Ironsides

Written by Haroldosaur on 19/08/2016 because I had nothing better to do on a long car journey. :P

It was quite tiresome to be caught before reaching the innermost keep, even though that was technically how the operation was supposed to go. I had manged to get through two walls of security, but it was as I had sprinted through the open courtyard that I had suddenly been pounced upon by a seemingly infinite number of guards. I had intended to put up no fight, but I doubt I would have stood a chance if I had either way. Within moments my scythe had been confiscated, and a pair of too-small-handcuffs had been forced upon my wrists.

Wincing at the memory, I shook said wrists in disdain before turning to the pair of guards laughably dubbed my “escort”. Both of them wore heavy, jet-black armour (complete with flashy red highlights) that must have been a nightmare to move around in, and they smelled desperately overdue for a wash. They wore helmets complete with wide visors, which mean I couldn’t even see their faces. Not that that was much of a problem, but I would have appreciated something interesting to look at. The armour was bland, even with the red highlights, and I wasn’t exactly wowed by the interior decorating of the castle.

Once, perhaps, it might have been a true wonder to behold. But the truth of the matter was the place had apparently fallen into a state of disrepair, with cobwebs and mould clambering all over the paintings and podiums that littered the hallways. The occasional drop of moisture would echo as it hit the floor, providing the only noise aside from the heavy clanking of metal as my guards continued to drag me along through a chain attached to the innermost point of my cuffs.

“This is so stupid.” I muttered to myself, voicing my disdain of the plan that I had been forced to go along with.

“Don’t talk unless you want me to shut you up myself.” One of the guards snapped, his voice echoing inside his helmet.

Big talk for a walking tin can. I’d like to see you get near enough to shut me up, is what my innermost thoughts consisted of. I managed to repress this statement, however, and replaced it with a “Where are you taking me, anyway?”

“The king.” Growled the other lug. “He takes trespassing personally, so he’ll want to speak with you before you’re sentenced.”

“Perfect.” I muttered. “There’s a thing or two I’d like to say to him myself.”

We arrived at a pair of enormous oaken doors, covered with rusted metal engravings and paint that was peeling off even as I watched. One of the guards gave the doors an almighty shove, and the other guard gave ME an almighty pull to get me moving again as we entered.

At the back end of the room was a throne – possibly the only piece of upholstery in the palace not in need of renovation or replacement. It was magnificent, with golden carvings surrounding a sky blue seat and back, the seating area constructed of what I could only assume was fine felt. The rest of the throne might have been covered in magnificent paintings of ducks for all I knew, but that view was obstructed by the man sitting in it. Clad in blue overalls and white underclothing, red cap on blocky head and black eyes boiling with fury, TheDude7500 himself glared at me with enough disdain to frighten a lion.

To the man’s right stood another figure, clad in another set of red and black armour. This suit seemed less technology-based, with a medieval breastplate and helmet that enabled me to see the man’s vicious face. What I could see of his hair was black, the same colour as his eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if dark eyes was a theme amongst villains, though this train of thought was derailed as TheDude leaned forward in his stolen throne.

“Hoo r yuu, annd wat ar yoou doo-ing in meh carsle?!” He snapped.

I winced – his grammar was as bad as they said, and I could almost see the misspelling of words in his speech. But there was no time to recoil. I had to stick to the script.

“Oh, great TheDude.” I bowed low, my shadow-coloured cloak fluttering around me as I lowered myself as much as I could whilst still being restrained by the handcuffs. “I have travelled from a faraway land to pledge my allegiance to you.”

There was a pregnant silence.

“yur aleegans?” TheDude eventually echoed, as if still trying to process my statement. I took my chance to continue speaking.

“Your allegiance, my lord!” I confirmed. “I am an assassin, and for many years I have lain low, doing my work. But upon hearing of your magnificent deeds, I knew that it was my destiny to serve you! So I travelled to Morcia-“

“Why did you sneak into Lord TheDude’s castle?” Interjected the other man, not looking nearly as furious as his superior; he was looking at me as if I were some kind of lab specimen that had just done something very unexpected.

“Well, with all due respect sir, I couldn’t exactly go in the conventional way.” I crooned. “Do you believe that your soldiers would let a strange woman, dressed entirely in black, enter the castle, especially if they wanted to see their leader? Better to get myself caught and taken to you, knowing that I would get the chance to speak with you in person.”

“And how were you so sure that you would get a chance to speak to him?” The man continued.

Truth be told, I hadn’t been sure at all. It was a long shot on our part. But these people did not need to know that.

“I’m sure that TheDude would want to deal with any intruders he might face personally, being the courageous and noble soul he is.” The words left me wanting to scrub my tongue, but they seemed to have an effect on TheDude, who leaned back in his chair with eyes that were a lot more relaxed than when I had first entered the room.

“But what if-“ The man continued, only to be silenced by TheDude’s outcry.

“Sighlens, Vladek! Du yah nort theenk I cahn arsk mah own qwestshuns?” He snapped, and Vladek blanched.

“Of course, my lord. I apologize, my lord.” TheDude turned to me.

“eef yuu arr a faymos asaseen, hau cum eye hav never herd of yu?” He inquired. I managed a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, I can’t exactly let anyone stick around to tell the world about me, now can I? I’m an assassin, and I make it my prerogative to leave no witnesses.” I grinned. “However, I assure you that what I do has an effect on the world. Tell me, have you ever heard of a man called, Dante Wilder?”

“No.” Admitted TheDude.

“What about Cadmus Ro’Maeve, or Roseanne Hargrove, or – whatever universal entity you believe in forbid – Kaneli Armithron?”

“I hav not herd ov thees peepl.” Admitted TheDude.

“There is an obvious reason for that, my lord.” I bowed again. “They were targets of mine.”

Vladek raised an eyebrow. TheDude said nothing. I had to make sure that my sales pitch was successful.

“I implore you.” I said, in conclusion. “Take me in. Make me an agent of yours. I want nothing more than to serve the man who rules us all.”

There was another horribly long pause, and I had begun to sweat before TheDude spoke again.

“Iy hhav desyded to highr yu.” He declared. “Yuh ees nuw mah ajent, annd ya will dew eggsactly wat I say. Ees tat cleer?”

“As crystal, my lord.” I bowed again, before looking back up at him. His eyes, lifeless and empty, black as a doll’s eyes, met my own – a vivid, bright silver.

“Releese her!” TheDude commanded, and the guards took the handcuffs off me. My scythe was returned, and I slung it back into its rightful place over my shoulder.

“Thank you.” I stated.

“Wun moor thin.” TheDude declared. “Wut ees yur nayme?”

The words “Talia Rayne” were on my lips, but I hesitated at the last moment. I needed an alias, just to be safe. The only trouble was I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Panicking, I blurted the first word that came into my head.

“Ironsides.” I managed.

“Eye se.” If TheDude was annoyed that I hadn’t given my real name, he didn’t show it. “Gardz, tayke Iwonsids too her qwurters. Twomoroww, she wil bee introdused to teh rest ov mah eeleet ajents.”

The guards saluted, and proceeded to escort me out of the room, leaving me time enough to flash one more fake smile to TheDude and Vladek. Inside, however, I was fuming. In a moment of idiocy, I had chosen a name that I would never be able to positively react to. What kind of suspicion would be garnered if I flinched at my own title?

I had given myself the alias of the man who had killed my father.