Iron in Shadows

Payments and Debt

Slamming the door behind me, I head straight for the liquor cabinet. Pouring myself a healthy dose of amber liquid, I curse under my breath before resting back on my haunches.

"Nightingale's are rare and tricky creatures, don't beat yourself up about it too much"

A dagger slides from my sleeve and imbeds itself into the wood behind me. A chuckle travels to my ears from my kitchen. I follow it, pulling a double edged knife from my boot.

"Please, no need for weapons, Fox".

A skinny man sits on one of my wooden seats in the dark, his boney legs tightly pressed together, translucent hands folded lightly on top of one another. A simple black tunic rests upon his bones, a golden dragon is stitched climbing up his sleeves. A well-known signature of the King. Thin hair the shade of ash crawls out of his scalp. His high and hollowed cheek bones poke at his skin. His yellow, narrow eyes asses me.

The knife remains tightly gripped in my hands.

He sighs before reaching out for my amber liquor. He takes a swig, releasing a pleased sigh afterwards.

"The King sends his regards by the way," The man says, lowering his voice and the glass.

I throw the knife, making sure it lands in the wooden chair, an inch from his thigh.

He sighs once more before saying, "I do so hate weapons". He picks up the blade with a wiggle of the handle, caressing the finely tuned edge of the blade with a sharp yellowed nail. I breathe heavily, staring at the man.

He smiles at my, sharp yellow teeth pinching at the dry crusted pale lips. His pupils seem to sharpen like a cats, his skin becoming transparent as the moonlight hits his features. 

"What does the King want with a low life like me?" I ask with venom in my voice. The man chuckles, i'm surprised the sound doesn't break his ribs. 

"Have you heard the stories of the King's daughter, Fox?" I pause, frowning at him.

"Bits and bobs, I tend not to associate with the royal harem," Fox whispers.

"If you were smart you would" The man states, raising a pale eyebrow. I just stare at him.

He places the blade aside, wiping his hands against his black pants as if ridding himself of it's violent remnants.

"The King's daughter, Mabel... She's special. Very important and as of last week, very missing," he sighs, glancing out the window.

I start to chuckle, holding onto my belly as an ache begins to spread.

"I'm sorry, are you going to hire me to try and find the King's daughter. What makes you think I give a shit about that bastards offspring," I spit.

As stiff as a skeleton he rises to his feet, striding towards me, boney fingers dusting off invisible flecks of dust from his tunic. He's taller than me by a few inches, his gangly frame far skinnier than mine.

"If that's the case then I'm sure Matthias would be interested in the King's offer. After all, a promise of freedom and wealth are sure to interest him," the man says. Matthias is another bounty hunter in the area, for most of his life he's been second best to me.

"Why would you want to hire sloppy seconds?" I enquire. The man looks me in the eye, the bright yellow dilating against the black.

"The King doesn't care who retrieves his daughter, as long as she's retrieved," he states simply, shrugging his sharp bones.