Alistair saw some of Felix’s Baronblades through the window as the train slowed to a stop.

Ghost: this could be a problem.

“You think?”

“Just go, as planned.”

Alistair grabbed his things and headed in the opposite direction of everyone else, to the cabin at the front, he bumped into a man carrying a sleeping child.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man hissed, his words followed by some sort of bodyguard that moved between the Alistair and the man.

Ghost took over from there, the assassin delivering a sudden throat punch that had the bodyguard on his knees in a matter of seconds. He remained in control as he pushed through the crowd of suddenly frantic people, where he jumped out of the train and onto the platform.

Alistair: Why would you throat punch someone like that?

“You aren’t paying attention. He had a knife. His hand was on it.”

Alistair: The bodyguard was going to stab me because I accidentally ran into his employer? What in the fuck?

Ghost rushed toward the front of the train, the assassin navigating crowds, and slipping around people as they unloaded their luggage.

“The rich view things differently than the poor here, Alistair,” said under his breath as he slipped between a pair of crates. “Hopefully, you’ll understand this some day soon. He might not have stabbed you, or he might have. We don’t know. But we do know the justice system wouldn’t have done anything about it. That is neither here nor there. Aerial Burst. It is time.”

Ghost reached the tracks, which glowed with mana. He relinquished control to Alistair, who grabbed his wand, cast the spell, and catapulted into the air.

Ghost: You were supposed to cast Mistmeld first!

Alistair landed. He turned back to see three of the Baronblades reach the edge of the track. Brazen as ever, they jumped down onto the track and ran across it, the group rushing in his direction.

Alistair cast Mistmeld and charged in the opposite direction of the assassins.

Fwit!

Something sailed right past his head, mere centimeters away from cutting his ear off.

Fwit!

He saw a glimmer of something ahead, a throwing star as it hit a support beam.

Ghost: I’ve got it from here. These aren’t the Baronblades.

Alistair: What? Who are they?

Ghost: What I mean is they aren’t the Sixteen Baronblades that protect Felix. They are trainees. Look at their masks.

Alistair: How am I supposed to do that?

Ghost: A true Baronblade wouldn’t use a weapon in public, not because they give a shit about the public, but because they don’t want to get Felix in trouble. These ones are stupidly trying to make a name for themselves. Let me deal with them.

Ghost sheathed Alistair’s wand. He dropped low and pulled his sword out of the bag as he stared into the mist ahead.

Alistair: You’re not seriously going to fight them, are you?

“Watch and learn,” Ghost said as he drew the blade.

Fwitt!

Another throwing star sailed overhead as Ghost crept forward.

Alistair wasn’t in control of his body, but he noticed something as Ghost pressed closer to the ground—Alistair didn’t feel afraid at all. Instead of worrying about what was set to happen, he was actually able to observe Ghosts’ movements from his own eyes, almost like he was doing it himself.

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Like a panther on the prowl, Ghost remained hidden in the mist as one of the Baronblade hopefuls came forward. He moved on her quickly and slashed his sword across the front of her body. Ghost ran it threw her stomach and tossed her to the side with utter disregard.

Yet again, he was back on the prowl, low to the ground as one of the other Baronblades cried out. “Mirad? Mirad!”

The woman, who was slowly dying, whispered the man’s name as her fingers flitted across the wound Ghost had given her.

The trainee removed his mask. “Mirad!” he said, bringing her into his arms.

Ghost slipped behind him and placed both hands on the grip of his blade.

Alistair couldn’t look away, there was no way for him to do anything but watch Ghost cut the man down.

The man smacked against the pavement. Ghost kept his blade down, the mist still strong enough to shield him.

He drew Alistair’s wand.

Ghost: You get the last one. Shimmer and strike. This is your chance to prove to yourself that you can do this.

Alistair: Fuck.

Ghost: I believe in you. They attempted to kill you. Felix will not suspect that we were the ones that did this; he will assume it was a rival. This is good. The higher his anxiety levels, the easier it will be for us to bring him down. I know you’ve seen him several times now. There have even been times where you thought you were alone with him. You weren’t. Felix is protected at all times. We will exploit that. Now, focus.

Alistair: Fine.

Ghost: Do you think you can do this?

Alistair: I think I can.

Ghost: Good. Always remember that the enemy would do the same to you. There is no mercy in our line of work. We won’t be ruthless, but we will be decisive.

The final Baronblade trainee appeared, his form visible in darkened mist.

Alsitair mentally prepared himself for what would come next. They had practiced this, using Shimmer and following up with a sword strike. Holding the blade in one hand was still heavy, yet it was doable.

Ghost: Just like we practiced. This one might be a bit smarter than the others. Noticed he hasn’t called out to them.

The final Baronblade trainee stepped over to the fallen bodies. His mask remained on his face as he slowly turned, the man with his sword drawn.

Ghost: Now!

Alistair turned his head, clenched his eyes shut, and hit the man with Shimmer.

“Ah!”

He rushed toward the assassin and delivered the strike he had practiced dozens of times now against aerwhisps. It was much different cutting into a person than it was a hovering cloud, yet Alistair dropped his wand and continued striking the man, hacking away at him, the man failing to defend himself as blood spritzed the air.

Ghost: Don’t torture him. Finish it!

Alistair brought the sword back and jutted it forward, just as Ghost had shown him.

“Who…?” the masked man tried to make sense of Alistair as his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.

Ghost: Get your wand.

Alistair lowered his sword. He couldn’t stop shaking.

Ghost: You did good, but we have to make sure they’re dead. We can’t leave any evidence that it was you who did this. The mist is fading. This will only take a moment. Just try to relax while I handle this. Good work, Alistair.

****

His sword and dagger tucked away at a tavern known as The Dragon’s Whisper, Alistair approached Felix’s mansion and was stopped by the guards outside.

“I’m expected,” he managed to say in a steady voice.

“State your name,” A woman told him.

Alistair could tell now, up close, the difference between her and the Baronblade trainees back at the station. It was in the way she stood, and the mask she wore on her face, which resembled plated armor.

He cleared his throat and tried to sound confident. “Alistair Blackstar. I have my wand with me.”

“Stay here.” The woman spoke to another guard, who nodded for Alistair to enter.

“Come through. Felix has said you are allowed to keep your wand on you,” the man said.

Ghost: He really trusts you that much? Something is off.

Alistair: What do I do?

Ghost: Do what they tell you.

“Just, um, tell me where to go.”

Rather than say anything to him, the woman motioned for Alistair to follow her. As he walked up a pathway lined with statues, Alistair noticed yet again how tight his clothing was. He now wore the suit that Felix had provided for him, and it felt like he would be able to stretch his shoulder blades back and rip the velvet jacket.

The woman led him to a waiting room, where there was an invitation on the table. A different Baronblade stood in the room near a bookshelf. He was short, yet Alistair could see how muscled he was through the man’s clothing. “Please, take a seat,” he told Alistair once the female Baronblade left. “You will be called when the meal is ready. Your quarters are being prepared.”

“I don’t need to stay here tonight.”

“Please, take a seat.”

Alistair sat, his eyes naturally jumping to the folded invitation. “May I?”

The man nodded.

The front of the invitation had the food that would be served that night. Upon opening it, Alistair gasped at the site of the guest list.

Ghost: Why?

Alistair: I don’t know. But this isn’t good.

He scanned the guest list again and saw that it included a man named Dario Underghast and Professor Salem Moros.