A Path to be Crossed

The storm rages outside as Nathan closes the door behind him. He is soaked to the bone as he makes his way to the front desk of the inn.

"I'll be needing a room."

The Innkeeper eyes Nathan up and down, taking in a count of all the weapons the man is carrying. "Bounty hunter?"

"Mind your business. Mine shouldn't be spoken aloud." The Keep understands. Everyone in the land knows of the one business no one should speak of.

From behind Nathan a softer voice echoes across the room. "An assassin are you?" A rail thin man strides up to the side of Nathan. "I'm Bastian. It just so happens I'm in the same field."

Nathan sizes up the scrawny man. "Then why are you so loud about it?"

From behind the desk the Keep slides a key over to Nathan. "It's just one night. Right?"

Nathan takes the key. "I'll be requiring a room on my return to the wilds." Nathan slides six gold coins to the Keep. "I'm sure this is enough to keep your trust?"

The Keeps eyes go wide. "More than. What will you be requiring?"

"A meal, drink, and," Nathan lowers his voice, "company."

The man Bastian raises his eyebrows, "Company you say! I'd be most delighted to share my company with you, good sir. I'll regale you with the exploits of my profession!" Bastian takes hold of Nathan's arm, dragging him to the lounge past the Keeps desk.

Nathan is surprised by the man's strength. For as thin as he is, he has a grip like a vice. When Bastian releases Nathan, he can see deep markings. These marks are unusual though, and after studying them a moment, Nathan grabs Bastian by his cloak's collar. "Remove the curse bastard."

Bastian flashes a grin as wide as a river. "But of course I would." His grin remains in place, "Except that I cannot remove it by myself."

"What foolishness do you play at?"

"You see, it requires you to gain knowledge for me to remove the curse. In other words, you'd best listen to my tales."

Nathan releases the cloak, only to grab Bastian by his throat, drawing on his own magic, imparting his own curse upon the fool.

Bastian's smile merely widens. "You're also demon-born. I knew there was a reason I like you."

Nathan hates being called demon-born. It's a reminder of what his mother did to conceive him, and how she tried to end his life before his curse could begin manifesting. "Don't call me that. Now remove the curse, before I complete my own."

"I've told you already, in order for me to remove the incomplete curse, you need to learn something new. I use it as a means of entrapping my audiences. Quite clever don't you think?" Bastian pauses a moment. "Your curse is incomplete, what do you require to remove it?"

"For you to quit pissing me off."

Bastian rolls his eyes, "Typical. You're too much like the others in the guild. You're all broody, low voiced, too emotional."

"You would do better if you acted like us. And don't lump me in with those fools in the guild." Nathan takes his hand from Bastian's throat before taking a seat in one of the deep chairs provided. "Your requirement. Let us fulfill it. Tell me what I might not know."

Bastian keeps his eyes on Nathan as he sits across from him. "Now that is odd. You're not part of the guild. I thought for sure that you would be, considering your demeanor."

"So you made a wrong bet."

"I might have to report you to the guild."

Nathan glares at Bastian under his deep brows. "You're actually a member of the guild? With how you act? That's the most preposterous lie you could have told this night."

Bastian lifts the sleeve on his right wrist, showing a golden colored tattoo in the shape of a skeletal owl. "It's no lie, my new friend. I've been a full member of the Tus Kar Ma Guild for nearly two decades. Since I completed my final test by killing my own mother."

Nathan sighs as he looks off to the side. "I never had the opportunity. My mother died in childbirth. As for the killing of a surrogate, I had none." Nathan swallows hard against the lie he has spoken.

"Of course you didn't. Who could ever wish to raise a demon-born like us except our blood mother's?" Bastian leans back in his chair. "So, since you're not a member of the guild, you don't have the same protection afforded to you that I do. How have you gotten by without it?"

"When it is inferred that I am an assassin, most people don't bother to ask the follow up question of whether I'm in the guild or not. Like you, they just assume that I am."

"Yet you assumed that I wasn't. Have you met many assassins who aren't members of the guild?"

Nathan remains quiet as the Innkeeper rolls a trolley towards them. In their presence the Keep sets two folding tables full of food and drink before both of the men. Nathan calls him once more before he rolls away, tossing a silver coin to him before waving his hand in dismissal. Alone once more, "I've met a handful here and there. In fact, some of their names would rightly shock you." Nathan grows quiet as he digs into the roast the Innkeeper brought. Bastian watches him silently, drinking wine. "Please, be so kind as to 'teach' me something, so we can both be rid of each other's curse."

Bastian sets his wine aside as he begins telling long illustrious tales of his exploits. Among the deeds Bastian lays claim to, Nathan makes note of several that were actually his doing. The ranting touches on several high profile clients, many of whom being political enemies, as well as national. The long list grows longer by the minute, adding new names, even repeating some multiple times. Through all of the names though, Nathan notes a void, an omittance that others may have overlooked.

The night drags on as Bastian continues, pausing once in a while to eat or drink a bit. Finally, before the dawn, Bastian ceases his endless talking, turning instead to question Nathan once more. "Do you feel that you have learned something?"

"I have. Might not be what you've wanted me to learn, but I gleaned a bit of the actual you."

"What ever could that be?" Bastian sips at the last of the wine.

"You're a liar. You had no intention of removing your curse."

"No, I didn't. Though your own has put a foley on that plan." Bastian goes silent a moment, the deep marks on Nathan's arm fading while he does. "But as I said, you learned something, so I'm obliged to remove it. I noticed that you removed yours some time ago."

"I don't waste it on those who aren't my targets."

"And who, pray tell, is your target?"

Nathan shifts in the chair. "I'll tell you my target, if you come clean that you're traveling to the wilds. That your own target is the leader of the barbarians who keep me employed, and that you've already received payment for your task."

For the first time since they began talking Bastian is truly surprised. "How could you have figured that out? I made no mention of them at all."

"Your various tales included some of my own exploits, as well as tasks that I know for certain weren't your undertakings. Amongst all your tall tales though, you never mentioned the Republic of Ralajut. Therefore, I'm keen to suspect that they are employing you at this time. What's more, the Republic has only one enemy at this time, my barbarian employers." Nathan finishes the last of his own wine, setting the goblet on the folding table.

"How could you possibly know for certain though? It could simply be that I dislike Ralajut, and refuse to do business with them." Bastian slides his arms behind his head as he leans back.

"You may dislike them, but you're an assassin, and the guild doesn't refuse any kind of work." Nathan yawns before pointing to Bastian's arms. "You need to keep those knives sheathed there. Otherwise I'll kill you with the secondary curse I placed."

Bastian stares at Nathan, the words hanging heavy in the air. Slowly he pulls his arms from behind his head, the sleeves rolled up enough to see small spaded blades strapped to his upper muscles. "What secondary curse? How did you know about my knives?"

Nathan sighs, "When you were showing off your guild tattoo, I noticed the form of the brace under your cloth. It's only reasonable to expect you to have two. As for the secondary curse, it's one that very few assassin's can attempt to master. You see, only a demon-born assassin who was raised by his mother can learn it. The reason being that the mother is bound by her demon oath to teach it to her child when they reach an age of majority." The truth spoken by Nathan strikes Bastian. "Yes, I also lied earlier."

Bastians face turns to a scowl of anger. "I'm not fond of being fooled."

"No, you much rather be the one fooling others. So, are my suspicions correct? Are you working for the Republic of Ralajut? Heading towards the wilds?" Bastian simply nods his head in confirmation. "That's fine. I've grown weary of working for the barbarians. I'm tired of always needing to bring back the head of my target for them."

"And what of your target?"

Nathan smiles, "I told you, at this time Ralajut and the barbarians are at war, so it's only reasonable that I be on my way to kill the Ministers of Ralajut." Nathan cocks his head to one side. "You're not going to try to stop me are you?"

Before Bastian can answer, a strange sense of pain washes through him, not debilitating him, but a warning of what could come. Slowly, Bastian shakes his head, feeling the pain ease away. "Was that part of your secondary curse?" His words come through labored breaths, making his voice raspy, like branches being drug through mud.

"Yes, it is. The pain can grow to be unbearable, to the point where you'll kill yourself if you don't find relief."

"Can you remove it?"

"No. It will stay with you for the rest of your days. Should we cross paths again, or should you inhibit me in any way, the curse will immediately take over." Nathan smirks as he sees the realization sink into Bastian's mind. "Of course, without me around, there will be no way to cease the curse, so you'd be left to deal with it."

"Please, don't leave me like this."

Nathan stands, turning to the hall that leads to the guests rooms. "Then I think it would be in your best interest, to not cross my path again." Nathan strides away from Bastian, leaving the once boisterous man to sob at the misfortune he has brought upon himself.