The fate of a prey (3)

"Tell me, Aurora, how many people have you assassinated in the name of the Killer Wind?"

My ambiguous question cut through the conversation, leaving a disturbing silence. I genuinely wanted to know, hoping to gauge her level of danger and end my inner dilemma. Against all expectations, the cunning girl dodged the topic.

"That doesn’t matter. You know, mercenaries kill so often that you quickly lose track. A few memorable faces, and that’s it. Besides, we’re straying from our topic. Where was I...? Ah, yes, improvisa—"

"If I’m to become your apprentice, I want you to tell me everything. How could I trust you otherwise?"

The predator watched me intently, not moving. Just her gaze, nothing but her gaze locked with mine. Her head was slightly tilted, just enough for a strand of red hair to slip from behind her ear. It was red like the blood of her victims. She silently accused me of not understanding the stakes behind this question, but she was wrong.

I was fully aware.

I’ve already witnessed public executions. Even if they were criminals, I’ve seen how taking lives darkens the heart. It’s not something easily forgotten.

Her answer required a trade-off: if she granted me her trust, I had to be loyal and stop fearing her. From the beginning, Aurora had done everything to present the best image of herself. As strange as it might seem, she wanted things to remain that way.

She’s wary because she knows I’ll regret it. Because others have regretted it before.

A sudden panic gripped me: was I her first apprentice? Or just another in a long line, because she had ended up killing all the others? Despite every instinct screaming at me to recognize the hostility radiating from her, I didn’t back down in front of the killer. Not before I got the truth out of her.

"One thousand two hundred and forty-eight people, not counting you. Since I was eight years old. Justine keeps her own count, ask her yourself."

What?

I didn’t know what to think anymore. It was impossible to comprehend such a large number. A village? A city? An entire year of births reduced to dust? A twentieth of my Asyrian subjects? Was that a lot for a killer? Aurora had to be around my age. She started killing when she was just a child!

This wasn’t like a bomb going off in the capital, killing dozens like the Revolutionaries would do. This was Aurora, using nothing but the strength of her arms. One by one, day after day…

Was this really the right side? The right way to save my kingdom and Mother?

I didn’t want to look at her anymore, didn’t want to touch her. I could only shiver internally because I was incapable of reacting physically. Keeping a neutral face, I didn’t respond as she expected. I was simply, profoundly, shaken. Shaken that she wasn’t shaken, and shaken that I didn’t regret asking the question. Without killing me, she had just snuffed out a part of my hope. That’s why she had no limits, why she never took me seriously.

Because she embodied Fear.

"Hmm, yes... I see now why you’re number one. It makes sense," I said in a voice that barely hid my dismay.

Her thin lips curled into a smile that I suspected was forced. Then she continued her tactical explanations, oblivious to how tormented I was.

"Where were we? Oh yes, improvisation. It’s a big risk, but it can be very useful as long as everything is under control. But you don’t need to worry about that at your level. Just stick to the basic rule: follow the plan if you want to survive."

How could she change the subject as if nothing had happened? Did those thousands of lives hold no value to her?

This malevolent creature clearly had no heart. In the end, it made sense: if she didn’t have one, it couldn’t be tainted. For every peaceful day I had, heads fell without justice being served. Knowing such absurdities shattered my heart into pieces.

"Beyond plans and improvisation, there are fundamental survival rules that must be followed in all circumstances, even if improvisation is total. For example: always erase your tracks and watch your back. Use false names, check your equipment twice before going on a mission, leave no fingerprints, retrieve used projectiles. The hardest part is keeping these small instructions in mind on the field, but it comes with time. The purpose of these rules is to deprive Justice of any evidence. Because evidence means public execution! Well, you should know, that's not the worst part. Before it gets to that, law enforcement will do everything to get the names of our partners and our most intimate secrets."

I didn’t mind if the government tortured criminals. If it was the only way to save thousands of other innocent lives and serve Justice, then it wasn’t too high a price. To avoid torture and the death penalty, one just needed to stay on the right path...

Throughout her life, Aurora had done nothing but kill and cause suffering.

To me, killing was an irreversible act. Probably the worst of all. Each person had their own life, and to steal one was to condemn its existence to eternal torment. Between guilt and remorse, the conscience punished crimes by making their weight unbearable. This weight accumulated until it became intolerable if crimes were committed despite warnings from our conscience. This was what prevented the world from descending into a spiral of violence and anarchy.

Despite her thousands of stolen lives, the killer had never had to face the consequences of her crimes. As if she could bypass the limits of human nature, Aurora lived with a clear mind, or at least, she showed nothing of the weight on her conscience.

How could I see her as anything but a monster? How could I accept help from a monster? Or accept that a monster could want to help me with no ulterior motives?

Murderous madness removed her remorse; that was the only explanation. Some might see it as a blessing, others as a tragedy. On this day, the lesson that struck me the most was that the worst humans were those who roamed freely.

Those who took care not to leave traces behind. Those who were not plagued by guilt.

"Survival isn’t the only benefit of staying invisible. The less they know about us, the more they fear us. That’s why we are so powerful in the world of organized crime: people think we are more numerous in the organization, but it’s just a fabulous illusion. I advise you not to play the rebel, because if it were to be learned that the Killer Wind had dared to deceive the Revolutionaries with a staged death, our reputation would collapse. Client trust remains more important than anything else, are you still following me?"

"Everything seems important to you," I grumbled, not really having listened to her.

Not wanting to complicate our already unstable relationship, I decided to keep a low profile. The extent of my knowledge about mercenary practices came from Aurora’s own words and her charity. I knew that at some point, I would have to repay my debt. But what would she ask of me? Would I end up keeping a record of my own murders?

I don’t want to end up like her. I won’t let anyone taint my heart.

Aurora let out a deep sigh that made me turn my head in her direction. I couldn’t muster the strength to look her in the eyes, so I focused on her blue jacket. Damn, I can’t hide my distress from her…

"I knew I shouldn’t have told you," she said. "Don’t fixate on the number, Edwoyn. It’s not as simple as it seems. All those people were scum through and through. Remember? Our moral principles forbid us from targeting innocents. My victims were killers themselves and took pleasure in tormenting the weak. They were all, without exception, criminals and far worse than me or Justine. There’s nothing to regret because the world is a much better place without them."

Her words were so harsh that they betrayed a deep lack of tact. No matter what she tried to console me, she was very clumsy about it.

"Allow me to doubt it. New criminals will always emerge, your work is an endless cycle. Look how absurd it is: you yourselves are criminals!"

"You’re right: crime will never vanish from the surface. However, we can reduce the reasons that motivate most criminals. Address the real problems that are deeply rooted without us noticing."

"What would those problems be, in your opinion?"

"Off the top of my head? I’d say the hierarchy that divides the people, social classes, abusive traditions, and the hatred your family so enjoys fostering with propaganda. If I hadn’t kidnapped you, you would have perpetuated their massacre. Just that alone is a huge problem avoided by a hair."

Nonsense. I will never be like Father. And all the harm they do is a necessary sacrifice to meet the people’s needs. We can never satisfy everyone.

"Are you insinuating that the royalty is behind all the problems this country suffers from? Do you think it was better before, when political instability had persisted for centuries?"

"Not at all, those are just things I’ve observed over a decade of missions. Although they had the opportunity, your family hasn’t differed much from what was done before. It’s not surprising since they were one of the Eight Wings and built their wealth on the misery of others."

The story of my illustrious family and its noble rise to the throne was undoubtedly the first thing I was taught. I knew it by heart, even though it didn’t inspire admiration.

The way Aurora spoke of it showed a rough education and a propensity for prejudice. My ancestors were brilliant engineers serving the Asrin Empire, a reign that unified the entire Continent. They designed technological weapons, constantly pushing the boundaries of innovation. After the sudden fall of the empire, most of the know-how was lost in chaos and destruction.

Deprived of technological ore, the Gasencourts nearly started from scratch. But their talent remained unchanged, and it was only a matter of time before they regained fortune and prestige.

By specializing in bladed weapons, their domain transformed into an industry and then into a suzerainty the size of a region. The current Asyria was then divided into eight allied regions fiercely vying for the throne. Those known as the “Eight Wings of the Crowned Swan” waged a silent war of sneaky stratagems and influence that is now compared to the torment of Purgatory.

Because we had the best weapons and were the first to invest in magic, my grandfather won this power struggle that had lasted for six centuries and whose aftermath plunged the people into precariousness.

Aurora was quickly returning to her strategic lesson, seemingly letting go of the argument about the Eight Wings with surprising ease. Despite her rigid demeanor, we had strayed from the topic of discussion, and I had to admit that I was entirely to blame for this digression.

My restless night had left my attention as fickle as a newborn’s, a sensitive topic she had kindly avoided mentioning. I accepted her truce in our absurd battle of opinions without contesting. I knew that our debate was leading nowhere without concrete evidence, just as she was unaware of the full extent of my experiences with the monarchy.

The practical exercise Aurora subjected me to felt like a game. I used the palace blueprints to establish routes based on objectives and constraints she set.

In just a few tries, I was struck by her familiarity with my residence. The palace had been constructed at the beginning of my grandfather's reign, and the entire eastern wing was designed specifically for me. However, I had rarely taken the time to explore the rest of the Wings, each of which was extravagantly furnished.

All this time spent locked away while the outside world was brimming with problems to solve…

Before becoming a prince, I lived in a grand manor. However, I was too young to remember that family home or the other properties my family owned in the Vaniz region. Aurora had only set foot in this palace once, but she knew it better than I did.

How long did it take her to assimilate all this information? Does she have a talent for memorization, or is it the result of relentless work during their three months of preparation?

When she corrected me, her gestures were gentle and her voice brimmed with passion. No matter what I said, Aurora took her job seriously. This was the only detail that, in my eyes, gave her a touch of humanity. But her professional dedication didn’t stop there: more than a vocation or a duty, eliminating individuals she deemed bad was for her a reason to live.

As absurd as it might seem, I was eager to share her motivations.