Tribunal

         Overlooking the vast desert from his perch atop one of the many hills, Naro could barely make out a large town on the horizon through the sandstorm.  Naro smirked to himself. “It seems I’ll be seeing civilization in this god-forsaken place after all.”  Naro pulled his black traveling cloak over his face to protect himself from the harsh desert sands.
*          *          *
         “This’ll teach ya to miss a payment!” one of three unarmed street thugs yelled as they slammed their fists into a young pregnant woman.  Naro watched for a moment only to see who was really in the wrong.  It wasn’t long before Naro’s sense of justice took over.
         “You three!  What ‘payment’ did this woman miss?” Naro asked keeping his face covered from the thugs.
         The shouting thug grinned wickedly “Why, her protection payment of course.”
         “Protection?  From who?” Naro asked.
         “Us.  Our guild controls this part of town.” He motioned to the other two thugs, laughing as he turned around to continue their beating.
         With demon-like speed Naro sprung forward pulling out his dual daggers from his belt, pushing his cloak aside and revealing his well-toned figure.  Naro slid his dagger into the shouting thug’s back sending the thug’s dead form to the ground.  Before anyone had realized what happened, another thug was soon to be dead—his throat slit open.  Naro’s traveling cloak was still pulled over his face—revealing nothing to his opponent.  The third thug turned to run only to trip on his nearly decapitated friend.  Naro’s daggers came in swiftly with perfect aim onto the thug’s heart.
         The pregnant woman laid on the ground, her dress covered in the thug’s blood.  “Who was the victim here?” Naro asked coldly.
         “What?”  The woman looked at her savior incredulously.
         “Who was the victim?  You,” Naro turned to the dead bodies on the ground, “or them?”  She seemed to think about it for a small time before Naro continued, “Never mind, it’s a fool’s question.  Here, take this.” Naro placed a small bag of gold coins in the woman’s hand as he helped her up.  “This will end.” Naro promised
         The woman looked down at the bag, and then looked up to thank him only to find that he was gone.  She soon realized she didn’t even have a face to describe—nothing but a black cloak.
*          *          *
         Naro moved quickly down the street to avoid the eyes of everyone.  He approached a small tavern named the Icy Wind.  Naro stepped inside to see a classical—even expected atmosphere of a tavern.  People were talking, laughing, and arguing at their small tables.  On one side of the tavern was a slightly elevated stage used by anyone that wished to perform.  The stage was empty.
         “Oh, it has been too long.” Naro grinned to himself as he took off his cloak and removed a small harp from his bag.  No one noticed or cared as Naro took the center stage.  No one cared that is, until he began singing to the music of his harp.  It wasn’t long before Naro had the entire tavern wrapped in his story of heroic battles and unlikely heroes.
         When Naro’s song finally ended and things returned to normal in the Icy Wind, the bartender approached Naro, “Perhaps I could convince you to come back tomorrow and perform again?  Maybe a free room and drinks on the house would persuade you?”
         “I could use a place to stay, and you can keep your drinks.  I sing for my own pleasure.”  Naro grinned, the wheels were in motion.
*          *          *
         “The Tribunal, ‘coursh.” Vid, a haggard old drunkard, answered as he poured half the contents of another beer bottle down his throat—the other half soaking his shirt. 
         Naro and Vid had sat down for conversation after Naro’s performance that night.  Naro had graciously supplied the alcohol, and Vid supplied the information.
         “Oh?  Who are the Tribunal?” inquired Naro, ordering another drink for his very informative friend.
         The drunkard gave Naro a strange look, and then replied, “They’rish da headsh of the threeshtrongish three thief guildsh OF the shcity!  Th-they control everyshing!” Naro said nothing, however he did raise an eyebrow as the drunkard continued, “They are the gover’mensh, the polishe, the militia, and thieves!  Everyshing in this shcity is u-un-under one of their con’rol!”
         “Would you happen to know anything about the guild leaders in the Tribunal, by chance?”  After sorting through the drunkard’s thick accent, Naro ordered him another drink.          
         “There’sh Pasha Tark, Pasha Everon, and Pasha Darrup.  Pasha Tark ish there thanksh to hish d-dip-diplomaticsh.  Pasha Everon wazh an accomplished thief—until HE hired pershonal b-body guardsh.”
         After a short pause Naro prompted, “and what of Pasha Darrup?”
         “No ONE knowsh.  Pasha Darrup movesh in the shafety of the shadowsh not even the other two of the Tribunal know where he is.” 
         A fight broke out in the tavern, and Vid rushed to watch it—or rather rushed to join it.  Naro let his informant go into the melee, after all Naro had all the information he’d need for now.  He had an idea of how the town was run and now he had an idea of where to begin his hunt.
*          *          *
         As Naro sat on the edge of the wooden bed his mind drifted.  Drifted to thoughts of times long passed.  He thought of how much that pregnant women looked like his mother.  It wasn’t her face, her hair, or anything of that sort—no; it was the bruises on her body that reminded him of his mother.
         Naro actually shed a tear as his long dead mother came into his thoughts.  She had done nothing wrong she was as honest as any human being in that corrupted town.  Yet, she is the one that died.  She died—or rather was killed—all because she denied a noble his lust.  Naro can remember that day perfectly—how could he forget?  It was the day he lost everything. 
         It was dusk almost a decade ago, harsh knocking came at the door, “This is the Town Guard!  Open your door now!”  Without even a moment to reply the weak wooden door burst inward—the splinters slicing open many wounds in Naro’s younger brother as he was going to open the door.
         In charged several guards in mail armor with swords drawn each going after a different family member.  Naro was in the back room hiding—hoping that they wouldn’t see him.  How he wished he could’ve done something for his mother as on guard spat in her face and yelled “You are to be executed on sight for attempted murder of nobility!”
         “What?  I never—!”  She tried to defend her case.  It was too late however as each guard was already received their gold for killing her.  They had promised to make it slow and painful—and that is exactly what they did.
         Her body was thrown out the destroyed front door onto the dirt street.  She tried to stand up and run—only to have a pummel slam into her face making her nose bleed.  They began to ruthlessly beat her—the guards not already occupied with holding the rest of the family to the ground.  It wasn’t long before Naro had enough and ran away as fast and as far as he could.  He swore himself to bring justice to the corrupt—but at the time all he could do was run.
         Naro opened his eyes to see his nails digging into the skin of his knees.  He remembered then the cool self-control of the inner assassin and calmed himself.  Naro knew he needed rest.
*          *          *
         “Pasha Tark’s guild house is just down that street?” Naro asked a nearby merchant, pointing down a wide avenue.
         The merchant only gave a quick nod before ‘shooing’ Naro away.  It was only mid-morning and the desert sun was already scorching the streets.
         Naro found the building; hardly impressive by any standards.  It was just as beat up and broken down as every other house in this city.  In front of the entrance sat a homeless man dressed in rags—his arms hidden underneath the rags—with a tin cup sitting in front of him.  He appeared to be looking down—Naro knew better.  What appeared to be a homeless bum; would more than likely turn out to be a well armed guard of Pasha Tark’s house. 
         Naro walked near the homeless man—Naro could see his muscles tense underneath the rags as he approached.  Naro stopped just out of a direct attack’s range and threw a gold coin into the tin cup.  The man’s expression widened.
         Naro stretched while looking up to the sky, “I wonder where an honest man can get a good drink in this town?”
         “The Dragon’s Breath at sundown.” The homeless man replied—knowing Naro’s game. 
         Naro turned to him—looking confused, “Oh?  And what of the company in the bar?”
         “More honest men doing dishonest deeds then you’ll ever wish you could meet.” The homeless man replied again.  Naro said nothing more, he didn’t have to.  Everything was perfectly in place.
*          *          *
         “Once you get into ol’ Tark’s room there’ish notshing there but women an’ ale.” Naro was surprised at just how quickly this ‘guard’ was willing to spill everything about his guild; his friends, his family, and Naro even accidentally got his life story.  It was easy to get the information—the hard part was keeping him on track.
         “Thank you.  Now,” Naro glared at the man, “I don’t think I can trust you not to mention my name or face to anyone.”  The guard had no time to react before Naro’s dagger had sliced through the guard’s throat.  “Please forgive me.  If I do not shed blood for justice—no one will.” Naro whispered to himself.  It was time to kill Pasha Tark.
*          *          *
         Naro moved silent as death along the streets.  Night would fade into day within a couple of hours and Naro had many people to kill before the night would be over.
         He approached the building seeing another ‘homeless’ man stationed out front.  The guard never heard him coming—a dagger in his throat prevented him from screaming as he slumped over—positioned exactly as he was before hand.  Naro spun and ran down the alleyway between this building and the next and started climbing.  His goal was a window near the top that would allow him to bypass many guards and the sleeping quarters of the rest of the guild.  Naro pulled hung on the ledge waiting for the expected patrol.
         Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Naro could hear the man’s loud boots clearly in the crisp desert night air.  Naro waited and listened for a second.  The patrolling guard turned around just as Naro sprung himself over the ledge and onto the man’s back while plunging both of his daggers into the man’s throat.  Naro let the body down gently and continued running—he only had a couple of minutes before someone realized the guard was dead.  By then however, Naro intended to be long gone.
*          *          *
         Three more lay dead at the skilled hands of Naro.  There was more resistance than the guard had mentioned.  It didn’t matter now, it didn’t make a difference—they’re all dead.
         Naro studied the door that would lead him to the Pasha’s bedroom.  Apparently Pasha Tark indulged himself in several of the seven deadly sins Lust, Gluttony, Greed, and Sloth were his offenses.  Each of which he would pay for with his life tonight.
         Several traps were in place of the Pasha’s room—at least he wasn’t stupid.  The last trap was disarmed and Naro opened the door a crack to hear a loud moan emit from the room.  Naro sighed to himself, tightened his cloak around his face to ensure his disguise.
         “Out of my way!  I’m here for him and him only!”  Naro shouted as he kicked the door in and rushed toward a fat, naked Pasha Tark.  All nine women—not wanting to be there anyways—tried to find their clothes and ran for their lives.  “You know why I’m here, Pasha Tark.”
         The Pasha swallowed hard.
         “Your corrupt leadership has brought my wrath upon you.  Tonight that ends, for the sake of justice, your life ends tonight!” Naro brought down both daggers into the man’s chest.  Tark tried to shout for help only to have it quickly turn into a low gargle as another dagger met his triple chin.
         “That’s the fourth body we’ve found!  Whoever did this is dangerous—and is in our Pasha’s personal quarters!”  Naro could hear the shouts of other guards from outside.
         “Damn.” Naro cursed under his breath as he ran out the door.  Naro quickly hid himself behind the open door just as the remaining guards of the night’s watch rushed into the Pasha’s room.
         “We’re too late!” someone yelled, “He couldn’t have gotten far!  Find him!”  By then it was too late.  Naro had slipped out of the room just as the rest had entered and was long on his way to the window he had come in.  Naro moved quickly and silently as a foreboding wind.
         Naro made it back to his small apartment with no problems—except those on his own conscience.  It seemed no matter how good he got at killing he always had to ask himself ‘Is this really justice?’
*          *          *
         “Have you heard the rumors?”  asked Everon standing in a secret room underneath a tavern.  It was usually used for storage—however it doubled as one of the Tribunal’s many meeting spots.  However on this day the third member had failed to show up.
         “Rumors?  Good Pasha, I know the rumors.  You forget who you’re talking to,” replied the ever cold Darrup.  “You seem to forget that I have informants that could tell me how long it took you to get ready, which route you took to arrive at this location and that you plan to have lunch with a rather lovely lady by the name of Aulren.”
         Darrup was right—as usual.  Everon had come to expect such things from him.  It was still amazing how he could get so much information in such a short span of time.
         “Pasha Tark is dead.”  Darrup coldly answered.  “It was an assassin—one of great skill.  I’d advise you keep your defenses up until we find him.  I for one am going hunting.” Darrup grinned evilly, sending chills down Everon’s spine.  Everon never did like what the grin always seemed to result in.
*          *          *
         Naro slipped himself a drug—one he had used before to keep him awake and alert for days.  Although the drug would put him to sleep for a long while, he only needed a few days to complete his justice.  Naro, knowing that the other two in the Tribunal would know of the Tark’s death, tried to keep his questions to a minimum.  Not wanting to look suspicious however, Naro still played every night in the tavern. 
         He had most of the information he needed to kill Pasha Everon.  It seemed as this one would be just as easy as the last kill—only with more guards.  Naro kept all of his actions to a minimum saving energy provided by the drug for when he’d need it most.
*          *          *
         That night there was a weak howling wind.  It seemed tonight Naro would be able to use the wind to cover the sounds of his tracks.  Naro slipped his daggers from their sheaths—inspecting them—the blades grinned wickedly for the blood of tonight’s victim.
         Naro slipped silently between the shadows and moonlight.  Arriving at what he understood to be Pasha Everon’s guild house.  Naro knew it was careless of him to go even attempt killing another leader such as Pasha Everon without more information then he had.  His blades had tasted the blood of the corrupt and hungered for more.
         No other way in could be found—the few windows there were had been sealed recently by bricks.  This left only the front entrance.  Just as Naro began thinking of a way in—out walked a guard, covered head to toe in armor.
*          *          *
         Naro walked into the guild house completely covered by the acquired armor.  He was greeted warmly—almost similar to what he remembered a family treating him like.  However, these people weren’t his concern.  He pretended to be sick and walked past them without saying a word.  After searching the building Naro found a door that was heavily trapped.  He grinned at the simple thought of how easy it was to find a Pasha’s private quarters.  He hastily undid every single trap and lock on the door.
         The well greased door opened silently.  Naro walked in to see four heavily armed and armored body guards—and one heavily armored Pasha Everon.  The only communication given was Naro’s blades swiftly finding a stitch in the plate armor of one body guard—sending him quickly to his death.  Swiftly spinning, Naro found that the second guard had failed to place armor around his neck.  Naro drove both daggers home into the guard’s neck.
         Again two guards lay dead without anyone taking note of what happened.  Even in the encumbering armor, Naro’s speed was still faster than most people.  One of the remaining guards tried to yell out for help—only to have a dagger find another rip in the seams of his plate armor.  The last guard feared for his life and tried to run away—only to be met by Pasha Everon’s great sword slicing him in half.
         “It seems these guards didn’t help much in the end after all.”  the Pasha spit on the ground with a low growl.
         “Pasha Everon, once a skilled thief, pickpocket, and even a guard.  Have you become so weak to depend on others for your protection?”  Naro spoke softly.
         Everon tried to defend himself, “I swear I had nothing to do with that pregnant woman’s beating!  My guild does not collect ‘protection’ fees as Tark’s does.”
         “Your guild may not have been involved in that incident, but would you try to tell me that your guild has never done anything wrong?” Pasha Everon swallowed hard as Naro continued saying the exact same words every corrupt person he killed heard last, “For sake of justice, your life ends tonight!”
         Before Naro could bring his daggers to bear, Pasha Everon spoke, “Justice?  What kind of justice leaves the very people they’re trying to protect in chaos?”  Naro held his daggers at bay, listening impassively, “With Pasha Tark dead, all of his subordinates are now vying for power.  What was once a guild is now several gangs fighting for Pasha Tark’s territory!  Innocent civilians are now caught up in their chaos, and you call that justice?  You’re no better than any of the Tribunal.”
         With the final comment made, Naro sped forward—having removed all of the encumbering armor.  Naro’s daggers went for the same rip in the side of Pasha Everon’s armor.  This time however, instead of finding soft and exposed flesh—the daggers found hard armor.
         Naro quickly side stepped moving himself behind Pasha Everon.  Naro went for the neck only to be met by armor again!  He jumped back quickly getting enough distance between the two to prevent an immediate counter strike from Pasha Everon’s great sword.  “I hired the best smiths in the city to build this armor.  Inside this armor I can withstand any of your attacks!” Naro studied the Pasha, looking for some form of weakness in the armor, “Don’t bother there is no weakness in this armor.  I will tire you and then kill you and prove to you that I am still just as good a fighter now as I was then!”
         Pasha Everon rushed forward bringing his great sword over his head.  As the sword crashed to the floor, the agile Naro dodged.  Naro would not waste his energy on a futile counter attack.  Instead Naro intended to study the armored Pasha.  All armor has a weakness—it’s just a matter of finding it.
         Pasha Everon’s great sword came in horizontally as Naro quickly ducked.  Naro took the brief moment to study the underside of the armor—again he saw no openings no seams.  The great sword came crashing downward leaving the distracted Naro only moments to avoid the attack.  Not even Naro had time to dodge.  Instead he brought his daggers in front of him in an X shape.  Even then the sheer weight of the sword pushed Naro to the ground.  The Pasha leaned eagerly on the blade—thinking to crush Naro underneath the sword’s pressure. 
         Everon had made his first terrible mistake.  While lying on his back, Naro found a weakness within the impenetrable armor—the ankle.  The crease between the armored shoes and the leggings left a small gap to allow movement. 
         Everon lifted his great sword hoping to swing downward and crush Naro.  Everon had apparently forgotten about Naro’s formidable speed—his second and final terrible mistake.
         As the great weight of the sword lifted Naro saw his chance and flipped forward landing on his stomach—his knives finding the crease perfectly.  Everon seemed to freeze instantly—dropping his weapon and falling backwards.  Naro sprang on the fallen man pinning his arms without any resistance.  After finding the clamps, Naro pulled the man’s helmet off.  Everon’s face was pale—either from not getting much sun or from recently passing out Naro assumed.
         It seemed that no one had the fight—fortunately.  Naro drove his daggers into the base of Everon’s neck.  “Justice for all those you have wronged.”  Naro turned around putting his stolen armor back on and walking out of the room.
         Not even one person realized their precious Pasha was dead until morning.
*          *          *
         Darrup chuckled silently to himself, “Foolish assassin.  You will be dead tomorrow, and the only purpose you’ll have served is giving me complete power.”  The cautious and silent Darrup left his perch on the rooftops after tracking Naro’s movements to his room at the Tavern.  “There is much to prepare, Naro.”
*          *          *
         Naro sat on the edge of his bed—meditating as he had done everyday of his life as a traveler and assassin.  He was dragged back to the real world when he heard footsteps—not the footsteps of some civilian, but the footsteps of several armed and trained fighters. 
         Naro stood up quickly gathering his precious daggers and gathering what food and supplies he needed.  He could hear a knock followed by a male voice “Naro!  You are hereby sentenced to death on sight!”
         “That’s if you can find me.” grinned Naro as he dove out the window of his tavern room and rolled onto the street.  As Naro hit the ground, he could hear the door of his room being broken down—as Naro hit the ground, he ran.
         Just as Naro slowed down—assuming he had lost the armed men—he heard the twang of an arrow and quickly ducked, maneuvering his dagger to intercept an arrow.  “Archers on the rooftops, damn it.”  Naro whispered to himself as he pulled off his cloak using it to catch the arrows. 
         Naro threw the cloak in the air and ran to the nearest alleyway—to the archers it seemed as if he had just vanished.  Safe—for now—from the armed men and the archers, Naro planned his next move.  He had to kill Pasha Darrup—and fast.  Naro heard a movement behind him and spun quickly to meet his newest adversary—Pasha Darrup.
         “We settle this now.”  Pasha Darrup said with complete confidence.
         “Pasha Darrup, you have been charged with Wrath and Pride.  For the sake of justice—your life ends here.”  Naro grinned taking a small step forward—daggers drawn.
         “Wrath and Pride?” Pasha Darrup asked, not backing down an inch, “Naro, I could charge you with the same.  If you kill me now, more injustice will be bred.  Do you see the streets?  What used to be calm and controlled is now filled with chaos.  Killing me would plunge the remainder of the city into chaos.  I am the last string holding this city together.” 
         Naro cleared the remaining distance between the two fighters in an instant.  His blades only met air.  Realizing that this opponent had indeed dodged his attack, Naro dove to the side, narrowly avoiding Pasha Darrup’s blade.
         After the initial moves of the fight, both Darrup and Naro put all their energy into their blades.  Both fighters’ movements were but a blur as neither could gain an advantage over the other.  Small gashes appeared on each of the deadly fighters’ faces—neither flinched in the least.
         Darrup found an opening in Naro’s defensive maneuvers and kicked Naro hard.  Instead of being stopped by the kick, Naro rolled backward with it using the momentum to put distance between him and his identically skilled fighter.  Both rushed in at the same moment continuing their dance of death.
         Naro’s defenses faltered in the exact same spot as before and as before Darrup went for the kick.  This time, however, Naro’s ‘mistake’ was entirely intentional.  A dagger flew from Naro’s hand into the vulnerable Darrup’s chest.  Naro accepted the kick knowing it would be the last he would receive from this man.
         Naro listened to the final breaths of the Pasha as Naro looked up to the sky.  He asked himself the same question after every kill “Is this justice?”
*          *          *
         With the guild masters slain, Naro spent only a day more in the city to care for his wounds and prepare for the road again.  As Naro walked out of the tavern he could hear the shouts from a nearby gang.  Something about territory, “Evil always turns in on itself.  This will heal itself.”  Naro lied to himself, how many cities had he left in complete chaos only to find years later that the city was still deep inside that chaos?
         Naro walked out of the city hardly caring—his blades were satisfied and so too was his justice.  “It will heal itself.” He lied again.