honor him. | chapter 5 - second nature
a simple assassination contract takes an unexpected turn.
This was where it all ended, but in many ways no one could fathom, where it all began.
Dunwall Tower had been where reigns started and ended, whether legendary or calm. Where calculated coup attempts took place, some successful, some condemned to death. Where the law that governed the citizens all across the Empire was made, where nobles and aristocrats and the like raced their voices during court. The gardens of the vast Tower used to be open for the general public to visit and relax in, though they were sealed off again during the late Empress’s reign - you guessed it was the Royal Protector’s order, to ensure the Empress was protected against any impromtu attempts against her life and rule.
Sadly, that had not been enough to keep the blade from killing her in the end, hence led to the new Lord Regent taking new precautions, many out of sheer paranoia, over the months.
From the rooftop you were perched up on for the last couple hours, you had a front-row view of the new installments the Regent had added to the once gleaming tower. By the Void, you were sure the entire city of Dunwall could spot the creepy-looking, steel installment of a safe chamber on the rightmost wing of the tower, along with the numerous tallboys venturing around the entire premises to spot any intruders. Being one of the very limited number of people who knew the truth behind this grand coup, seeing those additional structures made you want to tear them all down with fire and smoke. It made your blood boil to see the man guilty of all this chaos stay safe in his high-up tower while the entire city, the city he seemingly ruled, bled from their eyes.
So much had changed in the Tower District since the last time you were around. Witnessing the consequences of your actions first-hand as you roamed through the rooftops of Dunwall did nothing but deepen the crack in your pained soul. Under the purple and orange lights that the city’s pretty sunsets offered, the plague victims who sneezed and coughed and vomited in the back alleys proved to be a stark contrast. It was a city of opposites after all - across the river, a little further down the shore was a gentleman’s club, surprisingly accompanied by the close proximity of the Office of the High Overseer. A city where the poor wept under the doorsteps of the rich and noble.
And yet there you were, tasked with the mission of ending another noble life.
This would not be your first aristocrat who tasted your blade, nor would it be the last by the looks of things. Before, during your days of following your master’s orders without failure or divergence, killing anyone had been easy. A very well-trained assassin like yourself did not even bother shutting their eyelids after your target was on the floor, gargling on their own blood. Never before did you have any doubts.
This certain Pendleton, brother however, would be different. Your fellow assassins had delivered the innocent and pure Lady Emily, only a little child, to his forsaken brothers a mere four months ago. Over the years, rumors had been spiraling around that the three Pendleton brothers,the very three banes of aristocracy, had not been getting along well - with Morgan and Custis siding off together to keep their mining business running, the number of people they have enslaved and tortured only known by the Outsider. The very same two brothers who knew the location of the little heiress.
Brothers would be brothers - they would fight, bicker and argue, but they shared secrets. You hoped Pendleton would not be so shy to let you know what he knew before you put a blade through him.
Roaming on the rooftops came as second nature to you, with so much time spent running from tacklers and stray gang members looking for their preys for the night. It was liberating, to feel the breeze ghost over your overcoat, with the muffled sounds of your stealth boots across the tiles. That night had not been different - despite the numerous plans and kill scenarios going on in your mind, it was a short-lived blessing to be able to sneak and transverse across the rooftops as the illuminated Parliament building loomed in front of you, overlooking a vast square encircled with apartment buildings - no doubt occupied by the affluent who had influence on the court.
The previous adventures you had as a Whaler had brought you over to this part of town many times, so the horizontally stretched-out architecture with many ornate windows and well-kept white stone walls did not intimidate you like it had the first time. The long, red banners draped across the exterior, with none other than the Lord Regent’s silhouette pasted on them did, however. It should have been the light blue, golden-encrusted silk adorning the walls instead, their memory still fresh and aching from that wretched day when they stopped swaying in the wind.
That beautiful blue, reminiscent of clear skies, was the fragment of your memory that kept you on the drive to reach the little Empress, somehow, sometime.
Senses in your body were awakened as you crouched at the edge of a balcony, closer to the ground level but with a clear vantage point for the huge wooden doors. There exited two figures, their clothes and faces illuminated by the ever-blinding streetlights installed by the City Watch. The thinner, slightly taller one clad in finely-tailored ivory garments you could discern a mile away - your target. The muscular one clad in uniform on his side, however, you had yet to meet. Unknown pawns and intruders in any mission had been a huge risk, and you needed to see if you could get that nobleman alone.
Other members of the Parliament, slowly yet surely, started walking out of the double doors, following the pair’s lead as they descended the stairs after the session ended.
Some would head to their homes to their wives and kids, some would head to bars to drink their woes away. Yet your attention was on the pair of men, who were headed towards a back alley, their body language rigid and somewhat eluding.
Like they had something to hide. Needed some place to talk privately.
Behind the mask, you would raise your eyebrow in intrigue. What would Pendleton have to do with some uniform for them to head over to the back of an ale house to talk? Playing court politics was not exactly your particular area of expertise, you had been a foreigner to Gristol after all, but you knew this much - if it meant a secluded and hushed talk in a dark corner, it was more than just games played to win votes.
Making your way as you followed their movements albeit on the leverage that the roof provided, you spot them stopping near a row of wooden barrels, without a soul in sight while you loomed over to eavesdrop.
“So you think he will make it out? No one’s ever done that before, Admiral... this could either make or break us,” Pendleton spoke lowly, running a hand over his face in thought.
The supposed Admiral nodded, albeit hints of worry were etched in the slow movement. “He’s our only hope. We cannot go and save her ourselves - our reputation would tatter, and we need your nobility to work in our favor,” the man spoke in a gruff voice pensively, his arms crossed as he took a couple wandering steps around. His steps were calculated and had a certain rigidness to them, his tone of speech exuding authority - everything about him screamed some sort of military training background, which made him a little more dangerous to the mission for any normal assassin, but not for someone in your caliber.
Pendleton would let out a sigh followed by a slight shrug, crossing his arms to match his companion. “We would need someone on the inside, someone to unlock his cell when the time is right. Martin would know who to bribe. The man has more connections than me and I am the noble one...” he would say, sounding somewhat willing to co-operate with the Admiral.
As a professional assassin, you could care less what crime your victim was trying to plot next, let it be a near impossible one of infiltrating Coldridge. You just needed to get him alone, slit his throat and get paid -
“Good call. Though I give Corvo a one out of five chance of escaping, it is worth our efforts.”
The silent breath got hitched in your throat.
The mention of his name stopped you dead in your tracks, your heart starting to beat faster and faster out of your chest. So that was who they were breaking out of prison, that explained the quick and straight to the point nature of the conversation as well - his life would cease in less than two months at the hands of the prison executioner. Every single plan needed to be made in utmost haste and total precision.
Your mind then would drift to the Royal Protector, him in those noble clothes that were no doubt tattered by then, defending the Empress moments before her death, sending your assassin friends to their demise with his pistol.
The man who had nothing to do with this conspiracy, thrown on a dishonorable road, probably tortured every single day in that hole for a crime he did not commit. Who had everything taken away from him. If given the opportunity, you knew he would make it, you knew he would live - he had always been strong, so very strong to beat any opponent.
It sparked a glimmer of hope inside you, knowing that there were men out there in high places, planning to restore the rightful order in the Empire and bring back the innocent.
It only was a big shame that you were sent to kill one of them.
Noticing the conversation ending for the time being with the Admiral parting his way from the noble, your trained senses came back into play as you furrowed your eyebrows in full concentration. Your mind worked at an impeccable pace, combinations of different plans and scenarios going in them as you settled on one. The eavesdropping had given you so much information, and you would be a fool not to use them to your advantage, so you took off your mask in a quick motion before strapping it onto your belt - you would not need to hide your identity for what you were about to do.
Following the Lord onto the street, you would see him walking into his apartment, hastily making your way to his bedroom balcony through your well-performed transversals. Like any other elite assassin, you took your time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike your target and fulfill your contract at once. There he was, without a clue of what was bound to come, of what was lurking in the shadows for him - with his back turned to you, his hands rummaging through his vast chestnut dresser in search of something.
Perfect.
With your hand on your trusted blade, your quick yet quiet feet thanks to your padded boots would carry you over through the richly-decorated master bedroom, to be positioned right behind him, sneaking up on him with such ease. A swift and expertly controlled movement later, you would feel his breath get caught in his bulging throat as your cold steel rested against his unshaven skin.
“One move and I start cutting.”