:38:32 +0000 UTCMurder got a lot easier with practice. Both in the sense of the actual act of murder and the toll it took on your mental state. While the difference between one murder and a hundred was about a hundred murders, after the first five or six, the guilt stopped hitting as hard. As for the act itself? With practice, it became shockingly apparent just how fragile the body was. So fragile it was an honest wonder that people weren't dropping like flies every time they fell or slept a bit funny.
A heavy stone was clutched in my hands as I crouched to peak over the edge of a two-story building. The docks were always a busy place, usually bringing goods from the other kingdoms of Thedas, but at the witching hour, the docks had emptied out. Now, there were only wandering drunk humans as they emerged from various taverns or brothels after a long night of debauchery. In the night sky above, there was only a single moon that offered a pitiful amount of light while the night sky was filled with countless stars. The shadows were dark and heavy and without a torch, humans would quickly find themselves wandering through darkness.
My gaze found my target as he stumbled forward. A greasy man with brown hair pulled into a rough braid, a tunic that strained against his gut that told of a man that was used to getting full meals. His clothing was rough and stained but it had once been rather fine, rather at odds with the ratty gray rag wrapped around his bicep. He began to stumble forward, dragging a hand down his face as he walked towards a shortcut back home that he knew well. It was one that he frequently took. I knew because I had spent the past week watching him stumble in the dark, cursing and grumbling.
Hefting my stone as I overlooked the alley, watching the man walk. I just about dropped the stone when he suddenly came to a stop. Freezing in place, I watched him begin to fumble with his trouser laces as he headed to the wall directly below me to relieve himself. I heard him let out a deep sigh while I lifted my stone high, placing one foot on the ledge. The human pissed against the wall, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky.
Our eyes met against all odds. I saw his face furrow in confusion, not sure if he was actually seeing me or not. I, on the other hand, could only see the scratch marks on his face and neck. Deep grooves in his flesh that had yet to heal. Evidence that someone had tried to fight him off… and the reason that I stood here was because she had failed.
With a clear conscious, I dropped the stone.
"Wh-" he started, but it was too late. I had already dropped the heavy stone and it slammed against his head with a meaty thunk. I heard the sound of bone breaking, the man hitting the ground in a heap. His legs twitched, as did his hands, but he was dead. His head looked like a melon that had been hit with a mallet. I lingered for a moment more before I reached out with a hand and from my palm emerged an invisible Mage Hand. A useful cantrip that I would never not appreciate.
Taking a strip of vellum, I placed it into my Mage Hand and reached down with it to the corpse. I left the stone where it was but with a quick swipe, I dragged the vellum across the blood that pooled from his crushed skull. Just enough that the blood soaked into the vellum but not enough to leave it sopping wet. Reaching back up with it, I dismissed the Mage Hand when I had the piece of vellum and gave it a few shakes to help it dry. With my proof in hand, I quickly made my way down the building, dropping beneath a window that gave me a glimpse of a merry tavern.
People cheered and laughed, all completely missing me as I emerged from the back alley unseen.
Taking in a deep breath, drinking deeply the scent of fish and the sea, I let out a content sigh. Murder, as it turned out, was so easy. All you have to do is get over some moral hangups. I thought I would never get used to it after my first – I vomited and cried. I thought every death would weigh on my consciousness just as heavily, but, as with all things, once you get desensitized to it, it became easy. Simple. You could even find satisfaction in a job well done.
And it was a job well done.
Crossing my fingers, I used Disguise Self, another incredibly useful spell in my ever-growing arsenal. The tapered tips of my ears rounded out and I gave myself a bushy brown beard to match my now colored hair while filling myself out a bit. My work clothes were exchanged for a stained linen shirt that only had a single sleeve and a pair of flax trousers, my shoulders were broader and I stood a few inches taller. There was no trace of my original appearance at all.
I stepped onto the main road, rounding the building until I passed by the door that led into the Tavern appropriately named the Last Dregs. I walked past it, counting the steps it took to make it from the door, and checked visibility in the street to find that both were fine. Striding forward, I approached the body of a man named Wilhelm, though it was next to impossible to recognize him now.
Reaching into my pocket, I took out a strip of cloth -- a stained sleeve that matched my illusionary appearance -- and tucked it into Wilhelm’s twitching fingers. As if he had pulled it off of me.
Then, with Minor Illusion, I made a scream ring out. A harsh, shrill shriek that abruptly ended. I counted the seconds, the tavern instantly going quiet. My heart pounded in my chest in anticipation when I heard the tavern erupt into chaos, the front door banging open to reveal a handful of humans, all wearing a gray rag somewhere on their bodies.
“Shit!” I shouted, turning around and running away, sprinting towards a back alley. I heard cursing behind me as the men gave chase and one of them shouted out.
“Murder! There’s been a murder!” I heard and, not a beat later, as I turned into the alley I revealed my uncovered bicep. One that was covered with tattoos of mabari in a very identifiable style. “He’s a Hound! A Hound killed Wilhelm!” There was an uproar about that and I heard everyone giving chase. If I had to actually run away, there was little doubt in my mind that they would catch me, but I didn’t need to run away.
Sucking in a sharp breath as I turned into the alley, I dropped Disguise Self in favor of casting Invisibility and Pass Without a Trace while I crouched down behind a piss-stained barrel meant to collect rainwater. In a handful of seconds, I heard the men approaching, prompting me to cast Minor Illusion just as they turned into the alley, showing the back of the man I had disguised myself as. As if he were turning down a back street and running away.
“He went to the left! Catch ‘em!” I heard as a dozen men sprinted past me, determined to give chase to the Hound that they ‘saw’ murder one of their lieutenants in the Raggers. I waited for them to go before I stepped out, leaving the back alley and striding by the body that would cause a gang war between the Hounds and the Raggers. A war that would weaken them both.
Invisibility and Pass Without a Trace were an incredible combination.
Very useful for this line of work. Because of it, despite the late hour, I went unmolested as I made my way to my destination. The city of Denerim as a whole was a nice enough city -- cobblestone streets in the nicer parts of town, solid if rather plain-looking buildings that probably needed a new coat of paint. The streets were wide and inviting, though a fair bit dirty with mud because it was rain season. There were patrols of guards that regularly passed by in a well-established rhythmic pattern, keeping the peace and making sure that nothing was afoot.
Though, at three in the morning, all of them looked a bit bleary-eyed. I spotted my destination -- the alienage. The only official entrance to the alienage was a wrought iron gate that was guarded by a few humans playing cards. They weren’t paying attention to anything. After a long, harsh, winter of being forced to guard the gate, as winter melted into spring, those on guard were exhausted from guarding the alienage. The kind of exhaustion that came from doing nothing for most of the day and made you want to keep doing nothing for the rest of it.
The wall had hand and footholds carved into the cobblestone. It only needed a few because the wall around the alienage was only twenty feet high. They were well worn. I dropped my invisibility to shimmy up the wall, flipping over it and climbing back down, landing in the mud that splashed over my boots and trousers. Nothing Prestidigitation couldn't take care of.
I walked through the mud streets, a few wood boards tossed over the worst of it but each step I took, the mud threatened to claim one boot or the other. I clung to the long shadows before I spotted where I was going -- a run-down house on the verge of collapse that had an open window to deal with the humid heat. I approached as silently as I could, but the mud didn't make it easy. It squelched noisily as I neared, letting me see inside of the room. The window was just over a bed with a young elven woman on top of it, laying on her back.
One eye was blackened and swollen shut, her lip was split and her nose had suffered a bad break. Every breath that she took sounded pained, telling me that her face wasn't the only thing that had been abused. There were bandages scattered near her bed, dyed red with blood and poultices. She would live, I knew that much. They had found her at the docks after a shift behind the brothel that she worked at. Naked and beaten.
The one eye that she could see through opened and flickered to me, revealing a dark blue orb. I didn't flinch away at her gaze. I wasn't shocked that she had trouble sleeping. Instead, I reached into my tunic and pulled out the piece of bloodstained vellum. Her eye widened as her lips parted, going to rise, but I placed the vellum on the windowsill so she didn't need to. I offered a bow of my head before turning away, my gift delivered.
"Thank you," I heard her whisper, a sob lodged in her throat as I walked away.
I didn't respond, but I accepted the thanks all the same.
…
“Well done, well done,” I said, kneeling down and passing out slivers of cheese to grubby-handed rats. There were squeaks of glee as they happily nibbled down, stuffing their faces. “You all helped a great deal,” I told the rats, giving out the rewards for information. As I suspected, there had been a number of liars, but for a promise of a large slice of cheese, the rats had happily sold out the worst offenders.
“I wanna work! Gib me a job!” Long-Whiskers cried out, the slice of cheese that I already gave him, along with the extra serving, already gone in his gut. The cry was echoed out by others and I had to suppress a chuckle -- they were so eager and it worked out even better than I suspected. So long as I had a steady stream of food, and I did on account of the fact that I could turn invisible, every rat in this city would work for me.
“You want a job, huh?” I questioned, making a show of like I was thinking about it. I already knew exactly what I wanted them to do. The information that I got on the Raggers was reliable as far as I could tell. The info they gave lined up with what I knew from my own observations, and they informed me of a number of things that I hadn’t. Such as most of the Raggers living around each other in part of the slums.
“Gib job! Gib jobs!” Were the cries of the rats.
“Do you all remember where the Gnawed Noble is?" I asked them, earning more squeaks of confirmation. I had shown them the tavern in preparation for this moment. "I want you to follow everyone that goes in and out of that tavern. I want you to tell me where they go. I want you to tell me who they meet. Understood?" I asked, feeling confident. The rats had very different ways of recognizing landmarks and people.
But, rats were clever in their own way. They had a sharp memory and they could solve basic issues they might encounter. Asking them to relay what one noble said to another was outside of their abilities, but they could tell me where one noble met, who they met, what they did, and where. That information was useful in its own way. The Gnawed Noble was a popular upscale tavern that nobles frequented to discuss business. It wouldn't be a perfect hub of information, but it would be an interesting start.
Satisfied that the rats understood their next mission, I sent them on their way. My gaze slid to a journal that had gained another fifteen pages worth of information that I would have to shift through. I had already filled up three separate journals with information that the rats had provided -- the pages were covered in shorthand and I imagine they would look quite mad to anyone else reading them. The names and landmarks were all from the rats -- Wilhelm had been Stompy-Crying-Drunk-Foul-Arse, and the Last Dreg was Stingy-but-Plentiful-Under-Floorboard-Place-Where-People-Drink-A Lot-and-Be-Loud. Some names overlapped and it was a maddening web to puzzle out, but after three long months, I more or less had most of it down.
The page that it was open on was covered in notes and potential leads. However, one note was short and simple -- Vault, and it was underlined twice. Grabbing my journal, I left the abandoned building where I used to meet up with my rat spies. I would need to touch base with my cat spies as well. I would like to get some dog ones, but so far, it had been a hit and a miss. No Mabari was willing to sell out their master, even with the information they might not deem important. However, lesser breeds of dogs were happy to for a lamb chop.
The docks were back in full swing as soon as winter was over. The chill in the air hadn't quite vanished, but the snow was nowhere to be seen because the clouds above were busy pouring rain. Despite the harsh weather, ships once again occupied the docks as ships came in to sell food at huge markups or trade goods like furs left the docks to be sent to places like Kirkwall or Cumberland or Orlais. The area was filled with laborers once again that loaded and unloaded ships, just as I had what felt like a lifetime ago.
The ship hands were mostly human, much to my displeasure. After winter, a number of elves turned to the docks in hopes that their jobs would be there waiting for them, only to find that the occupation was given to a human. Even bartering for less pay hadn't worked for many.
It wasn't just ship hands that were out in force. "Shove off, knife ear," a man spat at me, wearing a gray rag around his neck. He was backed with five others, the rest of them eyeing the Hounds, who were out in force on another dock. All of them were thugs, but the Hounds were easily marked by their tribalistic Mabari tattoos that reminded me of the tattoos that I saw on Avvar tribesmen. I did as bid, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender, and moved along. It had only been a handful of hours, but the Hounds and Raggers were already posturing.
I saw them everywhere in the slums. If I hadn't known about buildings and stores under their protection before, then I would because each of them had a half dozen men guarding it to deter any attack from one side or the other. Both gangs were posturing to protect their territory. It wasn't a war yet between the two already rival gangs, but it was brewing.
I slunk back to the Rabbit's territory. The territory that had expanded ever so slightly in the past three weeks. The dingy alley remained the heart of it, but we had expanded to gain the territory that led up to the dingy alley, which had a brothel that was owned by Tanya, and thus, me.
The Blushing Maid was an ill-suited name for a brothel, I thought as I approached. There were six Rabbits standing guard, acting as bouncers that greeted me as I strode by them. The interior was shabby and dimly lit, the door was made of dirt, the 'rooms' were curtains done up to give the illusion of privacy and from the sounds of it, more than a few were filled. As the crass would put it, the Blushing Maid was for copper penny whores. All of whom were elven, as were all of the patrons. Not everyone was a Rabbit, but most were.
"Azoth!" "Boss!" In a jumble, everyone greeted me as I entered the Maid. I waved them off, meeting the eyes of the Madam of the establishment -- an old elven whore named Vaeana -- who smiled and nodded at me, a knowing glimmer in her dark green eyes. I returned the nod before heading to the back room that served as my personal office.
Shianni was waiting for me in it, "The Hounds and Raggers are at each other's throats," she told me as I stepped inside.
"I'm aware."
"We should attack them," Shianni boldly declared, earning a cocked eyebrow from me. Shianni lost her hesitation after taking part in Ardan's murder. I'd say that she had found a taste for human blood, but she wasn't the one sneaking off in the middle of the night to murder humans.
"Which one?" I asked, looking around my office. It was a poor one. Dirt floors, a few shelves on the walls that were lined with books, and my desk was a handful of boards hammered together.
"Either. Both," Shianni voiced, crossing her arms. "We have the numbers for them. The humans cutting us off from work drove plenty of elves right to us," she pointed out, and she was right about that. Which brought me to one of the reasons I was here.
"Any word from Durian?" I asked, looking to Shianni to see that she was rather cross I didn't instantly order the attack. She crossed her arms, her lips thinning, but she nodded.
"He sent his usual report. Nothing's happening with Tanya," Shianni informed, offering an uncaring shrug. That was good news. "She's being a really good prisoner. She hasn't even tried to sneak a letter past her bodyguards," Shianni added.
As Tanya's bodyguards were rather unfortunately killed, I had arranged for replacements. Durian and five others 'guarded' Tanya in her nice mansion home. They read her letters. They were there during her meetings. They looked after her as she slept. They made sure that Tanya didn't take a single step out of line and were a constant, ever-looming, reminder of my threat. Thus far, she remained obedient. Even after I had her married to Ardan, post mortem, so that when he 'died' from a bad fall a month later, she inherited his holdings.
"They haven't been tested," I reminded Shianni. The work shortage, the lockdown of the alienage, between the two of them, there were a lot of elves that had empty pockets and empty bellies. And as well as I fed the rats and cats in the city, it was nothing compared to how I fed the alienage. Throughout the winter, I had food smuggled into the alienage, enough for communal soup kitchens, that prevented anyone from starving despite Arl Urien's best attempts. It was that, and the newfound wealth that the Rabbits showed off, that attracted a large number of elves to the gang.
Three months ago, we had thirty members. Today, we had a hundred and thirty, making us the largest elven gang in Denerim overnight. The elven thieves guild and other cutpurse gangs signed up wholesale. I'm pretty sure I ran half of the thieves in Denerim at this point. Smaller gangs, like the Darts or the Dales, who resisted our initial invitations merged with the Rabbits. Their territory was abandoned, the scraps that they were, to consolidate in the slums.
"So test them," Shianni argued, earning a flat look from me.
"Why didn't I think of that?" I asked, my tone sarcastic, and earned a roll of her eyes. "Shianni, I'm betting half of them don't have the stomach for this. They signed on because they saw easy money and protection. Of that half, half of 'em are going to run the first time it comes to shanks being drawn." The thirty that had ripped Ardan apart had become the core of the Rabbits. Them, I knew I could trust to get blood on their hands. The hundred others that called themselves Rabbits? Fairweather gang members until proven otherwise. "I have a plan for them, but it's not time yet."
Shianni let out a sigh, "When will it be, Azoth?" She asked me, her tone betraying her impatience.
"When the Hounds and Raggers rip into each other," I answered, earning a frown from Shianni.
"That'll just mean the Blighters sweep in," she pointed out, and rightly so. The Hounds, Raggers, and Blighters all controlled huge swathes of the slums and the docks. They controlled the smuggling, the thieving, collecting protection money, and ran businesses throughout Denerim. They were the three most notable gangs in the city, though hardly the only ones. The Blighters, however, were by far the largest, beating out the Raggers and Hounds put together. They had connections with the Carta, a dwarven race gang that had connections throughout Thedas.
The Rabbits, in theory, had more men than the Raggers. The Hounds, not so much.
"Doesn't matter. We won't be going for any of 'em," I told Shianni, earning a look of surprise. I gave her a deadly smirk. "They're the biggest gangs, sure, but we don't need to start swinging at them. When the Hounds and Raggers go to war, we're going to crush the-" I started, only to be interrupted by the door to my office swinging open, revealing a wide-eyed Soris.
"The Hounds and Raggers are at war! They're tearing each other apart down at the docks!" Soris exclaimed, earning a blink of surprise from me.
Huh. I guess Wilhelm was better liked than I thought. "That was fast," I muttered, standing up. "I want everyone here. Now," I told Soris, earning a nod from him before he darted back out. Shianni watched him go before she narrowed her eyes at me.
"Who are we going to crush?" She asked and I responded by going into the corner of my office and opening up a trunk. Inside of it were pieces of soapstone.
"Everyone else."
…
I had a model of Denerim and I tried not to smirk at how impressed everyone seemed by it. The Maid was full to bursting, the first thirty of the Rabbits here along with as many fairweather members that could fit. I had begun the project when I found Skip still trying to sell the last of the Galahad figurines I had made for as little as a copper, reminding me of what Mold Earth could be used for.
"When did you find the time to do this?" Soris breathed, running his fingers over the docks of Denerim. There was a general murmur of approval at the craftsmanship.
"I don't sleep much," I answered, looking over the diagram of the city. It was lacking in detail in some parts, but I spent many nights wandering the city to avoid going to sleep, my sleep plagued by demons of all kinds. The slums were molded in such detail that even the barrels and crates in the street were accurate. The Market Square was also highly detailed, as were the docks. The noble estates, however, were simple buildings while the Royal Palace and Fort Drakon were half-carved chunks of soapstone.
Around the slums were tokens that indicated whose territory belonged to who. Despite how firm of a grip the Blighters had, even between them, the Hounds, and the Raggers, I would say most of Denerim didn't belong to them. Where their control was tight, it was tight, but there were hundreds of Street Kings in Denerim that ran every street between them. Some streets were better than others, but they were parts of the city that the Blighters, Hounds, or Raggers wouldn't or couldn't take.
"The Landsmeet will be happening within the next two weeks and it will take place over the next two. Nobles from all over Ferelden -- Teyrn Bryce Cousland, Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, the Arls of Amaranthine, Redcliff, Southern Reach, Waking Sea, Edgehall, and Stienhold, and countless Bannorn are going to be flooding the city. It's every cutpurses favorite time of year," I voiced, earning some chuckles at that. The Landsmeet was where the nobility would gather up and discuss Ferelden. Laws, taxes, who was marrying who, and whatever else nobles liked to talk about.
"Because of that, something that only happens around this time of year shall happen. The Denerim guard, inconceivably, will go and do their job of policing the city," I continued, getting a few more laughs and smiles at that. The mood was light and casual. That was good. "As such, the guard, no matter the bribes, will step in to give the visitors to our fair city the impression that we are civilized folk that don't knife each other in the streets with guards that do as they're paid to do. Meaning…"
I trailed off, my gaze looking around at everyone, everyone watching with bated breath, "Meaning that the Hounds and Raggers will have two weeks to fight it out before the guards enforce a truce. By the time that truce ends, whatever exchange of territory, in large part, will be permanent. Now, you're asking what this has to do with us?" I asked, but I saw some people already had a suspicion. "That is because the same rule shall apply to us."
I reached down and grabbed a few rabbit tokens I made while flicking the tokens of our neighbors away, sending them flying. The Teeth an alley over? Gone. The Red Hands' a main road beyond them? Gone. The Wicked Ones, the Southies, the Donners, the Iron Teeth, and so on and so on? I flicked their tokens away while replacing them with rabbit tokens.
"Let the Raggers and Hounds fight it out. They'll just weaken each other. Maybe the Blighters will take them both over. Maybe one of them will lose to the other. That is not our concern," I told everyone. "No matter what, as the Landsmeet nears, the Guard will be cracking down on them, meaning it is the perfect time for us to expand while they're stuck dealing with two of the largest gangs in the city," I continued, placing the last rabbit token. Around the dingy alley and the Blushing Maid, the three alley's that we controlled would become a dozen and three of the main roads that lead into the slums.
All territory that neither the larger gangs wanted, but it would make a world of difference to us. The income would be a nice boost, but I was far more interested in the boost it would give to our reputation. We would be a gang that had numbers and territory. Poor territory, but we would be Street Kings in earnest.
"Over the next two weeks, I want all of you pushing territory when I say so. I'll give the word to push. Understood?" I asked, looking around, earning some nods. "We need to time this when the Guard is already busy. I don't want anyone being picked up by the guard to get a long drop from a short rope for murder."
That last bit caught the attention of others. "Murder?" I heard someone say, their face lost in the crowd.
I was glad someone asked. "During the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden," I began, my voice loud and clear, "the alienage learned a great deal about Orlesian Chevaliers. They're lauded as nobles and a distinguished order of knights. The finest ones in all of Thedas. But, we know the truth, don't we?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over the Rabbits to see thinning lips.
"Their last test before they earn their spurs," Soris answered darkly, his gaze hardening. "They enter the alienage drunk and they murder an elf."
"Or a family of them," I heard another mutter, his voice just as dark as Soris.
I nodded, "It's their tradition. As old as Orlais itself as far as I care to know. And there are thousands of Chevaliers in Orlais. Thousands of dead elves, murdered, by drunk humans that wander into our homes in the dead of night with the sole intention of murdering us." The elves had suffered greatly under Orlais. Far worse than what we suffer under Ferelden's king and nobility, according to our elders. Perhaps if I had grown up in the Orlesian occupation, I might hold that same opinion and take solstice in that fact, but I hadn't and I wouldn't. "This tradition… I'm going to take it."
Shianni's eyes narrowed while Soris' went wide. Before anyone could ask, I continued. "I'm not going to ask you to get drunk but, if you want to call yourself a Rabbit… then you will have to earn it," I spoke, my voice cold as ice. "You'll earn it by murdering a human and providing proof of the kill."
I could feel the hesitation in the room. Even if I didn't know them by face and name, it would have been a simple thing to pick out the originals from the fresh blood. The originals seemed hungry for it. Shianni wasn't the only one that got a taste for human blood. The fresh blood, however, seemed as hesitant and disbelieving as the originals had been before they were blooded.
"If that's too much for you, then walk out the door now. I won't hold it against you," I said, my voice ringing out in the unordinary quiet brothel. "However, if you chose to stay, then know this -- you want to be one of us, then you will murder a human, and one of us will act as a witness to it. The blood on our hands will be a trait shared by every member of the Rabbits. With that blood, we will make the humans fear us."
I stood up straight, "Now, stay or go. It's your choice."
In the end, no one left right then. The crowd was against them. A few dozen would leave later, quietly, where no one could mention it until after it was done. But, before the sun went down…
We welcomed thirty new members to the Rabbits.
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Kabir Kumar
Murder doesn't get easier. Not in cold blood
