Switched the beginning scene around with the second one, so if you want to read it as it was originally intended. Skip to the second scene, read there and then the first scene. Hopefully if I'm correct though, it should work reading it in the new order.
Away from the dimly lit streets of Benerhival, hidden in the back alleys, a man stood with his back to the wall.
Perfect, Ouryn thought. Concealed by the shadowy embrace of the cloak, the man’s features were not discernible, but everything else added up. His contact was known to be on time and always had an air of mystery about him. “Reliable as always, Radvor.”
Radvor looked up to the left, chill breath escaping from the pitch-black hollow of his hood. “I get paid to be reliable, Ouryn.”
“That you do,” Ouryn conceded. “Never have you let myself or my lord down.” He reached under his own cloak and untied a pouch from his belt. “Half now, the rest later.” He tossed the pouch to Radvor.
Radvor nodded, catching the pouch. “This job,” he said slowly lowering his head and in a low voice. “It will most likely be hard to accomplish. I’ll need a few days most likely.”
Radvor nodded, catching the pouch. “This job,” he said slowly lowering his head and in a low voice. “It will most likely be hard to accomplish. I’ll need a few days most likely.”
“You had to mention that. I’ll hate every moment of it being with the White Hoods.” He spat to the side of his feet. “I will be most displeased if others get to hear of this, Ouryn. I’ll never live it down.”
“Why, I’d never…”
“You would and you damn well know it,” he said quickly raising his head. “How is the old bastard that pays you to do his dirty work?”
“He is the same as ever. Grows ever more profitable off the ill fortunes of others,” he shrugged. “He never liked being called an old bastard.”
“Yet he isn’t here, Ouryn,” reminded Radvor.
“That he isn’t.” Pausing, he considered his next words for a moment. “You have a plan of how to pull the job off?”
“I do.” Radvor stopped leaning against the wall and turned to face him. “Though it is not fully clear yet.”
Ouryn nodded. He wasn’t entirely too happy however, upon hearing the response. Yet his thoughts trailed to the fact that on many occasions Radvor had pulled jobs off, without fault. He won’t fail us, he reminded himself for peace of mind. “I have no doubt you’ll pull the task off. Do not rush it, I’m sure my lord will be most displeased if you fail rather than take your time.”
“I really don’t care if your lord will be most displeased or not Ouryn, my own hide comes first. You know that.” He stopped, waiting for a moment before continuing. “I will however see to it that I don’t fail you. I’ll see to it that which you desire, is brought to your lordship at Blackbell. The object he desires is a large golden cross, which is highly treasured by the order of Gwyllis. Correct?”
Ouryn nodded. Lord Aucyn Earel had been explicit in the description of what he sought. He had also made one other important request that triggered in Ouryn’s thoughts.
Discreteness and no shedding of blood. “You are to be as subtle as you can, without any violence if you can help it.”
Radvor stood silent, staring at him with the featureless hollow that comprised his face. “You and your lord needn’t treat me like I’m a fool. It goes without saying that I’ll be subtle. Yet I cannot help but wonder that the old bastard has gone soft?”
“If he has, I haven’t seen any sign of it.” Ouryn shrugged. “Lack of attention is always the best route. I imagine that is his thinking.”
“Perhaps, not that it matters. I can’t promise anything regarding that in case things go wrong but I will try. The White Hoods and the city guard will be after me, so it will indeed be difficult. Not to mention the trip to Blackbell.”
“You’ll pull it off, at least with minimal casualties.”
“I will,” answered Radvor though he seemed to be looking past Ouryn over his shoulder. “Guards are coming.”
Ouryn spoke as low as he could, as quickly as he could. “See you back at Blackbell then and good luck.”
Radvor nodded and moved back silently, melding into the shadows like a demon of the night as the guards approached behind Ouryn. Ouryn turned and faced the guards, giving his trousers a tug. “Can I help you?”
One guard was short, the other tall and both wore mail with a coif covering their heads. They carried shields and a torch, with a sword sheathed at their waist. The tall guard stepped forward. “You can. You can start with explaining why you’re down here?”
“Taking a piss. No laws against that, is there?”
The tall guard looked to his partner behind him. The tall guard’s partner didn’t offer any help or clue as to the correct action.
Ouryn saw that they were both green and young, he found it amusing. “I’ve got to do it somewhere, haven’t I? You both look as though you’ve never taken a piss down some shady back alley before.”
The tall guard turned at his words, eyeing him suspiciously. He moved the torch to his shield arm and kept his free hand rested on the sword’s hilt at his waist. “Stay clear of trouble,” he said after a long moment had passed before turning and leaving Ouryn to his own devices.
Bleeding guards. I thought they weren’t going to leave for a moment. He spat to the side and walked in the opposite direction of the guards.
****
Darrias’s thoughts were split and many, each one whirling through his mind. With his breath hot and laced with alcohol, he stared down into the bottom of the tankard. Grumbling with dismay, the bottom was devoid of ale. Across from him, sat a man he’d known for some time. Yet every time the man was near him, he’d watch leery eyed.
“Which whore will you be having tonight to warm your bed and keep you company Darrias?”
“None?” said Darrias with a sharp tone, looking at Ouryn with disdain. Ouryn was supposed to be the epitome of a knight. He wanted to make the fact known that he thought it was incredulous that Ouryn had been knighted in Xantor’s name, yet he thought better of it.
“Pity. You could have any whore you wanted here if you slipped them some of your prized gold coins, despite the state of you.”
“Since when have we been friends, Ouryn? Childhood?”
Ouryn shrugged. He raised the tankard to his lips and took a slow drink of the ale. His head was bald with a shiny patch in the middle, his clothes those of a man made rich from the ill fortunes of the common folk. In The Broken Stein, he was out of place yet Darrias knew no patron would harm him for fear of the sword he had sheathed at his waist. “I would like to think so.”
“We never were. How’s your lord in Blackbell? Must be missing you because you’re not there to hold his hand while he pisses.”
Ouryn didn’t look bothered by the insult. If he was, he didn’t show it. “Oh he has plenty of people to hold his hand, Darrias. Besides, I’m above the lambs that he grows rich off."
“Funny,” he said dryly. “I thought you were below them. Shows how one’s station and a lord’s favour can lift them above the masses, no?”
“Quite.” Ouryn smiled.
Darrias had always hated that smile, the undertone of arrogance hidden behind it. He knew however that he was hitting a sore spot. “What are you doing here anyway and you just happened to drop by here to annoy me?”
“Oh, I knew you’d be hanging around in this gutter of a place, like you have since your father died. So I thought I’d come here and catch up for old times sake. Other than that, I have some business to attend to for my lord. You know what his temper is like if an order is disobeyed.”
“His reputation precedes him yes,” responded Darrias with his light brown eyes carrying a dangerous edge. “Don’t talk of my father again Ouryn, you didn’t know him and you don’t know me either.”
“I see my welcome is running thin. Seems many people can’t tolerate my presence these days. Can’t say I care though, I’d piss on what you and others think of me Darrias. What matters is I’m rich and I enjoy life, unlike someone.” He let those last words linger, eyeing Darrias. “But I’ll spare you my presence if you’re so determined to not have the company of an old friend.”
“Good. Go back to Blackbell and that lord of yours as quickly as you can.”
“Of course,” smiled Ouryn standing. With a quick bow, he retrieved his grey cloak from the back of his chair and wrapped it around his body, before leaving.
Darrias watched him leave, pushing his way through the tavern patrons. He sighed once he had lost sight of Ouryn and wanted to kick himself. He wasn’t any the wiser as to why Ouryn had came into Benerhival and that fact stung. On the other hand, Ouryn was much too smart to divulge any information about why he was here. He hadn’t had the right mind set for dealing with him either, being taken by complete surprise at the visit.
Damn him to the abyss, he cursed.
Staring blankly into the tankard again, he cursed the fact that there was no more drink left. Pulling himself up to his feet wearily, he searched for the stairs though it was hard finding anything with the bustle of the common room. Upon finding them, he groggily moved to them and placed his unsteady hand on the banister. Wooden steps creaked under his feet, ones that he used to fear he’d go through when he’d first started frequenting The Broken Stein. It was a far cry from the large estate he’d once called home.
At the top of the stairs, the hall was long and narrow. The grey stone walls also showed the neglect of the building, with cracks running down their width. Apart from the window at the end, the hallway was plain except for the burning torches holstered along both sides of the wall. His room was halfway down on the left.
He slid the key into the keyhole and turned it. The door had always been stiff to unlock. Upon finally managing to turn the key and open the door, he walked into the cold and damp room that was his home, closing the door behind him.
At least it isn’t dark in here. It could be worse. He locked it and threw the keys onto the red covers of his bed.
He let his thoughts wander, sitting down on the bed with his head held in the palms of his hands.
I probably make you disappointed in me father. I am not the man you were and not the one you wanted me to be. Instead I am but the opposite of the knight I was before you died, a pale reflection of what once was. I’m sorry father…
He removed the symbol of Xantor from around his neck and looked at it. The golden emblem of a shield with a sword etched on the front of it had always given him pride. Yet no more did it make him swell with pride
. I do not deserve the title I was given in your name neither, Xantor. I’m sorry for not repaying the trust one of your followers paid me in dubbing me a knight.
Despite his feelings, he laid the symbol of Xantor on the table gently. He still treasured the symbol, even if he hated himself and the title of sir that he carried. He knew he would always treasure it. Sleep is what I need now.
Edit: My next goal isn't to post more now, but instead try to get anything I write up to the bar scene standard even if the story isn't interesting, without others working on it and hopefully, in the second draft max. Prefably first. The first scene is the very first draft, no edits or anything so I hope I got that good. Nearly all talk I know, but the tightening with description and adding more prose in etc. can come later. Also the now second scene, might just want the odd word changing to be consistent with what happened in the first scene, seeing as I switched it.
I'm not sure whether I'll write more on the first chapter or not, yet. If I do, i may or may not post it. I'd only post it if others want to read from now on, as I don't want to litter the forum with everything I write. It'll be quite a ways in before I show another chapter, depending on whether I want people's views or help. It won't be chapter 2 either, I promise.
So if you want to read it as the pieces were originally intended, just read the second scene first, it should fit together that way without any nessecary changes.
I'll try to make them fit better in the new format and re-edit this post.
It's also a good place for a sucker-punch...thereby allowing you to contemplate the irony of humanity's condition doubled up or flat on your back
