He finally arrived at the relatively small city of Dodder. As someone as high profile as him he was used to more luxurious locations, but this job required a more nuanced hand than what anyone else at the tabulate syndicate could provide. He did not think he would have to waste too much time in this dirty hobble of a town anyways, his mark though powerful spent his earlier life as a peasant. He doubted that his mark had the expertise or foresight to implement many preventative measures against this kind of situation.

It took him mere moments to decide that there was no point in sight seeing in this insignificant town and dived straight to work. His mark was the one and only Jocund the Wall, an extremely powerful ex-peasant whose outstanding exploits in The Saviors during the second-human mokoi war led to the promotion as a low level noble complete with a worthless throw-away fief. Nothing particularly exciting so far, it never mattered how strong the mark was; it’s not like he was planning on ever fighting them.

No, the excitement came two-fold, the mark was not heralded as powerful for his offense; rather, he was renowned for his powerful defense. The man was not dubbed the wall pointlessly. As one of the earliest members of The Saviors it is sure that his resilience would be unmatched. Secondly the mark must never be identified as a mark. He had to admit, he was more than a little excited by the challenge laid before him. No one could know that Jocund was assassinated.

It was always the more technically involved jobs that got him the most excited. Joy was found in the gritty challenge of the task and the rules of this mark just screamed technical.

For now, he wouldn’t even bother formulating a plan. It was too early and he had too little information; anything he came up with now would simply fall apart. To begin he would observe. He hadn’t yet attained access to Jocund’s estate yet so he stuck to watching the perimeter. The entire estate was enveloped by a thick cobble wall. The wall had three entrances, the primary gate at the front, a servant’s entrance to the side, and an emergency exit at the back, oh and of course the sky, it was just a wall after all not a dome. That being said it was a tall wall and he would prefer to not test the hydraulic compression limits of his knees.

The main entrance faced heavy traffic, there was a constant flow of people in and out. It seemed that this Jocund guy fancied himself a man of the people, probably that peasant upbringing holding back the typical noble’s god complex. To match this traffic, the entrance had a constant set of guards, minimum three at all times, including at night. One wouldn’t be blamed for assuming the place contained excessive security from seeing this but then they would be wholly disappointed by the rest of the perimeter. The wall only had guards every ten meters or so and the servant’s entrance had only a single guard on rotation every three hours. The emergency exit had no guards but also remained locked at all times.

The servant’s entrance was by far the weakest link. He had only been watching for a few days and he could already see cracks forming. Guards would leave before the next shift dismissed them, or they’d let groups of servants pass after only inspecting one for their qualifications, for shame underpaid louts. He watched the servants’ entrance for a few more days and already mapped out the hierarchy of guards. Guarding this entrance wasn’t prestigious, it was tedious and unthanked. Many of the new hires would be sent here so their superiors could go off and do more interesting tasks. This meant that many of the guards had yet to familiarize themselves with the staff.

He didn’t completely ignore the rest of the perimeter of course, there was still plenty of information that could be gleamed from the main entrance and wall sentries. He began to notice that at the same time on the same day once a week the estate received only one visitor. The visitor arrived in a gaudily ordained carriage which also each week carried the same emblem. From his initial study he knew this emblem belonged to the viscount who had married Jocund’s daughter. A weekly familial meeting of a rising star noble, already he could picture the thousands of reasons he could have been hired for this job. The reason was not relevant though, just fun to think about.

Listening to the rumor mill endlessly flow from the wall sentries on eventless nights helped him get a better insight of the inner goings of the estate even before he found his way in. First thing that became painfully clear was that he could not allow himself to get caught. Even at fifty and missing an arm Jocund frequently hijacked the guards training regimen for his own exercising lessons, and if the complaints were anything to go by time had not slowed Jocund very much.

More helpful information from the wall sentries was the identity within the carriage. A granddaughter to Jocund. She was quite the pompous brat if rumors were to be believed and he always believed rumors; after all, rumors were always more important than reality in his field of work. Being the first character of Jocund’s lineage to actually be born into the noble life meant her views and education clashed with the humble origins of her mother. This was why once a week kind ol’grandpa comes to the rescue to play with his granddaughter and hopefully teach her a few lessons about kindness and purity and rainbows while he’s at it; sorry grandpa, no can do.

Next up was the servants. They were an obvious choice for any infiltration mission, constantly moving, acting, changing, and most importantly forgettable. No one really payed attention to the servants except of course the servants. Only a foolish assassin would just don the clothes of a worker and jump on in.

He toyed with his meat and potatoes at the table one over watching a few gardeners and attendants get hammered on their measly savings at a dingy bar. He wondered if they knew he was watching if they would be honored. They probably never had someone pay as much attention to them before and he was even the type of person who frequently payed attention to nobles. In his eyes they were all the same, nobles, servants, family, hammers, tools.

One of the servants had accidentally dropped their identification in a drunken stupor, not a problem for the servant since security was lax enough and he was surrounded by friends who would vouch for him to be accepted back in the estate. It also meant that this soon to be giant killer now had his way in to the estate; Jocund probably wasn’t a giant but with the way the guards talked about him it really sounded like it.

Seeing the paper up close it was not in fact an identification card for the servant but a permission slip detailing reason and timing of the trip as well as a very basic description of the servant. That’s right description, no drawing, no magic signature, just hair color, sex and a signature. The slip was for accounting not security. Better yet he had already found out that a not insignificant population of the guards were illiterate. Forging his ticket in had just become trivial.

No great assassination is complete without a dash of stupid luck to aid. One day while spying on the main entrance he spotted a huge influx of servants. Turns out a new batch of workers had been hired to accommodate the increased workforce required for some expansion within the estate. Why in the world had he not heard any guards or servants mention this expansion or coming wave of workers he had no idea, but he would happily take the opportunity provided.

The new employees all came from out of town so that was good in terms of unfamiliarity, but they were also all living on grounds so that unfamiliarity was temporary. It would buy him a few days of investigation inside, but he would have to find a new way in after if necessary.

The very next day he forged himself a task slip, made sure to have an illiterate guard check it for him and made his way into the estate. The initial investigation was painfully easy, he simply joined the first day of orientation and then pretty much just worked at the estate for a few days. He made sure to rotate between groups and never work with the same person twice to ensure no memorability. Everyone was quite busy, so he thought that went well enough.

He couldn’t get away with this brazen approach for long, he briefly debated actually becoming an employee, but a few casual conversations quickly confirmed that these employees were purposefully bought with prior relations. It was almost like this guy was screaming I’m up to something please hire an assassin, if so then hello there. Anyways, the employee strategy was bust. He merely had to memorize the entire building layout within the week, that should be the most he could get away wit before people start remembering faces and names. It would be a challenge to map the entire estate yes but by no means an impossible task.

It was his fourth day of work as an employee and he handed in his task slip to the guard at the servant entrance. The slip was completely filled out with believable information, but he still preferred to give it to an illiterate guard. The guard, even though the assassin knew he was illiterate, brought the paper close to his eyes and carefully analyzed it. The guard gave the assassin a satisfied smile. “All looks good Smite, is that how you pronounce to name? I just started learning to read so I still find it hard sometimes.”

The assassin gave the guard his own smile in return. “It’s pronounced Smith actually. Keep at it though, you were close.”

The guard laughed “Will do. Alright you can go, I won’t keep you. Don’t want you getting in any trouble because of me.”

He walked away from the guard and began his day of work. That interaction was as innocent of a warning shot as he could get. The encounter if anything was memorable and he didn’t want anyone remembering him, especially by name, even if it was a fake one. Memorability was the worst thing imaginable for an assassin. He had pretty much memorized the entire estate layout by this point regardless and was confident he could simply sneak around undetected. No disguise or employee work needed. Today’s task was acquiring a key to the emergency exit so he wouldn’t have to use the servant’s entrance again.

His first task as a servant today was to work in the gardens at the back of the estate. The garden was out of the way and large enough that no other servants were close enough to see the specifics of his actions. He took the opportunity to pocket a handful of soft clay.

He had to find the key, first obvious guess would be Jocund’s bedroom or office. There’s probably one in both. Jocund was once a peasant and spent most of his developing life as a dumb smooth brained adventurer, well as a world-renowned hero part of the greatest adventuring team ever formed but potato, potahto. Regardless, he highly doubted that Jocund frequented that office all too often.

He slipped into Jocund’s office, the cleanliness of the room basically confirming its abandoned state. It actually seemed so unused that he was beginning to worry that it might not even have the key in it. His fears were unfounded though as he soon found the key in a not so hidden compartment under the main desk. He tested the key for any magical signature imprinted on it. Frustratingly the key did have one. He could replicate the signature, but it would take time. He poked his head out of the office and found the hallway was empty.

Magic wasn’t his strong suit. It was his one glaring weakness as an assassin. It was actually surprising how little knowledge he needed on magic security for all the wizards he had to kill. He may not be an expert; he definitely didn’t know the difference between arcana and essence or what in the world a loka was but copying a key’s signature was withing his grasp.

It took him a few minutes longer than he would have liked but eventually he memorized the signature. He squished the key into his pile of clay to get a physical mold and returned the key to its position untouched.

He followed the next batch of servants out of the estate on some random errand and casually detached from the group. A short visit to a smithy and he now had his very own emergency exit key. The next few days would be dedicated to Jocund.

His observations confirmed the wall sentry’s complaints. He felt his own muscles ached just watching the work regimen that Jocund forced them through. Worst of all Jocund did the exact same routine without breaking a sweat and with only one arm.

Jocund was quite the busy individual and he loved mingling with the servants. There were very few opportunities with him alone. Any method to take him out would have to be done from a distance and brought to him by someone else. The obvious choice would be poison, but the death had to seem natural and Jocund was a big guy, any amount of poison required to kill him would be easily traceable. Poison was out. Jocund was old though, a fifty-year-old man especially one who has pushed their body to the extent of Jocund must have some weakness. Surely there was some medical condition Jocund had to manage to keep healthy. If that condition was tampered with then Jocund could be killed using an actual natural death.

Only issue was that Jocund had the constitution of a juggernaut. He never once showed any sign of illness or strain. That was until his granddaughter arrived. Jocund and his granddaughter met in one of the guest’s rooms for their weekly meetings. The topics were all mostly trivial, the granddaughter would complain about how much work and study she was forced to do to be an educated noble and Jocund would occasionally scold her for not giving the servants the proper respect they were due. As if it actually mattered whether she thanked the servant bringing in the pastries or not.

There it was, his weakness. Thank the devadoots for children’s sweet teeth. A servant had brought in a large platter of diverse pastries along with a cup of tea for the granddaughter and a cup of coffee for Jocund. The granddaughter had quite the sweet teeth indeed; when the food arrived she did not hesitate to tell Jocund all about how her desserts are greatly limited and monitored at home all while she stuffed her cheeks full of the coconut sprinkled pastry. My goodness she really liked the coconut flavored ones.

He was getting distracted, what was more important was the visual discrepancy between the two halves of the platter, well aside from the visual discrepancy that one side had significantly less pastries remaining. The pastries on the half of the platter that faced Jocund had less powder and their dough was a paler color; Jocund had some kind of dietary restriction inhibiting him from having the same sugary goodness as his granddaughter. He would have to wait a few weeks to watch their next meeting and confirm that this wasn’t a one off, but it was a good start.

He started watching the kitchen attentively throughout the days and he didn’t even have to wait the week to find that Jocund had a blood pressure problem. Salts, sugars, and fats were heavily monitored for all of Jocund’s meals.

The week came and went, and the granddaughter’s next visit arrived. Something interesting happened then, the staff had to go out and collect some coconuts as an ingredient for her favorite pastry of their batch. Coconut was never stocked in the estate and was collected exclusively for the granddaughter. On this day the food tester meticulously watched the entire baking process down to the final step, adding the coconut sprinkles. The food tester then grabbed one pastry left to the side that did not have any sprinkles and tested it. He gave the chef a thumbs up and brought it to the guest room. The food tester had an allergy.

Jocund has high blood-pressure, the food tester is allergic the coconuts, and Jocund always has coffee while his granddaughter has tea. A plan was forming.

It was time for his favorite part of the job, the part where the deed was done. His plan was simple, plant an inert enzyme in Jocund’s coffee on the day of his meeting with his granddaughter. Find the source of the coconuts and inject a faint reagent in the coconuts which would react with the poisoned coffee to activate it. The enzyme’s activated would break down the more complex ingredients in Jocund’s altered pastries breaking them down back into the more basic unfiltered sugars which would increase his blood pressure leading to heart failure.

Everything had to be perfectly untraceable which was why he had to divvy up his poison across three sources; each source was perfectly harmless on its own and undiscernible from the usual food that was made for him. The only conclusion to be made upon his death was that he had high blood-pressure but still recklessly exercised non-stop, a heart condition was inevitable.

Source one: The altered pastries themselves. There was not much for him to do in this case since the servants would be willingly constructing this poison themselves. He just had to make sure that the ingredients they were using could in fact be broken down into their base sugars. Thankfully they could. From their he just had to come up with the enzyme and activator required to get the job done and bring them to the other sources.

Source two: the coconuts were easy enough to find, he just followed the servants one week when they went to collect them, the greater issue was injecting them with the reagent without damaging the coconut shell. If he couldn’t touch the coconut, then his only option was to touch the tree. The reagent he was using was a substrate, specifically one that naturally occured in living organisms as an enzyme activator. If he injected the reagent into the pruner blades of the coconut tree, then it would identify the substrate as a natural component of itself and the tree would feed the substrate to the coconuts.

Source three: Getting the enzyme into the coffee was a little more complicated. He couldn’t change the composition of the source since the coffee was imported. It was difficult to access the coffee grinds themselves since they were always stored in the estate but not impossible. The larger issue was that the enzyme had a life expectancy to it. Enzymes are designed to remain in living things, last he checked coffee was not living so he had to insert the enzyme within an hour of delivery. This was exceptionally difficult because it was being made during that hour and the kitchen was obviously full.

Dishes were washed before and after every meal. He knew he could not get to the coffee within the final hour of arriving at Jocund’s lips but he could get to the water that touched the spoon that was used to draw the foam on the coffee’s surface. The water was drawn from the well which was carelessly left outside unguarded. He just had to infect the well with the enzyme alongside some nutritional proteins and acids to increase its resilience to soaps and natural diffusion slightly and the enzyme would make its way over to the coffee on its own.

“Mar it is lovely to see you as always.”

“Grandpa!” Mar ran over to her grandfather lunging into his embrace where he then lifted her up throwing her into the sky and catching her again with his one arm. Her grandfather hugged her tightly and she kissed him on the cheek.

Mar took her grandfather’s hand as he walked her over to the visiting room. Strangely though they walked straight past the guest room without even stopping. “Grandpa why aren’t we going to the guest room?”

Her grandfather gave her a courteous giggle. His voice was so deep she felt it resonate in her chest. “Well you’ve been coming here quite a lot. I don’t think you’re a guest anymore. I have a secret to show you.”

“A secret?” Mar tried to reply calmly and without emotion as she was taught but her excited curiosity was seeping through.

“Yes, I have kept it secret from you for a while but I’ve actually been building a whole new extension of the estate just for you!”

“For me?”

“Yes, now you can stay more comfortably and longer if you so wished.” Two servants that they were approaching opened a large set of double doors revealing the new visiting room. The room was many times larger than the old guest room and had many doors lined against the opposing walls implying a much more elaborate construction hidden further in. “But for now, I already had prepared your favorite snack. Happy birthday Mar.”

Mar looked at her grandfather with tears in her eyes. “It’s amazing grandpa thank you!” Mar ran into the thick legs of her grandfather trying her best to wrap him in a hug. He gently wrapped his arm around her lightly rubbing her back.

“How does it feel to turn six sweetie?” The two made their way to a pair of chairs at the center of the room. The chairs were large cushioned beasts that could probably fit two adults side by side comfortably each. A servant came in with a platter full of pastries while another carried a cup of tea and coffee for Mar and her grandfather, respectively.

The chair was tall enough that Mar couldn’t simply sit herself down, but it was intelligently designed with some steps on its side allowing her to easily position herself. Once she was comfortably sat a servant offered her the cup of tea. She happily took the tea and sipped it happily enjoying that special blend of flavor she only got at this place.

Similarly, Jocund sat down at the chair opposite and took the cup of coffee offered to him. “Thank you for the coffee Serf.” The servant bowed to Jocund in reply. He raised the coffee to his lips about to drink when the servant quietly started to leave the room. Jocund put the coffee down without drinking and called to the servant. “Serf can you wait please?”

Serf bowed to Jocund. “Yes sir.”

Jocund turned to Mar basking in the warmth of her tea. “Are you enjoying your tea Mar?”

She nodded cheerfully to her grandfather. “It’s delicious!”

“Then shouldn’t you thank the person who gave it to you?” Mar was taken aback slightly by the question. The concept always slid her mind, but this was just the strange way things worked at her grandfather’s place. She didn’t really understand it. Her father told her it was because Jocund wasn’t born a noble and so didn’t know proper etiquette. It didn’t matter, it was an important rule to follow here and Mar liked her grandfather, so she’d obey.

“Thank you for the tea.”

“His name is Serf, Mar.”

“Thank you for the tea Serf.” The servant bowed to Mar and walked off to the corner of the room.

Jocund raised his coffee and brought it to his smiling lips. He lowered the coffee briefly. “Now doesn’t it feel so much better to be nice to the people who are nice to you?”

“Yes grandpa.” Her words were affirming but her behavior clearly showed that she didn’t actually understand.

Jocund gave a dismissive shrug. “One day you’ll get it.” He raised the coffee and took a sip. He let out a satisfied gasp. He had to swear that the barista in his estate was the best in all of Trammel. He didn’t have the time to properly savor every bit of the coffee if he wanted his share of the pastries. He couldn’t have coconut often since his food tester was allergic, but it was a worthwhile sacrifice for a tester as trustworthy and sensitive as him. It did mean though that he had to race his granddaughter to the desserts. Even if his pastries had far less sugar in them, and even she agreed they didn’t taste as good, her hunger for coconut knew know restraint, she would often steal some of his pastries as well. In fact, she already had.

Jocund took one of his special coconut pastries and was about to eat it when Mar called out to him. “Grandpa can I have a taste of your coffee?”

Jocund put down his pastry and raised an eyebrow to his granddaughter. “Children shouldn’t drink coffee; it will stunt their growth.”

Mar let out a tired moan. “But I’m not a child anymore, I’m six already.”

Jocund burst out into laughter. Oh, how sweet the naivety of childhood was.

Mar placed her hands together begging. “Please grandpa I always wanted to taste but no one lets me. Just a tiny sip for my birthday?”

Jocund thought it over for a bit. He supposed just a little sip wouldn’t hurt. She’d probably hate it as well and never ask again so maybe it could even be a good idea. “Only a little sip?”

“The smallest sip.” Mar excitedly reported back in anticipation.

Jocund leaned forward to hand the coffee over to Mar but right when she was going to grab it, he pulled back. “I’ll let you have a sip when you thank every servant that helps you without forgetting for five days.”

Mar’s frustrated mumbles just made Jocund laugh as he leaned back and bit into his pastry. The pastry was really good. It tasted far better than it usually did. It somehow tasted much sweeter than normal. He looked at the partially eaten snack in his hands to confirm he hadn’t accidentally grabbed the wrong confectionary. He hadn’t, it was a perfectly normal treat. That was strange, maybe he had forgotten how sweet these desserts were. He happily finished it off and went for another.

Their meeting continued for a few hours and they had long since finished their dessert and drinks. Eventually it came time for Mar to go home and that was it.

“What?”

Jocund turned around confused. He looked to his servant. “Did you say something?”

The servant shook their head no. Meanwhile, the assassin had both hands cupped over his mouth hidden in the dark corners of the bannister. It was a moronic slip up, but he couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise as Jocund appeared totally fine after eating every last one of the desserts. Well almost every one, he got pretty scared when the granddaughter asked to taste the coffee after having some of the tainted desserts. Crisis averted luckily.

He didn’t quite know what to do now. The best move would probably be to leave and think over a new plan, but he instead decided to stay and watch Jocund a little longer.

Jocund appeared completely unaffected by the poison but good news came when Jocund decided to go to bed far earlier than he usually did. Of course, the big hunk of muscle was just being stubborn and or underplaying the heartache. His heart must be going nuts at the moment. Jocund went to sleep thinking it was just a brief lapse thinking some rest would solve the problem.

Jocund closed his eyes and slept. Now was probably the time to leave, Jocund would die in his sleep and the assassin didn’t want to be anywhere near when it happened. He didn’t leave, he was paranoid, he wanted to stay until he personally saw Jocund dead. The entire night he watched Jocund sleep like a baby. A little shuffling and sweating but nowhere near the agony he should have been demonstrating.

Day had finally come, light streaming out from the day star sneaking through the large windows told him that he couldn’t watch any longer, he had to leave. He was surprised that his plan had failed so utterly, but such was life sometimes. He would leave the estate and think of a different plan. Just as he was about to walk away he heard the chime of a bell. The assassin turned to face Jocund where that foreign sound had come from. In front of Jocund a small pink rhombus grew out of thin air, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other shapes. The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with only one limb. One arm was outstretched towards Jocund. The arm held onto a glowing parchment.

Jocund didn’t make any reaction to the sudden intruder. A great member of the Saviors, a man who fought against the mokoi khan and won was such a heavy sleeper that anyone could kill him in his sleep just like that? The assassin walked over to Jocund’s sleeping body and checked his pulse. He was dead. When did that happen!? Who dies of a heart attack that casually? The assassin turned to look at the glowing parchment: it read.

You have been invited to The Tournament You are The Bulwark

“Well he won’t be needing this anymore.” The assassin took the invitation, and the pink entity reversed its morphing process until it shrunk out of existence. Wasn’t this an invitation to that legendary Tournament thing? He was pretty sure the winner of that thing got any wish they desired granted. Of course, winner just meant being the last one alive. He may just have found his next job, and it would have a far greater payout with far more interesting marks than anything the Tabulate Syndicate could cook him up.