Interlude at the Honeyed Skillet Inn
Steam curled up from the bowl, wrinkling his nose at the aroma, the assassin cut into a sausage, soaking the portion in the rich dark gravy and mashing some yellow root vegetable onto it he savoured the flavour as he chewed. His eyes watering slightly as the spices in the gravy caught slightly in his throat - a tingling of his lips and he noted sweat springing to his brow almost immediately. It was not entirely unpleasant though. He chewed and swallowed. He was previously unfamiliar with the spices in his food.
Gillan beamed with excitement watching for his reaction. He caught her spying on him and gave a nod and an ever so slight smile - she immediately approached the table,
"New spices from abroad M'lord" she stated proudly.
He sipped the dark, watery beer accompanying his meal an involuntary grimace,
"Just Phillipe my dear, I have not been anything like a lord for decades now." He smiled,
"You have some contacts then getting hold of this so soon." She laughed; she certainly did have some contacts.
"Tell me," He said, carefully sipping his ale again,
"After all these years, do you think you'll ever make beer well?" he snorted.
Feigning offence, "No need to be nasty there, plenty of customers come back for more o' that fine malted drop." She knew full well that her beer was not that great. However, they made and sold perhaps the finest mead in Empire lands, widely sought throughout most of Ashnoor and the Hadovean black market paid a pretty stag or two for just one bottle. Then there was the Bill of fare, well renowned and must do stop over for travellers.
She could live with average beer.
Phillipe tucked into the rest of his meal, in truth he was famished. Various cuts and bruises still caused some discomfort, the battle had only been a few days back. Phillipe found himself unexpectedly caught up in events in a battle he was significantly unprepared for. More than once on that fateful day he thought it may be his last. The duel with a ferocious enemy warrior Phillipe had just witnessed cut down a dozen Empire fighters - against all odds, Phillipe bested him, badly wounded but alive. Then came brief unconsciousness as he was clubbed to the ground. Swimming back from darkness, once again he was astounded nobody had finished the job as the fight moved passed him.
Then, the crowning moment as he spied an enemy place a gun powder keg for "safe keeping" far too close to the lines. Phillipe took a risk, but drawing his pistol he fired his last round at the barrel. It was a long shot and he briefly thought he had unsurprisingly missed. Until the barrel suddenly erupted swallowing up several enemy soldiers in the process. Whilst it was by no means the winning moment it did give the forces of Geldheim a brief but welcomed respite.
Phillipe made his way to the rear of the ranks after this, bloodied, battered and punctured however the fight now finished was out of his hands entirely. As it happened, the Empire force won by a very narrow margin.
Phillipe was patched up and moved into Empire territory.
After a few days he found himself in this Inn - The Honeyed Skillet. A place he had frequented over many years, a favoured meeting spot with his various contacts who brought him his 'contracts' and subsequent payment.
Phillipe pushed his seat back slightly having finished his meal. Despite his disdain for the mug of beer he finished it. He then bought a bottle of mead to sip by the fire whilst waiting for his contact, for the final time.
He'd known several contacts in what seemed to be his benefactor's network of agents, variously there were fighters, other assassins, healers, rangers every trade or profession imaginable. Over the years he had come to know some, befriended some, killed a couple and learned to keep meetings brief with others.
Kanderellin appeared silently at the table opposite him, he did not know her well, but admired her youthful bravado, beauty and, he had to admit, skill. She was, she had assured him, bound to be an Empire assassin herself. She smiled at Phillipe across the table.
"Big prize for you this time - big job?" She asked, openly and genuinely curious.
Phillipe smiled,
"Not so much," he paused, gesturing for her to join him by the fire warming the Inn. They both moved to seats near the fire, he offered her a cup and some Meade, she gladly took it.
"I'm retired." He said bluntly after they both took their first sip of the sweet, honeyed alcohol. Her normally poker face completely failed her at this announcement. Eyes wide, she looked at him with what could only be described as a shocked expression.
"I've never heard of such a thing!" She blurted out,
"Who is it that retires? Are you broken, gone soft in the head...What? DId you die even?" She spoke quietly but earnestly only slightly raising volume with the last. Phillipe thought he caught a tear in her eye, briefly.
"I'm old, I'm tired, I don't recover anything like I used to and, honestly, I almost did die far too many times in a battle not of my making nor was I hired for it...Oh, and the benefactor had already released me from contract...That helped." He smiled at the last. Particular for bonded assassins it was very rare they were released from contract. Of course, it was also only a few who lasted as long as the Mouse had she had to admit to herself.
Phillipe's pay then contained a very nice bonus then she surmised and left it at that. He'd likely earned it.
"I've heard talk of your name mentioned in the same sentence as an assassination attempt on some monarch or other..." She let the sentence trail off. Phillipe stared at her, his gaze intense enough to make her shift hers.
"No chance, that was no one person effort there."[ He said bluntly.
"Not my work, even our benefactor couldn't front enough gold for me to even consider it." He continued. They both knew the benefactor would not accept no for an answer, however, she was fairly sure the Mouse would simply disappear and pop up elsewhere later. She knew enough of his tale to know he'd probably still consider any job in the Kingdom a suicide mission.
They drank in silence for a while, then they exchanged some pleasantries and agreed to catch up, both knowing that was unlikely and she was gone as quickly and quietly as she had arrived, albeit with a bottle of Meade Phillipe had gifted her.
Phillipe rented a room for the evening.
In the morning, he mounted his horse and rode home to the Mouse Trap Estate.
