The two girls trotted along at a gentle meandering sort of pace, not rushing to get anywhere anytime soon. These days, work for the both of them more or less consumed the majority of their waking hours. So the friends had decided, that on the first day of every new week, Janus would walk Bunty Peachum home from the work-sheds. The routinely catch up was a welcome respite from the monotony of constant day-to-day labour. Plus, it got Janny caught up on any local town rumours she'd otherwise missed. For if there was one thing Bunty Peachum was good at (other than butchering small animals), it was gossiping.

That and complaining.

She was really good at that too.

"But Ok, ok. Think about it really. Most of these them there rich girls right,"

She began to count on her chubby fingers as she spoke, an impressive act considering she was bearing the brunt of four pails on her carrying yoke at the same time.

"They're nobility, they got a handsome dowry, probably already married to someone who has land, but, thing is, despite all of that, they still might die of smallpox. And then there's me right,"

She counted on her other hand now.

"A Butcher, but that's if we're being generous with titles, little to no dowry, and still waiting for Twiss, Habet and Doxy to marry before I can even dream of getting hitched myself, BUT, I'm apparently immune to smallpox cause of last winter when I went and got Cowpox instead."

She drew to a halt as her point came to its apparent conclusion. Janus paused a few steps ahead, failing miserably to hide her smile. Bunty sighed heavily.

"Life's just not worth it really, is it?"

Janny sniggered.

"Peachum, honey, you're asking the wrong person here."

Buxom Bunty made a pout, and shuffled onwards moodily.

"You're lucky you are Janus Sage."

Jan cocked her head with incredulity.

"What? How?"

Attempting to look smart and knowing, Bunty the butcher raised her head, stubby nose held high as she rather significantly declared,

"Sage might not hug you, or kiss you, or do any of that fairy-tale rubbish. But at least he respects you Jan-"

Bunty stopped dead in her tracks, her pails threatening to nearly topple her as she came to a sudden halt. Janus had abruptly bent over in front of the girl so that she could see as clearly and obviously as possible, the now blooming purple bruise at the back of her neck that was quite suspiciously quiver shaped.

There was a silent delay as Bunty thought.

"Well. Sort of anyway... Lets say mostly."

The two girls continued to walk through the Poor-Town, gossiping about Habet's new romantic interest, debating if being a proficient butcher could technically count towards being a good surgeon, trading chopping and slicing tips and generally discussing all the other pleasantries of day to day life.

The Peachum residence wasn't that far from where Bunty worked in the day, which was a bit of a shame really. As it seemed a lot more still needed to be said between the two. They came to a gradual stop as they reached the front door, and Bunty set down her pails with a heavy exhale. Janus helped her remove the carrying yoke. The weight this girl could carry never failed to amaze her, especially in this heat too. In another life, Janny couldn't help but feel Bunty would have made an astounding wrestler, or perhaps a log-tosser or, something. The girls carried the pails in through the threshold.

"Staying for tea Jan?"

The Sage huffed and shook her head,

"Can't I'm afrain Bun. Old Man wants to find work tonight, one way or the other."

"Alright then,"

Bunty stood upright, her back practically groaning with the effort of the action. She gave Janny a tired, but genuine smile.

"Don't die will you Jan?"

She only grinned as she disappeared back through the door, and calling over her shoulder simply said,

"I'll do my best Bun."



If Sage wanted a easy, more steady job. He'd do either one of two things. He would take the two of them down to any of the low-town pubs or ale-houses, from which they could find a number of simple jobs, be it taking out a too inquisitive guard, or roughing up someone who perhaps just needed the occasional rough-ing. Or, he would just take them bounty hunting. Neither of them really preferred the latter. But if times were desperate, there was not much else to be done. Work from the Low-Town was constant perhaps, but would never pay enough to keep a roof over their heads on it's own. Therefore, a more richer clientele needed to be sought out. So almost every other alternate night, the two Sage's would make their way up, towards the High-Town and the lucky wealthier occupants of Ruilira. Of course, they never just marched straight on in there, heavens no. I mean sometimes they were desperate sure, but they were never suicidal.

Their meeting spot was a quiet old cemetery. Just enough on the outskirts of Low-Town that the posh toffs weren't overly offended or frightened by the smell. But still near enough to High-Town that the Debs could make a run for it if they felt too threatened by the mere meagerness of the dwellings.

Sat on the graveyard wall, the pair were playing dominoes to pass the time. Towering cypress trees loomed overhead in the pale cemetery. The moonlight did nothing to illuminate their branches, the swirling boughs seemingly consuming the light into darkness. They looked quite pretty really, Jan thought. She'd been sat staring at the trees musingly, waiting for Sage to make his turn. But Sage, Janus noticed, seemed distracted. The man was still relatively young in the grand scheme of things, but the lines that currently rested upon his brown made him appear far older than his mere thirty odd years. She glanced over to look at him, though her head remained pointing towards the scattered trees. She studied him for a while before sighing, and turning to peek over her shoulder.

"How much longer do you think that man's gonna wait then?"

Sage just shrugged.

Gods. He was worse than a moody teenager sometimes.

In the end they were able to play a another two turns before the prudish looking man shuffled over to them. Sage turned first, and stood to face him, while Jan remained sitting, studying her next move carefully. The stranger took very small cautious steps, approaching Sage as if he were some stray dog that he wasn't sure he wanted to pet or not.

"Are you The Sage?"

His voice was thin, reserved and predictably doubting.

"I am. But there's no article in the front like that."

Her Father sounded bored. She would have usually chided him for speaking to customers in such a way, but a general atmosphere of apathy and weariness seemed to cloud the both of them that night, so she let the flaw pass.

The stranger swallowed and shook his head meekly. He looked rather like a shrivelled worm the more she thought about it. Very pink and wrinkly with no clear apparent bone structure to be seen. She feared if there was a sudden gust of wind, he'd be taken up by it, never to be seen again. He was rubbing his hands together with worry, obviously not quite sure what to do with them. Not quite sure what to do with himself in general really. Must have been his first time paying to have someone killed. Jan could usually spot a virgin like this when she saw one.

As if she'd said it out loud, the worm man startled all of a sudden, as apparently he'd only just realised she was even there. He continued to look at her in surprise, and then back to Sage, who remained ever indecipherable. His bottom lip quivering, it took the man an attempt or two to get his words out coherently.

"I was hoping that I could... Discuss a rather, 'internal' matter with you ser,"

He took another look at Janus.

"Privately."

Well he sure knew how to make a gal feel special. With a sigh, she gathered their dominoes and hopped down from her spot upon the wall. Giving Sage a nod, Janny made her way out of the cemetery and waited by the peasants entrance. Surprisingly, Sage followed mere minutes after her. Usually it took a decent while for a client to fully discuss and explain just what they wanted doing, and possibly specifically how. But Sage couldn't have spent more than five minutes with the Worm before he came jogging down the hill after her. It must have been a nice and clean one or something.

To her sustained bewilderment, Sage kept on running. Right past her in fact. She took after him, pushing her legs hard just to match his lithe gangling pace. Through calculated pauses in her puffing, she called out to him,

"Sage! Sage!! What was the job?!"

He didn't stop running. But he did reply to her.

"A kill. For tonight,"

Well, that would explain the rush. She'd already been able to figure out he was heading back to their home, but why? What did he think they would need from there that they didn't already have on them currently.

He was annoyingly far less out of breath than she was. So he very kindly used this time to explain the inns and outs of the job to her.

"There's a party for the wedding tonight, and that's where he wants it done. But he wants it specifically on the down low. As quiet as possible."

"So disguises or ... something then?"

"Maybe. He doesn't mind how we do it, as long as we just do it. So I'm thinking Henbane will do,"

"Henbane.. Henbane... and Pokeweed,"

"His name is Viggo Trull, and apparently he's been consorting with old wrinkle-worms favourite escort or something, I don't know."

"His... favourite?! Are you... implying.. he has more... more than one, lady friend?!"

Sage mercifully slowed to a eventual halt as they reached their home. The duo rented a small attic space to act as their home. It was rather bare, and had a singular circular window as their only light source, but Janny actually rather liked it that way. To her, the vacancy of the room made all their own few possessions seem all the more special and purposeful. The headcount tally scratched into the wooden workbench, the sets of boots that sat by the door, the knives hung upon the wall (hers bigger than his), and all their other lethal little niceties just looked all the more loved and looked after in contrast to the relative austerity of the room.

Sage got to work immediately of course. Gathering various snippets and cuttings that all looked somewhat nasty in nature, to be added to a deadly concoction of sorts. Still out of breath, Janus leaned heavily against the door-frame. Her words came a little less laboured now,

"Well, this is Ruilira. As long as I'm in something semi-revealing they'll let me in."

She couldn't be certain as he was stood more or less with his back to her, but Jan thought she saw the trace of a frown cross his face. For some reason, she suddenly found herself thinking of Peachum.

"I Suppose."

He didn't sound sure.

"But where does that leave me,"

The was a pause. A lull that felt more awkward than Janus expected it to. She shuffled where she stood.

"Well..."

Then, a grin,

"We could always put you in a dinky skirt too Sage, see how far that gets us."

This time, she managed to dodge the incoming projectile.

Unfortunately that pesky unpleasant quiet descended upon them once more, clouding the empty attic in a unpleasant hush. Janus set to work arranging and preparing what weapons she thought would be needed, and could also be snuck into the venue without too much difficulty. Sage remained at the workbench, the brew simmering away beneath his busy hands and a scheme cooking in his head too.

Janus knew that they both planned things practically the exact same way. When it came to their work, genetic instincts were a shared trait it seemed. They both tackled problems and plans in the same way, so she feared the same thought was dawning upon him, as it was now her. It was rare a day that a job cropped up that demanded only one of them fulfil it. Despite their differences, the two were a good team, and worked at their best as one. Now that's not to say that they couldn't function at all when separated, gracious no.

But whenever they sporadically did in fact have to part for a commission, neither of them ever felt too easy about it. And Janus could sense that particular brand of dread brewing between them both now. This job was simple, yes, but important nonetheless. She could easily claim it to be the highest profile mark they'd ever been given, and the pay would be more than decent. With money like that, they could actually furnish this place a little, eat something other than bread and stew for once.

So the fact that it seemed she would be tackling this one alone ultimately made her quite nervous.



Apparently, her head is not in the right space for work tonight. And she can't seem to compel it into focus. For the last quarter hour, she's just been walking around the party, and just, staring. Gaping, gawking, leering and peering, and simply trying to absorb every single little magnificent thing she could. At the Villa, there are simply a multitude of minuscule tiny touches that make this so much more than just, 'a party'. And she knows, she knows it's things the Debs don't even notice anymore, if they ever did at all even. I mean, why would they.

This wasn't technically a royal event, nor was it a royal palace. At least she assumed so, for she hadn't seen a crown yet or, well. Whatever a crown was called when it was an emperor and not a King or Queen or what have you. But even if it wasn't officially royal, this place may have well as been. Janus was still trying to figure out how, but they'd actually managed to somehow build this thing, over, the ocean. It was a wonderfully disconcerting feeling truth be told, to suddenly look up and find yourself levitating a few feet out to sea. Least that's how it felt anyway. The marble glowed unnaturally bright in the silver moonlight, but Janus wasn't frightened by it. She actually thought it looked quite pretty in it's own paranormal little way.

The party was taking place outside, and it was obvious as to why. The gardens were manicured to utter perfection. The hedges were straighter than her blade, and the small rectangular pools so clear she'd almost fallen into them, twice. Janus found herself gazing into one now, trying to see to the bottom of the water through the ripples of her reflection. Of a sudden, she started. She turned quickly to find it, and she just about managed to catch it. A shadow upon the roof. Gone so quickly she wasn't sure she'd seen it at all.

She wondered if it was Sage. It could be, but the risk would be high. But the mere inkling of his presence was all it took to arose her to action.

Janus believed that most people's idea of a Assassin was a tortuously difficult profession. And admittedly, some aspects of her job were not the nicest in the world. However, some things, were nowhere near as tricky as people often thought them to be. For example; finding her mark was pleasantly simple. Spotting a group of serfs that all looked roughly Ruiliran, Jan wandered on up and just asked them if they'd seen him. A small spotty girl answered her question.

"Pike? Oh he's with Pamina round the back. I think she's crying again."

And there you go. Bob's your Uncle and Fanny's your Aunt. Janny thanked the girls (for she was no bad-mannered pigtail) and set about on her way. Twas strange, she thought, a name like Pike didn't sound particularly exotic or Lordly. Truth be told it sounded rather... common. Most likely from her own natural embellishments, and perhaps from Sage's brief description, she'd pictured her mark to be a regal fanciable philanderer type sort. So when she rounded the corner and spotted a man that's meeker than a mouse, it surprised her a bit.

He was as lowly as she was, possibly more so. Pale, despite the natural Ruiliran sunshine. And honestly, he looked like he could do the job for her soon enough and drop down dead anyway. The man was crouched by one of the rear walls of the estate near the kitchens, cooing and shushing a girl around the same age as him. Jan couldn't really make out her features through the fat dribbling tears and scarlet puffed up cheeks. She was possibly pretty underneath all of that, but she just couldn't be sure. However , through the clothes the girl wore, and the way she kept her posture pretty, Jan knew this was Worms favourite. And if that's the case, then that man was most certainly her mark.

The first job Jan ever officially helped her Father with was something purposefuly simple, and made to be as regret-less as possible. She was Nine years, two months and six days old. And she killed her first man with a knife across the throat. He was a Highwayman from Kem, and Sage held him down while she tried to put the blade in. Once it was done, and the two were walking back to the city, Sage had said something to her. He'd said it to her then, and he'd said it ever since whenever he thought she was doubting at all.

"It will atone."

On it's own like that it sounds very ethereal and airy, and honestly she's ninety-nine percent sure he took it from an old play or song or something. Yet on some days, the words soothe her. Their vague blanket of speculative positivity wrapping her tightly enough that she doesn't need to hear them directly, in her head or otherwise. Yet on other days, she still doesn't know what it means. However she does know, that this particular set of words always float to her when her nerve quivers. Whenever she can't quite restrain the worry.

She's thinking of them now.

But one of them has to eat.
One of them has to keep on living.
It cannot be both.

The posion she was going to use was slow-ish. It took an hour to kill the mark, but when they did die, it was sudden. Almost instant. She thinks painlessly, but she can't be sure. Because of the relatively decent time it takes for the brew to work its way through the marks system, it usefully negates and erases anything traceable that could be found afterwards. Overall, a very useful concoction. But it does mean that she'd have to hang around afterwards for the hour, just to make sure it did actually work. Annoying, perhaps. But she's been stuck in worse places for longer.

Janny waits around a while for the girl to leave. She does after a time, leaving a trail of snot and tear smears behind her. She trails Pike to the service station that's been allocated for the Serfs in the kitchens. They have water available there, as a servant that's unconscious from dehydration can't very well serve anybody drinks. She guesses he's waiting around for some particular food or other questionable substance to take to the Debs, so she decides to seize this opportunity.

Luckily for Jan, she doesn't need to make herself look additionally tired or rattled at least. She already appears the part. She grabs two tatty looking wooden cups and diddles over to him. The motion of adding the mixture is far too natural and invisible. It's so seamless of course nobody notices, Jan barely even does herself. Casually, she simply offers him a swig, and they chat.

It turns out, he actually buys his harvest chicken from Bunty. What a coincidence. Jan makes a comment about those 'poor chickens' and they both laugh, though his seems weary. A call goes out in the kitchen. A confused looking lady is asking for help in Kemitic. Nobody currently there seems to understand her, as by chance there's more Ruilirans in there at that particular moment. But Jan hears her. She's lucky to catch a witness like this, It's not forced or a lie or anything. Completely accidentally real for once. What a nice change. She says her goodbyes to the soon to be deceased Pike, and goes to lend her hand.

The Kemitic lady simply needs her to gather drinks for a gentleman who looks fit to overflow already. As she goes to gather the swaying gentleman's positive plethora of beverages, she started to feel her mind again begin to drift away. This one isn't sitting right with her for some reason, and she doesn't know why which is increasingly frustrating. Janus has killed before, and she more than likely will again, that's just a fact.

But still. She supposes.

She doesn't have to enjoy it.

Does she?

Ugh.

When she returns to the specific bush that man had decided to collapse in, he was no longer there. Perhaps one of the bush maiden thingies had gotten annoyed and scurried him away in a wheel barrow or something. Whatever's happened to him, she certainly can't be bothered to find him again. So with a groan and a sigh, Janus heaves the drinks over to a very large table right by the back of the gardens and dumps the glasses into a satisfyingly untidy pile.

She only realises she's daydreaming about the ocean again when the sound of her own name snaps her back to reality with a harsh twang. She visibly startles and bumps back against the table behind her.

"SHIT. Ow. Ughh... Oh. Hi Ceres."

Well this is a nice surprise.

Ceres, an ironically tall fair-haired fellow Baddun, sits crouched looking at her from begind the table. She looks like a baby that's up to mischief, like she's got some horrible undisclosed prank set up for someone somewhere nearby. Actally, that wouldn't surprise Jan if it were true honestly. Ceres cocks her head at her in a greeting.

"Alright Jan."

Janus does the same.

"Alright Ceres. What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know. Just checking it out. Having some fun. Poisoning the Princess. You know. Usual stuff."

"Oh ok. Coo- WAIT WHAT?."

Ceres grins. Toothy and wide. The cocky twat.

"You heard me Jan."

"But why?"

"Kicks honestly."

Jan folded her arms in disbelief. Mouth held slightly agape in confusion.

"Ceres. Honey. There has to be more to it than that."

The other girl shrugs and averts her gaze to the wine-stained table cloth. The grin noticably gone, she traces patterns with her finger as she speaks,

"I'm poor Jan. So are you, and so are all the others and we always will be. Nothing to be changed. We'll always be dirt and despite how hard we might work or try, we'll never improve that. They never have, or will give a shit. This lot that is, the Debs. So think what an absolute kick in the fucking teeth it will be if I kill their precious adored Princess Pooper without anyone even paying me to do so."

Jan didn't reply to her. She couldn't. It had rendered her somewhat speechless. Gods. She hadn't even known the Princess was here. Ceres didn't give her much of an opportunity to reply anyway. She uses the same type of poison Jan had used mere minutes ago. And then Ceres nods, gives her a small smile, and vanishes over the side of the outer railing.

And there she goes, thought Jan.

There goes a Princess Killer.

Janus Sage sat alone at the table. She sat in relative silence. The distant fuzz of the waves and the milieu of the party providing a ever-present hum in her mind. Then slowly, one might even say majestically, Janus Sage rose to her feet. A look of never-before-seen yet utterly faultless determination plastered firmly across her face. With a deep breath, the girl opened her mouth, and said,

"Fuck this shit."

The anitdote to the poison is as simple as adding a single leaf of Nightsbane. It's purposefully that simple in case the Baddun at work accidentally makes a mistake of some kind. Carefully, she adds the leaf, and watches intently until the very last speck of it fizzles away into the liquid and absolute dissolvement. Jan can't help the small smile that puckers itself upon the edge of her lips. It actually feels ok to be decent. It's not as bad as Sage makes it at all.

With renewed vigour, she turns with a newfound spring in her step, and makes to head back towards the kitchen, and back towards poor old Pike. For if the Princess gets to see another day, she doesn't see why Pikey shouldn't either.

And that's when she os wrenched backwards. The force of it knocks the absolute wind out of her and she's left gasping and heaving for breath. Through mere reflex, she instantly begins to kick, and squirm, and struggle, and thresh, and flail herself as much as she possibly can. Just to get free, get free, get free. Then she can run. Run faster the the guards. Run, run and run away. Out of this villa. Out of the high-town and away into the night.

But she cannot get free. She's stuck within the grasp of what feels like a giant. A enormass fist practically cemented around her arm, clenching so tightly she bears the bone may break. And he's screaming too. Screaming and yelling for guards.

And Janus starts to cry.

Not foolishly. She's no baby.

But she starts to cry like the child she suddenly realises she still is.