Pattis had killed a lot of people in his life, but his favorite was Guildmaster Pietro. He had found a poison that stopped a person’s heart, but it needed to be administered in such large quantities that it was almost impossible to deliver effectively.

Every day for two weeks Pattis manned a stall near Founders Park and asked to share an apple with the old Guildmaster. The old man smiled and happily did so every day, commenting on the day he died that he quite enjoyed his new ritual of stealing an apple from the stall near Founders Park.

He said the words with a hearty laugh, which made Pattis laugh himself. He was killing the most beloved man in Ness in front of everyone, and no one was the wiser. When Pietro died, Pattis felt a little sad that he wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet him near Founders Park and continue to poison him.

Pattis wasn’t sure if Orion would become his favorite assassination, but he was certain it had a chance. Orion was just as dumb and trusting as Pietro, so the challenge wasn’t in succeeding, the challenge was in doing it as creatively as possible.

The plan was audacious. Pattis was going to stab Orion to death in his own Tower, leaving behind a knife that could be traced back to Polo. Getting in unseen, completing the assassination in Orion’s sanctuary, getting out unseen, and then blaming another guild? Pattis would smile about this mission for a long time.

Orion was quite public, and getting an audience with him was generally not hard for higher ranked Guild Members. Pattis was a highly ranked Merchant Guild member, and with the relations between the two guilds, arranging a meeting wasn’t difficult. The hard part was creating a trail that looked false and connected the name to Polo, not Larsen. By the time he walked into the Craft Tower, those pieces were in place.

“Name and business with the Guildmaster?” The guard at the gate sounded almost bored as he asked the questions.

“Corian with the Merchant Guild. I need to discuss accounts with the Guildmaster.”

“Discussing accounts” was so vague that Pattis had practiced a series of more detailed explanations, depending on how difficult the guard was. To his shock, the guard let him through.

“The Guildmaster’s assistant is on the second floor. He will take you to him.” And with that Pattis was inside the Craft Tower.

On the second level, the assistant appeared just as bored as the guard. “The Guildmaster sees many people. Please stick to the facts of your discussion. If the Guildmaster dismisses you, you are to leave immediately. There is no discussion and no objection to his decisions.”

“Of course,” Pattis replied.

“The Guildmaster will see you now.”

“Now?” Pattis looked to see if anyone had exited or if someone within the room behind the secretary had indicated that the Guildmaster was free, but there was no one. Apparently, Pattis was one of the few visitors that day.

Without even replying to Pattis’ question, the assistant waved a hand over his shoulder, indicating that Pattis should continue onward.

To his shock, the room was completely empty. Orion was so lax about his security, that he trusted the entire city to honor him. It was a moderately sized room, and Orion didn’t sit on a throne or even a dais. There was a desk at the end with two comfortable looking chairs facing it.

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Between the door and the desk were rows of seats. The room looked like a combination of Larsen’s office and a theater. Pattis approached the desk. He didn’t plan on killing Orion immediately. He wanted to arrange Orion’s death in a way that the Guildmaster had no opportunity to scream.

“Sit. I always welcome friends from the Merchant Guild.” Orion smiled. “You sell our goods!”

Pattis closed the distance and sat in one of the chairs. “It is an honor, Guildmaster.”

“We honor each other with every meeting,” Orion replied. Pattis hated such empty sayings and was tempted to stab Orion then and there. “But we cannot talk without a toast. It is required of everyone I meet for the first time.” Orion lifted a cup already filled with wine and handed it to Pattis.

“Thank you,” Pattis replied as he sniffed the wine. It smelled fabulous.

“To friendships between guilds. May they become even stronger.”

They clinked glasses and Orion drank his entire glass. Pattis took a sip, but as he prepared to put his glass down, Orion frowned. “We cannot talk until you drink your full glass. It is the tradition.”

Pattis smiled and drank his wine, holding the glass in his left hand as he tapped the hilt of his knife with his right. Needing to get next to Orion, Pattis said, “Before we talk, may I offer you a gift?”

Orion stared at Pattis intently but didn’t say anything. The stare made Pattis uncomfortable. Or maybe it was the wine. Pattis felt his stomach tighten. Am I nervous? No, he wasn’t nervous. He never got nervous. He just suddenly wasn’t feeling well.

“It’s okay,” Orion said with a smile. “It takes time. Right about now you will be wondering why you feel odd. It’s because you are slowly losing the ability to move. It starts with your stomach for some reason, and one can’t quite understand the feeling so you consider it as sickness, but you’ll understand it soon enough.” Orion laughed. “Look, your hands have already fallen to your side. You can’t move them.”

Pattis couldn’t understand what was happening to him, but Orion was right—he couldn’t move his hands or arms. Poison. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Pattis. Blade of the Merchant Guild. How foolish you are.”

“H- h-,” Pattis tried to speak, but his jaw was no longer working.

“How did I know you were Larsen’s Blade? My goodness. He is a dear friend of mine, didn’t you know? He let it slip back when you assassinated Pietro. He was very proud of you.” Orion stood up just as Pattis fell forward, his head slamming against the desk before he slid to the side and landed on the floor.

Pattis worked through every possible scenario of escape, but there were none. His entire body was limp, and his breathing was suddenly becoming more difficult. He could still see, however, and he watched as Orion’s black leather shoes with a bright yellow decorative strip stopped in front of his face.

“Your arrogance and stupidity is nearly as great as Larsen’s.” For the first time, Pattis could hear an edge to the old man’s voice. It was calm but with a tinge of anger that made it even more frightening. “You fool! You thought you could assassinate me in my office? You couldn’t even assassinate me in Founders Park.” The tip of Orion’s shoe slid forward and under Pattis’ cheek. Orion raised his foot, and Pattis could see Orion’s face. “Don’t feel bad. You aren’t the first to underestimate me.”

Pattis’ chest started to tighten, and he had to labor to breathe. He knew he was going to die, and his promise to himself—that when his death arrived he would take whoever killed him with him—turned out to be empty.

“I could show mercy, of course, but I prefer to watch you suffocate to death. It is such a horrible and embarrassing way to die, is it not? To stop it all you need to do is… take… a… breath. So simple to do, and yet… here you are.”

Pattis breathing ceased, and he knew his life was about to end. The gods would ignore him, of course. His life had been too violent, too evil. Perhaps Larsen would avenge him.

“Ah, your eyes close. You will be joining Larsen soon. Yes, your mission was not only your downfall, it was for a Guildmaster who wouldn’t even be alive to see its success.”

Things started to fade, and Pattis found the certainty of death calming. He had very few regrets as his life ended, but one was that he had chosen the wrong side.