Dunwall Tower shone like a second moon along the coastline, a beacon against the dark. Daud had been content simply to stare at the city's skyline for a long time, wondering - Outsider's balls - just what he thought he was doing. The wind played a little bit along the collar of the dress jacket he'd stolen for the occasion. His boots were even laced up properly, all the way to the top. A corpse politely tidying itself up for the pine box.

Daud wanted to burn, if he had a choice in the matter.

He had bothered to glance at himself in a shop window as he'd passed. Daud had never been handsome, and after years of the life he'd lived, it looked as if an angry and determined hand at the forge had used his face for the anvil. Ugly as ever, and he loved the way he looked with a surge of absurd vanity, his skin with the raw, scarred dignity of cliff rock, so weathered there was no doubting his endurance, survival or indifference.

Once, Daud might have been even worse with his pride, but he had seen long ago what timeless truly looked like. He had seen real power. The Overseers thought they knew all the reasons to be afraid - frightened of the spells of witches and terrors in the dark. A fear of death - but death was nothing compared to what the Outsider could do to a man, the slow corrosion of the soul that came from simply knowing he was real.

It had been years since Daud had seen even a hint of him, but how many hurricanes did a man need to find himself in the middle of, to ever give up the memory? How many shipwrecks, to forget the crushing pressure of the waves, of being tossed about in the void, with no sense of up or down. Even if a man might find himself rescued and safe back home, could he ever be the same man who had left? How could the world not feel forever changed, a little dimmer, a little less real than the memory of what he'd left behind?

The Overseers spoke of many things, though some quite grudgingly. The Outsider's beauty was a particularly point of reluctance. Whatever devilish, siren's form he chose, it was only to trick and tempt the mind, to bewitch and beguile the weak. None of them spoke of the look in those eyes, though, the limitless depths that glinted like lightning off a midnight surge of the storm, marking the very wave meant to pull a man under.

The only expression he'd ever seen on the Outsider's face was an amused sort of pity, and if he was not beneficent there was no malice there, either. Except that Daud had been given gifts, hadn't he? Granted power without a single string attached, and he could not look back and claim otherwise, that his choices had ever been anything but his own.

He could leave, right now. Daud could sail a thousand miles away, back to Serkonos or up to Tyvia or to the edge of Pandyssia and beyond, but at the end of that journey he'd still be right here. If he didn't see the end of this, he'd be poised at the edge for the rest of his life.

Reaching the Tower was easy enough in the dark. Daud felt better with each step than he had in a long time, lighter and calmer as he became little more than a passing thought that flicked its way from rooftop to rooftop. He couldn't remember the journey as it had been, the day of the Empress' assassination, only that in his memories the light seemed much brighter than it possibly could have been, even at midday.

Daud thought he distinctly remembered the glint off a pin in the Empress' hair, and that he'd wondered what she might look like when she let it fall. But he couldn't have thought that, not until much later, with all his focus on finishing the task set down to him. Well aware his employer would have zero issue with letting his corpse take the blame, should he dare a misstep.

One of his own men had gone down first, run through by the Lord Protector. The Whaler had managed to get himself off the property, but bled out not long after. Daud had heard Attano was good, and he had been, but of course they'd had an unfair advantage from the start. It had been a minor complication, to deal with the arrival of the bodyguard, but they were no amateurs. Adaptation was just another part of the job.

Daud hadn't needed the money. Of course, he'd been subtly threatened - if one could call Burrows a subtle man - but if Daud could be cowed by such things he deserved to be run down like a dog. So why do it? Had he felt some small part of himself balk at the thought, and that had finally tipped his hand? Had he been so eager to do it just to prove to himself that he could, that he had never hesitated, that he was as he had always been - beyond such foolish moral considerations?

If Daud hadn't taken the job, Burrows would have found another way. He'd been too far in the shit to do anything less. Eventually, he might have been panicked enough to even attempt the job himself, though Daud can't imagine how that would have gone well. Royal Spymaster aside, the man was an imbecile, and the total collapse of his absurdly stupid plan had done nothing to sharpen his wits. It was a happy thought, imagining the bewildered look on the man's stupid, dead face, though Daud did not usually indulge in such flights of fancy.

Hating the man had always proved a good distraction. Burrows, who had suggested every mode of homicide from poison to a swarm of rats in his rambling, half-coherent meetings. He'd been trying for authoritative but had come up manic instead, pretending to have a hold on his present situation when Daud could hear the disbelief, the awe there - that for all his power, he'd been absolutely gobsmacked at how easily and completely he had destroyed his life.

The Royal Spymaster had mused on the possibilities of malfunctioning spring razors in unsuspected corners, while Daud had imagined all the ways to murder him with his own office chair. It had ornate decorations. He could be very creative with ornate decorations.

The Empress had not looked at all bewildered when she'd died. She had known exactly what was happening, and her only thought had been to shield her daughter. All her fear for the girl, and then for her Lord Protector, with only a pittance left for herself, right at the moment he'd put her to the blade. Maybe that was what it meant to be an Empress, setting every other need before her own. Maybe it was a kindness, not to be afraid until it was too late.

It had been quick, impersonal, professional. He would have said she'd died instantly, but that was before he'd held that heart in his hand, before he'd returned it to Corvo's keeping.

If he'd had it to do over, Daud would have done it exactly the same, and he never should have. He didn't have the right, it should not have been allowed. Funny how he'd thought he was past believing in transgressions, let alone that he had any left to make.

It was no real challenge to break into the main building, though there were more defenses than before, and more than a few of the holes he remembered had been tightened up, more men on guard, nearly every inch of space lit to blazing. Daud grinned, imagined the Lord Protector had been thinking of necessary changes even as he'd scaled the walls, taking note of where to establish a better position even as he sought to remove the Lord Regent from it. He had always hoped he might respect the man who would kill him.

Now if only Corvo would stop making him wait for it.

Technically, he had an invitation, and all of this was just wasting time. He could have stepped up to the front door and asked for an audience. Corvo had proved himself innocent and seated Emily on the throne without ever naming the Empress' true assassin. Daud had kept some rein on his reputation outside of certain circles, and there was a chance the guard might not even know who he was.

Or this was all a trap, with orders to execute him on sight and half the Abbey waiting in the wings. Daud hadn't actually seen an Overseer so far, or felt the distracting, dismantling hum of those damned boxes - there weren't even that many wolfhounds, and half of those he'd seen had been asleep.

He almost stopped at the overlook, with its fine columns and long view of the sea. The place they'd put her grave.

Daud hated himself for even thinking of it, because thinking but not going was no less sentimental, and hating himself for the thought did not change the weight of what he had never intended to carry, not by a single ounce.

Maybe he was just getting old.

A tallboy guarded the last portion of the entrance, and Daud watched it go back and forth and back again on its endless, uneven circuit. During the time Corvo had spent regaining his position, Daud had felt no particular sympathy for the Lord Protector, and he'd never had many feelings for his homeland, for good or ill. Still, the last time he'd gone on a mission and overheard yet another conversation concerning the man - "what did you expect, sending a Serkonan to guard the Empress" - he'd allowed the extra time while the guardsman suited up, crafting a proper tripwire for those spindly little legs. All it had taken then was a bullet in the proper place to send the man tripping over himself, before plunging into the sea in a flaming, fiery ball.

Daud usually preferred understatement, but there was time and place for all things.

Now was the moment for discretion and invisibility, as he made his way inside the Tower. Interior jobs were always tricky, fewer exits and the far better chance for his enemies to blockade and surround him. He was a very good assassin, but this was not at all the same as being invincible. Daud tried to avoid being trapped within walls whenever possible - maybe Corvo knew it, and was trying to… or perhaps his paranoia was giving the man a little too much credit.

Still, he couldn't deny how little control he had over any of this, or how he should have cared more than he did that he was likely walking to his doom. He hadn't brought a single one of his men along, let alone told them where he was going or why. Not that he knew the why. If the Empress wanted him gone, there were other ways to make it happen. If she wanted him dead, there were far more sensible avenues to pursue. Corvo wanted him dead, he was sure of that, but the man had picked his pocket rather than put a knife through his back. If he'd thought the Lord Protector was taunting him Daud would have chased him down and finished things, but that wasn't what this was about. If Corvo was watching him now, he didn't feel it, no sign of any traps laid in advance and no particular tension among the guards.

He was certain he would come to regret it, but damned if Daud wasn't curious about what would happen next.

In the hall he could hear the sound of light conversation from a large meeting room. It was well past the time for regular meals but there was the clink of, perhaps, a spoon on china and the soft cadence of voices. One low, one higher, the both of them female. Daud shifted from the chandelier to the ground in an instant, leaning just enough around the door to see into the room. The Empress sat at the far end of a long table, with Waverly Boyle at her right, and a vacant seat at her left. No one else was in the room, no Overseers or guards, no Lord Protector.

Daud did not steel himself, there was no point to it, and he was not at all surprised at the thought that flashed through his mind. The Outsider, who serenely ignored all nonsense questions of good and evil for the main goal, the vital point of it all - that one must always endeavor to be interesting.

He stepped into the room, and both women turned to him as one. Lady Boyle's eyes were curious and cordial, hiding everything.

The Empress looked exactly like her mother.

"If you would be kind enough to close the door?"

So he did.

Emily Kaldwin burned like a star at the head of the table, the perfect match to her Tower, pure and shining. Adorned with a crown her mother had not been wearing, as if the trappings of power might substitute for age. It was a simple, silver thing, though those were no fivepenny krust pearls adorning its edges. The girl wore only white, and would likely wear white until the day she was wed, if not beyond. Daud felt a moment of sympathy for the suitor that would one day have to prove his worth for her hand.

So here was his answer, what the Lord Protector fought for, and who. It had never been revenge, just a happy accident that seeing the girl here and seeing his enemies struck down had been two birds with the same stone.

The room was well lit from floor to ceiling. No windows. No doors save the one he'd come in from. The Lord Protector's absence was as tangible as if he'd been standing at Daud's side - but where was he?

Esma Boyle had been the most striking and extravagant of the Boyle sisters, but Waverly Boyle had an elegance and charm all her own, with less of a penchant for passing out under the furniture at the end of the night. A ridiculous member of the family could be a liability in certain circumstances, but there were benefits as well. As long as all gazes and whispers gathered around one sister, the others could move about with some measure of freedom. It had been a bit of a scandal, Esma's sudden departure from the social scene, and though the official word was that she had gone to see an ailing, distant cousin in Tyvia, the rumors of everything from plague to pregnancy had been thick on the ground. Daud knew where the woman had gone - or more specifically, where she had been taken - and he wondered if Boyle had come here searching for clues of her own.

The lady smiled at him, polite and reserved but with the slightest sparkle in her eye, as if to say that whatever he'd heard, she hadn't set aside all debauchery in the pursuit of power.

"May I pour you a drink?"

Lady Boyle's hands were already moving, the bottle opened and half a glass in front of her, which meant nothing except that she knew how to properly set up such a plot. The Empress was drinking tea.

Where was Corvo hiding, and to what end? It would take nothing if he wished to flush the man out. He could practically pick out the tile on the floor that he might reach, a little more than half the distance to where the Empress sat, before the Lord Protector would be on him. He wondered if the Outsider had spoken with Corvo since Emily's ascension, if the Lord Protector had been discreet to all involved concerning those… special circumstances of his many victories.

The Empress watched him in silence, and he had no desire to meet her gaze. The girl hadn't been the one to request his presence, certainly, so what was this?

Waverly had to lean a little forward on the table to pass the glass to him, a reserved wardrobe that still bore the required amount of skin, her décolletage a rather fetching sight, as it was no doubt meant to be. She noticed his gaze, and her smile was wry, their hands brushing briefly as she passed over the glass. He wondered if it was poisoned. Or if Corvo wished for him to drink and wake up in front of some faceless firing squad. Perhaps a bit of torture first? The young Empress didn't seem one to enjoy the sight of a man on the rack, even her mother's killer - but he'd been surprised before.

Daud sat down, and took a long drink, such suicidal recklessness still a better feeling than what he'd felt before coming here. The wine was a fair year, but he might as well have been drinking water for all that he could taste it. A few moments passed without fanfare, and no one seemed to be waiting for him to die.

"The Empress and I were speaking about the weather, before you came." Waverly says, "It doesn't feel much like the middle of the Seeds, does it? I believe it feels more like Wind. Wind and Darkness, though I can hardly tell them apart."

"Indeed." Daud had never been much for idle conversation, and had the distinct impression the woman knew it, and was pressing anyway. He felt a bit like a some great beast from the Continent, chained up and dragged from the jungle to be gawked at, but perhaps he'd only been too long with Weepers and Whalers for company. The Lady Boyle was testing the waters, not trying to provoke him. It would be good to know why.

She smiled again, as if they were sharing some private joke. "I imagine the Fugue Feast will be a thing to see, this year."

If anything might prove as fascinating as Dunwall's rush to the abyss it would be the city's attempt to right itself again. Only a supremely foolish man would even wish to take control of a city in the midst of such crisis, and Corvo had certainly done his part to make sure all those men were dead or otherwise occupied. Still, there was the matter of an unstable Parliament and an Abbey yet undecided about its High Overseer, after losing two in such quick succession. It had been a hard-won victory for the Lord Protector, but Daud wondered if he'd ever regretted making the effort.

He took another sip of still-flavorless wine, his gaze fixed to the middle of the table. "Where is he?"

"On business," the Empress said, and he looked up at that voice, nothing girlish in it as it echoed in the stone room, well aware of who he meant. She sat poised and expressionless, pale hands loose in her lap, her fingers barely touching.

Did she look like Corvo? Was the Lord Protector truly her father? Daud couldn't see it, thought she took far more after her mother - but how much of that was his imagination, seeing what he apparently wanted to be tormented with? Before the last year had played itself out, he'd been fairly certain he no longer had an imagination.

"You should not have sent him away, your Highness." Did the words sound as toothless as they felt? The Lady Boyle paled slightly, but Emily sat unmoved, her gaze flat and emotionless.

"Did having him near help the last Empress?" She replied with the shameless bluntness of a child, or the cold reserve of a girl raised to power, or a woman from whom Daud had already taken everything. What was he going to do, kill her? What could that possibly prove except that he was… whatever it was that had kept him up late into the night, throbbing in that empty place his conscience had never been.

"I came here at your invitation. If my presence displeases you, I can go. You will never see me again."

The Empress said nothing, it was Waverly who moved - interesting, for the woman to make herself a handmaid now, though the opportunity was there for advancement, and even a Boyle might have some trouble making hay during an apocalypse. Whatever the city believed of Jessamine's reign, the Lord Regent's short time on the throne had been an absolute nightmare, and the Empress' daughter was seen as a return to some kind of stability, the best hope for the future, if not the only one.

"You were hardly invited for a polite conversation," Lady Boyle said. "Obviously you are a man of action, and we will not keep you a moment longer than necessary."

The envelope she tossed down hit the table with a surprisingly sharp sound, sliding to a stop only an inch away from his hand. Daud didn't move for a moment, not because he didn't understand but because he now knew exactly what this was about. He'd done it too many times in too many places, some even as fine as this. It was his life, of course he knew what this was. It still took a moment to pick up what she'd cast down, and his hands didn't feel at all like his hands, too clumsy as they unfolded the paper, the list of names, some familiar and others less so.

"You can't possibly be serious."

"We need information. We need to know what you know," the Lady Boyle said. "I've given what counsel I can to the throne and I will continue to serve in whatever way I am allowed, but as you know there are places in this world that ladies are not permitted to go."

"What does she have on you?" Daud said, and he watched her flinch, saw the Lady Boyle's smile go brittle at the edges as she very deliberately kept her eyes on him.

"I serve the Empress as a loyal daughter of Gristol, and citizen of Dunwall. If, in my humble labors I may bring about any progress for the Empire, or news of my ridiculous sister, I am honored to do what I can."

"Where is he?" Daud growled, standing up with such force that he nearly knocked the chair back into the wall, turning a full circle where he stood. "Attano?! Where are you? This is absurd! Stop hiding behind these women and face me, now!"

The women in question watched him quietly and this time he did look to the Empress - a little girl, she was just a little girl and Daud damn well knew where authority came from and it was not from children no matter what they wore or how they thought to scowl at him. Power came only from the point of a knife, or the mark that burned against his skin and made him a terror of men and there was a price to pay for that, there had to be.

"I murdered the Empress for money. I killed your mother and I didn't care. I don't care. Now you are an orphan and you will sit on that throne and be cold and alone forever."

Emily did not move or look away, but he could see the tight, thin line of her mouth, lips pressed together so fiercely they had all but disappeared, with her face nearly as pale as the dress she wore.

"I should be punished," he said, and even as he did so Daud knew he was no longer making the rational argument, if he ever had been. He was begging, "I-"

I need to be punished.

He'd often wondered what other powers the Outsider had that he'd never bothered to pass along. He wondered what rules governed the world beyond the world, and how much the Abbey had figured true and how much they were simply grasping in the dark. It had taken him the better part of a year to learn to possess a bird, and Daud had quickly discovered what a mistake that was, for how little he'd wanted to return to the ground afterward. How no freedom had felt quite as total as how it had been to wheel through the sky.

Maybe that was how it was for the dead, that they had no reason to think of coming back. Maybe he imagined it completely, the imperious tilt of her head, the knowing gaze that looked out just for a moment through the young Empress' eyes.

"You are being punished, Royal Spymaster."

1. Apologies if I've overlooked any significant or story-breaking details. I'm not the best FPS player so my information gathering skills in-game weren't always 100 percent and a lot of the wikis are still being added to. Also, I have no beta since I don't know anyone else playing this game right now.