Vigilante of the Oppressed Act 1

A hitman living by a code of honor discovers a sinister plot to seize control of Listhania. Can he stop it, should he stop it? Come read my short story, I'll be posting it in segments

Had this world measured our intellect to determine our worth,

I wouldn't need to present myself on the frontlines of all these battles.

But, alas, our value is determined by how skillfully we may weave sophistry.

Though I'm as adept socially as I am intellectually, it is my refusal to manipulate that leaves me wounded after each encounter.

Machiavelli be damned, I will not sacrifice honor for success.

     Now, there I rest in the village tavern. Look at me, sipping my drink, nursing my wounds. If only I, the fool, would upgrade to the weaponry used by true warriors, I might have my pound of flesh. Like a rogue samurai clinging to the ideals of his ancestors, I am mocked by dirty fighters who lack honor but have earned the respect of this tavern's locals.

    But that respect is all the reward they'll ever receive.

      After I finish stuffing my wounds with maggots and bandaging them, I lean back in my chair and absorb the ambiance. It's a comfortable little inn, with stone walls and thick wooden supports interspersed along each side. Lit only by a few lamps and a fireplace, the orange-yellow light from the flames dances across the ceiling and seems to avoid certain shadowy figures scattered about the room. Most every table has seated around it jolly patrons, as well as likely criminals, and across the room near the fireplace sits this village's most obviously prominent group of people. Loud, obnoxious, and drunk, 6 grown men sit and listen as their leader stands, foot on his chair, bragging about his days accomplishments.  I'm certain some of the men sitting are loyal followers, but others of them are hiding their plans to usurp the group's king. 

      "...then I tied up the father's hands and made him watch! That'll teach them not to pay the land-tax they owe me!" Said Brogen, the group's leader. Hearing that made me snap to attention. I listened closer.

      "So, the b***h just let you?" Asked one of Brogen's seated lackeys.

      "Let me?! She practically begged me, Turk. And that's the truth!" Answered Brogen.

      There was a contract I'd received recently to find the man responsible for raping Vivian Clemens, and for the murder of her father and brother. I'm getting a gut feeling this sleezebag is the one who did it. So, with my hand clenching the dagger in my jacket's pocket, I walk over to interrogate the foolish braggart.

Author's Note

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