I gave the man standing across from me a once over, keeping a mask of pleasantry up the whole time. He was a fairly stylish man, wearing a slightly different, more complicated outfit than most in Crossroads bothered with. Consisting of lots of reds and golds, the robes mixed with more regular formal clothing created a distinctly upper class but slightly foreign effect, something I’m sure he capitalised on to great effect.

“Well now, no need for the hostility.” I said relaxedly, holding up my hands in mock surrender. The lead man squinted his brown eyes suspiciously at me while running a hand through his slightly curly golden locks, far brighter than Rethi’s own sandy blonde.

“Oh, I think I do need the hostility, Avenforth.” He spat with some small amount of anger, “You might be able to food the rich idiots into accepting your little tirade through the social circles, but you can’t fool me so easily.”

“Tirade?” I asked placidly, moving a step towards the other man. However, before I could move forward another step, the man to his left rattled the sword that sat at his side warningly.

I turned my eyes towards the other man, finding him wearing something more akin to my own suit rather than the far more elaborate layers of robes that his friend wore. It was formal military in nature, of course, though of what particular military or policing force the particular uniform belonged to was lost on me. Though in some small places there was little insignias of a blazing sun, only adding to the veracity of the information I’d received.

“Yes, your tirade.” The golden-haired man said scornfully, “I was there the night you appeared from nowhere, whisking Valeri Ephars away with barely a few minutes of chatting. You have no background to speak of, and no peerage to fall back on. You are nothing more than an imposter.” I raised an eyebrow amusedly, all my other features pulling into a humorous smile.

“And when have I claimed that I was anything more than just that, Illias Traniel?” I turned from the incensed expression of that man and looked deeper into his partner’s.

He wasn’t a beautiful man like the man beside him, but his physique, posture, and even his expression was clearly born through training and hardship. The man’s slightly darker skin was still pale in comparison to Valeri’s own astoundingly dark skin, but its natural hue was likely not all that different than the pale man who served as his commander.

“You claimed that you were more than that when you imposed on the grounds of the Brightspark!”

“If you’re foolish enough to believe that everyone that rests within the Brightspark is exactly who they say they are, then sure.” I retorted nigh instantly, not even looking at Illias, more interested in his stoic friend. There was a small gasp of offense, but I waved the retort he was cooking up away, “Honestly, Illias, I could care less about your petty ego. I’m here, in this shitty little room, because you accepted my request to meet and set this as your desired location.”

I gestured around us at what amounted to an unused cellar underneath a foreclosed-on bar in the north-west quarter. It was musky and dark, the only furniture being a decently sized wooden table and a slew of chairs surrounding it.

“So, either you love exploring the grimiest places in the city, for which I’d recommend the latrines, or you have information that you wouldn’t mind leaving your hands if something of an equal weight is placed within.” The other man almost growled with irritation, but eventually flipped the side of his cloak and sat in a chair around the table, clearly expecting me to take the opposite side, which I did.

His military friend didn’t sit, standing by his side with a somewhat wary gaze, hand never quite leaving the short sword he held at his side.

“Fine, what do you want to know?” The man said as he leaned back in his chair, probably being as impolite as possible.

“What’s your tie to the Brauhm Empire?” Illias looked at me drolly.

“And why would I tell you?” I returned the droll look.

“Because your relative status would tell me how much you might know about the given topic, or if you’ll end up with more information by my simply explaining it. Information security, you see.” Illias scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Sixth son of Rayfar Traniel, head chair of the Bel-Far Merchant Conglomerate,” I gave the man a look and the continued on begrudgingly, “here to establish political ties and do some basic cost benefit before Bel-Far considers investing.” I raised an eyebrow again.

“Considers investing?” I laughed lightly, “That’s pretty rich coming from the representative for one of the strongest mercantile powers behind legitimising the slave trade between Brauhm and Vahla.” Both Illias and his military subordinate bristled.

“The Bel-Far Conglomerate do not–”

“Do not bullshit me, Illias.” I let the relatively amiable gaze dry up and become a scathing glare, apparently intense enough that the military man shifted subtly into a defending stance. “The Bel-Far Conglomerate pump massive amounts of money through Crossroads to keep that trade alive, even as the incompetent ‘nobility’ in Vahla risk an uprising to keep their pockets lined.”

As I looked into the face of the slightly stricken man across from me, I realised just how angry I was. The talk of slavery and injustice had been so far off not too long ago, but now one of the perpetuators, one of the many fingers of a morally bankrupt, man-made eldritch horror sat right in front of me daring to assume an innocent guise.

“You.” I said, turning towards the military man who was shocked to even be addressed, though it didn’t show on his face. “Who are you?” I intentionally tapered off the heat in my voice, despite the anger I had for his superior.

“Garrian, sir.” He said warily, though a strictly respectful tone was used. Probably something beat into him in his service.

“Your family name? Title?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. I had done at least some research on the Brauhm Empire and their ways, including how they shamed people and stripped any of rights away.

“I have been disinherited by the Emperor and Brauhm’s will.” He said stonily, though I could feel the hurt as I forced him to say the words. I almost felt bad for the man if I wasn’t about to use it to defend him in my next sentence.

“Disinherited, hm?” I turned to Illias and fixed him with a burning gaze, “And how, exactly, did he come to work under your employ?” Illias screwed up his nose at me with an imperious look.

“I acquired him from Military prison and as a part of his sentence, he works under my employ.” The vile man was about to continue onwards, his filthy mouth about to spout more casual evil, but I’d heard enough.

“For no money, with no standards of living, with a contract that can be extended in perpetuity on a technicality, with absolutely no control over what they’ll be doing, who they’ll be working with, or what they are ordered to do.” I stopped briefly, the string of cold words leaking from me in smooth sequence, “Does that sound familiar to you, Illias Traniel?”

I placed each and every word with a precise measure, impacting against both of the men’s emotional states and psyches. Yet even when Illias’ mouth opened, presumably to defend himself or the company, or even the Empire his company hides behind, I switched tactics entirely. With a newfound amiable grin, I cut in before the man.

“But, again, that’s hardly what I’m here for. Everything in its due time, yes?” The almost happy words seemed to terrify the man more than he’d like to let on, even his compatriot was sufficiently perturbed despite his stoic façade. While I might not exactly be capitalising on my combat prowess just yet, there was certainly something to be said for a dangerous social presence as well.

“What are you really here for, then?” Illias asked, trying to reinsert his own presence and gain a foothold, but he only managed to sound weak and scared, even to his subordinate.

“Well,” I began as if I was beginning a fairy tale, “one night, a few nights ago now, I came across some very interesting information about a little group of assassins, I believe.” Illias immediately went stock still, a little colour draining from his face.

“I didn’t learn all that much about them, just the name they go by and a few little tidbits about just who they’d be involved with.” I let my overly cheery, but convincingly genuine gaze bore into the other man, throwing him off his own game even further.

“I don’t know–” I cut him off again as if he’d never spoken in the first place.

“You see, I have a sneaking suspicion that there are a good few people outside of Crossroads orchestrating some… advantageous situations to control its internal political climate. Quite the scandal if true, but let’s be honest, it’s pretty stock standard when it comes to combating political insurrection in very profitable investments, isn’t that right Illias?” The man in question was losing control over his mask completely now. He’d been sent here to cut his teeth on an actually important endeavour, one that was important enough to use the services of a covert group of possible shifter assassins.

However, the only reason why Illias Traniel was here, rather than any other competent politician or merchant was because of nepotism. He might be a half decent power in his own element, building his own little social web of the elite in Crossroads, but faced up against me who had all the social power of a sledgehammer, he floundered as the conversation was no longer governed by the strict social ‘rules’ of courts and upper-class idiocy.

“So, I will make this nice and clear for you, Illias.” I stated merrily, “Tell me about Shadow Walkers.”

And so he did.

Thankfully, there were no glaring mistakes with my already presumed understanding of the Shadow Walkers. They are even ‘officially’ called as such. The Shadow Walkers are effectively Church sponsored assassins, though they aren’t really beholden to the Church either. They are implicitly tied to the Brauhm Empire and are taught to ‘walk in the Shadow of Brauhm’s Light’, which seems a little against the point. Because of just how intertwined the Church of Daylight and the Brauhm Empire itself are, the Shadow Walkers quite literally double as a covert operative sect for the Empire itself, meddling in secular affairs on the regular.

So, when the Shadow Walkers went from being entirely under the thumb of the Daylight Church to quite a few very powerful and very devoted members splintering from the Church itself and establishing themselves as their own entity, things got messy fast.

Apparently they went a little too wild for a while there, assassinating the heads of multiple different extremely powerful households. Though soon enough they started to get the hang of their own political power, something they’d borrowed understanding of from the extremely politically conservative Church of Daylight, who’d play political chess with assassinations. Over the course of a few generations of household heads, the Shadow Walkers managed to prune the political environment to their liking and now they focus on growing the Brauhm Empire under the command of the Emperor that they managed to put into power in the first place.

While I had expected some of this, I didn’t expect them to be so… controlling. I had expected a hire for cash band of shifting assassins, not a religious order of Brauhm nutcases that seek to destabilise and conquer the world. It didn’t entirely make sense why they did jobs for hire, though I guess it might be a ploy to trick the lower-level powers in and out of Brauhm into thinking that they are just assassins who are fickle with their jobs. If true, they probably only take a job when it’s politically advantageous to either them or the Brauhm Empire, or its a complete dummy job to spread the rumours.

Clever bit of politics there.

“Well,” I began flippantly, staring at the gutted fish that was Illias Traniel, “I honestly thought you’d be more stupid than that, but I guess you can be a blithering idiot and still possess a few wits to work with.”

“What’s my payment, then?” The man asked, ignoring the insults as he ground his teeth together. He knew full well that he was in absolutely no place to ask for any payment at all.

“And why do you deserve payment, idiot?” I asked succinctly as I stood from my chair.

“Because I can be an inside man within the Bel-Far Conglomerate and the Brauhm Empire.” He said instantly. Maybe he really wasn’t an idiot. I could feel within his mind a surety that I was a wave to be ridden on, even if it meant he was going against the usual tide.

“And I should trust you?” I asked simply. He swallowed heavily and was about to speak before a very dark tone shattered the moment, the thunderous words echoing from Garrian’s mouth.

“You wish to betray the Empire?”