Valor and Violence

Elizabeth looked up at the Doge’s Palace, perched at the very top of the Patrician District. It wasn’t quite on the summit of the dormant volcano that comprised most of the island, but it was close, the red stone peak looming just behind it. A deep fissure ran laterally across its face, marking the old rim before an eruption aeons ago reformed the crest. Seemed like a silly place to build a city, in Elizabeth’s opinion, although if it only erupted a little bit, the homes of the rich and powerful would probably shield the lower districts from the ash and lava.

Pit, the palace could probably shield the entire city by itself. It had to be the most opulent building this side of the Rift, walls of gleaming white limestone moulded in The Six Cities, polished brass roofs styled to resemble a stormy sea, there were even precious stones studded in the ornate window frames. It was the most garish and wankerish display of obscene wealth she had ever seen, and to be honest, it pissed her off a bit.

Seeing her expression, Francesca laughed beside her.

“Kids begging in the streets while our illustrious leader bathes in diamonds, right? This isn’t even his actual palace, it’s his holiday home. Vacant except at events like this.”

“This is a holiday home?”

“Yes. The real palace is on his private island, further into the archipelago.”

They were standing in the shadow cast by the setting sun as overdressed toffs streamed in through the wrought-iron gates. Not that Elizabeth could judge, she was as overdressed as the best of them, clad in a shimmering red gown with a thigh high slit, knee-length heeled boots of glistening black leather, and a silken tote the size of a duffelbag slung over her shoulder. It was filled to bursting with pistols and her trusty wind magic enchanted chain, though she had left the grenades back at the safe house. No room, unfortunately.

The only piece that didn’t quite fit was the enchanted pendant she wore around her neck. It was an ugly, brassy monstrosity styled in the shape of a fanged maw, but despite her repeated pleas, the Master refused to fashion her a more attractive one. She still kept it on her at all times, though, in case she ever needed to make a quick getaway. She gave it a reassuring squeeze as a guest stumbled outside, threw up in the garden, then staggered back in doors to cheers and jeers from his friends.

“It’s a tad sickening, isn’t it?” Elizabeth asked.

“This is Verduno. Way it’s always been, way it probably always will be,” Francesca replied with a shrug.

“Well, for what it’s worth, tonight is going to be extremely unpleasant for a very many of them.”

Elizabeth turned to Francesca and found a wolfish grin on her face. She handed Elizabeth a masque, a half cover of beaten gold with diamonds studded around the rim. Elizabeth put it on, tightening the leather strap over the back of her head and striking a pose.

“How do I look?”

“Like a sensual Penitent Chitibug.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“Penitent Chitibug. It’s an insect from Marduk. The females seduce the males with a mating dance. Then bite their heads off after sex.”

“Hmm… I can’t picture it, I think I need a demonstration.”

Francesca scoffed. “You want me to bite your head off?”

“Maybe just a nibble?”

Francesca shook her head, but a faint smile played across her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You don’t know the half of it. You’re more than welcome to find out, though.”

“I’m sure, but I think we have more pressing matters to attend to. Are you ready for this?”

“Readier than they are,” Elizabeth said, stepping towards the gate. She stopped when Francesca grabbed her wrist.

“Be careful, Elizabeth. You look ravishing, but that will draw a lot of attention in there.”

“Awww, are you worried about me? That’s sweet,” Elizabeth said, blowing Francesca a kiss.

“Only in so far as your success or failure here determines the fate of me and my child.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like I said, you’ve got nothing to worry about. This is practically a vacation for someone of my talents,” Elizabeth replied, waving a dismissive hand as she eyed the soft aristocrats entering the palace. “Before I go, though. Out of curiosity; where did you get all this stuff? It seems pretty high end for you. No offence.”

“None taken. Foreign investors came for the Doge’s party. A pair of them decided it would be fun to slum it in the Populani district before the big day. Got mugged. Picked all this up from a fence in one hit, including the invitation.”

“That’s lucky! Although not for…” Elizabeth pulled out the invitation and squinted at it, “Jamila Rafiq.”

She looked up at Francesca, who was trying not to laugh.

“Francesca, Jamila Rafiq sounds like a somewhat Emrinthian name,” Elizabeth observed.

“It does.”

“I do not look Emrinthian. At all.”

“Look, we work with what we have, alright? Just tell them you’re adopted,” Francesca said, releasing her grip on Elizabeth’s wrist. The assassin fancied the broker’s touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, and she gave her a sly smile. Francesca’s eyes widened a bit, and she coughed to cover up her embarrassment, waving Elizabeth away. “Good luck. And keep the masque, if you can. I can sell it for a decent sum when this is over.”

Elizabeth shrugged and dutifully passed through the gates. She fixed her best socialite smile as she approached the doorman, a tall Tok Risim man in a plain white masque and tuxedo. He took the names of the couple in front of Elizabeth, waved them through, then asked Elizabeth, quill poised over the guest list.

“Uh… Rafiq… Jamila Rafiq. I’m adopted,” she added. He didn’t immediately reply, so she gave an awkward curtsey to sell the deception.

“Right,” he replied in an even tone, his face unreadable behind his masque. “Will your esteemed brother be joining us tonight?”

“Oh, him. No, no, he won’t.”

“Alright. May I have the apology to provide the Doge’s steward?”

“Sure, umm… Sorry.”

“Ma’am, the apology is the reason Mr. Rafiq couldn’t attend, not an actual apology.”

“Uh…” Elizabeth said, racking her brain for an excuse. “He’s got the shits. Explosively. It’s a mess back in our room right now, really awful stuff. I think it was the calamari down in the Populani district. You know what they say! Visit the slums and it finds a way to follow you back,” she said with a giggle. She felt like it might have been a tad high pitched, but aside from that, she was being as cool as a cucumber. After a few moments, the doorman nodded, made a tick and a cross on his parchment, and waved her through.

And that’s why I’m the Guild’s premier assassin! She thought to herself as she passed through the ornate mahogany doors and into the reception hall.

It was massive and every bit as foppish as the exterior. Gleaming marble floors and colonnades, heavy velvet curtains in deep crimson along the walls and twin gilded staircases curving towards a dais set into the second story. The Doge himself was up there, sipping wine and waving regally at the masses. He was the most opulently dressed person there, clad in a thick purple cloak lined with snow leopard fur, an outlandishly heavy bejewelled golden crown on his head. But he wasn’t alone in tone. Richly dressed politicians, merchants and nobles thronged the hall, chatting and laughing in insufferable high brow tenors as physically impressive waitstaff threaded throughout, bearing polished silver trays covered in crystal goblets and…

Finger food!

Elizabeth shouldered an Aderathian noble aside as she set upon the nearest server, swiping a handful of what appeared to be tiny slices of lamb on croutons. She crammed them into her mouth, then swiped a goblet from a passing tray to wash it down. She sighed as the concoction flowed down her throat.

Delicious.

“My, oh my,” a voice said from behind her. “It’s rare to see an appetite like that at one of these events.”

Elizabeth turned, prodding a scrap of meat caught between her teeth with her tongue, to find a short, solidly built Aderathian in a red enamel masque, a shapely woman on either arm.

“Really? Food this good? I find that hard to believe,” she replied, sucking loudly at the obstinate strip.

“Yes, well, there’s a certain degree of decorum expected in high society these days. Though I suppose such behaviour is to be expected, courtesy of the growing merchant class. Boys dressed as women among them.”

The women on his arm tittered obnoxiously at the barb and Elizabeth suppressed a snarl.

Was he talking about her?

“You should embrace it, mister…” she said, eyes narrowing to slits.

“Perot, but you can call me milord.”

Elizabeth cracked a wide smile. Perot was one of the Aderathian nobles the Master had mentioned before she left. It wasn’t why she was here, but there couldn’t be any harm in starting another job on the side, right?

“Milord,” she said, sidling up to him and trailing a finger down his chest, “as I was saying, we may not have the class you’re accustomed to, but we have, other, redeeming qualities. I could show you, if you like.”

Behind the masque, Perot’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped ajar. Elizabeth ignored the glares from the women as she slid her hand further south, Perot squeaking as she squeezed.

“This place seems pretty… big. I’m sure we can find somewhere quiet.”

*

She wiped her stiletto off on Perot as he spasmed on the floor, his breath coming as a ragged gurgle from the hole in his throat. She checked her teeth in the shiny steel, digging with a nail at that fucking piece of lamb. Perot reached out and grabbed her ankle, an imploring look in his eyes.

“Maybe you should think about this moment next time you’re going to be a dick. Although,” she said, tapping her chin with the knife, “I suppose that’s a moot point now.”

She pulled her ankle free and swept out of the room as Perot released one final bubble behind her. With that brief diversion resolved, she needed to get back to the job at hand, tracking down the Famiglia patriarchs and removing them. She re-entered the reception hall and stopped.

It was empty.

“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing back at her. “Is the party over already?”

Someone replied from the Doge’s dais. “No, they have just retired to another venue for the night, after receiving distressing word of a miscreant crashing the party.”

The man was dressed the same as the waitstaff; black tuxedo and plain white masque, though on closer inspection Elizabeth could tell the suit had never been made for him. His chest was too broad, and the sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms when he moved thanks to barely contained biceps. She looked around as more waitstaff appeared. It suddenly made sense why they had seemed unusually fit.

They were, all of them, enforcers in disguise.

“Excellent!” Elizabeth shouted as she dumped her bag on the ground and started pulling out belts and pouches. She began fitting them over her dress as the enforcers surrounded her. “I was trying to figure out how I was going to do this discretely and coming up blank. I don’t suppose the patriarchs could come out front and centre and make this reeeaally easy for me?”

The masked speaker shook his head and tut tutted. “Don’t be ridiculous, girl. They never even came tonight.”

Elizabeth frowned as she secured the last of the straps, wrapped her chain around her wrist, and drew a couple of pistols. “What? Why not?”

“We knew you were coming long before you arrived. Though if it makes you feel better, they sent me to make your acquaintance in their stead; Matteo Capresse, son of the Capresse Patriarch, Marco. I’m not without some authority, though. My father gave me leave to negotiate with you. Give up the names of the conspirators in Verduno, and I will let you leave alive. To deliver a… message, to your boss.”

She had been betrayed. That was annoying. She’d need to have words with Francesca when she was done here.

“Let me guess Matty- “

“Matteo.”

“What’d I say?”

“Matty.”

“Right.”

“But my name’s Matteo, not Matty.”

“I’m sorry, you’re coming through a bit faint from all the way up there. Your names Matty not Matty?”

“Oh, for the love of- did you have a point?”

“Right, the point. When you said ‘you’ll let me leave alive’ there was a very pregnant pause between ‘deliver a’ and ‘message’. That wouldn’t happen to be because you were planning on disfiguring or crippling me before sending me back to Salazaar? A little in joke for you and you buddies here? Like, ‘hahahaha, guys, check it out I’m totally going to have a pregnant pause here, so afterwards when we’re cutting her up she’ll be all like ‘oh no! now I know why he took that pregnant pause!’’. Am I on the money here?”

Matty the Loudmouth was suddenly not so loud, and a few of the enforcers exchanged telling glances.

“Alrighty then, Matty my boy,” she said, putting on a bright smile. “Let’s not delay!”

“I said. My name. Is- “A bullet through the neck shut him up. The enforcers ducked and shouted, confused by the loud noise and the seemingly magical perforation of the spokesman’s throat.

It might be loud. It might be messy. But there was something to be said for a flashy weapon no one else knew existed.

“Yeah, I got it,” she said, as his body tumbled over the banister, blood pissing out of his throat in spurts of arterial red as he cartwheeled through the air.

The mob’s confusion lasted until Matteo’s body splattered onto the marble floor, the thump and crack driving the panicked thugs into action. They probably figured she couldn’t get them all as they surged forward in a tide of well-dressed muscle and flashing knives. But she didn’t need to. Elizabeth smirked and let the weighted chain play out between her fingers. She had left her bombs back in the safe house, but that didn’t mean she had left all her favourite toys behind.

She swung the chain in an arc around her and activated the enchantment, a blast of air flooring the enforcers closest to her. Taking advantage of the clear shot, an enforcer on the second story aimed his crossbow, but Elizabeth put a bullet through him and activated the pendant at her neck. She fought the urge to vomit as her physical body exploded into a cloud of black smoke and re-materialised on the second floor, coming face to face with a pair of surprised enforcers. Swearing, she dove backwards into a roll as they slashed at her, coming up with a pair of pistols levelled at them.

At that exact moment, she lost her internal battle and projectile vomited as she pulled the triggers. The lucky enforcer took a bullet through the heart. The unlucky one took his bullet in the gut. He collapsed to the ground, whimpering, and Elizabeth hobbled past, muttering an apology as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. That would be a long and painful death as his own stomach acid and shit ate away at his insides.

But at least she didn’t collapse from vertigo this time! She was getting the hang of the damn pendant. She took stock of the situation as she fought off the remaining nausea, realising with growing frustration that the piece of lamb had come back up and was, once again, stuck. The enforcers on the ground floor had recovered, and were rushing up the staircase, baying and shouting in rage and embarrassment at having their quarry slip loose.

She squinted and poked a finger at them, counting, but ran out of interest somewhere between twenty and thirty. The exact number didn’t matter. There were more of them than she had bullets. Which was a problem.

Spinning on her heel, she sprinted towards the western wing with the host in pursuit. She needed out, and fast. Taking mental stock of her equipment as she ran, she grimaced: she had a few pistols left, and one last charge left in the chain. Not much to work with. She thought about jumping out an external window, but she had only ever used the chain for a boost, never to soften a landing, and she wouldn’t get far with a pair of snapped ankles.

As she streaked by the windows, the steepled rooftops of the neighbouring buildings flashing past, an idea formed in her head. They were too far away for the pendant to carry her across the gap, but she had another option.

And it would look awesome.

She pulled a pistol and put a bullet through the window at the end of the hallway, shattering the ornate glass. The shouting behind her grew frenzied as the enforcers realised her destination, but they were too far away and too late to stop her. She flipped onto the windowsill with a half turn to face them with a broad grin. She savoured the moment, the wind snatching at the hem of her dress as her heels dangled over a multi-story drop, the dozens of violent killers bearing down on her.

This was living!

She gave them a mock salute and tipped backwards out the window.

As her body hit parallel to the ground, she slammed the chain into the wall, the flawless stonework exploding under her feet as the blast of air launched her into the night. She twisted and landed in a crouch, sliding across the roof of the adjacent building, her last two pipes already out and levelled at the ruined wall, but the enforcers were understandably hesitant to expose themselves. Especially since they had no way of reaching her, anyway.

Elizabeth–1, Francesca and her Famiglia buddies–soon to be negative a million.

Smiling, she took off across the rooftops toward the Cittadini District.