Approached from its southern coast, the city of Tajir, Estonia, was a dark, forbidding island. Its cliffs were sheer columns of black basalt, broken and eroded by the winds and pounding surf. Beyond the headland, the soil was thin and infertile. Trees grew sparse and stunted along the cliff, and farther inland black and gnarled trunks struggled above a forest of vines, and underbrush.
At intervals could be seen barren spots where even this vegetation refused to take root. From these wastelands strange piles of basalt would gleam darkly in the sun—weird masses of stone too regular to be called the work of nature, looking unthinkably old to be the work of man.
To the east and west side of the island lay the famed twin harbor, the main part of the island city. It is well protected, with fortifications guarding the narrow straits that opened into its large bay, always filled with many ships. The bay itself was surrounded by dry docks and shipbuilding yards, warehouses and barracks, unlovely structures of timber and basalt, with a few lavishly constructed castles of the nobility easily discernible not very far away.
It is the closest city of Estonia to Drakoria. Its lands made it reliant on trade, yet it thrives. We had to wait till the darkest hours to sneak in but even at that time the city was very bright and very loud with trade. We came through over the basalt cliffs, relying on the shadows, and then into the darkest part of the city. There were not many people in the streets we came into so we stood out well enough to anyone who cared to look. It will take their first watchmen to give us our first bloodtrail, but I'm trying to avoid any bloodtrail.
A couple passed us, trying not to seem interested in us, but I'm sure they turned the moment they walked past us. The next person we saw was a lone woman. She was wary as she approached us, and must have released a good sigh of relief when we past her, but the moment she tried to turn to have another look at us, Ophelia had her hand clasped tight around her mouth and dragged her to the closest alleyway as she struggled along.
I came in to see Ophelia not struggling to hold her, but holding back the terrible urge of bashing the woman's head against the dirty walls of the alleyway amidst all her terrible struggling and muffles.
"Keep quiet and you will make it out of here alive" I said.
She looked at me in the darkness of the alleyway with her teary eyes, and slowly calmed down, though probably still trembling.
I gave a nod to Ophelia and she released the woman's mouth, and roughly shoved her against the wall, with her face pressed against it.
I stepped closer, near enough to hear her muffled sobs, her body quaking with each shuddering breath.
"Where can I find the Paladin bitch?" I asked, intentionally lacing it with venom.
Her lips quivered, but no sound came. The girl was too terrified to respond, probably didn't even hear me.
"If you are having trouble remembering..." I grabbed her ass. I didn't expect it to be this soft and good to the touch. "You can take your time. I can think of a thing or two to wait on you with"
She had whimpered a bit loudly, tearfully, "Oh goddess" when I had grabbed her ass cheek, and sobbed even harder when I had began squeezing it and then pressed my body against her, my crotch crushing her soft ass.
I didn't intend to go this far, I just needed to leave a story in her head, but her ass felt really good that my cock refused to be contained.
"The ones with the spitting wolves!" she weeped out desperately as I was clutching up her dress. "It's the one with the the spitting wolves"
She was crying terribly and begging.
It took all will in me to tuck my raging dick back in. Not because of her pleas, I barely recognized them, but because I was in pursuit of something very important.
She crumpled to the ground the moment I let her go.
"What do you mean 'spitting wolves'?" I asked, certain that that was what I heard, but she was totally out of it. She clutched herself in a protective position, still crying and begging.
It seemed better to kill her. I didn't want a bloodtrail, especially not this early, but surely the death of a commoner woman in a dark alley is common. It could go unnoticed, and even if it doesn't it can't lead to me. I can't risk her messing this mission if I let her go, but if I did create the story then it could be beneficial to leave her alone.
I watched her sobbing for moments longer, then told Ophelia let's go.
We walked away with her still crying, and as we walked, I wondered if maybe I'm getting soft. I doubt her pain affected me, but why leave her alive, especially in that state. She would draw people to her and I might end up walking into a trap.
I stopped.
"Put her to sleep" I said to Ophelia, and she quietly walked back.
I didn't try to clarify if I intend for her to be killed, or simply put asleep. Either way would get the job done, and I left it to her discretion.
"Apologies" a young girl apologized.
She came out of nowhere, and had bumped into me softly. The street wasn't particularly narrow so I stared at her suspiciously until she disappeared into the city.
I returned my attention to the alley Ophelia disappeared into. She took a little bit longer than expected, but when she came back she had a bit of blood on her. I ignored it and we continued walking.
As we walked around, mainly in the low lights of the streets, Ophelia was more alert than before, often listening to the night more attentively. I didn't think much of it because I assumed it was because we were encountering more people.
It took a bit of walking around for us to finally see what the woman meant by 'spitting wolves'. We came across a fenceless castle, as big as the rest, though fittingly more lavish. It has a fountain in front of it of a 3 headed wolf with water coming from its mouths. A beautiful abode. We didn't see any security, or at least not any on uniform, but there were the occasional maids, and the place was too open and lighted for us to sneak in.
We went round back and there were maids working, mostly washing and spreading out clothes. I don't think I thought about this very well.
We waited behind the hedges, watching the maids. There were four of them, all too focused on rinsing clothes and gossiping to notice the shadows. The back of the castle smelled of wet cloths and ash, likely from the nearby kitchen.
"Find a way to distract them without been seen" I said to Ophelia. "And then make your way in when I've gone through."
She nodded and I watched her leave. She slipped into the shadows, as quiet as a ghost. The maids' chattering didn't stop, their voices a low hum over the slosh of water and the slap of wet clothes against stone.
A sharp crack split the night—I think it was a clay pot shattered against the cobblestones near the kitchen. The maids froze, their gossip cut short. A second crash followed, this time a stack of wooden crates tumbling into the alley beyond the wash yard. The women exchanged glances, their hands still clutching sopping clothes. One, a wiry girl with a braid, dropped her cloth, covered her breasts properly, and stepped toward the noise, her voice sharp. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
Another maid, older and heavyset, wiped her hands on her apron and muttered something I couldn't catch. They both moved closer, the older in the lead, and one by one the other two followed, giggling nervously and glancing at each other for courage. None of them noticed the shadow that peeled away from the hedgerow and darted through the open back door.
Inside, the scent changed—linen gave way to herbs and cooked meats. The corridor I entered was long and dim, lined with half-shuttered sconces and faded tapestries. I tried not to make any noise as I moved in, my senses sharp for any sign of movement.
The castle's interior showed serious wealth, as expected. Crystal chandeliers hung dormant, their prisms catching slivers of moonlight from high windows. I passed a grand staircase, its banister carved with serpentine knots, and ignored it—I need to wait for Ophelia. I followed what should be a servant's passage, its walls scuffed and bare, until I found a spiral stair tucked behind a faded curtain. It wound upward, tight and claustrophobic, the air growing cooler as I climbed.
The stair spat me out onto a balcony overlooking the back of the castle. The night was crisp, the twin harbors glinting faintly in the distance under the last quarter moon.
I leaned against the balustrade, the maids were still gone, Ophelia no where to be found. The city's hum drifted up—distant shouts from the docks, the clatter of a late cart, the endless churn of the sea. My eyes scanned the shadows below, searching for her.
Minutes passed and I was growing impatient. Then, a flicker of movement near the hedges. Ophelia came out, her form blending with the darkness until she stepped into a patch of moonlight.
She came closer, then leaped, caught on the balustrade and vaulted over the edge with a soft grunt.
I was impressed but I didn't show it, or at least I don't think I did. I just led the way away from the balcony, and retraced my steps back to the grand staircase, hoping to start there. We could hear hush conversations, but nothing to cause any trouble.
We climbed the grand staircase quietly. The corridor above was darker, and narrower. One of the first three doors stood ajar slightly, light spilling in a narrow blade across the floor.
I pushed it open.
The room was lavish. Tapestries rustled faintly under a draft from the high window. A perfumed haze hung in the air. A woman laid on the bed. As we got closer, quietly, there was a dagger's hilt jutting from her chest, blood pooling dark and glossy beneath her. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, glassy, unblinking. There was no way to tell if she was the woman we seek but the room suggests it could belong to the matron of the castle.
Out of nowhere, what could only be alarm of the castle went off. It was a resounding bell, and it animated the entire castle. Suddenly Ophelia staggered weakly, holding onto my arm for support. I didn't know what was happening, but then I heard thundering feet approaching our position. A trap.
Without delay, I picked up Ophelia and crashed through the glass window just in time for the new comers to burst into the room. They fired projectiles at my escaping self, but immediately I broke through the window I flew up rather than straight, and the entire projectiles missed me.
Shouts and curses followed us into the night as I soared higher, leveling out only when I deemed us safe. I made my way towards north to throw in a little confusion even though I knew it wasn't necessary. Someone knows. Someone is onto me.