The Young Lady is a Reborn Assassin

Keeping the plates spinning was tricky, but with the foundation in place to force Darin’s group into two sides I could execute another part of my plan in the intervening time. It was time to rid myself of the candelabra I’d bought at the antique store. It was amusing to think that most of the customers had no idea that it possessed beneficial magical abilities.

However, the catalytic candelabra ended up there in the shop – it was perfect for me. Perhaps some bored noble had commissioned it on a lark after finding the colour interesting. Some blacksmith would have taken the raw metal and transformed it into a usable piece of furniture for their dining room.

Now I had to melt it back down again and shape it into a more useful pair of armbands. The arms were where most of the body’s magic was concentrated when casting spells. It was technically possible to do the same using any of your limbs, but shooting bolts of energy from your toes was both impractical and more difficult than using your more precise fingertips.

Originally I planned to take it to a genuine blacksmith and get that done on my dime, but that was out of the window now. Welt was going to trigger his plan whether I was ready for it or not, and I didn’t have the time to go walking around the city looking for one of the few local smiths who were still operating. I’d have better luck further out in the countryside where they were on hand to repair tools and the like.

I was going to have to figure out my own solution. Luckily for me, there was a groundskeeper’s hut tucked away in the gardens. The combined workshop-storage space contained a hearth and chimney that would be more than enough to

Kursiela had a low melting point, far lower than I anticipated when I started drawing up plans to use it. That was one of the unique challenges it posed when utilized in a machine such as Snow’s etherscope – if it was allowed to heat up too much, it would bend and deform and cause all kinds of malfunctions. In essence, I wouldn’t need a blacksmith’s kiln to mould it.

I stuck the candle holder under my coat and snuck away from the main building later in the afternoon. There was no reason for anyone to be out and about at this time of day, so I had an easy and clear walk down to the hut, where the rusted metal lock on the barn door proved no impediment to my entry.

Inside was a small furnace used for incinerating the organic matter from the gardens that wasn’t being composted. There was also a hammer buried beneath a pile of other tools on the workbench in the centre. I took that, some dry wood from the pile in the corner, some blunt clippers and a steel bucket.

This was not ideal. Without any of the tools and methods that a blacksmith would use, I was forced to compromise and come up with my own process. I had the foresight to buy some cheap arm bangles to compare my work against during my trip to the city, but I was going to have to coat them in kursiela. The underlying metal would be the structural support. What mattered was having it in contact with my skin.

All of the staffs and wands, and whatever else foreign mages used missed this important point. It wasn’t about having a lot of it or shaping it in a particular way so as to direct your energy. Gripping a staff would mean that only your fingers and palms received the benefit.

Turning them into a pair of gauntlets, or a set of rings, was more efficient and less intrusive. I could keep fighting in the way I preferred. I started by throwing dry wood into the furnace and setting it alight with a matchbook that was kept on the surface next to it.

This was going to be difficult. I made sure that it was at the right temperature, pumping air into the flames to keep it going, along with more kindling. I returned to the table and grabbed the candelabra using the tongs. Mindful of the risk of losing some of my precious metal – I carefully held it close to the flames and allowed it to heat through.

After a few minutes, I could see it beginning to deform. I pulled it free and moved back to the table, using the hammer to smash it down into shape. The soft kursiela was easy to manipulate as I pleased. The first step was to turn it into a flat plate that I could bend into shape.

There would be smoke and noise pouring from the shed in equal amounts, so I worked quickly and efficiently. Back into the fire it went for a few more minutes. I pulled it out again and continued. It didn’t need to be flawless, nor could I make it flawless using nothing but a hammer.

I dipped the result into a bucket of water to cool it off. The final plate was covered in bumps and dents, and some areas were thicker than others because of the original features, but it was thin enough that I could bend it to match the shape of my forearms. I made sure that it was cool enough before allowing it to touch my skin.

I grabbed a saw and messily cut the plate into two pieces, one for each arm. I polished them off by using a piece of sandpaper from the toolbox I found. It was not a comfortable edge by any means. I would have to fashion a leather lining later to keep it from accidentally cutting into my flesh.

But considering the pressing circumstances of their creation – the armbands were exactly what I wanted. They fit snugly around both wrists and could be bent with enough force, making fine adjustments easier for me. There were some areas where it pulled away from my body, but it did have a very low resistance to magic passing through like a copper wire transferring electricity. That would cover the gaps that I missed.

Anything was better than nothing.

I pulled my sleeves down and concealed the makeshift gauntlets. I could even smack someone over the head with them if I wanted to. There was a leftover piece of the plate, but I couldn’t think of what to use it for. It was likely going to be discarded as surplus to requirements. I was already flying too close to the sun by using the furnace for this.

As if to respond to my train of thought, I could hear a voice calling out from outside.

“Oi! Is someone in there?”

Why the hell was one of Darin’s goons sniffing around the place? There were very few places to hide in the work shed, so I hid what I could, slammed the furnace doors shut to snuff out the fire, took the hammer, and tucked myself away in the back corner behind a piece of old sheet metal. The door I broke in through swung open and flooded the room with light.

The guard stepped through and investigated the workshop. It was obvious that someone had been skulking around and using the tools inside. He must have been attracted to my position by the smoke – even though I tried to pick a time when none of them were walking past this spot in the garden. For whatever reason this particular fellow was on high alert, and that plume of smoke was enough for him to come and investigate.

I was split between sticking to my guns and running through the door. He was still marauding around with a rifle in his hands, and killing him was not the optimal solution when I knew that one of them was having a mental breakdown over an accidental death on the campus grounds.

“Is someone here?” he asked. He approached the furnace, feeling the heat emanating from the chamber. He started to second-guess his own decision to visit the shed. Perhaps it was just one of the teachers running errands and tending to the garden. An inspection of what was inside soon convinced him that there was nothing to concern Darin with.

“Must have scared them off...” he muttered. He left the way he entered.

I emerged from my hiding place and kept a close eye on his back while he returned to his patrol route. Once I was certain that he couldn’t see or hear me, I gathered my things and hurried back towards the main building. The path of least resistance was often the best choice.

I had my magically conductive catalysts ready to go. Now all I had to do was test them at the range and make sure that they didn’t melt or burn my flesh when I cast a spell. A spell cast by hand was magnitudes less energy intensive than the etherscope at the museum, but I was using a particular type of spell that lived and died by throwing a brutish amount of that energy to a specific spot.

I could not engineer a cooling system and affix it to my body. If they did not work as intended, then I would have to abandon my plan and think of another strategy to enhance my magic. The range was open and ready, though I was going to focus on nihility first and foremost. I shuffled behind one of the trees and focused on the dirt in front of me.

Endurance test number one. I could cast my nihility spell four to five times on a good day - if I restricted the range and scope. It was good for dismantling delicate parts of firearms or severing arteries. It was also subtle. There was no real way to detect it without having already expanded your senses and entered a trance. In that manner, it was the ideal assassination tool.

On the flip side, it was not as effective in direct combat. It could not do anything that would not be better served by a firearm. A pistol could hold more ‘rounds,’ fire at a longer range, and did not sap your energy and cause heightened fatigue or other ill effects from mana deprivation.

I focused my senses and entered my spellcasting state. I was going to carve up the dirt behind the range. This was how I practised casting the annihilation spell consistently early on during the year, and now it served as a good control group for what I was doing with the gauntlets. I passed some energy through into my fingers, and it was immediately evident that a dense concentration of mana-thick air was leaking from seemingly nowhere. It surrounded my hands like a cloud of miasma.

Having the energy run through them was warming them up to something slightly warmer than skin temperature. It wasn’t enough to compromise their integrity, and thus I stepped forth and conducted my test. With a snap of my fingers, a large, orb-shaped chunk of dirt disappeared into thin air.

I did it six more times before feeling fatigue starting to set in. I kept going. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven. That was my upper limit. I leaned back against the tree and marvelled at the increase in efficiency. They were frankly terrible pieces of work - but it had doubled the number of spells I could cast. Lower-intensity magic would be even more effective should there come a reason for me to use it.

All I could do now was wait and see when the pressure cooker exploded...

---

One may have assumed that Welt’s coming revolution would kick off with a bang. However, as a man of high society, Welt was more concerned with the optics of the operation than most would expect. Everything had been planned to the finest details, including which armed groups would deploy where, and which politicians, police officers, and other civil society workers would allow them to take control.

On a sunny morning they marched through the streets, storming the police stations and government institutes. The parliament building was taken, as were the ministries that surrounded it. The newspapers were next – with plans for them to publish articles meant to sow confusion and disarray between any potential resistance.

Softened by decades of peace, the citizens merely stood back and watched in bewilderment as the armed strangers walked through the open doors and occupied the buildings without a fight. Out of sight and ready to pounce were the magically enhanced soldiers that Welt had gone to great expense and risk developing.

It was all proceeding smoothly. The last piece of the puzzle arrived at the Interior Ministry with a pair of ceremonial guards on his flanks. King Thersyn Van Walser, the namesake of many, and the wizened leader of the greatest nation on the planet. The guards remained by his carriage. He walked inside alone.

Beneath the golden heraldry and heavy cape rested a face that before the weight of decades of leadership and experience. A man who was proud and humbled, with a long grey beard and wrinkles spreading across his speckled face. He remained a towering figure even in his older years.

Welt did his best to appear unstricken with his presence, but a shameless monarchist could not help but revere the father of Walser. Welt was hoping that above all else he would not need to replace Thersyn with a toady. Rentree was right to worry about swapping him for another, lower-rung noble from the royal family.

This was the final junction on the track he was building. Thersyn would either cave to the pressure and restore himself to his full, rightful powers, or he would step aside and be replaced as the King.

“Your Highness – I hope that you’re doing well.”

The King was not amused; “Spare me your damnable pleasantries. You have already made unreasonable demands of me. To come here in the midst of this mess, without anyone to keep watch.”

“Yet you arrived here all the same.”

“I have a responsibility to do what is right for Walser.”

“Then you should already know what the best path is. I’ve assumed control of parliament, the government ministries, and every other arm of the government that does not involve you.”

The King shrugged, unperturbed, “Plain and simple treason.”

Welt nodded, “Some would see it that way. This can be a bloodless endeavour if you choose it to be, Your Highness.”

“Bloodless?” Van Walser scoffed, “Do you understand what you’re doing here? My priority, as it always has been, is to protect the people of this nation through my leadership. At a time when violence became our primary language – I made a choice to disempower the crown, yet men such as yourself refuse to respect that.”

“The men in parliament are not bold, or brave, or just enough to lead Walser! The decay is happening right before our eyes!”

“You can peddle your flattering myths of the past to your friends and conspirators, but not to me. A man who cannot understand the scale of the destruction wrought by the civil war is peerless in his ignorance. We live in an age of enlightenment – even the poorest men and women enjoy homes and lifestyles that would seem impossible just a few short decades ago. Walser is the envy of the world!”

The King was as proud as any man could be. He believed earnestly in what Walser could be and what it was. An industrial, military and cultural powerhouse that was peerless on the continent. A nation that strode into the future, building model cities and towns with all of the new conveniences created by its genius inventors and industrialists.

Teething problems were to be expected. There was disquiet and conflict, and often the men making the big decisions did not plan properly for the imminent. Yet it was progress all the same. King Van Walser was not ashamed of his nation, nor was he one to downplay how powerful it had become.

Welt scowled, “Why are you so happy to abandon what it means to be the King?”

“What is it to be the King of a destroyed nation? You aim your spite at me, yet if the worst did come to pass and the Compromise was never signed, you would be cursing my name for dooming Walser to split apart.”

“You sound like one of those pig-ignorant Republicans. It’s ill-fitting for a man of your status.”

“Judge me however you please, Sir Welt. No answer can satisfy your craven ambition, nor have I ever attempted to wade into the dispute. They will hang you from the nearest lamppost should you give them the chance – that is to say, good fortune will have to be on your side.”

Welt clenched his fist, “Is that your rejection, then? Do you refuse to be a part of this new history, to restore Walser to what it rightfully should be? They stole it from you! From us! The tyranny of the minority is already here. Because you relented, they learned that they could steer this ship however they please!”

Thersyn was unmoved.

“Look around you. What happened here spurred similar revolutions across the world. When a great tide comes, there are those who choose to move with it and those who choose to stand and be crushed by it. If you wish to speak of legacy, then mine shall be thus; I was there when the future shape of the great nations was put into motion. When the books are written – that will be presented above my station as King.”

Welt was furious. He’d never felt a rage like the one that burnt inside of his chest. This was the type of cowardice that he could not abide. What had happened to the great and ambitious man who once commanded the entire nation with a flick of his hand and a knowing look?

As a final insult, he removed the crown from his head and held it out to him in his palms. The bejewelled headpiece had been used by the royal family for centuries. It was a beautifully crafted and painstakingly detailed piece, which spoke to the history of the arts and Walser’s dominant position as a maker of all things metal. The symbolic meaning was obvious. He was giving it to Welt.

“If what you desire is to be the man in the chair – then there is no need for us to discuss this any further. Appoint whomever you wish, but you shall not come back to me, crying for aid, when the inevitable failure of your ambitions comes to pass.”

This was no abdication. It was a challenge, a dare. He was going to sit back and see where Welt’s decisions took him. He had no role to play in the coming conflict. In all matters of state, he remained little more than a figurehead. Thersyn was confident that it would all end in tears, that Walser would not bend to the whims of a man like Welt.

Welt snatched it from his hands and held it close to his chest.

“I’m disappointed. I had hoped that you would see the reasoning behind my actions and choose to join us.”

“Do not pretend to respect me whilst attempting to minimize my choices. I hope for your sake that we do not descend back into those hellish days once more.”

Thersyn turned and stomped away, preventing Welt from having the final word. He looked down at the crown clutched between his spindly fingers and traced the intricate details. He had admired the crown from afar for most of his adult life, yet he did not feel any joy in holding it at that moment.

A disconcerting voice in the back of his mind started to rear its ugly head. What if this was the way he felt when he succeeded in his plan? Getting what he wanted yet being no closer to the fulfilment he sought? Welt stamped it down. There was no room for doubt. The plan was in motion. A new King would be crowned right away, and the changes he desired would be instituted.

This was not destruction – it was renewal.