Corbin tried to use his legs to lift the body, but it didn’t help him overmuch. Gatwar laughed at him as he fumbled with its arms, trying and failing to raise it up to a standing position. With a grunt Corbin let the body thump to the dusty ground. He walked away from the body and stared blankly at Gatwar.

Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. One day. Bastard. We’ll see. Won’t be laughing then. Bastard. Maybe one day... Bloody bastard thinks he can laugh at me.

Gatward’s laughter petered out as he stared at Corbin, confused.

QUICKLY, SMILE. THEY CAN’T DOUBT YOU!

Corbin smiled and laughed. “I’d like to see you try to lift him mate. He’s a fat ba- bastard, I’ll tell you that.”

Gatwar spat casually and cracked his knuckles before hauling the body over his shoulder. He did it as if it were a sack of feathers. “I think you are the fatty, no?” Gatwar laughed like a braying donkey and kicked at the small pick that they used to kill the man.

Corbin picked it up from the bloodied dust of the floor and followed Gatwar out of the hovel’s basement. They were in a dingy corner of the slums. Here nobody saw anything, and everyone was afraid, or loyal. Clay and brick lined narrow, winding passages wet with refuse. All of the doors and windows were either broken or shut tight for fear of thieves and the inevitable stench. Cobbled together roofs of wood and thatch gave little respite from the blazing sun.

“This way.” Gatwar led Corbin through the slum. The corpse bounced gently against Gatwar’s shoulder. Its head had a thin layer of stubble and was leaking its contents onto the ground with a steady drip. Thankfully, the open wound at its temple was not big enough for any brain to be visible.

He looked so calm before he died. Maybe it feels nice. NO! He looked bored almost, when I slammed the pick into his head. So STUPID LOOKING! Maybe the release of it felt- NO NO NO STOP THAT! SHUT UP!

Corbin chewed at the corner of his lip and looked away from the hanging corpse. His eyes leaped erratically around his surroundings. He could see a fat old woman peak carefully from behind a blind, and a child scurrying across the rooftops. A pigeon flew in the sky, a rat crawled under a door, the blood dripped from the corpse.

Why is the sun so bright today?

Gatwar turned into a large building complex. It was one of the many grotesque growths that tended to form around hubs of wealth in the Third Ring.

The place was houses and stores and offices built on top of other houses and stores and officers, and when there was no more space, one could guess. By the grace of the Mother and by the sheer will of thousands of people who relied upon each other to not be crushed to death as they slept or worked, things only rarely collapsed.

Gatwar carried the corpse up a rickety flight of stairs and into a dead-end hallway. He knocked on a door and after a few moments a bulky man wearing an apron opened it. His apron was covered in blood. The man took the body and closed the door without saying a word. As they left the fetid place Corbin saw a glimpse of the palace through the shoddy construction. It was an ever-present reminder that no matter how hard you tried, no matter what you did, you were nothing. That you were an ant at the feet of giants.

It's pretty though. I wonder if anyone is up there, watching. SURELY NOT.

Corbin was restless as he followed Gatwar back to the brothel. He could not stop thinking about Lord Hal and the letter that should have arrived by now.

Have they forgotten me? I have done everything they asked! LORD HAL WOULD NEVER FORGET YOU. YOU ARE IMPORTANT. Yes, I am. REMEMBER THE LAST LETTER?

Corbin nodded eagerly, happy to turn his mind to a better place. He recited the letter in his mind, every word etched into his memory like a brand had pressed it into his heart. A brand of pride, and love.

Reports received from you positive, maintain current activity.

Investigate the sultan, public opinion, corruption, political unrest, vulnerabilities.

Assist criminal underbelly, continue to increase power of criminal element, this will be vital.

You are one of our most valuable agents, your work will make you a hero when this is done.

Good luck soldier.

That had come three weeks ago, and he was supposed to get a letter every two weeks. He felt so alone. Was anybody thinking about him back home?

Of course. Doubt leads to… badness. And the other one. NEVER THE OTHER ONE, THEY WOULD NEVER TRUST YOU AGAIN.

Corbin swallowed and smiled privately.

“What are you smiling for?” Martulf stared at him as he took a seat behind his desk. Gatwar was gone.

“Nothing.” Corbin grinned and sat down, comfortable in Martulf’s small office. “The job is done. Captain Razan spilled the information about the new guard hires. If we raid the office at Chanters Way, we can get all their personal information and work from there. He didn’t want to talk about the sultan, but I can guess that he’s been told very little. The new sultan is an elusive fellow from what I’ve heard on the streets, his retainers are few and all tight lipped at that. The jury is still out on whether or not he is the real Jukman or just a pretender.”

Martulf held up a scarred finger and shuffled through his desk in search for parchment. His giant frame made the desk look small, but it wasn’t, it was a large desk. Martulf dipped a dirty quill into his ink pot and waved Corbin on to continue.

“If he is the real deal, well…” Corbin bit the underside of his lip nervously and looked around the small office. “If he’s not an imposter… we don’t stand much of a chance if our operations get in his way. So, it’s my recommendation that we don’t do that. We hit the other crime syndicates, hard and fast. As long as all the drama is kept out of the high streets and things are only hot for lowlifes like us, we won’t draw his attention by anything that we can control. And stuff tends to get quiet for the deer when all the wolves are off fighting each other, right?”

“Who’s the deer in this colourful scenario?” Martulf blinked slowly as he stared at Corbin uncomprehendingly.

“You know, the general public. Victims of muggings, nosy grannies, et cetera. From what we’ve seen so far this sultan seems like the type of bloke who’ll come down to the square and actually listen to the pleas of the poor. We don’t want to be made an example of, especially not when he’ll be looking to make one.”

“So, you want us to focus all our muscle on fighting the other crews? What about Chanters Way? And what makes you think we have the manpower or means to take over the whole bloody Ring?”

“I can slip in and out of Chanters Way without being caught, no undue attention. And with the info I get from there, we can turn half the bloody guards against them. Even the ones on enemy payroll. Things get in perspective real fast when your daughters doll gets its head chopped off when you don’t respond to our letters.” Corbin adopted a mockingly fearful expression. “The bastards these days will do anything! I don’t wanna find out what their second warning will be! Oooh my Cindy darling, you’re sleeping in daddies room-”

“Alright,” Martulf interrupted, “I get the picture.”

Corbin nodded enthusiastically. “So, should I get the gears turning boss?”

“Hmm.” Martulf rested his giant head on hands like a collection of obscene roots. He frowned a deeply ugly frown for a while before he looked back at Corbin. His grin was even uglier.

By all that is good, I need that letter. Perhaps they are just waiting for the right time…

Phara skipped along the garden path. Her father followed behind her. He gazed at his daughter lovingly and squinted as his pipe smoke billowed around his face.

“Phara darling, don’t run too far.” He shifted his walking cane under his arm as he increased his pace.

“Look daddy! All of the butterflies are different colours. Aren’t they so pretty?”

“Mhm.” He looked out onto the countryside as he waited for his daughter to finish playing with the insects. In the distance, he could see the city. How brilliant it was. The royal palace loomed above everything, exuding an irresistible sense of power, of dominion. He took a puff of his pipe.

“Oh no! Poor birdie.” Phara ran into the grass and flowers. The butterflies dispersed and fluttered away into the forest.

“Phara!”

She stopped a few steps away from the path and kneeled down, she leaned close to something on the ground. As he walked beside her he saw it. A white bird crawling with ants and maggots, its body black with rot beneath its feathers.

“Phara, don’t touch it.”

She cried quietly as she stepped away from the dead animal. “Can you save it daddy?”

“No darling.” He crouched down and looked at the animal’s leg curiously. A small piece of paper was tied around it with string. He took the paper away and unfurled it. The man’s face grew pale as he read it.

The time for action has come

Prepare the city, weaken the government through incitement of mass violence

Our army is imminent

Good luck soldier

“Urgent you say?” Imani dried her hair with a towel in front of the sultan’s bedroom. “How urgent?”

The messenger shifted his balance uncomfortably. “I am not at liberty to say, my lady. I can assure you it is of utmost urgency. Please, my lady.”

Imani shrugged and opened the door. Jukman was standing at the balcony, looking out at his city under moonlight. He didn’t turn as the messenger walked up to him and whispered in his ear, or after the messenger had walked from the room respectfully after seeing he would not respond.

“Come, darling. What is it?” Imani hugged him from behind and kissed his ear gently. She whispered, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Jukman laughed. “I wonder what he’s thinking out there.” He nodded to the city. “Poor Corbin. If there ever was a man in the dark, it would be him. “

“Who’s Corbin?”

Jukman turned to Imani and kissed her forehead. “Never mind him.” Jukman stood up and walked back into the room, closing the door to the balcony behind him. “And the messenger didn’t say anything important, just that they found a letter from the north.”