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Everything had fallen into place.
Aric made it to town thanks to the help of a farmer carting his goods to the square. He had wrapped the crossbow in a spare blanket from the bedroom, keeping it under his arm. His hair was tied back, hidden well under the hood of the cloak he wore. He found Town Hall, found the door and his quiver, and hadn’t been noticed by anyone as he slipped into position, staying in a passageway overlooking the balcony and the courtyard below. He watched as Joss and Henrik stood on the gallows, realizing he had just made it in time. He surveyed the area, seeing the two guards below and the older man perched at the railing around the corner.
Just do your job, he thought, both to himself and Joss, hoping fate would be kind as he unwrapped his crossbow and had it waiting. If it went well, the Mask and his puppets would be gone, and Aric could go on with his life, knowing the two below would be safe. He resonated with himself on the ride into town that he would visit more often than originally planned, that maybe he could do jobs that were closer. Instead of always being on the move, he could have a home base, some place to always return when work was slow or he needed somewhere to hide out. Galmoor wasn’t anything like Aselian, but that woman down there who had washed his clothes and taken him in was something he couldn’t find himself letting go of easily.
He had it all figured out until he heard the scream.
It was moving down the hallway to the side of him, the words “wait” and “he’s pardoned” escaping in between heavy breaths.
Aric moved quickly down the corridor that connected to another hallway. He felt the pangs in his wounds, little reminders he wasn’t completely himself, but he ignored them as he waited in the shadows, hearing the running feet clearly now. Dropping the crossbow and quiver quietly on the ground next to him, he slipped out the long knife from his boots, which he had taken from the kitchen and borrowed as a backup.
Hearing the footsteps grow closer, he let his instincts guide him, listening to the sounds, making the timing right.
He couldn’t deny the kill had been perfect.
“The pardon came—” the page was yelling just as Aric rounded the corner, catching the young man and sinking the blade straight into his neck, severing his vocal cords. It didn’t stop the sounds of blood gurgling as Aric dragged the body into the corridor, laying him down and letting him bleed out until he was done twitching.
Lifting himself up, he could feel his shoulder and leg protest the stitching, but something in him felt alive again. He was winded, but he could still act, relieved as he retrieved his crossbow and slung the quiver back onto his shoulder.
Moving back to where the balcony was, Aric only knew he was grinning when he felt it falter.
Joss had heard it.
“Master Brevyn,” came the authoritative voice of the man at the railing. “Proceed.”
Aric stared hard as Joss hesitated, even looking at Henrik. Just do it, Jocelyn, he begged her, his eyes straining to watch. He saw her glance at the prisoner, and in that moment, he knew.
“Master Brevyn!” the man bellowed.
Aric closed his eyes, trying to swallow the part of him that wanted to yell at her too; to kill the prisoner so they’d both be free. But then something in him clicked, knowing he had to stop her from intervening. That was his job; that was the whole reason he was even there.
Opening his eyes, he worked in silence to load the crossbow with one of the arrows. As it locked into place, he started to hate that he had stayed there so long. As he took aim, he tried to ignore his trembling hand, something that had never been a problem before. When he found himself going over the details of her face, he batted it away with a couple blinks, clearing his mind of any excuses that would have made him put the crossbow down.
“Proceeding, my lord,” her voice rang out, but he heard the undertone, knew her well enough to tell that she was going through the motions, but something was lurking in her intentions. He stared past the point of the arrow as she positioned herself to act as executioner.
And as he watched her pull the lever and then grabbed her ax, he took a sharp breath and pulled the trigger.
