Path of the Nightingale
Part 2 of the Nightingale Saga
These stories are based on the character of Nightingale from the TopGames game “Evony; The King’s Return.” I do not own the rights to the original character and have created these stories purely from my own imagination, hoping you like them.
Nightingale rode into town, carrying another bag of gold. She still wasn’t sure what year it was, but she knew that she’d been doing this, now, for about a century.
She had to smile as she heard the coins clinking. This one was easy, almost as easy as the other times she’d done it. She tried to remember and thought it was a total of four times. Yes, that sounded about right.
She convinced her lover that she was gong to have his baby, and talked him into committing suicide with her. She even talked him into giving up a portion of his riches, just throwing them away for them to land on top of as they leapt from the cliff, hand in hand.
She didn’t feel guilty about it, not ever. Something in the back of her mind reminded her that she should feel guilty, but this man, a noble from the town, had a family that charged way too much of the people they were supposed to govern over, making some of them suffer.
But she felt that thrill, that exultation, as she plummeted, that intoxicating rush that always come just before she died. Of course, it never stayed. Always about three days later, she’d wake up, feeling almost as good, then get out of town.
It was always the same, though. She’d be able to control any man she wanted. She knew why, too. Ever since her first death, when she had somehow grown to what she guessed was the age of 24, she had grown into an exceptional beauty. With a little practice, she learned how to seduce men and to control them and discovered the only thing that felt better than dying.
For the first 20 years, she had as much sex as she could handle, but she grew bored with being able to pick up any man she wanted and play with them for a while. Yes, it was easy for her, but she preferred the challenge of her true calling.
Being the kind of thief that would dispense her spoils to those in need in whatever town or village she visited, only taking a little for herself as she got on the next horse and maneuvered away.
She did have another reputation though, one that was befitting her name. She had quite the talent for singing, and could use that gift to enchant almost anyone. It seemed so easy for her.
As she rode into town, she spotted the only place she knew she could learn about it, the local tavern.
She dismounted and tied up the horse, using her cloak to hide the leather outfit she had on underneath, clinging to her body in a way that did nothing to hide the shape of it. She knew what she was doing after all.
As she went in, she maneuvered over to the barkeep. “Hello. I’m wondering if you can direct me to the head of this tavern. I am seeking accommodations and would trade my vocal talents to do so.”
The barkeep looked up only briefly, then again as she smiled at him. Way too easy. He leaned on his bar, asking her name. “Emily.”
She knew she had a real name, but changing aliases each time she entered a new town seemed like a wise course of action. She tried to remember the last time she’d been Emily as the barkeep smiled at her. “He’s over on the far side.”
Nightingale smiled at him, dropping a gold coin for his trouble, and moved away, feeling his eyes on her as she did so. In fact, the eyes of almost every man in the bar was on her, giving her a bit of a thrill, but she hoped none would be creepy towards her.
As she approached the table, she felt something. A small tickle started at the top of her spine and moved down it, giving her an eerie sensation as the man looked up. Something was different about him, something that seemed to be very familiar yet very strange. He looked her up and down appreciatively for a moment. “Can I help you?”
She exhaled a sigh for just a moment before she went into her whole spiel about being only a traveling singer who needed accommodations and would sing for them at his tavern, but, before she could really get into it, he invited her to sit. Without really thinking, she did so. “My name is Nell. What’s yours?”
That caught her off guard. “Uh…Emily.”
Nell smiled at her knowingly. “No, what’s your real name.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant so she repeated the pseudonym she’d given earlier. He laughed like he was in on some kind of unknown joke. “And how many times have you died?”
That really caught her off guard. “I don’t…”
Nell casually leaned on the table, going on. “I’ve died about fifty times myself, each time as wonderful as the one before. I met another one like us, which is how I recognized what you are, but he’s not here at the moment.”
Nightingale blinked a few times, not sure what to say. Another one? “I’m still not sure what you mean, Mr. Nell.”
He held up a hand. “Just Nell, please. And what is your real name?”
She gulped. “Uh…Nightingale.”
She looked at him, guessing he was about 25 or so, still not entirely sure she believed him. “So, I take it you really can sing?”
She nodded. “Yes, ever since I was little.”
Nell looked at her, almost trying to read her face. “Well, you are attractive, very much so. How long do you stay in a town, Nightingale?”
Still a little stunned, she answered honestly. “No more than 6 months.”
Nell nodded, somehow guessing that. “And when did you realize you’re an immortal like Duke and me?’
Duke? “I was tried for murder and executed when I was a child…14 I think. That was in year 101.”
Nell seemed to take it in stride. “112 years ago. I take it finding yourself suddenly much older was a surprise. What did you do?”
Nightingale smiled, deciding that his interest was real. “I stole the person’s purloined land deeds and gold and hightailed it out of town. Nobody even suspected.”
Nell laughed, appreciating that. “And what about waking up after you die? Is it three days for you as well?”
Nightingale nodded. “It takes me a bit to figure out where I am, but then, I go back and do what I was intending to do first.”
Nell reached out, patting her hand in an affectionate sort of way, but it wasn’t the kind she was used to. More like a way of accepting her. “So you go from town to town, dying in order to avoid suspicion, and, doing what? Robbing from the rich to give to the poor, like some immortal female Robin Hood?”
Nightingale’s lip went up at that mention. She’d heard stories of Robin Hood before. “Yeah, something like that.”
Nell leaned back. “I think we could use someone like you. Look, we don’t stay long, just enough to get what we need and then get out, but, if we had a skilled thief on our team, especially one that does what you say you can, we can keep moving on.”
He leaned forward again. “I’m the man with the numbers and the fighting skill. Duke can basically get anything he wants by lying, I’m not sure how long he’s been doing it but he’s very skilled. Now, aside from stealing and singing, do you have any other skills?”
Nightingale shrugged. “I can cook. But I’m not sure if that’ll…”
She stopped as she felt that tingle again. Nell smiled at someone approaching their table. “Ah, Duke.”
A bit of an older voice spoke from behind her. “I see we might have a new recruit to our team. Who is this?”
She leaned over, seeing a bit of an older face than she expected. “Nightingale.”
A look sprang to his face that she was very used to, a look very different from the one Nell gave her.
The look she’d seen on many men over her century of living, a look of desire.
This was going to be one very interesting team-up.