Drip-Fed

Reysha did not share her party members’ opinions on a lot of things. The importance of life was one of them.

Her sociopathic days were behind her. Risking other people’s safety for her own convenience was a line she was no longer willing to cross. Simultaneously, she was still ready to kill people. She regretted a lot of death she was responsible for. The manner in which she had executed the Inquisitor, the death she brought to an entire city, but she did not regret all of them. The warden that she had killed by biting through his throat had it coming.

She wasn’t who she used to be.

She still was herself.

That was why she had to evaluate very carefully what she would do. She was willing to kill, perhaps even too willing. Was she doing it to impress the hot cold woman, or was she doing it because she was convinced it was the right thing to do?

There was no one around to turn to with that question. Reysha squatted on an overhang on the side of an ice cliff. Part of the frozen wastes surrounding the city were not flat but consisted of a multitude of cracked valleys created by steam and tectonic movements beneath the surface.

It was the logical area for a rebellion to hide. The many angles of the area made it difficult to manoeuvre on the ground and the singular colour masked everything. During the day, the intense reflection of the sun killed any distant visibility. Simultaneously, it was close enough to run supply trains back and forth to the City of the Wastes. It was a natural fortress. No one would have marched an army on it.

‘Kind of sexy to be deadlier than an army,’ Reysha thought, then shuddered against the cold. She was wearing only her casual clothes, not trusting the many layers of the wintery garb to stay out of her way. Though her high Level provided her with resilience to survive the freezing temperatures for a time, it was not what she would regard as pleasant.

She would not stay there for long.

Her perch eased the suppression of her presence. The patrol passed by beneath her, none the wiser of her presence. That counted for both the heavily covered man and the wolf-sized sled dog.

Once they had passed by the tiger woman, she dropped down and followed their tracks backwards. They were thin remnants on the wispy layer of snow that covered the permanent ice sheets, white on white, but Reysha was beyond sharp-eyed. As she walked, she continued to think.

The responsibility of the decision had been put on her. She preferred to act after Apexus and Aclysia worked out whether something was just or not. Their inability to reach a clear verdict here was annoying. It also didn’t matter. Reysha wasn’t just a blade in the hands of her leader and the angel, she was her own person. It was for the best that she was given conundrums sometimes.

An unassuming gap in the ice was the origin of the tracks. Reysha listened closely, ensuring that there were no heartbeats awaiting her on the other side. When there were, she remained still for a little while. ‘Guards,’ she thought. She trusted in her ability to suppress herself, then pressed into the gap.

She had to move sideways. The narrow passage would have been impossible to move through unseen even with Sneak. It required Stealth and a high level of it to make it out to the other side without alerting the two guards. Carefully, she walked past them, suppressing the urge to tap one on the shoulder.

The base beyond that was quite normal. That it was made from ice rather than stone was a bit novel to Reysha, but beyond that it was every outlaw’s standard cave system, with various chambers for various purposes. It took her ten minutes, but she stumbled across the office of the leader in due time.

There was a bit of luxury to the chamber. The floor consisted of a rock that had been stuck in the ice and the walls were decorated with carpets. The room was kept warm by a fireless rune situated between a desk and a bed, both made from wood, with some pelts added for comfort.

Her target sat by the desk, furiously writing letters. Reysha hazarded the (correct) guess that he was reacting to their presence in the area. The messenger boy was the reason why Reysha had managed to find this hideout so quickly. She had effectively travelled with the news that they had declined the meeting.

Reysha strolled over to a second chair in the room, making it a point to drag it across the stone. Immediately, the man whirled around, drawing a dagger he had kept in a sheathe strapped to his chest. When he saw that the Nightblade was sitting down, he relaxed slightly. A relaxation that was wiped away when he met the silver-black eyes of the woman. Noir was unnatural to those that had never encountered it in person before.

“So, lemme just get straight to the point,” Reysha remarked. “Why shouldn’t I kill ya?”

“You would steal from the people their righteous–“

“Babababa!“ Reysha interrupted. “I’ve gotten the whole summary of the situation. Trust me, I ain’t big on empires myself and I can respect a desperate struggle. Problem is that you are stupid and weak and they have no weaker moral claim than you do. That’s where I stand on this after hearing both sides.”

“You have not heard my side,” the man declared.

“As my man said, you’d just be a better orator for the same points – unless this is where ya reveal that there is a hidden plot beneath you wanting a city independent from the Sleeping Empire?”

“Is there a need for a greater scheme? Is that not good enough?” The leader eyed Reysha, readying himself for combat. Those that afforded the Sleeping Empire the time to be heard would buy into their propaganda, so the man thought.

“It makes the moral calculus suggested seem logical.” Reysha drummed her fingers on her Weaponsmaster’s Vambrace. “I kill you, I save thousands.”

“You take the choice to rebel from thousands.”

“Fair point, but I also take the threat of being overrun by rebels from thousands, so that sort of cancels out.” Reysha gave the rebel leader a side-eye. “Any practical reason I should not kill you?”

The man’s eyes darted around the room. Calling for help? No, if she had been able to sneak this deep in, then any extra bodies would just be minor obstacles. He either needed to convince her or bank on his speed being superior. Her party had culled the Blizzard Drake, but if it was just one of them he reckoned he had a chance. First, there was one more argument to present.

“The Sleeping Empire just wants to pin this on you,” he stated. “The adventurers came through and killed me, a tragedy that they had no influence on. That’s what they’ll sell everyone.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“Huh?” the man asked. “Your reputation…”

“We’re not staying here, you think I care about what the people here think? It’s not going to be on the Guild’s ledgers either. If the Sleeping Empire wants to pin this on us, I don’t care. As long as they pay for the privilege.” Reysha rolled her neck. “But that isn’t happening anyway. You think they’re going to make us be seen with a Yuki-Onna and then deny any connection to us? Honestly, more likely they’ll go for the ‘see what we can do? Just stop thinking about rebelling!’ route.”

“That will never work.”

“Why not?” Reysha asked. “No, genuinely, why not? Tell me and I might just disappear through that door. Why would displaying overwhelming power not work?”

“The answer to that is simply-…!” The man shot out of his seat. His dagger tasted blood – black blood. In a final moment of horror, he saw the demonic ichor spill where his weapon had penetrated Reysha’s raised hand. The next second, a weapon manifested from the Weaponmaster’s Vambrace storage. In one swift motion, she sliced through the leader’s neck. Vital nerves were cut. He crumbled to the ground, a lifetime of scheming against the Sleeping Empire undone in an instant.

Reysha cleaned her weapon on the man’s clothes – then snuck out.

In the end, there had been no right decision.

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