Almost five years ago.

The water was calm as the steamboat slowly made its way towards Victoria. From this distance the city wasn’t yet visible. The black smoke from the factory district however was. Eli was standing at the prow of the ship, where others could easily avoid him. As always, the retributor was two meters behind him. The retributor hadn’t given him any privacy, not even to take a shit. The man was always within killing distance, hand clasped around the pommel of his sword. If Eli gave him any excuse he would pull out the sword and strike him down. Perhaps that was preferable to what was waiting for Eli back home. The Mercian Bureaucracy wasn’t known for its mercy.

“You have one of those to spare?” Eli nodded at the cigarette the other man was smoking. The retributor grunted and threw him the pack. Eli lighted one up and inhaled the smoke. It was only fitting he regained an addiction as he neared his former home. Cigarettes were a lot milder than Blow, if ever wanted to get off them the symptoms wouldn’t be half as bad. He shuddered when he remembered how he had gone through withdrawal. Blow enhanced the senses, the moment an addict stopped taking it his senses would dull. Half-blind, smelling nothing but blood and completely deaf Eli had spent nearly a month begging, crying and shitting himself somewhere in an alley in the asshole of creation. It had been the lowest point in his life.

“When I get home tomorrow I’m going to hug my daughter, kiss my wife, have a drink and an amazing night.” The retributor blew out a plume of smoke and grinned. “You on the other hand will be dead or rotting in a jailcell. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? How can you be such a major fuck up?” Eli knew that the man was provoking him on purpose, that he was being baited into making a move so that there would be no trial. Which is why he tried to remain calm. A feat which was made a lot harder by the screaming voices in his head.

“Kill him Eli, we know you can. Didn’t you kill five trained professional assassins? What is he, except for another murderous dickwad? Do it Eli! This is what you were born to do!”

Eli released the smoke through his nose. His veins have all become entirely black, his thoughts have blackened with it. So, he did the only thing that he could do. He banned out the voices by doing nothing, but think of Rosa. Her voice, her touch, her face, her absence hurts even in that moment. He loved her so much, she made all the pain worth it, but she is far away, in the monarchy’s heartland.

“If you kill the zealot you could be with her.” A female voice said.

It is lying of course. Even if Eli managed to kill the retributor, take over the ship and return to Rosa, Mercia wouldn’t let him go. They would just send the other three retributors, all at once, and this time their mission would be simple, search and destroy. No, Eli would be brought before the court, found guilty of several crimes, and be condemned to death. He would go to the gallows, head held high, thinking of Rosa every step of the way. He was going to die tomorrow and there was nothing he could do about it, his fate was sealed.

“I told you Eli, I have plans for you.” The female voice said. Only it wasn’t a woman who was speaking to Eli. Over the past few months he had finally figured it out. All the voices he heard were in fact one voice. They all belonged to an entity who could read Eli’s mind and tortured him for fun. A devil that had come to sit on his shoulder because he hadn’t followed God’s path. If God had designed it to be so, it was a very cruel deity indeed. During his time in the monarchy he had grown fond of the local gods. Apart from the god of war their gods were all quite peaceful, focusing on creating instead of destroying.

Eli turned towards his captor, who was still waiting for a response to his insult. The moment he turned around the retributor clasped his blade tighter. “Could you stop provoking me? If you’re patient I will be swinging from the gallows by midday tomorrow. They will make an example out of me, not a public one, but it will be seen by my colleagues. Everybody that matters will know what happens when you run. So, if you sit still, shut up and leave me alone, both the state and your church will profit. Got it?”

The other man smiled. “Okay devil boy, if you say so. I will stop hurting your feelings.” Eli sighed, threw his cigarette overboard and went to his cabin. He would be tried as soon as they arrived, he wanted to get some sleep in before he was hanged.

⤊

Eli was sitting in a waiting room, shackled, waiting for his trial. As always, the retributor was with him. In a few hours he would be rid of the man for good, which would have been a relief, hadn’t it been for Eli’s own demise. As things stood, Eli was tired, hungry and eager to get the whole thing over with.

Some clerk opened the door. “Mister de Winter, the court will see you now.” Eli stood up, followed by his shadow, and proceeded to walk through the door, straight into the courtroom. Like all governmental institutions Victoria’s grand court was a display of wealth and power. Normally in a trail like Eli’s there would have been a crowd of onlookers, eager to see him convicted. But instead of piercing gazes filled with hate and tongues silenced by police presence Eli was met by an empty courtroom. There were no guards, no reporters, no onlookers, save for the judges, the retributor, Eli’s lawyer and himself there was no one at all.

It made sense, the government wouldn’t want to let it slip that it had taken them this long to find and arrest one of their own assets. Mercian assassins were feared for the single fact that the bureaucracy maintained the illusion that all assassins were under direct control of the government. Eli shuffled towards his lawyer’s side, but the moment he sat down the man stood up and approached the judges.

“Esteemed judges of the court, as you can see my client is obsolete, in accordance with the law I will withdraw from this case.” A judge nodded, and the lawyer marched out of the courtroom. As he stopped briefly in front of Eli. “There is no defence for heretics who have strayed as far from God as you have.” The lawyer’s face showed nothing but contempt and disgust. Eli raised his eyebrows. “If that is all? The defence would like you to fuck off.” The lawyer scoffed. “Strong words for a man who is about to be sentenced. I will look forward to seeing you swing.” Dick.

“Mister de Winter the court will now preside over the charges that have been brought against you. You’ve been accused of the murder of August Cabaneri, straying from the path of God, leaving the country without permit, tax evasion and dereliction of court duty.” Eli looked up from his seat. The judges were seated on a plateau up high, so that he had to crane his neck to look at them. “Additionally, the court wishes to inform you that earlier this year you were accused of the murder of Charles Kingsburg and five other employees of Cabaneri Incorporated. This court saw you cleared off these charges due to a lack of evidence and the absence of a viable witness. Even though the cases are connected this court will not take those charges, nor their outcomes, into consideration during this trial. Do you understand the charges brought against you?”

Eli nodded. “I do.”

The Regent Justice ruffled through some paper. “First, we will start with the charges regarding dereliction of court duty, tax evasion and your unauthorized emigration. The court has found you guilty of these three charges. However, since you couldn’t have made an appearance in court due to being out of the country we will lower the sentence from three years in prison to one. Instead of the prison sentence you can pay a fine of ten thousand crowns. Do you accept this verdict?”

“I do.” Something was happening, it wasn’t yet clear what, but a small flame of hope had ignited within Eli’s heart.

“The sentence for tax evasion is normally twenty-five years of forced labour in one of the colonies. The state is however willing to wave this sentence in exchange for the as of yet unpaid taxes plus a fee of twenty thousand crowns, to be paid within two years. Do you accept this verdict?”

“I do.” Thirty thousand crowns weren’t a small sum, but it was something Eli could easily get his hands on, given some time.

“Seeing that the aforementioned three crimes are all linked the court has decided that thirty thousand crowns in fines are a severe enough punishment. The court isn’t without mercy, which has been extended.” The Regent Justice pouted a little as he spoke the words, as if he personally didn’t agree in the slightest with the situation.

“Moving on to the murder of August Cabaneri. The court has reviewed the evidence, and found you guilty of premeditated murder, the punishment of which is death.” Eli’s heart sunk in his chest. “However, it has been brought to the court’s attention that mister Cabaneri committed several crimes against Mercia and its people.” The judge plucked a piece of paper from the pile next to him. “Some of these files are redacted in the interest of national security, but your former boss was definitely guilty of consorting with known criminals, murder for hire, facilitating the illegal killings of prominent national figures, facilitating the drug trade, facilitating illegal gambling operations, smuggling, piracy, murder, manslaughter, bribery, inside trading and crimes against the faith.” The judge coughed.

“Due to the nature of his crimes August Cabaneri’s murder has been reclassified as a necessary death. Eli de Winter, during the time of the assassination you were still legally classified as an assassin ordained by God, in service of the Mercian government. This means that you were simply executing your duties as you saw fit, within the boundaries of the law, and thus can’t be found guilty of a crime, for none was committed. This court dismisses the charge of murder brought against you.”

Somewhere behind Eli the retributor shifted uneasily from his left to his right foot. He too had noticed that something strange was going on. Victoria’s grand court was a lot of things, but never soft. Either somebody had bribed the judges, or God had taken a personal interest in the matter.

“Lastly, mister de Winter, it is very clear to this court that you are guilty of being obsolete. Your skin is evidence enough of your crimes against God. I will personally add that I’ve never seen somebody stray this far, and that I personally fear for your soul.” The retributor scoffed. “Normally, as you are well aware, the punishment for straying from God’s path is death, to be carried out immediately.”

The retributor’s eyes widened as he felt what was about to come next. “No, you got to be kidding me.” He said out loud, before striding towards the judges. “Your honours, you can’t mean this! Surely you wouldn’t let an abomination like him walk free? He needs to be put down like the mad dog he is! I will do it right here, right now if you ask me. He is an affront to God!” The bulky man shouted at rather unimpressed looking judges above him.

“Mister Stark! May I remind you that you don’t have a voice in this court room.” The Regent Justice thundered. “You will hold your tongue, or you will be removed, now stand back and let the trial presume!” The retributor shut up and stepped back, his eyes aflame.

“Mister de Winter, due to the nature of your ordination this court understands that a heavy burden has been placed on your soul. Under section 9B of the book of ordinational law, you’ve been granted a forty-eight-hour reprieve. During this time, you must lift you must reclaim the status of a good man in service of the faith. If you fail mister Stark here will execute you. Do you understand this verdict?”

“I do.” Eli said.

“Excellent, then this court will reconvene in forty-eight hours to hopefully wave the charges.” The gavel hit the wooden plague and the judges stood.

“This is a fucking outrage! Haven’t you seen the markings on his skin? His veins are as black as his heart, he needs to be destroyed!” The retributor raged and shouted, but the judges didn’t even listen, let alone respond. Eli stood, his shackles ringing obnoxiously. With a shit eating grin he walked towards the retributor, who was panting heavily. “My new bracelets chafe a little, could you take them off?” The zealot turned around, his face screwed up in anger. As roughly as he could he undid Eli’s shackles. When he was freed Stark’s hand fell heavily on Eli’s shoulder. “Forty-eight hours, you filthy heretic. Forty-eight hours before I sever your head from your body.” The man stalked out of the room, leaving Eli behind.

There was only one place Eli could go to, one place that would have what he needed. The club.

⤊

Now.

With barrel of my pistol poking in his back I half drag, half walk East through the halls of the palace. Eventually I find what I’m looking for, a balcony. The two of us step outside, into the cold. There is nobody who will hear him out here, and even if they do it will take them too long to get here, giving me all the time I need to make a safe exit.

“When did all this become personal for you, mister de Winter?” East asks. His voice is arrogant and there is contempt in his eyes. He isn’t afraid, which means he has a trick up his sleeve. “It isn’t.” I say. “This is just another job, just not one I will regret later on.” East scoffs. “The hell it isn’t, ever since the Aksokov case you’ve been getting back at me. First with the Dice woman, then you attacked my business through the Silver Bells. Is this how your personal vendetta against me ends? With you rescuing a foreign monarch from a would-be assassin?” The way East says it monarch sounds like a curse.

I shrug. “Believe it or not your involvement in those other cases had little to nothing to do with me. Except for Dice, her death I orchestrated to get back at you.” East spits over the edge of the balcony. “Well, lets get it over with then.” He spreads his arms, inviting me to shoot. “You don’t seem terribly concerned for a man who is about to die.” East smiles smugly. “Live by the sword, die by the sword. Honestly getting shot isn’t the worst way to go, my employer probably had something much worse in store. Besides, I go out knowing that you’re fucked regardless what happens. There is no ending to this story where somebody doesn’t kill you. I will be avenged, of that I’m sure.”

I shake my head, he won’t get off this easy, I need answers. “Why are you doing this? Who are you working for? What do you or the syndicate have to gain by loaning fortunes to foreign nobles to keep fighting a war that can’t be won? It makes no sense, you won’t ever get that money back. Now you want to assassinate the prince who has come to surrender.” East smile increased in smugness. “Oh, this is rich, I regret that I won’t be there to see your face when you finally figure it out. You’ve been at the centre of things this whole time, yet you understand nothing. When you first appeared, I was concerned. I spent money, influence and political capital to find out who the fuck you were. When I found out you used to belong to Cabaneri Inc I thought I understood. I thought you were one of the other players, or at least a champion of one. But when I hired you, you didn’t know jack shit. I was stuck in this loop you see, trying to figure out who you were and how you could be in all the wrong places at the wrong times. Now it turns out, it is all just one big fucking coincidence. It is terribly ironic.”

I hit him in the face with the butt of my gun. “Answer the fucking questions!” I yell in his face. He just laughs. “Poor fucking Eli, doesn’t know shit about the game he is playing.” I lay a beating on him, like I’ve never done before. Over and over I hit him with the butt of my gun. When that doesn’t get any answers out of him I throw it aside and beat him up with my own fists. “People I know, people I care about are in danger, tell me what is going on!”

East spits out blood, but the smug smile is still fixed on his face. “How does it feel to let the devil out? It has been a while hasn’t it.” He pants at me. “I grew up in Victoria’s gutters. You think you’re hurting me? You’re not even getting close.” I hit him again and again, shouting at him to answer the questions. His eye has swollen shut, his lips are bloody pieces of flesh, but he’s still smiling. “I’ve seen a lot of guys like you over the years. Men who can barely keep the rage hidden inside contained. You all self-destruct, you will too.”

He’s not going to say anything. He knows it, I know it. There is not a single thing in the world that will make East talk. “If it isn’t money or loyalty that drives you, what is it?” I ask. There is a gleam in Smith’s good eye. “Fear.” He breathes the word, as if it is magical. “Not of a person, but of standing on the wrong side of history.” He reaches inside the pocket of his bloodstained suit. I’m about to hit him again when he reveals that the object he’s grasping for is a cigarette case. He leans on the balustrade of the balcony, using it to keep himself standing. He offers me a cigarette and I accept.

“Have you not seen it?” East asks. “Seen what? Say something useful, I’m not in the mood for you riddles and bullshit.” I respond. “The injustice in our country. The ordinations that are corrupting our society. At the bottom the obsolete are left to their own devices or hunted down and killed. Why? Because there aren’t enough jobs around to keep their feet on the path of God. Whose fault is that? The workers, who one day got up to find out that their factories were closed? Or the factory owners who were too incompetent to keep their own businesses running?”

I shrug. “So what, because some people get screwed it is okay to flood the streets with narcotics? Because that is what you’re doing, isn’t it?” East spits a red plume over the railing. “We had to get the money, and we needed to make the populace angry. Narcotics was an excellent way to achieve both.” I narrow my eyes. “What are you saying?” East smiles. “Have you ever wondered why we call ourselves the Syndicate?” He tilts his head. “No? A syndicate mister de Winter is a group of individuals with a common interest. For many of us that common interest is making money. I’m not a sentimental man mister de Winter, but even I can see that there is more to life than just making money. Some of us actually want to change things for the better.” He flicks the butt of the cigarette on the ground. “I might not be there when the time comes, but my legacy will see the nature of this country changed.”

Before I can stop him East throws himself over the balustrade. I dash forwards in an attempt to catch him, but his coat tails slip through my fingers. I watch as the man who holds all the answers I need falls for a short time, before hitting the streets below. The fall must instantly kill him as his body doesn’t move an inch. A few seconds later I hear a scream, followed by doors banging open. I quickly leave the balcony, putting my gun away. I should have seen a suicide attempt coming, yet I didn’t. I’m not used to interrogating my targets, it isn’t my job. East had answers, he knew what is going on and what was going to happen.

The Syndicate wants the crown prince dead, why? To keep selling weapons to Armes? No, it doesn’t make sense. The nobles would just use the money they loaned from the Syndicate earlier. Why loan the Armerian nobles all that money in the first place? They can’t pay it back, the war has pretty much impoverished them. What was all that horseshit about wanting to make the country a better place. A criminal syndicate with supposed good intentions, a war fought on foreign grounds, a nationwide revolution, how do they connect?

“Mister de Winter?” I’m pulled from my thoughts by a pretty woman. “Yes miss?” The woman smiles. “Romanov, Katharina Romanov.” Her accent sounds Russian, which means she’s most likely from one of the states within the Imperial Hegemony of Kryzan. “A pleasure.” I say cautiously. “You look like one of my countrymen, yet you sound like a born and bred Mercian. It is quite odd.” She approaches, running a finger along my cheek. “My uncle Boris, the Kryznian ambassador, he wants to have a word.” She turns around, clearly expecting me to follow. “I’m terribly sorry to disappoint the ambassador, but I have places I need to be.” I cautiously say. I don’t want to offend a foreign dignity, especially not one who is partially responsible for keeping the peace between the three biggest countries on the continent.

“That would be terribly unfortunate. My uncle Boris you see has some information he thinks you should have. Information about your former friend, Charles Kingsburg.” She takes another step, before seductively looking over her shoulder. “Another time perhaps.”

The cogs in my mind are turning at such a speed that smoke must be coming out of my ears. With East out of the way the prince should be safe for a while. Huginn and Muninn are probably a back up plan, they won’t strike openly during the party. That leaves me with some time, an hour, maybe two. Unless the discovery of East’s body will prompt an early end, in which case the prince will go to the hotel immediately. The question boils down to a single question. Can I trust Charles enough to pass up this information? I know the answer, it isn’t one I like.

“Lead the way.”

⤊

As the Queen of the South walks through the corridors of the palace, the assassin following like a meek lamb, she smiles. Always hedge your bets.