It was apparent by Stilp’s awkward walk he was not familiar with wearing a sword. At each step his left hand would slap the pommel on his hip. But he did not expect to use the weapon. Three of Belgad’s chain-clad goons followed as he marched along a dark alley. Stilp wore the sword to make a statement, to show he was important. The three bodyguards were the real threat to anyone foolish enough to accost the group.
Stilp halted at the end of the alley, the trio behind following suit. The little man glanced out into the path crossing before them. The alley intersected Dock Street, which ran along the northern shore of the Swamps. The street was lit well, lamps having been hung on the sides of buildings facing the North River. Warehouses of various sizes ran along the wooden quay that made up the shore of the river on the other side of the street. Empty ships rested quietly before they would be loaded again in the morning and headed to points elsewhere along the three rivers that converged in Bond.
Stilp was mostly interested in a smaller warehouse directly across from the alley where he skulked. Light flared around the edges of shuttered windows, throwing shadows across the dock.
Stilp glanced from side to side, seeing the street was clear.
“It’s time.” He said stepped out of the alley.
The three armored figures followed. Each wore a sword on his hip and stout cudgels were gripped in their hands.
Crossing Dock Street, out of the corner of his eye Stilp spied a shadow flitting atop a warehouse to his left. He paused, the guards stopping too, and stared at the building’s roof.
“Something amiss?” one of the three asked as he and his companions glanced in the same direction their boss was staring.
Stilp stared a moment longer, then shrugged and continued forward. “Nothing.” The sun had gone down, and the early darkness had been known to play tricks on one’s eyes.
He marched up to the entrance on the side of the small warehouse, stepped to one side and pointed at the door.
The largest of the three rammed a shoulder into the wood, cracking the door and slamming it open.
Revealed were a dozen men sitting around a long table. At the opening stood a young man with scrolls of paper in one hand.
Stilp grinned. “Rush him.”
The three guards were through the door. The first shoved the young man back, causing him to fall into a stack of crates while spilling his scrolls. The other two ruffians charged in with clubs swinging. Several of the guild leaders jumped up while others fell back or hid beneath the table.
The three armored men worked well together, showing their experience, and quickly hammered down their few opponents. When finished, four guildsmen lay with bleeding head wounds. The rest of the guild members had lined up on the far wall as far from the ruckus as possible.
The young guildsman on the floor grabbed at his loose scrolls. “This is barbaric.”
One of Belgad’s men kicked out, knocking the young scribe onto his back.
“This is business.” Stilp stepped between his associates to face those of the guild still conscious.
None of the guildsmen said a word. The three guards stood looking ferocious, one with blood dripping from the end of his cudgel.
“Lord Belgad says you don’t profit unless he does.” Stilp gave as hard a stare as he could to those still standing. “And since the East pope is lowering tariffs, that means you boys have more to share.”
No one said a word.
“Do you understand?” Stilp waved a hand towards the guildsmen. “Or are we going to have to do this again? Maybe at your homes?”
The guild leaders gave one another nervous glances. After a few seconds, one was brave enough to come forward. “We understand,” he said, his voice shaking, “and please, apologize to Master Belgad for us. We did not mean any disrespect.”
Stilp turned to the door and smacked one of his guards on his armored chest. “We’re done here.”
Stilp exited first, the three bullies following with caution, watching to make sure there would be no attempts at retribution.
Stilp sighed with relief as soon as he and his companions were on Dock Street again. “That went well enough.”
The first arrow hit him in the left thigh.
Stilp screamed, dropping as the pain roared up his leg. His three guards stood over him, too surprised to take action.
The second arrow took one of the others in the chest, dragging him to the ground.
“Archer!” another guard yelled. An arrow crunched into his throat.
The last guard standing dropped his club and rushed for the safety of the guildsmen’s meeting. A slammed door greeted him.
The man hammered on the door. “Let me in in the name of Belgad!”
“That name will not serve you here.” The cold voice came from behind.
The guard spun. A dozen paces away stood a figure covered head to toe in a black cloak, a large sword tied on its back. Stilp rolled around in pain at the figure’s feet.
“You’ll pay for mocking the name of Belgad.” The lone guard whipped out his sword, slicing at air.
“I don’t think you are the one to collect”
The guard roared and charged, sword swinging above his head.
Instead of retreating, the black form stepped into the charging man’s path. The guard swung for the cloaked head, but the figure grabbed his sword wrist with one hand and his arm with the other and twisted, throwing the guard to the ground.
The dark figure stepped back, giving the warrior room to stand and face him again.
Through a haze of pain, Stilp watched his last protector rub at his sword arm. The guard had not been injured badly, but the breath had been knocked from his lungs, and the man in black knew how to fight, even without drawing a weapon. Stilp hoped his last guard would be more careful the next time.
The next time was sudden. The armored man charged again, his sword in both hands and aimed at his opponent’s stomach.
The shadowy figure waited until the last second, when the guard was within reach, then slid to the side and slammed a fist into the back of the man’s neck.
The guard rolled past and crumpled to the ground.
The black form kicked away his downed foe’s sword and watched to make sure the man would not be recovering soon.
A whimper from Stilp brought the cloaked figure around to face the little man.
The stranger moved across the short space to Stilp, the swaying cloak making the figure appear to glide across the stony street.
Stilp had been in too much pain to notice much of what had happened, but the dark figure leaning over him drew his attention. He grabbed at the short sword in his belt.
A blackened boot stamped on Stilp’s hand, breaking fingers.
The brigand screamed.
“Yell as you like.” The dark figure towered over the downed employees of Belgad. “There are no city guards within three blocks. By the time they arrive, I will be finished.”
The cold words made Stilp clamp his mouth shut. He tried to see a face beneath the black hood, but all he could make out was a pale chin that jutted from beneath shadow. His eyes shifted to take in the fate of his companions as tears streaked down his face beneath wide eyes. “You ... you killed those men.”
“Not all of them. Besides, they are Belgad’s men.”
“It’s murder.”
“Quiet yourself and pay attention.”
Stilp didn’t know how his attention could be any more focused.
“First, the guild had nothing to do with this.” The dark figure knelt next to the brigand, the black hole where the face should have been mere inches from Stilp's face. “This was my doing. There will be no retaliation against them or, by Ashal, I’ll make you wish I’d killed you this night. Do you understand?”
Shock had begun to set in for Stilp. He could do little more than give a brief nod.
“I am glad we understand one another.” The stranger stood. “Tell your master, Belgad the Liar, that Kron Darkbow is coming for him.”
Stilp’s head was shaking, as much from disbelief as from shock. He couldn’t imagine any man brave or stupid enough to want these words passed on to Lord Belgad, Knight of the Western Church.
“I will be watching.” Then the shadowy Kron Darkbow was gone, the swish of a black cloak the only sign of his passing into the night.
Stilp slumped onto the cobblestone street as the door to the guild leaders’ warehouse creaked open and heads peered outside.