Executioner's Daughter

Chapter 3C: Helpful Victims

Hans followed Bellona closely as they mingled through the traffic shuttling towards the gate. As they got closer Hans had to avert his eyes from the wall. It had been whitewashed in a paint that positively gleamed in the light so when he stared at the pale stones too long his eyes threatened to water. Hans blinked away wetness and bumped into a bruenna, a travelling nun of the  Sanguine order that practised healing. Hans caught the healer’s shoulder to anchor her, the healer offered a thankful smile that wilted once she caught the tattoo on Hans’ hand. She brushed him off coldly and passed hurriedly, almost kicking his shins with her government-issued boots. Well, it was only natural for the savers of lives to hate the carriers of death, right? Never mind that executioners of every sort punished the ones who often caused the patient’s injuries in the first place.

The guards at the gate made a perfunctory check of each newcomer, occasionally inspecting the items packaged in carts and sacks. After the healer was admitted Bellona and Hans were next. Bellona flashed her tattoo at the guards and Hans followed suit. The narrow-eyed soldiers said nothing as they passed through, their fists in the air and Bellona’s short cloak swishing lightly in the breeze.

The buildings in Shellstone stood much closer together than the ones in Zentrum, as if the city walls were a taut rubber band squeezing everything together. The roads intersected at almost right angles and with row after row of identical houses and buildings of business, Hans felt as if he was walking in circles. But what he truly hated was the paint; all the buildings were painted in a similar if relatively weaker version of the paint that coated the city walls. The constant glare from the sun resigned Hans to keeping his eyes down on cobblestones and boots.

“Hans, do you remember the physical description of our target?”

Yes, was tall and…ah yes, tall. That was all that the death warrant and mission outline had detailed to his knowledge. He gave an affirmative answer anyway.

“Did it include a description of the target’s choice of footwear that I happened to miss?”

Hans knew where this was going. He glanced up at Bellona but she was staring straight ahead, walking at a confident pace. “No, Senior.”

“Keep your eyes up and sharp. You’ll get used to the glare. It’s not detrimental to your eyesight I promise.”

He grimaced. “Why is everything painted like this?”

“Shellstone developed a special mineral and plant mixture in their paint that protects the wood from burning. It’s so effective that the houses here are practically immune to fire attacks, at least from the outside. Only the specialists here know the formula. The mineral makes the paint this sheen.”

“A little colour doesn’t hurt.”

“Takes a lot of expensive additives to accomplish. Besides, white has become a bit of a trademark that they’re proud of.”

“It’s still horrendous,” Hans said a little too loudly. Several citizens, most distinguishable from wearing Shellstone patterns in slate gray and sky blue, shot Hans a dirty look as they bustled by.

Bellona and Hans had removed their Executioner’s cloaks but the weapons, armour and Bellona’s skin attracted attention all the same. Hurried footsteps slowed and paused as they passed and Hans could not ignore the wary glances being thrown at his face. Hans glared in return and at that moment he noticed something unusual. In addition to the hostile gaze, the majority of the citizens were wearing a very smug smile.

Hans drew closer to Bellona.

“Senior-“

She grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him into a small shop. The door creaked audibly as they crossed the threshold. A middle-aged woman with neatly coiffed red hair looked up with a smile.