Morning broke, and shadows hung under Jon’s eyes. He’d stayed awake the whole night, sitting on a velvet chair in the darkest corner of Alyssa’s room, waiting to say hello to the first intruders — but the Houses, it seemed, didn’t move as fast as he thought they would.
Instead, there was a quiet, faraway knock on the front door of the lobby. He knew it was the front door, because he’d memorized the specific sounds that the different surfaces that the Theater made.
He woke up Alyssa and told her about the knock.
“That’s odd,” Alyssa said. “Be careful.” If she could join him, she would, but she had to rest. Having seen what he was capable of the other day, however, she told herself that even if a SWAT team rushed in through the door, Jon would be the one to come out alive.
With a dagger in one hand and a pistol in the other, Jon made his way to the lobby and peeked through the various gaps in the boards covering the broken windows — and finally, through the cracks in the door. He confirmed a man in a white suit standing in front of the door, along with five of the Order’s knights behind him. They seemed a little tense, but their swords were sheathed, and they were keeping some distance away from the man in the suit.
Jon removed the barricades on the door and, with one hand, pushed it open, keeping a pistol behind him. He found himself face to face with a well-kempt man, hair swept back and a bleach-white suit proving that there wasn’t even a speck of dust on him. “Good morning, sir,” the man said. “My name is Devon Karswith. I’m an attorney working for the castle. May I come in?”
Jon eyed the man up and down. “What’s this about?”
The attorney shifted his feet. “Well, you see, sir, we have reason to believe that a certain Alyssa Rainsworth’s tax accounts are in question. After doing some investigation, we believe that she may be engaging in tax evasion.”
“Tax evasion?”
“That’s right, sir. According to royal laws, both the Theater d’Ravena and the Order of Luminas are obligated to pay 1% of their annual revenue in donations and business activities to the ruling lord of the city or province they are located in. In this case, the Theater’s books show some donations being made, and yet its outstanding balance continues to increase without limit.”
Jon just eyed him. “Tax evasion.”
“Yes, sir. Tax evasion.”
Silence passed between them for a moment. “If you would like,” the attorney offered, “we could discuss your options inside. Oh, of course, the Order’s knights will stay behind.”
Jon considered this for a moment. “Do you have an ID?”
The attorney cocked an eyebrow. “Is the Order’s trust not enough?”
“Let me know how a trusted ID looks like, then.”
The attorney shook his head once, taking an etched metal plate out of a card wallet. “Well, here you go.”
The card had clearly seen some wear and tear over the years. His name was clearly as indicated, Sir Devon Karswith, and he was clearly identified as a knightly legal consultant and public attorney.
Jon put a tiny amount of magic into the plate, and it clearly projected a holograph of the owner’s face; this magical feature was difficult to reproduce, and was as good as security tape when it came to confirming an ID’s authenticity.
Jon, however, knew a wig when he saw one. “Alright,” he said, “come in.”
The attorney smiled and stepped through the doors, but Jon stopped him and patted him down, finding a pencil and a fountain pen. Seeing that the pencil was obviously just a pencil, he took the pen and unscrewed the cap and flicked the pen around a little, and a little bit of ink came out of the nib, confirming that it really was just a pen. He gave it back to the attorney.
The attorney found this a little strange, but anyway, he took a step forward, only to find that Jon wasn’t moving from the door. “Aren’t we going to see Miss Rainsworth?” he asked. “This is mainly concerning her, after all.”
“She’s not feeling right. We can talk right here,” Jon replied. “How’s your work day usually like?”
The attorney’s eyes went wide. “My…work day?”
“I don’t know how castle attorneys work, so tell me.”
The attorney chuckled. “Well, if it helps. I — uh — wake up, greet the wife, eat breakfast. I don’t live far from the castle, so I just walk there — look, is this really necessary?”
Jon turned to one of the Order’s knights, standing closest to the door. “Buddy, if someone wears a wig, do they have it on or off for the head that shows up on the ID?”
The knight was a little flabbergasted that a killing machine talked to him out of nowhere. “Uh — off.”
It was at that moment the attorney thought, fuck it. He pulled out his fountain pen and unscrewed the cap. The nib, in reality, was made of a particularly hard alloy, and he’d worked hard to hone it, making it sharper than a surgeon’s knife. With practiced hands, he slashed forwards, hoping to nick Jon in the neck.
Jon turned and brought his arms up just in time. The slash nicked the outermost cloth of his suit’s cuffs, the titanium mesh underneath stopping it from going any deeper. Jon ducked low and left, moving under the attorney’s follow-up slash, and he jabbed at his jaw. The attorney dodged that, however, and they found themselves taking a little distance from each other. A single step would put them in range of the other.
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The knights, meanwhile, were at a loss. Clearly, the attorney had attacked first, putting Jon in the right here — but this was a highly trusted attorney! What could possibly possess him to attempt the murder of an agent of Ravena in broad daylight! Alas, they could do nothing to step in and arrest the attorney, as they were on the other side of the demarcation of the Theater, and they were of the Order. One unauthorized step inside would have them smote by at least one goddess.
The slight distance between Jon and the attorney spelled Jon’s advantage, as he whipped out a pistol and shot. The attorney saw the faint glow of the pistol’s magical trigger, however, and was able to duck out of the way before the gun ultimately fired. He closed the distance with a step, throwing a roundhouse kick, knocking Jon’s pistol from his hand.
He cut forwards, not only aiming for Jon’s face, but also his exposed hands. Jon moved back as he batted away the attorney’s first two slashes, throwing them out of their original lines of attack, but the third slash managed to nick him across the back of his right hand, causing blood to trickle from it like sap from a tree.
Jon switched tact and jabbed rapidly before sweeping the floor with his leg — all attacks which the attorney avoided. Still, this gave Jon the breathing room to pull out a dagger. With this, he slashed and stabbed, but the attorney hooked his hand with the pen knife and disarmed him.
In a dim flash, the pen disappeared from the attorney’s hand and reappeared in the other — one which was free. He slashed at Jon, who just barely managed to roll backwards, pulling the attorney down with him, and throwing him overhead.
That was close. Weapons teleporting from one hand to the other in close combat…changes things.
“Reaper!” one of the knights shouted. Jon didn’t look, but he tracked the sound of an arming sword whose handle came to a rest under his right hand. He rushed at the attorney with the sword. The attorney threw his pen, no-spin, at Jon’s face, and though Jon deflected the pen, it just teleported back into the attorney’s hand, and he threw it again!
Still, Jon reached the last pace, and he slashed down. Panic dawned on the attorney’s face, but even so, his movements remained practiced. His pen teleported back into a hand and he held it with both hands, pointing it straight at the edge of the incoming sword.
At the exact moment of contact, he pulsed magic into the pen — magic which focused onto the nib’s point, and then spread across the width of Jon’s blade.
The sword had perfectly stopped between the flanges of the pen’s nib, all momentum canceled. That one maneuver shaved a few weeks off the attorney’s life, but that was nothing to anyone in the same business as him.
Spending another few weeks of his life, he twisted the pen, and with it, the sword fractured, its fragments spilling sideways from them both.
Jon was unrelenting, however, and the attorney was surprised to find the man had already let go of his sword long ago, and was already springing up against his center of mass. As they both fell to the floor, the attorney stabbed him in the side multiple times, doing little more than messing up the weave of Jon’s suit.
The fight turned into a scuffle, with Jon trying to keep the attorney’s arms pinned, but the fact that his pen kept teleporting between his hands made things supremely difficult, forcing him to constantly defend his face with one arm.
It only took a single nick in the forehead to shift the advantage. Blood dripped across Jon’s right eye, blurring his vision. This was enough for Jon to miss the attorney’s leg which had wriggled free.
The attorney wrapped his legs around Jon’s neck, throwing him to the side, and now the positions were reversed. The attorney aimed for Jon’s eye, bringing his pen down with both hands. Jon shifted his head just inches out of the way, jabbing at the attorney’s face to distract him, giving him the opportunity to steal the pencil from the attorney’s chest pocket and stab at him.
The attorney recovered just in time to block this, and now both their wrists were locked in a bind: pencil against pen, both fighting to be driven into the other’s eye, both fighting to hook and disarm the other to shift the advantage.
Taking a page from the attorney’s playbook, Jon willed magic into his muscles, wishing for more power to compensate for his lack of leverage, and finally, he willed magic into the pencil. He wished for its point to royally blow up the first thing it stabbed.
The attorney had the same idea, and now the magic of their wills came into contact with each other, producing an ever-brightening glow where their wrists rubbed against each other.
It was the pen, however, which was coming closer to Jon’s eye. It was just an inch away, now, but not even being inches away from death deterred Jon. Being on the losing side wouldn’t ever be enough to make him stop doing what he was supposed to do.
“Jon!” Alyssa shouted. She’d entered the scene with two crutches and a few pistols floating behind her. She fired once, hitting the attorney in the side. The pain interrupted the attorney’s concentration, interrupting his magic, and in the end, Jon’s pencil drove into its target faster than a snap, the killing magic concentrated at its tip being unleashed like a small bullet, shooting in and out of the man’s brain, not unlike a 9mm from an executioner’s gun.
Jon rolled the dead attorney aside, the assassin’s wig falling off as he did, while Jon himself rolled the other way. He pushed himself up, then stood on unsteady legs — too unsteady.n
“Jon!” Alyssa shouted again, approaching him. “Magic? You used magic? How much? You have to rest. What happened here?” She looked to the knights who were watching. “You! How could you allow this!”
“The real one’s dead,” Jon said. He stood up from looting the assassin’s body, handing Alyssa the ID. She confirmed it to be authentic. “I know this man,” she said, looking at the body. “He’s wearing a paper face.”
Jon knelt down and grabbed the man’s face. It came off like taking a wet paper towel off a bar counter, revealing the real, scarred face of the man.
The Order’s knights were aghast. “We’ll” — the most senior among them took pause — “O-our apologies. We will report this appropriately and exactly and find the perpetrators” —
“The perpetrator’s right there, isn’t he?” Alyssa said, tilting her head at the body. “Whatever. Go. Run along.”
The senior knight bowed and briskly left with his men behind him. Alyssa rubbed her forehead. “What were they thinking, sending just one person against us?”
“He said you were in for tax evasion.”
Alyssa chuckled. “That’s true.” She looked back at the body. “Coming with the Order… They wanted to lock me away, most likely. Not a bad strategy. Send their lawyers first, and when that doesn’t work, the army — though, after today, I don’t believe they will make the first move. Not until we drive them to desperation, first.”
She shook her head and turned, hobbling along back to her room. Jon limped after her. As wounded as they were, at least one of them gained something today.
***
[“Charles Staball” is slain by your hand. You may lay claim to one Skill of his: Summon Scribetool.]
[Not much choice, is there?]]
Name: Jon Fuze
Level: 5
Kills: 51 → 52
Kills to Next Level: 1 / 25 → 2 / 25
Skill Proofs: 4
| Skill Claims |
> Hastened Sight (Unlocks Lvl. 10)
> Summon Scribetool (Unlocks Lvl. 5, READY)
***