(Speculation ahoy!)
Interlude - Obadiah
You weren't sure when things had gone sour; when a relative peace had turned into this cold and distant void, this terrible nothingness. You'd never really liked the boy, of course - he was vain, self-important, and egocentric like his father, but with added unpredictability and a startling lack of foresight. But at the same time, you'd assumed that the guarded agreement between you would last, even if there was no love lost.
You moved the knight forward on the board, then sideways a step - in reality, it seemed more like that step had been backwards - if not for one thing. Far from continuing the game you'd been playing, it seemed as if the boy had forgotten it altogether, and started a new one. His head was in the clouds, caught up in plans and dreams that you'd long thought he'd abandoned. Perhaps - perhaps there was a chance.
"I have reconsidered our arrangement," you said slowly, frowning at the board as your competitor's slim fingers picked up a pawn to move it. "I do not want you to continue. I don't know that the solution you offered me is - required anymore."
She didn't answer, her face a mask as she stared at you.
"Are you even listening to me?" You demanded. "I need time. Time to make sure of some things, of what I want." You gestured at the board, scowling. "The game has changed. I can't predict the moves anymore, and that means trouble. But at the same time, there's no guarantee that when he chooses his steps, they'll be bad ones. I have already seen signs that he might have had - an epiphany. I have to wait it out."
The lady sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Ah, Mr. Stane… You seem to be under a misapprehension about what I do, and more importantly, why."
"I know enough," you answered bluntly. "Three months ago, you told me that it would all be over soon. You told me it would be quick and clean! Instead you posture, and you dawdle, and make everything harder than it needs to be. I have problems to deal with, people to handle, and this is still hanging over my head." You scowled. "I am beginning to doubt how serious you are about delivering."
"Really?" She chuckled, leaning back in her chair languidly. "If you do not know whether you want someone dead or not, why did you come to me in the first place? Why hesitate now, after you have gone so far already? Guilt?"
You scowled, refusing to think about the things that haunted your nightmares, the terrible sights that played behind your eyes, every time you thought you were safe. "You don't need to know the reason. It's not something I will discuss with assassins," you said sharply. "I've told you that before, and I will say it again - you are just hired to do a job."
"Hired?" She shook her head. "Ah, silly man. You did not hire me. The money is merely to weed out the undeserving, the destitute; the true price of my work is much, much steeper." She cocked her head to the side curiously. "You may have reconsidered your decision, of course - but some things cannot be retracted, some things must come to pass. I am not the one you made a deal with, Stane. That would be my boss, who thoroughly savors every kill."
You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Is that so? Consider our contract void, then. You will not get the rest of your money unless you deliver me the target's head before he returns from his little exile, and complicates everything further," you stated. "Is that clear?"
She merely laughed as she stood. "Descending to mere threats now, Obadiah? I think not. You came to me, little man… and you will reap the price. The price of pain." She turned slowly, sighing. "Rethink your decisions, next time, or the price will be steeper still. Good night."
It was a silent minute later, as you sat alone in the dark, that you slammed your hand down onto the board, flinging chess pieces everywhere. Only a white knight remained upright.
