Several weeks had passed since the laboratory, the jobs for the inquisition were getting harder and harder, but they were the type of job that he was habituated to do. Arrest this person, compile those documents, check this zone. Nothing out of his comfort zone.

One day he went into the library to receive his usual instructions for the day and had a really strange red ticket “Kill the first son of the librarian” the ticket was handwritten on a special piece of paper. He contacted Lhypas for a clarification and he confirmed what the piece of paper said “kill the first son of the librarian.”

Pxan had killed before but that was a long time ago. He wasn’t the same as back then, now he was much more peaceful, much more stable. He wasn’t a snake or a rapacious eagle ready to catch every opportunity as before. Now he was Pxan the everyday worker.

But in the end, orders always order, he knew better not to disobey lest he became too a harpy in some laboratory.

The person that he needed to kill was a middle-aged man who passed his days in bars and little clubs, he did nothing all day. He didn’t even knew why the inquisition would ever want such a man dead. Yet he knew that questioning so opening order was an act of treachery. He had two, maybe three days to finish his task. Inquisitors had diplomatic immunity, if someone saw him killing him nothing would happen. Yet such methods were heavily discouraged. Probably just a little poison would do. Yes poison, he also knew what type of poison.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Thorth, that was his name, was sitting on his usual table at the usual bar at the usual hour. Pxan sat next to him and faked interest in the activities of the father. Thorth sent him away with curses and words which meaning is not clear. What was important is that he had managed his task. In a few hours, he would have been dead.

He knew all too well those cases in his old days. Someone got murdered in a strange way, investigations were opened, suspects written down and, in a few hours time, everything would be archived. Technically speaking there wasn’t a term when in a case the inquisition was so clearly involved. After a bit, he just developed a nose for those cases.

He received a great payment for that work. Greater than any of the previous ones. He felt a little pride inside him and much shame. Much much shame.

The next task was an ordinary one. His life had at this point become totally ordinary. Sometimes he would call some old friends, sometimes he would go to some bar trying to befriend someone. But most of the time he was in the library, either studying or working. He felt somewhat alienated, like a cog in a machine. He realized one day that was exactly what he was: a cog in a machine. Perfectly replaceable and somewhat identic to all others.