Dlyvuk: Chronicle the Second

By: Dustin Mitcham,

Staff Writer

Dietrich knew as soon as he saw the massive, snarling dogs that he and the Spaniard were about to be discovered. He had only been in France for a week and he’d already been arrested twice, attacked several times, bitten once, and even burned, which left a nasty looking mark on the left side of his neck. In total, he had earned about two thousand French Francs thus far. He never thought the life of a mercenary would be so exciting.

Two days after Dietrich arrived in France, he signed on to a mercenary group called Les Loups de Paris: The Wolves of Paris. He had thought at the time that the stories about mercenary work were very exaggerated. Therefore, he figured it would be a nice way to make some money until he could find some more interesting work. He soon found out that, if anything, the stories he’d heard of mercenaries were likely toned down from reality.

Les Loups de Paris were actually brought together by a Moroccan man, named Dhakwan Harrak. They mostly took high-paying jobs from wealthy land owners, usually involving storming an opposing nobleman’s manor, or guarding/stealing coveted items, or even, rarely, assassination contracts. Dietrich had signed on as a mounted fighter, so he was mainly used for jobs involving an outright attack.

However, this time he had signed on for a project from an anonymous client to steal a journal kept by an extremely powerful Viscount, in exchange for twenty thousand French Francs. Of the twenty thousand, half would go to Harrak, and the other half would be split between Dietrich and his colleague for the job, a Basque war veteran named Izotz. Together, they had ridden into town on Dietrich’s horse, Lüdwig. They had left the horse at the local stable though, since they needed to be stealthy.

They had snuck into the manor with no issues, acting the part of servants for the Viscount. Dietrich had to keep his head down and his shirt collar up, since he knew that his bright, sapphire blue eyes and burn-scar would definitely make him stand out. Other than these traits though, his thick, auburn hair, chiseled jaw, and pale white skin blended perfectly with those of the French men and women around him. Izotz however, was had need to go to great lengths to disguise some of his distinctly Basque features.

Despite their efforts, however, Dietrich knew that they were going to be ousted as soon as he saw the dogs outside the Viscount’s study. They were both bulky, black haired monsters that stood alert by the door, already aware of the intruders’ presence. Dietrich had dealt with guard dogs a mere three days earlier, but they were nearly as large or ferocious as these Beaucerons.

Just as the first one began to bark, which would no doubt alert the guards, Izotz leaned in to whisper to Dietrich.

“When the dogs charge us, grab whichever one comes after you by the neck and slam your fist into the nub on the back of its skull. We can subdue them without killing them,” he said.

No sooner had Izotz gotten the last word out of his mouth than the Beaucerons bolted right towards them. The larger of the two leaped into the air, attempting to pounce right onto Dietrich. It landed on Dietrich’s chest, bringing him to the ground. Dietrich was pinned at first. Just as dog was about to sink its teeth into him, Dietrich snapped into focus and did just as Izotz had told him. The dog made a short, whining sound before Dietrich felt it go limp.

As soon as he and Izotz were both on their feet again, Dietrich said, “We need to leave now, before the guards come. We are far too lightly armed to fend them off.”

“But we haven’t gotten the journal!” Izotz exclaimed harshly, “We’ll disgrace ourselves and fail the mission!”

“It’s not worth our lives Izotz,” Dietrich responded, trying to stay calm, “I know you think of failure as being undignified and dishonorable, but we have to go now. If we don’t, we will die here.”

Izotz, while still clearly upset, consented. They made their way through the winding halls, trying to exit the manor. When they were almost out the door, they came face-to-face with a guard, who immediately realized that they were the intruders.

Just as the guard began to level his carbine at them, Dietrich drew his own gun, an antique pistol named Dlyvuk, and fired it for the first time. Rather than the explosion sound of most guns, Dlyvuk instead made a loud ringing sound, like the bells in a clocktower. Then Dietrich realized that this sound was actually his own ears ringing.

Dietrich and Izotz immediately ran out the door of the manor, and made a mad dash for the village. Once they were back to the stable, feeling free of danger now, they still felt they needed to leave town quickly. They needed to leave before word of their actions spread.

As they retrieved Lüdwig, Izotz said to the stable owner, “Please send out a messenger ahead of us to tell Dhakwan Harrak ‘We haven’t got the cargo. We failed.’”

“Actually,” replied the stable owner, “We’ve just received a messenger from Sir Harrak. He says to drop whatever it is you’re doing here and come with him and some others on a trip to Spain.”

Dietrich and Izotz looked at one another with wide eyes. Izotz kept a straight face, but they were both surprised and were thinking the same thing. If Dhakwan Harrak was pulling them out of the job they were on, and attending the new job in Spain himself… it must be an enormous mission.

#dustinmitcham #creativity101 #volume7issue3