章節 37: Aldwyn strikes back
Meanwhile, there was a meeting of the remaining heads of the great houses of Helgarde in the city council. Lady Eilif from House Phainslill, High Confessor Elian from The Church of the Silent Night and Lord Charles Brarnsaiph from House Brarnsaiph.
The discussion was tense as High Confessor Elian leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity. "The Baron has made an offer that we cannot refuse," he announced, his voice echoing through the chamber.
Lady Eilif's eyes narrowed, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "What kind of alliance are we talking about, Elian?" she asked, her tone skeptical. "Deole Mitchell died by his hand, do you remember that? He tries to take Helgarde by force."
Lord Charles leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "I understand the temptation, Elian," he said. "But we must consider the cost of such an alliance. The Baron is not a man to be trusted. His power is rooted in chaos and destruction."
High Confessor Elian's eyes did not waver from Lady Eilif. "The times are changing, my dear. Chaos can be a powerful ally when the world is falling apart. The Church has its eyes on the greater good. The Baron offers us protection, resources, and power. We can use this to stabilize Helgarde, perhaps even extend our influence."
Lady Eilif's hand tightened on her sword. "Protection at what cost?" she spat. "The Baron is notorious for his cruel methods and insatiable hunger for power. If we ally with him, we may as well hand over the city keys."
Lord Charles nodded in agreement. "And what of the gods we serve?" he questioned, his gaze drifting to the stained-glass window depicting the pantheon. "The Baron worships the beings of darkness and malice. Can we truly stand alongside such a man?"
The High Confessor Elian's smile thinned. "The gods are fickle, my friends. They have abandoned us to the ravages and whims of the evil ones. Perhaps it is time we looked for other allies, those who can offer us tangible aid."
Lady Eilif's eyes flashed with anger. "You speak heresy, Elian!" she exclaimed. "The gods may be silent, but their will is not forgotten. House Phainslill will not align with the Baron's darkness."
The room grew tense, the air thick with unspoken accusations and the scent of fear. "Very well," High Confessor Elian said calmly. "Then you leave us no choice. The Church will make its own pact with the Baron. We will ensure the city's survival, with or without your help."
....
Back in his dimly lit room at the Hall of Swords, Aldwyn sat at the small wooden table, the cube's box lying open before him. He picked up the cube, feeling the cold, smooth surface of the artifact in his palm. It was surprisingly light, yet it radiated a strange energy that sent a shiver down his spine. He studied it, his silver eyes reflecting the candlelight that danced across its matt black surface.
„I was already planning to go to the Merchant's Guild, so I could give it a try. The only question is what alternative I should come up with... And then there's the issue of the consequences. They may not always be devastating, but there is still a risk. It is, after all, a form of manipulation of the "normal" timeline or fate." Aldwyn thought about the problem.
„So my first decision is to go into the Merchant's Guild and wait openly for the trap from the main entrance, being prepared and with my senses sharpened this shouldn't be a problem"
Aldwyn held the cube in his hand and repeated the thought several times in his head. „So the first step is done. Now I just need the alternative."
Aldwyn thought for a moment before turning his gaze to the cube. "My alternative decision is to wait for the lurking attack and strike myself the moment he leaves the Merchant's Guild."
He whispered the words, and the cube grew warm in his hand, its surface rippling like liquid darkness. For a brief moment, the room around him changed.
The vision unfolded in front of him like a macabre play. He saw himself in the shadows of an alleyway, the cobblestones damp with dew under the moonless night. The Merchant's Guild loomed in the distance, a bastion of power and greed that had become his obsession. He watched as a figure emerged from the building, shrouded in a cloak. It was Caius.
In this alternative reality, Aldwyn stepped from the shadows, the twin blades of his swords whispering as they slid from their sheaths.
The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them locked in a deadly embrace. The smell of the alley, a mix of rotting refuse and stale sweat, was replaced by the scent of iron and the coppery tang of blood that spilled from Caius' wounds.
Aldwyn's silver eyes gleamed as he watched the life drain from Caius' body, the satisfaction of victory momentarily washing over him.
But as quickly as it had come, the vision dissipated, leaving him in his candlelit room, the cube now cold and inert in his hand. He took a deep breath, his heart racing from the intensity of the scene that had played out in his mind's eye.
After a few seconds, he said softly to himself, "My alternative version was successful! I killed him... But what now? I have 24 hours to decide which version I choose, an original plan that I don't know if it will turn out the same, or should I take the risk of a possible consequence and go for the alternative?"
The silence in the room was pierced only by the ticking of a distant clock, its rhythm a metronome for the racing thoughts in his head.
„Let me consider... What possible consequences would there be? Logically, I could prevent my possible death, which could lead to a domino effect that could result in consequences."
„In addition, killing Caius could lead to gaining the attention of potential allies... Although as an Assassin, I doubt that theory."
„When I think about it, there is only a small chance that a major consequence will emerge. If I would wait a bit and move up in the Assassin Path, I could probably defeat Caius, so this result wouldn't change anything dramatic."
Aldwyn breathed heavily before saying, "I made my decision, it will be the alternative!"
....
2 a.m. near the Merchants' Guild. Exactly the same as in the vision, Aldwyn hid in the shadows and lurked for Caius.
The night was eerily quiet, the only sounds the distant clank of the night watch's armor and the occasional howl of a stray dog. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the stillness. He was ready for what was to come, his twin blades a silent promise of death.
The doors to the Merchants' Guild swung open, and out stepped Caius, his cloak billowing around him like a dark cloud. The crimson moon cast an ominous glow over the cobblestone street, painting the scene in shades of blood.
Aldwyn remembered the vision and did exactly the same as there. He jumped out of the shadows right towards Caius. His two blades glowed in the moonlight.
Before Caius could react, Aldwyn struck him deadly with his blade through the heart. Caius jumped back and held his wound.
Caius looked at him with surprise, but there was no fear in his eyes. Blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"You're a bold one, aren't you?" Caius chuckled through his pain, his hand clutching his chest where Aldwyn's sword had found its mark.
Aldwyn didn't waste any time. He lunged again, his second blade aiming for Caius' neck.
Caius managed to dodge the first strike, but the second blade sliced through the air and found its mark, cutting deep into the flesh of his neck. Caius' eyes widened in shock as his hand went limp, and a gargling sound erupted from his throat. His body crumpled to the ground, the crimson life force staining the cobblestones beneath him.
Aldwyn's breathing was heavy, his eyes fixed on the dying man. He felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, triumph, and a cold, unsettling emptiness that he couldn't quite place. He had killed before, but this felt different. This wasn't just another contract; this was a step towards.
The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. The night watch, alerted by the commotion, were drawing near. Aldwyn knew he had to act quickly. He wiped the blood from his blade on Caius' cloak and sheathed it, his movements fluid and precise. The world around him was a blur of shadows and whispers as he slipped away into the night, his steps silent as a ghost.
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