Just another dead man

Elesett Álmodozó was a knight. He was a man of average height, with dark skin and almond shaped eyes. His irises were onyx black, his hair was curly and his face was dotted with freckles. A child of god in a city of thieves. Blessed with divine musculature and a radiant smile, and yet still incomplete. Incomplete for he was unable to swing a sword. In his hands it turned into stiff metal. The hilt became heavy for to grasp it completely required the capacity for monstrosity. He wanted to believe in its ravenous touch, but that belief flowed against the warmth which oozed from his heart.

He was a book who could not be judged by his cover. At least that was what his comrades told him. But was that true? Or was he merely a book desperate to feel the depth of the pages, unable to recognize such feeling in the cover which bound them.

Before his eyes, lay a sub-human of the Dalkyvith kind. His helmet was off, leaving him open to the judgement of the crows. They lay outside the confines of the space, beyond the walls of the city, beyond the borders of the country itself. Their cries flowed through the forests and the mountains as a curse on the world of man, even if their spirit possessed those very men. Elesett could hear the clamoring of fists on the door and the panes, reflecting mourning. Feeble mourning it was though, for they were quick to pass to the place for their next drink, accepting of the law imposed upon them. The law carried within the blade which Elesett's comrades had to swing for him.

The slain fellow had a bloated belly and stubby legs, meaning he couldn't move very well. He was six times the width and three times the height of an average human after all. His skin was green and warty like a toad's, and his head was shaped like a Salamander's. Perhaps that would mean he was to be reborn. To simmer away into flame and be recast into a different role. Elesett was not blessed with such fortune, for his life was populated by a violating misery which colored his soul the way the warts did on the Dalkyvith's body.

The entire altercation had begun when a man stormed into the knight's hall, shouting for a knight party to assist him. Tyteos, the leader of Elesett's party, had immediately set down his drink and rushed to him. Ready to condemn himself to servitude, all for the purpose of personal interest. To serve as the listener so that he may gain the will to become the speaker, for in the hearts of knights and men that which was gained through listening had transformative power.

"Sire, may I ask what you are making such a ruckus for?" he asked with a smile like poisoned honey. Or honeyed poison. Whichever concealed the poison better.

The man calmed and turned to face Tyteos coldly. "Are you aware of the Dalkyvith who operates the Fiery Crab bar?"

Tyteos gave a nervous chuckle. "O-of course. I would be a failure of a knight not too!"

"I want you to kill him." the man said nonchalantly. It was as if he were asking him to do something as simple as washing his dishes.

"But si-"

"No buts! I asked to you to kill it, did I not?" he sighed. "IF you are able to kill him, I shall pay you fifty gold coins."

Tyteos shared an uneasy glance with the rest of the party, but what could he do but concede? "Fine. Please submit your request at the front. This will bind us both to a contract and we'll be able to complete the mission for you."

"I know how it works." the merchant snapped haughtily. He got up and brushed off his silk coat, cleansing himself of the commoner which had touched it. His arrogance was distasteful. He strutted about with the kind of confidence of a man who owned the city, but the bags under his eyes said otherwise. He was a poser. A buffoon unaware of what the silk around his shoulders actually meant, but whom wore it anyways. It reminded Elesett of himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tyteos tremor with anger, but he calmed himself and made his way back to the party, picking up his drink solemnly. He had a solemn look about him, like someone enjoying their last drink before execution.

"Are we really agreeing to this?" Elesett wondered. Tyteos simply shrugged in response.

"You heard the man. We aren't in a position to argue back. He's a merchant after all. Nothing much we can do about that. Besides...it's fifty gold coins. You'd have to be mad to refuse that kind of payment." replied Bolzein nonchantly. Bolzein was a thin man, one with long, messy hair that dropped to his sides and a rather hunched back. However despite his less than savory appearance, he was a much better knight than someone like Elesett.

"I know, but...there has to be some other way! We're knights aren't we? Isn't our job to protect the innocent and all that?"

Tyteos nearly spat out his drink. "Protect the innocent? You know how many kids we drag off to the mines every other day? Innocent is the last thing we are." he returned to sipping his drink, stone faced despite the amount of alcohol he was gulping down.

"It doesn't change the fact that we have roles to fill. Sure we aren't perfect but this is too far!" Elesett cried passionately. A hand gripped his shoulder, cutting him off abruptly.

The man was an average fellow, with ginger hair and a decently bulky frame. He could have passed off as a rather pleasant fellow if not for that hooked nose of his. His name was Frank, accentuating his pure plainness. "Come on now Elesett. Use your brain! If people like us can become knights in this city you know the standard's low here. The qualifications are barebones, not like the knights who actually go out to battle."

"They're hardly any different though." Tyteos interjected. "They're stronger and tougher than us, but all that leads to is a worse temperament and atrocious nature. This may sound crazy but we're just probably the noblest knights you'll find in this kingdom."

Elesett scoffed. "But we're hardly noble! Just because we're a bit better off than the scum in other places doesn't make us 'noble.'"

Tyteos spun around, knocking his own glass over, so that he could grab Elesett by the collar and stare him in the eyes. It had been a long time since passion had roused within them, and the man looked almost demonic. "Shut up! I don't want to hear about being noble from a coward who can barely swing a sword!"

The rest of the party went completely silent, watching with bated breath what their leader would do next. Tyteos glared at Elesett for a few more seconds before loosening his grip and taking a deep breath. "The definition of a 'knight' changed a long time ago. We're basically just armored freelancers now, taking on jobs and walking around in this stiff ass armor all day for some coins. Get that in your head before you get killed."

Just then, the merchant strode over, a quill in hand. He requested that Tyteos sign the contract he had obtained, and without question Tyteos complied. It made Elesett sick to his stomach, instilling a helplessness within him that seemed to eat away at his soul. The quill used to sign the paper might as well have been a blade due to the way it drove through his heart, filling with him with self loathing for what he was about to agree to. He almost wished for it. But he held his tongue and watched the transaction transpire. Of course he did. It was all he could do after all. He was a lumbering force of pure muscle who wasted it all in holding himself back, what right did he have to object to anything?

As soon as the agreement was made the group equipped themselves and set off. He disliked the way the metal felt against his skin. It gave him a feeling of pride, like he was meant to actually accomplish something with it on, but every time that pride turned to shame once he realized what he had put it on for. The only way to forget his shame, was through drink, but even he couldn't be drunk all day. Or could he? Perhaps he couldn't be drunk on alcohol all day, but when he wasn't doing that he was drunk on a blade he didn't deserve. Drunk on the idea of what it could do, and the future he could carve for himself if he had the strength of will to use it for something. But every time he dared to believe in that future, he was dragged back to the reality that he was useless, a failure too human to do what needed to be done.

He was like an egg raised in the perfect conditions, but which turned into a runny mess when opened.

Outside was a halfway constructed church, where a young priestess bounded amongst the workers. She offered them words of encouragement, she ruffled their hair and brightened the smiles on their faces. Her touch seemed to alleviate them off their haggard scowls and rejuvenate them. Their scowls were all too familiar, but Elesett's were far more pronounced. Tyteos had the worst of course, for it was practically etched into his face. Yet this woman made him believe that even that could turn into a grin.

Elesett could feel a blush rising in his cheeks, sweeping him up in a heat which made him forget how much he hated himself, but he turned his head away and denied himself that warmth. Unfortunately, the female member of the party noticed, and leaned against Elesett's shoulder.

"You've got a thing for that priest don't you?" Edith teased.

"You can tell even under the armor?" Elesett asked nervously.

"I'm perceptive that way."

"Well, she is gorgeous."

"That is true." she mused. Suddenly, she pulled Elesett's helmet close to hers, so they could lock eyes through the visors. "Forget about her though."

"What? Why?"

"I'll admit, you two would look good together, but you can't afford to get distracted on the job. It's just a trick of the trade. All distractions that aren't related to your task are weeds that need to be cut out."

"You speak as if you're good at your job Edith." Frank quipped. She growled at him, but he was hardly fazed. "You can bark at me all you want but it's true. None of us are all that skilled, so I say let the lad live how he wants!"

Their sixth and youngest member, an adolescent named Barnett criticized Frank's condescending attitude. "You can hardly be calling anyone a lad, considering how you and Elesett are the same age. Matter of fact, you're only a few years older than me!"

"He's right y'know." Edith remarked, cutting her way back into the conversation. "Besides, since we're all shit my advice is even better! He should learn how to wield an actual sword before he pulls out his own."

Elesett could feel color flushing into his face once again. But it didn't provide him warmth, but shame he was all to used to. Anger bubbled withim him upon that realization.

"Yeah but then what makes up different than undead? We're basically sucking off those merchants just to scrape by, now you want me to compromise my feelings on top of that?"

Bolzein cackled. "It seems like this one's finally grown some balls! Still, comparing us to undead? Quite a leap there."

"Yeah, no one even know if undead exist." Barnett quipped. Before he could get shot down more however, Tyteos fell back from his position at the group's helm in order to pat him on the back. It was a rare moment, to see Tyteos break away from his selfish disposition and show someone else compassion.

"He makes a good point though. I say, if he wants to go after the priest lady let him. Assuming we make it past today. Folks in the Raven's Market are tricky. I reckon we'd get taken down by a single assassin if they're well trained enough."

Elesett gulped. "Don't say that please." Tyteos just opened his mouth, allowing what sounded like a laugh to escape his lips. If only for a moment, Elesett allowed himself to sink into the comfort of familiarity. The commoner's market only heightened that ambiance. For here there was modesty. The promiscuity was held behind the doors of homes and the poverty stricken children had looks of glee on their faces. He felt tempted to comfort them somehow, but his heart warmed upon seeing a shop owner offer a piece of his brad to one of the poor brats.

The feeling reminded him of the way his mother's lap had felt, so full of life and comfort. When he was there everything seemed to flow with life. Those times were scented with rose petals and freshly cooked porridge, with laughter just as he was sharing now with his comrades.

He was new to their ranks, but he had found his paradise. The place where he belonged, comforted from the pain of solitude. A place where every man and woman greeted him with a smile and where the chirping of songbirds washed over the crows screeching. Where every flower growing amongst the stones burst with color, where the air felt wet and yet warm all the same. Like a womb, he imagined this moment to feel like.

But as soon as they made their way into the Raven's Market, the demeanor changed. The flowers appeared withered and the crows cast their judgmental gaze without mercy. There was no compassion here, only sternness.

Like a father's, if that father characterized themselves not by responsibility but by animosity. If his slaps held no meaning, and were cast just for the sake of it.

That was the feeling he got with every glare and glance. It was almost violating in nature, yet he was the only one who seemed to mind. When Barnett's scabbard became tainted with spit he spat back and moved on.

At last, they arrived at the pub. It was a rather unremarkable place, but there was something intimidating about it all the same. He could have sworn that the lines on the wood were shaped like faces, ghastly and miserable. The windows were stained and covered in grime, a distortion of what the glass was meant to be.

The moment they opened the door, Bolzein jammed his blade in the lock, fixing it into place and making it nigh impossible to open.

After ensuring that they wouldn't be intruded open, Elesett and Bolzein swiveled around to look at their target, and the moment they did Elesett's jaw dropped. The pub owner was massive. He had met some abnormal peoples before during the guild's jobs but this, this was terrifying. Tyteos didn't waste a single moment in awe however.

Before the fat fellow could even say "we're closed", Tyteos had already rushed forth and driven a sword into it's swollen gut. The blade was black. Tyteos has received it not off his own merit, but as part of some scheme of the merchants. His handling of it was more than proof of his incompetence. But still, it was enough to pierce the gluttonous fellow's stomach. At first the Dalkyvith didn't notice, but soon blood spurted from its lips and a scream began to gargle. But Tyteos didn't stop. he moved the blade around and around with such intensity that blood began to splatter on his helmet and pink pieces of intestine accumulated on his sword. They appeared to drape around it, almost like a noose. The poor fellow was one foot in the grave before he could even fully process what had happened.

"Y-you bastard", the enormous creature managed to spit out. "Lysander'll have your head for this."

Tyteos chuckled, and his face contorted into an expression of pure sadism. It was jarring to see the man who he had viewed as a friend show such malice and disregard. "Not if he never finds you..." he hummed, an element of melody woven into the threat. But by the time it was communicated, the Dalkyvith was already dead.

Elesett was left nauseuous after the incident, but everyone else had an air of complete casualness. Even Barnett, who was only seventeen. They stared at the thing for a few moments and immediately went about the rest of their tasks. Frank went back and retrieved several large satchels, Bolzein took Frank's blade and used it to cut the Dalkyvith into dozens of fat little pieces (after he unlodged and then relodged his own blade above the lock), whilst Edith cleaned the blood and whatever else had seeped onto the floor. Tyteos went to the washing room and soaked himself in water to wipe off the crimson which stained his armor and blade.

All the while Elesett stood frozen, paralyzed by disgust and self loathing for what he had gotten himself into. It took everything he had to just keep standing up.

'Why am I alive?' he wondered to himself. It was an odd question, but after seeing something like this, he needed some sort of reason. What justification could there be to drive a sword through someone's gut without even making proper conversation with them? What had his party members seen and endured that he hadn't. Had this weak willed disposition of his just been a curse of fate, a result of his inherent destiny?

He stumbled out of the pub in the midst of the cleanup and threw up in the middle of the street. But he stopped himself in the middle of it, afraid that his vomiting would hurl his intestines out as well. He had never seen intestines before today. Who knew they were so long and slimy and disgusting?

'No, you're being ridiculous.' he told himself. But just as he was about to finish the process and clean himself up a voice murmured in his ears. "Just die." it whispered.

Elesett stood up and looked around wildly, eyes locking with a beautiful blonde man next to him, with a face as delicate as porcelain. A second later, he seemed to appear as a woman with raven black hair, then a Dalkyvith, than an elf. He was all these things and yet none. He looked somewhat otherwordly, like a figment of Elesett's imagination. He didn't dare reach for him or draw closer, for the fellow seemed to appear intangible.

"W-what?" was all that he was able to stammer. The other man stared at him without feeling, his eyes seeming more like empty tunnels to get lost in than body parts. He was so...so holy looking, like the priestess had appeared, but in a different way. A colder way.

"Just die." the man repeated. "You're too weak to survive in a world such as this after all."

"But I-I want to li-"

"Do you?" the fellow pulled closer, a flicker of curiosity bursting from within inside his blank pupils. They were completely black, even at the irises, just like Elesett. "What reason do you have to live? Your parents, dead. Your friends, murderers. Look at this place," he threw his arms, showcasing the full scope of Corvachia. Elesett's eyes became opened to all sorts of depravities. A man shoving a bruised woman into an alleyway, elderly folk practically drowning in tobacco and liquor, a boy with a raven tattoo beating an older man with his bare fists. Sights enough to truly send Elesett's intestines spewing from his lips.

"This is what the whole city is like, and no amount of gold can hide that. But...it's not as if you can escape. And it's not as if this wretchedness is restricted purely to this city. It extends everywhere, possessing the hearts of men and turning them into puppets of madness. Your friends are no different. You saw how easily they were willing to take another life for the sake of a couple measly coins."

"W-what are you trying to say to me!" Elesett cried, practically choking on his own words. The ethereal figure stayed calm.

"I'm saying, that this is life. This is what it means to be alive, and this city, this society we live in only enhances that. So why even live? Why not just die. It's fitting for a street rat like you, an insignificant little bug who spent twenty two years accomplishing nothing in life."

"You're right..." Elesett thought to himself. What was he alive for? He knew his comrades' reasons. Barnett simply did it for fun, Frank to by nice things, Tyteos to keep himself going, but Elesett? What did he have? "I have nothing." he confessed. The realization was a quiet one, like a stone being dropped into a lake, but the more it rippled out the more the admission crept into every corner of his brain. Tears sprang to Elesett's eyes, and he didn't dare stop them.

All the while the fellow smiled, finally revealing some sort of expression on that blank slate of a face, and just like that he vanished...leaving Elesett alone on the street, struggling with all his might to gather himself.

When they came out everyone else engaged in discourse about what they would eat tonight, about how dangerous the situation might've been if the Dalkyvith was faster, about what their favorite drinks were, and more.

Elesett could feel his stomach turning, but he shook his head and steadied himself. It was impossible to see his party in another light after this, despite how prepared he had thought he had been for this. The man's words rung in his head. "Your friends are murderers."

Suddenly, Barnett wrapped his arm around his Elesett's shoulder. "Don't tell me your scared man. It's just another day in the job."

'Day in the job huh?' Elesett thought to himself. He couldn't see it that way. How could this be just another day in the job? How could taking the life of an innocent pub owner be something normalized. But Barnett continued.

"Oh come on, you just have to get used to it. I'm five years younger than you and I'm already well adjusted enough. This is just how the city is. You can't be so queasy about everything." he patted Elesett's helmet playfully.

'Why won't this little shit get off me?' he thought to himself hatefully. But yet, he couldn't go through with actually making him get off. Just like he couldn't be a real knight, or swing a sword, or do anything correctly. He was just like the rest of his party. All he could do was take from those weaker than him with his head stuck in the dirt. He was a blemish on this earth. The blonde man, or whatever he was, was right. A man like Elesett was truly undeserving of life.

The moment they got back from the guild, Tyteos proudly dangled a bag of the Dalkyvith's chopped up body in front of the awaiting merchant. It made Elesett feel tempted to retch yet again, but he bit his lip to keep it in. The man gave a hideous grin and had a servant collect the bags, and the matter was settled.

'Thank goodness. I can just go home and process all of thi-'

Right before he finished that thought, another man came storming on, frantic and desperate. He had a raven mask, and was practically breaking down. Elesett watched in terror as Tyteos approached the man and asked him what had happened.

"I lost him! This beautiful, scrumptious, purple eyed little boy got away from me!" he devolved into further crying. "Y-you, you must help me search for him. I'll pay you handsomely I promise!"

Tyteos wavered at first, just like he had with the last job, but conceded in the end. Even though they had more than enough to last them for several weeks, he still gave in, a slave to his pathetic greed.

'That's it.' Elesett thought to himself. He would not put up with this. Not with this city, not with this system, not with this life. It was a never ending cycle of obsession and greed and narcicissm, a poison which grew more and more potent with each passing day. There was nothing Elesett could do to change it, he doubted he could even if he became the knight he so dreamed of. Even if he did, it would come back, fiercer than ever. There was no single man who could change a place this corrupt, and all that could be done was to keep living empty lives. He was done, with the disease and the filth Corvachia had injected into his body, so much so that he felt tempted to take out his sword and just fall on it.

"I'm done. I'm going home." he said resoundingly. The entire guild looked at him in bewilderment. A few laughed in disbelief, but when they grasped his seriousness, they began bombarding Elesett with questions and accusations.

"Don't be a coward!"

"Are you really that bothered?"

"Look at this, pathetic."

"You won't get paid otherwise."

Without hesitation they all turned on him, driven to viciousness by the allure of money. But Elesett didn't care. He would not follow them as they hunted down an innocent child, not today.

"I DON'T CARE! I'M NOT DOING THIS ALRIGHT!" he shouted, tears springing to his eyes and his voice hoarse. The entire guild turned to see what happened. Tyteos strode over to him and removed his helmet. They stood face to face for a while, Tyteos scrutinizing and ripping apart Elesett with just his gaze alone. But Elesett didn't change his mind.

So Tyteos hit him, square in the jaw. It was a sloppy punch, one that could easily have been dodged. But Elesett took it and crashed onto the floor. Blood spurted from his mouth and when he looked up, his guild members had taken the shape of monsters. Glaring at him from their elevated perch, one they had gained not through skill or worthiness, but through sheer apathy and ruthlessness. That was the disease known as Corvachia had done to them, it had stripped them of their humanity. The more he looked at them the more the more eager he became to just slice out this curse which had settled beneath his flesh.

"Your done." Tyteos muttered, before turning his back to Elesett...forever.

After seeing them walk off Elesett had made his way in a daze to the end of the Raven's Market. In the center was a shop, with the name Raymond carved at the top. He punched it. The reason why escaped him, but he just felt like he had to do it. So that he could feel a sense of danger when doing so.

But he only bloodied his wrist, and fell to the ground. Just as the first tear sprang to the ground he heard a "tch" from behind him. At his back was a boy, only a few years younger than him, with black hair like his own and a similarly muscled body. He seemed familiar, but Elesett couldn't place where.

But before he could open his mouth to say even a word, the boy just walked off with a shake of his head.

"AAARGHHH!!" he cried. He didn't no why he did that, or why the stranger's disappointment cut him so deeply, but it did. He needed to do something to forget the pain it left on his heart, to close up the scar that had gradually began to expand straight through its middle.

So he went to a pleasure house, and spent all his money on it.

But it didn't matter. Even when he was stripped off his armor, he felt no excitement. Only disappointment. Not even the scent of roses could bring him back to the comfort he so desperately wanted. He felt no intimacy with the women before him. How could he when their touch was so cold?

When their lips moved he felt not the melody of the songbirds, but the rhythms of the ravens. It mattered not how elegant their voices were, when there was nothing behind it. No compassion, only the truth that they saw him as just another customer. Someone to forget, and who could blame him?

His mind was hazy, broken by the day's events. He could hardly piece together anything, or remember what had happened before today. The only thought in his mind was 'I don't want to be in this city.' He repeated it over and over and over and over again. Every interaction he had with the woman before him only seemed to reinforce that rhythm. From the synchronization of their breaths to the emptiness they felt towards each other.

He repeated it as he drew his blade out of his scabbard, right there in that room. He repeated it as he positioned it above his throat. Before he made the final blow, he tried to think of reasons not to do it, but in doing so he was only reminded him of all the reasons he did have.

'You're a coward. You never go through with things, so at least be a coward to the end and go through with this. You're a weakling who can't stand the sight of blood, how could you ever dream of making it anywhere. You don't belong in this city, but you can't escape. So why are you still alive? You're like the horses who pull the chariots. Dull, ignorant, incapable of using your physicality to fight in anyway. It just helps you carry other people's shit better, whilst you do nothing and take it from them. Just end it all. Who out here values a life like yours? No one has time for nobodies. You either do your job right or you don't do it all. You said it yourself, you're like an undead, so why not just seal the deal? You have no dreams, no goals, no nothing to keep you going. You're a puppet on a string, not even worth a chapter in a book. You joined the knights to accomplish something but ended up doing nothing. Why are you even here-'

He ended it. As he bled out, he dreamt of the priestess, of the holy woman. Even when he had a lady by his side, screaming and shouting. She captured not even a tinge of his attention. All he could think of was the worker's faces as they basked in her words of comfort. The polar opposite of the man who had tempted him to death. He contrived a future with her in which they ran away from this city and started a life together. In which he got to bask in her angelic holiness. It was a simple dream, not like becoming a knight or a grand savior. But that simple dream held everything Elesett could ever wish for. He had given up on being some symbol of morality, but perhaps he could obtain a moral life.

Just as he began to imagine more, to dream of kids or even grandchildren, black began to cloud his vision and death extended its cold clammy hands into Elesett's chest, wrapping its hands around his heart. He wanted to cry out, to refuse its grasp but before long he had been turned into a corpse.

He became just another dead man, crushed by the city, one who would soon be forgotten amidst the waves of bodies the city had already piled up. A feast for the crows to gorge themselves on and forget before the day even ended.