The Young Lady is a Reborn Assassin

The Grand Rose was the most exclusive dining establishment in the twin cities. From the outside, it was decorated in a lavish mixture of aged wood, red paint and golden trim. Its architecture dominated the corner of the street where it was located, drawing the eye. Just as many people visited to stand in awe of the building as they did to go inside and spend a month’s wage on an expensive meal.

It was the favourite establishment of many political figures and nobles. There were invite-only evenings that were intended to give them an additional layer of privacy, but even on open days, there were enough free seats to speak openly without fear of being overheard.

In the back corner of the establishment rested a booth that was used only by the most prestigious guests. For the staff who worked there – it was more commonly known as the Welt table, because Gerard Verner Welt always requested it specifically. Today was yet another example, with several paid security guards investigating the building while Welt relaxed and enjoyed the elevated privacy.

Both the staff at the Grand Rose and his personal entourage were surprised when he declared that he was holding an important meeting the next morning. It was very rare for something to catch his eye and spur him into impulsive action, but his right-hand man assumed it had to do with the letter that arrived at the manor an hour before the declaration.

There were so many letters that passed through that his home had its own postal sorting office near the front gate. The only time Welt would personally separate a letter and read it himself was when a family seal was used to mark the envelope. With the stage set, his guards on point, and his guest of honour on the way – Welt indulged in an early drink.

He needn’t have waited long for the guest of honour to arrive.

He stood from the table and waited at the foot of the stairs to greet them, as was common courtesy, with a smile on his face and arms folded neatly in front. Welt was intent on making an extremely positive first impression given what was at stake. Making a new ‘friend’ here could pay dividends in the near future.

The door opened and his dining partner entered with a firm look of determination in their eyes.

“Mister Roderro! How nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”

Adrian put on his best polite smile, which wasn’t very good, and bowed his head.

“Good morning, Sir Welt. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

“I can always find time for an important meeting. To have the honour of your first correspondence is a compliment rarely given.”

Welt showed Adrian to the table, where they both sat across from one another. Adrian noted that he was already drinking. The atmosphere of the restaurant was suffocating. The smell of cigar smoke clung to the silk curtains like a heavy miasma. The only reason he could tolerate it was because they were the only ones inside. There was no dress-code in force so early in the day.

“I have to say, receiving a letter from you was a pleasant surprise. You aren’t known for your involvement in politics or influence-peddling.”

“Influence peddling? You make it sound petty.”

Welt shrugged, “Is that not what we do? Men and women of ambition who wish to shape the world in their preferred image, always building alliances and making their case. There’s nothing I cannot abide quite like an ambitious sort who dresses their intent in the language of altruism.”

“How would you describe your work with the party, then?”

Welt smiled, “I do not advocate for the return of the monarchy solely because it will improve our fortunes, or the fortunes of the working man. This so-called progress, what has it brought us in the decades since the compromise was signed? This grand experiment has meant little to most. The house of Van Walser is not merely a collection of talented leaders, but they are an emblem of pride for millions of people.”

Adrian tried not to let his scepticism about that claim show. He was politically engaged by any means, but his father would frequently air his grievances about the ‘worthless parasites’ who called themselves royals. It was easy to see them as a symbol of pride when you willingly ignored their excesses.

“I heard that the King is not... enthused about the idea.”

Welt nodded, “His first and foremost concern has always been peace. It’s admirable, but we have a difference of opinion on the consequences of any royal restoration. It certainly will not be the disaster that he envisions.”

Adrian did not want to linger on this topic for too long. He merely wanted to give Welt the impression that he was open to cooperating with him in return for something else. A passing investment in the discussion was more than enough for that.

“Maybe I should reserve that kind of philosophical talk for later in the day,” Adrian jested, “My uncle is always telling me to start taking running the family business seriously. I’m here to shake hands. Even if it appears that we cannot see eye-to-eye at the moment.”

Welt visibly winced. It was subtle, but spending so much time around Maria had trained Adrian to notice those small tells with laser-like precision.

“Cedric is an intelligent man. I hope that his advice is well-meaning.”

Adrian was treading carefully with what he said; “I think that the stress of my father’s arrest has a part to play. He’s been in a hurry to do whatever he can lately, almost as if he’s putting himself into his shoes.”

“A personal tragedy can do that.”

“But I am taking it seriously. My uncle was right about one thing, I couldn’t continue to neglect the parts of my responsibility that involved speaking with others. Our company employs thousands and thousands of people, and they depend on me making the right decisions to remain employed.”

“Do you have a new project in mind?”

“Not at the moment. I’m still becoming familiar with running what we have. It’s been a difficult adjustment. Suddenly I’ve had to come to terms with everything my father was doing for decades, making decisions and keeping on top of all of the paperwork.”

Welt took another sip of his drink; “It is in the most trying times that our best qualities are shown for all. My advice is to never forget that there are experienced men and women who keep the gears turning even without your supervision.”

Adrian frowned, “Yes, unfortunately, some of those men and women decided to leave their posts after my father’s conviction.”

The conversation took an odd turn as Welt drilled down into that particular incident.

“Do you feel that your father was unfairly tried?”

Adrian couldn’t hide his disdain for that perspective, “Not at all. I visited him in prison a while ago, and he continued to state that he did all of that for my sake. It only made me angrier with him. He never did listen to me. I did not want him to get someone killed so I could marry their fiancé.”

The glass was placed back down onto the leather coaster and Welt tried to steer the mood back in the right direction.

“It is difficult to understand the perspective of a worried parent until you’ve become one yourself. Lines are drawn between what the child desires and the parent’s concern for their future.”

“My father wants me to be exactly like him.”

“That’s one way that the ‘war’ can go. It’s reassuring for a parent to try and mould their children to be exactly like them. It is a well-worn path, one that offers few surprises and more control.”

“And what do you think of people who assert that this approach is for the sake of ensuring that ‘they’ live on into the future through their children?”

“I think that's foolishness of the highest order. We only have one chance in this life – and we cannot assume control of another’s body and relish in their successes long into the future. If one wishes to leave a legacy to be remembered, then they should do the utmost to achieve it within their own lifetime, and not delegate it to a child who is ultimately out of their control.”

“I agree, but perhaps we should speak of less candid affairs and lighten the mood.”

Adrian’s father and his arrest were such totemic subjects that they almost always came up during conversation. Nobles relished the chance to needle him for details and ask him how he felt about it as if they could not imagine feeling the same type of anger that ran through his veins. It was too abstract and tinged by their love of drama to understand.

Adrian ordered something light for breakfast and a glass of orange juice. He hoped that they would calm his rampaging nerves. Sending the letter tore him in two – and then the act of getting dressed and coming to their arranged meeting location felt like stabbing himself in the chest with a dagger.

He didn’t fear Welt. Welt was not going to lay a finger on him.

It was Maria who he had to be wary of. He’d ignored her and sent the letter on his behalf. He was going under her nose and acting with his own discretion to try and figure out what was happening with Welt and his uncle. He knew it was a game where he had nothing left at stake, but he couldn’t leave it unfinished.

How Maria would react was the biggest problem. She was cold, manipulative, open to using violence to get her way, and rarely seemed to deal with ‘friends’ who didn’t follow her orders to the letter. Was she going to lose her mind and threaten him like she did others? Or was she going to skip that step entirely and put a bullet in his chest?

He was the one who asked Maria to help him and now he was trying to run from the choice he made back then. Adrian thought that he could use Maria as a tool to a certain extent, but he soon learnt that Maria never relinquished control. She moved pieces around the board like a chess master and lined them up perfectly to come out on top.

It only begot more questions about when and where she obtained those skills. Adrian was closer to her than any of the students at the academy. He knew first-hand that Maria was often busy attending shooting competitions and other noble engagements. There was no time to secretly become a trained killer. Shooting a clay disk out of the sky with a long arm didn’t transform them both into experienced gunfighters.

This was just as much about provoking Maria as it was Welt. Adrian couldn’t claim to be upset about the situation when he wasn’t willing to put his neck on the line to take control like Maria did. This was his grand experiment. He was prodding the tiger to see how it reacted.

Welt was easier to predict. He leapt at the chance to speak with the current head of the Roderro family. He didn’t care about Cedric on any personal level, he was nothing more than a convenient conduit by which he could access the family’s resources and cashflow to implement his plans. That was why Cedric was in a blind panic about Welt dispatching violent murderers into Church Walk as some kind of twisted test.

“If you ever have need of advice or guidance, then do not be afraid to reach out. I know some very talented people who can help with what I cannot.”

“That’s a kind offer.”

Welt smiled, “A lot of commoners see us as a collection of backstabbing fools. While that perception may persist because of what leaks to the newspapers – the truth is that there are far more individuals who see the value in supporting one another. A rising tide lifts all ships, as they say.”

“And the only expectation is that I return the favour in kind.”

“That’s right. Even if we were not acting under that belief, I have a lot of friends who would like to coordinate with you and your business. We’re speaking of purely transactional relationships though.”

Transactional relationships were easier to understand according to Maria.

Adrian subjected himself to the trite small talk of a man who saw his future at the top of the pile. Welt had the face of a sour sort and no amount of fake smiles or overbearing glad-handing could erase the creases that marred the corners of his eyes or brow. Adrian heard the rumours about Welt. This wasn’t honest in the least.

It was then and only then that Adrian tried to consider why he was the one meeting with Welt, and not Maria. When she stated that she was going to send her letter to Welt, there was no doubt that she was going to do exactly as she said. Was Welt planning a second meeting later in the day when he was done with him?

Adrian enjoyed his breakfast and powered through the agony of being forced to speak with a man who was only hoping to call him in for a favour later. Those types had dried up after Cathdra’s arrest and Adrian’s self-imposed isolation – so it took a special kind of opportunist to still give it a go.

He was down to his last bite of the food when the sound of a commotion at the front of the building disrupted the meeting.

“You can’t go in there!”

“I’m not trying to go in there! Let me get past!”

The second voice slurred their words. Whoever was causing the issue was clearly inebriated.

“You walked right into me,” the guard asserted.

“You’re the only one making this a problem, arsehole! You don’t own the bloody sidewalk.”

One of the guards outside of the booth stepped away and approached the front door, which was around a left bend that prevented Adrian from seeing what was happening. The voices came into clearer focus once it was opened, along with a rush of cold morning air.

“Is there a problem here?”

“No. Just some drunk bum making a fuss.”

“I’m standing right here you wanker!”

“Then clear off!”

The argument was furthered when yet another group of people approached the Grand Rose and got between the two sides. The voice that commanded their attention made Adrian’s blood run cold.

“Is Gerard Verner Welt here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“The police.”

There was a long silence. Welt tensed up in his chair but made no move to escape.

“I’ll have you know that refusing to give an answer is obstruction of police business, gentlemen.”

That was Veronica alright. The guard who left a moment before to help with the drunkard was forced to follow in a panic as she and a pair of officers pushed their way through and approached the booth at the back corner of the building. Veronica already knew where Welt would be seated. Adrian tried to shrink in his seat to avoid earning her ire.

“Gerard Verner Welt. My name is Veronica Gladwell. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

There was no messing around. Veronica wanted answers and she was going to get them come what may. She even flashed her badge to ensure that Welt understood that the threat was legitimate.

“Ah, of course. I’m always happy to assist the proud men and women of Walser’s police union.”

He motioned for the guard to step back before he turned the questioning into a brawl between him and the two armed officers who flanked her on both sides. The atmosphere of the mostly empty restaurant took a very sudden turn for the worse. Welt was uncomfortable with being cornered by three ‘police’ officers, and the smarm offensive wasn’t working the way it used to.

Veronica sighed, “I don’t think you understand. You’re being apprehended for questioning. Get your things.”

Welt recoiled from the outrage of it, “You’re apprehending me? On what grounds?”

“I submitted a report to the district courthouse and they agree that we have probable cause to confine you for questioning. Any explanation of the evidence used to underline that warrant has to be saved for a private location.”

“I can hardly agree to that based on your word alone.”

“It doesn’t matter if you agree – you don’t have a choice. Out of consideration for your station, I went through official channels to gain approval for this, but I can easily assert a plethora of other legal rights to supersede their authority. We can do this the nice way, or the nasty way. That’s your only choice.”

Welt licked his drying lips and looked to his guards for assistance, but even they weren’t going to attack a police officer who was not posing an active threat to their employer. It would easily come back to haunt them later. He would have to flee the country as a fugitive to evade the follow-up investigation. His last refuge was indignant rage.

He rose from his chair and pointed at her, “I know who you are now. You’re not a police officer. You’re one of those feckless WISA parasites!”

“Does it matter? We’re all officers of the law. If you choose to resist arrest, then I won’t show you any mercy. If you were anyone else they’d demand that I drag you to the station by the scruff of your neck.”

Adrian kept his head down and moved aside so that he wasn’t caught in the crossfire between Veronica and Welt. This had thrown a wrench into his plan. WISA was moving too quickly to keep up with. Veronica was already knocking on the door of the man in charge. Veronica was ignoring him. He was not relevant to her investigation.

“I want to speak with your handler.”

“I’m afraid that speaking with her won’t help. This detention is being made with her approval, nor do you possess a legal right to speak with her at this juncture. I can assure you that none of the usual dirty tricks are going to let you worm out of this.”

Welt couldn’t order his guards to remove them from the building. This was a ‘polite’ society, where such violence would only serve to worsen the odds he faced. He grabbed his coat from the back of his seat and donned it with a furious scowl. This was meant to be a dinner with a new and promising contact, but now he was being forcibly paraded through the streets like some kind of criminal.

Despite his mock indignation, Welt knew exactly what he was being apprehended for. It only defied reason that he was being treated so harshly by the authorities. They normally took a meek and diplomatic approach to avoid outraging the monarchist parties, to the extent that he had been exploiting their indecision for years.

WISA was an unknown element. They couldn’t be reigned in by any of the government ministers like the police. Welt would have been happy to see them if they were still loyal to the crown as they should have been, rather than contorted into a public agency with abusive leg powers.

Welt left the safety of the booth and approached the officers.

“What am I being questioned under?”

“You’re suspected of fifty-seven counts of conspiracy to commit murder, five counts of conspiracy to access a restricted area, and three counts of disturbing the public peace.”

“Absurd.”

“You can save your defences for the interview.”

The two police officers cleared the way for Veronica to escort him out of the restaurant. The guards outside were still trying to deal with the drunk who had collided with one of them. Veronica rounded the corner with Welt in her grip, and it was at that exact moment that the man drew a small revolver from the pocket of his coat and shot the guard square in the chest.

Blood splattered across his body. He turned to face the door and forced his way through. Veronica acted fast and pushed Welt out of the way, sending him stumbling up and over the wooden bar that ran along the side of the floor space.

The officer to her left fired back, forcing him through the door and onto the street where he could take cover. Veronica could hear more voices coming from around the back. A loud shotgun blast could be heard, and the back door was blown from its hinges. A flood of several men poured through with arms bared.

“What the hell is going on?”

Veronica grabbed her hapless backup and dragged him to the nearest table, flipping it over with one hand and turning it into a piece of makeshift cover as bullets started to fly between the guards and would-be assassins pouring into the building.

“Welt is a popular man!”

The neatly styled interior of the Grand Rose was transformed into a deadly weapon in itself, as shards of wood ruptured to pieces from the bullets and flew in every direction. A group of four men emerged from the staff area at the rear and charged towards Welt’s location.

Adrian was already hiding back in the VIP area, keeping his head down like Maria usually ordered him to. He had a front-row seat to the carnage, although he was more focused on calling himself stupid for coming to the meeting without Maria’s knowledge. This was exactly the type of situation that she was anticipating!

The guards were overwhelmed and flanked from both sides. They fell one by one, being showered in a hail of gunfire and left to lie in a pool of their blood. Veronica barely found time to draw her weapon before the odds shifted against them.

Marco Fisichella was the last man through the rear door. Adrian recognized him right away even when he was wearing a cloth mask.

“Gerard Verner Welt – you come out and die like a man, and we’ll make it easy for you!”

‘Why would he ever agree to an offer like that?’ Adrian wondered silently.