In the midst of psyching myself up, I saw a troop of men approach from several sides. Front and the back door. Some mingling outside in the quad.
Great, this was all I needed. I briefly wondered if those were the soldiers under the lordling's command. Builds certainly looked the part – but, no. The House of Raktkalis had a universally recognisable aesthetic, and they never strayed from it.
These common thugs, on the other hand, were trying to blend in. Casual tracksuits, colourful t-shirts. They have been dancing around me for days, and I just ignored them as part of the scenery. After all, everyone and their little sister brought in some muscle. My subconscious has simply been steering me clear of danger. Still, I should have noticed before they got the kill order.
I reflected on that, and many other regrettable things, perched in the plump, thorny bushes beneath the windows. While waiting, something promising crossed my line of sight. One of the pale servants scurried off to carry out some other awfully early errand.
I followed her. It was same busybody from before. I judged so from her particularly small stature, not the girl's overflowing conscience.
First and foremost, I needed a confirmation. I was not going anywhere near households of ruling families without a firm and compelling reason.
Finally noticing me, she looked around and determinedly declared, "I can't talk to you."
"D-does he have my lapt-t-top?" I asked eagerly, my anxiety on full display. She wasn't the only one in danger.
Even though the servant's face contorted with sympathy, there was no reply. Not a verbal one. She looked away as her arms went up in a self-embrace. Understandable trepidation. Who would want to snitch on their provider? Such a noble one, at that. If it was me, I absolutely would have looked out for my own hide, without even thinking about resorting to a half-hearted kindness – once.
Regardless, it was enough of confirmation. I smacked this mercurial woman on the jaw – she flew off like a dust bunny. A hiss escaped me, sharp with panic! My blow wasn't that strong. This frail girl was about the only person I even had the chance of knocking out.
I dragged the light body into a nearby classroom and put her baggy gown on. It fit. I had worried, because my build was fuller. However, that wasn't the only discrepancy. My skin wasn't pale. Also, I had hair. Heavily industrialised Kalanta had certain particularities, and one could not escape the appropriate look.
Patiently, but through a litany of curses, I soaped up my hair at the sink and began shaving. At least the tool was sharp. I used the blackboard's chalk to draw all over my exposed skin. Could not have done shoddier job if I tried, but my inventory was behind the backs of murderous thugs, and these were the materials I had on hand.
Gliding out as modestly as the gown's previous owner, I reached a certain dorm. I've never been around here before – mostly due to a healthy dose of self-preservation. Which also meant I knew exactly who to avoid, and where.
Roughly.
Two suites occupied an entire penthouse. Enough room between them for platoons to dance freestyle and never touch. Luckily, their presence wasn't as abundant. Four bald, blackly-armoured soldiers stood away from the path, and blessed me with the opposite of close scrutiny.
I walked towards the tell-tale cultural differences.
The big brutes looked like they tried to be invisible. Perhaps it annoyed their master to have all this eager manpower underfoot. How insanely exploitable. Young Raktkalis must have thought himself invincible. Certainly impervious to a direct frontal assault.
Well, it was unthinkable. I was here only because I had no other choice. However, that's exactly how assassins are presented their tasks, too.
Crossing the forbidden threshold, I stepped inside. The décor was predictably dark. Wide tinted windows, carpets only a shade less black than the glistening marble floor. Only the servants stood out in their discordant whiteness, floating around noiselessly like disembodied souls. By the looks of things, the breakfast feast was about ready to be eaten. Not the place I wanted to be at.
I made my way up to the dais and glided towards the side rooms, as quietly as the rest of the ghostly ensemble. Not a single head was lifted to look my way. Servants meticulously stuck to their tasks. Alarmingly convenient.
This could end really badly. I'd be mistaken for a contract killer. They'll torture me to find out details I do not possess.
My legs tried to give out on me, but this was not the time nor the place.
What on earth was I doing here? This was supposed to be simple, risk-free affair. I kept my head down, and never even crossed paths with these people – precisely due to the danger they presented. Associated rewards on anything related to ruling elite were not even worth it!
Soundlessly cracked the first door open. Empty.
The following room presented with a soft growling and scratching. Dogs. Bypassed it without checking. My fingers shook, contemplating the options in the likely case my property was in there.
Not having much choice, stuck my nose into the following chamber. Weapons cache. Obviously, the precious contenders to the throne were permitted firearms for self-defence.
Following door – the wardrobe. For lineage who's never even dreamed of wearing anything besides black, this was a lot of shelves. I could bet Raktkalises lost at least one flamboyant cousin to whoever policed this household's dress code. I imagined the tasteful fellow just getting shot right there at the dinner table.
Up next – exhales of near-wakefulness. The bedroom of lord princeling himself. Also not something I should encroach upon at any cost. Bless this beauty slumber.
Damn. If only I had access to my resources. One rolling vial of sleeping gas – and my peace of mind would be in hand. Should have distributed the essentials in more locations. A staggering oversight, influenced by a deceptively peaceful environment. It will end up costing me not only success, but also the survival.
No. No visualisation of worst case scenarios. Learn from this.
The final room. An office in the corner. How normal. Except, the inhabitant who something against natural light probably didn't care about the view.
Nevertheless, I was in luck. A drawer unit, cabinets! I almost hadn't expected this eccentric décor to encompass an actual desk.
I hurried to shut the door behind me. The room was so tidy, it bordered on an unused. What if the compartments were empty? However, an odd stack of books or papers would be revealed once in a while. Even then, drawers contained no knickknacks, just orderly stacks of irrelevant schoolwork.
Had there been some documents, I could have walked out of here content. Pity. However, state affairs being hidden away I could understand. The absent sundries? Baffled me. Where were the personal trifles? Even having servants didn't excuse this severe a lack of personality. Not even a single quirky pen. The assignments didn't have doodles in the margin.
"Dickhead," I filled in a slur out of spite.
Missing likability aside, the most important quandary was blaring in my mind like a siren. Where was my laptop? I've checked every surface and recess. Everything besides the safe, which I had no way of opening. Insipid young master did not jot down his passwords for all the visitors to see.
Worse.
I heard him stir behind a wall. Lord Veivirzis of House Raktkalis has woken up. The footsteps were heavy and determined. He obviously had no need to sneak around his own place, unlike the servants whom I suspected to be there too, but had no definite proof of.
I hid, but the echo of bare feet drifted off into the great lounge. At the window, I pondered a choice between leaving, and pushing my luck some more.
My laptop could be in the bedroom. Unlikely, but not impossible. I would certainly have tried to crack the password and calculate my haul deep into the night. However, this jerk had other people for tedious tasks. Chances are, the device was a floor below in grubby hands of a duty-bound musclehead. Too late to go looking in that haystack now.
I stashed away the desire to be virtually anywhere else, and, timing my expedition with the receding stomps, stepped out and snuck those unspeakably dangerous several steps into the master bedroom.
I've been wrong to assume servants attended their lordling from the moment of his waking. The evidence of life had not yet been erased. Bed remained unmade. Shirt lay on the floor. A drawer was left ajar. A phone, carelessly ditched by the bedside.
The sight actually let me breathe out in relief. So this wasn't some robot that just lay ramrod straight the whole night.
I rummaged through the drawers in an otherwise empty room. Barely started, really, when a remarkably rich voice asked, "Where's the report?"
Not a timbre I'd attribute to a teenager. Perhaps I've been mistaken, as the institute was open to all ages. A realisation which made this endeavour that much more dangerous. He could be a proper officer – with all appropriate experience and personal resources.
"Not yet here, Master," one of the servant girls spoke.
"But you're all present," Raktkalis sounded terribly displeased, and I did not envy the poor souls in his line of sight. There was something debasing about his tone.
Wait. All? He counted me in. How did he know? Were there cameras? Was I being too loud? Did he catch a sight of me sneaking? So many possibilities ran through my mind, and all of them were utterly irrelevant. It was useful to have good hearing in situations like these. Extra time to panic!
"Come here," a louder tone commanded, specifically aimed at someone in another room. Needless to say, I wasn't about to comply.
A servant of the household would already be prostrated before the master, because not a second later the lord got up and went looking for such blatant disrespect.
Heavy footfalls were getting closer without any hurry in them. He knew exactly where I was, and that I had been cornered. Lordling still assumed this was but a meek attendant, rather than a trespassing hitman. Little miracles.
Grabbed the only thing of value in sight – the forgotten phone – and tiptoed to the window. This was the fifth floor. Even a seasoned assassin would have a hard time climbing down – and I was no seasoned assassin. With a little more time and less of a pounding pulse, I could make my way down. I had neither luxury. This scanty gown didn't even have pockets.
Footsteps weren't already here only because of an enormous living space.
I bit down on the gadget, hung myself off the sill on the outside and gently closed the window. Heard him stride in and ponder in confusion. Menacing presence then thundered out to check the other rooms.
Uncertainty will buy me only so much time. I still needed to get off here, and my fingers were starting to tire. I hadn't neglected training per se, but this easy-going campus life was disagreeing with me anyway.
Free-fall wasn't a viable option. Not if I wanted to keep my delusions about walking away from this. I would still need to sacrifice something for a favourable outcome, and that would have to be my hands. I let go, immediately grabbing for the sill a floor below. Elbow hit concrete and shattered – or at least tried its best to give that impression. Fingers desperately clung onto the rough surface. Didn't manage to hold on. Body weight pulled me down.
I reached out again, only to slam both wrists down this time. Forearms got ripped up and grazed. My debilitated body didn't feel pain, otherwise, I suspect, the sensations would have been blinding. Some problems had their upsides. This one I really liked, especially at times like now.
The controlled fall was nonetheless terrifying. My teeth clenched tight around the precious bargaining chip, helping to keep me quiet. I also had that other incentive – if I don't do this exactly right, the misery will be much, much worse. I tried to cling with the profusely bleeding arms again. And again. Right until plopping down on the pavement.
I simply breathed without seeing anything in particular. Attempted to move, and everything but the arms worked as it should have.
I was alive. I could probably walk. I couldn't believe this worked.
However, this was far from over. Blinking vigorously and willing the stupor away, I got up and inspected my palms. Blood pooled in the recesses. I flung it into the distance to lead the pursuit away, and darted back into the building through a window I knew to be unlocked. This place had a terrible problem with vandals.
The shower curtain of a gown was predictably awful at staunching the blood flow. I was twisting the hem up and around my raw arms, but that simply smeared the fabric. It was easily the worst article I've ever worn. I was convinced this body bag of a dress was determined to let me bleed out. What a convenient design. Raktkalis might get me yet – in a most unexpected way. At least this upturned hem contained all the dripping.
Sprinted towards a communal shower. Needed to be rid of this reddening chalk. Perhaps I'd nick a towel, or even someone's change of clothes. There still wasn't a soul around, but soon this place would be swarming. And crowds were the best way to disappear.