The nuisance was gone. Alter promptly shattered the glass into the trash can. Arwen looked at him.

"What?"

"You two should get along."

"That is not necessary."

"Alter, you and Nils are the next generation of Arsenian leaders."

Alter dismissed the idea. "I've never heard of a country having two Prime Ministers."

"Nils may not have the cunning, nor intelligence, to navigate politics successfully, but do not forget the opinions of the people, for the ballot decides the victor."

...

"Alter."

"I won't forget."

"Good." Arwen mulled over the sketches Nils left. "Was it not amusing, what I said?"

Alter knew what Arwen meant. Still, he chose to stay quiet because he did not know where or when this jocular spirit possessed Arwen.

The failed comedian finished his drink and dryly said, "Your silence speaks volumes." This man...

Alter sat in the chair across from him. "I did not know he could draw."

Arwen poured himself another glass, "We all have our secret hobbies."

"Even you?"

Arwen smiled. "Light espionage."

"I wouldn't call it that if you do it to your own country."

"Don't be so particular."

Alter shrugged and went to a bookshelf to take a binder disguised as a book.

"Are they there?" Arwen asked.

"Louis Mack is. Haven't got the other one's picture. I assume he isn't important."

"And Mack is?"

Alter slapped the pages with his hand, "Ten years we've been preparing this. I can't remember what half these people are in the Book for. If they are here, it means they committed an offense we at the time deemed fitting for their inclusion and future elimination."

Not all pictures had the mark of red, red for dead, because it was difficult to disappear from life the well known. Family members tend to ask questions and journalists have active imaginations that oftentimes are not far from the truth. As such, those from the underworld were the obvious and only targets of the reaper's scythe. Alter's frown deepened. The predecessors to Arsenian politicians must weep at the sight of criminals strolling these hallowed halls.

Arwen pushed a curtain aside. The sun had set and the street lights lit one by one. Nils walked down the steps of Parliament, a bounce in his step.

"What a coincidence," he murmured.

Alter shut the book. "Do you think he knows?"

The world exits the century of war into a century of uncertainty, and Arseny, in particular, emerges broken yet unscathed. Using the din and confusion Arwen seeks to effect his grand plans for country and party and set Arseny at the forefront of this new world.

We prepared for years to thoroughly clean the country in anticipation for future plans, and then, on the day we were to execute the plan, the smiling fool waltzes in with his ridiculous request as if he knew.

Alter never liked the buffoon, and after today, he had another reason to detest Nils.

"No," Arwen replied, turning, "This is a sign marking the path we walk as right."

Alter followed him to the empty space between the windows. "I thought you weren't superstitious."

"The world gives you instances where you think fate is at play. It makes you wonder if you're delusional-"

"So it's best not to wonder."

A phrase Alter heard so often he'd come to hate it. Arwen repeated it in private enough that Alter suspected it was his favorite expression. Arwen pressed a specific part of the wall and the floor beneath him disappeared. He plummeted. Alter half expected a crack and a groan of pain, but he knew the old man was too sturdy. He leaped down into a small room lined with weapons and uniforms used for clandestine operations.

The Prime Minister tossed a rifle to Alter. "Just like old times."

Alter caught it. "Just like old times."

Alter's black coat nipped his ankles as he walked atop the red tiled roofs in a quiet area where the well-off resided. A place where disturbances were rare and responses quick. The target believed this to be the safest shelter, and it was, for where better to store a corpse than in a coffin? A strong gust of wind buffeted him. The street lamps extinguished their light, plunging the world into its natural state.

The signal.

Alter marched past the rooftop edge into a narrow alley swelling with the stench of damp sickness. He landed in front of a rusty door hidden by wrinkled bags of garbage.

Locked.

He gripped the knob, dug his shoulder in and detached the door from its hinges as quietly as he could. A fire crackled in the empty storage room made of stone and mold.

Clink

A scaly neck rose up from the small brown bed by the fireplace. The dragon bared its fangs at the intruder. Judging by its unique moss covered scales, it was a species that inhabited swamplands. It couldn't be more than a few months old. The dragon must've cost the target a fortune on the black market. Alter knelt by the bed.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured, giving a hand for the snake-like dragon to curl around. Serpentitan Dracoaboa. A species born small but grows to devourer.

It hissed, splattering venomous spittle that sizzled on the floor, then slithered away to guard the door.

Ah.

Alter fixed his singed cuff. It was attached to its owner. He must try some other way to befriend the poor child. Alter's pupils glowed bronze and the dragon's eyes glowed the same. Its grey scales shivered; it made a half choking, half hissing sound, and then, the dragon bowed its head in veneration before Alter. He raised a hand and it pushed its head into his palm.

"Good boy."

What happened to your mother, your father?

Sadness engulfed him as he gazed into the child's eyes-windows to its lush waterlogged home. The war cost many dragons their lives, but it was only after the Progenitor of all Dragons passed away that many returned to the outskirts of Arseny, to their native habitats in the Wilds. Those too attached to their humans stayed, though they were few in number and gaining in age. Alter shook his head and stood. He could not delay his work any longer. Seeing the state the child was in gave him a new sense of urgency. He left the storage room and the dragon slipped out with him, treading carefully to avoid his boots. He passed through the kitchen and arrived in the lavish grand foyer glittering under the moon's light. Alter walked up the spiral staircase, gloved hands brushing the banister, and stood in front of the bedroom.

He glanced at the dragon. "There's no need for you to witness this."

Any enterprise, illegal ones included, have records stored somewhere.

It coiled and leaped into the air, twisting its body to stay afloat. Alter patted its red underbelly and it wrapped around his arm.

He smiled. "Very well."

The target stirred but didn't wake when Alter entered the room and hovered over him. Alter stroked the dragon's head. It landed on the man's stomach. That woke him up. He spoke incoherently, still swallowed by sleepy stupor. Then he saw Alter.

"No!"

He dove for something underneath his pillow. Alter held the gun up.

"You misplaced this into my hands."

"Alter Carlebach, what is this?"

The target tried to sound indignant and brave, but his eyes flicked everywhere looking for a solution to save his life.

"I-I do not know why you've visited me this late at night, trespassing in my home! Surely not for polite banter."

Perspiration stained his white nightwear. The man pretended not to know, praying Alter hadn't come for the reason he suspected.

Pitiful.

The dragon spat poison that narrowly missed the target, disintegrating his pillow instead. Fear strangled his scream.

Alter scooped the child up to soothe it, "I think it better if you leave. Return to your home."

It flicked its tongue out. Alter slid a glass pane aside.

"You know where it is."

Their eyes shined that same beautiful bronze and the dragon flew out the window.

The man wheezed. "You-You're not human! You're one of them! You, and Arwen, you've fooled us all!"

An unhealthy pallor crawled down his face and he scrambled back as Alter advanced. "Nader Eldhrimnir- We both know why I am here."

"I don't understand!"

Alter released the pistol. Eldhrimnir gasped.

"You're a resourceful man, Nader, hiding from us for so long, twenty-two years!"

Alter produced his own gun. He slid in a single bullet. "A decades-long war allowed you to funnel into your accounts extraordinary amounts of wealth. None of it acquired honorably."

Eldhrimnir tried to defend himself. Alter tore him from the bed and threw him onto the floor.

"We know."

"I'm a dead man then."

"You don't value your life, Nader?"

The target was confused.

"You still haven't understood why I'm here. I wonder why we thought you were worth keeping."

"Wait, wait. Wait!"

Alter cocked the gun, a smirk haunted his face. "Is it a crime to kill a corpse?"

Eldhrimnir screamed, "I have information on the others! Documents, trophies, everything!"

Alter lowered the weapon.

A simple man, a simple threat. How sad. To think someone like this caused us such headaches.. Alter almost felt ashamed.

He prodded the cowering man with his boot, "Lead the way."

They arrived at Eldhrimnir's study. The man couldn't stop rambling, boasting about the crucial parts he played in criminal activities, his close ties to fugitives, and most importantly, his ability to name dozens upon dozens of co-conspirators. He could act as a witness, a suggestion he was sure would save his life.

Alter humored him, "It is important to have witnesses. We live in a lawful society."

"Yes, yes! Witnesses, important, of course. Nobody can criticize the procedures of an investigation you lead. I've always admired the Carlebachs, not a stain of corruption for generations. Simply astounding!"

You must be joking. You know nothing of honesty.

Eldhrimnir struggled with the lock. "One moment, it is very heavy, I commissioned it to be made this way for security reasons, you must understand."

Alter shoved him aside and broke the lock, then he flung open the doors and tossed Eldhrimnir inside. Paintings stolen from museums and private collections lined the walls, diamonds, sapphire rings, and other gems were hoarded in a corner and encased in protective glass. A taxidermied moose and lion head mounted on wooden shields behind the desk greeted them with their cold dead eyed stares.

"I hunted those years before when I was a spry youth," Eldhrimnir said, noticing Alter's stare, "With that musket." He pointed at a rifle, bayonet attached, hanging in a frame next to a large cabinet full of antiques a collector would pay good money for.

"The safe," Alter growled, "Open it."

Eldhrimnir flinched and scurried away, "Yes, yes, right away."

His hands still shook as he spun the knobs on his black safe, but there was a demeanor of confidence about him as he increasingly became sure his life would be spared.

Alter quietly took the musket and examined its condition. He plucked a bullet out the metal wiring holding it in place in the frame.

A dry parchment smell wafted out the safe.

Eldhrminir grabbed a thick book, "These are all encoded. I am the only one with the key. Shall we begin moving all this to a secure location?" He heaved a couple onto the desk.

"No need."

Bang

Eldhrimnir's body slumped over, head cracked open, brain splattered across the polished oak table. Blood flowed out the wound staining the hand-woven rug. Alter put the musket back. He flipped through the files. Fraud, embezzlement, bribery, extortion. A treasure trove of evidence to be legally obtained.

Good.

He snatched a bundle of cash and a precious necklace. Then, he was out the house and up on the roof where Arwen waited. They watched the blue lights and wailing sirens race nearer.

Arwen beckoned with a hand. "The night is short and we have much to do."