On The Edge of a Blade

Chapter 4.2

Back in business mode, Rose sought out the Fennec Tavern. Despite being named after the kingdom's official animal, the one which was featured in the royal family's crest, it was one of the sleaziest taverns to be found in such a prosperous location. It was a way for the richest of the poor to feel wealthier, and for those in higher classes to see traces of grime from the slums without venturing into that part of the kingdom. Yet for all of the underhanded business featured in the Fennec Tavern, the law refrained from coming down on it. The owner was dogged and, between bribes and good ale, always escaped any form of negative attention. Both proprietor and customers alike flew high and dry.

In other words, it was the perfect place for a bunch of assassins to congregate.

When Rose finally reached the Fennec Tavern, she was met with the warm glow of light and laughter. Though there wasn't a breath of wind to be felt that night, the wooden sign above the door, which was suspended on a short chain of iron links, swayed listlessly. It squealed with each change in acceleration, rocking back and forth.

Whatever was occurring inside was enough to literally shake the entire building. Whether that bespoke of chaos or lack of structural stability was unclear, though it may well be a testament to both.

Pulling the door open, Rose stepped inside the tavern. She was instantly bombarded by an array of obtrusive sights and smells. What constituted the need to engage in such intense revelry tonight was beyond her. Perhaps there was truly no reason to celebrate, just a deep desire to become wasted and shout discordantly as the end of the world approached.

Though there were a few empty tables scattered about the room, Rose walked past all of them, headed straight for the bar. On the opposite side stood the bartender, polishing a few glasses clean to look important while a small number of waitresses dashed about, not getting so much as a second of reprieve. In his own way, the man was a wicked con.

As Rose approached him, the bartender's sharp eyes studied her. Of course, there was little to scrutinize, what with her hood still pulled low over her eyes. It was clear that he was still doing his best to make quick assumptions about the stranger, regardless of Rose's obscured visage. All he really had to go on was attire and stature.

It bothered Rose when people made judgments on her height alone, but it was reassuring to know that, if it pleased her, she could whip distress into anyone. With the unveiling of her identity alone, any reasonable person would shake; and, if people didn't know her as Alister -- a ridiculous prospect, since her infamy stretched throughout the kingdom -- then a knife in their gut would speak quite fluently on her behalf.

But, information of her name was firmly reserved as a trump card, and senseless violence was a secret lover which she guarded. The less people know of her, the better, even if it meant she had to suffer disrespect in the meantime.

"What can I do you for, kiddo?" the bartender asked, setting the mug he was working on aside. For all of he musing he had been doing, the main conclusion he had come to was that she must be young. Unfortunately for him, nothing made Rose more wrathful than slights upon her height.

The assassin took in a deep breath, trying to refrain from exploding. "Get over yourself," she growled. Slights upon her stature were common, but it still got her blood boiling each time. "Does a kid know a dozen ways to cut out a man's heart?" In one smooth motion, Rose unsheathed her knife and traced the tip of it against the table in warning. She wasn't insane enough to actually make a scene, of course; she simply intended to put a bit of respect into the man through intimidation.

At the sight of a dagger, to Rose's grim pleasure, the bartender blanched slightly. He might not be the most perceptive person, but he was smart enough to recognize when someone wasn't bluffing. Between her tone of voice and the presence of a weapon, it was hard to not be discerning of the truth: this customer -- if short -- was no one to be trifled with.

Before the bartender could begin blustering any apologies, Rose continued. "I need to speak with the owner." Though she returned the dagger to her belt, her tone remained brusque.

Though not seeking a conflict, the man hesitated. "Willa's busy at the moment."

"With what? I don't have time for this."

The bartender swallowed hard, and Rose could practically hear him gulping over the noise emanating from the rest of the tavern. "A guest. I was clearly instructed not to bother them."

What? Shilah had stipulated that Rose had to find her through the Fennec Tavern's owner. It was reasonable to assume that the owner was just another one of the crafty assassin's many contacts; as branched out as Shilah was, half of the kingdom was likely placed firmly under her thumb. Unfortunately, a fact which Rose tended to push from her mind, many of those contacts somehow found Shilah both entangled in their sheets as well as their lives.

If one didn't know Shilah as an assassin, there was a good chance that they would know her as a dominatrix.

Oh, Heavens . . . . Understanding fell upon Rose like a heat wave in the peak of a summer afternoon. "Oh. Oh." Under the hood, her expression became twisted in contempt. "Well, when they're, ah, finished . . . find me."

Oblivious to the information Rose had just gleaned, the bartender nodded. "Of course, of course," he said earnestly, far too eager to please the fearsome character before him.

Rose began to turn away, but paused. "You said that the owner is a female, correct?"

Not comprehending why such a tidbit of information was significant, the man nodded, his face an open book of confusion. "Well, yes. Might I ask why it's significant?"

What a witch! Shilah didn't seem to have any limits to whom she was willing to mess around with. Though it was easy to hate serial rapists like Z, who flourished in the midst of innocent girls' agony, the level of pure abhorrence which Rose possessed for Shilah was unmatched by any. The only thing worse than a brute who loved chaos was a sly intellect set upon evil -- none were quite as conniving and heartless as she. Without the capacity to feel remorse, Shilah never faltered, making her a most formidable foe.

But, no matter how astute Shilah was, there was only one word that truly summed her up: crazy.Rose grimaced. "You might ask, but I won't answer. Oh, and send one of your girls over with some tea." The assassin paused, then added, "And if some liquor finds its well into the cup, I wouldn't be unhappy." She turned her back to the bartender, throwing the last few words over her shoulder as she pulled away from the bar.

If she didn't believe that she'd receive an actual assignment before the end of the night, Rose would be asking for a whole tankard of ale. But she was, however, and thus in no position to get drunk. Something lightly spiked would help her to tolerate Shilah, but any more than that would leave her far too powerless before an individual who could even manipulate the most sober minded. A little bit of alcohol was all she needed for now. Later, once she got all of this damn blackmail business behind her, there'd be plenty of time for drinking herself senseless.

Too bad that day seemed to be secluded far in the distance. At the rate she was going, it would be a miracle if Rose lived to see that careless of a future.

A/N: Hey everyone! Let's take another gander at Question of the Chapter, shall we?

QOTC (for writers): How many words do you typically write per chapter?

QOTC (for writers/readers): What length of chapters do you prefer reading?

AOTC: When writing, my main chapters go anywhere from 2500-4500 words. About 7 or 8 pages on google docs (where I start my writing) with my formatting! When reading, I like to read things that are on the long side of short.