Ignoring History - Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

Chapter 4

~🏹Halt🏹~

There were two brutes watching him. People always watched him, but these two watched him with interest. Halt leaned back against his chair, pulling his cowl over his face. They weren't even trying to be discreet about it. They turned their heads from their separate corners of the room simultaneously every ten minutes. Halt drained the coffee he had ordered, smacking his lips. He stared at the empty mug in disappointment but got up and left anyways. It was always uncomfortable to be watched.

It was a hot day. Hot and stormy. The air was dampened with moisture, sticking onto his skin. Rain pattered downwards like sharp arrows. Halt walked through the storm, a hint of a smile upon his lips despite the weather. His pockets jingled with coins and riches, a good day's worth of work.

He had of course robbed Geoffrey Alard, the richest man in La Rivage. He chuckled to himself. No one had ever succeeded a robbery in his estate. No one except him, of course. Halt patted his pockets. Geoffrey Alard was a stupid man. He was fat, greedy, a great scumbag. The man probably wouldn't even notice a thing.

Halt walked in the forest, skillfully navigating through the thick foliage. Known by all of Gallica and soon the rest of the world, he was the greatest thief and assassin ever to have lived. He could even scare a Genovesan Assassin away. Halt prided himself in it, even if the world had dulled.

After he ran away from Hibernia, he had traveled to Araluen in hopes of completing his ranger training. That, of course, didn't go to plan. He found Araluen in a verge of a crisis with Baron Morgarath fighting to throw off the Ranger Corps. Halt shifted as he pushed away a tree branch to reveal a small cave, his home. He walked towards the entrance, wondering if he had perhaps made a mistake.

Baron Morgarath was now King Morgarath, and as far as Halt knew, the rangers were long gone. He frowned, brushing back his choppy hair that was beginning to gray. It was a shame, really. He had really wanted to join the rangers. He just didn't have the chance. He had sailed to Gallica the first chance he got. Now, his life was full of thievery and performing dangerous tasks for others. Perhaps, no better than Ferris, but that's besides the point. He was happy, right? Happy to be free?

Halt sighed as he dropped his bow down next to his bed, which was just a few blankets and pillows pushed next to a cold stone wall. He shrugged out of his cloak, squeezing out the rainwater. Halt grunted as he lowered himself onto his bed. He grabbed a nearby apple that laid on the stone ground. Crunching into the juicy fruit, Halt chewed. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking.

Finishing the apple, Halt tossed the seeds across the cavern. He would plant them later. Then, suddenly, Halt felt a pit in his stomach. He frowned, not able to shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. His hand found its way to the saxe on his hip. "Who's there?" he called out, sitting up. "Show yourself!"

"Please don't hurt us, sir!" a hurried voice said.

Halt raised an eyebrow as he heard a shuffling sound and a yelp. Someone had hit the person. He stood, looking around. No one had ever found his home before. He cursed to himself. Had he been followed?

He picked up his bow, waiting. After all these years, he had kept up with practicing. Pritchard would be proud. Halt stood, unmoving. "I know where you are," he said aloud, even though he had no idea where they were. "Don't make me shoot you." He waited a few seconds. Silence lingered in the air.

Halt drew an arrow. "Five," he counted down. "Four. Three." He nocked the arrow. "Two." He stepped into the light and grimly smiled. "One."

Halt spun around, aiming the arrow towards the cave entrance. He knew every inch and crevice of his home, and if these people were smart, there was only one place to hide if someone were to ever to find him. He sighted and released the arrow, deliberately moving to the side to miss the shot.

A screech.

Halt nodded to himself, smirking. The arrow had landed next to one of the intruders, perhaps half a centimeter off. "Next time, I'll aim for your eyes."

Two men, if you could even call them that, shuffled out into the light. One was short and scrawny, and the other was unnaturally buff. Halt raised an eyebrow when neither of them spoke. "Well?" he said, raising his hands. "Don't just stand there. What do you want?"

They looked at each other, neither speaking. The two waited for each other to say the first word. Impatient, Halt shot an arrow. "Speak!" he boomed.

It was the scrawny one who spoke. "Well sir, we come from Araluen."

Halt crossed her arms. "Oh, really?" he snarled. Their accents had already told him that much.

The muscular one took over. "We have an offer for you."

Halt raised an eyebrow. Normally, those who requested him for tasks would find him in the inn. He looked the intruders from head to toe. His eyes narrowed when he realized they were the two brutes watching him earlier in the day. "Well?" he said. "What is it?"

Unnerved, the two looked at each other. They didn't want to make the same mistake, but instead of one person speaking, they started talking at the same time. Halt groaned, pinching his nose. He shot another arrow. "You!" He pointed at the smaller of the two. "You speak."

"Well sir. You see sir. Our—"

"Nevermind," Halt said. "You speak." He gestured to the other.

"King Morgarath of Araluen has an offer for you," he said.

Yet again, Halt raised an eyebrow. He wasn't expecting to be working for a king. "Cut to the chase," he said. "What does he want?"

The smaller spoke, looking at the larger for reassurance. Halt glared at him was talking out of turn but didn't shoot. He wanted to hear the offer. "He wants you to perform an assassination."

"The price?"

"Five hundred gold royals."

Halt allowed a look of surprise onto his well kept grumpy expression. He inclined his head. "Five hundred gold royals," he echoed. "That is not Gallican coin," he said, although that wasn't what was bothering him.

"He'll pay five hundred gold royals worth of Gallican coin."

Halt bit down on his lower lip. Five hundred gold royals was more than he would ever expect from any task. No one was willing to pay that much, but Morgarath was. The victim must be well known. Important. "And who is this special person?"

"Baron Arald, sir."

Baron Arald. Halt blinked. He didn't know who he was, but he was a baron. That meant he needed to sneak into a castle. "Do I have a choice?" Halt asked. From his knowledge of Morgarath in his little time passing through Araluen, he knew that he wasn't exactly kind, but Halt owed allegiance to no one.

"Unless you prefer to rot to death."

Halt sighed. He couldn't lie and say the coin didn't tempt him because it did. However, breaking into a castle was dangerous and difficult. One mistake and all could be lost. Then again, he didn't really have a choice unless he wanted to go on the run from Morgarath, and that didn't sound fun. Morgarath was ruthless and not a person to be messed with. He wasn't necessarily the person Halt would want to work for. But again, he had no choice.

"Okay," Halt finally said after a moment of silence. "Baron Arald needs to die." Despite every muscle in his body telling him to kill the two messengers, Halt didn't. Instead, he nodded.

"So be it."