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"Tacitus!" a voice cried out, "Tacitus, come on!" The young fox's ears perked up, and he smiled at the vixen running toward him. She was around the same age as him, dressed in a light blue dress, her hair in a long ponytail. She was smiling brightly, waving him over and calling out over and over again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." he said dismissively and began walking over. Tacitus and Jenna had been friends since they were babies-- or at least old enough to understand the concept of friendship. She was a real tomboy, and the two liked to spar with wooden swords and look for bugs out in the fields. Typical activities for kids growing up in the farmlands of Duskden. "Come on, I saw some fireflies over the lake! Hurry, before it gets too dark!" Tacitus ran after her as she took off toward the lake, the black-furred fox nearly tripping over a fallen branch, "Hey, the sun doesn't go down that fast!" "You lazy pup! I want to see the light show!" Summer had only just begun, and already the fireflies had awoken, performing beautiful, multicolored dances in the air in hopes of attracting mates and carrying on to a new generation of aerial light shows. The Bren and Swift farmsteads had been cooperating for mutual gain for as long as Duskden had existed as a town, and perhaps even before that. They produced the most crops out of any farm in Duskden, sharing in their trades and profits for generations. As a result, Tacitus and Jenna enjoyed a comfortable life with loving families, in a town full of wonderful people. Truly, they were blessed to be born in such a place, in a world torn apart by war, greed and corruption. "Whoa, look at them!" Jenna cheered, pointing up at the dazzling display the fireflies created as they buzzed through the air. Shining lights of red, blue, green and yellow mixed and mingled together more beautifully than any manmade device could hope to replicate. Tacitus was quieter, much more subdued than his friend. He didn't love the display any less, but he'd never been the excitable type. Even on the day he was born, he'd been surprisingly quiet. "Hey, why don't we name him Tacitus?" his father had purportedly joked. A name derived from an old word for "silent". His mother, so the family story went, quite liked the sound of the name, and thus Tacitus Bren was added to the family tree. The name wound up fitting the boy quite nicely, indeed. "Jenna." the fox started, swishing a stick through the shallow waters of the lake, "Are you really happy here?" "Huh? Of course I am. We have everything we could possibly want, right?" "Well yeah... Well, I mean... not exactly." "What do you mean?" the vixen's ponytail leaned to one side as she tilted her head. "I've been thinking." Tacitus looked up at the fireflies again, leaning back and dropping his stick into the water, "When I get older, I want to join the military." "What?" Jenna jumped at him, pushing him to the ground and batting him on the head, "Don't say things like that!" "Ow! Hey, I'm serious!" Jenna's eyes widened, and the hint of a quivering motion appeared on her lips, "But why..?" Her friend sighed and sat up again, "It's just... This place is a little too perfect, know what I mean? And those guys in the military... They're so strong. I want to be strong like that, Jen. I guess it's just a guy thing." By now Jenna's cheeks were puffed up, clearly not liking this one bit. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, turning to face the lake again, "I like boy things too, Taci, and I never thought of joining no military." Tacitus laughed, "But girls don't fight." "The hell they don't!" another smack to the fox's head. "Would you stop that? Geez. And don't swear, it isn't ladylike." "I'll show you ladylike..." Jenna grumbled and huffed again. Once he was certain he wasn't going to be attacked again, Tacitus uncovered his head and continued, "The world outside this town is just... It's dangerous, Jenna." The vixen slowly turned back to him, listening. "Sooner or later, that danger might come close to Duskden... right?" "I guess... but there's no way of knowing, right?" "No, and that's... that's kind of why I want to do it. There is no way of knowing." he turned back to her, smiling softly, "I want Duskden to stay safe like this. Forever. No bandits or mercenaries... No wars. Just the same, boring stuff that's happened for years and years." Jenna turned away again, and was quiet for a long time. Finally she nodded, giving him the most serious, no-nonsense look she could muster, "Fine. But you have to promise me something, Taci. You can't lie about it, either!" "That all depends on what it is." "I'm gonna tell you, so shut it!" the girl's cheeks turned red under her bright orange fur, and she mumbled, "Promise me you'll do everything you said you would. Promise me you'll protect this place." For once, Tacitus was at a loss. Why had she suddenly accepted his idea? "What's with you?" he laughed again, poking her cheek, "You're turning red. Are you angry?" Jenna growled lowly and socked him right in the nose, knocking him flat on his back, "Damn you, Taci, just promise me!" It took the dazed fox a moment to gather himself again, rubbing his nose and grumbling irately, "Fine, I promise." "Promise what?" "I promise I'll protect you!" Jenna's cheeks burned brightly now, "N-Not me, you dolt... The town." "What, can't I do both?" The blushing vixen turned away, and Tacitus could swear he heard her giggle. He grinned, pleased with himself, crossing his arms proudly and looking up at the fireflies again, "I swear on my honor, Jenna, that I will protect you and Duskden from all that would do any harm." "Then why didn't you save me, Taci?" A chill ran down his back. A familiar chill... Dread filled his heart as he slowly turned to face his friend. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME!" Jenna's face, contorted in pain and horror, scorched by flames, screamed this over and over to him until--

Tacitus awoke with a gasp, eyes wide with terror. His armored padding was covered in sweat, and his heart was beating faster than it ever could while waking. The fox slumped against the bales of hay behind him, covering his face with a gloved hand and shaking his head. "You ok back there?" the voice made him jump, but he quickly remembered. He was on the back of a cart, moving along a cobblestone road. The old feline driver, still quite pretty in her middle ages, wore a look of concern as she glanced back at him, "You were whimpering in your sleep. Must have been some nightmare." "Y-Yeah... I'm fine." "Just checkin'. We're almost there, so make sure you've got all yer belongings." He was on another mission. The Silent Hand had been commissioned to remove a greedy Duke from his seat, after a bad harvest had resulted in a low food supply for the winter. In an act that seemed typical of all nobility, Duke Francis Keet decided to forget the good of his people and lock himself in his castle with the entire city's food supply. Needless to say, this pissed some people off, and the reaction was unanimous: Kill the Duke. Painfully. That was where Tacitus would come in. His dagger would, hopefully, not be needed this time, as the commissioner for this particular kill had provided something far more fitting than a blade in the back. Tacitus reached into his pocked and removed the vial, turning it over in his hand and watching a small bubble of air race for the top each time. A complex mixture of herbs and just a little bit of magic had brought about what the brewer affectionately referred to as a "potion of gluttony". He wasn't exactly sure what it was going to do to the greedy noble, but the commissioner had assured them that it would certainly kill the man. Tacitus needed no further information. He tucked the sickly green mixture into his pocket and took hold of the side of the cart, leaning out to get a better look at the area. He could see the city of Mardux off in the distance, surrounded by walls and sitting amidst a fresh winter snow. He pulled the hood back from his head and opened his cloak, letting the cold breeze into his clothing, chilling him to the bone but also helping to dry the sweat that now drenched his armor. "That damn dream." he murmured to himself, "Will I ever get any peace?" It had been occurring at random for a long time now. Since he'd quit the military, he wagered, and joined up with the Silent Hand. His guilty conscience at work, he'd originally thought. Guilty for deserting, guilty for running away from home... guilty for... He smacked his cheeks a couple times. Focus, he reminded himself. He needed to focus. Getting distracted on the job could easily mean a swift death for an assassin. Tacitus closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, sitting back against the hay bales once again and awaiting his stop. It didn't take long for the cart to reach the crossroad leading to Mardux, and once at the gate, the driver tugged on the reins of her horses, stopping them right before the city wall, "We're here, foxy fox. I'm not goin' inside. Too many beggars." "Thank you, ma'am." Tacitus walked alongside of the cart and handed her the fee they'd agreed upon for the ride, "May your path be as clear as the deep blue sky." "Safe journeys to you, too, traveler." the old driver turned her cart around and started back along the road. Tacitus was alone again, just like he preferred. Tugging his cloak around his body and concealing his face with the hood, he made his way through the streets of Mardux, keen eyes darting back and forth. He had heard of the pathetic state of things since the Duke's men had seized all of the food, and now he was seeing it up close and personal. People begged and crawled after him, holding up coins and asking for any tiny morsel. All he had were his travel provisions, and that could only feed one person for one night. If he started flashing food, he would quickly be mobbed and draw attention to himself. He had to be discreet, so he bit his tongue and tried to drown out the whimpering, sobbing masses, continuing along toward the castle. "There are two ways you can reach the royal chamber." one member of the Hand had said, "There's the front door, for the more adventurous sort, and there's the windows above the castle battlements. We recommend the windows, as there have been reports of construction work on the battlements. The scaffolding could provide the way inside." Tacitus wasn't feeling very adventurous today, so the window was the way to go. The scaffolding reached down the wall and up to the battlement, giving easy access to construction workers... and in this case, an assassin. The workers wouldn't be keen on simply letting him in, so he would have to play this carefully. Looking over the scaffold, Tacitus weighed his options. Climbing straight up, dressed as he was, would do him no good. There would be guards and workers up there who would see him, and his mission would get a whole lot harder. He could steal a worker's uniform, but that still posed the risk of someone seeing him climb into the window. "Not a lot I can do during the day." he figured, shaking his head, "Guess I'll wait until nightfall." The fox found an inn to stay at. The owner seemed thankful that someone wanted to buy a room, despite the fact that there wasn't any food available. All the city's inns had been suffering from their Duke's greed. Tacitus gave his sympathies, but otherwise did not mention anything further of his knowledge of the subject. Even those disloyal to their lord must not know of the plot to kill him. It could lead to all kinds of complications. Tacitus sat in his room, going over the details of his mission over a flagon of mead-- something the innkeeper had managed to keep hidden from the Duke's men as they seized his supplies. "Through the window, open the secret door and find a way to poison the Duke. Sounds simple in words, but there will be guards inside. Going to have to avoid them if possible, kill them if necessary. Could do the decent thing and throw open the front doors for all those hungry people outside, but they'll all get in somehow after they realize he's dead." He checked outside. Night was beginning to fall on the city, and the construction workers would be going home for the day. Only the guards would remain, and in the blackness of night, Tacitus could wander around without being seen. If anyone got too close, however, he would run out of places to hide really fast on the battlements, so he would have to make it to the window quickly. The fox checked his vial of poison once again. He began to imagine just what this concoction might do to the Duke once he consumed it. Perhaps it would shrivel him up like a raisin and have every bit of nutrition bleed out his pores? No, too unrealistic. Maybe it would make him so fat that he would explode? Maybe, but he wasn't sure he wanted to watch something so gory. Whatever the case, the time to strike was now. Tacitus made his way out of the inn and toward the wall. He passed by several workers, hearing them talk about the current food problem. Apparently they had been spared from the famine because of their work on the castle walls, and were given food on the job. Typical noble, Tacitus thought. Bribing people with whatever he could to keep order where it counts. The wall was dark now, only a few torches at the top giving any sort of light. Tacitus climbed up the first level of scaffolding onto the battlements and crouched low, watching the guards patrol to his left and right. The window was to the left, and a narrow piece of scaffold was his only bridge between it and the wall. It would have to do. He moved quickly, keeping low and watching carefully for the guards. The sound of creaking wood on his left brought him to a quick stop, and he spotted a ladder. It was moving just slightly. A guard was coming up right next to him! "Time to make a move, Taci, so which one will it be?" he thought, mind racing to decide. Should he stay put? What if the guard walked in his direction? He'd stumble right over the fox and catch him. Maybe he should kill the guard. No, the Hand was very strict about killing bystanders, even if they threatened the mission. No daggers would be wasted on this guard. Then he got an idea. The ladder itself could be used... "Better than nothing." he thought, taking hold of the ladder and giving it a firm push. The guard climbing it shouted, and the sound of armor hitting the ground with a loud thud reached the assassin's ears. "Ow! Goddammit, I think I broke my hip!" the guard was still alive, much to the fox's relief. A moment of muffled questions passed, and then, "Someone better check that ladder next time!" There was laughter and someone called for a doctor, but no one came to investigate. Tacitus was free to continue. He reached the window. The scaffold was indeed quite narrow, and there wasn't any room for error now. Tacitus checked left, then right. No guards in the vicinity. He backed up, stopping by the opposite edge of the wall, calculated his jump... and took off in a sprint. He jumped once, landing on the scaffold with one foot, then pushing off in a fluid motion, propelling himself to the window, grabbing the sill tightly and pulling himself in. Tacitus ducked, eyes darting back and forth. He hid around a corner as a guard passed down the hallway, just barely avoiding detection. There was a long, tense moment as the guard rounded the other corner, giving the assassin his privacy once again. He looked up and down the hallway, recalling the next part of his instructions. "Find the secret door. Right." He walked silently along the hall, finding the first part of the lock mechanism, "Pull the torch..." He did so. The metal casing for the torch clicked as he pulled it, indicating the movement of a mechanical device behind the wall. Tacitus moved back the way he came, following a line of paintings until he came to the one he would need to manipulate: a family portrait displaying the soon-to-be-dead Duke and his parents. "Turn the painting..." he murmured, turning it to a ninety degree angle, waiting for the click, and then turning it back. One more device to go. This one was far simpler than the others. He found where the wall split into a very fine seam that would be near-impossible to see unless one knew what they were looking for. He pressed his hand against the brick next to the seam, pushing it in until he heard the third and final click, "Push the block... and we have a secret door." On cue, the wall moved inward a pace, then slid to the side, surprisingly quiet despite its age and design. Tacitus quickly slipped inside and hit the reset switch, closing the door behind him and following the path to the Duke's bed chamber. Francis Keet, a large-bellied human man who could only grow fatter as he gorged himself on his ill-gotten food, was not yet in his chamber. Fortuitous, Tacitus thought as he slipped out of the passage through a sliding panel and looked around the room for any way he could slip the poison to the noble without being noticed. There was the sound of laughter and footsteps, quickly approaching the bedroom. Tacitus' search became frantic. He found a tall glass of wine on a table and decided it would have to work. He emptied the contents of the vial into the glass and disappeared behind the wooden panel that concealed the hidden entrance. Duke Francis burst into the room, two women at his side, obviously hand-picked to be his personal concubines and paid for with food. He was already very drunk, and seemed intent on getting more so. He shouted an order to an unseen servant, and a large cart full of food was wheeled into the room. "I just... I wanted to thank you two for showing me to such a good time tonight." the Duke said, slurring his words a little and picking up his glass. The glass Tacitus had poisoned. "Now don't be shy-- go ahead and eat and drink and be merry! Just don't eat too much that you won't be ready for some 'fun' afterward!" He burst into laughter again and downed his wine, probably barely even tasting it. Tacitus leaned forward in anticipation. What would happen now? For five minutes Francis told bad jokes and made horrible passes at his two guests, who looked quite uncomfortable, but happy to at least have something to eat. They could have been normal townsfolk, or maybe even dancers at the local brothel. Tacitus couldn't tell at a glance, but they were very attractive human females. There was a point where Tacitus thought that the potion wasn't going to have any effect, and that he would have to end this evening with blood on his dagger. He was about to make preparations to barge into the room and end the man's life himself, but then something happened. The Duke paused, his eyes going wide and then suddenly squeezing closed. He groaned in pain, then tried to curl up on himself. His guests asked him what was wrong, but he didn't answer them. He looked down at his gut, his expression twisted into one of horror. Whatever he was seeing, Tacitus simply couldn't, and neither could the two women. So this was the potion's effect? Then why was it called... Tacitus would soon find out. The Duke pushed the two women aside, attacking the food cart with his big hands and shoveling handful after handful of food into his mouth. He was ravenous, like a shark given a fresh, bloody haunch off a cow, eating more and more and not stopping to pause for even a moment. The two women stared, wide-eyed at their lord, unsure of how to respond to this strange behavior. They tried to tell him to pace himself, but their cautions went unheard. The Duke seemed to be trying to speak as he ate, but all that came out were mumbles and groans, his mouth near-constantly full of food. The cart, once piled with food, was getting emptier and emptier. Francis nearly choked several times, and Tacitus huffed with irritation each time he managed to swallow and keep eating. Soon, however, his movements began to slow. He seemed to be getting weaker, his stomach bulging slightly more than usual. Then, with a sickening gurgle, he fell onto his back, his eyes showing no awareness of the world around him, food still stuffed in his mouth. Now Tacitus understood the name of the potion. The greedy noble had just been made to eat himself to death. His stomach must have burst. There was no saving him now. The two women screamed and ran out of the room, calling for the guards. Tacitus had seen enough. With a grin, he made off for the escape tunnel that would lead him out of the castle. He could faintly hear the screams and shouts of panicking servants and guards, plus the two women who had witnessed the ordeal. This would certainly be a story told for a long time in Mardux. Tacitus disappeared from the city now run by an exploded Duke. The case of the gluttonous Duke would never be solved, and the world of Sekhem would keep on spinning.