Flashback Clouded Vision

[Erik Murphy]

3rd Bell - 20th of Autumn, AV 511 - The Storage Houses

The fog rolled in thick and fast that night. A man couldn't see more than three feet in front of him and the only the pale glow of the moon kept the city from plunging into total blindness. Erik stood guard outside a wide weathered door, the lantern that hung next to it failed to even illuminate the walls of the courtyard as the light fought to wade its way through the impenetrable fog.

Erik was on guard duty that night, charged to simply stand outside the warehouse to remind the scum of the city that those who had money wouldn't simply let them waltz away with it. Of course Erik was mostly for show; the warm flickering of torches could be seen under the crack of the door and huddled around them were three more guards who were more trusted with the contents of the warehouse than Erik would ever be. He was paid for his lack of curiosity, he had made sure to foster a small reputation around it.

He paced back and forth between the edges of the door, never settling for a moment as his mind lingered on a number of issues in his life. He had a wife and children to worry about, a mercenary could carve about a decent living for themselves in this city but he had made the mistake of getting a young woman pregnant in early twenties and while it kept him grounded, gave him a reason to stay as decent as Sunberth would allow, it had meant for the last two decades he had been worrying about putting food on the table and wood on the fire.

More pressingly was the fog. It had rolled in suddenly, catching him off-guard and unable to see anything that entered the courtyard and even as he thought about how unnatural this fog felt, potential bandits could be surrounding him without ever knowing it. "This ain't right, this fog ain't normal" He muttered to himself, comforting him with just the sound of his own voice as he slipped out one of blades from his harness, gripping tightly for a familiar reassurance.

The scraping of footsteps were enough to set the old mercenary on edge. He peered through the darkness, his eyes squinting till they were like pissholes in the snow as a figure emerged from the fog like an old horror story. "Who goes there?" Erik demanded, his weapon raise as the steel still caught enough moonlight to glimmer dangerously in the darkness.
"Put that away" The figure demanded, his apparel and weapons becoming clearer as he stepped closer to Erik "You're Erik right? They told me you were a jumpy fucker. I'm 'ear to relieve you."
Erik hesitated for a moment before sheathing his weapon, he had lost track of time and it sure as hell felt like he had been here for an entire shift. "Alright then, s'pose I better be headin' back 'ome, missus will talk my ear off otherwise".

His replacement nodded in agreement as Erik stepped away but before he could disappear into the fog he felt the cold touch of steel to his throat. "Yeah, they said you'd be eager to get 'ome" His replacement said, revealing himself to be nothing more than a thief "Now, if you don't want me decoratin' the courtyard with your blood, I'm thinkin' you should do what I say".

[Erik Murphy]

There was nothing in this world that made a man shit himself like the feeling of a sharp blade against his own throat. It was the vulnerability of it all. Erik could almost hear the metal scratch against his skin and hair while in his head he could picture the sight of throat being slit, the gushing off blood and the helpless hands that wrapped themselves around the wound, trying to stem the crimson tide. Except this time, Erik was imagining his own face contorted in pain, his own eyes wide open in helplessness. He considered his options, only one didn’t immediately result in him dead, floating in the Mudway for some urchins to discover.

He stayed silent, waiting for the thief to reveal his intentions to the mercenary, he couldn’t act decisively without any more information.
“’ere’s what’s gonna ‘appen, yer gonna get those fellas in there to open those bloody doors for me” He said quietly, Erik could feel his warm breath against his ear, he wanted to pull away from the unpleasant sensation but he couldn’t without digging his flesh a little deeper against that dagger.
“They’ve got ya outnumbered” Erik revealed, he doubted the man didn’t know that considering he knew Erik would be the one on guard that night but Erik had to at least try to point out the flaw in his plan. “They ain’t gonna care if ya got a knife to my throat, they’ll just let you kill me and then they’ll do their bleedin’ job and kill ya.”

The knife pressed a little closer to his neck, the pain of flesh torn by a fine edge was impossibly unique and even in this moment Erik could picture the small beads of blood forming against the shining steel. It was strange how the body so clearly recognized the threat the knife posed, was so clearly repulsed by it, wanting nothing more that to move away from it. Erik had noted over the years that no wound bled quite as much as a slit throat, the splatter could paint walls and it made puddle of blood in seconds where other wounds took minutes.

“Don’t worry about that mate, I ain’t alone” The thief revealed smugly as Erik’s eyes darted to each corner. He realised the wonder this fog must be doing for Sunberth’s thieve tonight, Erik couldn’t tell if he was lying or telling the truth, for all he knew there was a whole army, hidden in the fog. He tried to listen out for anything that might reveal people hiding in the mist; coughing, scuffling feet, heavy breathing. But he heard nothing. There was too much adrenaline coursing around his body in that moment to hear anything, only his heartbeat made its presence known to Erik by the rhythmic pumping in his ear.

“They won’t open the door, strict orders, nuthin’ in or out till the wagon arrives in the mornin’. Me dyin’ loudly is their alarm” Erik stated truthfully. It was just the nature of the job, Erik couldn’t afford to be picky about how he got his coin and most nights not a soul even walked by, few wanted to tangle with the men that rented these storages house out, there were some of the richest and most powerful men in the city bar those associated with the gangs.

“They will open those doors, yer gonna make them unless ya fancy taking a dust nap.”

[Erik Murphy]

“Doesn’t mat’er ta me. Either way, ya gonna slit my throat” Erik stated rather matter of factly. It was the only logical conclusion. Erik was the only one so far who had sense the thief’s face, and his employer actually might spare him any suffering if he could finger the bloke who had made of with his goods. The only sensible thing to do was make sure there was no witnesses, and once Erik had expended his usefulness, he was a dead man walking. It was Erik would do if he was in the thief’s shoes and he didn’t how the thief would reason it any differently.

“Maybe, maybe not. Seems to me ya ain’t got much choice in the mat’er, do ya?” He reasoned but Erik disagreed.
“Far from it” He began, consciously aware of the knife sinking a little further into his exposed throat, he felt the first warm trickle of blood run down his neck but he continued nonetheless. “If you kill me now, then ya ain’t gettin’ in there and gettin’ yer hands on whatever you want so badly. The doors blocked and I doubt yer got a bloody bat’erin’ ram hidden in the fog. Ya could try settin’ fire to door but you can’t risk burnin’ the valuables in there. Way I see it, it ain’t a choice of me dyin’ now or maybe dyin’ later. Its yer choice if you want the goods or not.”

Erik wasn’t sure what he was trying to convince the thief to do. Give up? Keep him alive? Either way, Erik very much wanted to end the night with his throat still intact. He wondered what happened to the guard who was supposed to relieve Erik from his post. Had he been killed and tortured for details? Or had the thief duped his way into the job himself? The latter option seemed unlikely, if he was robbing these storage houses then wouldn’t dare risk forming any connection to these houses. Either way, he doubted he’d be receiving any help from a surprised guard.

“How about this then...” The thief said, changing his tone a less threatening one, releasing some of the pressure he had previously exerted on this knife “We’ll cut ya in. I’m bettin’ you have no idea what’s in there. It’ll fetch a pretty tidy sum for ya. All ya gotta is stab a couple fellas in the back. Fella who let ya be one to stand out in the cold.”

It was unexpected offer. And one he truly doubted the sincerity of. But it was a tempting on nonetheless. He clearly had inside knowledge, whatever was in there was worth killing men over and while that didn’t mean a lot in Sunberth, he was willing to risk the ire of men who guarded their wealth with intense paranoia. Erik could do with coin, the idea of bringing home enough coin that they had to be careful not flaunt, instead of being unable to flaunt any wealth what so ever, was a deeply tempting one.

But he wasn’t a man that took big risks. That was what had kept him in this line of work for so long. Little risks, sure. But ones this size always ended up become morbid tales spoken over pints of ale in the tavern. Still, the offer was useful to Erik, it gave him a room to negotiate.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”