Turns out being the bad guy isn’t all that hard—at least not in the beginning. The first few days were spent on menial tasks: conjuring rations for troops heading off to whatever campaign the war demanded, opening portals for spies or anyone deemed important, and, of course, the ever-thrilling guard duty. It wasn’t glamorous, but I didn’t mind. It gave me time to observe and learn about the place.

  The new ruler’s reputation preceded him. He ruled with an iron fist, enforcing harsh rules. The result? A thick cloud of paranoia settled over the palace, but it’s like no one understood human nature—when people aren’t allowed to talk, they whisper. Rumors moved through the halls faster than any of the soldiers stationed there.

  Admittedly, sorting truth from fiction was tricky. I was too new to know what held weight and what was pure embellishment. Still, certain things came up again and again. He was powerful—so powerful people whispered he might not be a man at all but something godlike.

  He was ruthless, the kind of ruler who punished failure without a second thought. And he was mad. And not the: let me conquer the continent crazy more like talking to people who aren’t there crazy.

  Maybe they were there. In a world full of magic, who’s to say he wasn’t chatting with invisible creatures or spirits? But the tone of the rumors suggested he was missing a few screws, as we’d say back home.

  Meteora, the capital, was nothing short of breathtaking, its grandeur untouched by months of new leadership. A river divided the city, with the smaller northern section housing the imperial castle, a fortress encircled by towering rock formations on three sides and the river on the fourth.

  The southern part sprawled across gently rolling hills, transitioning into open plains nearby. Smaller rock formations dotted the landscape, with the most striking feature being the ravine carved by the river between two hills, exposing ancient stone.

  While I settled into my dull duties, Isla and the others were busy. They’d set up camp in the capital. At first, they only watched from a distance, but with each passing day, Isla grew bolder. The first time I ended up on guard duty at the palace, she started pushing deeper inside, sneaking closer to learn whatever she could.

  Her findings didn’t surprise me. The ruler was indeed paranoid, not that I could blame him, since we were here to kill him after all. But paranoia isn’t easy to overcome. The palace itself was a fortress within the city, surrounded by thick walls and sprawling grounds. An entire regiment was stationed there—over five hundred soldiers, most of them fresh recruits but no less dangerous for it. Numbers alone made any plan we considered a nightmare to pull off.

  Fortunately, Lucien—the noble who had recruited me—approached me by the end of the week, sparing me from the impatience that had begun to creep in. The meeting was, as expected, vague on details, offering only a time and location: a park in the southern part of the city, the more affluent district.

  The southern district stood as a testament to Meteora’s once-prosperous history. Luxurious villas with sprawling gardens framed the park on all sides, their elegant facades hinting at the wealth and power of their occupants. Not far off, a small fort loomed, its sturdy walls contrasting with the otherwise refined surroundings, a subtle reminder of the city’s strategic significance.

  The park itself was a marvel, more than just a patch of greenery thrown together on unusable land. It stretched wide, with carefully maintained flowerbeds, cobblestone paths winding beneath ancient trees, and fountains that shimmered in the afternoon light. It wasn’t a hurried addition but a deliberate choice by rulers who had once sought to make the city as inviting as it was functional.

  People were already gathered in the park’s center, and among them, I spotted the face I’d been expecting.

  “So, you mentioned something about a new assignment?” I asked as I approached. The others turned, sizing me up with a mix of curiosity and indifference.

  Lucien’s expression shifted, a smirk curling on his lips as he calmly replied, “His Highness has decreed that a noble line will be culled tonight.”

  “Harsh,” I remarked with feigned nonchalance. A few of the others chuckled, clearly more at ease with the grim task than I’d anticipated.

  “That’s why we need outsiders—people without ties, who won’t let undue loyalties get in the way,” Lucien explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

  One of the others piped up, “So, are we the main force?” He glanced around, clearly skeptical, as were the rest of us. We were no more than a dozen, a far cry from the force needed to eliminate a noble house, especially given our lack of preparation and solid intel.

  Lucien shook his head. “The king will handle this personally, along with his elite guard. Our task is to cover the fort’s many secret exits.”

  Well, props for him doing his own dirty work. Maybe the rumors were exaggerated, and he wasn’t three fries short of a happy meal.

  “So, the Ashfords are going down tonight?” someone asked from the group.

  Lucien nodded. “Yes, they’re the target. Now, since we’re all here, let’s split into four teams.” He scanned the crowd, his gaze calculating. “I’ll take three with me.”

  I crossed my arms, a playful smirk on my face. “Which of the four locations pays the most?” I didn’t really care about the money but I had my doubts on the verity of the information Lucien presented. You don’t go ‘cull’ a noble house unless they did stuff like high treason. Which made me think of a possible resistance. Which put me in a tough spot. I needed options.

  The question drew laughs from the others, though I noticed more than a few seemed to be wondering the same thing.

  Lucien hesitated before answering, “The sewers pay extra, but it’s a long shot. We only need three for that.”

  Without missing a beat, I raised my hand. Sure the smell would be terrible, but my mana shield would protect me from the grime and other unpleasantries. Despite the earlier laughter, no one else volunteered.

  “I can take care of anyone that comes through there alone,” I said with the bravado he was used to, “but I need a second man with me in case no one comes our way. I don’t want to be suspected of anything since it involves the big guy,” The last thing I needed was getting on the king’s radar so quickly.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Lucien nodded, then turned to a scarred, wiry man. “Mad Dog, you’re with him.”

  Mad Dog’s scowl deepened, though it was hard to imagine his face showing anything else. The scars and cuts covering his face might not mean much elsewhere, but in a world with healing magic present it spoke volumes about him. And with a nickname like that, I doubted his character was more pleasant.

  The remaining groups formed quickly, each assigned to guard houses known to harbor tunnels.

  “Stay at your posts until the guards arrive from the other side,” Lucien instructed. “Do your job well, and tonight we celebrate—women, finest wines and enchanted powders.”

  The group erupted in cheers, and I joined, two out of three wasn’t so bad.

  “Remember, the Ashfords die tonight. No prisoners, no exceptions.” Everyone nodded in unison and separated into their groups.

  Mad Dog seemed to know the way to our post, so I followed him in silence. He didn’t seem the chatty type, but as we descended into the sewer, he finally spoke.

  “Why’d you volunteer for sewer duty? The extra gold sure ain’t worth it.” His voice took on a gruff, sorrowful tone. “I’ll have to pay double for the women, even if I scrub myself raw for an hour.”

  It almost made me feel sorry for him.

  "Speak for yourself," I quipped. "I’ve got a magical shield around me, so I’ll be sure to entertain all the ladies who dodge you." With a smirk, I conjured a light source above us and headed inside.

  Mad Dog muttered something about mages and life not being fair. A few minutes in, I started to agree. The stench made me retch several times, and the ankle-deep muck only rose as we moved further. Mad Dog, to his credit, didn’t gag or hesitate, trudging through like a man possessed. Mad Dog indeed.

  "This should be far enough," he finally said, halting abruptly. "They might expect us at the exit, but not here."

  With a wave, I extinguished the light, plunging us into darkness.

  Minutes of silence passed before I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed a distraction from the smell. "So, how much are we getting paid? Lucien just said it was a big payday."

  Mad Dog sighed but answered. "At least 3,000 dinari. More if some of us don’t make it."

  "Should I be worried?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

  "Never hurts to watch your back," he replied with absolutely no concern in his voice. Well, at least he was confident. Guess mages did have a poor reputation for front liners. And with the narrow passageways, it made keeping distance impossible.

  Time dragged on, each moment stretching endlessly. The stench, already horrific, seemed to grow even more unbearable, and the suffocating darkness only amplified its intensity. I’d once heard that prolonged darkness sharpens your other senses, and now, for better or worse, I was a firm believer. Then, a faint tremor broke the monotony. It was subtle at first, but soon the vibrations grew stronger, rattling through the tunnels. A final, violent shake was followed by eerie silence.

  "Something big is happening up there," I muttered, more to myself than to him. The fort must have been a fair distance away, yet we felt the aftermath all the way here.

  Moments later, faint echoes of footsteps reached us. Someone was foolish or desperate enough to escape through the sewer. Perhaps it wasn’t just my sense of smell that had heightened; I could clearly hear Mad Dog shifting, his movements deliberate as he tried to position himself behind me.

  If that’s how he wanted to play this, then he was in for a rude awakening.

  I waited calmly, listening as the approaching footsteps echoed louder. Soon, a flicker of light pierced through the darkness, growing brighter with every second. Judging by the cadence of their steps, there were at least five of them, if not more. They weren’t bothering to check corners or move cautiously—whatever was chasing them was clearly more terrifying than what lay ahead.

  As they rounded the corner and the light enveloped us, I activated my time-slowing spell. In the frozen moment, I moved swiftly behind Mad Dog and cast a quicksand spell at his feet.

  The spell took hold instantly, anchoring him in place. He struggled, confusion flashing across his scarred face, but the charging soldiers left him no time to comprehend his predicament. Forced into combat, he had no choice but to defend himself.

  I held back, debating whether to intervene. If they were part of the resistance, helping them might make sense. But I couldn’t trust them outright, and there was no telling if Mad Dog would survive the fight. Any lightning-inflicted wounds on his corpse would be easy to trace back to me.

  To his credit, Mad Dog fought ferociously, even while trapped. With twin swords flashing in the dim light, he took down three soldiers before the fourth managed to land a blow. Meanwhile, a fifth soldier emerged from the shadows, helping a wounded woman along before dropping her unceremoniously and joining the fray.

  The two attackers overwhelmed Mad Dog. Moments later, he collapsed into the muck, his body still.

  I had no time to ask questions. One of the soldiers vanished in a blink, reappearing directly in front of me.

  They were skilled. The first raised his shield just in time to block my initial lightning strike, while the second used him as cover, darting out for quick attacks. My shield effortlessly absorbed their strikes, freeing me to launch into the offensive.

  A quicksand spell sent the second soldier tumbling. Without his balance, he fell face-first into the sewer muck. His comrade’s shield couldn’t protect him anymore, and he took the full brunt of a lightning bolt at point-blank range. He crumpled, lifeless. Alone and exposed, the remaining soldier didn’t last much longer. Another bolt ended him.

  I turned, expecting the woman to have fled during the chaos. Instead, she was kneeling by the tunnel wall, one hand pressed against it for support. She hadn’t moved, clearly too weak to run.

  The last torch she carried slipped from her grasp, extinguishing in the sewage. At first, I thought it might be a trick, but after conjuring a light of my own, I saw she was still there. She was in rough shape—her left side charred black from some kind of spell or explosion.

  The fact that she was even standing in this cesspool was a miracle.

  “Are you from the resistance?” I asked.

  Her gaze flicked to me, hesitation written across her face. A simple ‘no’ might have given her better odds.

  “Yes,” she answered, to my surprise. “Sedeus caught us off guard tonight,” she added weakly.

  I didn’t have much time—soon enough, others would be coming from behind.

  Weighing my options, I decided that aiding a potential ally was worth more than the risk of her being captured later. “I can open a portal for you anywhere in the city. Do you have a safe house where you can recover?” I asked, my tone calm but urgent.

  She looked at me, startled. The offer seemed to momentarily disarm her. At this point, she had little to lose by trusting me.

  “The fountain near the eastern gate. Somewhere close to there,” she finally said after a brief hesitation.

  I’d spent enough time wandering the city during the past week to know the location. Focusing on the image in my mind, I conjured a shimmering portal beside her.

  She reached for a sword lying nearby, using it as a makeshift cane to pull herself upright. “Thank you,” she said, her voice still tinged with doubt, before stepping through without delay.

  Just before the portal shimmered shut, I called out, “What’s your name?”

  “Bendis,” she replied, her voice fading as the portal sealed behind her.

  Now came the tricky part—covering my tracks. I’d seen enough crime shows to know that staging the scene was crucial. First, I retraced the path her group had taken, scanning for anything she might have dropped—a torn piece of clothing, a weapon, anything that could link her to this location. Satisfied there was nothing, I turned my attention to the bodies.

  Mad Dog had taken down a few of the soldiers before falling, but the kills needed a touch of consistency. I unleashed a few lightning bolts at the corpses he’d left behind, ensuring I maintained appearances. I allowed him one clean kill. There was no need to raise suspicions, he was skilled enough.

  With that done, all that was left was to wait. But as I stood there, another unsettling thought occurred to me: what if the imperial guards—or whatever they were—came here with orders to eliminate all witnesses to tonight’s events? I could be the loose end being tied up.