The depths of night in the slums of a capital

This had been a dirty job from the start, but Fal consoled himself with the fact that it would end tonight. He knelt down in the empty doorway of a broken-down hut, examining the ground. It was too dark to see anything, but he twisted his fingers in a sort of pattern and a blue glow emanated from his hand. His target had gone through here, no doubt about it. He ducked into the partially collapsed structure and raised his glowing hand for illumination. There was a rug on the floor in the corner, it looked out of place. It was very dirty, but not nearly ragged or rotten enough for this place. He yanked it away and, sure enough, a trapdoor. He let his fingers fall back to their natural positions and the glow immediately vanished. This sucked, he’d have to open it and go down there. An ambush could be waiting for him, there could be traps, he had no way of knowing. Fal took a deep breath and ran through one of the focusing exercises he’d been taught in battlemage training. He might have never made it to battlemage, but the things he’d learned still came in handy. He looked at the trapdoor again, calmer now. It was better to do it than to live with the fear of it. He grabbed the metal ring attached to it and pulled.

Fal made it to the bottom of the stairs and was once again greeted by darkness. He had not been expecting solid stone stairs underneath this wooden shack. Not in this part of the city. The armored man made his hand glow again and raised it. He was in a small stone basement that was largely empty, a dark corridor leading somewhere to the left. There was a body in the corner, clearly lifeless. He moved over to it and carefully prodded it with one of his steel-toed boots. One could never be too careful, but nothing happened. Fal crouched down to examine the corpse. It was a young woman, she was completely pale and cold. The neck sported two small puncture wounds. His target was close. Only one direction to go from here. Standing back up, Fal headed down the corridor.

He had killed the light out of caution and was feeling his way along the wall in complete darkness. One hand on the wall, one on his sword hilt. There was talk coming from up ahead, he did his best to move quietly, not an easy task with steel on your feet. He reached a corner; light was coming from around it. Leaning forward to peek, he saw two figures illuminated by torchlight. Shit, he was supposed to be hunting a lone nightblood, not a pair of the fuckers. He ran through another mental exercise. It was better to do it than to live with the fear of it. Fal drew his sword and slipped around the corner.

The cursed things spotted him almost immediately. It would have been easy for them to flee, there were other ways out, but they were as cocky as he had counted on them being. There were two of them, and most humans wouldn’t stand a chance against even a single nightblood. They were about to be surprised. “What is this, a meal coming into our lair? How delightful!” The other nightblood laughed, but quickly stopped when a bolt of lightning struck her chest, sending her flying into the wall. Her companion howled and charged at Fal. He adopted a stable stance and put up his sword. Just before the male nightblood reached him, he spoke a single word, and his blade erupted into flames. The beast flinched, and that gave him the opening he needed. He swung, his strike was true, a head went flying. The female had gotten back up by now and had realized her situation. She looked panicked. “Please, please. I will leave, I will never return I-“ He extended his arm, snapping it out in front of him, and a second bolt of lightning shot out of his finger, hitting her square in the face this time. She smashed into the wall again and crumpled to the floor, still alive. He walked over and cleanly decapitated her too.

Back on the slum streets, Fal breathed a deep sigh of relief. Finally, that had been one hell of a job. Nightbloods were not easy to track. It had been the last one he needed to tie up here in the imperial capital, and now he could finally head for The Lower Heartland. He wasn’t sure what kind of job they had for him, but The Order of Watchers always paid well and stayed true to their word. What more could any mercenary ask for?