[RV] Atrus & Isaac: A Mystery on Capitol Street

[Elven Doritos]

(Featuring the same characters as this thread, though I'm not entirely sure I like this story as much. I encourage comments and criticism.)
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Atrus's dark hazel eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze. Across the billowing smoke and dim lighting of the cheap two-story tavern, the dark man had spotted a figure of interest; a nondescript, thin man in a tan cloak, rather ordinary in the face, had taken a seat in the corner. Atrus leaned back in the squeaky oak chair, tapping his comrade on the shoulder. 'That's the one.'

Isaac Revnalli's eyes rolled open lazily. 'Huh?' The smaller man was wearing a dark brown hat that concealed his scruffy blond hair, the weathered headgear drooping across his face to conceal his features. Lifting his head from his arms, he shifted so that one crystal blue eye could see past his hat and its accompanying stray hairs. His voice was little more than a whisper. 'Him?' he questioned, groggily. 'I dunno, doesn't look like anything special.'

Atrus grinned, his prominent canines appearing almost malevolent in the flickering light of the rusty old lantern that hung on the wall. Even the normally benign scar that ran across his left eye seemed more an omen than a badly healed wound. 'That's just it,' he mused, leaning back. 'He's trying too hard to be forgettable. He's an agent.'

Isaac, still slumped over the table, gripped a heavy wooden mug. He spoke as he slid it closer. 'I'll bite. An agent of what?' He took a swig of the mug, grimacing as he gulped what seemed to be more sludge than water. I'd kill for something clean to drink... He fought back the urge to look into his drink, knowing from experience that whatever secrets it held were best left undiscovered.

Atrus's eyes lit with avarice. 'An Agent of the Republic Treasury, to be precise. And since he doesn't have a huge sack of money and thirty body guards, I'm guessing he's trying to keep a low profile.' He looked distastefully to Isaac as the smaller man took a deep drink of the mug before continuing in a hushed voice. 'Which means he's got something more valuable than taxes. I'm guessing it's an artifact that he plundered from the king's old Castle, to the south.'

Isaac narrowed his eyes in confusion, his hat sliding over his eye once again. 'Why would someone from the treasury be stealing from their own king? And how exactly do you know all of this?' Feeling a churning in his stomach, he set the mug aside. The cycle of drink, stop, drink, vomit, drink some more had become customary since he and Atrus had begun to flit between low-end taverns. This sort of living was below most men, even thieves. Especially thieves, Isaac thought.

Atrus groaned, his shark-toothed smile undeterred. 'Have I ever steered you wrong?'

Isaac spun toward him, his cap sliding to the side. Glaring at Atrus, the blond man growled, 'Yes, plenty of times.'

Keeping one eye on the man across the room and one on his irritable compatriot, Atrus shrugged innocently. 'Name one.'

Isaac's eyes widened incredulously. 'The time you left me alone in the forest with the troll?'

Atrus shook his head, his pointer finger shooting up in protest. 'The troll and I had a contract, that was simply a matter of business.'

Isaac began to count on his fingers. 'The time you left me in the guards' barracks in Darkhaven?'

Atrus crossed his arms, though his smile only broadened. 'That one doesn't count.'

Isaac's response was sharp. 'And why not?'

Atrus turned his attention fully to the smaller man. 'Because,' he said, with a  matter-of-fact tone, 'I didn't leave you in the guards' barracks in Darkhaven. That was in Lorderon.'

Isaac growled. 'Fine, how about the time with the genie--'

Atrus put his hand up, ending the conversation immediately. His eyes scanned the tavern fervently, but the tan-cloaked stranger was nowhere to be found. 'Curses, you runt. Now we've lost him.'

Isaac pulled the cap over his eyes, resting his head on the table. 'Who, the Royal Treasury guy? He went upstairs.'

Atrus opened his mouth to protest the misnomer, but decided such a conversation would accomplish as much as discussing theology with a goblin. Standing to his full height, the dark-haired man straightened his darker-still cloak and vest, surreptitiously making a path toward the stairwell. Upon reaching the stairs, he bolted upward, each footstep expertly silent.

Having ascended, the dark-eyed man leered wearily as he pressed himself against the wall, noting that the short hallway was barren, save a few doors. One door, Atrus noted with amusement, was cracked open, and the dark man crept toward it. Listening carefully, he heard nothing but the rustling of the wind, surmising that this room's tenant had left it unintentionally ajar.  As the door creaked open, he placed carefully-planted steps into the dark recesses of the dark room, finding his theory to be true; Atrus sincerely doubted, after all, that the room's occupant-- the tan-cloaked Treasury agent himself-- had intended to be  lying face-down in a pool of his own blood, several fresh stab wounds marring his back.

Against his better judgment, Atrus squatted to investigate the body. Though staining his gloves with the man's blood, he uncovered a small roll of parchment and a pouch full of gold, deftly tying both along his belt as he rose. 'Obviously not an out-and-out robbery,' he muttered, looking to shabby burlap curtains as they fluttered in the cold night wind. 'I wonder what--'

The shrill cry of a distressed woman pierced the unsettling silence.  'GOBLINS! There are goblins outside my window!'

Atrus's curious expression morphed into one of horror as he heard footsteps cascading outside the still-cracked door, his heart uncharacteristically quickening as he anticipated some unexpected intruder to discover this most unfortunate scene. Atrus snuffed out the dim candle, sidling against the furthest wall of the small bedroom. His efforts were to no avail, however, and a lantern-bearing guardsman soon burst through the chamber door. The leather-garbed stranger had a look of horror etched onto his face as he took in the scene, as he gasped, 'I-- What, what have you done?' Atrus hoped that he had not been seen, but when the guard lifted the light source for a better look of the room, the dark-clothed man groaned in disappointment.

There was a trepidation in the guard's eyes. 'You... Did you kill this man?'

Atrus eyed the open window, and then the guard. 'If I did, would I honestly tell you?'

The guard looked to his boots sheepishly. 'I... Well, now that I've given it some thought...'

Before the guard could regain his faculties, Atrus darted  out the window, analyzing the situation only in freefall. Luckily, there was a ledge within reach, and Atrus extended his arms, bracing himself for the pull of inertia. In a swift move, he swung his cloak back, pulling himself onto the ledge as he caught his breath. As more of the rooms on the first floor illuminated, he formulated a plan, crawling to the rooftop, perching himself above the room he had escaped from. From above, he spotted a few small figures vanishing into the shadows of the alleys, presumably the goblins that had spawned the ruckus.

Soon, the sound of voices permeated from the open window. Atrus remained motionless as he craned his neck to hear.

The first voice was an imperious baritone, its deep resonance giving an air of authority. 'What is going on here, soldier?'

In response, the quivering, uncertain voice of the guard squeaked. 'I, well sir, I heard a call for h-help, there were goblins on the loose...'

The deeper voice cut him off. 'And you found the body, of course. Were you alone?'

There was a pause, as if the guard was unsure how to answer. After a painful silence, he spoke. 'N-no, sir. There was a man, but he escaped out the windo--'

Before the squeamish guard could continue, Atrus spotted a man's head poking out the open window, searching to the left, right, and below him. Atrus breathed a sigh of relief as the man's head retracted into the building before muttering, 'Always look up,' under his breath.

The guard's voice resumed. 'What do we do with the body, Inspector-- I never did catch your name, actually.'

'Leave that to me,' the deeper-voiced man responded. 'Inspector Valiren. Leave the body and lantern for me, and secure the stairwell. We don't want any criminals getting up here to tamper with the evidence, after all.'

Atrus heard the distinct sound of the soldier's bootsteps departing the room, and he swung from the roof into the room. He almost laughed at the site before him; standing at nearly six foot three was a man in a misshapen black jacket that reached the floor, his hands obscured within its folds, his thick black mustache and hair practically consuming his face. 'You forgot to look up, Isaac. That would have been more convincing.'

The man slumped, peeling the mustache off to reveal a youthful grin. In mock disappointment, he asked, 'How did you know?'

Atrus took a short bow. 'I taught you everything you know, my pupil. And also, 'Valiren' is the worst anagram of 'Renvalli' I've heard... today.'

Isaac opened the jacket, revealing a pair of complex wooden stilts. Stepping out of the contraption, he peered at the body. 'I know you wanted to find out what he had, but I didn't think you'd actually kill the guy.'

Atrus gave him a bland look. 'I didn't kill him, Isaac. I found him like this.'

Isaac wagged a finger in protest. 'Oh, no you don't. You can lie to the guards, you can lie to the army, but don't lie to me.'

Atrus's face scrunched in frustration. 'I'm not lying! Look at those stab wounds, they're too small to be from any blade I've got.'

Isaac gave him a long look before turning his gaze to the body, arching his head as he examined the deep lacerations. 'Okay, maybe. My guess would be goblins?' He whirled around to face the taller man. 'Why would goblins be in the city? You're lying...'

Atrus's face reddened with anger, but he kept his voice low. 'Listen, I've never killed anyone.' Garnering a bored look from his companion, Atrus groaned. 'Okay, I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. And who wasn't threatening my personage or property. Or... Well, the point is, I didn't kill this guy!'

Isaac chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. 'Okay, okay. We've got about two minutes until an actual inspector gets here, and three until that dimwit guard figures out we fooled him. What do you propose we do?'

Atrus scratched his chin, looking to the dead man. 'Go after the goblins?'

Isaac nodded. 'Go after the goblins. What do we do, just kill them?'

Atrus stamped his foot. 'I told you, I don't kill. Often. No, we'll do the right thing; we'll round up the goblins responsible and leave them for the lawkeeps to find. Then they can murder them.'

Isaac gathered the stilts, collapsing them as he slid them into a knapsack. He began folding the cloak as he spoke. 'We should leave a note, explaining that you aren't the killer.' Having folded the coat inside-out into a lopsided brown lump, Isaac placed it on top of his head as he slid off the black wig.

Atrus shook his head, leaning out the window. 'No, we haven't the time, though you have reminded me of something.' Tossing Isaac the scroll, he began crawling out the window, onto the roof. 'Follow me.'

Isaac stuffed the wig into his bag, and then hefted the bulky pack onto his back. He stuffed the scroll into his belt as he crawled out, taking Atrus's outstretched arm to reach the roof. 'So,' the shorter man panted, pulling the scroll from his belt, 'what's this?'

Atrus gave him a dull look. 'I found it on our dearly departed friend back there. I was hoping you would tell me.'

'Oh, right.' Isaac's voice had an almost apologetic tone. 'Let me see. 'To the Sage of Westlake: We have acquired this sacred... this part's boring... So is this part.'

Atrus grunted. 'Can you at least give me the gist of it?'

Isaac rolled the parchment, replacing it at his hip. 'Actually, yes. The item in question was apparently procured from some goblin ruins on an island in the Hyrivian Sea. My guess is that the goblins wanted to steal it back.'

Atrus peered across the rooftops, shaking his head. 'I'm not so sure, it sounds a bit too smart for a goblin plot. Maybe somebody else caught wind of it, and are using the goblins to further their own agenda.'

Isaac looked unconvinced. 'I think you're underestimating goblins. Just because they're small, it doesn't mean they're dumb...' Hearing a clanking noise below them, first Isaac and then Atrus peered over the ledge, into an alleyway. There, a squat creature, no taller than three feet, was stumbling into a wall, its head stuck in a helmet that was too small.

Atrus rolled his eyes. 'You were saying?' Jumping off the brick wall and launching into a deft roll, Atrus slid next to the green-skinned creature. Grabbing the struggling monster by the shoulders, Atrus spoke with quiet confidence. 'I could kill you hear, if I so chose. Stop squirming and I'll get this off you.' The creature thrashed briefly, before realizing the futility. Atrus honored his agreement as he popped the helmet off, revealing the bloodshot red eyes, floppy ears, and tangled green hair of a goblin.

The goblin snarled, and his voice was raspy. 'What do you want?'

Atrus bowed. 'I only ask one favor. Take me to your leader.'

Isaac climbed to the bottom cautiously, talking over his shoulder as he went. 'Is that seriously the best you've got, Atrus? Remind me to never trust you with diplomacy again.'

The goblin's head darted between the two, before settling on Atrus. 'Tell your packslave not to speak out of turn, human.'

Atrus grinned broadly as Isaac reached the bottom. Atrus put a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. 'You heard our new companion, packslave. Keep to yourself.' Atrus ignored Isaac's scowls as he continued. 'Will you take me?'

The goblin eyed him cautiously, and shook his head. 'No. Not without payment.' The goblin's eerie red eye seemed to fixate on the haphazard mass atop Isaac's head.

Atrus grinned. 'Would you like my packslave's hat?' The goblin nodded.

Isaac put up his arms in protest. 'Why is it that every time someone wants something, it's always got to be mine?'

Atrus mouthed, 'Now is not the time, Isaac,' before snatching the cap, loosing strands of blond hair in every direction.

The goblin snatched it greedily, draping it religiously atop his head. 'Mmm. Follow me, then.' The garment slid across his face, though gaps between the folds conveniently left his vision unobstructed. Hopping along the alleyway, he waved his arm enthusiastically. 'Follow me, then!'

Atrus ran after him with a reluctant Isaac in pursuit. The darker man laughed as they rounded a corner. 'I can't wait to find out what was so valuable these goblins would kill for.'

Isaac grunted as they slid through a tight crevice, keeping his eye on the goblin. 'You know, sometimes it's better not to know. We could just leave...'

Atrus gave an expression of mock disgrace. 'We must clear my good name, my friend! We have no choice!'

Isaac watched the goblin hop onto a thatched rooftop, shaking his head. 'You just want to steal whatever this is and sell it on the black market...'

Atrus watched curiously as the goblin hopped back down, offering one last response to his companion. 'It pains me to think that you have such a low opinion of me, my disciple. You should treat your mentor with more respect.'

Before Isaac could respond, the goblin spoke up, his voice far more guttural than it had been moments prior. With a rubbery finger, he pointed to a shoddy old building, in obvious need of renovation. 'In there.'

Atrus bowed again. 'Thank you very much. That will be all.' Tossing the goblin a silver piece, Atrus watched with amusement as the creature hobbled away. Turning to the sour-faced Isaac, he sighed. 'Why must these lairs always be in such dingy locales?'

Isaac shook his head. 'I have a bad feeling about this.'

Atrus punched him playfully in the shoulder. 'Don't be such a coward, boy. Let's go find out who has my treasure.'

'Our treasure,' Isaac corrected.

Turning the rusted iron handle on the battered wooden door, Atrus sighed. 'Yes, our treasure,' he conceded. Stepping into the squalid entry room, he spoke as though in a mausoleum, for fear of an avalanche: 'Hello?'

Isaac followed him, keeping the door cracked with the heel of his left foot. 'Be careful,' he whispered.

Turning back to face the blond-haired man, Atrus spread his arms wide. 'Relax, Isaac! They're just a bunch of stupid goblins, what could I possibly...'

A gravelly voice pierced the shadows with deadly precision. 'Artemis.'

Atrus' eyes widened, and Isaac saw for the first time a genuine semblance of fear spreading across his features. The darker man twirled around, the trembling in his hands the only hint of his condition. 'Actually, I go by 'Atrus' now. Too many assassins were using the name.'

What Isaac saw next astounded him. In full plate, jet-black armor that seemed unnaturally mobile, a goblin-- or at least, what looked vaguely like a goblin in features and height-- was holding a shortsword that burned with the fires of the Hells themselves. The creature's ash-black skin was clean to the point of gleaming in the sword's light, and his shoulder-length starch white hair was neatly parted in the side, hanging in two symmetrical curtains on either side of his calm visage. Two red eyes gleamed with intelligence and precision.

Atrus moved as though to bow, but the armored goblin held the sword higher. The dark-haired man opted to nod courteously instead. 'King Maug. It's still 'King', is it not?'

The goblin's nose curled in anger. 'Of course it is still 'King.' I am, and always will be, the supreme ruler of the goblin people.'

Atrus gulped. 'You're not still angry with me, are you?' The goblin's face somehow grew angrier, and Atrus finally understood. 'Ah. This was all an attempt to lure me here, to enact revenge over some long-forgotten squabble between the two of us? Let me guess, there was never even an artifact.'

The goblin leered at the man, though he did not take a step closer. 'Oh, there was an artifact. I'm holding it in my hands.' Drawing the blade into an offensive position, he growled. 'And although I only learned of your presence within the city today, I managed to set up this meeting. I consider this a fringe benefit to my activities here.'

Atrus grinned. 'You never cease to amaze me, Maug. Would you mind telling me what those--' Maug put up an ebony gauntlet, and suddenly, the clack of a crossbow heralded the burrowing bolt that lodged into Atrus's shoulder. Isaac could have sworn he saw the guard from before in the shadow, but chalked it up to a trick of light.

Maug turned, walking into same dark doorway he had emerged from. 'Young man, you might want to reconsider your career choice. I will let you leave and bury your friend, but not everyone will be so generous, especially considering who you associate yourself with.'

Quickly pulling Atrus over his shoulders, Isaac hurriedly carried him out of the building and as far from that terrible place as possible. When his shoulders finally gave out, he rolled Atrus onto the brick street, plucking the dart out of his shoulder in amazement; the small vial of poison connected to the dart was still full!

Atrus laughed, causing Isaac to jump. 'Maug never did doublecheck his trigger mechanisms, it was a faulty dart.'

Isaac kicked the taller man in the knee, injuring his own foot in the process. 'You had me carry you all this way, and you weren't dead? You weren't even hurt?'

Atrus smirked, hopping onto his feet. 'It's been a busy day, what can I say? I needed the ride.'

Isaac rubbed his foot, glaring at the man. There was so much about the scenario that didn't make sense. Why would that goblin guy just let me leave? Why did he hate Atrus so much? For that matter, why did he call him 'Artemis'? And what if that was the guard back there?

Isaac shrugged, mumbling to himself. 'Sometimes, it's better not to look in the mug.'

Atrus stretched, turning to his companion.'What's that?'

Isaac faced him, shaking his head. 'Nothing.'

[Numinous]

A simple and enjoyable story ElDo, kudos.  My favorite part was the mug metaphor at the end.  Keep writing!

[Túrin]

Again, very nice. Atrus and Isaac are interesting characters.

Túrin