Private Tales Mercy Has A Price

[Bexley Pirian]

Track and report, that was more or less what her missive stated when she had read it.

Bexley drew up the hood to her leather jacket enough that it did not block most of her peripherals, waiting for the partner they assigned her for such a mundane task. If this had been the old days, she would be insisting on going alone, but now matters of Dreadlords were now organised by the Anirian Guard. They already hated Dreadlords, and they would come to hate her if she pressed on the matter, but Bexley soon calmed after meeting the Academy Initiate they threw at her.

Marcia was no slouch, a quality Bexley had anticipated due to the majority of their core learning years were under Revolution teachings, and she was convinced all Initiates would be too soft for the field these days. The girl was hardly anything spectacular, at least not yet, but with the right training and guidance, she was sure Marcia would be an aexcellent addition to the Dreadlord ranks.

She also possessed a gift not many are known to wield. While the noblewoman sat at her table, nursing a glass of red wine, she frowned at the sanguine colour and pretended to enjoy it without having taken a sip from it. Wine still left a bitterness not found in the grape, a bitterness that came from her wasted time at the Royal Keep and losing her chance to make her family proud by becoming the next Queen of Vel Anir.

Once she spotted the Initiate, she straightened and pushed the glass towards the seated Initiate. "When I was an Initiate, they had forbade us to indulge. Help yourself, I think you earned it." She had earned it for not irking the older Dreadlord straight away, and thus made this mundane task something to study. "Did you follow Lady Willcott?"

 

[Marcia]

Regarding assignments, it wasn't an adrenaline-pumping thrill ride of blood and violence. For the most part, Marcia had just stalked a shopping woman.

How long Lady Wilcott could spend shopping for jewellery alone had, quite frankly, baffled the girl to the point of silent frustration. On reflection, she might have considered that growing up at the Academy had changed her nature, to be task orientated to a fault. Were she ever in the market for a trinket or bauble, Marcia would have known what she wanted, beelined for it, purchased it, and then left in five minutes.

This was h o u r s.

Talking.

Trying on.

Comparing.

Changing her mind.

Good fucking grief. The Initiate had to pinch herself more than once to stop getting distracted by sheer boredom. It might have been clever, really, if you had been aware of being followed, to just bore your stalker to death.

She paused at the table with Dreadlord Bexley as the glass of wine was pushed towards her, staring at it as if it were some foreign object she could not comprehend. Drinking was an act beyond her focus, more suited to the Initiates who gleefully snuck out whenever possible to get absolutely rat-arsed and make questionable decisions on the matter of fornication. It was a distraction that remained beneath her.

And also required friends.

"Probably for the best," Marcia commented on the matter of Initiate indulgent before herself, hypocritically obliging with a small sip. Did people actually like wine? Or did they pretend? Whatever, it was different under the insistence of a Dreadlord. "And yes, I did. She went shopping all afternoon. Mostly for jewellery. It was pretty uneventful."

And so fucking boring.

"Hard to believe that's all there was to it. Was something supposed to happen?"

 

[Bexley Pirian]

Bexley shrugged.

"She is rich enough to have vendors come to her home, but to spend such a time outside her home to find something to her tastes? My money would be on she is looking for a gift, for someone at home she does not want to know or see..." Such riches were not exactly her expertise or experience, as her family had sent her off to the Academy as soon as magic was discovered by the Proctors.

"Either way, it is to be noted down for the report later." She cleared her throat, pulling out a slim notebook and opened to a fresh page of parchment. "What sort of jewellery was she looking at? What did her hands touch while you were watching her? Fabrics, colours, that sort of thing."

She had not told the Initiate to look out for such details in her tracking, but it was an opportunity to test her.

 

[Marcia]

"An affair, maybe?" Marcia asked, her thumb running over the stem of the wine glass as the sip of the red clung to the inside of her mouth like an unwelcome guest. It was the only thing the girl could think of, but then again, she wasn't well accustomed to the lives of nobility.

The Initiate's eyebrows knotted when the Dreadlord followed up with more questions, and while she hadn't been entirely oblivious to what Lady Wilcott had been picking out, she could have been more focused.

"She was looking at brooches," Marcia said slowly, continuing with a trace of uncertainty filtering into her voice, "necklaces and bracelets." Oh, she didn't like being unsure in the face of authority, that feeling of giving an inadequate summary creeping up the back of her neck like a hateful spider. Her head shrunk into her shoulders somewhat, eyes drilling into the table to summon back any semblance of memory.

"A lot of silver. Green stones." Stones. As if Marcia knew the difference between jade, emerald, and peridot in the first place. "I'm really sorry; I wasn't looking out for that kind of detail."

 

[Bexley Pirian]

Bexley surveyed the Initiate with a passive expression. "I did not expect you to be looking at the details, but it gives you something to think about in the future. On any track and report mission, memory recall becomes important once it comes to the report. Luckily, we can fill the stones portion later."

What was the use of being assigned an Initiate if it meant she could not teach them a thing or two from the old ways? They were always effective, and worked for a great many that were silver tongued.

"No need to chastise yourself for not looking." Bexley lifted the glass, taken from Marcia, and held in a way that reflected the girl's visage. If Marcia took the clue to use her reflected self to see behind her, she would see the Lady Wilcott smiling upon her seat being pulled out for her and a male companion helping her seat. "Lord Wilcott is nearing upon being considered aged, so your theory of an affair may have some ground."

The man that now took a seat, looking the same age as Wilcott, which Bexley knew to be her age.

"Remind me, does your reflection move freely or only when in your line of sight?"

 

[Marcia]

Marcia nodded, making mental notes for the future to do her due diligence when on track and report missions, no matter how dull or insignificant the details seemed. She might have supposed that the point of these assignments with Dreadlords was to learn from them, but that didn't make it any less frustrating that she hadn't stuck the landing perfectly when asked.

Despite Bexley's insistence, she would chastise herself to do better; the pursuit of improvement was the point of it all. To be the best.

When the wine glass was held up to her, her immediate reaction was to flinch; the unexpected connection with her reflection was never easy to stomach as her perspective doubled, two bodies controlled by one mind. After a swift recovery, she finally noticed the focal point in the background.

Lady Wilcott.

And decidedly not Lord Wilcott.

"It can move freely, but there's a boundary," she said, already taking the opportunity to move her mirror image, unseen to everybody, closer to the table. She'd managed the perimeter of that chapel in Satriya, but that was at the edge of her limits. As long as she kept training, pushing further, who knew how far the tether could stretch? "Bigger than this place, though. Just need to keep my eyes on the glass."

 

[Bexley Pirian]

Bexley's hand did not even falter. Her hand gripped the glass so still, the contents did not tilt with movement.

In fact, her eyes were trained on the Initiate. With her own magic, a tableau of Lady Wilcott played in her mind, as if her eyes were upon the Lady after all, and not the Initiate she was training.

"Is it possible for your reflection to over hear? To gather information for you?" To do all the work unseen, while Marcia was sat with her back to their intended target for surveilling. There was a winning edge to her smirk, which upon Bexley's facade made the woman look as if she had something up her sleeves. "Tell me what you hear."

 

[Marcia]

Marcia nodded in confirmation as Dreadlord Bexley's voice overlapped with the more subdued tones at Lady Wilcott's table. It took focus to single out one scene in place of the other, but the tree of relentless training was ready to bear fruit.

"Have you found something appropriate for Lady Lyford to wear?" Marcia spoke quietly at the table with the Dreadlord, repeating the words she heard verbatim to the Dreadlord.

Lady Wilcott nodded, reaching for her delicate chatelaine bag, retrieving the spoils of her arduous shopping ordeal, and placing it on the table for the man to view. Upon closer inspection, Marcia saw it was indeed a silver brooch with a green stone. It was simple yet elegant, shaped like an Anirian warbler, a rare local songbird known for its distinctly clarion call. Its wings held an array of green gemstones that created an eye-catching gradient, making the single onyx eye stand out.

"Indeed I have. An exquisite brooch for an exquisite occasion. I do believe she'll stand out marvellously."

So what? All this for a present? Marcia frowned, almost disappointed that there wasn't something deeper than some old nobility buying jewellery for another. Not even a bloody affair.

"And have you settled on the method?"

Just like that, a dark brow rose on the girl's face, her snap judgment of disappointment being far too hasty as the hushed conversation continued before her reflection's eyes.

"Slow poison. None of that unsightly nonsense; I would rather she succumb in the night of natural causes rather than create a stir at the banquet."

"Understood, and payment?"

"The Golden Gallery is holding a white gold ruby necklace for a Mautild Brunet, which has been paid for in advance and is expected to be picked up next Forday. I do think that should more than cover the cost."

The man nodded, his face breaking into a conversational smile as a serving girl approached. His wherewithal was proven by a deft hand that moved to rest over the brooch, hiding it from the girl's gaze. Nonchalantly, he ordered a bottle of spiced wine to their table, holding the unwavering air of a man both friendly and unassuming as he spoke and not at all betraying his nature as an apparent assassin.

"Do you require anything further from myself?"

"Not at all, Lady Wilcott. All you need to do now is ensure that Lady Lyford is wearing the brooch tonight, and we will take care of the rest."

With that, the man stood, offered a short bow and took his leave.

 

[Bexley Pirian]

"Lyford..." Bexley repeated, trying to place where she had heard the name from.

She stared at Marcia, only by way of appearing as if they were having a conversation amongst themselves, but at the conclusion of Wilcott's meeting, the Dreadlord turned to take a drink from the glass. Her expression soured, much like the taste of the wine on her tongue. "There is a parliament event tonight. Lyford is a name of one of the candidates."

Bexley set down the glass before the Initiate. "Now we are faced with a question that may go against orders. Do we stay, or do we follow? And if we are to follow, then who might we follow?"

Over time, Marcia training her magic's capacity to work over great distances would be advantageous to any operation in Vel Anir. She would get there, Bexley had faith in that on this first day. If Bexley could manage her illusions to last without her near presence, then the Initiate was one to watch.

"Got an answer?"

 

[Marcia]

When it was apparent that Lady Wilcott was simply going to sit a while longer and, no doubt, drink the spiced wine that the man had ordered to the table on her behalf, Marcia tore her gaze away.

Just in time for Dreadlord Bexley to propose a conundrum and a time-sensitive one at that.

"We shouldn't stay," was Marcia's immediate reaction, keeping her voice low and level before flitting her eyes downward to an errant teaspoon and catching her reflection again. This was supposed to be a simple track and report; if she remained within the lines of following orders to the letter, then it was time to report. A good Dreadlord followed orders; a better one could adapt to the situation.

"We already know what Lady Wilcott will do," she continued, her mirror image now moving to follow the man in preparation for action. "She will deliver the brooch. We also know it will be poison, that it will happen tonight, and that this man does not work alone. We know where and when they are getting paid."

The man walked with a sense of ease, no different than anybody else going about their day and nothing like how one would imagine an assassin would move. He was plain, ordinary, and relaxed. Upon leaving the establishment, he turned left, and Marcia's mirror image went with him.

"We don't know who he or his accomplices are or their motives."

Nothing more than a hired hand, she imagined. The machinations were likely Wilcott's, although it was difficult to say given the web of deceit that seemed to accompany Anirian politicians and nobility like a shadow. She could have been being manipulated by a bigger fish.

"We have time to alert Lady Lyford before the banquet, so I think we should follow the assassin."

Marcia picked up the spoon, still staring at its surface, her reflection absent as the strain of distance began to set him.

"But we need to go now before he's out of my range."

 

[Bexley Pirian]

A smile grew on Bexley's expression, proud and unafraid to show the Initiate her thoughts. "You have impeccable instincts, Initiate."

She set the glass down in the middle of the table, dropping coins to pay for it before standing.

Bexley did not say another word, did not invite Marcia to lead them both either. In fact, Bexley moved slowly, naturally, but her eyes watchful. She was able to find and follow their target with ease. Side by side, there were some physical likeness between herself and Marcia, the hair especially. If anyone were to look their way, they would see sisters, perhaps half sisters, but with their different heights and face shapes, looking too long would alert one they were not kin.

Illusions were easily weaved. Both their facades would take on similar features, blurring visions to believe that they were both sisters out for a stroll in Vel Anir.

"Can you see what their eyes are looking at? Street signs, shops, people...?"

 

[Marcia]

Marcia might have savoured the validation from the Dreadlord were she not in the process of stalking an assassin through the streets using the back of a spoon. Perhaps later, providing nothing went awry between then and now.

They moved, the handle of the pilfered spoon up her sleeve and the head nestled in her palm as her eyes remained focused on the surface. It was difficult to look natural as they walked through the streets, with Marcia assuming the form of some peculiar, shy creature with its head down low and stare focused on her hands.

"Nothing notable," she responded, her second set of eyes keeping pace with him, observing the gait of a man who, on the surface, seemed pedestrian and carefree. "So he must know where he's going."

They would find out soon enough.

"Are we going to intervene?" Marcia asked the Dreadlord at her side, who would have to stop her from walking into anybody lest the girl walked through the streets holding up a spoon, which was not very subtle or, on paper, sane. "Or are we still gathering information only?"

 

[Bexley Pirian]

"Depends on what our friend ends up doing." Bexley looked to Marcia then, seeing the illusions she casted change the Initiate's facial features, but as the spellcaster, she was able to see past her own work and stare into her eyes. "Gathering information always. That is the lead of our work."

The streets were not filled with too many people, fortunately, that their mark would be lost in the sea, but the direction the target was taking made the Dreadlord sigh softly.

Magic weaved around them both, a sensation much like the softest and lightest silk washing over their persons before molding into something new. Illusions that only grew larger, and fell around their frames and curves as both Initiate and Dreadlord blended into their surroundings. They would be hard to track now that the crowds have thinned, allowing them to walk without fear of being caught.

"Keep every step as quiet at you can." Was all Bexley said. The assassin they were tailing had now turned around a corner, but many windows lined the streets of homes and small businesses to allow Marcia to follow.