The Known Sword

The High Priest’s Daughter


The White Owl was a shit hole, almost literally. The floors swam in a mix of urine, shit and what she hoped was stale beer. It was full of shifty sorts, and she could feel ravenous eyes roaming over her curves. Clearly they had idea who she was. She guessed that was the whole point. Still, her dress was not the best for this place, floor length skirt doing an ample job of mopping up a lot of the mess. She knew this was the last time she would be wearing this dress. Shame. Silk was hard to come by, and it did flatter her body so.

Whomever had decided to meet her was a bloody idiot who had no idea of fashion. She did not like that. It must be a man. She was sure even the lowest woman would have enough sense to never step foot in this place. Foot. Her shoes were ruined too.

She squelched her way through to the bar and waited for the barman to come to her. He never did, and that annoyed her. She made a large coughing noise, but the barkeep simply looked and rolled his eyes. He continued to chat to a man across the bar. Many thoughts came to her. She could reveal some skin, that normally got mens attention. The trouble with that was she may get the attention of everyman in this place, and she was sure a bloodbath would draw the wrong kind of attention. She could plop money on the counter. It would bring the barman, men would almost anything for money, but it risked her getting robbed. A robbery (even an attempted one) would probably see her knocked to the floor. She had no desire to writhe around in that shit box. She smiled. Sometimes the direct approach was the best.

She strode over the the barkeep, and the man he was talking to. With one punch she knocked the man out and threw him to the floor, taking his seat across from the barman. She smiled sweetly at him. He did not smile back.

“That were my friend” he said.

She smiled.

“That is why he is still alive. Annoy me anymore, and that state will be temporary” she said.

“What ‘ya want?” he said.

“The private room. I believe sparrow is important” she said.

Everything about the man changed; his posture, his look. He went from looking like an ill tempered barkeep to a smart man undercover.

“Of course. My apologies. I was told to expect somebody else. This way” he said.

He lead her to the back of the bar, pressed a few panel in the wall and the wall swung open.

“Down the stairs. Follow the light” he said.

He almost laughed as he said it. This man was clearly no friend of the paladins. She liked that. She was not a creature of light, but neither was she a creature of darkness like so many believed. Paladins would never let her live, so they must be forced to leave; dead or alive. She was not a fan of alive.

She followed the tunnel, and knew she would not be leaving through the White Owl. Of course, the fact this tunnel was a sewer meant she was wading through shit regardless. In fact, she was pretty sure the shit was getting deeper. She started to wonder if she would even hear this mysterious figure out, or just kill them for forcing through all this crap. She flexed her wrist, enjoying the feeling of her dagger strapped there. It had been awhile since she had been allowed out to kill. Her dad would be angry though.

The sewer stopped at a wooden door atop a few steps. She made her way up and the door flew open. She walked in, the door slamming shut behind her. Two torches lit the small room, revealing a small table with a chair on either side. She took her seat on the closest chair, and waited.

And waited.

Patience was not one of her strong points. She blew out the torches. She liked the darkness. She leapt over the desk and smashed down the door. A beautiful hallway lead down the other side. She smirked. Maybe it was a woman she was due to meet, a woman who made men wade through shit while she walked over luxurious carpet. She just hoped whomever it was would forgive her for leaving shitty footprints on the clean carpet.

As she neared the end of the hallway she could hear music playing. It was not the crisp sound of a live band, but the tinny music of that damned contraption that somehow recorded the sounds. She had no idea how technology worked, she just knew she did not like it. And she definitely did not like that she was kept waiting as someone lounged around listening to caged music.

She broke down the door to the room with ease, daggers in both hands. She rushed in, and stopped.

“Mother?” she said.

The woman smiled.

“I knew he wouldn’t come. I never expected him to send anybody. So he is in?” the mother said.

“He said he would listen and see” the daughter replied.

The mother laughed.

“If you are here, he has already decided. It is time to bring the paladins down, and reclaim what was once ours” she said. “Right now as a family we are all on the same page. But listen to my words, girl. One day soon your father and I’s paths will diverge once more and you will decide whose path you will follow”.