Fantasy Anthology: Book Seven

1

The Guildpact

Gral’s knuckles whitened as he ran his dagger slowly along his whetstone, hoping the familiar sound would grind at his mood. It was in no particular need for sharpening, but he felt as though if he were going to spend his time menacingly babysitting, he might as well look the part. His contract was a middle aged judicator from the Tragal family, who was meeting a man at the bar for business. The business was none of Gral’s business, Tragal had insisted, but Gral couldn’t help his curiosity .

It was a good practice for a knight to wonder at the intentions of his contract, as it was to wonder at the intentions of everyone in the room. This particular room held little interest to Gral; besides the two businessmen at the bar and the androgynous serving hand, it was empty. The autumn sunset was casting an orange glow upon the veranda’s awning, leaving its occupants shaded, yet visible. A low railing circled the room and Gral ground his blade at a table in the corner nearest the entrance.  The street beyond had a few traders and civilians shuffling by, none of which seemed a threat.

There was something about Tragal’s posture that bothered Gral.  Though they were both on their second drinks, each man sat with their backs slightly turned towards each other, and Tragal often shot a purse-lipped stare at Gral over his shoulder.  Gral had started sharpening his dagger after the third, hoping to keep his eyes to himself, but the suspicion continued to grind at his conscience.

Tragal tipped his head back and emptied his cup, then turned to the satchel at his side. He scanned the room once more before pulling a lockbox to the table. Gral saw that inside laid an ornate scroll with golden finials. Of course it was a scroll, Gral thought.  When is it not a scroll? He turned to sheath his dagger and caught eyes with a young child poking his face through the rails.

The look froze Gral. He was very filthy, and no older than eight. He had an innocent face, but his eyes were full of fear. Gral noticed them locked to the sheath at his side. Smiling, Gral slowly pulled his cloak back from over his tunic to reveal the guild badge pinned to his chest. The boy smiled back, and Gral’s mind instantly went to his nephew. He wondered if he was safe.

A shadow broke through the canvas roof. Whirling, Gral caught the figure spilling headlong onto the bar, grabbing the scroll from Tragal as he clutched his chest. Gral shot up, flinging the chair and table asunder, and made his pursuit.

Rust colored robe, he thought, vaulting the rail, no shoes.  He burst around a corner and saw the thief shoot through an open archway. He thanked himself for deciding against his chain vest, and was already making up ground by the time he came upon the courtyard.  The thief was climbing off his knees up a merchant cart to a low roof. Gral let go of his sword belt and broke into a sprint. He mounted the roof in time to see him disappear back down the other side. Below was a tight alley and at the end of it Gral spotted his quarry turning down the Red Road about fifty yards out.  It only led to one place.

What a fool, he thought, and cut his way across the alley into the gardens. The priests would hopefully forgive him later.  It was a quick clomp through the muddy greenery before Gral emerged to cut the thief off. He spotted the rusty robe and took a moment to assess the scene. He’ll have to make for the bridge; the thief’s right was blocked by a building. They were both about ten yards from the bridge to the left.  An old woman was shouting about twenty yards behind the thief, and a squad of guards came quickly around the corner. Pulling his hood over his head, Gral locked eyes with the thief as she was turning her head from over her shoulder. He could feel her shock across the distance, but her face quickly sharpened while he sat stunned. Of course it’s a bloody woman.

She bolted, shoving a child to the ground, still clutching the scroll.  Gral snapped to and sprinted after her. He extended into a dive, barely missing her cloak, and caught a heel under his chin for the effort. She let out a squeal that was half a laugh, but Gral was quick to his feet.  Limping slightly now, he could tell she was getting winded. Besides, she had nowhere to go.

The cathedral was a sentinel, its high walls supported on each end by buttresses and bridges extending from the city walls themselves.  Like the city walls, it was also built into the sharp end of Jaggedmaw Mountain, whose mines served as a font of crystals for leymages. The recent guildpact meant renovations to the crumbling walls, and that meant locked doors and boarded windows.

His quarry disappeared into an alley he knew was a dead end. He slowed to a trot, then a walk, then a prowl.  He slid his sword from its scabbard slowly. Hunching against the corner, he could hear the frustration in her hurried breath as she discovered that she was at an end.  Gral stood tall and took a deep breath,

It’s over, he said calmly, turning the corner,

On behalf of the Knights Guild I order y- The stone found its mark on his forehead, stunning him as he stepped back. Anger flared in his gut; with a hand on his head he swung his sword wildly, spotting his target through blood soaked vision. He grit his teeth and swung again at the form kneeling on the ground before him.  He felt slight resistance as his blade cut through flesh, and the scream that followed let him know his message was received.

Please don’t make me do this! She said, using her maimed hand to hold the scroll open on the ground.  Gral was well past the point of reasoning,

Unhand that scroll, NOW!  He pointed his blood tinged blade forward, still struggling to see,

"Collapse!" was her reply, with a flourishing hand upward followed by a quick pull down.  A rumble of rocks sounded to his right. Ancient stones pulled from pillar and took Gral with them to the ground.  When they settled there was scarce any light that found him at the bottom of the rock pile. He had fallen prone, his right arm pinned behind his head.  He struggled to push through their weight, but each breath only came harder. He felt his vision closing in on him, and he couldn’t escape the thought of how impossible it was that she was able to cast that spell.

* * * * * *

The captain’s desk was usually very well organized, but today papers and books were scattered upon its surface.  Some had fallen to the ground. Occasionally an assistant would poke her head in to make sure the man before the desk hadn’t left.  The last time she groaned heavily; it was unclear if it was at the mess, or at the man. People had been like that all day: groaning, sighing, rolling eyes.  There was so much signing, stamping, checking, rechecking, so much unnecessary work, he didn’t blame them for their attitudes. He still wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but he knew it was his fault.

Finally the captain came into the room, striding quickly past the man without consideration.  He stopped when he saw his desk, pinched the top of his nose, and then took his seat. He slid his forearm across the desk, sending stacks to the ground, and then held his head in his hands for a moment before speaking,

Has the medicine worn off? Do you know your name, at least, why you are here?  The captain folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them,

My name is Gral, no family name, Corporal of the Knights Guild.  I’m here cause I cut that filthy thief’s fingers off.

YOU are here because you violated a primary tenant of the Guildpact, Gral!  You left your charge undefended, tromped through a sacred garden, and assaulted a citizen that didn’t engage you first.  You remember all that, right?

I remember waiting for Tragal for about an hour before he pulled that scroll out.  If I just let that thief get away with it, how good of a job am I doing? What would Tragal do?!  

At that the captain slammed his fists, HE WOULD PETITION THE THIEVES GUILD, DAMMIT!  Did you learn NOTHING in your first two years here?! Both parties fell silent then; Gral knew the next thing he said might be his last as a guild member.  It was the captain that spoke next, though, Did you know Tragal had a heart attack? You’re lucky he’s even alive. The captain steadied himself, clasping his hands back together, and took a deep breath, Violence has no place in the capitol anymore.  If you are engaged, of course, but only in defense. We are the only ones with weapons now, Gral! And you know even those are meticulously tagged and tracked by the judicators.

That was true enough.  The memory of Gral’s processing was clear now.  Only after each blade and piece of armor was identified and catalogued was he given medical treatment, and that too was catalogued.  Gral knew half the papers on the desk were just from his processing, the others were probably from other guilds and departments requesting reports and information on the incident; the merchants, the herbalists, the clerics, the thieves.  That’s how conflicts were really resolved in the capitol: with pen and influence.

You’re right.  I didn’t think, I just reacted.  Gral let out a heavy sigh, "Maybe I was even looking for a fight.  But you gotta have my back on this, chief! Tell the other guilds my story!  She cast the damn spell!"

You and I both know that’s impossible, he said in a whisper, "If you are going to lie, why not say she had a dagger, or that she swung at you first? THEN I might be able to do something