Earlier that night, in the village of Row:
Two travelers strode into the subdued settlement in the valley of the Long Fang Mountains. The twin peaks curled around it like the maw of an ancient beast, their jagged ridges glinting in the Tower-light. Scents of pine and the acrid tang of wood smoke hung heavy in the air.
Along the streets, patrolmen moved in a dreary rhythm; shoulders slumped under the Warlord Karich Urough’s rule. Dust rose from their tired footsteps, settling in the cracks of splintered wooden beams and sagging rooftops. Every inch of the place bore the scars of its master’s iron grip, from crumbling walls to the quiet sobs within its shuttered homes.
Making her way down a forlorn street was a woman in stark contrast to Row's hollow-eyed inhabitants. She moved with a purpose that turned heads and widened eyes, her silhouette sharp and striking against the backdrop of decay. Dressed in all black, a flat-brimmed hat crowned her tall frame, and her blonde hair flowed in wild disarray beneath it. The outfit she wore was of glaringly expensive make. Its blouse sported a plunging, collared neckline and billowing unbuttoned sleeves. A long cape draped across her back rippled with her alluring movements. Her impeccably pressed pants looked fresh from the tailor's rack, hugging the lithe curve of her hips.
Trailing behind her was Rhody, a girl on the verge of adulthood, clothed in the gray woolen robes of an acolyte. Her petite frame struggled against a pack suited for a circus strong-man. Her every step was an effort as she adjusted the heavy straps digging into her shoulders. It bulged with equipment: munitions, spare clothing, and Zeph's leather-bound log book tucked into a side pocket. Around her neck was a silver chain. A flame-red pouch hung at its end, swinging beneath her.
The girl’s soft features and nervous glances marked her in deep contrast to Miss Calm and Collected. The black-clad bombshell strutted forward without a care, daring anyone to stand in her way.
“Zeph,” Rhody called, her voice strained with exertion. “Can we… slow down? Just a little?”
The woman didn't even turn her head. “Slowing down,” she said, “is for people who haven’t got a warlord to kill."
Her terse statement cut through any objections Rhody harbored. The girl pulled her inky-blue locks into a ponytail and trudged on, trying her best to keep up.
Ahead, a group of six patrolmen rounded a corner, their spears popping against the packed dirt ground. Their steps faltered as they took in the tall figure striding toward them.
“Halt!” barked one of the men, his voice cracking. He leveled his quivering spear with all the grace of a newborn calf. Battling his anxiety, he tried to steady it.
One of the rear guard nudged another, "Theod's report... that's her, the Ace of Swords..."
As Zeph walked on, Rhody’s feet rooted in place, her breath caught between panic and disbelief.
The acolyte's hands fumbled around the pouch of her silver necklace, unclasping it and sliding out a tarot deck. The pristine cards were backed in midnight blue with a sprinkling of gold-foiled stars. Eyeing the spear-man, her left palm cupped the deck. The shaking fingers of her right snapped up the top card. Turning it to her eyes, its face was a glossy white, without suit or rank. She let out a small sigh of relief before moving her attention to the next patrolman. Zeph shot Rhody a quick glance. "None of these whelps warrant a reading; put those away and ready yourself, like we discussed."
The patrol’s lead stepped forward, his weapon poised at Zeph’s chest. “You’ll go no further. Row's got a curfew; anyone breaking it’s to be imprisoned and lashed ---Karich’s orders!”
Zeph’s eyes dropped to the shaft in his hands, and she grinned—a toothy, predator's grin. Her gaze flickered, measuring him. “You’re going to subdue me with a stick?”
The patrol leader inched the razor-sharp head of his spear closer, its tip tapping a button on Zeph's blouse. “You’re going to subdue Zepharin, the next Queen of Assassins, WITH A STICK?!”
The man stuttered, “A-a spear.”
Her hand blurred into motion. One moment, it hung loose at her side; the next, it pointed a silvered revolver at his spear's shaft, just beneath its tip.
The man’s eyes snapped to the word “APPLAUSE” engraved into its barrel. BANG. A shower of splinters pelted his face, and he reflexively turned away, his shout of surprise swallowed by the echoing crack.
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“What spear!?” She cackled as Applause's recoil whipped her arm around her like an orbiting celestial body, its revolution ending against the side of his head. The impact landed with a deafening clang, his helmet flying loose as he crumpled to the ground.
Chaos erupted. The remains of the patrol lunged forward as Zeph sidesteps their rush, more dancing than fighting.
BANG.
A single shot rang out, shattering a second spear.
BANG, BANG.
The fragments of a third and fourth scattered to the ground.
One of the guards rushed her from the side, but she twisted on her heel, her cape flaring out like a raven's wing. The man, dazzled, didn't register the heel of her thigh-high boot zipping toward his throat.
She moved like a river cutting through stone, her strikes precise and efficient.
BANG. Applause belched smoke and fire as she dismantled the patrol’s defenses, shattering their weapons and resolve with little effort.
Shouts rose from around the village, growing louder as lanterns flickered to life in nearby houses. Curtains rustled as wary eyes peeked out, their owners unwilling to intervene but too curious to turn away.
“Zeph, I think we should start moving!” Rhody's shrill voice called out while she searched for an escape route. Her trembling legs and the weight of her pack conspired to keep her still.
Lantern light danced between the surrounding buildings, casting long, jittering shadows across the uneven walls and streets.
BANG.
"Empty!" Zeph shrugged and tossed the hot revolver over her shoulder. Duty overcoming her, Rhody rushed forward to catch it with a startled yelp, fumbling to reload the weapon.
Zeph snatched a discarded spear from the ground, twirling it like a marching baton in a lazy figure-eight.
“Why are you fighting the whole town!?” Rhody shouted, her fingers fumbling around the ammunition. “Aren’t assassins supposed to be subtle?”
“What, who told you that!? An assassin’s supposed to be notorious. How would a subtle assassin even find work!?” Zeph retorted, her voice filled with indignation as she ducked beneath a wide swing and swept the legs from under a new arrival.
The patrolmen continued to fall until only one remained, useless, like the tip of a busted spear. His knees buckled and dropped as Zeph approached, her arm reaching for his paltry weapon. He offered no resistance as she slid it from his hands.
She tossed it aside and held out her now empty palm. The acolyte returned Applause, its belly full, to its rightful place.
“Now,” Zeph said with a sugary lilt. “My assistant Rhody's going to ask you some questions.”
The man nodded, his lips trembling as Rhody shuffled forward, flipping open Zeph's logbook. The black cover of the leather-bound tome peeled away like an old scab, revealing rows of names. Each was dressed with a thick line through its middle. Line after line of past marks marched across the page, then another page, and more others, leading to six names that remained untouched, the first of which was Karich Urough.
“Keep’s defenses?” Rhody asked, her pencil poised. Her tone was clipped but steady now, her earlier nervousness replaced by a determined calm.
The man stammered out everything he could recall: guard rotations, entrances and exits, and directions to Karich’s chambers. Zeph, disinterested, tapped the barrel of Applause against her thigh.
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Wrapping up the interrogation, Rhody hoisted her pack and returned to Zeph’s side. “Okay, I think I’ve got a plan.”
Zeph raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “First step?”
“It seems our best shot of entering the Keep unscathed is through its roof.”
“Alright, prepare the hook.” Zeph started trudging toward the peaks in the distance, intent on the Keep lying between them. The towering structure seemed to pulse with menace, its jagged parapets slicing into the night sky.
“Wait, don’t you want to know the—”
“Rhody!” Zeph said, “Don’t pull my focus.”
“But-”
“No buts.” Zeph tossed her head, her golden locks spinning behind her. “Just keep up.”
Zeph strode away, casting a long shadow across the dusty ground. Rhody groaned and pocketed the logbook, trudging on.
Looking up at the tall walls of the Keep, she couldn't hold her tongue, “You don’t expect me to climb rope with this pack on?”
“You’ll figure it out," Zeph called over her shoulder. "Father Herus said you’re resourceful.” She glanced back, her grin sharp and unapologetic. “Now hurry up. I want to claim this mark at daybreak. That’ll read better in the papers.”
Behind Zeph and Rhody, the village lay silent again, though its inhabitants remained restless. Children peeked from their hiding spots, their wide eyes following the gunslinger and her retainer as they vanished into the distance.
Above, the shadow of the Long Fang Mountains’ Keep loomed large, the faint sound of the wind whispering promises of challenge and glory.