VII: Inevitable Response

Now

Although they were upwind of the blaze that was starting to consume the city, Kythra could still smell the smoke. Even though her hearing had returned, it was the stink of burning wood and black powder that lingered with her long after they had left the site of destruction.

She had been in a dazed state as Dace led them in a westward direction, moving further away from the island's shore and to the upper section of the city. They were now on the roof of an abandoned building, one that was built of stone rather than wood. Dace stood near the edge of the rooftop, one foot planted atop the ledge as he surveyed the part of the city they came from.

Kythra, meanwhile, was down in a sitting position, with her back against a crumbling brick chimney. Her initial shock from the explosion had subsided in part, but even with her wits returned, she wasn't sure what to say or do. Why was she even here? The mercenary claimed that he was only going into the City Watch headquarters to acquire information, but he instead blew the damned building up and unleashed an inferno on the island's central district.

She glared over at the mercenary and contemplated shoving him off the roof. "I know you're an outsider, so maybe none of this matters to you," Kythra said as she grabbed a pebble and threw it at him. "But this city was my father's, and should now be mine. So when you start burning down swaths of it, you are burning away my birthright. The Watch might have been a bunch of money-grabbing louts, but they kept the peace. Your arson will only make things harder for me in the long run."

"The long run..." Dace scoffed. He turned to Kythra and pointed at the city below. "Take a look down there. There are a few lines of people that have formed, hauling buckets to and from the nearest well."

"Of course, they're trying to douse the flames you left behind at the Watch building."

"Look closer."

Kythra twisted around and squinted in the distance. While there were a number of men and women passing buckets along in a relay, she noticed that many individuals were, upon receiving a filled bucket, abandoning their place in line and running off with the water, leaving the rest to scramble and try to make up the shortfall. It quickly became apparent that the peasantry were simply too disorganized and self-interested to work together and contain the blaze.

"Most are rushing away, probably in a misguided attempt to protect their own homes. As if they think a few stolen pails of water would make a difference." Dace stepped back from the edge and turned his attention to a building perched atop a hill at the city's western edge. "Is that the sort of person you desire to rule over? A bunch of witless sheep who can barely see beyond their next meal and bed?"

"Maybe they need an iron hand to keep them in place. I'm not a fool, I realize that my father is more than likely already dead. When I retake control of the Family, I'll have strength in numbers and everyone will know that they now answer to me."

Dace snorted, sneer still plain on his lips.

She found herself mirroring his sneer as she continued, "My father knew how to flex his power when he needed to, and I intend to do the same. No one will fail to respect me once I leave a few people hanging from the nooses down by the docks."

"However much influence or respect your father had did him little good in the end, he was still just a mortal man, doomed to die in the end like anyone else. And organizations like yours are for the delusional; a group of wild dogs banding together because they are too weak to survive on their own." Dace pointed up at the manor on the hill. "Your rival Raine is exactly the same. You both plan to just surround yourselves with sycophants and call yourselves king of a heap. Why you would even want that is beyond me."

"You don't know a damn thing about any of us. Acting like you perceive so much about how people are, but all I see is an angry old man with no one but himself to rely upon. You know that lone wolves die out in nature, right?"

"And pack wolves only follow a leader until it suits them to seize control for themselves through claw and tooth. Call it what you will; family, company, guild, or brotherhood. I have seen many types throughout my time in the Realms. There is no real loyalty in the end, just a series of false smiles until it becomes beneficial to stab someone in the back." He crossed his arms and turned to face Kythra. "You will see soon enough, when we depose Raine."

Kythra got to her feet and stared at him as if he had grown a third eye. "Wait, is that why you brought us back this way? You expect the two of us to unseat Raine's Company? Now who's being delusional?"

"I spent some time casing Raine's home long before springing you from your cell. The two of us can deal with him. The fire in the central district will provide ample distraction."

"I thought the whole point of that was to give us cover on our way to the docks. Have you forgotten why I even hired you?"

Dace shot her with a withering glare and pointed out at the city. "Did you expect to simply show up at your Family's base and see everyone fall in line? Here is a truth for you: You are not your father, and his former followers will never respect you. The only way out of your current predicament is to make them fear you through action. And the best way to do that is by removing from power the man they dared to make a deal with."

Eyeing him carefully, Kythra could see that he believed every word he was saying. "Even if I were to agree with this, and even if your fiery distraction diverts his people, Raine always has at least five guards with him. And you have an injured hand. How could the two of us expect to outfight that many?"

The mercenary reached into a pocket and removed a vial containing a white powder. "Who said anything about fighting them?"

From his balcony, Raine watched impassively as the city burned. Normally he would be fast asleep at this point in the dead of night, but he couldn't rest knowing that the blaze in the central district seemed to grow by the hour. At this point it was bright enough to cast an orange glow in his room that pierced through the curtains, despite it still being some distance away.

He gripped the crystal head that topped his walking stick and tapped the ground. This was caused by Kythra, no doubt. She and whoever was still loyal to her were probably starting a civil war against her brother. And from the look of it, the whole damned island was going to be caught in the crossfire.

Sighing to himself, the elderly man shook his head. When Harken told him about Alagon's death and Rentris' offer to relinquish control, Raine thought life would get easier. But when the pudgy representative proposed that the deal could only be made if Raine killed Kythra for them, he suspected he was being duped. At the time, it seemed like a prudent idea to keep her under lock and key until he figured out what Harken and Rentris were really playing at.

Now he regretted not executing her outright. Because of her, it looked like the entire middle section of the island might end up as scorched earth. Raine grit his teeth and cursed aloud. Hells to what anyone else wanted. If both of Alagon's whelps wanted to ruin each other and everything along the way, Raine wasn't going to get caught in the middle of it.

He stormed over to the doors of his bedroom and swung them open, startling the two bodyguards that were dozing off outside. Pointing to the pair, he barked orders. "Rouse whichever guards are still here and tell them they're on escort duty. Prepare horses and supplies for a few days' travel. We're heading to the fishery on the other side of the island until the fires die out or the Family kills each other."

As he turned back to start gathering his things, one of the guards murmured, "A lot of the others have already gone to secure your other buildings, in case the fire spreads to this part of the city. And those still here are supposed to be finishing their shifts, they'll be too tired to travel."

"Then tell them to drink something that'll wake them up, or I'll have their hides. You'll do as I say, too, or have you forgotten who is paying you for your services? I want to be ready to leave before sunrise." Raine slammed the door behind him. Back in his day, buccaneers would loyally follow his every order on the high seas, no questions. These island-dwelling louts didn't know how to do anything other than complain. When he took control of the rest of the accursed island, he was going to change that.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Damon charged out of the burning building, with what looked like a bundle of cloth cradled in his arm. Coughing heavily from the smoke, he ran down the street a safe distance, before slowing down as he approached the sobbing couple nearby. He pulled back one end of the cloth, revealing a small baby who blinked at him curiously, and appeared to be breathing normally, thankfully. He gingerly passed the child to her parents, who blubbered some incomprehensible words of thanks to the knight before they turned and hurried away from the building before it collapsed.

Earlier in the evening, when he approached the central district of the city, the smell of smoke and the heat radiating from the first building he saw made Damon assume it was only a few buildings that had caught fire. Now, standing near the edge of the ever-expanding inferno, it was terribly clear that it was widespread enough to block all direct access to the headquarters of the City Watch.

Damon groaned as he bent down to catch his breath, taking a seat atop his empty trunk that the couple minded for him while he searched for their child. The few guards he came across on his way toward the middle of the island were of little help, all of them merely ignored his questions and just directed him to go talk to Captain Centius at the City Watch building in the middle of town. As he looked around now, there were still a few ineffectual guards standing a far distance from the blaze. All were swarmed by civilians displaced from the ruined buildings, everyone crying and screaming at the guards to do something about the fires. Not a single one appeared interested in taking action.

He'd only been on the island for about a day, and already he could tell that the guards were little more than uniformed thugs. One of them, clearly overwhelmed by the crush of people surrounding him, even threw off his helmet and ripped the badge from his own chest, hurling it in the face of the nearest peasant before shoving his way past the crowd.

Sneering to himself, Damon didn't know what he was thinking before; believing that the City Watch might be able to help him locate the killer, Dace. This island was proving to be a cesspool of thieves and cheats who probably only lived here on the island because they were wanted for crimes on the mainland. It felt like any semblance of governance in Riftmere was just a feeble attempt to imitate what these lowlifes had seen from afar in more civilized places.

From what he'd learned about Dace's methods, resorting to arson wasn't outside the realm of possibility. If Dace knew he was being pursued, he intentionally targeted the Watch building and would then be seeking passage off the island. Going back to the docks district might be his best option, but even so, there was a lot of ground to cover. The paladin didn't relish the thought that he might have to stoop to hiring some local toughs to scout the area to help him locate the target of his quest.

He patted his breast pocket. At least he still had a copy of the old wanted poster showing Dace's face. Although the picture was old, it gave him something to show others as a starting point. The killer's face had been etched into his mind and for decades he had spent evenings studying the portrait, maybe with the vain hope that doing so would convince the gods to give him some mental signal as to the murderer's whereabouts.

"Strange place to come for a tourist," said a lilting voice behind him. Coming out of his thoughts, Damon shot to his feet and whirled around, on guard with a hand on the hilt of his weapon. A stocky man was standing just behind the paladin, having approached without making a sound. The stranger smirked and continued, "You clearly don't have the look of a local, and that gilded travel chest you have there bears religious markings."

Damon eyed the man up and down. If they were a lowly thief, here to rob him of his possessions, the knight guessed he could probably prevail against the stranger in a fight.

"And by that silent, smouldering glare, I'm guessing a paladin, and one here on a mission. Huh." The stranger clicked his tongue, his smirk somehow spreading even wider across his face. "Not a coincidence, then, that we happen to have two particularly unusual butterflies landing on our fair isle in under a week?" Seeing that Damon was still clearly suspicious, the man suddenly went into a sweeping bow. "My name is Harken, and I'm a representative of the Family, the authoritative body here in Riftmere. And you, sir...?"

The knight frowned but, seeing that this Harken already had him measured, decided to see what this was about. "Sir Damon, Knight of Helm. Do you mean to say there is another 'unusual' visitor who arrived recently?"

"Oh, yes. The one who is responsible for all that chaos you see before you. A true dastard by the name of Dace. Ah," Harken cocked his head and pointed at Damon's face. "I see it. There is a look of recognition in your eyes, a burning that somehow dwarfs the inferno back there."

"He is a wanted murderer, a vile creature that I must bring down." For a moment, Damon forgot about all decorum and discretion, and could only think of the face of the man who took his parents from him. "I don't know why he came to this pathetic rock at the arse-end of nowhere, but I intend to make sure he never leaves alive. If you know where he is, then I demand you tell me."

The smile seemed to remain frozen on Harken's face. "Well, that certainly sounds dramatically personal. Come then, follow me, Sir-Damon-Knight-of-Helm. I expect that we have much to talk about, and then I think we can pin the wings of both our targets."

"C'mon, you vile beast. Stop thrashing about!" shouted one of Raine's bodyguards, yanking on the reins of the horse. The mare snorted and gave a derisive whinny, pulling its head away from him and refusing to budge from its stall. The guard glanced around the stables to some of his fellows for help, but the other four men were busy packing their belongings for the excursion.

It was still dark outside, a few hours before sunrise, they were all tired and stiff and in no mood for this unexpected call to travel from their boss. The stink of manure in the stables and the belligerent horses made it all the more unbearable.

Giving up, he threw the reins at the horse's side and stepped out of the stall into the central area of the building. He demanded, "Where's the damnable stablemaster?"

One of the others yawned loudly before muttering, "He left earlier in the evening after the fire in town started spreading. Most of the help did. They all scurried back to their filthy hovels, trying to save whatever meagre possessions they own."

"Ugh. Why couldn't Raine wait until daylight for this journey? Doesn't he know we've been working our arses off? Is a few more hours of sleep too much to ask for?"

Another of his fellows rubbed his bleary eyes and grimaced. With irritation clearly in his tone, he said, "You don't need to tell us, we're all on the same shift. I mean-"

"Hsst! Quiet guys, someone's coming," whispered the youngest guard, a bare-faced lad who was barely out of his teens. The rest glared at him, knowing that Raine had it in for the fellow, ever since Kythra escaped under his watch. That meant the fire was indirectly his fault. When he saw their stern gazes, he quickly averted his own, keeping his head down and turning his black eye away as he sealed his pack.

Nevertheless, they all ceased complaining as a grey-haired server entered the stables, carefully carrying a metal tray with five steaming mugs atop it. "Morning lads, courtesy from the kitchen. Should keep you alert for your travels."

"Praise the gods," said the nearest guard, who immediately snatched up a cup and started drinking. The rest of the exhausted men followed suit.

Between sips, the first guard glanced at the servant. "You don't look familiar. Where's the regular girl?"

The grey-haired man gave a slight shrug. "I heard she went down to the city when the fire broke out, to check on a friend's house. I normally work in the kitchen, in the back."

"Hmph. Well, you could've done a better job with the coffee. Tastes a little off." Despite his words, the guard nevertheless downed the rest of the cup before returning it to the tray. The others did the same, except for the youngest guard who, still keeping his head down as he joined them, held onto his mug and continued sipping the brew as he returned to preparing his provisions.

As the guards resumed packing their equipment for the foray, the servant walked back to the entrance of the stables. He turned and quietly dumped the mugs into a hay pile nearby, then turned and simply stood next to the door, silently holding the silver tray in his hands. This earned him a quizzical look from a few of the guards, but they otherwise ignored him and went on with their work, a few continuing to unsuccessfully coax the horses out of their stalls.

After a few minutes, Raine entered the stables, with a sixth guard walking at his side. The old man gave his guards a look of disappointment and disgust. "Why aren't the horses ready? I gave you plenty of time to- urk!"

His words were cut short as an arm came around his neck from behind and began throttling him. A hooded woman standing in the shadows behind the old man clasped her wrist with her other hand, keeping her grip locked tightly on Raine's throat as the old man began flailing his arms uselessly. The bodyguard standing next to Raine immediately turned and his hand moved to his sword hilt. Before he could draw the weapon, however, a silver tray smashed into the side of his head, pushing him off balance. The grey-haired man followed up with a second strike from the tray, which was enough to knock the bodyguard out.

Upon seeing the fight at the entrance, the young bare-faced guard shot to his feet, but hesitated. He looked nervously to his fellows, expecting them to rush to Raine's defense, but none reacted. Suddenly, one of his fellow guards, the one standing near the horse, tilted to the side and collapsed limply to the dirt floor. One by one, the rest of the guards careened over as well. From the stalls nearby, the horses started braying fearfully.

The young guard's head started to feel heavy, and his eyesight began to blur. Looking toward the entrance of the stables, he dimly saw that both Raine and the guard next to him were being dragged by the arms toward the centre of the room by their attackers. The lad's body felt oddly heavy and he dropped his mug, spilling the last bit of the beverage into the dirt as he fell to his knees.

The 'servant' looked over at the woman and remarked, "You said he only had five bodyguards."

His head felt groggy, but now that he was looking directly at them, the lad was aware enough to realize that the attackers were Kythra and the older man who had given him the black eye.

Shrugging, the hooded woman glanced around and cocked her head toward the young guard. "The kid there must be new."

Those were the last words the young man heard as fell to the ground and darkness overtook his vision.

Kythra watched as Dace, bucket in hand, sent a splash of water into Raine's face. Sputtering, the old man jerked awake with a start, then looked up from the ground and started cursing at the mercenary. He tried to reach his hands at Dace, but quickly found that his wrists were bound to a horizontal hitching post behind his head. Tied as he was, he couldn't even stand up.

With spittle flying from his mouth in rage, Raine growled, "You're a dead man. Coming at me in my own home? Laying your filthy hands on me? How foolish could you possibly be?"

Without a word, Dace simply stepped aside and gave Raine a view of the arrangement they had set up in the middle of the stables.

"What in the hells is this?" Raine demanded when he saw Kythra. As he focused on her, Dace moved over to the side of the stable and began experimentally lifting different farm implements.

Kythra said nothing and followed the old man's gaze as it shifted toward the rest of the scene. She and Dace had dragged a long, empty wooden trough across the room so that it stood a few feet in front of him, and with some effort they had arranged his six bodyguards in a line behind it, facing their boss. Most of this was Dace's idea, and while she wasn't convinced it would work, she was willing to play along as long as it got them answers.

She looked over at the Raine's bodyguards, all of whom were down on their knees in a row. It had taken some time, but they were all bound in an identical fashion. Using leather reins and straps that would normally be fitted for horses, she and Dace had tied each man's ankles and wrists together, ensuring that none would be moving from their spot in the dirt. All six had been gagged as well, using whatever filthy rags they could find.

Right now, most of them were pointing their hateful gazes at her, save for the youngest one on the end, the one who had been guarding Kythra's cell before, who was now breathing rapidly through his nose and staring at the ground, wide-eyed.

"My father is dead, I already deduced that much," she began, "What I want to know is who actually killed him, and what was the arrangement between you and the traitors among the Family."

"If you think I'm going to tell you anything, you're even dumber than your brother."

At this point, Dace returned with a long-handled steel shovel in one hand, and his dagger in the other. Passing the shovel to Kythra, he addressed the group. "Organized crime," he said with some bitterness. "A contradiction in terms. You believe that being part of a group lends you strength. That you can rely on each other when your life is at stake, every single one of you." He paused a moment as he stared into Raine. "But that is a lie."

Raine spat at Dace, but it landed several feet short of the mercenary. "You're a snake who doesn't belong on my island, and you don't know a thing about any of us. My men are all loyal to me."

"Perhaps. But I know your type, and you do not share the same loyalty to them." Dace slowly paced behind the bound guards. "You all had your own reasons for joining with him. Maybe it was for coin, maybe to prove yourself, maybe it was for the freedom to carry out whatever dark deeds you revel in. But you all did so, because you sought to benefit yourself at the expense of others, and you were too weak to do so alone. Like pigs at a trough." He sharply kicked the trough twice, sending an echo through the stable.

The young lad with the black eye flinched at the noise. The horses nearby whinnied nervously.

Raine appeared unmoved. "Bah, if you're going to kill us, then get on with it, you damned worm."

"You are going to die, that much is certain. The question is which of these men you are going to drag into a grave with you."

Kythra stepped to the side of the trough and pointed at the crimelord. "I already told you what I want to know. Answer my questions, and I swear to you that your men will be released, unharmed." She gripped the handle of the shovel in both hands, then turned it in the direction of his men.

The old man scowled silently for a moment, then held his head high and replied, "I'll say nothing, you witch. Do what you will."

The first guard's eyes widened and he rapidly shook his head at his boss. Before he could react, Kythra pulled her arms back and swung the shovel across, putting all her strength into the swing. There was a loud metallic clang as the backside of the shovel struck the first captive in the back of the head. He pitched forward and slumped limply, shoulders hanging over the trough.

From behind, Dace seized the unconscious man by the hair and yanked his head up so Raine had a clear view. With the blade in his other hand, the mercenary slashed the guard's neck in a fluid, practiced motion, then let go and allowed the man to fall forward again. Several rivulets of blood began to run down from across the wound, gradually forming into a thick stream that fell from the man's neck, forming a red pool along the bottom of the trough.

Several of the other bound guards looked frantically between their dead compatriot and Raine, who swallowed, but remained impassive.

"Is this supposed to frighten me? These men all swore to serve me when I took them on."

"And did they swear to die for you?" asked Dace. "Unlikely. Even if they did, some men will say anything in exchange for coin and comfort." He made eye contact with Kythra as he said the last sentence.

Kythra stepped sideways so she was behind the second guard. "This one dies next if you don't tell me about your deal with those who betrayed me and my father."

Raine glowered at them and gave no reply.

This time, the guard tried to turn his head toward her and yelled some muffled curse through his gag. Dace nodded to Kythra, and she slammed the shovel blade against the base of the man's skull. The mercenary followed with the same throat-cutting process as before.

As they moved to the third guard in line, Dace remarked to the crimelord, "Men like you often speak of loyalty. You demand it from those subservient to you. Yet that trust only ever goes one way."

Again, Kythra demanded Raine answer her questions, and again he refused. After the third man was left bleeding into the trough, Kythra glanced over and saw that the bare-faced lad on the end was shaking. Raine, however, remained resolute and would just swear at the pair when they repeated their demand. At this time, the pooling blood from the murdered men had reached all corners of the trough, and was gradually filling higher.

By the time they dealt with the fourth guard, the young man would visibly wince at the sound of the shovel clanging against his colleague's skull. The sight of the blood in the trough below him was enough to make him turn away and squeeze his eyes shut.

"You are running out of chances, old man." Kythra paused a moment and stretched her arm. "And we haven't even moved beyond one question."

"I need no 'chances', you stupid blackhearts!" Raine shouted. All semblance of control in his tone was gone. "You'll receive no help from me. I'll take all of them with me, so long as it means I keep something from you!"

The fifth guard yelled something angry and unintelligible into the cloth around his mouth. Except he wasn't directing his gaze at either of his captors, but at Raine himself. It didn't matter to Kythra, and in short order he was dead like the rest of his fellows.

"And now we come to the last one. I'm surprised you so easily let your men die, when all it would take to save them is sharing a bit of information," said Kythra.

Dace grabbed the young man by the hair and forced his head around to face Raine. "Do their lives mean nothing to you?"

"I don't care a whim about him or any of them! Cut all their throats if you will, there is no shortage of fools in this city willing to work for me. But you'd best make sure you kill me, too, or I swear I'll deliver a fury upon you and your Family like you've only seen in nightmares!"

The young man started shouting something through his gag. Dace glanced down at the lad and asked, "You have something to say?" He reached forward and removed the gag.

"I'll tell you!" the guard yelled desperately. "I can answer what you want to know!"

Kythra didn't change her expression, but inwardly she gave Dace a mental acknowledgment. The blackheart's plan worked, and it had gone as he predicted.

"Keep your mouth shut, you cowardly dog! Don't tell them anything!" said Raine, now turning his rage against his own guard.

"I'm not dying for you, old man!"

Kythra stepped away from the last guard and moved around to the other side of the trough, looming over the old man. She tapped the metal end of the shovel against the hitching post, next to his head.

"The word came from Harken, about three weeks ago on her brother's behalf," said the guard, glancing between his captors. The words flowed from his lips rapidly, causing him to sound a bit slurred as he struggled to convey his answers. "They learned that Alagon was stepping down, and he was planning to pass full control of the Family to Kythra, even her brother's share."

"As I expected," remarked Kythra. She didn't break her gaze from Raine's seething eyes. "Rentris never had the spirit for the ugly side of reality."

"Your brother wanted to make a deal with my boss. If we helped Rentris remove you from the picture, he and Harken would then relinquish the Family's power and yield control of the island to Raine's Company." The young man swallowed nervously before continuing. "He- he'd rather hand over the Family's holdings than let you run it."

Kythra could feel her neck growing warm as her rage boiled. She looked down at Raine. "And you believed him? That my brother would just give it all away?"

Spitting at her feet, Raine sneered back at her. "Everyone on the damned isle knows your brother is a milksop. A bloody apologist for everything your father did to hold onto the island."

The lad continued, "Rentris wanted you left alive and out of the way, he even offered a bounty for you to be kept unharmed. Five thousand gold! But Harken's the one who approached us with the terms of the deal, and he tried to trick us into killing you." He nodded toward his boss. "But the old man has ears among the Family's agents. He heard the truth and kept you alive until he could decide how to use you."

Dace suddenly kicked the trough, sending ripples through the pooled blood. "Why is Rentris so eager to relinquish power? What would he even do next?"

"I don't know, ask him! Or Harken!" cried the young man. "Raine didn't care enough to ask why, so long as he profited from the deal."

"You damned coward," Raine hissed. "I didn't hire you just to crumble like sand! That's twice you've failed me. You'd best pray they do kill me, because if I get out of this, I will ruin you!" As the old man ranted, Kythra gripped the handle of the shovel a bit tighter. She glanced over at Dace, but he merely shook his head slightly.

The mercenary crouched behind the bound guard. The young man stared at Dace with fear in his eyes, instantly forgetting about Raine's threats. With an even tone, Dace asked, "Where is Harken now?"

"He was just here last evening, but when the fires broke out in town, he ran off through one of the old tunnels."

"What tunnels?"

Kythra knew what the frightened lad was babbling about. There were stone ruins throughout the island, sporadically dotting the city here and there, from long before Riftmere was settled. A few ruins marked underground entrances, passageways that ran to different areas of the isle. The few she was aware of were long since caved in, but if Raine's men had cleared one out, they would likely be using it as a smuggling route. Probably to move weapons or goods without the notice of the Family's people at the harbour.

The young man quickly described the path Harken had taken. "It runs south and east to a secret safehouse Raine has in the docks area. If Harken wanted to avoid the inferno in the streets, that tunnel would get him past the central district safely."

"At this point, I hope these blackhearts do slit your throat!" Raine yelled. Kythra slammed the steel spade of the shovel down into the old man's knee. Something cracked loudly, and though his voice was already hoarse from shouting at everyone other person in the stable, Raine instantly began howling in pain at the top of his lungs.

Meanwhile, the lad cringed. "Please, I don't want to die! I'm only here because I was trying to survive."

"Then you should have picked a safer line of work," Dace muttered. A moment of dread hanged in the air, and the young man squeezed his eyes shut.

Dace suddenly lunged forward, slamming the point of his dagger deep into the wood. The thudding sound of the impact made the young man flinch, and after a short pause he cracked his good eye open when he realized he was unharmed.

"We have what we needed," said Dace. He stood and gestured to the blade now sticking out of the trough. "And we will be long gone by the time you free yourself. Attend to your boss as you see fit." He leaned in, whispering behind the guard's ear. "But consider this: he was ready to sacrifice your life like it was nothing, and watch you bleed out like the rest of these swine. Is that the type of man you wish to serve?"

With that, Dace stood straight and walked away, toward the exit of the stables.

Glancing between Dace and Raine, Kythra hesitated as she considered her opportunity. The weight of the shovel felt a bit heavier in her hands as she thought about striking the old man down for good. With five men in the room already dead and bleeding out like cattle, what was one more?

She looked over at the young, wide-eyed guard, then just shook her head in disgust and threw the shovel into the trough, causing some of the blood to splash up against the side and eliciting a yelp from the lad. She followed Dace out of the building, ignoring Raine's screams and the curses he spewed after her. Kythra was done with the old man. The point was made.

Pausing just outside the stable doors, she turned and waited for a lull in Raine's epithets.

"Stay out of the Family's business," she warned, then receded into the shadows, leaving the violent mess behind.

The mercenary had already moved a fair distance from Raine's estate, forcing Kythra to double her pace to catch up with him.

"We have what we needed," Dace repeated as she came up behind.

"I thought you told Raine you were going to kill him."

"No, I said he was going to die." Without elaborating, Dace pointed south at a few decaying columns. Like Raine's estate, the ruins were situated on the same cliffside that overlooked the rest of the city. "Those are the landmarks the kid described. Harken has probably made it back to your brother's side by now, but we will use the route to avoid the blaze."

Looking out over the city, Kythra could plainly see that the fires had spread even further out, with most of the central district now consumed in the orange flames. Heavy plumes of smoke and embers billowed up from the area, making her glad that they were currently upwind. The first cracks of dawn were starting to emerge over the waters on the eastern horizon.

At first she was angry when Dace blew up the headquarters of the City Watch, and angrier still when it became apparent that the flames would spare no corner of the city. Her city.

But now, as she watched the burning buildings blanketed by clouds of ash, she could only think of what the lad had said earlier. That her brother would rather hand the city over to an enemy than let her have it. Kythra sneered at the burning cityscape and clenched her hands into fists as she came to a realization.

She would rather see Riftmere destroyed than let it be taken from her.

Dace suddenly snapped his fingers, bringing her out of her reverie. "Enough distractions, now we confront your brother."

"Hurry up, you mewling incompetent!" Raine barked, now focusing all his rage at the sole surviving guard. "All of this is your fault. Can't even mind a damn girl in a cell."

The hapless young man was now working to cut the leather straps binding his wrists. His hands were still bound behind his back, and he was still shaking from the recent ordeal. His wrists were chafing against the straps as he repeatedly tried and failed to blindly land the leather bindings against the edge of the knife. Raine's insults did little to help.

Finally, the blade cut deep enough into the leather material that the young man could, with some added effort, tear through the strap that was keeping his hands together. Exhaling in relief, he stretched his arms out and massaged the wrists, which were now bleeding slightly beneath the bindings.

With much effort, the guard yanked the dagger out of the wood, then paused a moment, staring at the weapon in his hand. He groaned to himself as he stood, then looked to the side at his five colleagues, all still slumped over the trough.

"What are you waiting for, you damned idiot? Cut my bindings, now!"

Hurrying around to the other side of the hitching post, the lad knelt behind his boss and brought the dagger up toward the leather straps that held Raine's wrists in place. He stopped before the weapon touched the bindings, and stared at the blade as a red drop formed at the tip. The edge was still stained with the blood of his five colleagues.

"You didn't even try to save them," the lad murmured, almost to himself. His eyes reflected back at him in the steel blade, tinged red.

Any semblance of the civility that the crime boss had shown in the past was gone. He didn't even bother to conceal his disdain. "Why would I? You all were supposed to protect me. Well, fat lot of good you ended up doing. They all paid for their incompetence, and you, boy, are out of a job after today."

"You were willing to let them kill me, too." The young guard felt his heart start to beat a bit faster. "Like another pig at the trough. Would my death have meant a thing to you? Do you even remember my name?"

"Why in the hells are you still babbling? Cut. Me. Free!"

Gritting his teeth, the young guard suddenly shifted his arm around in front of Raine, and then slashed the blade across the front of his boss' throat. Raine stiffened and clenched his fists, making a futile attempt to pull away, but to no avail. His last words came out as an incomplete gurgle as blood ran from his neck.

Throwing the weapon to the ground, Tivan stood and watched until his boss gave a final rattle before slumping forward, mirroring the dead guards facing him. The young man staggered back and fell against the wall, leaning against it on one shoulder. He could scarcely believe what he had just done.

Sliding down to the ground in shock, the young man held his head in his hands and could only stare ahead at the corpses in the room. The stables fell silent, save for Tivan's sobbing.