Chương 285: The Late Ervhsez Lydpel

"I need to take a break," I huffed, shaking my head. Man, I was really feeling it today.

"You're telling me?" Gala Kralcit said, staring at the thick folio I had handed her.

"What the everloving mercy is all this?" The stack of pages was densely scrawled in my very legible, very clear handwriting that lacked the embellishments that made admirable penmanship. But she was more concerned with the sheer volume of writing and drawing I've handed to her. I walked alongside her across the white-gravel paths, and mustered my thoughts to explain this properly.

"All right, so I've got an obscure magic item in my possession known as an Iron Book. And-""Never heard of it."

"That's what obscure means," I agreed, nodding along.

"Anyway, it has lots of ancient lore in it. Invaluable. Priceless lore. But if I open the book, it will explode and destroy most of the building. The traps on that book are perhaps the most lethal trap I've ever encountered."

"So don't do that," she said, aghast.

"I respect your advice but I'm not planning on taking it," I said.

"It was sold to me as a trap, as a way to utterly annihilate someone by breaching the covers. I intend to actually recover the priceless lore, instead."

"Interesting. How."

"Well, that's where you come in," I said with a bright smile. She looked down at the thick folio of pages I had handed her.

"This?"

"That. I've been scanning the book for a while, collecting the runes as best I can. I think I have isolated the ones that are used as part of the trap, they're the ones that line the cover itself. Most of them. I know that I'm missing some, written in substances I can't detect."

"Sorry, what? How did you get these?" she said, opening the pages now. Sheet after sheet of copied runes with notes on composition and style. I don't know a lot about sigils, certainly not enough to recreate them, but this is more about drawing approximately what they are.

"I can sense things close by me," I said, cutting the explanation short.

"And it works through other materials. I can look inside, a little bit."

"So, just read the book while it's closed?" she suggested. For a second I considered actually explaining every reason why that would not work, why the ability to detect ink does not let me read a handwritten book in an ancient dialect while it is closed and sealed. Imagine a mist shaped like paper-thin letters all pressed together infinitely close and- nah.

"Can't do it that way," I said.

"Magic is weird like that."

"Can't argue that," Gala said, shrugging.

"It's weird in most ways. Anyway, you want me to try to decode the trap spells?"

"That's the short version, yes," I said.

"Please decode what these traps probably are, and how to disable them."

"Sure," she said.

"I'll give this a look. Oh, how did that last project work out for you?" she gestured at my skirts.

"Haven't had a chance to test it out yet, thank gods," I said.

"If that makes sense?" She shrugged.

"I'd like to have it tested, but you do things your way. I'll be working on your Iron Book problem. But I don't want to be anywhere around when you actually try to open the thing."

"Oh, no," I chuckled.

"You're gonna be right with me when I open that book." She scoffed, but I was actually quite serious. I want her motivated to do a damn good job. And also, her last name is still Kralcit. I have a hard time trusting her absolutely. She has no idea what my relation to her mother is, what we are to each other. But people often learn things without my permission. Stuff happens. And also, she might just be a nasty untrustworthy bitch that I'm putting too much faith in.

But this does not take me away from my original point. I waved to her, letting her move on, while I moved to my next order of business.

"I really do need to take a break sometime," I huffed again. Then I opened a portal and stepped into it. Ervhsez Lydpel was currently hosting a small get-together at his home, a publicly-listed townhouse near the club district. He was only a couple years older than I was, but he already had a reputation as a bold, enterprising sort that was determined to go straight to the top or die trying. He was a risk-taker and a pot-stirrer, a real "move fast and break things" type.

Honestly, if he hadn't tried threatening me behind my back, he'd probably have wound up on the Debt Collector's list pretty soon anyway. C'mon, the guy openly talks with people about assassinating me and doesn't care if he can't afford it. That's really, really dumb. And it definitely calls for an answer. I'm skipping my geography class right now, since there's no Belisa there I don't have a real reason to bother showing up.

And, I don't feel like skipping a meal or my social time with the other girls just so I can deal with this Lydpel guy. My plan is relatively straightforward, and I start executing it step-by-step. Normally I'd make a lot more effort to be methodical and careful and do my research ahead of time. Especially since Nathan is tangentially involved.

But right now there's a dumbass playing with fire and if I don't deal with this immediately I'm going to have to deal with a dozen more people who are just as bold but smarter and better-funded. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I flew myself over to the club district and dropped down, finding myself a street kid with nothing better to do. I paid him a silver to take a letter to an address without telling them who gave him the letter and he agreed.

I checked he understood exactly what mean, and handed him the envelope. He ran off to make the delivery, only two blocks over. He knocked, the valet opened the door, and he handed off the letter without a word, sprinting away. The valet brought the letter directly to the master of the house, who was in the middle of a crowd of friends, laughing about something or another. I could not really tell what was going on, because I was almost fifty feet away, hovering, using my sorcerous senses to follow what's going on.

I can follow along as the person-shaped vacancy in the air walked down the hall to the other vacancies, and the paper I had prepared was handed off. And then Lydpel, in the most predictable move ever, took the envelope to a side room to open and read it in privacy. That's what you do when a princess sends a letter by courier in the middle of the day. Nobody opens their mail in front of their guests. And nobody leaves the mail for later when it arrives by courier. Especially if it's from someone high-stationed.

Especially if it's from an enemy. I snooped as he walked to an adjacent room, and picked up a letter opener. Silver. He started cutting the envelope open. I crafted my blackhart mask, and then I stepped into the light. I came out swinging, steel-hard fists connecting with the back of his head and slinging him down to the ground. Skin parted under my knuckles, blood spurted. I dispelled the portal and mask together, and got a good look at him.

Underneath all the blood, that was Ervhsez Lydpel, just like I remember him. In the original version of this story, with no [Rival] [Antagonist] to disrupt the Rapier Revolt, he's one of the last three contestants for control of the coalition. Nasty piece of work. He hired assassins against his opponents in that version of the story too. Some people never change.

"Wha- but-" he babbled, staring up at me.

"Save it," I said, picking up the letter opener. This jackass has been all over town bragging about how I'm not going to be in his way much longer. He's had six appointments since Sixthday, and he mentioned it to everyone. I frankly could not let him live. I couldn't even discreetly disappear him or drop him in the wilderness either, I needed people to know he is dead. I stepped close, put the letter opener against his chest, and pushed it in like I was driving a thumbtack to hang a calendar.

The blade was parallel to his ribs so it would not get caught on the bone, aimed straight at his heart. The point sank in with a strange sort of ease, disappearing into his shirt, all the way in, and the handle, and I pushed until my thumb rested flat against his tabard. And only then did the blood spurt, soaking his clothes so fast that I had to take a step back. He collapsed back onto the floor, dead instantly, his heart almost cut in half.

I wiped my fingers on a tablecloth, and waited for his guests to react to the noise. I do need witnesses, after all. I was absolutely not expecting every one of his guests to burst in armed to the teeth. Not just armed, but glowing. Runes lit up, blades, sparkling gems- I recognized three of them carrying daggers that were made from nailmonkey claws. How the fuck are all of his guests mana warriors? The fuck kind of party did I interrupt?! And just like this, my adrenaline started pounding hard.

"Son of a pigfucker," said the first one, disgusted, as he looked at my feet.

"He's all the way dead, isn't he?" I glanced down.

"Yes." Suddenly this standoff is very tense. I quietly begin readying myself to throw void implosions all around. If they start to make a move, I need to hold nothing back. How the hell are there over a dozen well-equipped mana warriors in front of me without me noticing? They're not even wearing the cheap gear that I can melt the ink off of! I had to remind myself to keep breathing, the strain was immense.

"Aren't we gonna kill her?" said one of the other guests, whose dress looks rather cheap now that I'm looking at it with my eyes. She gestured at me with a jagged blade that was proportioned like a knife but sized like an ironing board. It's intimidating. I start figuring out exactly where my first implosion should hit. It should be touching her so she gets pulled straight in, but off-center so it blocks the entrance for the rest of them...

"He's dead," said the first one, rolling his eyes.

"He's not gonna pay us. His estate's not gonna pay us. We're shit out, Amnie. I'm leaving, this was a bust." A guy with tall blonde hair looked disappointed.

"Well, we could still kill her, right?"

"Even if we wanted to work for free, you can't kill a fucking princess and go free," came the disgusted answer.

"C'mon, let's grab a bottle for the road." Hang on.

"Wait, Amnie? That is you! What are you doing mixed up in this?" I asked her.

"Last time I heard you were bodyguard for the colonel." I could feel my tension popping like a bubble. The atmosphere here has just turned on a dime.

"Colonel left town," she grumped, shrinking the blade away again.

"Said it was too dangerous in the city. I'm starting to think he was right." The more I looked around, the more I realized that I knew most of these people. Various assassins and bodyguards from the society circuit.

"Terald, Vanda, Amnie... would someone tell me what I'm involved in?" I asked, gesturing around.

"I thought I was here to kill some guy that's trying to kill me, so what are you all doing here?" Several mana warriors were already walking out, heading for the front door. Most of them were in really bad moods, either pissed off or disappointed. The three I'd recognized most easily hung back a little longer. Amnie was shamelessly shoveling silverware into her purse. She did not look up as she spoke.

"Guy said he had baited a trap for the Debt Collector. We were here to kill him when he showed up. You know how he is, always has to make a big show, he'd go after the guards and tear the place up. We were gonna corpse him, and get paid, there's a whole fund set up by people who think they're on his list. Instead we got you, all quick and efficient, doing your own dirty work. Shit luck for us." Terald was opening cabinets for something to drink, holding a goblet in his free hand.

"He said there was a chance you'd show up, and we'd get paid if we killed you instead. Clearly, that deal is only good if he doesn't die in the process. Ah-ha!" He grabbed out a nice whiskey that was clearly meant for sipping and pulled the cork with his teeth. Amnie squatted and efficiently started running the dead man's pockets.

"It's a real feather in the cap for any independent assassin to take out a Duskare assassin, especially the boogeyman himself. This was gonna make my career, don't you know? Guess I could try guarding caravans for a while again. Steady work at least." Bloodshed makes my gears work fast.

"Maybe don't hop on a wagon just yet," I said.

"I've never seen so many high-grade warriors in one spot. I think I've got an opportunity to share with you all."

"Paying work?" Terald said, pouring half the bottle into his goblet. I've seen him do his thing before, the man's liver is pure steel.

"Yeah," I said.

"Tell you what, I'm gonna be in touch. I'm gonna hit up his study and grab his address book before the cops get here and spoil the party. I want to get in touch with all of tonight's guests. I'd like to help you all get a very different feather in your caps." Vanda still hasn't said anything, but that's normal. Terald drank half his goblet in one quaff, that's normal. Amnie is counting the money, that's normal. She glanced at me, and said, "What kind of feather?"

"How do you guys wanna help kill a lich?"

"For real?"

"For starters. I've got longer-term plans too, but we'll use the lich as tryouts." Terald glanced at the other two hitmen, and shrugged.

"I'll drink to that." And he did.