Tales From Koizana

1: Once Upon A Time...

"I don't like it Sabichi, I don't like it all"

Darvin Sabichi sighed back into his chair, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, and closed his eyes.

He inhaled deeply in an attempt to center himself and quell the rising anger he felt burning in the back of his throat. It was a familiar technique, one he had been using for years and usually, it worked, but not today.

Today it took all of his self-control to not just reach across the table and throttle the life out of Adlan Westlinake.

Maybe it was the consistent hustle and bustle that always seemed to fill The Blackend Hand Tavern that was starting to grate on his nerves. This was the usual meeting place for cutthroats, villains, and bandits across the state to drown their sorrows and plan their next great heist so it was always a hive of activity, and today was no exception, or maybe, just maybe, he was sick and tired of having his every decision questioned by the rest of his rogues.

"I didn't ask you if you liked it Adlan, I fucking you if it could be done"

He opened his eyes and stared hard at his compatriot, a familiar gaze that signified the discussion was over.

It was something that Adlan and the other two members of Sabichi's Rogues, Branria Colombera, and Son'ar Zhu, had grown accustomed to overtime and had even named the "Full Stop".

Whenever it was unleashed, no matter if the subject was this month's Greebo Blood Bowl or whether the contract he'd accepted would see them all dead by The Three Suns set, it meant Sabichi was done and, for the health of everyone else involved, they had better be as well.

Adlan had never tried to push the point beyond this conclusion, not out of any fear for his own safety but as a mark of respect for the man who had taken him in, put a roof over his head, and kept him gainfully employed.

In fact, both of them knew that if it ever came down to it Sabichi wouldn't have stood a chance.

Sure, he was the toughest bastard that Adlan had ever known and he could've disposed of most men with relative ease, and indeed had whenever the occasion called for it, but Adlan was a different proposition.

For generations the Westlinake Family had served the Romuratsun Clan as their own personal Lawbringers, helping them maintain their iron grip over The Malkit Nation.

When they were called upon they were judge, jury, and executioner, and they were called upon on a frequent basis.

Enemies of the regime, rivals from opposing clans, dissidents, and undesirables, anyone who fell outside of The Romuratsun's ideal of a perfect utopia would be met with brutal and vicious justice.

It was into this world that Adlan had been born and from his first breath he had been groomed to continue in the family's tradition.

By the age of five, he was as deadly with a blade as anyone that had come before him - a skill he had honed on the long hunts with his family to supply meat for his people - by age seven he was highly proficient in all forms of close combat, though Kin Pen So was his art of choice and by age nine he was ready to make his first kill.

His target had been Otan Zevery who ran one of the thousands of Hole-In-The-Wall stores that were scattered throughout Malkit.

These places sold nothing out of the ordinary, just everyday essentials, and the man himself was nothing if not unremarkable.

No criminal record, no history of shady dealings, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

He was a Loyalist who paid his taxes on time and never complained.

That was until recently.

The latest round of tax increases had been seen as particularly harsh in ceratin sections and this had caused Otan Zevery to speak out against them one night, while quite heavily drunk, to a local informant.

Normally such a minor transgression would have been met with a heavy fine and six months in jail but the murmurs of discontent that had been growing louder over the weeks and months had led The Romuratsun Clan, and especially its head Lasar Romuratsun, to feel an example had to be made before whispers turned into fully blown screams of discord.

When the word came down that Otan Zevery would be that unfortunate example it had been decided by Adlan's Sensi, his grandfather Tymak, that the young child was ready to be blooded and that a job as simple as this would be the perfect time to do so.

As was the custom amongst their ranks, he had accompanied him to pass The Final Judgement.

If the boy passed this test he would be allowed to take a souvenir, that he would be expected to keep with him at all times, before being activated as a fully-fledged Shadow for the family.

If he failed or even hesitated in any way then Tymak would kill Otan Zevery himself before sending his grandson into The Bloodless Void.

"There is no room for weakness in this life Adlan" he had said as they perched on top of an adjacent building, waiting for Otan Zevery to close up shop for the night. "Weakness will only see you dead, so better by the hand of someone who loves you than at the hands of a faceless stranger"

In the end, Tymak Westlinake had had nothing to worry about.

As the hunched and aged figure switched off the lights and stepped out of the front door, the boy had moved with the fluidity of quicksilver.

As he had turned to lock up Adlan had silently dropped down behind him, pulled his blade from its sheath, and cut the old man's throat from ear to ear.

As he had staggered forward, clutching with both hands at the gaping wound that ran across his neck, Otan Zevery had slumped against the wooden frame before managing to turn himself around to look at his killer.

His eyes were wide with disbelief, the crimson running through his fingers, though his killer's face may have been obscured by the long black hair that fell like a death veil across it, there was no mistaking what he was.

"Just..a child" Otan Zevery had croaked, the blood now filling his mouth "You're just..a..child"

And with that, his light was gone.

Adlan had felt no emotion as he stared down at the body that lay before him, instead he set about the task of taking his trophy.

With the skill of a hunter working his downed pray he had removed both Achilles tendons so he could dry them out and fashion them into a bracelet that he would wear around his left arm to this very day.

It was a reminder of his first kill, a reminder of the life he had once led, and a reminder that he could never go back even if he had wanted to.

But right now it was just something he could concentrate on while he weighed up the pros and cons of what he was being asked.

"Well?" Sabichi said impatiently "Can it be done or not?"

"If you're asking me if we can break into The Maxchell Compound, retrieve the package our client wants and then get out again then yes, I think we can"

He watched a smile start to break across Darvin Sabichi's weathered face and a devilish gleam enter his blue eyes.

He looked far older than his 39 years, almost as if time itself had taken a personal interest in beating him down with a very large bat, but the harshness of his reality always seemed to dissipate whenever that childish glee raised its head.

"If, on the other hand," Adlan continued reaching down and picking up his glass of Volat Spirit and finishing it "You're asking me if we can do all that and get away unharmed then I'd say I highly doubt it."

For a split second, it looked as if Sabichi's happy demeanor was about to be washed away and replaced with something far more surly but instead, he grabbed hold of his own drink, drained it in one swift movement, slammed the glass down on the table and let out a raucous laugh.

"Highly doubt it isn't a definite no" he roared at the top of his lungs "And that's good enough for me"

Adlan had known Sabichi for long enough to know that when he got an idea like this in his head there was no point in trying to change his mind, it was better to just swim along with the tide than get dragged under and drown.

Reaching into the pocket of his coat he pulled out a long wooden pipe, filled it with high-grade tobacco, and lit it. The two men sat in silence for a while, just staring at the smoke dancing in the air between them.

"Alright you crazy bastard," Adlan said with a tired shake of the head "I'll get Branria and Son'ar to meet us tomorrow morning and we'll take it from there but," he said staring Sabichi straight in the eyes "I don't like it, I don't like it all"

Darvin Sabichi's face lit up once again as he grabbed the bottle of Volat and poured them both a very large drink.

"My friend" he smiled "What you don't like could fill a warehouse"