The Dancer and the Dagger
A Dragonbreath Short Story, free to read
NOTE: As I've humble-bragged before, I'm writing a novel. Things spin out while I work on the side for specific parts and hammer out the world. Because of that, I have some short stories I wanted to post before deciding to see about posting actual chapters soon. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I'm looking for feedback, which is always good.
Oceanforge was a city of secrets, its foundations forged from steel and silence. The air hung thick with salt, smoke, and the whispers of betrayal, carrying the weight of a thousand untold stories. Saints and martyrs lined its streets—crumbling statues of forgotten heroes and would-be gods, now little more than silent witnesses to the sins unfolding daily in their shadow. Their stone eyes watched, blind to the desperate prayers and charms strung across their worn hands, all meant to ward off a fate Oceanforge guaranteed. It was no city for saints.
It was perfect for Mermoz Guiliamet.
He strode into the city's heart like a shadow sharpened into flesh, his long coat swaying with each step. Heads turned, not because he sought attention but because he commanded it. There was a tension to his movements, a predatory grace that set instincts on edge. Men and women alike gave him a wide berth, their glances bouncing off him like steel raindrops. His was the kind of menace that thrived in places like this, a walking omen promising someone's night was about to go very wrong.
Beneath the brim of his battered hat, Mermoz's gray eyes scanned the streets, sharp as a freshly honed blade. He took in the chaos—the shouting merchants, the gutter-dwellers hawking dubious wares, the cloaked figures vanishing into alleyways with glints of steel or coin in hand. This city wasn't just alive; it pulsed with danger, and Mermoz felt its rhythm like a second heartbeat.
Oceanforge didn't just welcome trouble—it thrived on it. And the problem was precisely what Mermoz carried, coiled in the wand slung low on his hip, waiting for someone foolish enough to draw first.
He wasn't loud or flashy, but his presence demanded notice. A long, battered leather coat trailed behind him, its edges frayed from years of chaos. The coat was like him: practical, unpolished, and impossible to kill. Beneath it, a vest bristling with wand holsters and enchanted trinkets clung to his wiry frame. His wide-brimmed hat tilted low; shaded gray eyes gleamed with the hard-edged humor of a man who lived by the philosophy that it wasn't cheating if you were smart enough to pull it off.
The city had a rhythm, a chaotic pulse of bustling docks, clanging forges, and the murmur of deals made in back alleys. Mermoz moved through it like a stormcloud, his spurred boots jingling with each step, his fingers twitching near his wand holster—a predator's reflex. He wasn't just here to blend in but to carve out his place, one poor bastard at a time.
The Vomiting Dragon was a beacon of sin planted firmly in the heart of OOceanforge'schaotic waterfront district. A grotesque bit of craftsmanship, the tavern's sign was carved from dark, waterlogged wood: a snarling dragon caught mid-heave, its mouth wide open, spewing a never-ending torrent of acid-green vomit onto the unfortunate knight below. The poor bastard's painted face wore a look of frozen horror, his shield raised in vain against the eternal tide of dragon bile.
A flickering illusion spell brought the entire display to crude, shimmering life, making the vomit glisten and flow with unsettling realism. It glowed brighter in the fading twilight; an unholy beacon lit up the street like a garnish punchline to some forgotten joke. Drunken sailors staggered toward it, roaring with laughter and elbowing each other in giddy approval. At the same time, the more superstitious clergy members crossing the district made the sign of their god and muttered curses under their breath.
The scene grew more absurd inside—chaotic music, broken mugs, and the occasional fistfight underscored the tavern's reputation. But the sign was the masterpiece, a dark joke hammered into wood and magic that refused to let anyone walk by without feeling insulted, amused, or both.
Inside, the air was thick with the mingled scents of spilled ale, cheap perfume, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Laughter, curses, and the sultry strumming of a bard's lute merged into a chaotic symphony. Onstage, dancers moved with liquid grace, their shimmering outfits catching the flicker of enchanted lanterns. A red-haired performer spun high on a pole, drawing cheers from the crowd. Here, the flesh of all types was on display, black and white, all the shades in between, even the green of an Orc girl dancing for some sailors at one end. His body was a gorgeous ripple of muscle and flesh, and even her jutting teeth from her prominent underbite were bejeweled and showed a face and eyes of such odd beauty; Mermoz scratched his chin and weighed his coin bag in his mind, a possible distraction for later.
Navigating the maze of bodies, his sharp eyes scanning for his contact. Renos Farrier sat hunched at a corner table, nursing a drink like it was keeping him alive. The man was as thin as a starving cat, his darting eyes betraying the paranoia of someone who'd made too many bad bets."
"Renos Farrie?" Mermoz drawled as he slid into the seat opposite him. His boots landed on the table with a deliberate clunk, drawing a scowl from the rat-like man. "You're late," Renos snapped, his voice sharp and nasal.
Mermoz leaned back, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "I'm worth the wait. Now, what's the job?"
The job was dirtier than most: a hit on Renos's' brother, Calem Farrier, heir to their father's vast shipping empire. Mermoz listened with feigned interest as Renos spilled his tale of jealousy and greed, the man's desperation bleeding through his words."
"You don't need to know why," Renos hissed, tossing a pouch of coins onto the table. "Just make it look like an accident." Mermoz's fingers brushed the pouch as his eyes narrowed. The weight of the gold was satisfying, but the job felt wrong. Killing for the coin was one thing. Killing for petty family drama? That was beneath him—or at least what he told himself.
"Sure," Mermoz lied smoothly, pocketing the gold."Consider it done."
The Farrier estate loomed over the docks like a sentinel of wealth and arrogance; its iron gates twisted into intricate dragon motifs. Mermoz Guiliamet studied the scene from the shadows, his sharp grin curling." "Gaudy as hell,"" he muttered" "But you can't fault them for taste in ironwork.""
He scaled the wall with the ease of a cat burglar who'd long since made peace with heights. The sprawling grounds were a study in overindulgence—fountains shaped like mythical beasts, perfectly manicured hedges, and statues of Farrier ancestors glaring at the world with disdain. "Money sure does breed confidence," Mermoz mused, slipping past a guard who looked more interested in his supper than his duties.
Inside the estate, Mermoz was a ghost. He had learned that the rich loved creaky floorboards and flashy décor, but he moved through their labyrinthine homes as though he owned them. He found the study with ease. Every wealthy fool had one—a symbol of imagined intellect.
As he rifled through Calem Farrier's desk, Mermoz struck gold. A stack of incriminating letters spilled into his hands. Renos Farrier, the bitter younger brother, wasn't just jealous; he was a raging storm of greed and malice. Deep in debt to every shady lender in Oceanforge, Renos had concocted a plan to kill Calem and claim the family fortune. The letters detailed every sordid aspect." ""Well, aren't you just the scum beneath the city's boots" "Mermoz chuckled, pocketing the evidence." ""Who the hell are you""
The voice was calm, but its edge could've sliced through steel. Mermoz turned slowly, his hands raised. Standing in the doorway was Calem Farrier, a wand in hand, its tip glowing faintly." Lovely house, "Mermoz said casually." A bit ostentatious, though."
Calem cocked the wand." ""Start talking""
With a grin that had gotten him out of (and into) plenty of trouble, Mermoz leaned against the desk." I'm here to save your life, Lord Heir.""
By the following evening, Renos stormed into The Vomiting Dragon like a man who owned the place—or at least thought he did. The leering, vomit-spewing dragon sign outside cast an eerie green glow on the waterfront, but Renos didn't notice. He pushed through the crowd, elbowing a sailor so hard the man's drink splashed onto the floor." ""Watch it, scum" "Renos barked, sneering.
Mermoz watched from a shadowy corner, swirling a cup of mediocre rum. He'd met many unpleasant people, but Renos Farrier was a special breed of awful. Entitled, cruel, and dumb enough to believe he was clever, Renos treated everyone like tools to be used or discarded." ""Renos" "Mermoz called out, beckoning him over.
Renos slid into the seat across from him, his gaze darting nervously." ""You said it was done""
Mermoz nodded solemnly, placing a vial of crimson liquid on the table." "Your brother's blood. As promised"
Renos grabbed it greedily, holding it up to the flickering light. His lips curled into a cruel smile." ""Finally. That insufferable prick will never look down on me again." "You got what you wanted" "Mermoz said smoothly." ""Now, about my payment""
Renos tossed a heavy pouch of coins onto the table without hesitation." There's more where that came from once I've settled things. The estate will be mine by sunrise." "
Mermoz pocketed the gold with a smirk." ""Pleasure doing business""
Later that night, the city guard stormed the Farrier estate. Mermoz had tipped them off anonymously, claiming there had been a violent altercation. When they arrived, they found Renos standing over a bloodied scene: a cloak stained red, a dagger in his trembling hand, and Calem's lifeless body—or so it seemed—crumpled in a heap.
Renos froze as the guards surged into the room." ""Wait! No! This isn't what it looks like." "It looks like a murder" "one of the guards said flatly, wrenching the dagger from Reno" grip." ""You don't understand" "Renos shrieked." He's supposed to be dead already.""
From the shadows of the adjacent room, Mermoz and Calem watched the spectacle unfold. The "body" on the floor shimmered briefly before vanishing—a simple illusion spell that had been Mermoz's idea. Renos's protests echoed as the guards hauled him away in irons.
Calem turned to Mermoz, his expression unreadable." ""You didn't have to get involved""
Mermoz shrugged, his grin as sharp as ever." ""True. But where's the fun in that? Besides…” He patted the pouch of gold Renos had given him." "Your brother paid me quite handsomely to kill you. It only felt right to return the favor by ruining him."
Calem shook his head, torn between gratitude and unease." You're a dangerous man, Guiliamet." "Flattery will get you everywhere" "Mermoz quipped.
As Calem watched Mermoz slip back into the shadows, he couldn't shake the admiration blooming in his chest. Mermoz wasn't just a scoundrel—he was an artist of chaos, weaving schemes with precision and wit.
And that, Calem thought grimly, made him terrifying.
---
Later, Mermoz nursed a tankard of ale at The Vomiting Dragon, his grin as loose as the coins jingling in his pocket. The Ork dancer was back on stage for her encore, spinning with surprising grace given her tusks and the impressive lack of fabric in her costume. She caught his eye again and winked, her expression a mix of mischief and danger.
Mermoz chuckled, raising his mug in salute." "To life's little surprises" "he muttered.
The crowd cheered as the dancer twirled, her routine more daring than before. But as she moved closer to Mermoz's table, she slipped him a folded note between spins. It was stained with something suspiciously dark and sticky.
Unfolding it carefully, he found scrawled words:" ""Meet me at the docks. Midnight. Don't make me come find you." "
He sighed, taking a long swig of ale." ""And here I thought tonight was about relaxation.""
The Ork finished her dance with a dramatic flourish, leaving the crowd roaring. She shot Mermoz a sly smile as she exited the stage.
Oceanforge was a gamble, all right, but tonight, Mermoz realized, the game was far from over—and the stakes might be his neck.
THANKS FOR READING!
I said I might serialize the novel in the next few years, depending on where I am, by January or so, and then go from there. This has been fun; believe me, I do not have any weird aspirations with this. I want as many people to read it as possible, and it's been helping sharpen my writing and get things going. If you dug it, let me know if you liked it and want to see more. Get in on the novel in January; join the Substack! This will be exclusive to here!
Until next time, BE GOOD.
DISCLAIMER: Images are done on Midjourney and then altered in Photoshop. I plan to draw many of the series later, but I'm kicking around some AI x Photoshop to see what can be done.