The Assassin’s RedemptionChapter 1
Dracon skulked through the castle darting from shadow to shadow. He jumped behind a stone pillar as two guards passed by on patrol. Damn, that was close. The whipping of the wind and rain against the castle had masked their approach, even though the sound of their tin boots and rustle of their breastplates should’ve alerted him long before.
Dracon continued on hesitantly, more alert than before. He strained his ears, listening for any warning of trouble, but all sound was overpowered by the rain and the rapid beating of his heart. 5 years I've done this, and I still get nervous on missions. He took a deep breath, and felt the drum roll beating slow to a steady thudding.
The man pushed open the wooden door slight and peered in. The kitchen was small, a large fireplace built into the back wall. Dusty cauldrons, pots, and plates lay in disarray on the floor. A woman, the cook – he assumed – hovered over a table, her pudgy figure casting a shadow across the wood. She quickly tossed things into a pan, everything from spices to meats. Every now and again she would look up, her hair tied into a disorganized bun and her flushed face turned down into a frown as she shouted orders at the servants passing in and out of doors on the right. Dracon thought they must lead to the dining hall. Her fingers stabbed through the air, trying unsuccessfully to get directions across to the servants.
“You there, be careful with that soup. And you, don’t drop that. Hey, you, go get me some more carrots!” The last servant she spoke to, a short, yet very thin, middle aged man, his few remaining strands of hair slicked through with sweat, moved towards Dracon’s door. Here’s my chance. He pressed himself to the wall next to the door as the servant hurried out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. He struck then, grabbing the man from behind. One hand clamped over the servant’s mouth, muffling his screams, and the other wrapped around his throat and compressed his windpipe. The man squirmed franticly for a few moments with his arms flying in every direction, before falling limp.
Dracon laid the man down on the cold stone floor and pressed his ear to the servant’s chest. He was still alive. Good. He stood, quickly stripping off his black cotton tunic and pants and donned the servant’s. When he was fully dressed again, he tossed the unconscious man over his shoulder and carried him to the nearest pillar, positioning him behind it and out of view of any patrolling guards that might pass by.
Turning, Dracon walked back to the door, his head bowed. The cook looked up.
“Did you get the… Oh, I haven’t seen you before?” she spat suspiciously, her gruff voice filling the room.
“The Keeper of the House has reassigned me to help you tonight,” he mumbled, throwing on a mask of meekness.
“Good. Okay, take this out there.” She pointed one finger at a plate of salad, a mishmash of lettuce, tomatoes, and spinach, topped with a murky pink dressing. “And be careful. That’s suppose to be for the Lord.” He obeyed silently, picking up the plate and shuffled out the door.
Outside the kitchen, a long hallway connected to two great oaken doors. It was deserted, save for himself. Fumbling down the front of his tunic, he pulled out a small leather pouch and removed the stopper. A soft voice broke into his thoughts.
Dracon, you don’t know this man. How can you know if he deserves to die? He thought back to what he had heard in town earlier that day. When he’d asked the people what they thought of their Lord, hoping to get more information on his fortress, but all they had to say were kind things about him. They said he made sure no one went starving, even helped build homes and find work for beggars. What if he’s-
It is your duty. This man is a traitor to the crown; he supplies the rebels who wish to destroy the King, the man you have sworn to protect. You have your orders, obey them, a dark, sterner voice yelled in his mind.
The Assassin quickly shook his head. It was unlike him to have second thoughts. He quickly turned it over, a black, pepper-like powder dropping onto the plate and started forward again.
The sound of laughter hit him as he opened the door. A long wooden table satin in the middle of the dining hall. Both men and women crowded around it, laughing wildly, their faces flushed red. They were dressed in a rainbow of colors, yellows, blues, greens, and purples, all of which made of silk or other finer fabric. Their dress was obviously affecting them; sweat beaded on the men’s brow and the women fanned themselves with their delicate fans. Lord Patinore sat at the head of the table, his huge chair filled by his grotesquely deformed figure, coated in fat, and his face redder than all the other’s combined. His clothing was stained with sweat spots. But his eyes, his eyes spoke of a kindness Dracon rarely saw in a man. He was telling a joke, occasionally pausing to catch his breath or slurp down his soup. The audience hung on his every word.
“So, I tell him that… Oh, it’s about time,” he said, looking up at Dracon. “I’m withering away here.” The laughter hit a crescendo then.
“I’m sorry, my Lord. But I believe the cook took extra time on yours, to make sure it was perfect,” Dracon mumbled again. He kept his eyes on the ground as he walked forward and placed the plate in front of the large man.
“Good. You can go. And tell the cook to hurry up with the meat!”
Dracon bowed once and scurried back towards the door. He glanced back once to see the Lord shove a forkful of lettuce into his mouth, the poison-topped dressing sticking to his lips. The small voice echoed in his head once more. What if he was a good man?
Hey Kanen!
So, you know I'm a bit of a fan of yours. You already have two very good nitpick searches done for you, so I'm not going to fine comb it again, if that's alright with you. I'll just dissect it in other ways.
So.
I. UM... NITPICKS
Okay, I lied. Just a few tiny things.
You don't need to use his name.
Why is this a question?
Something I always check myself on- do you want them to say "okay" in a medieval-ish setting? If so, fine, if not, well. It's up to you, I just don't use the word if I can, but it's easy to slip up.
Why is the "d" not italicised?
The "when" seems a little redundant.
Alright.
II. THE LONELY ASSASSIN
It's a cliché, and one that makes sense- assassins don't have any friends, right?
But reading this, I noticed there's no mention of his former life other than he's an assassin and he works for the King. Wait- what?! An assassin, working for the king! That's so fricking cool! So why aren't you playing it up more?
And other than that... I'd love to see some insight into his life. Has he done jobs like this before? We don't even know what age he is. Is poison his preferred method of killing? Who gave him his orders? Does he like them, respect them, or want to thwart them?
You have [i]so much room here for characterisation, by showing us a little more inside his head. But you're not using it. While this reads wonderfully, I'm left a little in the dark, see? And that's no fun.
III. OVERALL
I do like it. Just think it could have some more depth.
Hope I helped, drop me a note if you need anything!
-Stella x
Comments and corrections in red.
Good ending. This is a good way to start the novel too, since you're starting with where the story truly began.
Apart from the grammar, there's nothing to complain about. So yeah. Dracon's character is all right, but I think you can develop it more if you tried.
Yours truly,
Kara
KD here to review!
Should be 'the rustle'.In here you have great imagery, that's the thing I can applaud you the most for.
Nitpicks:
I think this sentence would be stronger if you wrote it like this: 'He took a deep breath, the drum roll beating slowing to a steady thudding.'
Should be 'slightly'. Specify who 'the man' is.
You shouldn't mention her hair because it's always like that...it's not as if only when she looks up her hair is in a messy bun. It doesn't go.
I would take out the comma after 'short' and 'thin'.
Just to be safe, put this in italics to show that Dracon is thinking that.
Say 'Dracon struck then', because it isn't clear since the last few 'he's' were the servant's.
Should be 'frantically'. I would take out the 'with' and replace it with a comma.
Since you said 'picking', you must say 'shuffling'.
How could the leather pouch have a stopper? You probably mean something else there. Do you mean he removed the stopper of a vial that came from the pouch? And describe the vial's contents.
Should have 'and he' in front of 'even'.
Should be 'sat in'.
This is incorrectly punctuated, but I do not know exactly how to fix it! Very tricky. The easiest way out would to just say: 'They were dressed in a rainbow of colors, all of which made of silk or other finer fabric.', because anyways, the reader probably knows their colors...they get the picture if you just say 'a rainbow of colors'.
Should be 'brows', plural.
You don't need the comma after 'figure'. You should just say 'others', not 'other's'.
Wouldn't he notice the black powder in his dressing? Explain.
Great ending. I can't tell you how this adds to your story, since I have not yet read the latest chapters. Anyways, hope I helped! Practically all the nitpicks were minor messups, due to this being, as you said, a 'very, very rough draft'. Keep up the good work-
KD
Hey there! This is Esther Sylvester here to review you piece.
This was great! First I was a little cautious because I was afraid it would be really, really cheesy, but it wasn't! It flowed very nicely and left me wanting more. I have a nit pick though.
You spelled, "sat in", satin. For a second that confused me but then I realized what you were saying.
Spoiler
Very good description, although perhaps a bit cliche. It was still quite well written.
This was very exciting, so good job! Can't wait for more. Perhaps you could message me when you do.