The end of the next semester came faster than I anticipated. There was little to do regarding the Cedric issue until we got our two weeks away from the academy. I made sure that Franklin sent a letter expressing interest in the next shooting contest to Cedric’s house early so that I was guaranteed to get a response.

There was no reason for Cedric to suspect that I was looking into him, so he happily accepted my request and invited me to drop by on the day of the game. I put on my best all-weather coat and some matching pants and headed out in the carriage to see what trouble we could get into.

Adrian was waiting for me at the front of the house. Cedric’s home was less ostentatious than his, but not for the lack of trying. According to Adrian, his Uncle was even more insecure than he was, which was both worrying for his welfare and a promising sign of Adrian reflecting on his behaviour.

“What a wonderful day for some shooting,” he joked as I approached the front porch.

“That it is. The cloud cover is perfect and the weather is clear.”

Adrian and I planned this entire day out before we arrived. We’d draw our lets in the contest, and I could pick my opportunity to slip away from the crowd and look for some compromising information. Nobody would think twice about a single attendee disappearing for a few minutes. Adrian knew where the office was.

“I suppose I’ll have to say hello to your Uncle before we get to work.”

Adrian escorted me through the house and into the back garden, where the competition was being held. It was a fairly long walk from the building to the area designated for shooting – but not so long that I couldn't get away and return in time for my turn at the stand.

It was a party. Servants were on station to offer whatever the guests desired. A table with food and drinks had been laid beneath the gazebo, along with places for the audience to sit and observe the day’s sport in comfort. No less than sixty or seventy guests were already here at this early hour of the day.

Cedric was all too eager to greet me, emerging through the bustle of the crowd.

“Maria! It’s been too long.”

I curtseyed with the edge of my coat, “It has. Thank you for permitting my selfishness. I understand that I sent my request on fairly short notice.”

He smiled, “I’m always glad to have you at these get-togethers. You always put on a good show for the other visitors. I was starting to wonder if you were sick and tired of winning all the time.”

“It wouldn’t be gracious of me to say something so bold. I’ve been occupied with study at the academy, and I’ve also recently found an affection for tennis.”

“I’m not a fan, personally.”

“I felt the same before I engaged with it. Lance Franzheim can be a very persuasive man with that soft-spoken voice of his. He has me visiting the club room every other day to help him with this or that.”

Cedric offered a polite laugh in response to my meaningless anecdote. As if there wasn’t already enough reason to detest these parties – the simple fact that nobody actually cared to speak to one another was the fundamental rot that turned them into a practice of playing a part rather than enjoying it. He didn’t care. He was laughing because it was ‘polite’ and showed that he was listening.

I smiled at Cedric, “I haven’t lost my passion for the sport. It was during an animated debate at the academy that Adrian suggested that we compete again.”

He had no reason to doubt the sincerity of my story, even though it was completely made up and agreed between us before we arrived.

Cedric loved hosting these shooting competitions. He had an area of his garden cleared especially for them, and had all of the equipment, ammunition and standardized shotguns that he needed to host them at a moment’s notice. Whether it was down to the elbows he could rub or an honest enjoyment of the game was left entirely to interpretation.

I liked Cedric’s house the most because it was a great place to pilfer ammunition without anyone noticing. Cedric finally turned his attention to Adrian, who was standing silently and observing our conversation from the side-lines.

“You don’t seem to be all that energized, Adrian. Is something amiss?”

“No. I’ve been busy lately, so I’m preserving my effort for the contest.”

Cedric was astonished to hear that Adrian wasn’t going to barrage me with his usual complement of challenges, insults and boasts. It was as if he’d woken up one morning and the sky had turned green.

“And besides – aren’t you always telling me to grow up?”

I sent a look his way. He needed to stop being so overtly hostile to Cedric.

Cedric gave a fake laugh, “I suppose I did. How are you holding up?”

“It’s difficult,” Adrian replied plainly. He was trying to keep a cool head now that I was staring at him. “There’s a lot about running a business that I never considered before. My Father understated it.”

Cedric sighed, “I kept telling him to take your education more seriously. I had a bad feeling as soon as he sent you away to that academy. We can only hope that you successfully steer the family’s legacy through these choppy waters.”

“I’ll try.”

Cedric’s attention was pulled away by another group of visitors arriving from further up the garden. He left Adrian to stew on those words. It was obvious what he was trying to do. He was blowing smoke into his head and trying to make him doubt his ability.

“Shall we draw our lots?” I said.

We walked to the shooting area, where another table was set up with a box that contained two dozen pieces of finely engraved wood. Each one had a number, and were used to determine in which order each participant would step up and take their shot at the target. A servant manned the station and kept track of who drew what.

I landed with number five. Adrian got nine. That was just fine by me. Each shooter would step up, load their gun, and have the opportunity to shoot down three pigeons per round, with three rounds per person. An additional sudden death game could be played if competitors tied. This wasn’t the type of format that they awarded trophies for like the ones I had back home. It was for entertaining guests who found the idea of actual competition terrifying and alien.

I could easily slip away after my first turn, and then come back before they called my named for the next round. It would take them around an hour to work through all of them, not to mention any pedantry or delay they decided to inject into the proceedings.

“We’re both shooting early,” I commented. The servant noted down our names and places, before taking the wooden pieces and placing them into a second box to separate them.

“Let’s get this over with.”

We found a quiet spot to hide at and waited for our names to be called. The food was pretty good, so I wasted most of my time sneaking stuff away from the buffet table and chowing down next to the gazebo. Adrian was too nervous to eat.

“I have no idea how you manage to act so casually when we’re planning to do something so dangerous.”

“If you think that I don’t worry about the outcome, then you’re mistaken. Conquering one’s fear is a fantastic way to secure your death. It’s an emotion that we possess for a good reason. Besides – what we’re doing here does not carry that much risk.”

“And if he decides to kill me because I’m snooping around?”

“Very unlikely. I’m going to be the one doing it.”

My words were never going to instil Adrian with confidence in what we were planning, which was why I was going to handle the difficult stuff and break into his Uncle’s office while he kept him busy at the party.

After counting up the entrants and double-checking the equipment, the contest got underway. I stood back and observed as the first four shooters did their parts, with three succeeding in scoring perfect rounds. When it was my turn to shoot, the crowd watching suddenly paid very close attention to every move I made. There were a lot of comments about how graceful and refined I was – if only they’d seen me with two black eyes and a busted lip.

I took the shotgun, loaded my shell, and took aim. The servant across the way pulled down on the lever and a single clay plate flew through the air in a long arc. I tracked it using the sights and bided my time until the perfect moment. With a single pull of the trigger, the plate shattered into dust. The crowd applauded. The next two were similarly easy for me to hit.

I broke the shotgun’s chamber open and handed it to the attendant so that they could prepare it for the next shooter. Adrian was waiting for me by the gazebo.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Are you going to go now?”

I shook my head, “I’ll wait until you’ve had your first turn. I suspect that Cedric thinks we’ve become good friends, and trotting out the bathroom excuse isn’t going to work so soon.”

I observed the other rounds, with the visitors achieving varied levels of success.

“Number nine, Adrian Roderro!”

The noise picked up again as the prodigal son approached and took the gun into his palms.

“Pull!”

He braced the butt of the gun against his shoulder and closed one eye. He looked to be in good form, with a solid stance and a good lock on the target as it sailed through the air.

It was an easy shot to hit. The trajectory of the clay pigeon, the lack of wind, and the overcast skies keeping the sun out of his eyes. This was a rudimentary challenge for Adrian – who obsessed over shooting. He took a moment to line up. In my zeal, I failed to notice that some of the nobles in attendance were speaking while he was at the plate.

Which is why it came as a surprise to see him pull the trigger and miss. The pigeon flew across the garden and landed somewhere out of sight, still intact. Adrian stared at the smoking barrel of his gun with an equal sense of disdain. I perked my ears up and discovered that those rudely chatting onlookers were talking about Cathdra.

“Why is he here? Cathdra should be ashamed of himself.”

“Did you hear about what happened? He looks so haggard.”

“I give him a month before he gives up.”

That was odd, considering they’d all accepted an invitation to a party hosted by his brother, but I’d long since accepted that none of these people acted rationally. They were a herd of sheep following along with what anyone said, as long as it was declared loudly and confidentially.

And then it happened again. The second pigeon also eluded him. For a moment I started to think that Adrian was going to be the first competitor to score zero points, but the third and final pigeon was not going to be passed up. He fired and deftly destroyed it in the manner which I originally expected him to.

Adrian walked back to my side with a face like a drowning puppy. I’d never seen him so dejected before. He usually let his failures roll right off his back, or he turned them into outraged motivation to try again later and finally prove me wrong.

“What was that? I haven’t seen you miss a shot that easy in years.”

Adrian bristled, “It was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing from where I was standing. You’re letting them get to you. I thought you had a frosty relationship with your Father – why are you getting so thrown off balance by those nattering fools speaking ill of him?”

“Because it isn’t about him. Whatever my Father did is passed down to me. I’ve been made to bear the responsibility of his decisions, even when I wanted nothing to do with Beatrice Booker in the first place.”

“Normally you’d let that kind of talk wash over you.”

Adrian disagreed, “Do you think that I never listened to the things people were saying about me? It’s hard to break their perception of you once they’ve become set in their ways and expect you to behave in a certain manner. Now it’s worse than ever. I’m not just a boorish child with a short fuse, but I’m now implicated in my Father’s malicious schemes.”

The next competitor was already moving towards the plate.

“We can talk about this later. I have to go to the washroom.”

Adrian nodded, “Fine.”

I moved around the back of the gazebo and tried not to draw any attention to myself as I powdered back up the hill and towards the house. Adrian had already filled me in on the layout, including where Cedric’s office was located. All I had to do was get in and out without being seen.

Since most of the staff were presently engaged in entertaining the guests and keeping the contest running, that was a simple task. The doors had been left open in case the guests wished to find some shade or use the bathroom, but that was like inviting me to have free reign of the entire building. I quickly checked the doors until I found one that gave way and allowed me to break containment.

The office wasn’t far off the beaten path. A simple oak door barred my entry. I pulled my lockpicking tools from my pocket and got down onto one knee so that I could see what I was doing.

The tools were overkill because this lock was about as secure as a wet paper bag. A simple rake attack was enough to jostle the pins into place and flip it open. I quickly pocketed my tools again and slipped inside before one of the servants found me where I shouldn’t have been.

There was no time to stand there and admire the décor. I hurried over to the desk and started searching for any information that could clue me into what he was doing. My search of the blackmail chest had me turning up empty-handed. Cedric was smart enough to keep his name off of their internal documents at the very least. I also couldn’t rule out the possibility that he wasn’t involved with them. There were a lot of groups out there who shared information, and if Cedric was only providing tips, then they wouldn’t have to include him in the plot on any grander level.

It was important that I kept all of his belongings where he’d left them. People were very good at noticing when someone had entered a room and moved things around, and that would arouse unwanted paranoia about who was looking into his business.

Cedric was working on a handful of different projects – but only one was notable enough in terms of scale to catch my eye at a glance.

“Church Walk Redevelopment Plan?”

There were no personal notes or documents attached, but it was obvious that this particular scheme was dominating Cedric’s attention. There was a list of investors and collaborators, but not the type I associated with criminal business. I shook my head as the list of names kept going and going and going. It was a veritable who’s who from every noble family in and around the capital city.

While that was helpful to know, there was no indication within the documentation that Cedric needed Adrian dead to get what he wanted out of it. It looked as if they were planning on buying up a bunch of property and land in the most deprived areas of the city. They could pump the prices up by coordinating the development and gentrifying the area.

Cedric had already put up a huge amount of his own liquid cash and even mortgaged some of his other assets to invest in the scheme. He was one of the biggest investors amongst some extremely affluent company. Killing Adrian would speculatively help him pay off his debts, but he was hoping that the return on his investment would cover all of that.

It all hinged on his tolerance for risk. There was a financial risk attached to a project as ambitious as this, but there was also the looming threat of being made an example of by the justice system in Adrian were to be harmed. The Cathdra incident had outraged the nation’s wider society. To them, it was a clear example of how there were two very different sets of rules depending on your social status.

In the runup to the trial – most commentators pessimistically believed that Cathdra would walk away with a comparative slap on the wrist. They were proven wrong when the prosecutors pushed for a harsh sentence and accused him of conspiracy to commit murder. Ten years behind bars was handed down, with a few being knocked off from the guideline because he confessed before the trial date.

The message was loud and clear. The justice system was not going to lose the faith of the populace by playing games with nobles like Cathdra. The increasingly diverse group of people in parliament and the courts meant that the dial was being twisted back to the middle. Nobles could expect somewhat equal treatment if they went out of step again.

Of course, the rub was whether the police had the will and clean air to investigate them in the first place. A law wasn’t a law if nobody was willing to enforce it, and the ground-level corruption that occurred when lots of money was thrown around was a key issue that the house was eager to take care of.

In an announcement soon after his conviction – the justice minister announced that more time and resources would be dedicated to crime prevention, targeting conspiracies and organized gangs before they could strike. It might have had something to do with the families of the men killed at the Theatre shooting lobbying for it, but the outcome was the outcome.

Getting caught was the key factor that determined someone’s willingness to commit a crime. The promise of more investigators and a more equal approach to justice was going to be a major deterrent to people like Cedric, who lived in relative comfort and didn’t want to risk it without a good reason.

The best course of action would be to probe Cedric for details. I wanted to get a read on how confident he felt about his investment in the plan. As of that moment, it was the only motivating factor I could see beyond his natural ambition. I double-checked the rest of the papers for details and memorized as much as I could.

With that done I hurried out of the office. I couldn’t lock the door without the key, so I pulled it shut and hoped that Cedric would write it off as him forgetting to do it before the party. All of his papers were in the same place as before. No harm, no foul.

I evaded the staff stalking the corridors and escaped back into the garden. Adrian was still in his spot by the gazebo when I returned.

“Back already?”

“Yes. Thankfully there was no line for the washroom this time around.”

“Any reading material?”

“There was! I took a look but most of them were useless. There was a large number of papers for a ‘Church Walk’ project.”

“I think I overheard some of them talking about that, some kind of property development deal they’re trying to cut in the city.”

“It looks as if they are aiming to purchase every piece of available property in the district – even the historical ones. One of the letters was between Cedric and an investor speaking about public messaging to counter a preservation group.”

“Why would they want to preserve that hellhole?” Adrian scoffed.

“They are not there to preserve the gang violence, idiot. Church Walk is filled with historic buildings, even if the rest of the area has suffered from severe deprivation over the years. Demolishing those religious sites would be a deadly blow to our collective history.”

Resistance from campaign groups and the reluctance of the residents who lived there to sell on would be hurdles for the project to overcome. Hellhole or not – some people identified very strongly with where they lived. Multiple generations of the same family would occupy a home and pass it down to each eldest child.

There was a large working-class contingent in Church Walk. Many of them travelled to the industrial area by the waterside on foot. If relocating threatened their jobs they’d also refuse to sell.

Adrian spoke up again, “Knocking everything down and building new homes and parks, even if they do all of that, Church Walk has a terrible reputation. I doubt that anyone would be willing to live there right away.”

“Maybe you’re correct, but your Uncle doesn’t see it that way. He’s leveraged a huge amount of his assets to become one of the lead investors. If it were to go wrong...”

“He’d be in rags,” Adrian murmured. It was an appealing prospect in his eyes.

I kept my voice low; “Surely being in possession of your family’s full business empire would provide a safety net for him. I could not find any direct evidence connecting him to the Monarchists and Scuncath.”

“That would be too easy. We have a starting point at least.”

Irritatingly, knowing this information meant that I’d have to rub elbows with the other attendees to try and catch if they were speaking about it. I came from a well-off family and my Father’s name wasn’t on the investor’s list, so it was probable that at least one of them would try to sneak a pitch through the back door and get it to him via me.

Before we could worry about that, it was time for me to have my second turn with the gun.

“Try not to humiliate yourself,” Adrian sniped.

“I’m not on the bottom of the score sheet right now,” I fired back.