The Assassin's Blade

by H J Peterson

  He didn't, in fact. Lord Eltz had told Friedrich that he would be giving an address in front of Manfred II as the heir of House Eltz...

  Oh, hell! He'd thought that his father was talking about addressing the noblemen's council, not a state funeral that half of all Königstadt would be attending!

  "You know that address I'm working on for the noblemen's council?" Friedrich asked, his stomach suddenly writhing in him like a snake. "I... think there was a slight miscommunication about what that address was for."

  Katalin's face fell, horrified. "Oh, heavens: you're serious, aren't you?"

  "You've got to help me," Friedrich said quickly as the tailor walked in with the billing information. "You know how important this is: Eltz might literally kill me if I mess this up."

  "I know, I know," Katalin said. "You have your speech on you, right?"

  Sheepish and a little ashamed, Friedrich pulled a few papers out from his pocket. He wasn't actually supposed to have them on him: he'd been stressed enough about this address that she'd told him to leave it behind and try to relax, before he started to pull his hair out or something.

  Katalin held her hand out to him. "Give it here: maybe we'll be able to salvage some of this.”

  LIII. ADELRIC

  Adelric never thought he would ever be on the right side of an interrogation table.

  He had to admit: it was different than he’d imagined it being. He thought it might feel good, knowing that he was helping to put away somebody dangerous, but it didn’t. It still really kind of sucked. In fact, it almost sucked as bad as being on the wrong side of the table. He knew that the woman that sat on the other end of the table, her hands shackled to some cuffs attached to the table and her ankles shackled to each other, was a woman that was perfectly willing and capable of hurting innocent people, but he still felt terrible about it.

  Klara already looked awful, and she’d only been in police custody for an hour. Her auburn hair was falling out of her bun in stringy chunks, one of her eyes was swollen shut, her jaw was bruised purple, and some blood stained the corner of her lips red with blood, all from when she’d tried to escape on the way to headquarters: she’d taken one of the guards out with a kick to the groin and an elbow to the face, but as skilled as she was, she was no match for three armed guards and the shackles around her hands and feet. The guards had to knock her out with a sedative and had even muzzled her so she couldn’t bite anybody before they could drag her in the station.

  Klara was much calmer at that point, and the police had even been able to take off that muzzle, but Adelric was still on edge about her. She may have seemed a little calmer to everybody else, but he knew her better than any cop there did. That “rage-induced escape attempt” hadn’t been real: if it were, she would’ve gotten out without a problem. She’d been testing them, poking around to see what sort of defenses they had. Even in that moment, with her shoulders sagging in apparent defeat, Adelric could see her eyes scanning the room. Watching, waiting for her next opportunity. It was the reason why Adelric kept his hand in his sleeve, twirling a piece of coal between his fingers, just in case.

  Hiro, however, didn’t seem to have any such reservation. At least, if she did, she didn’t show it. She was cool as a cucumber, watching Klara with those calculating eyes of hers.

  It was crazy: he was looking at two of the toughest women he knew, watching them as they stared each other down, waiting to see who would back down first. The tension between the two of them was palpable, to the point where he felt like he would have to take a break from the room in a few minutes.

  But, he couldn’t do that: Hiro had said that she wanted him in the room. For some reason.

  “You have quite the rap sheet, Miss Schultz,” Hiro said as she began to go through the files on that table, glancing over the papers. “Ten counts of burglary, three counts of armed robbery, eight counts of assault, two counts of manslaughter, four counts of racketeering, six counts of terrorism, and… nearly fifty counts of disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, and petty theft. Each.” Hiro looked back up at her. “And none of that even includes the shit show you put on, today. That’ll put you at nine counts of assault and fifty-two counts of resisting arrest.” Hiro sat back in her seat. “Must be a record: I don’t think anybody’s been around the system as much as you.”

  Klara didn’t react. “You wanna tell me what I’m charged with, this time?”

  “Well, there’s the assault and the resisting arrest I just mentioned,” Hiro said. “You’ve also got two counts of terrorism, sedition, and attempting to commit terrorism under your belt, now. That’s enough for a judge to bypass a trial and order us to execute you right now. I bet Chief Berkowitz is asking a judge for an opinion right now, in fact.”

  “He ain’t,” Klara snorted. “You’re stalling, Inspector Ikeda. Like you said: I’ve been around the system plenty. I know a boy in blue that don’t have a damned clue what they’re doing when I see one.” She looked over Hiro, a disinterested look on her face. “Even when that blue boy has a bigger chest than the other bootlickers.”

  For just the briefest of moments, Adelric thought he saw Hiro tense up. He knew for a fact that Klara saw it, though, because he saw the corner of her lip go up into the slightest of smiles.

  “You wanna tell me about what ya want from me?” Klara asked. “I want t’ get a little rest before I have t’ go in front of whatever old geezer ya have lined up t’,” she held her hands up and made quotation marks with her fingers, “’judge me for my crimes against Vorbereicher society’.”

  Hiro pushed an artist depiction of the Archangel in front of Klara. “You’re going to tell me who the hell this guy is, and I’m going to get the judge to give you a lighter sentence: simple as that.”

  Klara raised an eyebrow. “What was that, honey?”

  “Did I mumble, or are you deaf, Schultz?”

  It was silent in that room. One second passed. Then two. Then three.

  And then, Klara did something Adelric wasn’t expecting: she shook her head, looked down at her wrists, and began to laugh, as if that whole situation was just one big joke.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said, looking back up at them. “You. Want me. T’ nark. On the Archangel?”

  “I don’t know how I could possibly make this situation any clearer, Schultz.” Hiro sounded annoyed, impatient. Just about ready to sock Klara in the face to get her to take that situation seriously.

  “I’m no rat, inspector,” Klara said, folding her arms as best she could with her wrists shackled. “I don’t care what sort of deal you people think you can get out of the judge: nothing a ‘jai lickarse” she pointed at Hiro with an accusing finger, “and a canary” she pointed at Adelric, “can do or say t’ get me t’ do any different.” She sat back in her seat and began to drum her fingers against the table, apparently bored. “Now that we’ve got that settled, ya should get me to a cell.”

  “I think I’ll be the one dictating things, actually,” Hiro said, her face flat. “We’re staying right here until you make the right decision.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “I can do this all day, Schultz. They’ll be bringing Biermann and me some food, but you? Not so much: you’ve been in the system long enough to know that they don’t bring food to prisoners in interrogation. Believe me: I can outlast you. I can outlast you a hell of a lot longer than you could me.”

  Klara leaned across the table, a confident smirk on her face. “Oh, I’ll let you in on a little secret, little miss inspector. You may think you’re all tha’, but you ain’t nothin’. Ya want t’ know how ya got through the police academy, missy? Because that commissioner and that chief o’ yours needed some good PR. You may think you’re all scrappy, but ya ain’t. I know ya went t’ some private girls’ school growin’ up. Compared to me, ya might as well have had everything handed to you on a silver platter. Believe me: I can outlast a prissy little girl like you any day of the week.”

  Adelric di
dn’t even have to look at Hiro to know that Klara had struck a nerve. The biggest nerve for Hiro of all.

  “You think I’ve had it on easy street?” Hiro growled, leaning forward, again. “Let me tell you a bit about what my life has been like. I’ve lost my father, watched my mother wither away in front of me, went through hell to get here, was imprisoned and held in a barrack with fifty other women and not a single familiar face for a few days, and worked my ass off to keep myself off the streets and to rise in a society that would just love to watch me crash and burn.”

  Adelric just about wet himself when he saw that look on her face, that… fire in her eyes. She was a woman on a mission, and he didn’t think heaven, itself, could stop her if it tried.

  It was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen.

  “You don’t want to get in her way, Klara,” Adelric said, hoping he’d be able to back her up instead of tear things back down. “Trust me: she’ll skin you alive before you’d even know it was happening.”

  Klara snorted and rolled her eyes. “You know what the reward on your head is? Two grand. Alive.” Another eerie smile. “You ain’t forgotten what happens when Bator gets his hands on live songbirds, have ya?”

  Adelric felt like he was going to throw up. He knew all too well what Bator did to narks: he had nightmares about it at least once a week, and had since he started planning his way out of that life.

  “You want to know what the boys in general population do to girls like you?” Hiro asked without missing a beat. “Then again, you’ve been in the system long enough: I bet you could figure it out without too much of an imagination.”

  Klara sighed, shaking her head. “You just don’t get it, do ya?” She looked back up at them. “The Archangel has people everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.” She looked around the room. “In fact, I’d be willing t’ bet every mark I have that he’s even got some coppers like yourself stashed in his pocket.” Another confident smirk. “I don’t plan on being down there all that long, little miss inspector. I’m going t’ walk right out of here a free woman, and there ain’t a damned thing you can do t’ stop me.”

  Before Ikeda could reach right over that table and strangle Klara, the door to the interrogation room opened and an officer poked his head in. “Ikeda, Biermann: chief wants to talk to you.”

  Hiro didn’t question the orders to let Klara stew in the interrogation room, but she sure didn’t seem all that happy about it. She stood up and got her papers in order, her face flat.

  “Think about it, Schultz,” Hiro said, tucking her papers under her arm. “And pray to heaven that the offer still stands by the time I get back.”

  Hiro left, leaving Adelric alone with Klara.

  He stood up and walked to the door.

  “There’s a storm coming your way, Biermann,” Klara said just as he reached the door. He turned around to face her. “I suggest you get the hell out of its way.”

  “What are you talking about?” Adelric asked, shoving his hands into his pockets before she could see them shaking.

  “You think he’s going to sit around forever?” Klara asked. “He ain’t. He’s going t’ come down on you and that bitch inspector of yours like th’ righteous hand o’ God, and it ain’t going to be a pretty sight.” She clenched her fists and her eyes narrowed. “And when I get out of here, I’m gonna make ya regret the day you were born. I’m gonna find ya, tear ya into pieces, make ya beg me t’ hurry up an’ kill you. And there ain’t a thing you, your bitch, or your parlor tricks can do to stop me.”

  Adelric didn’t wait to see what she would do next. He didn’t even offer up any sort of retort. He just got the hell out of that room, heading right out the door of the interrogation room.

  He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, relieved to be out of there. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until then.

  “You alright, Biermann?” Hiro asked, making him jump. “You look a little shaken up.”

  Adelric turned and forced the words out before he could stop it:

  “Hiro, I don’t think I can do this, anymore.”

  LIV. FRIEDRICH

  “Friedrich, you’re going to do just fine.”

  He looked back at his wife and attempted to smack a smile on his face. The fact of the matter was, he was too nervous. His father, in his infinite wisdom, had gone and gotten himself absolutely drunk off his rocker. The night before a very, very important meeting with the king’s council. They would be discussing a proposal put forth by some commoner government officials, one that many men in the government questioned the very legality of: a proposal to create a government welfare program to help all the people in Vorbereich that couldn’t help themselves. The men of the noblemen’s council had refused to hear it until the king’s council determined whether or not the proposal was even legal, since civilians weren’t technically supposed to put forward proposals like that. The question of the day was whether or not the fact that they were government officials trumped the fact that they weren’t part of the nobility.

  And, thanks to Lord Eltz’s condition and the fact that he was now of age to participate in government, it had become Friedrich’s job to go before the emperor, the general of the army, the police commissioner, and the ministers of all the major parts of the Vorbereicher government. Nine other men, in total. Nine of the most important men in the country.

  “A-are you sure?” Friedrich asked as he allowed Katalin to straighten his collar. “This is probably the single most important meeting of my life, so far. If I screw this up, my father will never forgive me.” He slicked his hair back, his hand shaking. “If things go too horribly, I-I might even lose that job over in Staatsberg. I might not be able to get any government job if it’s too bad. The house will crumble, we’ll become paupers, and I’ll spend the rest of my life working in some factory-“

  Katalin didn’t let him continue. She gently pressed her hands against his cheeks and forced him to look down at her. “Friedrich: relax. None of that is going to happen.” She smiled. “We’re going to be just fine. This little relationship of ours has survived far, far worse. If we’re going to be paupers and live on the streets, so be it. I’d rather live my life in an alleyway with you than in the grandest palace in the world with any other man.”

  “Do you really think that?” Friedrich asked as Katalin gave him a hug.

  “Of course, I do,” she said. “Why else would I marry the bookish man most of the women here think is some orthodox Gerechtist?”

  “Well, if you listen to my father, it’s because you want the Eltz fortune,” Friedrich said.

  Katalin gently slugged him in the shoulder. “Oh, hush up.” She began to brush off the front of his suit, cleaning off any dust on the front of it. “Now, do you know what you’re going to say to the council? I don’t imagine you telling them what your father said to.”

  “I… don’t think I will,” Friedrich said. “Not when I’m

  “I see why you’re so nervous,” Katalin said. “I guess I don’t need to tell you that Lord Eltz isn’t going to like that.”

  “You don’t,” Friedrich promised. “And I know that the people on the council aren’t going to exactly enjoy it, either.”

  “Well, you know how much Dunram’s theories are making a comeback,” Katalin said, touching up his suit a little more. “I bet you aren’t going to be as alone as you think you are in there.”

  Friedrich wished he could share in his wife’s optimism. She wasn’t wrong, exactly: Dunram’s political theories were making a resurgence, thanks to all the hostilities towards the nobility. Of course, that was all among the lower classes, who all saw the ways their birth had disadvantaged them. Despite the fact that that made up the grand majority of Vorbereichers, the nobility were, by far, the loudest party in the debate. It was an old story: the nobility had a knack at ignoring the lower classes and going along with their own plans, without much of a consideration of what it was doing to the common people.


  He knew that speaking for the people might not help all that much, but… well, they weren’t hearing the commoners when they spoke: it couldn’t possibly make things worse, right?

  “I-I don’t think I can do this,” Friedrich said, nervously drumming his fingers against the sword at his side. He looked at his wife. “What would you say to being the first woman ever to participate in the king’s council?”

  “As great as that sounds, I’m going to have to decline,” Katalin said as she walked over to his desk and picked up some papers. It was his notes on why they should allow the citizens’ proposal to be considered in the councils, with cited sources and counter arguments to all the arguments he could think of against him. She handed the papers to him. “You need to do this, Friedrich. I may not know Manfred II very well, but he strikes me as the kind of man that will respect you quite a bit just for speaking your mind. Especially when it isn’t necessarily the most popular of opinions.”

  He’d spent the carriage ride to the Vorbereicher House going over that conversation in his head over and over again, and going over all of his notes. None of it helped: all he could think about was what this whole mess might do to House Eltz’s reputation, the one thing his father cared about.

  It didn’t help: not one bit.

  “’scuse me for being frank, Friedrich, but you need to calm the hell down,” Maddox said as they got out of the carriage and stepped foot into the courtyard of the Vorbereicher House. He was still recovering from Friedrich’s wedding day, his injured arm in a sling. The Docs, though, had done a very good job of fixing him up: the sling was only there to keep him from overusing it, at that point. “It’s a stupid meeting: do you really think this is going to haunt you for the rest of your life?”

  “Yes, actually: I do,” Friedrich said, tugging at his collar. He thanked Chayim for bringing them out there, and they began to walk through the grounds of the meeting house as Chayim took the carriage away. “You how much reputations mean in this place: if I’m not careful, I’ll ruin my father’s standing. I’ve done so much these days that have pissed him off, but if I mess this up...”