Mereavus' Son

Night had fallen, as it had a habit of doing, over the city of Valys. The shadows had crept out of the alleyways and stained the cobbles black, trickles of moonlight laid silent in crevices.

She waited. She stood leaned against the wall between the butcher's shop and the apothecary. Tobacco smoke drifted past the dripping edge of the roof's limits. A strip of white light draped itself over an unbleached skull pauldron.

She was surprised by how quiet her guest's appearance was. Big men were so often clumsy. Hooded and tall, she was momentarily entertained by the idea of being visited by the reaper himself. Not quite so accurate.

Mars was the reaper.

She pushed herself off the wall with one boot and turned with the creaking of boiled leather. She had her suspicions on who this nobleman was, despite being unable to see his face. The King was around that tall, but he'd have summoned her himself. This was someone entirely different.

She greeted her latest client with a firm clasp of the forearm.

"You requested me, Dominus?" she half-whispered in that usual gravel-chewing voice.

"I have a job for you," the far deeper voice answered, a glove extending a folded piece of parchment.

"A job in what particular?" Mars asked, taking the paper, but not yet looking at whatever was written on it.

"No traces, no violation, swift and painless," the man answered. "As merciful as you can be."

Mars' scarred brow rose, and she unfolded the piece of paper. Quite suddenly it all fell into place, though she couldn't say she understood. Not fully. Comprehension of emotionally complicated material wasn't her forte.

"Yes, Dominus," she answered, with a very uncharacteristic strain of empathy. "Is there any place in particular you'd like the end product delivered?"

There was a moment's silence.

"Buried behind the three rocks after the gulch south of the city," he answered. "I will find it there."

There was another silence as Mars held out her hand expectantly.

Cloth ruffled and clinking coins sounded. A nondescript pouch exchanged hands.

"As you say, Dominus. Within the week."

And soon enough, her client was gone. She looked down at the paper between her gauntleted fingers once again. She nodded several times with her lips pursed. A figure crept from the side of the apothecary's building, and slunk up behind her inquisitively.

She turned her head, but didn't set her eyes on the shadowed individual.

"We have a task," she muttered.

"Who?" he grunted, swiping for the paper. She moved her hand too quickly for him to snatch it, and began to leave the alleyway.

"Merripen Van Gatt."