Assassin's Gambit

Florian lurked in the shadows. Beneath the sleeve of his long black shirt, his hand gripped the hilt of his dagger. He kept his breath steady. The street before him was empty, barring the homeless woman in rags feeding the birds beneath the clock tower. He could barely make out her form in the thick fog drifting through the street. The wind blew, sending trash rolling about. Night had come, and the crowds had disappeared to their homes, leaving him where he was concealed between two government buildings. He crouched in anticipation of his target’s arrival.

The minister and the young woman he had targeted appeared from the train station door. He recognised their silhouettes through the fog. The minister's wide berth was unmistakable beneath his bowler hat. The diamond inset cane he carried confirmed his identity.

The wind blew, clearing some of the fog so Florian could see. The woman beside him looked nothing like him. Her name was Arianna. The minister's pride and joy, and his adopted daughter. She was tall and elegant, dressed in a dress of varying shades of bronze. Italian lace lined the hems of her skirts and circled her cuffs. Her dark hair was piled up on her head, tied with intricate white ribbons. A flower-lined hat was pinned to one side, completing the look. She was the most vibrant thing in sight in the dark street. A perfect doll covered in rainbows, only money could afford.

It was thought amongst his brethren that if she were gone, the minister would come to pieces and drop out of the race. And Florian, along with many others in his group, would receive a handsome payout, enough to cover all their expenses.

It was people like the minister who had driven his kind to the slums, to the desperation of doing whatever they could to survive. His mother and father had died during the plague from poor hygiene, leaving him and his siblings to starve on the streets. They lived, piled into small apartments in slums, sleeping on top of each other. All his life, Florian had begged for food in the prominent areas of town, but they all laughed and drove him away with their canes and aristocratic sneers. In the rest of the city, no one could afford to help. He had fallen in with a group of assassins who had trained and fed him. It brought him such pleasure to bring down people like the minister. They deserved it.

Together, the minister and Arianna walked down the steps and crossed the road towards him. The air was filled with the clipped words of a heated discussion. They settled themselves feet away, waiting at the taxi stand just beyond the entrance to the alleyway. Arianna was so close.

Florian crept from the shadows, carefully stepping towards the two, tightening his hold on the hilt of his blade. His cloak rustled when it caught the side of the building. Arianna jumped and turned to glance in his direction. Her mouth curved into a frown, reminding him of someone he lost long ago. No, it had to be a trick of the light. He quickly shrank back into the shadows, slowing his breathing so she would not see him, and watched from the corner of the building.

Arianna hesitated and turned back to face the minister, “…but father, you know the people on the eastern side of town need supplies. Why can’t you talk the other politicians into helping them?”

“I know they are dear to you, sweetheart, but there just isn’t enough to go around,” said the minister. He pulled his handkerchief and blew his nose, stuffing it back into his coat. “It’s not just me, the crops have failed, and everyone is suffering.”

“There must be something we can do,” Arianna begged. “I’ll…I’ll sell all my dresses and jewels.”

“No!" the minister snapped. “We must keep up our appearance for the elections. Besides, sweetheart, they are family heirlooms.”

“The people expect you to take care of them,” Arianna argued, causing feelings of shame to flood through Florian. This young woman stood up for him and the people on the eastern side of town. It occurred to him that this woman could bring about real change. Word had it that the minister would do anything for her. No, there was no time. People were depending on him.

Florian raced from the shadows, knocking the minister aside, and went for his target's throat.

The minister's eyes went wide. "Arianna!" he screamed, catching Florian in the stomach with the tip of his cane.

Florian groaned but was quick to turn and caught the cane with his knife before it could come down over his back. He glared at the minister, drew the second knife from his waist, and held its blade at Arianna's throat. "Neither of you move," he warned.

“Florian?” Arianna asked, and Florian's eyes darted toward her, going wide with shock.

“Florian, it's me, Sara.” Sara? His sister Sara was raped out on the street by a group of gang members and left to die. He had seen her body lying in the street.

“Sara?” he gasped. The minister's fist caught him in the jaw, knocking him sideways. He fell back onto the pavement, and the world spun. His ears rang, and in the blur before him, he could see the distorted movements of the minister. The minister stepped forward, and Florian knocked his feet from beneath him, sending him sprawling across the pavement.

Florian glanced at his sister while holding his knife at the minister's throat. “How?”

“They brought me to the hospital, and the minister was there. His daughter and wife had died,” Arianna said, “He needed someone to care for so he wouldn’t be alone.”

A mix of emotions filled him with confusion. If he were to carry out his mission, his sister would die. She was the last of his flesh and blood, but if he let her live, they would come for him, and those who were relying on him would die without food. He climbed to his feet and backed away, unable to process the choice. “Florian, please…” cried his sister, approaching him, her palms up.

Florian scowled at her and towards the minister, still groaning in pain on the edge of the sidewalk. The old man looked so broken and pathetic. It would be just as easy to take his life instead of hers and would accomplish the same thing. He strode towards the old man and picked him up, dagger in hand.

“No…” cried Sara, taking hold of his elbow.

“One of you must die tonight,” Florian said.

“Please, no…”

Florian glanced back at Sara. Her eyes were filled with tears, and pain filled his heart. Hunched over, she trembled, staring at him with fear. Memories filled his mind of his sister and her cries of hunger. The hollow cheekbones beneath sunken eyes had given him nightmares. She had always deserved more, and thanks to the minister, now she was healthy.

“Make sure that what you discussed with your daughter tonight happens. You have been warned, or others will come for you, and they don’t love my sister, Sara, like I do.” The minister nodded, and Florian threw him back onto the pavement, running for the shadows once more.