Anders flounced down the street with a giddy expression the day the Great King Haridal died. The rumour mill had been predicting his death for weeks but Anders, thanks to the chain of gossiping servants serving the King, had been alerted the moment the poor bastard had passed away. Sickness most thought. The cooks had been serving lighter and lighter portions in recent months and the maids had been cleaning far too many bedsheets, stained with blood and other bodily humours Anders didn’t really want to think about.

Was it morbid Anders was so happy? Well, yes, he couldn’t really deny that. He had good reason though. With the King dead change, real change, would begin and that was something the nation sorely needed, in Ander’s incredibly important opinion. As he skipped along on his merry way Anders looked at the decrepit buildings and malcontents who dwelled within, cloaked in ragged cloth and dirt, seeing instead the work that needed to be done for something better. Maybe Mallory, the girl who glared at him from the bin she was scavenging wouldn’t have to do so. Maybe Delvin, the man leaning on a nearby wall leering at Mallory wouldn’t get into regular trouble with the guard for harassment. The slums of Farfeld, the capitol of the kingdom of Heregin, could be something other than slums. Something better. The people could build proper lives and he could, well, he’d probably still annoy them. Folks from every walk of life had something he’d like to know.

Anders nodded at a few of the men he passed by, sharing in a small fire they had lit to ward the cold away. He would have dearly loved to stop and ask after their reactions to the King's passing but first things first he had to find his brother.

Anders and Malcolm Calenhal shared three things. Their parents, Lord rest their souls, their bottle green eyes and their sandy blonde hair. Aside from that, they may as well have been polar opposites. Where Malcolm was tall and muscular Anders was slight and small. Malcolm moved with slow deliberation and Anders moved with a swift cunning that would often get ahead of him. Malcolm could also grow a much better beard. Anders never really liked that. Malcolm also, unlike Anders, had an actual job. Apprenticed to the Jasmine bakery in the north of the city. It was a steady, well paying and incredibly boring job.

Anders popped through the front door of the bakery, the bell above the door chiming lightly to tell someone had entered. The sandy haired herald of death, or the news of death, dropped his grin when the owner of the bakery, Kallum Jasmine, came in from the back of the store rather than Malcolm.

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“Not two steps ya dirty little rat. I ain’t havin’ you pilferin’ no treats ya hear me?” Kallum said, eyeing the dirty younger man with what was honestly righteous suspicion. Anders smiled back cheerily though. This was his brothers boss after all.

“Hi Kallum, I won’t be two minutes. I was wondering if I could speak to Malcolm or if you’d tell him I need to chat, when his shift’s over.” Polite but not too polite. Boss or no boss, Kallum Jasmine could still be summarised in one word. Not a nice word either.

“The lad left a moment ago to pick up a flour shipment from Hallis and Sons.” Kallum responded honestly. He knew quite well it was the easiest way to be rid of Anders. It worked too, Anders exited the bakery and started on down the street whistling as he went. Anders would try and catch his brother as Malcolm made his way back. Malcolm had probably been looking forward to seeing Elaine and had left early. Elaine was a pretty young woman with sable black hair and rose red lips. Standard beauty, right out of the romances. Not that many in this part of the city could read to know as much. Anders thought it was adorable how big a crush his older brother held in spite of being 25. He also understood it, most men who knew her had probably harboured affection for her to some degree. Single or no. Did Anders? Anders did not consider himself one of most men.

Within five minutes Anders was at the small storefront. A dilapidated sign, punished by wind and weather, hung declaring that the store was in fact Hallis and Sons, one of the few family owned stores in the capitol. Funnily enough they had no sons, only Elaine. It was common knowledge that the owner, Kallin Hallis, had been pressured to sell his store to the reigning trade conglomerate of the city, Talon Incorporated. Hallis resisted, prizing their independence, but business in the slums probably made it sorely tempting to give in and let the corporation have its way. Same with the bakery, now that Anders thought about it...

A tall, bald man wrapped in a lot of thick leather clothing, dyed with a stripe of blue horizontally across the breast, exited in a hurry, slamming the door open and rushing out, running but not quite at a flat out sprint. He caught Anders’ eye and his eye widened with alarm. The man hastened his run, getting farther away.

Anders continued on, cheer fading. He entered the door and heard another chime like at the bakery. Anders amused himself as he browsed the fresh fruit, meat and other produce on the shelves for a moment. Then another moment. A few more passed and Anders decided something was strange. Well, ok, something was obviously strange, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, assume the worst and then make a twat of himself. Normally someone would be on hand. Some might have waited a few moments longer but Anders now considered this an open invitation to snoop. He moved around the counter and into the back room.

There he saw his brother Malcolm cradling Elaine in his arms as he half turned to look at whoever had entered. Malcolm froze when he saw Anders, tensing up like a rabbit in a carriage headlight before relaxing and turning to face Anders proper. Elaine, gods, Elaine looked like she’d been hit. Hit hard. A trickle of blood ran from the edge of her lip and from her nose and the right half of her face was beginning to bruise already, right over the cheekbone.

Both started talking at once and Anders quickly lifted a hand for silence. “Looks like we both have to something to say. Best we say it somewhere that isn’t incriminating.”