Peek: The Unseen Blade

The young elf tries not to think about what lead him here, but there is precious little else to distract him while he tries to ignore the hunger and the cold. He almost wishes it was snowing instead of raining. At least snow can be shaken off before it soaks you to the bone.

The most galling part is that he ran away to try to avoid situations just like this. His teeth clench as his hand tightens around the hilt of his dagger. No, he's going to be a thief, not an assassin.

Not a murderer.

Memories of childhood come unbidden, the young elf as unable to keep them from seeping into him as he is the rain. He thought his parents were simple merchants, traveling around the kingdom, hawking their wares. His mother was always finding some bauble that eventually sell for a steep price, and his father was a ruthless haggler, able to extract prices even a child could see were exorbitant.

It's only with the benefit of hindsight that he recognizes laundry. It's not like the money would go unnoticed by the tax collectors, nor could they just say the actual reason they were paid so much for a pretty piece of artistry. It's easier to get someone to believe you sold a rare curio than to explain you accepted money for a life.

And they had been quietly preparing him for... the family business. "A merchant should be able to protect himself," his father would say. He believed him so easily, what child wouldn't trust their parents? It certainly helped that training together was... was fun.

Shadow affinity is often stigmatized, an affinity for scoundrels at best. But his parents were legitimate business people, respected. At least he thought. The people who would buy the overpriced trinkets always had a tension to them that the ordinary customers never did. It's plain as the sky now that it was fear. When you contract an assassin, you can never really know if someone else didn't contract with them first.

It was just such a situation that revealed everything to him. He was told to deliver the trinket, which he happily did. It's just that his parents underestimated how long it would take him. He wanted to impress them with how well he had been doing with shadowstep. What should have taken him most of the day only took a little over an hour.

The guard at the estate that took the delivery was the easy mix of authoritative and bored that experienced guards are, quickly identifying the package and verifying his lord was expecting it. He even gave the young elf a couple coppers as a tip for the quick delivery. He doubts the guard knew anything. He probably would have tried to delay him if he had.

Maybe he was trying to with that tip. There were all sorts of treats he could have purchased with the copper, but he wanted to get home and show off not only his speedy delivery, but the extra money he earned for it, too!

When he rushed in, he saw his parents with an elven man, having tea together. He could see their surprise and concern about him being there, but he thought it was just them not wanting him to interrupt the negotiations. But it was too late.

"Ah, look at how you've grown! You probably don't remember me, but your parents and I go way back! What has you in such a hurry?" he asked, setting down an empty tea cup and turning to give him his full attention. He didn't recognize the elf, but his parents didn't correct him, so it was probably fine to share, right?

"I just finished a delivery! I even got a tip from the guard!"

The elf smiles, turning his head to clear his throat before answering. "Oh? A fine job, then! Who did you deliver to?"

His parents tried to motion for him to stop, but he didn't see any reason to keep it a secret if he's a friend of his parents. "Miss Tenneri from the potter's guild."

The older elf froze at that for a moment, before trying to play it off. "Oh? What did you deliver?"

His parents weren't trying to get him to be quiet anymore, so he answered, though he felt more uncertain with every passing second. "One of mom's treasures."

The other elf coughed a bit, and stared at the teacup before turning his gaze on the child's parents. "...Why?"

His father sighed, first answering his mother's look. "He had to find out eventually. As for why... you know we were only ever associates, not friends, Hild. She made the first offer, a generous one at that. You know the first contract is the one fulfilled. It's a quick one, at least. Usually there isn't even any coughing. I guess you've been trying to build an immunity. Too late, it seems."

The young elf could only stare as the elf who had been drinking tea like an old friend slowly slumped in his chair, his breathing becoming more and more ragged... before ceasing entirely. His mom waved a hand, a shadow passing over the body and transporting it somewhere else as his father spoke.

"Now son-" was as far as he got before the young elf fled. He doesn't know why they didn't stop him, why they didn't pick him up at some point after. There's no way a couple of assassins wouldn't have been able to track him down. He still sometimes jumps at shadows, wondering if they're finally going to try to explain themselves... or simply kill him.

He shakes himself, scattering raindrops as he forces the memories and worries down. It's been years. If they were going to do anything, they would have. Perhaps, fittingly, assassins are happier with a clean severance. He stomps down on his thoughts again as he finally sees a target: an orc. More specifically: the pouch on the orc's belt.

He's not proud to have gotten so good at this, but it beats starving or following the same road his parents are on. He shadowsteps behind the orc, his dagger already moving to cut the strings holding to his belt, only to find stone suddenly blocking his blade.

He feels his feet sink into the earth as the orc turns, quickly revealing a bright lantern to remove most of the shadows nearby. The elf freezes, baffled and unknowing what to do as the orc gets a good look at him, and he gets a good look at the orc.

He's older, that's easy to see. Even his eyebrows have gone grey. That's the only sign that time has been able to wear him at all. He is toned and fit, his eyes piercing and analyzing, and the young elf wonders just what's going to happen to him.

"Just my purse, hmm? With that technique, I was expecting to need to guard my vitals." He grins as the young elf snarls at that idea. "Ah, no love lost for assassins. Good." He turns around and releases the elf, and he considers running. But something keeps his feet still as he sheathes his dagger. He stares at the orc's back as he walks away, soon waving for him to follow. "Come with me, lad. I could hear your stomach growling even before you stepped close. Let's get you fed. You might make a good apprentice. What's your name?"

He hesitates, glancing at the shadows and escape... but his gut says to follow the orc. "...Tarl."

The orc turns and smiles. "I'm Listor. Listor Greybrows, Dungeon Inspector."

___________________

Partially inspired by Magnadra, who wanted to see why Tarl was called the Unseen Blade. It kinda turned into a bit of an origin story, but here we are :)