Having finished the conversation with Grand Inquisitor, I have had discovered that I've been left behind. Moon Unit left to work at the temple, Roxolane opted for sleeping in, Lily-Anne is visiting her parents and Bridgit had firmly settled herself down with an embroidering kit. Selene and Ed were out on a date, and much to my amusement, so were Rafiqa and Hiram. Gossip trio were present, but deep in the throes of hammering out next week's newspaper layout and thus not a welcoming company. Lemand was out somewhere, and Al... yeah. Let's just say the guy was beset by thirsty bitches. I sympathized, but decided not to brave that asp pit. Out of anything better to do, I have opted for a visit home. Well, stocking up on the sweets and other delicacies first, obviously.

Appearing in the attic like a proper boogeyman, yeah! ...Oh. Shit. SHIT SHIT SHIT! Why are people here? Who are the people here? Why... AAAARGH, oh FUUUUUCK YOU SALAADIN! I drop the baskets and step forth, dropping the concept of "human form" along with the baskets. All four stiffen and I can hear several hoarse Oijan curses as I wrap all four in copious tentacles, gagging them a moment later. It... does look more than a little suggestive to someone who's been to the internet, but right now, all I care about is to find out what the fuck is this. So... the first attempt at me had failed, and Salaadin in his infinite wisdom had decided that... Wait, no. According to the mental probing (I have four enemy combatants restrained, you bloody well believe I had tentacles in their brains by now.) and recovered documentation, the inspiration behind this dick move was the leader of hashishins. Old Man On A Mountain, as the sobriquet goes.

OK, this is... not going to work. They had two more people maintaining a base of operations nearby, and I could expect more to show up. Hashishins were nasty nasty pieces of work with one trait that made them absolutely insufferable - damn bastards never knew when it's time to give up. And I mean it, because all four continued to struggle even now. In the face of eldritch abomination casually slurping at their fucking brains, they were still trying to do something about it, instead of just breaking down and gibbering in despair like a normal person would. I form a bit of maw on each tentacle and bite through their upper spine tips absentmindedly, to settle them down. I'm not going to let any of them go, for obvious reasons, so there is no particular point in not paralyzing them. Pretty good eats, actually, a lifetime of ascetic physical training leaves people with healthy bodies, who knew?

I'm done with my impromptu meal twenty minutes later, strolling down the forest trail casually, a dripping sack in my hand. My plan was easy. By now, hashishins were likely aware that engaging me face-to-face was simply a fancy way to commit suicide, so they likely will pull back and regroup if I make a "threatening" move. I already knew, of course, that handing in four heads as a warning would not in fact make them back off. But most of the world would not think so much of their dedication, so it made sense for them to feign backing off and instead depart for reinforcements. And I am going to further "humiliate" messengers to make sure they need to go in person, of course.

So when I enter the encampment, I do so with fanfare and magic. Namely, disintegration magic. Everything not alive in the radius promptly splits into its component parts. Clothes fall into threads, knives become piles of rust, paper reverts to sawdust and water, leather.... just loses stitches holding the pieces together. I guess they will have something to cover themselves up, then. "Hello there." - I tell them with a bright smile, even as the two guys cross their hands over their groins and start backing off awkwardly. I toss the bloody bag in the middle of the encampment, close to the two fellows.

"Go back to Sultanate and tell Salaadin that if more assassins show up, I will alter the terms of curse from 'anyone armed' to 'anyone with a nose'. Now git." - tell them and turn around. Aaand one of the guys just sorta crosses the whole clearing in three giant leaps and grabs on to my neck from behind. Silly bean. I casually elbow him into the ribs on the right side, wince at the very audible crack and the half-choked cry of pain, and... he's not fucking letting go. Moron, stop, you're not even inconveniencing me.

"You do realize you're not strong enough to strangle me, do you?" - I quip, giving another three elbow strikes in quick succession. His entire right side is by now one deep bruise... and the idiot still hangs on. Fine, if that's how you want to play... I take a hold of his fingers and sloooowly pull them apart, breaking his palms in the process. "Now, what did that gain you, you abominable moron?" - I demand. The answer comes a moment later. Apparently they were smart enough to stash some supplies outside the camp, his friend is now sniping at me with a bow. Tossing aside the mutilated cretin, I ram a bolt of electricity through his fellow, making him gibber in place for a few moments, then fall over as uncontrollable convulsions and heat trauma end his life unceremoniously a few moments later. Sole survivor FINALLY seems to get the point when I kick him down (not that hard, mind, he's already dealing with several broken ribs and fingers). "I guess you lot must be particularly thick. So let me explain that again in small words. LEAVE. ME. AND. MINE. BE. OR. ELSE." - I tell him and finally leave. Goodness gracious, it seems that devotion is way higher on the list of desirable traits than brains in the assassin selection process.

Now I'm worried the sole survivor won't make it back. And I NEED him to make it back, because otherwise he's going to just deliver a payload of my matter (secreted inside the four heads masquerading as brains) to some random wilderness that he's going to die in. Thankfully Sultanate has a strong tradition for recovering their bodies for funeral rites whenever possible. Including available parts, like heads. Still, I like to double-hedge my chances, so a bunch of my matter is secreted through their remaining supplies (I did not disintegrate absolutely everything, come on. Just what they could immediately access. Armed and armored assassin feels much more confident than naked one. Not that it mattered much with that bunch.)

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It is curious, however, how I'm so exceptionally lucky to have had nabbed them just in time. Oh, they wouldn't be able to do anything to my family as is, I have more than enough of me hidden away masquerading as domestic rodents and odd knick-knacks throughout the household to end them decisively regardless of what they do, but still, having lucked on them just as they finished infiltrating through the attic window... Weird. (Note to self - try and talk to gods at some point. If they're indeed responsible for this, assume they're also subtly nudging odds in my favor in other cases. Offer treats.)

Getting back home is a non-issue, though I believe some people might find it odd that I just casually stroll out of the forests when it's common knowledge I'm in the capital well away from here. Dad's manservant notices me first. He usually does, Giacomo is an observant fellow. "Milady! We didn't know you're back." - he hastens to bow, - "Would you be joining your family for lunch?" I shrug and nod. Might as well, and the time is right, they're about to set the table. I pass a basket of treats to Giacomo and tell him to make use of it. He hefts it curiously, looks inside and breaks into a smile, promising to "make sure everything is presented appropriately". Might as well check up my old room. I'm using it as a document storage and backup study at the moment, during the few visits I paid recently. Hm... There's more stuff in here then... Oh. Oh, right. Dwarves insist on making some kind of present at each major milestone (as they perceive them). The newest addition is funny, however. An aeolipile designed to take in background magic. It takes no water, the reactive "mass" it expels to rotate is actually a stream of mana... Huh, that's pretty promising. Not quite the perpetuum mobile yet, but it can lead to some interesting developments. (Note to self. Make copies, give a copy to Lamand and have another one installed in my room as an inspiration to Moon Unit and Roxy. Maybe consider using the expelled manastream to enact some kind of comfort service, like... hm. Air ventilation? Air conditioning? I'm onto something here, I just know it.)

Ah well. Getting back to our muttons. I'm in the corridor outside the room just in time to hear boys questioning who else is going to be taking lunch. "Hello, everyone." - I offer, stepping into the room - "Don't mind me, just stopping by for a family visit on this fine Caturday."

"Sister, you're weird." - is the verdict of boys. Honestly, they grow so quick. Soon they'd be complaining about me putting cooties all over them. Heh.

"I know!" - I reply gleefully - "Jean-Paul, Antoine, have you been practicing your magic properly? I have a bit of free time today, so I'll show you some new tricks, if I'm satisfied with your progress."

Father raises his finger - "Actually, Alyssa, this is a good time for you to show up. I've been hearing about odd people poking around the estate from servants, so I intend to investigate..."

"Don't bother. Already found them and settled the issue. They will not be coming back." - I tell him. Gerard quirks his brow at me questioningly. I draw a finger across my throat and repeat - "They're NOT going to come back. Period." Considering that everyone gasps, stares or swears quietly, they all get what I said.

"This bad, huh?" - father drawls thoughtfully - "Do I need to increase security measures? Who are they, even?"

"Salaadin's pushback attempt. And not really, I have been in the area since morning. Plenty of time to scout things out and uproot any undesirables. You might want to tell the guards they might be finding some caches of arrows and assorted sundries in the forest. Tell them to be careful, hashishins might be boobytrapping them." - I explain - "They're not going to be a problem for much longer."

Dad moves to say something, looks me in the eye, swallows and sighs. "Gods, I never wished for you to see the ugly side of being a lord that soon." - he offers softly - "I had hopes for you never having to learn. I understand, though. We'll tighten security here a bit, just to keep folks on their toes while you sort them out. Any hints on what you're going to do?"

I smile. "Dad. The less you know about that, the better you will sleep." - I tell him, and he looks away with another muffled curse. Then chuckles wryly - "Your grandfather would approve. He would hate for you to need to know this, as well as I do, but he would be ecstatic to know his legacy is not forgotten." He is not wrong, per se. Philippe Gillespie was infamous for his lasting grudges and inventively cruel and thorough revenges. Forget revenge cycles, families he feuded with entered extinct lineage listings with terrifying regularity, and usually in a way that made one facepalm and think 'Welp, there goes another Darwin awardee.'

Mother clears her throat. "Dears. While I'm glad we're so ferociously protected, let's.. not discuss this further over the meal, alright?" - she offers, and honestly, I'm entirely in agreement with this. Things are already handled anyways. And that's when I remember something.

"Mom? Do you have some free time today?" - I ask her - "I had some additional ideas about womanly products you might want to add to your perfume line. Lip balm, for example."

She leans in, suddenly radiating intense interest - "OOh? Do tell, dear. Lip balm sounds intriguing."

"Well, you know how in winter your lips can crack from the cold? These sores can be prevented with a coat of pleasantly tasting wax composite, I have found." - I suggest to her - "Other than that, there is an intriguing line of research into colored lip balms. I know for a fact some women resort to berry juices to make their lips appear redder and more luscious. Colored balm should do that and protect one from cold sores in the same time."

She claps her hands excitedly - "That sounds very useful, darling. What else? Actually, wait, don't tell me. Why don't we have a bit of, ah... study session after the lunch? You can show me all those interesting new compounds you've thought about without boring the boys."

I nod to her. "Certainly. Oh, before I forget." - I did bring something over for dad and boys. A little present, if you will. "Here you go." - I offer as I give each of them a spyglass. Father turns it around in his fingers curiously.

"What is this, Alyssa?" - he requests, after initial examination fails to give him a clue. I chuckle and explain how to use the device. Before I know it, all three men are practically glued to the window, looking at all sorts of distant sights. Sharing a bit of commiserating look with mother, I pass her a good magnifying glass. She won't need a spyglass much, given she prefers to stay at home, but a magnifying glass can prove useful for many small tasks. ...And she's examining the top crust of breadroll with considerable interest. "I never realized just how much detail is hidden in plain sight..." - she murmurs wonderingly.

Family time - a big success. Making a note here.