Chapter Four
At the centre of Tanath City lies a keep. Casting a shadow of weathered, grey stone and barred windows over the city. The final line of defence in older, more dangerous times. Unification of the warring provinces under the emperor stole the original purpose of the keep. Now it is occupied by city officials and the constabulary.
Office space and torture chambers.
This holding cell is not a torture chamber. But they have them. The walls are discoloured by dried, dead mould. The air is stagnant. Smoke from torches burning at the walls makes you blink and tear up.
The Master Constable sits opposite me, an ancient wooden table the barrier between us. He hasn't said anything since he got here. Apart from saying his name is Morgun Kendall. First he reads his notes, scrawled on parchment, arranged on the table, I know if I look down I can make out some of the words. I know he wants me to look. To be curious. He's finished reading. Now we are staring at each other.
Game face.
OK, I'll bite. I tell him that the others had nothing to do with this. That he can let them go.
He says, "Zoë told me they assaulted the Lancers."
Zoë said that? Has she talked? Has Zoë betrayed us?
He says, "Zoë also said that the Lancers started the incident. That they... attacked you. But the Lancers say that you started it, and your friends joined in. And you murdered one Captain Lorenzo Copolla in cold blood. They want you handed over to them."
He looks down, then up and says, "I believe Zoë's version of events."
Firstly, Zoë wasn't even there. Secondly, why does this guy believe a thief over the Lancers?
"She is a friend of my wife," he says. "And she says she was there."
No, she wasn't. Wait, back up, did he say, "friend of my wife"? Zoë is a friend of the Master Constable's wife?
"Ah-huh. A, uhhh, very good friend. But the fact remains that you killed an unarmed man. And somehow I doubt you were working to contract. That raises the possibility of murder. That will require an investigation."
I'm thinking, Please don't tell me you've already contacted the guild.
But I say, An individual has the right to defend themselves. That's the law.
"The right of defence does not extend to killing unarmed men."
Game face.
Is the Master Constable, defender of the City of Tanath, saying a girl should take her group frelling, smile and be on her way? He looks at me. I look at him. He looks at the table. The muscles at his jaw flicker.
"We'll have to let the law decide the matter."
Kendall says, "We did meet once before. But you obviously don't remember it."
I do remember him. We had met once, briefly. My Guildsergeant and I were here making contact with the town's officials with a view to setting up a local guild hall. This had been my one and only visit to Tanath. A little over a year ago.
I'd drawn the conclusion from that visit that Tanath would be a good place for a person to hide. Large, busy, still possessing a measure of independence from the central government. Someone could disappear into Tanath while working out what to do next.
As long as they didn't do something stupid and come to the attention of the authorities.
Kendall says, "Look, I'll be honest with you. I'm no fan of what you people do, but while you're in my cells I'll try to make sure you're treated fairly. But these days I have no sway with the higher ups. Your case will go through due process."
He scoops up his papers without a word and moves to leave. The interrogation is over.
I tell him that there's no need for the Guild to be involved in this.
He pauses at the door and says, "I have no interest in having those people in my city. But it's not up to me."
They say hope springs eternal.
The constables come to take me away to a cell.
It's three weeks later now and no progress. I am traditional and scrape lines in groups of five on the stone wall. In amongst all the other, older lines in groups of five on that wall. Cold flows off the stone.
My first night in here, a Senior Constable called Emrickt comes into my cell. Bushy eyebrows that almost merge into one, a ragged scar one his chin, he explained a prisoner's role. "This is how it works, my dark haired beauty." He told me that I'm sure to be found guilty and so will be spending a lot of time down here. He kept getting closer as he gives me the speech, till we're almost touching. He said that I will be expected to provide certain services in exchange for decent food and treatment. I was balled in the corner by the time he'd finished and he put his hand between my legs to clarify his meaning.
I considered his offer, replied politely but firmly, and he took his dislocated thumb and left. More constables came to punish me for that and those in the second rank dragged off the injured in the first rank.
That night they kept me awake by banging on the cell door and making graphic statements about activities my body is best suited to.
Kendall came by and asked if I am being treated well and I say, Yes.
There's no point in making more trouble.
This whole episode is a bigger disaster than it appears. Assassins are tightly regulated by the Assassins' Guild. It is very bad for business for the guild's representatives to get a reputation for being unreliable, evil, crazed, whatever. That's bad marketing.
We're about self-control. We're about discipline.
We're just another part of the community. Professional, discreet and efficient solutions. The elite. We have to file quarterly reports on our activities, undergo yearly performance reviews. Follow the rules.
So a pro hitter is not allowed to touch you unless it's contract-related, or you look like an imminent threat. Otherwise it's murder.
I've never murdered.
That Imperial wasn't a contract, but was he an imminent threat. Clear and present danger. He must have been. He attacked me. He started it, I finished it.
I am not a murderer.
Never doubt yourself. Believe.
I am not a murderer.
But other people's opinions count here. If the Guild learns of this and judges that this incident constitutes an unauthorised hit, that make me a rogue. Rogue assassins have the life expectancy of an Ork in the front row of a battleline. And there's good reason the Orks were wiped out.
A hit on a rogue is not quick, not clean. Especially not for an operative with my status. No, it will be deliberately unprofessional.
Translation: If the city of Tanath don't execute me, the Assassins' Guild will track me down and do the job. Even if I survive that, the Imperial Lancers will want a piece. Take a number, folks.
The most I can hope for is life in the relative safety of the Tanath dungeons.
Frelled.
I can't believe I panicked. I have never frozen like that before. If I had simply given them what they wanted, none of this would have happened. Instead my mind went blank. So embarrassing.
They were right when they said it was to raise troop morale. Servicing the guardsmen would have been beneficial for the security of the Empire. I see that now. It's so obvious.
This is why, a couple days after he first spoke to me, I accepted Emrickt's offer and assigned myself to him. An assignment that turned out to include two other Senior Constables. But this is good. It's been a while since I had a group assignment and must just be out of practise. It explains my failure with the guardsmen. I need to train more so I can face any situation with professionalism.
The only demands that I make is no permanent physical damage, and that they supply me with the herb that stops you getting with child.
"Trust me, slut. There won't be a mark on that pretty face for Kendall to see. This'll be the best time you've ever had."
I found that hard to believe.
Our first session was the most difficult. They are resentful over the injuries I inflicted on them earlier, when they tried to assign themselves to me without my consent. So they chain my arms to the ceiling.
In fact, they have a total lack of trust in my pledge of good behaviour. Emrickt required me to wear full restraints when escorting me from my cell to the lower dungeon. I shuffled there manacles at wrist and ankle, a chain from a metal collar linked to them both. I feel like I weigh twice as much with all this on.
They moved me after Master Constable Kendall has gone home. Presumably this is at night. Emrickt told me that if I breathe a word of this to Kendall things will get bad for me.
I nodded and didn't ask how things can get worse for a person in my position.
After being restrained and practising self-discipline while Emrickt ran his hands all over my body, we went down to the lower levels. To the torture chambers.
This is unimpressive. Much of the equipment here looks like it hasn't been used in a long time. The Guild's equipment is state of the art and kept shiny and oiled. The only stuff here that looks used is that which can be used to restrain someone. The rack, the stocks, the cage. And the chains I am hanging from, naked.
At least this means the gag they stuff in my mouth is clean. When the one with the potbelly called Frek finished buckling the leather strap of the gag at the back of my head, he says, "Not too tight is it?"
I made no response because I have a feeling he doesn't really care.
Ordinarily, I wouldn't let assignees like this restrain me. It's just too unpredictable and dangerous. But with three of them stripping me and then hooking me up, I couldn't really stop them. Not without inflicting injuries. But ordinarily I wouldn't accept an assignment to people like this. Desperate times, desperate measures.
The one called Brent cranked the wheel attached to the chain, pulling my arms above my head.
When they spread my legs with a bar attached to my ankles, that's when my heart started to really beat faster. That's when you feel open, exposed. That's when you know you're defenceless. There is absolutely nothing I can do to stop them now.
My senses come alive. The cold, musty air flowing over hot skin, flowing between my legs like a ghostly hand. I know my nipples are rock hard. I tell myself it's because of the cold. Tight bands cutting into wrists and ankles. On the balls of your feet. Tendons and muscle stretched tight. I can hear every sound with sharp clarity.
And when Emrickt runs the haft of the whip over my back, down the crack of my ass, something tightens inside me, down below.
Breathe, long and slow.
I close my eyes when I hear him spit on that whip.
Relax.
As he begins to worm the haft into my ass, Emrickt informs me that I am one dangerous bitch. I resist the urge to go up on my toes, 'cause that just tightens your buttocks and makes this more difficult. Instead I sag in my chains and focus on relaxing.
I bite hard into the leather ball as the whip handle slides into me and arch my back. Now is the time to go up on your toes, like you're trying to get away from it. He whispers in my ear, his breath hot and sour. He tells me that I'm gonna have to be taught who's boss around here.
He rotates the whip around inside me, left then right, and says, "I'm gonna break you in, girl. Make you a model prisoner."
They always make a speech along those lines.
His hand twists my nipple. I moan through the gag and twist in my chains, like I'm trying to get away from his touch. People that have done this sort of thing to me before, they like it when you struggle for a bit then submit. It's a variation on the more normal scenario where the girl is supposed to be coy, then let her lover have her. Bondage follows a similar courtship ritual.
Actually, the Ambassador of Xian-Li had to explain that to me. He said that me just standing there taking all stoically without a murmur was boring him. Let the assassin go, he said. Be someone else tonight.
And I did. And his guardsman was extremely skilled. And he made me cum under the touch of the lash.
The Ambassador was very pleased with my progress. I can still remember him, brushing strands of sweaty hair from my eyes, telling me not to be ashamed. That when I climaxed I was another person. That tomorrow I would be an assassin again, but not on this night.
I am not an assassin right now either. I'm just a defenceless girl.
Emrickt does not possess much skill with a whip. He wields it like a club. I squeak and shudder as the first blow cracks across my back. A second later and a line of molten heat burns across my shoulderblades.
Discipline.
I twist and writhe as the whip falls across me again and again. Don't shut it out, feel it. Pain gives you strength. I listen to my own moans and muffled cries.
He stops and asks me if I'm ready to be a good girl. I jerk away and give him a glare. It's not much of an exercise in self-discipline if he stops now. Really, I could take a beating like this in my sleep. You don't know what pain is until the needlers have had you.
He carries on, blow after blow. Burning lines criss-cross my back. I jerk under each stroke, writhe and moan. Show them what they want to see. Saliva drips down my chain and splatters on the dusty stone floor. Two searing lines are etched across my ass. I haul myself off my feet as my skin burns, like my body is trying to curl into a ball.
There's a pause while Emerickt moves in front and takes careful aim. I know where this is going. The bondage version of the killer blow is coming, to finish the victim off. I look up into the darkness of the ceiling.
He misses and the leather cord wraps around my ribcage, driving air from my body. I scream and shudder as the agonising burn encircle my torso. The chains clanks and twists in sympathy with my thrashing.
Amateur. I better not take this in the face. Then Kendall will know.
The next blow, when that whip snaps across my breasts, it's like my brain explodes. Agony so intense every conscious thought is driven from you and you're just drowning in a burning red sea of fire. I screaming through the leather in my mouth. The pain version of an orgasm.
Feel it. Feel every ounce of pain they have to give you.
My mind floats on a sea of endorphins. Gods, this is good.
He stops and I sag in my chains, defeated. Searing pain fading to a dull ache. Blinking away tears. Part of me wants more, wants a greater challenge. But that's the wrong whip to use on someone's breasts. Too heavy. Much more of that and I'll end up with some serious damage. Better to just let them win now.
There's cold hands on me, pulling my hips back. A strangers cock presses against me. I don't resist as this is the point where I'm supposed to be broken. My captors have triumphed and whipped me into submission. There's nothing I can to stop them taking what they want from me.
And when he enters my body, he slides in easily until he's penetrated as far as he can. Hips pressed hard against my ass.
"Oh, man she's wet," Frek says. "She likes it."
This would be shameful for an assassin. But not for who I am right now.
"Well, hurry the frell up. I want my turn."
I shudder, head flopping loosely as Frek withdraws and thrusts. "Sorry, this may take a while."
"Start the sand. We'll see who wins."
So they time who lasts the longest inside my body, the three of them. All from behind. The same position makes the contest fairer apparently. Frek is not happy with the result saying I was moving more at first, and moaning. It turned him on. By Brent's turn she was just a piece of meat, he says.
"Plus she was tighter first up. I greased the bitch for you."
They take the gag out and ask me if I understand how things work around here now. Am I going to be a good girl and do what is best for me?
I nod and try to shut out the sensation of a slimy trail tracing a path down my inner thigh.
Then, while I hang from my chains, they relax, drink and smoke, and talk. Then I'm shuffled back to my cell, fondled, and left alone.
So ended our first session together. It was a constructive exercise in self-control and self-discipline.
I lay on my stomach that night, and tried to shut out the sensation of my burning back. My hand between my legs, a hand on my aching breasts, I imagined Mathok is doing those things to me. I climax so hard I can't keep quiet. My cries echo around my cell. I wonder if he's in the dungeons somewhere, cursing my name for getting him into this mess.
At first, the constables come for me every night. Depending who is on shift it may be one, or two, or all of them. Initially the sessions are very constructive for me. I practise self-control and discipline. I practise sublimating myself in pursuit of my goal. The Guild teaches you that you don't own your body or you mind. They belong to the Guild, and the Guild employs them for the greater good. By letting these people possess me in this way, I practise this lesson. Everything can be made into training.
But the constables prove to be unimaginative. Soon I have to start suggesting things for us to do. Things that will test my self-control. It's easy enough to just take it when you're stretched out tight on the rack because you have no choice. But me crawling from one side of the room to the other on my hands and knees to suck cock, that takes control.
I suggested doing it in Kendall's office. I respect Kendall. He's a professional. Having his underlings frell me on his desk feels like betrayal. Makes me feel dirty.
I assured them I can take all three of them at once. They try it a few times then complain that it takes too much coordination.
I told them they're supposed to clean their cocks with my mouth after they've frelled me. I tell them ejaculate on me and let it drip down my body, cold and sticky, while I can't do anything about it. Come on, people, shoot on the girl's body afterwards. It's good humiliation value.
I'm on the verge of giving up. The people are supposed to be serial molesters, yet they struggle to do the basics.
They say I am one sick girl. I tell them, I'm sick? Who is coercing a woman into sex in a dungeon? They just laugh and call me Crazy Katrin.
This is the real problem. All too soon I go from the exploited victim to one of the gang. After they're done with me each night they tell me about their lives, they involve me in their discussions. They don't even bother to manacle me anymore.
We sit around a table afterwards and play cards.
It goes from being bound, beaten and violated to missionary and cuddling afterward. I'm trying to build mental strength here and now they're treating me like some sort of communal girlfriend.
I told them I'm getting bored with this. Frek asks for three more cards and said, "Well we can't play for money 'cause you don't have any, babe."
See what I mean? Once it was slut and whore. Now it's babe and honey.
I don't mean the card game. I mean, like our sessions. They don't even come for me every night anymore. Are they seeing other prisoners?
"No way, honey. It's just been busy lately is all."
"Trust us, babe, you are the best frell we've ever had. You are a fantastic lay." Emrickt pats my shoulder but I shrug him off. They exchange glances.
"Ummm, it's not your time is it, honey?"
No, that was last week. Remember you were just ass frelling me through it?
"Oh, yeah."
We played a few more rounds. Then inspiration hit.
I said, I need you to burst into my cell tomorrow and rape me.
Emrickt choked on his drink.
"You want to do it in your cell?"
No, I want to be raped in my cell. You have to surprise me, overpower me, and proceed to rape my body. Rip the clothes off me, hold me down and frell me as hard as you can. Anywhere you like.
"We can't rip your clothes off. You'd be down to only one set. Kendall will know."
Good point. Find me some clothes you can rip off me.
"OK. Some clothes. Tear them off you. Frell you hard."
No, rape me. Make it real.
"Katrin, we've never actually raped a girl before."
What? You've been dragging girls down here for years.
"But they agree to it before they come down. That's different."
They were coerced into it. My first night I was chained up, whipped and frelled. I was forced to submit at the end of a whip.
"It's a fine line, but it works for us."
"We were pretty pissed at you that night for beating us up too. We don't usually go that rough."
"That's true. And a struggling, screaming crying girl doesn't do it for me. I have two daughters you know. I couldn't take it if that happened to them."
They've lost interest in me. I no longer please them. That's why they won't rape me.
"No, babe, that's not it."
"Trust us, you are the only prisoner we're frelling right now. We're completely committed to you."
OK, we'll play another round of cards. If I win, I get raped. If I lose, I will, well, have sex with you.
They look at each other and nod. We play. I win. This means tomorrow I will be gang raped by a pack of sleazy prison guards.
Excellent.
This will be a true test of self-discipline and submersion of the self. Fear of this is what caused me to fail and end up here in the first place. The Order of the Black Rose permits no weaknesses in its operatives. If I have the strength to face this, I can face anything. No fear.
Assuming they do it right.
They don't do it right.
Emerickt delivered new clothes in the morning. They are spare set of constable's clothing. The tunic is so over size it reaches to my knees and I have to walk around with one hand at my waist to hold the breeches up.
He also tried to spread blankets on the floor. So I don't get bruised, he says. I chased him and his blankets out of my cell. A forced gang banging is not supposed to be comfortable, idiot.
They turned up two hours later. I can hear them coming, and then discussing what to do outside the door. This lowers the surprise value.
Then they burst in.
I collapse to the floor on my ass, legs spread enticingly and backpedal as they advance on me. No, I cry out!
They stop. Emerickt says, "Have you changed your mind?"
No, I'm saying no I don't want be raped, but not no as in no don't rape me.
"Huh?"
Just get on with it.
"Ahhh, OK."
Emerickt falls on my prostrate body. I twist and squirm and struggle to push him off.
He says, "Hold still, I can't get a grip on your tunic."
Rape victims don't hold still. They struggle.
I flip him off me and scamper to my feet, ending pressed against the wall. I say, Please.
I avoid saying Please Don't because I don't want them to stop again. Please is ambiguous.
Frek grasps my tunic while I stand with arms conveniently splayed. He rips the tunic open in only three tears while I wait for him to finish. Gods having your clothes ripped off you is a thrill.
His lips fall on my breast and I proceed to struggle in a weak and girly fashion to push him off me. His knees push my thighs apart and in the struggle my legs end wrapped around him.
Oh gods, I cry. And also, Close the frelling door someone.
"Sorry," says Brent and dashes over to close the cell door.
I pull Frek's head back by the hair. He says, Owww, leggo.
It's not up to the rape victim to let go. She has to be overcome.
Brent comes to his rescue and together they manoeuvre me half onto the bunk, face down. On my knees, bent over, my tunic is stripped from my body, my arms are forced behind me and I feel the cold metal bands of the manacles snap over my wrists. My oversize pants are pulled down my thighs in one motion.
They made me say what position I wanted to be raped in. I said, on my knees, arms behind my back, you from behind. This reduces the spontaneity of the exercise, but it is still a good position. Controlling, submissive, impersonal.
They're getting into it. Someone positions themselves behind me while and hand in the small of my back forces me hard against the bunk, crushing my breasts. I hear the sound of a belt being undone.
Wait, I say over my shoulder. What about the gag?
"Gag?"
I'm being raped by three men here. I'm naturally gonna scream my lungs out.
"But you usually just moan and whine."
"Yeah, it's very sexy how you do that."
I wasn't being gang raped then was I. Here I'm being taken against my will.
"Shit. You should have said something."
I thought it would be obvious.
They discuss the issue amongst themselves while I wait, bent over on my knees, my ass getting cold. Brent frees his belt. Frek me by the hair, hauling my head back, and prepares to stuff a rag in my mouth.
Stop. There is no way you are putting that in my mouth.
Frek drops my head onto the bunk. "What?"
I am not going to have an old handkerchief in my mouth. That is disgusting.
"But you're our victim. We can do what we want to you."
I twist so I can look back at him. I say, I am also an Imperial Assassin and you are not putting a snot-stained hankie in my mouth. There are limits.
He looks at his hankie like he's seen it for the first time and mumbles, Oh, right.
They just use the belt. Brent pulls it tight so it cuts into my mouth. Frek positions himself behind me again. I struggle as hard as possible to make the point they're supposed to be holding me down here.
There's a delay because Frek has to get himself hard again. I stop struggling so he can concentrate on stroking himself.
Then he pushes himself into me. And finally I'm being raped.
I'm not ready and he feels huge going in. I scream through the belt and arch and thrash. He withdraws and pushes into me again. Again I cry through the tight band biting into my cheeks, distorted words begging for mercy from my attackers. My back arches and my fists clench under the violation. His cock begins to move faster, his hand digging into my waist. The pants hold my knees together so I can barely spread my legs to ease the pressure inside me.
Brent says, "I think Emerickt is hurt."
Frek and I look behind us at the same time. Emerickt is lying against the cell wall, eyes closed, and purple mark on his temple starting to swell.
Frek's hips push forward and withdraw.
"He hit his head when you fought off his attempted rape, Katrin."
How embarrassing. Frek's hips are still moving, like they're on automatic. He works his cock inside me and says, "Is he all right?"
"Yeah, I think so. Just a bit groggy. I don't think he's gonna be in much condition to rape you for a few hours, babe. Sorry."
I flick my eyebrows at him, because they won't understand anything I say through this belt.
Frek picks up the pace again and I flop onto the bed. Inside me, he feels so good, but it doesn't feel like rape now. More just like sex. The moment is gone.
Brent says, "So what am I supposed to do?"
"Wait your turn."
"She wanted to be gang raped. How am I supposed to do that if I can do her mouth?"
"She's gonna scream if we take the gag out."
I shake my head.
"What's that, babe?" Frek stops frelling me so Brent can loosen the belt. I explain to them that the victim has been frelled into submission, and just wants to get out of this alive. They can do anyway they want to her now.
"Cool."
Frek pulls me back so I'm sitting on him, and Brent sits on the bunk and directs my mouth onto his cock. I push myself from one cock to the other. My chest tightens, the air is suddenly ice cold against my skin. Having two men in you at once is great. Three is unbelievable, the sensation of being so filled. But a man from each end is easy to do and so satisfying.
Especially when you're defenceless, and you can't stop them doing this to you. If you're defenceless, you're free. Free to experience what ever happens to you.
Brent slips down my throat.
Afterwards, when Frek and Brent have finished, I lay on the bunk and stare at the roof. My head is in Brent's lap, my feet over Frek's legs. Emerickt kneels in front of me and plays with my breasts. He tells me he's sorry he couldn't rape me.
"But I have a killer headache."
I say it's alright. We'll try again some other time.
I'm thinking I need strangers for this anyway. I need a real sense of danger. That's what's missing.
I wonder if they could just throw me in a cage with a pack of sex starved prisoners?
"I think we should throw you in a cage with one of those doctors that helps fix people's minds."
Presumably he means to turn me into some sort of brainwashed sex slave. No way that's gonna happen.
They have to go, they say, Kendall's meeting will finish soon. We shouldn't be discovered. I get kissed on the cheek and they leave.
I lay there for a bit and thought about spending my life in here. If I'm not executed after I'm found guilty. It wouldn't be so bad. I know what to do. Where to go. I know who to frell. I have my routine. It's kinda like the guild in a way.
So that was the last three weeks. The next day after my semi-rape, I'm just sitting, head buried in my hands. Hiding behind a curtain of hair. I've done push-ups off my bunk until I collapsed on my face, pectorals burning. Now I just do not move.
Breathe. Be utterly still. Practise self-control. Practise discipline.
There's a massive cockroach on my foot. Do not let it provoke you. It will move off in its own good time.
Discipline.
Now the door opens and Master Constable Kendall is there. He comes to see me everyday. When he asks if I am OK I give the same answers every day. I have an assignment and can't really take another one on right now. There's only so much frelling a girl can take. In the Guild, my ranking is quite high now because I am Black Rose. So there I am able to refuse many assignments if I want. But here my precedent is a bit low. There are technically quite a few people here that have rights to me. That is, Senior Constable or better. As Kendall outranks my present assignment, if he insists I can't really say no.
So best not to encourage him. Even if he is really handsome. And built.
He wrinkles his nose at the cell door. He watches something scuttle away.
He says, "Was that a friend of yours?"
Game face.
He pauses for effect, then gives up. "Hmmm, nothing, Just like Zoë said. Anyway, there are some people you have to see. Do you want to get cleaned up first?"
Frell that. What people?
Kendall won't say.
What of the others?
"They have been held in a safe house, on parole. They wouldn't leave town without you anyway.
"Except Zoë," he says. His voice drops in volume. She has been staying at his house, with his wife.
He says, "If anything happened to Zoë, Makherita said she would leave me."
I exercise self-control and make no response to the news that they're all safe. We look into each other's eyes for a moment, silent and straight faced, before Kendall indicates down the hallway.
It is unlikely that people want to meet with me. If the guild were here they'd just come down and haul me out. They'd get a writ from the Emperor's office and the Tanath Constabulary cannot refuse that.
So this must be Kendall finally requesting an assignment.
Upstairs we go. To where the air is clear, and the floor clean.
This is acceptable development. After all, my present assignment is going nowhere fast, and a Master Constable will give me higher status here.
Assuming I'm not executed soon.
Continued in Chapter Five
Post a comment