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Betrayal

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I woke up, but kept my eyes closed. I drew in a large breath, and could feel Larissa's arm over my chest. For a moment, all was tranquil, but then I noticed the throbbing pain in my head and remembered everything that had occurred the day before, and in an instant I was back, my thoughts burdened, and my stomach twisting with discomfort. I had to take my pills. I let out a long, heavy breath as I gently placed my arm over Larissa's, stroking it a few times before I finally forced myself to sit up, pushing myself further up the bead so that I was leaning against the wooden headboard. Larissa drew in a breath and turned slowly, dragging the sheets along with her. I felt mildly bad for waking her up.

In a depressed, burdened mood, and already not the type to enjoy morning conversation, or frankly any form of extra thought or exertion while I was still groggy and tired, I threw my legs over the bed, sat hunched over for a few moments, before finally forcing myself to rise and make my way over to the sitting room. I sort of had to use the restroom, but there was not one in the apartment – that meant that there was probably a communal one at the end of the hall or on the first floor somewhere. Whatever, I didn't need to use it that badly.

I looked around in a daze: white light streamed in through the narrow window on the wall opposite the entrance door. I then realized that all of my clothes were in the other room, so I turned and lumbered back inside, finding my underwear from the day before and putting it on again, followed by my shirt and pants – I had even taken off my socks at some point during the night, which I found lying on the floor on the other side of the bed. Now fully dressed, I finally decided to acknowledge Larissa, who was sitting on the side of the bed, the blankets drawn around her for warmth, her tail extended across the whole of the bed horizontally and hanging off the other side a little. She, too, looked extremely tired.

“Good morning," was all I could manage to mutter. “Is there any food?" She nodded.

“Some bread, in the kitchen," she stated, and I made my way there, opening one of the cabinets hanging off the wall and finding half a loaf of bread on a plain white plate inside. I took it out and set it on the wooden counter just under the cabinets – there was a knife already on the plate, and I severed a few large slices from the narrow loaf of what looked to be pretzel bread, helping myself greedily to one, having not eaten almost any proper meal the day before. I had already finished every slice when Larissa, now dressed in a white button-down shirt with thin blue, vertical stripes and a grey vest and pants, walked into the doorway and stood there, gazing at me with a look of unease.

“What happened last night," she asked. Instinctively, I ran a hand gently along my head: the bandage was dry, yet the cut beneath it was still was sensitive.

“Uh, they thought I was trying to betray them," I replied with honesty. I gently removed the bandage, wincing as I did so.

“What are you doing?"

“I can't stand out," I replied, tossing the bandage in a small metal waste bin and gingerly feeling the cut along my head – it was long, but not too deep, mostly hidden by my hairline. I looked back to Larissa: she was gazing at me with a nervous expression.

“What do you mean," she asked, evidently concerned. I didn't answer her. “To- Adrik," she corrected herself. "Are you worried about them seeing you?" I didn't answer at first, instead gazing silently at the window, my hands clenched in loose fists at my sides.

“It's not just them I'm worried about," I admitted, immediately regretting it and not wanting to explain myself.

“Sorry?"

“Look," I began, taking a step towards her so that I was awkwardly standing in the center of the room. “I'm sorry, there's just so many-"

“Stop apologizing for everything," she interjected in almost a snap, clearly frustrated with me. I immediately stopped talking. "What's going on?" She finally asked, with concern in her voice. I sighed, walking past her, through the doorway to the window, gazing outside at the wooden buildings opposite us, the street not visible below due to the width of the lower floor, which extended further into the road than the this one did. Judging by the lighting, it was still relatively early in the morning, with a white, overcast sky. I sighed. I could feel Larissa staring at me My mind for the day was made up, more or less, albeit I lacked any sort of plan. But could I really drag Larissa into all of this? I had known Vage for a week and he nearly killed me. She had known him for two days…No, I couldn't drag her into it, at least not all the way.

“The plan was to infiltrate Lester and kill the duke," I finally stated with as much frankness as I could muster. I turned around, expecting to see Larissa with some sort of horrified gaze, but instead I was only met with a concerned look of what I could only guess was empathy. “Obviously I'm not going to do that," I continued as plainly as possible. “The political consequences would be very extreme." The pain from my beating the other day was beginning to resurge, and my stomach cramped. I paced over to the couch, bending over and picking up my black overcoat, grabbing my bottle of pills from the pocket and unscrewing it to toss one of the little tablets into my mouth. “I need more painkillers," I muttered. Larissa rushed back into her room, returning with two more pills. I took those, as well, coughing after swallowing them, forcing my head to throb with pain, before continuing.

“I need to stop what's about to happen," I stated finally, trying my hardest to look her in the eyes, though admittedly it was difficult; yet, she looked so understanding, so forgiving, as if I could have committed any wrong and she still would have understood that anyone else would have done the same thing under the circumstances. “I don't know how, but I have to." Her reply was even more heartwarming.

“Let me help you," was all she said simply. I could tell by her expression that she was serious. That was it – she wanted to help. I had just told her that I was planning on murdering the duke, that I was nearly killed the previous night, and that I was going into who-knew-what without any sort of plan that she was aware of…And she was ready to go along with it.

“No," I shook my head.

“You helped me," she stated, presumably referring to the money I had given her, I guessed.

“But that was different," I swallowed. “That was money, this is literally a life-or-death situation."

“So was mine." We were silent for a few moments,

“Larissa, I can't in good conscious let you participate in any of this," I sighed. “Besides, I'm part of the reason we're here in the first place," I said in reference to my little murder squad. Part of me wondered why I even felt the need to correct things. I could just stay there, in that apartment, with Larissa, and not do anything all day – I had the perfect excuse, with my aching (though minor) head wound. I considered the possibility, and wanted it so badly that for an instant it seemed like the only legitimate course of action. But I quickly talked myself out of it, and sighed. I was going through with what I intended to do today. But now that meant I had to send Larissa to do something, otherwise she might follow me.

“You should have told my brother about this," she stated suddenly.

“What?"

“He's close with Kimberland, he could have done something." I was silent, and frankly suddenly quite mad at myself for not capitalizing on that opportunity the previous night while he had still been there, even if he had treated Larissa rudely. “It's fine, you were injured," she assured as if sensing my regret. I sighed. “Are you really going to try and dissuade them from this?" She said, referring to my former companions.

“Listen," I began, as I walked up to her, wanting to grab her upper arms or shoulder gently, but, feeling embarrassed, instead merely standing awkwardly at an uncomfortably-close range. She just looked back at me with kind, sad eyes. “I know these people – I can talk them out of it," I lied. I was convinced that it was far too late for that course of action anymore. I really had absolutely no idea what I would do.

“Is that your plan, then?" She didn't seem to be expressing doubt with that question – she seemed genuinely curious.

“I'm not entirely sure what I'll do," I admitted. “But I won't have enough time to cover everything. Please: find a police station, inform them that you have it on good word that the duke's life is in danger today. Don't say anything that might make it sound like you're implicated in any of this, just..." I trailed off. What was I even doing? I had no idea what I would do, but I had to start somewhere, I supposed.

“Really, you think they'll believe that?"

“It's an important day, they're probably on high alert," I shrugged. “Either way, it can't hurt." I said this while already pretty sure that nothing would come of it. Some silence followed.

“What about you," Larissa asked quietly, to my relief, evidently content with her given task. I wasn't sure what to say to that.

“I'll think of something," I replied, turning briefly and then back again, as if I thought I had forgotten some object only to realize that it was already in my pocket as soon as I had turned to get it.

“That's not what I mean," Larissa corrected. I knew exactly what she meant. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact with her. “Will you die," she finally asked, looking at me with a slight sense of fear. I kept my gaze fixed, staring at her with an expression that I felt only offered some sense of my desire to simply remain there in that room. I stepped forward and hugger her – she returned the gesture. I felt her draw in a large breath as I held her tightly, our heads resting on each other's shoulders.

“I don't know," I finally replied truthfully. “I don't plan on it." We stayed that way for a few moments longer before I finally pulled away, my hands still on her shoulders and hers still on mine as I tried to offer the most warmhearted yet reassuring look that I could. I smiled a little, and she returned it with a worrisome gaze. “I've made it this far," I shrugged with a bit of light humor, and we hugged one another again, this time more-tightly and passionately, and I could feel her clutching the back of my coat in her hands, as if she were worried that I would be torn away. Suddenly, as if sensing that she was overstepping some boundary, she stepped back. I smiled again, and turned to leave.

“I'll see you soon," I nodded, fully believing it even as my brain reminded me that there was no guarantee that that would be the case. I wanted to tell her not to follow me, but I trusted her, and I didn't want to give the impression that she would never see me again – I fully intended to take care of what I had to do as quickly and as smoothly as possible. I opened the door and closed it without looking back. Walking down the hallway, trying to shake myself into a new state of mind, I couldn't help but linger on what had just occurred a little longer. I stopped, and turned, looking back down the hallway at her door...I could just walk back there right now, and that would be it...But I sighed, and pressed onward, shoving my hands into my pockets.

My arm pressed something against my ribs – my silver pistol. Good: I would probably need it. I thanked myself for having the foresight to transfer the weapon from my old coat to my current one as I found the stairs and made my way down, a serious and down-to-business sort of mood fueled by the reality of what I was about to attempt having replacing my earlier warmheartedness. I was on a mission, now, and there was nothing that would get in my way. The painkillers were doing their work – my headache was beginning to fade, and the absence of pain in my knee allowed me to walk without a limp.

After finding the restroom, I continued out onto the street. It was relatively crowded outside – just the standard business of a regular day. It occurred to me that the National Scientific Convention probably wasn't the most-attended event that occurred every year in Oslost. In fact, given the recent election that had just passed, I wouldn't have been surprised if most people simply wanted a break from the constant state formalities and events. Thus, the majority of those walking along the streets merely seemed to be going about their day-to-day business, not caring or perhaps not even aware of the events planned at the capitol for that day. Good – that should make my job of finding the others easier.

But what would I do when I found them? They had, after all, tried to brutally murder me – and I was not the type of idiot to believe that Vage would spare my life again should we encounter one another. Martin had seemed indifferent at best as Novka instigated my attempted murder, which I was still very-much reeling from…But I had a chance with Forticay. I thought back to his expression when Novka was interrogating me: nervous and confused. Given his by-this-point obvious mild feelings for me, I imagined that he had tried to defend me as soon as I was chased out of the room, speaking up, awkwardly, before being shouted down by Novka, and quieting with an embarrassed look. Perhaps they had tried to talk him out of any allegiance or sympathy with me. But, either way, if I was to stop this, I figured that I had to find Forticay somehow – he was the only one who I could convince to do anything.

The day was bright – cold, but not as freezing as the previous night had been – in fact, if the sun came out, it may have even been tolerable to walk about without a coat. What time was it, anyway? I started to worry – I had assumed that it was still relatively early in the morning, but looking around, and remembering that the days were shorter, I began to fear that it may be approaching the afternoon. I was still by the university, and most of the people walking around me were young students, carrying full leather bags and cases stuffed with books. I spotted one woman walking down the center of the street in my direction, a brown, heavy-looking leather satchel weighing down on her shoulder as she gripped it with both hands. She had long dark hair under a wide-brimmed hat that matched her long, unbuttoned dark overcoat.There was a pocket watch chain dangling from her vest: I took a step towards her as she approached and stopped her.

“Excuse me," I began. “Do you know what time it is?"

“Almost ten," she replied immediately without checking her watch – she must have been on the way to a regularly-scheduled class. I thanked her and went on my way, but, suddenly, a thought occurred to me.

“Hang on," I shouted after her. She stopped again, turning around with a mildly-confused look.

“Your hat – I'll pay you twenty salir for it." She scoffed with a smile, and turned around. “I'm serious," I stated as I pulled some of the paper money from my pocket. This time when she turned around, she seemed to contemplate what her next move would be.

“Your loss," she shrugged as she walked back up to me, taking the money and handing me the hat. “Enjoy your morning." She walked off, presumably to class, where I was sure she would tell her friends that some random weirdo had purchased her hat off her for four times what it was actually worth. I placed the black, wide-brimmed fedora upon my head, finding that it fit me surprisingly well. I had realized that I needed to blend in as much as possible – if Novka or any of the others spotted me from any distance, they would probably immediately withdraw, and try whatever secondary plans they had developed the previous night. No doubt that, between them, they had figured out several ways to kill the duke – it really wasn't quite difficult; he was simply a fragile, flesh-and-bone person like everybody else, after all. The real trick was not getting caught after killing him.

I walked on, lowering the brim as far over my face as I could while still allowing myself to see. I felt a sharp jab of pain as it rubbed against my cut, cringing as I gingerly adjusted the piece of headwear, turning it to the side slightly. As I walked on, I grew more and more agitated. It occurred to me that I still didn't really have any sort of genuine plan, aside from “find Forticay…" And then what? Who knew if he would even listen to me, and what could he do to stop the others, anyway?...A thought occurred to me: Forticay had mentioned the previous day, in the bar in Lester Square, that all efforts at carrying out our objective would be abandoned if two people were lost. That would reasonably present enough of a threat to the security and anonymity of everybody else to justify calling everything off.

A small feeling of relief briefly washed over me: I now had a plan. I was the first person to be eliminated. I had no reason to assume that their precautionary measures had been changed in any way. It didn't matter that I had been accused of treachery, and had basically defected…At this point, I was a potential threat to their mission. Sure, only Vage knew that I was still alive (I highly doubted that if he had informed the others that he let me live I would still be walking the streets at the current moment), but I was still one missing member from the party, who initially had formed the central pillar of their assassination plan. Now all I had to do was convince one more of them to hop off of that ludicrous scheme and that would be all.

All I had to do now was find Forticay. I had pushed him to something in that bar: the entire walk back he seemed confused, and mildly frightened. I suddenly felt confident that he would trust me, like I had asked him to. Forticay wasn't some murderous psychopath – he had always stood out among us like some odd anomaly, his noble-upbringing and deep fascination with history not rendering him at all suited to his surroundings. I didn't know why I was only now just admitting this to myself, but Forticay was honestly just a socially-awkward, confused young man who had run away from his parents. He was a kind and intelligent person, and by no means a cold-hearted being capable of murder like the rest of us. In fact, judging by all of my interactions with him, I doubted he had ever really harmed anybody in his life…What the hell was he even doing here? Probably the same reason I was here: just got lucky on a few jobs where whatever he was hired for never ended up being an issue, so as a result, he looked like a complete professional.

So where would I find him? I suddenly recalled hearing at some point that Forticay was the second-best shot in the group (aside from me, as everyone thought), though I couldn't remember who had said that or where I heard it, or even if I were making it up entirely. Would they make him the sniper? No, not after I had defected, or at least they would not have him shoot from the same place. Even if she thought I was dead, knowing Novka, she would never take the risk. For a brief moment I thought that, if Forticay was put up to the task of the assassination itself, he may simply not even do it. But that was merely if he was the one who ultimately was supposed to kill Kimberland. Not to mention that he was remarkably socially-awkward and the youngest member of the group, which rendered him a bit susceptible to pressure from everyone else. I couldn't rely simply on the hope that Forticay would fail to carry out his task if he was the one chosen to kill the duke.

My mind suddenly began jumping forward, and I started wondering what would happen if I failed. Would Oslost really be pulled into the war with the ensuing political shift, dragging the entire North-East Alliance with it? It seemed too far-fetched to really happen, as if I was merely overthinking an unlikely scenario out of hundreds, fixating on it to the point of absurdity. But there was also the other argument: that all of the consequences of the duke's murder were clearly traceable and, especially given the current legislation under debate to join the war, already in motion. I thought again of the horrors I had experienced; I thought of Larissa…I shuddered. I thought again of Ravnick's little paleontology project – perhaps it really would end the war. Not immediately, obviously, but maybe over some extended period of time. The bottom line was that there was no amount of counter-convincing I could do to dissuade myself from the fact that I had to save the duke, a man I had only ever seen once in my life and had never formally met.

I pushed onward, making my way in the general direction of the Grand Palace, not yet on high alert, as I was still quite a few blocks away. I again considered the very-likely possibility that I would fail, and suddenly wondered if this was the last time one could witness life in Lester before the dark times arrived. I looked around, suddenly hyper-aware of all of my surroundings: two wolves conversed in the doorway of a bakery, one of them standing just outside it, leaning his arm on the doorframe. They both seemed to be heavily invested in their conversation, talking over each other as they laughed. A woman riding a bicycle slowly rolled along in my direction, passing me just before a man who was presumably running late for work jogged past, holding his hat to his head against the breeze that his running forced upon him, his long brown overcoat gliding just above the ground behind him. A woman led her son through the streets by the hand; a pudgy man with a cigar sat on a bench reading the newspaper; an unkempt worker with thick beard stubble in a grey cap and trench coat walked devotedly down the street with an iron bucket filled with what looked like coal before he turned through the doorway of some business or another…Life was calm, normal: the marks of a society unburdened by war. No one knew that their entire lives, livelihoods, and futures were currently in the balance. I felt like somebody who had traveled back in time; who had been born into the horrible future that was to come, and now existed awkwardly in this tranquil past, knowing what was coming.

As I made my way further towards the center of the city, the buildings became even taller, and the streets grew more crowded. Contrary to the relaxing, morning-stroll atmosphere of the areas around the student village, here, life was already bustling, and the noise and conversations and shouting and rolling of carriage wheels over cobblestone and all of the other sounds blended into one chaotic white noise. I began to become still more alert, looking around and keeping myself extremely aware of my surroundings.

I finally entered the square, and to both my dismay and hope, I saw that it was crawling with guards. It was significantly more-populated than the day before – though there still was plenty of room for more to gather, as the duke's speech was not for another hour and a half or more. The cobalt uniforms and peaked caps of guards and patrol officers bobbed among the sea of black and grey like lifesavers on the water. They stood pacing around, conversing with one another, strolling with metal mugs of coffee or tea, presumably…Every expression upon their many faces and the same bolt-action rifles slung over every shoulder. I cautiously walked along the edge of the square, searching for a flash of yellow, trying to comb through the crowd and locate Forticay, not wanting to make myself too conspicuous at the same time and staying near the edge of the crowd. Halfway across the square, however, I soon began to second-guess myself: perhaps it would be better for me to immerse myself in the growing mass of people in the crowd. But before I could come to any conclusive decision, I saw something that altered my course completely.

A glimpse of blue appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned, searching the thinner crowds along the edge of the square until I spotted Ravnick, in a black suit and top hat with a brown overcoat. He was strolling down the road that ran directly along the Grand Palace, one hand in his pocket and an umbrella tucked under his other arm, maintaining a calm but steady pace, clearly headed for somewhere but in no significant hurry, his tail swaying casually behind him. I quickened my step, trying to intercept him as I reformatted my plan entirely. Seeing that he would outpace me, and not wanting to lose him around the corner, I accelerated to a jog. At the risk of drawing attention, I shouted out.

“Ravnick!" He didn't hear me, and disappeared around the corner. Several heads turned my way for a brief moment but no one seemed to think anything of it. I had to be more careful. By the time I had made it to the end of the building and jogged onto the perpendicular street, I had lost him. I looked around frantically, trying to find him amidst the bustling of people in the same dressed-up attire and simple colors. I finally caught another glimpse of light blue and saw him conversing with a handful of guards who stood before a medium-sized, pointed archway between two buildings – clearly an entrance to some sort of government establishment. He said something and one of the guards nodded, stepping aside as Ravnick removed his hat respectfully and strode through the archway. I walked swiftly up to the four or five guards who stood there around the entrance, talking; one of them reared his head back with laughter at his comrade's joke. I slowed my pace as I approached, and figured that I would simply try to walk right through as if I belonged there, but one of the guards – a tall fox – immediately stepped in my way.

“Hang on, now, you don't need be in there," she stated in a calm but firm tone. She had a serious face and whiskers that extended from her snout surprisingly far in both directions, fiery eyes rendered her complexion all the more serious. I looked past her, to Ravnick, who was strolling down the hallway, briefly greeting another gentleman walking in the other direction with a tip of the hat, his long tail waiving in large motions as he walked.

“Please, just for a moment," I urged, trying to make it sound like it was all some big misunderstanding. “I know that man," I pointed, and then, giving up, shouted his name again. “Ravnick!"

“Sir, please," the guard urged, putting a paw-like hand up for me to step back, but I saw Ravnick turn. I made eye contact with him for an instant before the guard stepped in my line of vision actually started pushing me back by the shoulder.

“You're not getting in there," she stated, more firmly this time. By now, the other guards and even some people on the street had become slightly interested, quieting their conversations and starting to stare with curiosity. I jerked away and kept my gaze fixed on Ravnick. My heart sank as I saw that he had already turned around, continuing to walk down the hallway. But, suddenly, he stopped, frozen in his tracks, evidently conflicted. He turned his head, looking back at me, and then seemed to sigh before finally walking back down the corridor in my direction. I was overwhelmed with relief.

“Don't worry, officers," Ravnick stated calmly as he approached. The woman stepped back from me and turned to Ravnick, eyeing him with mild suspicion. “This man is with me." He took me by the hand and led me past the guards before they could object, the latter simply resuming their former posture and conversations without a word. I shook free of Ravnick's grasp as we walked at a swift yet steady pace. Almost immediately, a courtyard emerged on our right: a little garden, all its plants gone dormant, separated from us by several square stone columns, connected by round arches that held the left side of the roof up, allowing the outdoor light to sweep through the otherwise-dim hallway. “What is it that you want?" Ravnick turned, pressing himself against the wall and pulling me towards him with a mistrustful gaze.

“There's something urgent I have to tell you," I began, steadily but with emphasis – I didn't want to spill everything all at once or else he might panic, and I wasn't sure what consequences that could have. At the very least I hoped to get out of there without being arrested. Besides, he was clearly already stern and mistrustful of me.

“Then speak: what is it? I only let you in here because I have you to thank for getting my sister to Lester safely." I frankly thought that he jumped to some rather flattering conclusions that were not entirely truthful, but I didn't correct him.

“Listen, it's about the duke," I urged. Somebody walked past us in the other direction, their footsteps echoing down the corridor, but they didn't seem to pay us any attention in the slightest. Suddenly, Ravnick's face seemed to flash with worry. He turned to the guards further down at the end of the hallway, silhouetted against the white light from outside.

“Do you know how much trouble I could get in for this?" He stated with concern without breaking his gaze from the end of the corridor.

“Please just listen," I urged. “I know it sounds crazy but this is extremely serious." He sighed, turning back to me. “The duke's life is in danger," I finally stated, taking a large risk by just jumping to the point. But to my surprise, Ravnick was only mildly taken aback; in fact, he was more confused than shocked or surprised.

“Well, obviously," he retorted in a hushed whisper. “With the mounting political tensions, restrictions are tight and security's already been placed on high alert." He drew back the side of his overcoat with a swift motion of his clawed hand. I looked down and saw the shining silver handle of a pistol stuck behind his belt. My mind flashed with questions and theories. I had known Ravnick for only a day, but he looked odd with a firearm – did he even know how to use it? “Believe me, we are more than prepared for the danger that's presenting itself." He turned to walk on, but I stopped him, standing in front of him so that he could not continue.

“Please just listen."

“Please move," he stated as he gently tried to push me to the side with his umbrella. In response, I grabbed him by the collar of his overcoat and shoved him back against the wall as gently as I could, glancing around to make sure that nobody had seen it. Fright suddenly flashed across his face, and he glanced at the guards again.

“Please," I urged, and he turned back to me, uneasy. “You don't understand – I know the people who are coming to kill the duke, today. I was just with them yesterday." I let him go and stepped back, but he didn't run, instead seeming to be frozen in place. His tail was curled loosely around his legs and he swallowed, appearing fearful, turning again in the direction of the guards. “Ravnick, please," I urged, trying to adopt as concerned and helpless an expression as possible to garner as much sympathy from him as I could. He glanced at me briefly before turning to the guards again, his mouth open slightly, clearly on the verge of to shouting for their attention, but then he looked back to me. He glanced down the hallway one more time before seeming to recompose himself and address me again, to my great relief.

“And what do you know of it?" He finally snapped, followed by a nervous glance at a man swinging his umbrella back and forth as he walked by, giving us a puzzled look.

“I don't know the plan," I admitted, still nearly pressed against Ravnick along the wall. “But I know what these people look like and I know that they are planning to kill him today. I need to see the duke." For a moment, Ravnick's face flashed with a mix of surprise and scorn as if he were shocked that I would ever dare make such a request, but it quickly faded away and he looked nervously down the hallway again. He shook his head in short, gentle motions and turned to me.

“There are a lot of rules that I'd be braking to take you to him," he stated. “Especially now that you've admitted that you're associated with plotting assassins."

“I'm not a part of that, I swear," I urged.

“I can imagine," he stated nervously.

“What?" I supposed I had wanted to hear that but it was still unexpected. He opened his mouth and looked off to the side, as if trying to gather the words that he wanted to say.

“Based…On…" He began, trying to articulate himself. “…What I know about you," he finally stated. “I don't think you'd be the type of person to do something like that." I still wasn't sure why he seemed to trusting suddenly – well, to be clear, he didn't seem at all trusting, more so reluctant, but it was still better than I had hoped for. He must have sensed my confusion, because he added, “My sister is a phenomenal judge of character."

“Ok, so you'll let me see him?" Ravnick closed his mouth and breathed heavily through his two rounded nostrils at the end of his snout. He looked around as if he didn't know what to say next.

“Why do you need so see him," he finally asked. “Just tell me what it is, and I'll get it to him immediately if I have to." I sighed.

“I can't trust that something won't happen," I responded, which was true, but I was more so trying to ensure that I was able to stick around for as long as possible to see this whole thing through.

“Nothing will happen – there are probably a thousand people who want to kill the duke out there in that crowd. I told you that we're prepared for anything that could occur," he stated matter-of-factly, yet still in a somewhat stern tone, most likely simply trying to get me out of his hair.

“No, your not," I retorted firmly. He let out another stressed exhale, glancing off to the side again in contemplation. A look of somebody who knows that their morning has been ruined was on his face, as if to ask, “why me, why today?" “Send me away if you want but only I know what we're up against," I finally ended. For a few moments, all was silent, and I had no doubt in my mind that in a few seconds I would be back on the street and at square one as far as my plan was concerned. Who knew: perhaps nothing would come of the assassination plan at all and things were already too messed up to go any further, but I still wouldn't be calm until I had seen it collapse for myself. Ravnick swallowed, still looking as if he did not wish to indulge me anymore, but he pushed through his second-thoughts and continued. “Maybe Kimberland is bloody lucky that I trust you," he finally muttered, before stepping away from the wall and continuing on down the hallway.

“So we're going to see him?" I confirmed as I strode by his side as casually as I could.

“Yes," was all that Ravnick said in affirmation. He was walking just as he had been before, with one hand in his pocket and his umbrella under the other arm, its pointy metal end jetting out behind him. He was looking straight ahead, now striding with an unwavering, devoted, intimidating gaze. We paced swiftly down the corridor, being cast into shadow every time we passed behind one of those square columns. A man pacing down the hallway in the other direction with a brown suit and billycock hat smiled as he approached.

“Ravnick, good morning," he greeted with a wide grin under his black moustache.

“Not now, Ames," Ravnick stated in a depressed tone as he waved him away, but the man took a step in front of him, forcing Ravnick to stop. He gave the man an annoyed glare.

“Actually, this is rather quite serious," he stated, his face taking on a much-more sober expression. Ravnick glanced at me, and sighed.

“Well what is it?"

“The office: it's been meddled with," the man stated.

“What?"

“Someone's been poking around in there," he stated. “Not sure who, and not sure when, but it was likely early this morning, from what we can tell." Ravnick turned to me, giving me a puzzled look. I merely shrugged. Was this us, or was somebody else trying to interfere in this who I wasn't aware of?

“Is it very serious?"

“No, not very much," the man replied with a shrug. “Nothing missing, at least. But someone was definitely meddling around in there." Ravnick glanced away for a moment, distracted in thought.

“I'm afraid it'll have to wait until later: I have some business to attend to," he stated, and we strode on, leaving his companion behind us. “You know anything about that?" He turned to me with a whisper. We had left the courtyard behind us and the square columns had been filled in completely with wall, the long stone hallway now dimly illuminated by gas lighting.

“I really don't," I replied. “Though I wouldn't be surprised if they had something to do with it."

“My gosh," Ravnick muttered in what I interpreted as disbelief as he pushed through a polished wooden door and we walked into a large stairwell. He did not miss a beat as he climbed the stone stairs, outpacing me as I tried to catch up behind him. “All of these crazy things right around the election," he continued muttering, evidently displeased with his current situation. “And then you and my sister show up out of nowhere and now this. I'm sick of this whole fucking mess." I said nothing, merely glad that he was still leading me (hopefully) to the duke and not wanting to interject with anything that might possibly change his mind.

We reached the next floor and Ravnick strode across the wide platform to another polished wooden door, this one with several geometric patterns and carvings of squares etched onto its surface. He pushed through it, me following, shifting his umbrella to his other arm and strolling onwards. I had honestly expected to emerge into a bright, bustling corridor, full of clerks and officials moving every which way throughout the government bureaucracy; yet, instead, I was met with another stone corridor, this one almost more dim than the hallway by the courtyard. The only illumination came from gas lamps that were bolted to the walls, their faint yellow glow radiating warm, dim light. The whole place smelled of must and age. I was about to ask if Ravnick knew where he was going, but he didn't seem to think anything was off, merely walking down the corridor like normal.

He turned, shrugging with a blank expression on his face, as if asking why I was not following him. I came back to my senses and followed him down the hallway. We paced a few moments longer before he finally paused in front of a large, wooden door with an iron handle and a bolt that was unlatched. The boards were long and sturdy, and clearly old – darkened and warped with age. Ravnick pulled open the door, and I peered inside, into nothing but darkness.

“Hang on, let me grab a light," Ravnick muttered as he fumbled into his coat for what I presumed was a lighter for a lantern or something. I stood beside him as I looked back down the hallway through which we had come. It was oddly empty, and dark, and I really didn't have any idea why...Oh shit.

The realization hit me just before I felt a hard shove on my back as Ravnick pushed me into the room. I stumbled forward, and when I realized that the ground under my feet was not level my body shot with adrenaline. I tumbled down what turned out to be a flight of wooden stairs, hitting my back pretty hard before falling onto my stomach, my forehead slamming right onto the edge of one of the steps exactly where, as luck would have it, my wound was. I landed on the cold stones at the base of the stairs on with a thud, my back to the floor, letting out something between a squeak and a subdued sigh, the pain in my head so great that I could barely let out my breath. Shortly after I had landed, still too shocked to do anything, Ravnick called out.

“Are you ok?" He asked with clear concern – obviously his intention had not been to kill me. “Tovef?"

“Ah-ha!" I let out a yelp as I turned onto my side, holding a strained hand just above the sound on my head. I was loosing the fight not to cry, and tears began to stream down my face. I had been hurt before, of course – heck, I had been shot. But this was just the type of pain that impacted in the perfect way, and came so unexpectedly, that I couldn't help myself.

“Tovef, are you all right?" Ravnick called again. For a few seconds I managed to fix my gaze and saw Ravnick silhouetted at the top of the stairs through watery eyes.

“You son of bitch, holy fuck," I shouted as I shut my eyes again.

“Settle down, now – no one can hear you from in here," Ravnick replied much more calmly, apparently having now judged that if I was ok enough to curse him out then I was in no threat of death. I was still groaning on agony when he continued. “I'm sorry, Tovef, I would like to believe you, and I truly am grateful to you, but I cannot risk anything happening on a day like today.

“Raaaav-nnnik!" I shouted through the pain, clutching my head hard with my hand – it was wet and warm.

“When all of this is over, I'll come back for you, I promise," he stated calmly but firmly. I could barely register anything he was saying. I let out another loud moan – frankly an anguished scream – and imagined Ravnick standing at the top of the stairs with a committed expression in the silence that followed.

“You don't understand," I shouted, jerking my head around and twisting my body out of pain before curling in on myself again. “Something really fucking bad is going to happen!" For a moment, the only sounds were my sobs. I was worried that Ravnick had already left, but, just as I summoned the will to climb onto my knees, he spoke once more.

“If it does, you'll be the first to know," he stated, and slammed the door.

“Ravnick!" The the little sliver of light that trickled in from the hallway disappeared and the bolt latched as I ran to the stairs, immediately collapsing and breaking my fall with my hands, lowering myself to the steps where I sat and sobbed for a while, letting out quick, exhaling breaths as I waited for the pain to abate. It eventually settled down in my back, and although the wound on my head burned miserably, at least it did not sting so badly anymore.

I didn't have the highest hopes for the day, but this was certainly not something that I had expected. What would Ravnick do once he got back to me? I would probably be arrested – especially if the assassination plan succeeded. My head raced with bad thoughts: now the duke was sure to die, now Oslost would be dragged into war, now millions more lives were going to be destroyed because I couldn't talk my way out of the situation better.

“Ravnick, you fucking piece of shit," I shouted. “Fucking idiot!...I'm trying to help you, goddammit!" I let out heavy breaths while I waited for myself to calm down. I tried to reason more constructively – maybe he wouldn't arrest me. He did lock me in a room, after all, instead of alerting the guards. But then again, he may have wanted to spare any fleeting trace of order that was left in the day. His research was to be unveiled today, after all, during the duke's speech. For all I knew, Ravnick himself would get to speak to the crowds. Was all this just so that he could have his fifteen minutes of fame before the people of Lester without worry of things being cancelled? It would make sense, knowing what I did about his personality by that point. But more likely he probably just truly believed that his discovery would end the war and didn't want to delay that with hasty security procedures. Alerting the guards that a possible conspirator had been let onto government property, after all, would probably have derailed the entire day.

“Is there nobody in this fucking city I can trust?" I muttered. I finally came to the conclusion that, at the very least, I could be certain that if the duke was assassinated, then I would definitely be arrested – at least that's what Ravnick seemed to imply. I had to at least try to break out of there. What would I do when I got out? I wasn't sure, but I sure as hell wasn't going to accomplish anything just sitting in there.

I staggered to my feet, wiping the last remnants of moisture from my face and reaching into my coat for my lighter. I couldn't find it in my pocket and my heart immediately sank. More franticly, I searched the other pockets of my coat, patting them down on the outside after two thorough searches produced nothing.

“Fuck," I muttered helplessly as I remembered that my lighter was in my other coat, which was probably still lying on the floor of the shabby hotel room Novka had rented. “Son of a…" I let my hands fall to my side, not at all sure what to do now that I had no source of light. A crowbar could be lying right next to me and I wouldn't know it. I reached up to my head again to feel around the wound, which still hurt quite badly, when an Idea suddenly occurred to me. I got onto my knees and felt around for the hat that I had purchased from the student earlier – it was a last-ditch hope, but it was all I had left at this point.

In the infantry, when half of the year it snowed and another fourth it rained, everything got wet – even my underwear got wet regularly. And that meant that keeping your tobacco dry was a challenge. No cigarette cases were tight enough to keep water out; no pockets were deep enough to keep one's tobacco from getting soggy. Yet, when forced to the extremes of survivability, in cold water that's sometimes up to one's waist, people find a way. The trend of keeping tobacco and lighters in the inner lining of one's helmet or cap had gradually trickled into civilian life. If the vast extent and duration of the war could ever do one good thing for me in my life, it was at this very moment.

On my knees, fumbling up the stairs, my hand finally brushed against something soft but firm. I grabbed the hat by the brim and flipped it over, reaching inside and eagerly pulling back the inner lining. Nothing, nothing…I felt a lump. I couldn't believe my luck. I was overwhelmed with relief as I pulled out a small paper package. My heart sank for only a moment before I comprehended that these must be matches – ok, I could make that work. Making my way back down to the base of the stairs, I lifted my boot to my knee and struck one of the few matches that were there. It took a few tries, but eventually it finally ignited, and when it did I saw that the large room I was in was piled high to the ceiling with boxes, crates, and old wooden furniture – clearly this was a neglected storage space. Now I just needed to find a lantern.

I had to do a bit of searching, and went through a few of my precious matches before I found, to my great fortune, an old, rusty, shabby-looking lantern. It was clearly outdated, but it would...No oil. Of course. Frustrated, I searched around a little longer before finally finding some candles, lighting them and placing them throughout the room to create just enough of a glow to illuminate the floor: the piles of boxes and old furniture seemed to stretch into a bottomless darkness above me.

I looked around, not sure now what to do. The door was wood, but it was strong wood, and heavy – I could tell that much when Ravnick slammed the thing shut. Perhaps if I had some iron or something I would be able to pry it open, or maybe even break it, but everything in the room looked like it was made out of wood, as well. The door was also bolted from the outside, so there was no lock to pick…I was at a loss for ideas. I started to search around for anything I could use to try and pry the thing from the wall, yet I knew that my own strength wouldn't be enough. Either away, I was determined to think of something – after all, if I never made it out of there, I would face almost certain arrest, and then I might never see Larissa again…