Assassinations are a messy business. Both a silk rug from Dresna and a throne csilk rug from Dresna and a throne carved out of wood from the Bruan Isles were ruined. Even if the servants could get the blood off the carpet, the smell of burnt flesh would never come out. Dressed in a mixture of red and black, a man paced the throne room. His uniform had been white just a few minutes before. The rug underneath his feet crunched as he walked, his steps making its burnt form crumble underfoot.

  The man repeatedly rapped his cane against the ground as he waited for someone to arrive. He brought a gilded pipe from his pocket and pressed his finger inside, lighting it. Sparkweed had always seemed to calm him. Too late, he realized this time it wouldn’t help. He felt the enhanced perception hit him, but instead of giving him the sense of safety and control it had in the past, the smell of burning flesh came. It invaded his senses, making him stumble, but he was accustomed to violence. He took a long drag of his pipe. He deserved it, he thought, for no deity should stoop to the dirty work he had.

  Stepping over charred corpses, he bent down to study the least disfigured creature. For it was indeed a creature, not man. Around its eyes were dark shadows, like the markings of a raccoon. They were smaller than a man, with clawed hands and feet. They were dressed in loose cloth with intricate patterns across it. He turned the creature over with his foot to find a small bushy tail sprouting from the lower back. The weapons the creatures brought were carved wood, unnaturally sharp. A jarring pain shot through his arm as he reached down; one of the creatures had cut him across the shoulder. He would have suffered a mortal wound if not for his armor. Another reason he wasn’t being paranoid, as his advisers suggested. The threat against him was real. He did not even notice the creatures until they attacked. They were odd things. Monstrous things.

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  “What are you?” he murmured to himself. At that moment, he heard the sound of gaurds, their armor clinking as they rushed into the hall outside. This would cause too many questions. Proof of an attempt on his life would back up his claims, but he didn’t need questions about what had made an attempt on his life. In a heartbeat, his hand started glowing orange as he pressed it into the creature. The thing sizzled and bubbled, and the stench permeated the air. He stood, a funeral pier of his own creation littered the floor. As he took another puff of his pipe, a group of highly armed soldiers stormed into the room and surrounded him.

  “Men, defensive formation!”

  The order came from a woman with a white feather stretching from her helmet, the one soldier not surrounding the original occupant of the room. She turned to address the man in bloody clothing.

  “My liege! Are you okay? We heard a commotion in thy throne room!”

  “I’m fine. Stand down, men. The only threats to me have been dealt with. What is the point of mine own personal guard if they do not protect me? That assassination could have taken my life. I’m disappointed in you, Commander.”

  “I’m sorry, Lord,” the soldier fell to her knees, “I have failed you. Take my life if it pleases you, my liege!”

  “This attempt on my life is proof that there is a conspiracy against me. For now, you are stripped of rank.”

  “Sir, I-”

  “You are stripped of rank as captain of the guard to be placed in a new position. You are to head an investigation on what happened here.”

  “Oh Sire thank you!”

  “Do not fail me again.” He turned to leave. The royal guards followed behind, leaving their former captain still kneeling in the ashes.