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- Aotearoa
Remember when we took the list to Regimand? We asked to get involved in what came next. Recall what happened.
To suggest Regimand did any less due diligence before sentencing the most significant name on the list, an Empress, to death is frankly beyond belief.
It wasn't immediate execution merely on the basis of a name appearing on the list. Instead, we investigated the person we were assigned in depth, interrogated her for further information on the cult to proscribed gods and co-conspirators, corroborated her guilt via confession, and only then made the judgement and then carried out the mandated death sentence.But if you insist..." he gives the list another look through. "Here. A peer of yours. Dame Sofia Hoffman, right here in Altdorf."
---
You did this a hundred times in your teenage years. Your Master picked a random citizen, and you tailed them for a week or two, learning as much as you could about them and then coming up with plans to kidnap, kill, or suborn them. But you never actually went through with it.
You've seen a lot of bloodshed since then, and caused your fair share of it and then some. Cold-blooded murder was not that far from the evils you'd paid unto evil in the past. You remind yourself of this often as you tail the young noblewoman, learning every intimate detail of her life. Her oddly formal and stilted relationship with her husband, her mornings sharing breakfast with young ladies of similar stature in the cafes of upper-class Altdorf, the needlework she's terrible at but perseveres at gamely. Nearly every detail of her life speaks of a normal girl of the middle nobility living a normal middle nobility life. The only missteps in her act are when she takes one of her friends aside for a brief but intense conversation, or the letters she pens in the middle of the night and then leaves wedged in a crack in the brickwork of her husband's manor.
You don't even know what crime she's complicit in, save that it snared a Grey Wizard and forced him to send his apprentice to Stirland to act as their catspaw. You spend many days wondering whether that's enough, and in the end, you decide that it is. That, and that this is what Abelhelm knew would happen when he gave you that list of names.
Luckily she doesn't share a bedroom with her husband. That would make things difficult.
It had been some local festival or another, celebrating Sigmar if you had to guess, and she had partaken rather heavily in Bretonnian wines. There were a thousand different ways you could gain entry, but in the end you opted for walking on thin air up to a third-floor window that had been left open. The house staff were all out enjoying the festival in their own way, and the guards were all at the entrances. The only ones within the depths of the house were you and your target. You walk the halls of the manor like a ghost, pausing to admire the occasional painting.
Finally, you reach the bedroom she has ensconced herself within, led by the sound of light singing. You slip silently into the room and observe your target as she tries clumsily to undo the intricate style her hair is bound in, and when she finally spots you in the mirror it's far too late. She tries to shriek, but Ulgu shrouds her in silence for just long enough. She stares at you in terror.
"Tell me of your society and of your fellows within it, and you can live," you lie.
Thankfully, she's too terrified to deny it. Information tumbles out, and you take mental notes. At first, a social club. Deeper, an organization for the mutual benefit of its members, trading favours in society. Deeper still, odd little rituals that bring luck and favour from frowned-upon Gods, tip-toeing on the edge of blasphemy in a manner designed to thrill, and you frown to hear Ranald mentioned. And deepest yet, the layer this woman exists within: scandalous and titillating rituals to a grab-bag of truly forbidden gods, to Khaine, to Stromfels, to Gunndred and Ahalt. What next, you wonder? Do they take the final terrible step into the worship of Chaos, or is all this designed to filter out those who would balk and drag people deep in before revealing to them their vampiric masters? Or is this a strange hybrid of chaotic and vampiric, or an intersection of two separate societies? Or did one suborn the other?
It doesn't matter, not really. The cure is the same. The woman spills names and levels in the cult, and you memorise them eagerly. And as the last name hangs in the air and the woman is babbling pleas for her life, you inhale Ulgu and exhale forgetfulness.
The woman freezes, then looks around the room, wiping confusedly at tears running down her face as her eyes slide right by you. She shakes her head and mutters something about wine before coming to her feet and staggering towards the bed, collapsing into it facedown. She's wriggling deeper into the sheets in an effort to get comfortable when your sword slices cleanly through her neck and deep into the mattress below.
---
The next day, as the city swarms with alarmed activity at the murder of so many members of high society, you pass on the names extracted to your Master, get a nod of recognition of a job well done, and disappear from Altdorf without any of its citizens knowing you were there. By midsummer, the entire society will be eradicated root and branch, and you will be free of their damned instructions.
To suggest Regimand did any less due diligence before sentencing the most significant name on the list, an Empress, to death is frankly beyond belief.
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