Job Done, That's All

Beruka flew through the sky on the back of a nameless wyvern, and tried to focus.

It was harder and harder lately. All those… emotions. Once she'd kept her wyvern nameless because it was nameless, and there was no need to complicate anything more than it had to be complicated. Even when Camilla suggested something, even when Camilla's husband suggested something (the lunatic. Lunatic! She'd never made judgements like that before) she could just ignore it as unimportant.

Now she needed to keep her wyvern nameless as a point of pride. Pride. Complicated. Like everything else these days, if she let it be. She should focus.

She was married now. Married was expensive. Silas was wounded in battle with Garon. Wounded was expensive.

Work dealt with expensive.

Camilla was gone, which meant old work was gone. Beruka needed new work. The only work she knew was assassination. Assassinations would deal with expensive. Simple.

Emotions, of course, tried to make things complicated. Beruka frowned a little more than usual. She was glad for them, but… complicated. If she was still empty, she could just look around Nohr and hunt targets. If she was still empty, Silas's opinions wouldn't matter.

If.

Beruka shook her head. If didn't matter. If was just part of the complicated. She wanted to help her husband. She didn't want him to hate her for what she'd done. Therefore, she'd work where he wouldn't find out.

Hoshido was nice this time of year, after all.

She'd done her prep work. Preparation was key for a freelancer, and all the years with Camilla and all the new… complications wouldn't erase years of practice. Hoshido claimed to be a kinder land than Nohr. Perhaps it was true. Beruka had no particular fondness for her home. But Hoshido had its share of desperate citizens, and that meant a market. She'd heard enough in the war to know their assassins were reserved for the upper class, private retainers to ensure things remained smooth and efficient. They had their feuds and their honor, their price. Nothing the common citizen knew. Nothing to do with daily life.

In other words, there was a market that was not being served. And she could provide.

She had provided already. A few establishing contracts, enough to draw attention, even if the pay was lower than she'd like. Legbreaking, mostly. A few shakedowns. Not her real work, not what she was best at, but it gave her enough of a name that she could have some work worthy of the name.

And now she was meeting the real client. The one who could actually pay enough to matter. Beruka tapped her wyvern's wings and it slid into a descent, landing on the dark roof without a sound. Beruka slid off.

By her guess, there were fifteen guards on the roof. Eleven armed with weapons that had a chance of damaging her armor, five with actual training, and three that might actually put up a fight if it came to bloodshed. If she hadn't painted half of Hoshido's most fortified cities red, she might have felt…

Whatever that feeling was other people had before a battle they weren't sure they could win. Beruka had never understood it, still didn't understand it, but it felt like being surrounded by armed enemies was one of the times you were supposed to have it. If you ever did.

Honestly, of all the emotions, 'fear' seemed the least interesting. She could do without it.

Beruka took a step forward.

"Who is my employer?"

A man with a scar stepped forward, trembling. Hmm. Wasn't fear meant to be for the one surrounded, not the one leading? Emotions were less and less straightforward by the minute.

"You're her, aren't you?"

"Who?"

"The demon. The Nohrian soldier who nearly killed Princess Hinoka, left her for the wolves. The one who took three forts in as many days. The first over the barrier, because even the Queen's magic couldn't touch her dead soul."

"Yes. Who is my employer?"

The man trembled a little more.

"He's… he's not here. Said that he didn't… err… not meaning any offense, ma'am, but he said he didn't want to have to meet face to face with any of the Nohrian bastards who cost him his family. Not meaning any offense!"

"I take none. What is my assignment?"

The man stopped trembling, and looked up to meet Beruka's eyes.

"You… you don't, do you? Not even going to mention your honor?"

"I have none. What is my assignment?"

Beruka paused. What was this feeling? Impatience? Yes, that was the word. Impatience. It was exciting. She would have to use impatience more in the future.

The man stumbled back.

"Right! Right! I just… the boss thought you might not like the job, and I didn't want you to go and shoot the messenger! See, um, well, I…"

Fear. More fear. Beruka was sure she would never have need of it. All she'd seen was supposedly trained combatants left useless, commanders paralyzed, and her targets left without a shred of dignity in their last moments. Pointless.

"Speak. Quickly."

"Look! Some nobles were quick to turn over to Nohr, and boss wanted to send a message! I just thought that you, you know, honor among thieves, wouldn't want to stab the same people who handed you what you wanted earlier! You might want to settle with the guys making the contract!"

"Why?"

"Err… you know. Loyalty?"

"I am loyal to my employer. They are not my employer. I do not care beyond that."

"...damn. You mean that?"

"Why would I not?"

"O… okay. Glad you feel that way. Boss said to give you half up front, half on completion. Send a message. The kind Queen Hinoka doesn't have the guts for. You can do that, right? No problems?"

"If I have problems, the task will still be completed, or I will be dead. Either way, you will have no further difficulties with my performance."

"...Good to know. So, yeah. Got a paper with the details. Haven't looked myself so if the magistrates come calling I can claim some deniable, but it should have all you need."

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a small scroll. Beruka took it from him and looked.

Whoever wrote it clearly wasn't a native speaker. Beruka only learned to read at all to manage contracts, and she was still a world ahead of the man's boss. Poor grammar. Unclear wording. Fortunately, she was a professional. That meant she only really needed the target.

She turned away from the cowering man who hired her, and climbed back onto her Wyvern. The man looked like he expected more questions. Wasted words.

Perhaps Selena would have worked like that. For such an effective retainer, she had a number of unproductive habits. But Beruka was already gone, already on the path to the target, and ready to perform whatever task she was being paid for.

The building she arrived at was… subtle, for nobility, even by Hoshidan standards. No elaborate towers, no crackling lightning in the sky to warn away any who would dare challenge the might of its masters.

It was just… a building. Nicer than most in Nohr, even now, not like the slums of Beruka's youth, but nothing worth mentioning.

She tried to assess the security before she arrived. There were archers, of course, primed against any air assault less subtle than hers. Automatons patrolled the halls, presumably tools of the on-staff mechanist. Beruka gritted her teeth. Ninjas were always additional difficulty in these matters, and it seemed her target was close enough to the royal family to have a few on retainer.

Complications, complications, complications. Things like this left Beruka… impatient.

She smiled. She was sure she could come up with something good with impatient sooner or later. She could just wait for the opportunity to present itself.

Until then, she could focus on her infiltration. She made it to the roof, which meant she had the advantage. With the sentry towers, any guards would assume that they could detect and repel any air assaults. They wouldn't know Beruka was there for some time, if she was lucky. Enough time to neutralize a few guards, form a more detailed assessment of the interior, and reset a few traps to ensure they'd work more in her favor than they would for their intended purpose.

Or someone could detect her early. Ninjas were… persistent in Beruka's experience. Couldn't be bribed, wouldn't abandon a charge out of fear. Wouldn't stop as long as they were alive.

Wouldn't be alive terribly long, but they'd be a problem until then. Beruka slipped through a window, leaving her wyvern to guard the exfil. It wasn't the kind of building that would easily accommodate a ten foot tall death lizard, which meant Beruka would have to do all her work solo.

She held her axe tight. She'd met people who argued that you wanted a different weapon in close quarters. A knife, a shortsword, shuriken. Something less obtrusive. She'd met assassins using all of those methods, with a high level of efficiency.

Most of them were dead now. And Beruka still had her axe. She was not inclined to abandon a winning strategy.

There were complications, of course. There were always complications. The automatons were built to respond when one of their number went missing from a patrol. Beruka hadn't seen it before, and if she'd been slower, they might have managed to call for reinforcements.

(Yes, she would have reduced them to scrap metal just as quickly, but it would have made her… impatient.)

One of the ninjas guarding the east wing spotted movement, and came closer than Beruka liked before she could... deal with him. If he'd be more experienced in dealing with enemies who could actually fight back, she might have had a problem. If he'd been more experienced with enemies who could fight back, he might still be alive.

Fortunately for Beruka, neither of those things was true.

The closest she came to a disaster was the help. If Beruka was just a little further in developing a sense of humor, she might have found it funny. A simple cook, and they almost sounded an alarm where trained assassins failed.

They also lived where trained assassins failed. It was simple enough to stuff a rag in the woman's mouth and lock her in a supply cupboard. No serious harm. Just a need for a new employer soon enough, and a story to pass the time in the future.

Beruka wasn't sure if that was practical or simply sentimental, but either way. Not an impediment to the mission, and therefore not something worthy of her attention.

And she was the last thing that could have been an impediment. The central chambers were waiting. Waiting for someone to simply find the target, and… send a message.

Beruka shook her head. She prefered when she was simply told to kill. Killing was much simpler. You knew if you killed or if you didn't. Sending a message meant second guessing your methods, leaving the body where it could be found, elaborate and slow kills. In other words, sending a message meant being unprofessional, and Beruka hated being unprofessional.

The door slid open with a click, and Beruka adjusted the axe in her hands.

Only one figure in the bed. Odd. Beruka had assumed she'd find a family huddled behind the last barriers. There wasn't enough of a cluster anywhere else to consider it a proper defense, and the money invested in a place like this… wasting it would be senseless. Beruka wasn't friends with Corrin's sister, but she'd seen enough to know the woman was no fool, and cared about her people. Letting someone use these defenses for their own safety while leaving their family to die…

Off.

Beruka was on the floor less than a second later. Beruka was still alive a second later. The two facts were directly linked.

Flames swept the room, followed by shrapnel. Beruka staggered to her feet. A ninja was standing in front of her.

"Ha! It seems the spirits do reward the faithful. Here I was, cursing fate that my duty called me to defend traitors I would be better served to kill, only to find greater prey! The silent assassin, the bane of Hoshido. Beruka. Your legend ends here!"

"My legend?"

"And your life! Tonight, we find the true master of the lethal arts. The Wyvern rider from grim Nohr, or Grey Cobra, the master of Hoshidan ninjitsu!"

"Huh."

Beruka tapped on her armor. Nothing broken. A little pain. Nothing serious.

"Huh? Was that all you said when you killed my brother? When you brought low my family, so that honor demanded repayment that our cowardly queen would deny?"

The man was talking more than Odin. Beruka shook her head. Impatience demanded tribute if she was going to keep its pleasant company. She pulled a small axe from her belt and chucked it at the man's head. She'd killed ninjas before. He would be no better.

"And further! I…"

The man paused and snatched the axe out of the air.

Beruka had never felt fear before. She didn't feel it now. But for the first time, she could see the contours.

The man looked at the axe.

"An honorless dog to the end, then. An honorless dog for an honorless death, like all the mongrels of Nohr!"

He had a shuriken aimed at her head before the sentence was over.

Beruka's wrists were fast enough, barely. Her gauntlets caught the blades before they could add new scars to her face, and her hands were back to her sheath just fast enough to draw an axe before a sword could skewer her.

Just. Beruka had killed ninjas before. But she hadn't killed this ninja yet. For the first time, the distinction seemed very important.

He seemed to be everywhere at once, a sword from her left passing by her axe to nick her shoulder, an arrow on her right that left a trail of blood past her ear.

No real strikes, nothing critical, but he was wearing on her, and Beruka only had so much endurance. Sooner or later, the ninja would manage a clean hit, and Beruka would either be dead or as good as, too worn out to try anything else. Unless she did something her opponent didn't expect.

The sword came in again. Beruka locked her teeth and rammed her shoulder. The sword sunk in. The ninja looked surprised.

Then Beruka jabbed the shuriken in her gauntlet into his neck, and guaranteed he wouldn't still look surprised in whatever afterlife would take him.

It wasn't clean work. Then again, assassinations almost never were. It was the point. Even when the target was nowhere to be found, that was the point. And now Beruka would need a clean corner to patch her wounds, and…

And someone was sobbing.

Beruka pulled a cloth tight over her wound. Her left arm would be useless for a few days, until she could get to a healer, but she still had work to do, and a task to complete. People like Odin bragged about taking on armies with one hand. Said that it was a fair handicap.

Beruka didn't brag. Bragging was pointless. But she did clean a full Hoshidan outpost with her left hand in a sling, and seven of Nohr's finest assassins died when her right hand was pinned. One arm would suffice for whatever was left of the mission.

Beruka followed the sound to a wall. Hidden panels. Acceptable paranoia, considering. She would have found it sooner or later, but the child's sobbing… helped.

The wall fell.

Three people stared at her. A mother, a father, and a girl. A girl about Beruka's age when she first killed a man. First became an assassin. She felt…

She couldn't say what she felt. Emotions were still new territory, still difficult to work with, still complicated. But it kept her hand back.

The man in front seemed to double over in relief.

"You're her, aren't you? Princess Camilla's retainer? You must be here to stop the assassin. Thank you. My family…"

Beruka shook her head.

"I am the assassin."

The man broke.

"Oh."

Beruka adjusted the axe in her hand. It would be professional to end things now. It would even be, what was the word, kindest to end things now. Kill the father first, then the mother, then the daughter. Leave each parent with the hope that what they cared about would survive, then kill the daughter before she could process what she went through. Selena suggested it once, wincing all the while. If this kind of thing came up. If it was necessary. Absolutely necessary.

The man was slumped. Bowed.

"I accept my fate. I betrayed my people, even if I aimed to protect them. If my death protects my family… I hope they will forgive me. And convey my apologies to the Queen. She worked more to preserve my life than a worm of a servant could ever deserve."

Quick. Clean. Done. Beruka felt the axe. It refused to move. Tired arm. Had to be tired arm.

"Your family. You love them?"

"More than my life."

"They would be… sad if you were gone."

And together when they were dead. Simple! Beruka could make everything so simple!

"...You have your duty. I have mine."

"..."

Beruka paused. What was her duty? She never thought of the term when she was working for herself. There was no duty. There was a contract. She would complete it, and then she could eat, or she would fail and go hungry. No moral dimension. No questions beyond competency.

But then she had Lady Camilla. Then she had a duty. Not conscience, exactly, nothing so complicated, but she had rules to abide by, and someone she could disappoint. Or rather, someone she could never disappoint. They came to the same thing in the end.

It was a better life. Now it was gone. And it left Beruka with… what did it leave her with? She had a husband. Who she was disappointing every time she continued her trade, if he only knew. No matter which course she followed, she was betraying him too much to believe in any duty followed there. A country, which she left behind to pursue a little coin. Not much better. And a memory of Camilla, her absent employer. Of the woman who was the only reason she had anything but cold death.

She'd heard of duties to the dead before. She almost believed in them sometimes. Duties to the merely absent were easier still to manage.

The last real duty she could believe in, then, was a duty to Camilla. To do what she would have considered… right.

Camilla would never kill a man who aided her for a little coin. A few ninja, perhaps. A path of blood through the fortress, she never was one to shirk. But killing a man and his family who were no threat?

Beruka sighed. It seemed so simple when she started. But complicated was slipping in everywhere, no matter what she did. Good complicated, bad complicated, indifferent. And it meant that she couldn't even do what she came here for.

Unless she made her work as complicated as the circumstances.

"Good. You received the message."

"...What?"

Beruka turned to walk away.

"Know where your loyalties are. Don't make the wrong enemies. If you do, I'll be back."

"Thank you?"

Beruka was already halfway to the stairs. Well. Now she had another thing to worry about.

Conscience.

It came with emotions, apparently.

She smiled.

Well. She'd been learning to enjoy dealing with complicated already. A little more wouldn't ruin her life.

(Author's notes: And that's that. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.

For anyone coming here from Grimaspawn, yeah. I did something for Fates. But this might be it. Didn't exactly grab me like Awakening did on a narrative level. Don't get me wrong, Conquest's gameplay is really good, but the writing, especially for Corrin... did I mention the gameplay's good?

Still, an emotionless assassin dealing with complications to her line of work seemed like it might be fun. So here we are. Might be more some day. Might not. Either way, it's something.

No idea when or what next time is, but until then, take care.)