Going Feet First Ch. 04

To her left was a home that could only belong to a large family with an abundance of resources, as it was similar in a way to the homes of Ra'zorlich nobles with its size and impractical features. It was a rather large house made of stone and wood, with a copper-plated roof and glass windows in its sills.

Over on her right was something she thought more suitable for servants: a wooden longhouse with rows of shuddered windows and doors hanging off of rope hinges. Surrounding the entire area were large, freshly plowed fields that stretched from the walls of the trench to the road to the road running up the middle of the divide.

A bird took off as the doors of the longhouse burst open. Petra instinctively ducked down while her feline ears flattened over her hair. A handful of men emerged from the longhouse wearing ragged, sun-bleached clothes over their solid, brawny frames. Right away some started toward the barn, though the rest headed for the well in the middle of the yard where two men had just finished pulling up a bucket of water.

So there will be blood after all. Here I thought it could be avoided.

As the group of men neared the barn, the assassin stretched out her fingers and prepared to deploy the lethal weapons stored within their tips. In her mind she began envisioning how to combat the men when they entered her temporary domain, and how to hide the bodies should the scuffle go undetected. While she was compiling this, to her pleasant surprise, two of the approaching men broke off and continued past the building, leaving the third alone as he approached the door.

Petra let out a sigh of relief while also forming a smile. Careful as to not make a sound, she moved away from the window and into the corner, her claws easing out of her fingers as she prepared to strike upon easy prey. The door to the barn swung inward, but was quickly shut again by the farmhand after he entered.

"Morning, boys and girls," the young man said. "It's a new day and the seeds must be sown into the soil. Who's up first?"

Petra cocked an eyebrow at the man as he stopped and observed the waking horses in their stalls. He wasn't much older than Galen, with shoulder length black hair and dusty clothes a bit too large for him. At first glance the assassin saw nothing particularly threatening about him, but she knew herself to never trust an appearance or else they will be deceived by it. Just as Teirie had discovered the hard way.

Flexing her fingers and letting out a slow, calming breath, Petra began to rise to her feet while remaining cloaked in shadow. The moment his focus came to one lively looking horse in its stall was the moment she struck.

The farmhand was about to take a step for his intended workhorse when a hand wrapped around his waist and pressed its claws into his belly. Before he could make a sound, the other hand came to his mouth, again, with its claws out. When he tried to reach for the appendage grasping his mouth, Petra gave a low growl, jerking his head back so her mouth was beside his ear.

"Be silent before I tear out your insides."

In reaction to her words, Petra could feel every muscle in his back become tense as his spine rattled. After skipping several beats, his heart rate jumped, and his breathing became constricted as it would when someone was fighting back impending tears.

"I want something from you, human. It is not your life, currency, or anything worth dying over. Is this clear?"

"Mmmhmm," he mumbled through her fingers, a drop of something running down his cheek.

"I am going to release your mouth, but be mindful of my claw at your belly and my record of removing a man's heart in less than four counts. Survival means cooperation, is this clear?"

He nodded, and the assassin slid her hand from his mouth down to his throat, coasting over his adamsapple before moving his side to where his kidney was.

"What is your name, human?"

"T-T-Teebs."

"Teebs? Odd name."

"W-what do you want?"

"Food and a way I can get into Redding. Do this," Petra's hand moved away from his kidney and into her girdle, withdrawing a golden coin and holding it up to his face. "And this will be yours."

"A-a-a-a gold... coin?"

"It holds a lot of value, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. Bring me what I want, and you shall receive two. Try anything," her hand moved from his belly to his crotch with claws still poised to strike, "aAnd I will give you more pain than a century in the Nether."

Petra remained pressed to Teebs' back as she turned him to the door. "Look at my face and it will be the last one you ever see."

She pushed him toward the door, grinning as the farmhand fumbled around to open it and darted outside without looking back. When the door was shut again, she moved to the window, making sure that Teebs had hurried to the main house before she let out her breath. I wonder what drives him more, greed or fear?

Shrugging at her own question, the assassin retreated back to the loft of the barn, taking up a spot in the back corner and waiting. Not too long after, the farmhand came back with a fair-sized bag in one hand and a jug in the other. When the door shut behind him, he quickly moved to the window, checking outside for a moment before turning back to face the interior of the barn.

At first he was a bit perplexed by the absence of the Neko, searching around for several moments before finally looking up toward the loft. There Petra remained in the back corner, away from the window, to allow the shadow to consume her pitch-black body while Teebs was partially blinded by the on-coming sunlight pouring into the barn.

"Set what you have brought on the floor, and tell me how I may enter Redding."

He nodded and placed his items at his feet before stepping back. "Unless you are some kind of wanted person, you can get into the city through the main gates or the gates topside, no problem. But those ways are open only in the day, and bein' a Neko, you'd need to talk to a gate guard before you enter and also pay a fee for a pass or you'd be tossed in jail."

"That's it?" Petra retorted. "No need to sneak in or slit a throat?"

Teebs swallowed. "N-no, no need for that. Unless you're plannin' to live there. Then you'd need to register."

"Register?" Petra echoed, cocking an eyebrow.

"Something like writing your name and stuff down for records... You aren't a razor-lynch are you?"

"Razor-wha-? You mean Ra'zorlich?"

"That how it's said? Huh- uh, yeah, Razor-licks get hung in the street. Which would be a problem if you are one."

Petra's eyes narrowed. "Then it is good I am not a Ra'zorlich."

"Good. That's good. If they ask, make that clear. Or you'll be buzzard food."

"Thank you, Teebs," Petra flicked the two gold coins at him, allowing the farm hand to catch them before she growled, "Now go to the rear of this building, cover your eyes. If you take my face into your brain, I will take your brain into my claw. Understood?"

The composure he had vanished under a curtain of fear. In a second he dashed to the back of the barn and under the loft where Petra could not see him. She heard a rustling as he fought with some object of some kind, but after a few moments silence returned. An uneasy silence.

With her claws exposed, the assassin crept over to the edge of the loft, hanging her head over the side to see Teebs huddled in a corner with his shirt over his head as he kept his face tucked into his knees.

Smart boy, Petra thought with a sly grin.

She hopped down to the floor, inspecting the bag he had brought in. Inside was a small abundance of bread, pieces of meat, cheese, and what seemed to be a ripe apple. Much to her disappointment though, the jug was only filled with water. Even worse for her was, despite the protests of her stomach, she had to fast just a little while longer as she did not know if the meal had been tainted.

The assassin forced her hunger aside and carefully smelled each item, allowing her refined senses to search for any sort of poison or drug. Immediately she caught the scent of a few foreign spices in the meat, as well as some sort of dried fruit in the bread, but ultimately there was nothing of alarm that she could personally detect.

"It is not tainted with anything?" she inquired, glancing over at Teebs.

"No, miss."

"Then you wouldn't mind sampling it for me?"

"If you wish me to," he said, starting to lift his head.

"Face down!" she snapped, and he shoved his head so fast into his lap that he slammed his forehead on his knee.

While the boy groaned in a mumbling voice, Petra declared, "I will take your word for it."

He would've hesitated if it were tainted, she thought, inspecting a piece of cooked meat.

With another growl erupting from her belly she took one bite that was immediately followed by another. In a flash she had finished that bit before carrying on to the next, and then the next. Faster than she had thought possible, she consumed the entire meal and downed half the jug of water.

Yet, even during her morning feast Petra still kept an eye on Teebs. Her survival and assassin instincts compelled her to search for any kind of suspicious action he made. A grin, a suppressed chuckle, even a quick peak out from under his shirt. If this farmhand did make a move or give her a reason to think he poisoned her, she was going to make sure he died before any effects came about.

Broadcasting the end of her meal by purposely smacking her fingers audibly, Petra continued to watch the farmhand for even the slightest hint that he may have done something. Yet he remained in his corner, too frightened to pull his shirt off of his face.

I guess he was honest.

Petra moved to one of the windows and glanced outside to check the yard. Most of the men had taken to the fields already, leaving only a single guardsman or greeter of some sort watching over the path that lead out to the main road. If the assassin wished to remain anonymous and leave this farm without a posse on her trail, he needed to go.

While running several courses of action through her mind, Petra began searching about the barn for something that could be of use in her escape. Beside one of the stables was a saddle ready for the road with an abundance of gear which attracted the assassin's interest. Upon further investigation she found a sack filled with clothing intended for someone with greater statue and greater brawn than her own. Though it took her digging right through to the bottom of the pack to find something that fit her needs.

A black, felt cloak, large enough to wrap her entire body. When Petra pulled it over her, she found at least two whole hand lengths of the bottom dragged along the ground. That would be dangerous as it was possible get caught on either debris or under her foot if she did not trim it. For now though, it would have to do.

With the cloak on and the hood pulled up, Petra approached the barn door, opening it just wide enough for her body to slip through. Seeing that the yard outside was still clear aside from the lone watchman brought a calm feeling about her, that she would not be dealing with pursuing humans on her trip back to Redding's gates.

"Forget I was ever here, Teebs," she ordered.

The farmhand lifted his head up just as she slipped out the door, the words, "good bye" hanging on the tip of his tongue. For several moments more, he continued to stare at the door while trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened.

A Neko assassin had come to him, asking for information and food while offering coin, whose silhouette and attitude had shown her to be a fine, powerful creature. To have slipped past the night watch and enter the barn without disturbing the horses, she was definitely someone with a lot of training and refined skills. For his dream of becoming a talented rogue... he could only hope to meet her again on better terms.

Sighing Teebs looked down at the two gold coins in his hand. They were generic coins, no stamps, no markings, and when he bit down on one, it bent cleanly.

The gold was real, very pure, and it could keep him fed in fine foods for over a week, or outfit him with a decent pair of swords to practice with. And all it cost him was giving some mystery Neko a small meal and a cloak.

Letting out the disheartened air from his lungs, he pocketed the coins and went over to his saddle gear, of which she had done a thorough job of making a mess. One article at a time he brought it all back together and cleaned up the evidence of the Neko ever being in the building.

...

Outside the barn Petra crossed the yard toward the house as quickly and quietly as her cloak would allow. Despite being out in the open in rather conspicuous attire, she wished to both continue the stealth game and keep her features a secret for as long as she could. Should Pretayus, who had no doubt gotten a good look at her before, catch wind of a pure black Neko breaking into a farmhouse outside the city, he would no doubt seek her out and bring her game to his terms.

For Celia and Galen's sake, she could not let that happen. The longer the slaver remained blind to her presence, the more time she had to sneak in and find out what actions were needed to free the Tree Elf. Remaining a secret meant ridding any witnesses that may have a clue to her identity or would have a chance of witnessing it, including the man that stood waiting in front of the house beside her path of escape.

Without his noticing the assassin came up behind the farmhand and clamped her fingers down on the side of his neck. He gave no struggle, and in a second he dropped to the ground. Though he was still breathing, he was no longer conscious as Petra stepped over his body and made a hurried walk down the path leading back to the main road.

If Teebs' information was correct, the gate to Redding should be open and should remain so for quite a while. Had she known before that it was only open during the day, there wouldn't have been the need to go sneak onto the farm in the first place. So stupid were those risks she took while both exhausted and deprived of sleep, she should have known better. This was the "civilized" lands after all and they would maybe have talked to her instead of attacking outright.

In any case, she needed to return to Redding's gate and get inside the city. Whether that was with gold or assassination, she did not care. Galen could return at any time, and she did not wish to disappoint him or leave her Elven friend alone for long.

Or allow Pretayus another day with his dark heart still inside his chest.

......................

With her body wrapped up a grey, wool blanket, Celia remained huddled in the corner of a comfortably-sized yet bland room. The four walls of her quarters were, like the rest of the house, made of cold, lifeless, grey stone. All she had for furniture was a feather bed on her left and the closet standing against the wall opposite of it. On the far wall were two windows spaced evenly apart that offered a wide, and terrifying, view of the city outside.

From her third floor room, Celia had gazed out and seen Redding in its full glory, without the dead of night hiding its true face. There were rows upon rows of houses and buildings, with stone streets running in between them that were filled with thousands of dreary-looking people, predominantly humans, and each of them living in an environment where silence was never found and the beauty of nature did not exist.

The house where Celia was kept was much larger than any other in the city; she knew this since she had seen its size when she was brought here the previous night. It was three levels high and as wide as the Great Tree. This was monstrous when comparing to most other homes she saw in the city which were only one level with two or three rooms at the most.

Forming a spacious perimeter around the home was a stone wall twice the Elf's height, with a large iron gate that was patrolled by several sword-wielding guards. The stone-laid path leading to the front door from the gate was lined with rosebushes blooming with collages of white, pink, and red. Within the confines of the wall around the house, the ground was covered in neatly trimmed grass that seemed to be specially cut for some purpose that Celia didn't understand.

Footsteps in the hallway outside began to approach Celia's room, drawing her eyes to the door and sending her stomach sinking into her pelvis. They were coming for her.

Some metal tools began to jingle outside followed by something sliding into the door handle. Not wanting to be hit with the door when it opened, the Tree Elf uprooted from her corner and went over to the bed to huddle up on top of the feather mattress. She had just removed her boots and drawn her feet up into her blanket when the handle clicked and the door opened.

Tears welled up in Celia's eyes as the door opened, revealing Pretayus to be standing in the doorway. Upon his deceptive face was a warm smile that sent a frigid wave through her body as he tipped his head. Both his mithril armor and Galen's jacket were missing, and it was clear he had cleaned up. His mop of black hair was tied back and his chin was cleanly shaven with not a single hair left to sprout from it. In replacement of the armor she had always seen him wear was a spotless, white tunic and black pants that had not a speck of dirt anywhere to be seen.

Beside the Slavemaster in the doorway stood another human who had a look to his bright, teal eyes that seemed to be the total opposite of the Slaver. The young man adjusted the seams of his rich, purple suit, even taking a moment to fix the placement of the white rose in his lapel. Golden buttons lined the opening of the tailcoat and the cuffs of his white dress shirt puffed out around his wrists. In some odd sense of fashion his purple breeches only came down to his knees, with long socks covering the rest of his legs from his shiny black shoes to the top of his shins.

"Lord Fretheim, allow me to introduce you to Celia, my newest acquisition."

Though she couldn't understand why, an easy feeling came over the Elf as this "Fretheim" took a step into the room. She found a sort of comfort in his handsome face, but not nearly as much as she did with Galen. This man had blonde hair that came down over his ears, though it was not shaggy. It was neatly brushed and swept back using some oil to hold it in place.

"Is this her? My, isn't she gorgeous?" he awed, his voice soft and charming.

"Oh, gorgeous indeed. And according to my little Val, she possesses a powerful talent in plant magic."

"Plant magic, you say?" Fretheim stroked his chin. "Well, I could most certainly use that. Does she bite?"

"Harmless," Pretayus answered in a proud manner.

"Lovely..."

Fretheim came over to Celia's bed and took a seat beside her, placing one hand on the mattress near her feet. He then leaned in, reaching out to her with his other hand. As his fingers neared her face, however, Celia drew the blanket up and inched away from him, cowering even as she saw the hidden disapproval in Pretayus's narrowing eyes.

With an audible sigh, Fretheim drew his hand back, politely bowing his head to the elf before asking, "Does she speak our language?"

Pretayus shook his head. "Unfortunately not. She hasn't spent much time with humans, it seems."

"Hmmm. That could explain her fear of me. Do you think you could amend that? And still finish your process with her in a reasonable amount of time?"

"Not until I find out if she's with child."

A frown came down over Fretheim's soft face as he turned to the Slavemaster. Still maintaining a calm composure, he asked, "And if she is?"

"Then the sale waits until the child is born. The Demon's spawn is mine."