The alchemist's face paled with terror, tears streaked down his cheeks. He tried to speak, to beg for mercy, but Ophelia's hand shot out and clasped over his mouth. With a force driven by pure malice, she smashed his head against the stone wall. The sickening crunch of bone and the spray of blood painted the walls in hideous patterns. She didn't stop. The cracking of bones and tearing of flesh became a rhythm, her arm slick with dark, warm blood.
His body convulsed, limbs twitching involuntarily as his life ebbed away. Ophelia let out a breath, the sound almost one of disappointment. As the man slumped to the ground, most of his head was gone. She stepped back, assessing the mess she had made with cold, unfeeling eyes. Close to a dozen bodies scattered about, mutilated as much as the king had ordered, but she lacked personal satisfaction. Just this much wasn't enough to assuage her rage, it only made it worse, but she didn't want to go against the king. He had forgiven her faults once and she's reluctant to see if he would do so again so soon.
She looked around and found the children's corpses and dragged them, in all parts, to the front door, one after the other so that it was an unavoidable first sight for anyone who would come through the door. The king's intentions had been clear.
Her eyes met the little girl's vacant eyes. She had never been one to easily claim the life of a child but something in her was broken and she took this one without reservation and the other she sliced in half.
In the distance, the city's bells began to toll, their mournful sound cutting through the night air. It surprised her a bit that the entire city is been woken just for a single house but it made things easier for her. The king said he needed an audience so that the authorities wouldn't have the option of keeping it a secret. He told her to stay long enough to attract attention but never to be seen, or it will be the end of her. Now she just have to make things faster.
She dragged the body of the head of the house, collected a stick of fire from the fireplace, held it in between her teeth and climbed upstairs. She chose the room at the end. She didn't want the King's plans ruined. She dropped the body, retrieved the firewood from her teeth, and lit the curtains of the window facing the main street. For good measure, she set another window alight before dropping the firewood onto the large bed.
"The house is on fire!" she heard someone scream from the street below.
Ophelia moved back to the main street window, where the curtains were now raging. The humans were gathering but none was attempting to come into the house like the two that came in when the screams were the loudest. They probably think they are safe where they stood.
She glanced north and saw soldiers approaching. The temptation was there again. She was certain she could escape after that, but the king's words were absolute. "Do not engage the soldiers unless you absolutely have to"
With a sigh, she dragged the alchemist's body and tossed it out the window. She heard the thud of it landing on the cobblestone streets and the little panic it caused. The soldiers hurried on, some humans came closer to look at the body and when their eyes lifted to the window it fell from they saw nothing but flames and heavy smokes.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
Cedric Vogelhut's face twisted with fury as he slammed both hands on the table, the impact rattling the items on it. Across from him, Karim Alhashem sat unmoved, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his goblet, his eyes flicking briefly toward a scroll at the corner of the desk. King Cedric has always been known to be short-tempered.
"How sure are you he is the one that is responsible?" King Karim asked, his tone almost lazy.
Cedric's jaw clenched, the muscles working furiously as his hands balled into fists, rumpling the papers beneath them. Karim's eyes shifted briefly to the crumpled parchment, a flicker of irritation crossing his otherwise calm demeanor.
"You insult me by taking me for a fool, King Al-Hashem" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "I came out of respect and you spat in my face! Of course it is him! You know it is him!" Cedric paced furiously away from the table, his shoulders tense with barely contained rage. "This is the end for me! I will tolerate his disregard no longer!"
King Karim remained unfazed by the outburst. "Relax, Cedric—"
"Relax?!" Cedric barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "The boy came into my city and butchered women and children as a direct message to me, and you say I should relax?! How do I relax from that?!"
King Karim slowly lifted his eyes, a subtle flicker of annoyance in them. He didn't bother to straighten in his seat, merely adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve as if Cedric's outburst were an inconvenience, nothing more. "I can't allow you to attack Drakoria, not over this," Karim said, his voice calm as ever. He leaned back, eyes drifting to a painting on the far wall as though Cedric's fury didn't warrant his full attention. "At least not until we know for certain he actually did it, or hear what he has to say about it"
"So I should do nothing?! You expect me to do nothing?!"
"I didn't say that," Karim replied, still calm. "He is expected at my son's ceremony, we can talk about it then, but if you are too impatient, whatever you do, let it not be something that will make me have to step in for my daughter's husband. The continent doesn't need that. "
Cedric glared at him, his body taut with frustration. His fists unclenched slowly, but his jaw remained tight. This wasn't enough, but he knew it was the best he could get. He stormed out of the room, seething , while King Karim watched quietly, his middle finger drumming rhythmically on the table. He didn't take the boy to be rash so he must be planning something and Cedric would most likely fall into it. The south grows complicated by the day.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
Just like the rest of the castle, Ophelia didn't seem bothered by the cold to wear something heavy. Right now, as she walked down the hallway with me, she was wearing a fitted leather vest over a simple linen shirt, with snug, dark trousers tucked into sturdy boots. She came in last night, and from what she told me, the mission was a success. And though I am yet to receive word from Montreal it just means he will most likely do something, and fast. I'm not bothered about what he might do, he obviously won't kill me or invade, but maybe I can make something out of whatever that might be.
The knights pushed open the doors to my office, only been here once before, and there he was, sitting before the desk: rugged, grey-bearded man, with a soft wheel of fat around his middle, his oversized head bald, a few hair slicked across it.
"Your majesty" he greeted, his voice a blend of respect and faint tremor of anxiety.
"You can have a seat" I said, relaxing into my seat, Ophelia standing properly behind me.
Old buck. Unawakened. I read his first letter few weeks ago. Apparently Butler had created the group for image laundering of some sort. I didn't see any need for them anymore and didn't want to acknowledge their existence, so I ignored them—until now.
"You say there's still enough of you left?" I spoke, my voice low and measured.
"Aye,that's right" Old Buck replied with a bravado that seemed tempered by a hint of caution."Lost a few good folks in the lead-up to the war, but there's still a decent number of us around, enough to get back doing what we do."
I smiled, a faint twitch of amusement at the corner of my lips. I had my suspicions, I still have, why he contacted me first but it is work where he gets paid to spend his days and nights wasting at bars. It's basically a fantasy job for someone like him.
I leaned forward slightly. "I received word that Montreal is looking to cause problems in Drakoria," I began, watching him closely for any reaction. "We don't know what or where, so it could be in the coming days or months."
"Another war?" he asked, his voice gruffer.
"Possibly not" I replied "But something enough to get my attention. Now when that happens I need you and your people ahead of it. I need whispers across the continent, mostly outside the south about Montreal involvement. Exaggerate it if you may, make me the victim and most importantly, any news that puts me in a bad light regarding Montreal I need it countered and if possible use it to vilify Montreal more."
His face was that of confusion and not entirely masked. It tells me that I have overestimated their existence.
"Umm, Y-your Majesty," Old Buck stammered, chuckling nervously. "That's a bit--"
"I will increase your wages to 5 silvers per month" I cut in, relaxing back into my seat. "As a test run, and after 3 months and you want to continue then you can come back and tell me"
I can see the fight in his eyes. It was too much of a money to ignore but I think the risks he thought involved made him hesitant more than the doubts of if I would indeed pay 15 silvers in 3 months for creating gossips.
"Can I have time to think about it?"
"No," I replied sharply. "And if you do agree, when you inform the others, say nothing about the task. Tell them about the pay and the risks, and give the task only to those who agree. I also need to know the exact number that stayed."
He seems like a likable guy, but I don't trust him. He is trying his best to smile it off but I could tell he was nervous. I think he thought I would kill him if he rejects, and though I had no such intentions I wasn't in a haste to tell him. It might not be very important but I still would like it done. I had thought to include Estonia and Cremia but I thought better of it. I didn't want to risk giving anything away.
Old Buck cleared his throat, a forced chuckle escaping his lips. "Your Majesty, I'm in a right pickle here," he said, trying to lighten the mood.
I shook my head. "No, you're not," I said, my voice cool and dismissive. "You are in a position to protect your kingdom, of which you will be rewarded when all is done. Retired, if you will, a rich man"
It was not just about the money, I could tell. He wanted me to guarantee his safety but I'm unwilling to do that and he is understanding that now.
He shifted uneasily in his chair, his fingers drumming nervously against the armrest. "Your Majesty, we're just simple folk, you know?" he began, his voice taking on that gruff tone as he tried to keep his nerves in check. "We spin tales and keep ears open in the taverns, but stirring up the kind of whispers you're askin' for... that's a different kind of beast."
"Which is why I intend to make you rich off of it." I replied. "You may not want that for yourself, that's fine, let it be known to the rest, let's see if they too share your insistence to want to give up an opportunity of this nature. That will be all"
He looked at me, wanted to stare into my eyes, to ascertain his fate, but too much fear couldn't let him hold on for long to be sure. He stood up with a forced smile, bowed and left.
"What do you think of him," I asked Ophelia, after he was gone.
"...he has no choice" was the simple reply.
I nodded slowly, relaxing back into the seat. He sure doesn't.