Book Four – Interlude – Part Six – The Captain’s Elegy

Fisher thought long and hard. Killing a man in cold blood? No, it wouldn’t be cold blood since the overwhelming circumstantial evidence suggested Nicholas was behind it. Even as impossible as it sounded, the fair bishop of Canary was at least connected to it. If he wasn’t, his cryptic words, obsession with prayers, and the sudden appearance of assassins who repeated those obsessions did nothing for his case. As far as Fisher was concerned. Anyone else not privy to the knowledge he and the governor had would just deduce it was a series of unintended coincidences. And Nicholas could always say he only gave a sermon. It was up to the individual in question to take his words as their own, and what they do cannot be traced back to him.

If he had said something like ‘kill the non-believers,’ that would have been an indirect threat.

‘We need the world to be filled with high-quality prayers?’ That was another thing entirely.  It could be interpreted as wanting to pray more often, pray longer, convince others to pray, or kill those that hadn’t prayed a day in their life. As it was probably true in the case of the latter, Nicholas’s defense was as structural as nadrium. Combined with the resources of the church and the words of the Cardinal located in Adenaford, Nicholas was nearly untouchable unless he was caught in the act.

Even then, the chances of him being imprisoned or punished were  absolutely microscopic. Often enough, any problem priests were transferred to another city.

“… I have been getting worried something might happen since his attacks at me are going nowhere fast… If he can’t get to me, then what about my wife? Or my daughters? As a father and a husband, I have a duty to keep them safe… But I need your word. Not as Blasé, but as Claus Keywater, Prince of Keywater. I need you to say that you’ll look after my family.”

“Don’t talk like you’re about to die, man. He's an old man with a single guard. Not that I’m one to underestimate my enemies, but we’ve looked into his past. What you told us checked out. About being an apprentice blacksmith and finding his home in the church? It’s all true. He doesn’t have any record of joining Warden, and while he is blessed by a Major God, we couldn’t discover the name.”

“It isn’t him I’m worried about. It’s his assistant, Klee. He’s a mountain of a man of few words. And judging from the nature of this assignment, I assume I’m going in alone… And you didn’t answer me. Claus, say you’ll take care of my family.”

Claus held out a hand, and Fisher shook it. “I promise they’ll be fine for the rest of their lives. As long as we’re here, however. Once we leave, or if we leave, I’ll still find a way to check in on them. But for the time being, I’ve called in a favor from an old friend. He’s going to shadow you and your family for the next two weeks.”

“I understand,” Fisher replied. Eina looked a bit uneasy in the face, then realized this was the best way to move forward.

“The night of the 23rd is when you’ll make your move. There'll be a parade running through the noble district about five blocks from the church. From what you’ve told us, Nicholas absolutely hates anything that doesn’t involve worshipping. I’ve talked with him about it, and he said he doesn’t want that nonsense anywhere near his church, so he was setting up barriers. Honestly, that’s the best case for us since there won’t be anyone there. You are the captain, after all. Seeing you patrol wouldn’t be the most alarming thing in the world.”

“The 23rd, huh?...” Fisher took a breath and looked down at his armored hands. The black shininess soaked up the light filtering in from the single window in his office. His mind went back to when assassination was a daily occurrence. Sneaking in through a field, slitting the throats of pigs and cows to eliminate the food source for a helpless village that was their target. Throwing feces into the river. Or perhaps killing a deer and draining its blood in the drinking well. In those times, there was no limit. Everything was permissible, and nothing was forbidden. “Going back to that life… If only for a day…”

Going back to that life? Eina and Blasé thought simultaneously.

“Fine. I’ll see to it that it’s done. As for your shadow, the one that’ll protect my family... Are you sure they’re trustworthy?” I've known he was here all along. I wonder if you told them not to interfere with the assassination attempts?

Blasé nodded and snapped his fingers. A puff of smoke filled the room. It vanished quickly, revealing a kneeling man with a scar across one closed eye. He was dressed in the black garb fitting the ninja, a rumored type of mercenary mainly found in the Enkami Shogunate-- a country to the far east. A single crimson headband was wrapped around his upper left arm, and a pair of sharpened knives sat around his waist.

“I cannot tell you anything about him, but he was one of my closest allies when Qina and I defeated a mighty ancient dragon in his country. I trust him with the life of my sister and I. Because of that, I hope you can trust me. Ah, and remember our first meeting? The one with Jimmy and his father? Eina went and fetched him then and there, and he’s been shadowing you ever since. Rest assured, you can trust him. While I’m at it, I know you wanted to keep that former slave’s location a secret. I honored your wishes by telling him to keep it to himself. He and his clan take secrecy to the utmost level of importance."

“I want to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. When Mire and I went on patrol after that meeting, I felt a presence. Figured you had something to do with it because my instincts didn’t alert me to any danger. It was the same when my family and I walked around town," Fisher said. He didn't do a damn thing when the attempts on my life were made...

“Sir Fisher, anyone that tries to harm you or your family will fall at my blade under the secrecy of shadow. I apologize I couldn’t make myself known earlier, but offering my services beforehand was the best way to prove my ability! And if I may add, sir, I am impressed you picked up on my presence. Lord Claus and Lady Qina are the only outsiders to have done so before!” said the ninja. His voice was metallic, almost as if it had to pass through a couple of pipes before coming out his mouth. A mask did cover his nose and chin, so that probably answered that question. As quickly as he appeared, he threw down a smoke pellet and vanished when it dissipated.

“It also goes without saying, but we’ll be watching in case anything unexpected happens,” said Blasé. The three of them had been standing in a circle, ignoring the nearby chairs, but it was time to break the formation. He broke off first and placed a hand on the door's handle. It squeaked like a mouse as it turned.

“Fisher, I wish there was another way… Honestly, we probably should have done this earlier… I’ve done the math and thought it out, but should the worst comes to pass... If the town ends up under Nicholas's control... We won't get the growth we need from the city. I can already foresee our mission ending in failure should that happen. Perhaps I’m not any better since I’m basing everything off of money and statistics,” Eina confessed. When dealing with people, she wanted to see them as people… Nearly everyone did. But her mission was so broad and specific at the same time that every decision she and her brother had to make essentially came down to the numbers.

People as numbers.

Food as numbers.

Happiness as numbers.

Vital needs as numbers.

Dupla as numbers.

Numbers… Numbers… Numbers…

With everything being so quantifiable, the 'appropriate' decision was easier than picking a coin off a table.

But that was why she felt anguish in her heart. Her years at Warden taught her more about the world than Veris or Trerk. People couldn’t be deduced into simple numbers—their actions couldn’t be plotted out on a board and solved with a mathematical formula. Even still, the Keywater twins had to try and make the impossible possible.

“I don’t suppose you can’t get your companion to do it?” Fisher asked, knowing the answer.

“We cannot. His clan has a rule that prevents them from taking on assassination contracts. Even I couldn’t convince them to bypass it. And as you know, Eina and I cannot be involved in any way. When we walked in, she used Veil of Obfuscation and Silentium Fluctus. Only the very people in this room can see or hear us. Should anyone try to observe from the window, they will not see us. Ah, it should go without mentioning that these two skills were used in all of our meetings. Even the first one. But it wasn’t activated until Tim, Mire, and Nicholas had left. Secrecy is the name of the game.”

The two then left Fisher alone in a room that had more than one person in it. He couldn’t tell exactly where his bodyguard was, but he could feel his presence through Blethor’s instinct. It was built up, waiting to be set off at the first person remotely thinking about causing his targets any harm.

“Justice will be justice, I suppose. Between killing an innocent for the sake of false revenge and assassinating a bishop to prevent potential mass mind control… The choice is clear, right? What am I going to tell the wife?” Fisher lamented what was sure to be a turbulent future as he made his way down to the still busy lobby. Mire and Tim managed to catch him before leaving and assured them their worries about his safety were well-founded but not necessary any longer. Then he did that a second, and a third, and fourth. Even a fifth was ultimately required before they allowed him to leave.

I must admit… It still feels a little bit weird for a Demi to worry so much about me… But I do feel happy. Mire… Tim… Thank you…

The now off-duty captain reversed his steps through the city until he came upon his houses. The difference an hour or two made, in regards to the festival prep, was substantial. Now? Cheery, colorful banners decorated nearly every building. Stalls were started to be packed with food, clothes, and various little accessories here and there. Now that he had six days to enjoy it, he wondered how chaotic this year would be compared to the last. Not in terms of fights breaking out or riots, but chaotic when compared to his daughters’ boundless energy.

“Daddy?!” exclaimed Meri when he walked through the door. She was helping her mother in the kitchen, and she ran to her father with a wet rag dripping right behind her. Marissa and Mari showed up a second later, both of which had lovely smiles.

“I’ve got good news, girls! Your daddy has the next six days off!”

“YAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!” cheered the little rascals.

Meri ran up and hugged his leg. Then she looked up with her bright eyes. “Then can we go to the festival? Everyday? Daddy? Please?”

The last time I sat down and wrote about what was going through my mind was when my village was destroyed. It was just a scribble of nonsense about a fool’s desire for revenge that transformed into needless slaughter over a decade.

This is the second time, and while I want to say its source is different… In essence, it’s nearly the same. Only now I’m a little bit more educated…

This letter will be burned the moment I’m done, so I have no problem with writing down things that should remain a secret.

I—Fisher Jin—was ordered to take out Nicholas Constantius. On paper, it is a preemptive strike against a man who undoubtedly holds an unholy power. In reality, I can admit it’s a form of revenge for me. When the attempts on my life first came to pass, I strangely accepted it. But as they failed, I realized there was a chance for the target to switch from me to my family… Marissa is a capable woman. She can fight—brutally fight with her rapier if the need ever arises. Despite that, I must make sure that day will never come.

She hadn’t ever experienced the emotions that come with stealing a life, and I plan to keep it that way

It’s currently 10:52 PM on the night of the 23rd… In just a few minutes, I will have to leave to achieve something for the greater good of this city…

Before I stain my hands with the blood of another, I wanted to reflect and recall these six days of bliss I’ve had with my family.

Meri, my sweet little angel… Mari, my bundle of joy… When it was time to experience these six days of festivities, the two of you never let go of my hands for a moment. Even as we bounced around from stall to stall, going from snacking on sausages to eating a sugar-coated apple, the two of you didn’t want to leave my side for a moment.

Even seeing the visible frustration build up in your adorable faces when the hook fishing game seemed to be too much…and seeing the smiles blossoming on your faces when I proudly and valiantly won twice in a row… That sheer admiration… Becoming a father was worth it… Gods, I can say becoming your precious daddy has been the highlight of my life.

Even when I feel weak and pathetic, I can count on you two to give me the strength I need to push through the day. And might I add that you two looked so adorable in your festival robes that it brought a hundred smiles to my eyes. Right then and there… It felt like the future flashed through my eyes. Seeing you two grow up, becoming taller and even more beautiful… As a father, it does my heart well to imagine the perfect future for you two. At the same time, I just want to be selfish and have these moments last forever.

After a few more years, the two of you will be too big for me to hold at the same time….

Mari, three days ago, you fell asleep after asking me to carry you on my shoulders. I couldn’t leave you up there in your sleepy state, so I took you down and held you to my chest like I did when you were a baby. “Daddy,” you whispered… It did my heart well to know you were dreaming about me.

And Meri, even though this week is one of fun and joy, I love how you kept bugging me for another lesson. Having you fight is something I do not want, but as I told your mother, I cannot control what you do with your life. Even last night, when I was tucking you into bed, you were still hugging that wooden sword. And don’t think I didn’t see the thing you wrote on it…

‘I love daddy…’ Well, daddy loves you too, sweetheart. You, your sister, and your mother… I’ll always love the three of you with my very heart.

And should a fourth come around? Say a little brother or sister? I’ll love them all the same.

Marissa… The love of my life. You can read me like an open book… When I told you of the task I had from the governor, the very first thing you did was hug and ask me if I was okay. You had your own reservations over a state-sanctioned assassination. After learning the details, I was surprised to see you agree to it without any arguing. I didn’t need to know the reason because you would have said the following in your lovely voice. “Dear, you wouldn’t have accepted something like this if there was another way. I share your fear of the target switching from you to me or the girls… I only wish there was something more I could do to ease your pain…”

“Dear, you wouldn’t have accepted something like this if there was another way. I share your fear of the target switching from you to me or the girls… I only wish there was something more I could do to ease your pain…”

Fisher looked up from the kitchen table, the only light blossoming from a weak Lux Sphere. Its frail existence only sustained by the mediocre amount of Skill Energy coming from Fisher.

He saw his wife standing in the open doorway. Her beautiful face held a subtle smile, the opening of her nightly robe displaying the sides of her tantalizing breasts. With a pair of black panties, it was almost enough to make one believe she was seducing her husband to stay home. But no, that wasn’t the case. Before he snuck downstairs to write the letter, he and his wife shared one last passionate moment. Marissa had probably scampered off to the bathroom to clean up the thick semen that no doubt had some trouble sliding out of her.

“Did I wake you?” asked Fisher. Marissa shook her head, sending her playful hair dancing across a pair of uneasy eyes. She held a hand to her open robe, touching her bare chest with five slender fingers that radiated motherly affection.

“No… I just couldn’t sleep… It’s a wife’s duty to be worried for her husband. I was standing right behind a moment earlier. Did you not see me?”

So that’s how she knew what I wrote… “I didn’t… Sorry, dear.”

“You’re troubled… Fisher, don’t go through with this if you have doubts. Have Blasé find someone else to do this…” Marissa walked back around her husband and danced her fingers through his hair.

“It’s not that… I just thought I left this life behind when I met you… When I became a father… I’m afraid I accepted the job so easily…”

“You did so because of us. Fisher, I can only just offer my support. I can fight, but I’m not even ten percent as skilled as you. And something tells me you wouldn’t accept my help…”

“And you’d be right.”

“If I was strong enough, then you’d know I’d be right there by your side. Remember what I said, we’ll protect our little angels together.”

“I know, sweetie… Even when I do kill him, would you still love me?”

“Until the end of time, dear.” An apt reply it was, and Fisher looked up. Marissa stared down and touched her lips to his. “Consider that to be the first of many, many kisses. I know you’ll come home safe, but just think of that as a little extra incentive.”

After the sound of his chair scooting out echoed around the empty kitchen, Fisher wrapped his hands around his wife. He held her head to his armored chest and kissed her forehead nearly a hundred times. “I’ll be home safe… I promise it…”

“Dear… I love you…” whispered Marissa. She felt something drastically horrible in the depths of her heart. It was such an ominous feeling, one that told her she needed to keep her arms wrapped around her husband if she wanted to keep him.

Fear or faith? To Marissa, the choice was clear. She would place all of her faith into believing Fisher.

But faith was funny and odd. It wasn’t deterministic or infallible. Faith had a real chance of barreling down towards one path and suddenly shooting off to another lane entirely.

At 11:19 PM, on the 23rd of August, a man tasked with killing the second most powerful religious figure in Lando left his house to complete that very objective. His stark black armor camouflaged him within the nightly shadow. The moon had taken refuge, refusing to soar amongst the sparkly sky. Perhaps it wasn’t in response to the assassination, but Fisher couldn’t help but feel that way. Even so late at night, the common district sure was bumping. Fisher passed by four or five restaurants slam full of hungry, drunk diners. It was so packed they had to start seating people outside on the sidewalk with boxes for chairs and tables.

Waiters and waitresses, mostly the latter, scampered and skirted around from table to table, keeping an exhausted yet adorable smile. Of course, they would be happy since long hours equated to overtime pay. The beer and mead were flowing as freely as the frequent summer showers Lando was known to have. Thick cuts of steak and downright delicious bowls of stew seemed like they were being devoured by the metric ton.

Fisher analyzed their drunken fun and cheerful laughter, then quickly thought about what would happen if Nicholas’s dream came to fruition. While it was true someone couldn’t find a spot of religion in the festivals thrown in Canary, his plan would involve removing the ancient art of giving money for goods and services. The bishop hated how dupla became intertwined in what he thought should be dedicated services to the Heavens Above.

If I think about it, that’s probably the real reason he has to die. If Nicholas ever gets his way, then these festivals become a sizable expense. Most money comes in from the slavery markets, but these seven days bring in a substantial chunk of dupla. Not to mention the tourists who come in from the nearby villages. Even travelers from Adenaford come to visit since it’s rare to throw a party that lasts a week.

When Fisher reached the noble district, he stopped right at the entrance and pulled out the letter he wrote before leaving.

A flaming wall of fire was born a moment later, and darkened ash rained down upon the pavement. He gave a final thought to the letter, then cleared his mind. Determination filled it. Fisher reached inside his Dimensional Storage and retrieved a simple longsword. It was as standard as ever with, nothing special about it. But then he took out his nadrium dagger. After flipping the magnificent piece of art around his hands and fingers, he slotted it into a small sheath on the back of his hips.

He was now equipped and ready for this fight. Each step sent a shiver of anticipation through his strong arms. Each time he moved even a centimeter forward, the scars littering his body throbbed and ached.

That shouldn’t be possible since they were inflicted over half a decade ago.

The pain? Fisher Jin ignored it because discomfort was something he was used to. It was something he used to desire in his early, violent days.

He marched ever forward, glad that the governor had fulfilled his promise of emptying the nearby streets. Like his prediction, Nicholas had instructed someone to step up barriers around the streets leading to his godawful church.

No one knew Fisher was here.

No one would ever think to check if someone was out scurrying out during the dead of night.

Fisher Jin had full reign of these five blocks since the people who lived there had been personally invited by the good governor to attend the festival parade.

And then he made it to his destination… Standing so tall, it brought a disgusting taste to his tongue. Fisher wanted to curse the church and all it stood for because it had tried to erase him from this world. The foul man who ruled its wretched reins wanted to leave Fisher's children without a father and his wife without her husband. His sword remained sheathed by his side, but he gripped the handle tight enough to crumple a lesser metal. In his left hand sat his black helmet, and he placed it upon his head.

He made his way in past the unlocked front door, then emerged into an empty lobby. It was so quiet he felt his own heart pound against his chest. Yet his blade remained at his side. Searching through the hallways yielded no bodies, and even the extravagant worship room with the stage and curtains was empty of life.

Upon ascending to the second floor, it was the same song and dance. The very carpet and tiled floor contained no hints of any feet having traveled on them, and Fisher was partly worried Nicholas had somehow learned of the assassination.

With the third floor having as many differences as a mouse versus a rat, sweat began to drip down Fisher's face as he stepped up to the fourth floor. He paused right when passing the door, coming to a stop in this floor’s lobby. It was quiet, but the collective voice of prayer reached his ears. The voices were all conjoined together, sounding less like prayers and more like ramblings of different cadences and volumes.

Unlike the other floors, this room he found himself in at the beginning had just a single hallway, though it was enough to fit three Kobolds side by side. He traveled down it, taking in the sight of the burning candles providing the only illumination. Their flames were weak and poor, probably indicating that Nicholas didn’t even spend enough money to make sure his church was acceptably lit.

At the end of the corridor, the prayers became more audible. The imperfections were more noticeable. Fisher emerged through a large, towering door and came across a sizable room filled to the brim with both Lux Spheres and people kneeling in prayer. There had to have been two or three hundred at most, and even just from comparing the clothes of the closest individual, Fisher knew that these people were nobles—through and through.

Aw, shit… Fisher thought when his target was at the very back of the very populated room. Nicholas stood tall and proud, his hands directed to the heavens while leading the kneeling congregation. His assistant Klee—the mountain of a man—stood right next to him. Funny enough, he had assumed a pose of comfort, leaning against a small table while looking almost bored in a way.

The two had their backs turned towards the captain but turned around when they picked up a set of armored footsteps.