The harmonious hums of birds and hawking of street peddlers created a cacophony of noise as the sun rose from the east. As it climbed higher, the sun's rays burst through a decrepit window, revealing a wan teenager flailing in his sleep. Sweat clung to him like a babe to its mother's breast.

Suddenly, Mer bolted upright and began violently coughing. Copious quantities of black sludge flew from the boy's mouth, soiling the fresh linen.

'Fuck you; it's getting worse,' Mer grumbled.

A voice responded in a flippant tone, *Hmm, so it seems.*

'How much longer until it's dead?'

*Less than a month, or if you die first, even sooner. The good news is it's only downhill from here.* The voice responded in levity.

'As always, thank you for the encouragement, Freya.' Mer responded, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Seizing his now sullied sheets and clean clothes, Mer traipsed to a nearby stream to wash. The vibrant colors of spring blooms were a welcome change to the dulled hues of the slums. After discarding his ruined sheets into the current, the boy began his morning routine with only the briefest hesitation, plunging into the thawing stream. Knowing how efficient a thief the cold could be, Mer rapidly rinsed himself as his heat retreated to his core, and his veins began to freeze. Almost as quickly as it began, Mer clambered back up the bank of the stream and dressed in clean ragged clothes.

The crisp morning air and icy wind cut through Mer's thin garments, causing him to shiver. He wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to conserve his little warmth.

As Mer approached his local market, the smell of freshly baked goods and sweet fruits filled the air, mingling with the pungent odor of unwashed bodies and waste. The shouts of the street vendors were almost deafening, each trying to outdo the other.

"Fresh figs, just fifteen Coprus!" bellowed a short, stout woman.

"Stylish shirts, made from the finest fabric, only a silvus each!" yelled a lanky man with greasy hair.

"Milk, ice-cold and refreshing, two for one special!" cried a young boy with a toothy grin.

Mer shook his head at the outrageous prices weaving through the throngs of people until he approached a round man with a wide smile.

"Oritor Sol. I'll take a loaf of bread and some marmalade spread, please." Mer said, eyeing the steaming loaves on the merchant's cart.

"Of course. That comes to 45 coprus, my dear customer, but for you, I'll lower the price to 35." The tubby merchant responded with a sleazy grin.

*Bloody merchants, always trying to rip you off with a smile.*

'Fantastic, why don't we get annoyed at the man for doing his job; what did you expect to happen, huh? I may be the most charming man in Solbrook, but food doesn't just grow on trees… Well, okay, I suppose it can, but that's beside the point. Not everyone can be a freeloader like you. Everything has a price.'

*I don't expect freebies; merchants are just incredibly skilled at pissing me off.*

'Hmmm, food for thought, Freya… Maybe you were a merchant in your last life because you excel at pissing me off.'

*Maybe I was. I'm sure I would have been able to afford better food than some marmalade bread for my family then.* Freya replied in a gloating tone.

'Wow, low blow.'

"45 and throw in a plum, good sir."

"Hmmm, sure. We don't often feel the sun's warmth down here, so I'm feeling generous today."

Mer handed the merchant a silvus, and the peddler rummaged through his bag and returned 55 coprus.

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"Thank you. May Sol light our way." Mer replied with his left hand pointing toward the sun.

"Sol Invictus, my friend."

Ignoring the rest of the cries of the street vendors, Mer ducked into a dimly lit alleyway and approached an aged, crippled man in front of a flimsy stall.

"Hey Zander, I'll have a loaf of horsebread and some fabric, please?"

"Hmmph, sure, that'll be 14 coprus. You're going through a lot of fabric these days, boy. Started sewing?" Came a weak raspy voice.

Scratching the back of his head, Mer responded, "Something like that. I'm trying to make a surprise for Ema, so could you keep this between us?"

"Sure, it's none of my business anyway," Zander responded emotionlessly.

Reaching into his pocket, Mer pulled out 20 coprus and emptied them into the old man's grizzled hand.

*What a waste. Instead of subsidizing old men, why don't you buy proper food for yourself instead of this rubbish? You're going to drop dead before we even extract the parasite. You do realize I was joking about that being good news.*

'I'm afraid my heart is simply too noble and just. To see another suffer… it wounds me so, my good friend.'

*Good deeds won't heal the wounds you've inflicted.*

'But they can prevent them from festering.'

"Keep the change, old timer. You'll need it for your grandson. He's a bright kid, so I'm sure he'll do well in engineering school."

Zander nodded, a grateful glint in his eye. "Yeah, it's not cheap, but it'll be worth it. It's one of the only things this damn empire's done well. Thank you, Mer."

"No, thank you for looking after my sister for the past few years, Mr. Smith. Unfortunately, I must be off but take care. Oh, and send misses my regards."

As the sun's morning rays kissed the tops of the buildings, Mer returned to his humble hovel, the decrepit walls, and rickety furniture reminding him of his meager existence. After making his bed, he left the fresh bread, sticky rice cakes, and marmalade on the dining room table.

Dear Ema,

I already had breakfast in the market, but I left fresh bread and a gift from Sam for you on the table. My shift isn't too long today, so I should be back for dinner. Have a wonderful day.

- Lots of Love Mer

Finishing his note with a flourish, Mer quietly closed the door and made his way from the squalor of the south's muddied roads to the pristine cobbled streets of the merchant district in the northeast of the city. Along the way, he chewed on the stale horsebread purchased from Zander.

Passing well-dressed merchants and elegant storefronts, he eventually arrived at Sarus Street's communal park and sat on a quiet bench shaded beneath a weeping willow, its long, graceful branches trailing into a stream. Then, reaching into his pocket, Mer pulled out today's newspaper and began to read quietly.

Target: Sasha Ivanin

Age: 68

Occupation: Widow and heiress to Ivanin's Emporium

Occupancy: 34 Sarus Street, Marcator district, three-story limestone building, 8 frontward and 9 backward facing windows, front and back door, large rear garden.

Family:

* Husband: Demitri Ivanin - Merchant - Deceased

* Son: Udcha Ivanin - Merchant & Cultivator - Deceased

* Pet: Raven Wolf - Sova - Age: ~3

Habits:

* Rarely leaves home.

* Business affairs are managed by her butler and Ivanin's Emporium's primary shareholders.

* Spends most of her time cultivating her garden.

* Goes on a walk in the communal gardens most mornings.

* Usually shops for food on Quaday and Ocday afternoons at Puchev's grocers.

* Goes to a social gathering every Friday at Smiling Salon.

Personality: Cunning, reclusive & possibly depressive.

Objective: Assassinate

Date of Assignment: 4/2/2/1859

Deadline: 6 days - 1/3/2/1859

Folding the encrypted message and tucking it into his pocket, Mer stared across the street towards a lavish three-story estate. Its distinguished stones were speckled with beautiful draping ivory, and its windows burst with resplendent colors from various captivating flowers. An old woman could be seen quietly watering her plants from the top rightmost window.

By the time Mer confirmed the information provided by the organization and surveyed the scene, the city's smog again blotted the sun.

***

"It was such a pretty day today, Sova, don't you think?"

With unexpected firmness for her age, an old woman held a writhing feline in her wrinkled hand.

"It's such a shame that our emperor, our god, who holds supposed dominion over the sun, cannot grace us with his warmth more often. Yet I'm thankful that he did today. Mittens got to see the sun one last time, hmmm, and I guess so too, did I."

Looking into the cat's terrified eyes, the old woman casually tossed the feline to her right. The sicking crunch of flesh and bone followed as a raven beak pulverized the orange creature into a bloody pulp.

Turning her gaze to an old willow tree, the old woman watched a young man stash a newspaper into his jacket and walk away.

"For a young man to have such sad eyes, I wonder what he's been through, Sova. He reminds me of Udcha."

Sova cawed softly in response, offering her a comforting presence.

The old woman sighed and turned her attention back to her garden, her mind filled with memories of her late husband and son. She took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant air, feeling a sense of solace wash over her.

***

As the northern city's enchanting townhouses and magicarridges transformed into their horse-drawn counterparts and sewage-ladled alleys, Mer knew he was almost home. Tomorrow would be another long night, but for now, he could relax.