Iskra strolled through one of the large garden courtyards, usually the denizen of lovers hoping to be secretive, or older ladies of the court getting some sun and gossip.

She grinned slightly. It had been too easy getting in. Her contact in the palace ever reliable had somehow gotten her name on the lists of visiting nobles and she had been admitted. To all intents and purposes in the palace she was now Lady Grace of Selmuir, a small fife in Galla.

Her apperance was quite remarkable. She was disguised in a long blonde wig, face makeup that made her look more tan than she was naturally, not to mention far more girly, and which covered her scar, and a scarlett dress befitting a minor noble. Of course she had a small arsenal of weapons hidden inside the gown.

She settled on the bench her contact had directed her to in the message and waited.

"I just hope no empty headed nobles get any ideas about making conversation." she muttered.

John strolled down the courtyard, making idle chit chat with people he knew and trying not to get so deep into a conversation that he couldn’t not extract himself in time to meet his contact.

It was rather boring being a palace knight. His horsemanship, or lack thereof, was well known and rarely did he get an assignment. So he had devoted his time to clearing Corus of riffraff and scum that lurked in the seedy underbelly of the seedy. He’d leave the thieves. As much as no one wanted to admit, they were an economy staple and there were so many that he couldn’t have done anything about them if he wanted to. Besides more would trickle in to take their places.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a woman dressed in red seat herself on the bench. He excused himself politely and walked over to her. He bowed. “Lady Grace of Selmuir?” He asked.

Iskra smiled and bowed her head a little graciously. Putting on maidenly airs and graces did not come naturally to Iskra. This young man looked like a noble, not at all what Iskra was expecting. She gestured to the seat next to her.

"Do sit sir it is too hot for standing around."

She decided to try the phrase that would identify her contact.

"Have you heard the latest news from Galla? I hear there are storms there!"

Smiling and with a small nod of his head, he seated himself lightly next to her on the bench. He nodded his head. “Tis a pity, milady, but I do not think they shall come south,” he responded as if trying to soothe her fears. “They rarely do,” he added as a finish to the code phrase. Idly he brushed away a speck of dirt from his shirt and while his gaze was downcast he studied the woman on the bench. She fit her part well. He looked up and gave her a smile.

A smile touched the corner of Iskra's mouth. So this was the gentleman who had brought her all the way to Corus. Interesting and not in the least what she'd expected. She'd worked for nobles before but normally ones that were safely tucked away in distant fiefs.

She flipped open a fan, then dropped her voice so it was barely audible.

"So care to explain why I had to dress up as princess feather head in order to get details of my mark?"

John shrugged and said in equal cool, quiet tones, “Care to move somewhere a little less populate?”

There were far too many prying ears and searching eyes. Far too many people who would jump at the chance for advancement and a daring story to tell at parties and gatherings to make them look brave and selfless. He didn’t really have any enemies at court, not did he truly have any allies. He didn’t have much interest in politicking.

"Sir," Said Iskra out loud once more, "shall we walk?" She stood smoothing her skirts out, doing her very best impression of maindenly good grace.

Only Iskra's eyes betrayed her business-like manner, being as cold and hard as ever.

She tucked the fan out of the way into her belt and waited for her companion to offer his arm.

Iskra had to admit to herself, she was completely intriegued by this young man, what could possibly motivate a noble to bring her kind of buiness to his doorstep.

“A wonderful idea, milady,” John swept another graceful bow and offered his arm to ‘Lady Grace’. He led her through the gardens seeking a quieter place for the two of them to talk. If anyone had paused to study John, they would have merely been met with the not-so-unfamiliar sight of him being kind to a new court lady. He kept himself completely at ease.

Iskra made some twee comments along the way as the walked to a more secluded spot, however, when they reached what looked like a litte used corner of the gardens she dropped the polite smile from her face and was all business.

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "And so we come to it. I hope I'm risking my Lord Provosts noose for a fair good reason."

John dropped the court farce as well. “So we’re getting to the heart of the matter---that payment? Unless you truly want to know my reasons for wanting this merchant out of the way?” He pulled a pouch from a concealed pocket and held it out for the assassin, but kept it close to his body and on the side of his body next to the wall. “One hundred gold crowns, you’ll get the other three hundred upon completion of the task.”

"I must admit," replied Iskra "I'm curious as to what this man has done to deserve such an end and to why a noble is getting tangled in such business. Doesn't this contravine your precious Code?"

She eyed the man for a second. His face was completely unreadable.

"Either way," she added "it makes no matter to me, his end will be the same good reason or no."

She made no move yet to reach out for the money, she prefered to see what happened next.

“Against the Code, yes,” John admitted. “There is little honor left in the world and none in his, the way he has dealt with people I don’t think he should be expecting any honor in the way he leaves this world.” He raised his chin stubbornly. “Lord Provost’s men have turned a blind eye due to bribes while he grows in power and riches while he ruins other’s lives. I want him out of the way.”

"Do you have a problem with that?" He asked cheekily.

Iskra smiled coldly. She was not picky about who her targets were, only that the right price was paid, but dispatching someone with no redeeming qualities gave her a grim kind of pleasure.

"Every day there are less and less things I have a problem with doing."

She contemplated what she might need to know about the target.

"You clearly think him better off out of this world, who am I to argue. What's my guarantee that you're not going to hand me over to the Provosts men as soon as the job's done?"

“I suppose asking an assassin to just trust me wouldn’t be highly ethical,” John replied, a smile quirking his lips. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. Even his sharp mind was drawing a blank at any possible way that he would trust a noble if he was in her position. “Do you have an idea?”

"Yes I'm not too fond of taking people on trust I must say. An oath to a god of your choice should do it. I presume you're not keen to have your blood boil in your veins."

Swearing a blood oath on a god's name was an unbreakable bond, the risk of a painful death was enough for most people keep them quiet. It had served Iskra well in the past.

"and of course there is the fact that if I go down, I will take you kicking and screaming with me one way or another." She flashed a falsely bright, polite smile at John.

She pondered a little longer, "And of course, if you get caught first I will vanish. Don't expect any favours from me, but then of course, I imagine you know that."

“You can expect the same for me,” he nodded.

John’s faith in the Gods was stagnant. If they still existed, they probably had better things to do than look after him and make sure he kept his promises, but, what the heck. He shrugged idly and raised his hand to shoulder level, “I do so swear on the Black God that I will uphold my end of this bargain.”

"so mote it be." replied Iskra. She was by no means a devout religious woman, but she held certain unmovable beliefs, few of these nagged her concience though.

"So tell me a little about this bottom feeder, does he deserve slow and painful or is it quick and quiet? I have some quite charming poisions, but at the end of the day, nothing beats a blade in the back." She grinned wolfishly. Such talk often made her employers squeemish, however she had a feeling it would take a lot more to furrow this noble's brow.

John raised a brow. He hadn’t really been expecting a consultation of the whole thing, but it wasn’t clubbing baby seals to deth.

He shrugged “Not much to stay, he’s a crooked business hand with more on his hands than even you probably. He takes out his fair competitors by either treachery or fraud, and snaps up their profits and business. He’s stacking the market in his favor, dropping prices low to get rid of the rest of his competition. While meanwhile, he cuts his workers’ wages to nearly nothing but still keeps himself living in luxury.

“I would prefer that it be as quick and clean as possible, a chance mishap.”

Iskra inclined her head a little, "So be it." She could understand anger at a man who abused the poor and needy, she had seen people expolit the poverty and suffering in Scanra in the many years following the wars, even forty years on there were still great problems in her homelands.


"There are all kinds of accidents one can have in the city, terribly dangerous place."

Once more businesslike she said: "I'll send word when the deed is done and come to collect the rest of my payment. You know how to reach me should you need to."

She put a hand out for the payment.

John nodded at her. For the barest sliver of a second, he paused to think about what he was doing sending someone off to kill another human. But he merely blinked and dropped the pouch into Iskra’s hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Iskra tucked the purse down the front of her dress, the only place she really had to put the money away without revealing any of her weapons. It was quite un-ladylike, but as Iskra often said, she was no lady.

Iskra dipped in a slightly mocking curtsey.

"Well sir, pleasure doing business, and may the Black God welcome this slug with open arms."